Farming Life Starting in Africa

The eyes of the group, which had been drowsy, suddenly lit up as if electrified, shining brightly enough to be used as flashlights.

"Alright," Rosen patted the box, "it's time for the battle to conclude."

"There are five of us in total—Patrick and Miao Feng are the drivers, each worth $50,000." As he spoke, Rosen counted out a stack of money from the box and threw five bundles at each of Patrick and Miao Feng.

The dollar bill traced a green parabola in the air and landed in Patrick's arms with a "thud".

Patrick caught the money, glanced down at the thick stack of Franklin, froze for two seconds, and then revealed a set of teeth so white they could smear toothpaste.

"Thank you, boss! Long live the boss!"

Miao Feng's hands trembled slightly when he caught the money, and his expression was more complex than if he had won the lottery, because he looked both excited and conflicted.

"Isn't this too much?" Miao Feng flipped through the money in his hand. "Besides, you saved me, I can't take this much."

"Hehe, don't refuse," Rosen waved his hand. "Your wedding back home will cost a lot of money. I probably won't be able to attend the wedding, so I'll just give you the extra money as a wedding gift."

Miao Feng opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but was silenced by a glare from Rosen.

After dividing their portions, Rosen divided the remaining $2.7 million into three parts, each worth $900,000, stacking them into three piles that stood like three small green hills on the table. He then pushed two of these piles in front of Leng Feng and Zhou Weijie respectively.

Leng Feng stared at the pile of money in front of him, his breathing becoming rapid. Nine hundred thousand US dollars—this was a sum many people couldn't accumulate in a lifetime. His monthly salary in the army wasn't low either. But he would have to serve most of his life in the military to earn this much.

Zhou Weijie remained calm, barely even lifting his eyelids.

He glanced at the pile of money, then at Rosen, and slowly said, "Honey Badger, this isn't how you divide it."

"Hmm?" Rosen tilted his head to look at him.

"You rescued the people by yourself alone deep in the mine. Leng Feng and I were just drawing fire from the outside," Zhou Weijie tapped the table with his fingers. "The danger inside the mine is the highest. You were facing the core defense of the entire Iron Army all by yourself. And you were the one who killed and brought Hassud out—we can't split these two million."

Rosen waved his hand dismissively. "Come on, I've already killed your client and made a one-off deal for you. Consider this extra compensation. Look at your face, it's been dark ever since you got back. I'm afraid you've turned into a genetically modified black guy."

Zhou Weijie's face darkened even more.

Leng Feng chimed in, "I think Brother Zhou is right. We really shouldn't have divided up so much. The danger you faced in the cave was much greater than ours, and you brought so many hostages out with you."

"Alright, alright," Rosen said impatiently. "Don't be so polite. I still need your help on this trip to Ivia." He turned to Zhou Weijie, a smirk playing on his lips. "Who knows, I might need to get some information from your customers—by the way, what were the bounties on Zaka's boss, Daidi, and Sharaf again? Maybe we can take them down on the way..."

Zhou Weijie's face immediately turned as black as the bottom of a pot. "Hey! That's enough! These are all clients I've painstakingly cultivated over the years! Are you trying to ruin my livelihood? Do you know how hard it is for me to make a living in this area?"

"Haha," Rosen laughed heartlessly, "Africa has no shortage of customers with needs. If one dies, there are thousands more."

"No, I don't want to ruin my reputation. I have to keep this whole killing of Hassud a secret, otherwise it will seriously affect my business. Who would dare to do business with me in the future?"

Rosen looked at Zhou Weijie's dark face and shook his head with amusement: "Alright, let's split it like this. After we rescue my uncle's friend, I can still get some kickbacks from him—he's always been very stingy, but for his old flame, he should be willing to bleed a little."

"No, there's no such rule," Zhou Weijie said firmly. "You took the biggest risk, so you should get the biggest reward."

As he spoke, he pushed the pile of money in front of him back to Rosen. Then, ignoring Leng Feng's opinion, he directly split his share in half and pushed one half back.

"We'll just split half of this 900,000," Zhou Weijie said. "You don't owe us anything. We were just going to rescue people; this money was an unexpected bonus. You didn't mention any bonuses before we went."

Leng Feng glanced at the pile of money split in two, then at Zhou Weijie's unquestionable face, and said nothing more. He wasn't someone who cared too much about money; otherwise, he wouldn't have been so easily swindled by that unscrupulous merchant, Qian Bida. He wasn't stupid; he just didn't want to offend the local bigwigs as soon as he arrived in Africa, especially since they really did have the information he needed.

Rosen nodded helplessly. He really didn't care much about the money; that box of gold was enough for him to live a luxurious life. But seeing Zhou Weijie's "If you push me again, I'll get angry" expression, he was too lazy to argue anymore.

After dividing the loot, the group happily put the money away.

Only Ma Xiao watched longingly from the sidelines, his eyes burning with envy. He had stayed in Africa to become a journalist in order to earn more money. But after a year of hard work, he couldn't even earn a fraction of what Rosen made in just a few days. As he watched those people stuffing money into the car, he felt a pang of jealousy.

However, he also knew his own limitations. Ask him to take a gun to the battlefield? He probably wouldn't even know where the safety was, let alone how to fire it. Even if he did get a gun, upon seeing the enemy, he'd most likely be the one who wets his pants first.

People are more valuable in having self-knowledge.

That evening, Rosen dialed Qian Bida's number.

"Uncle, I haven't gotten any useful information either," Rosen said, leaning back in a folding chair in the yard, legs crossed, looking at the sparse stars in the sky. "How's it going on your end? Any new news?"

"Me neither," Qian Bida's voice sounded tired. "Right now I can only stay on the ship, which can't dock yet. I called 12308 to contact the people at the Ivia embassy, ​​but they don't know the situation either—there are still people in the embassy who haven't had time to evacuate, and they're too busy to handle everything themselves."

"Alright then," Rosen stubbed out his cigarette on the sole of his shoe. "I'll go to Ivia tomorrow to check things out, spend some money to buy some intelligence, and see if I can find your old flame. I'll let you know if I get any news."

Qian Bida immediately interrupted him, "Don't talk nonsense! She has a husband and children! What old flame? She's just my business partner."