Mastering the Sword Manual, sweeping across the globe

Page 70

I remember one time we went over time, and the customer yelled at me for five minutes. He was a bald, middle-aged man in a vest, standing at the door pointing his finger at me and spitting in my face. I just stood there listening, without saying a word. My legs were shaking as I went downstairs, not from fear, but from anger. But on the way back, I thought, oh well, maybe he was just in a bad mood today.

I remember once I spilled soup and had to pay 38 yuan in compensation. That was two hours' worth of earnings. That night, I did the math, and I'd already lost over 300 yuan this month, and I still hadn't paid the rent.

I remember one time after delivering an order, my electric scooter ran out of power. I had to push it for two kilometers before I found a charging station. It was drizzling while I was pushing the scooter; the rain wasn't heavy, but it was quite frequent, and I got soaked. By the time I got to the charging station, my hands were frozen, and it took me ages to finally pull out my phone to scan the QR code.

What the hell is going on?

Chen Juefei, 34 years old, earns a seven-figure annual salary, owns a large apartment in Lujiazui, drives a Porsche, and sleeps with a public relations manager.

In my dream, I was actually feeling the pinch over a 38-yuan order.

absurd.

That's fucking absurd.

He turned over again.

The woman was woken up twice by him, mumbled something in her sleep, and then went back to sleep.

I picked up the phone and glanced at it.

5:13.

I should get up in two hours. I have a meeting this morning, analyzing the Q3 operational data for the East China region, which he will be chairing.

In this state, a meeting? What kind of meeting? My mind is filled with that orange cat with the missing ear in the stairwell.

Put down your phone, close your eyes, and force yourself not to think about those things.

Counting sheep.

One sheep, two sheep, three sheep...

The sheep have become orders. Orders are lining up in my mind, waiting to be picked up and delivered. Pickup code, delivery address, customer notes—"Just leave it at the door," "Knock gently, the child is sleeping," "Call me when it arrives and I'll come down to pick it up"...

No.

Let's try another one.

Count your breaths.

Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale...

My breathing became the sound of climbing stairs. Sixth floor, ninety-six steps. I've counted them countless times. Sometimes I forget while counting because my mind is wandering to other things—how many orders I completed today, whether I can do more tomorrow, how much rent I still owe next month.

Hold.

He opened his eyes again.

Through the gap in the curtains, the sky seemed to be turning a little white. It wasn't real brightness, but rather a faint change from deep blue to grayish-blue, so subtle that it was almost imperceptible unless you looked closely.

It's almost six o'clock.

I took the phone.

Five fifty-eight.

I finally fell asleep at 6:17.

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The dream began.

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When I woke up, it was still dark.

I reached for my phone and glanced at it; it was 5:20.

I lay there, staring at the ceiling, lost in thought for a while.

My wife rolled over.

My daughter is asleep in the next room.

He sat up, dressed very quietly, so as not to wake them.

My wife, still half asleep, asked, "So early?"

"Yes, there are a lot of orders today."

I went downstairs and pushed my electric scooter. It was parked in the shed downstairs, squeezed together with several other scooters. Some had yellow insulated boxes strapped to them, some blue ones, and one was yellow—it was a similar scooter.

I got on my bike and headed towards the shopping district.

There were few people on the street, only sanitation workers sweeping the streets and a few night-shift taxis. The streetlights were still on, casting long shadows.

I stopped the car in front of a steamed bun shop, went in, and bought a meat bun and a cup of soy milk. I ate it standing by the roadside; the bun was a little cold, but the soy milk was still hot.

After finishing my meal, I turned on my phone and went online.

The first order has arrived.

I picked up my order from "Old Li's Noodle Shop" and had it delivered to a nearby residential area. When I picked it up, Old Li was in the kitchen, downstairs, the food steaming and the aroma wafting over. Old Li glanced at me and said, "Good morning today."

"Ah."

I grabbed the food and rode my bike over. The building didn't have an elevator; it was six stories high. I climbed up, knocked on the door, and someone inside called out, "Just leave it at the door." I hung the food on the doorknob, took a picture, and went back downstairs.

Next order.

I picked up my "Zhang Ji Fried Chicken" order and had it delivered to my office building. I waited ages for the elevator, and when I got up, the receptionist said the person wasn't there and I could just leave it on the table. I took a picture and uploaded it.

Next order.

I picked up a meal from "Wang Po Milk Tea" and delivered it to the hospital's inpatient department. I waited outside for over ten minutes before the customer came out. She was a young woman, wearing pajamas, with red-rimmed eyes. She took the meal, said thank you, and turned to go inside. I saw a sign on the ward door that read "Oncology Department."

stunned for a moment.

The scene looked familiar. But I didn't think much of it, went downstairs, got on my bike, and picked up the next order.

Days passed by.

Sometimes when I'm delivering orders, I wonder when this will ever end. But it's just a thought; once I'm done thinking, I keep going.

I was delivering an order to an old apartment complex, six flights of stairs. There were cardboard boxes piled up in the stairwell, and around the corner, an orange cat was squatting, licking its paws. Seeing it reminded me of a similar one I'd seen before. But that one was missing an ear, while this one was whole.

I went downstairs and rode away on my bike.

When one order was delivered, an elderly person opened the door and said thank you. I heard coughing coming from inside, and it lasted for a long time. I stood at the door listening for a few seconds, then went downstairs.

One day after work, I ran into a delivery rider at the station who was squatting by the door smoking. The man offered me one, which I took and lit.

The man said, "Are you new here? I've never seen you before."

He said, "I've been here for a while now."

The man said, "Oh, my name is Lao Zhang."

stunned for a moment.

Old Zhang.

Old Zhang is in his forties, and half of his hair has turned white.

Keep running.

A year has passed.

Two years have passed.

My daughter started elementary school. Her schoolbag got torn, and she said her classmates were laughing at her. I said okay, I'll buy her a new one next month. Next month came, and she said to wait a bit, that money was tight this month.

The daughter didn't say anything.

Then one day when I went home, I saw her sewing that schoolbag under the lamp. The stitches were crooked, but she was sewing very carefully. My wife was watching beside me, without saying a word.

I stood at the door for a long time.

I couldn't sleep that night. I lay in bed staring at the ceiling, wondering what I was doing.

The next morning at 5:20, I still got up and rode my bike out.

One order was being delivered to an upscale residential complex. The complex consisted of large houses, each at least 100 square meters. A little girl, about the same age as his daughter, was wearing a pretty dress and playing on a scooter downstairs.

I stood there and watched for a few seconds.

Then go.

In the third year, my wife was diagnosed with a minor health issue. It wasn't anything serious, but she needed to take medication, which cost several hundred yuan each month.

They ran even harder.

I leave home at five in the morning and return at midnight. Sometimes I get so tired that I rest for a while on a bench at the station, then continue running.

Old Zhang quit a long time ago. New riders came and went, and he became the most senior rider at the station.

The station manager sometimes says, "Take it easy, don't ruin your health."

He said he was fine.

The fourth year.

One rainy day, I fell while delivering orders on my bike. It wasn't serious; I just scraped my knee and bled a little. I got up, righted the bike, and continued my deliveries.

When I got home that evening, my wife saw the injury on my knee and asked what happened.

He said he was fine, he just tripped and fell.

His wife didn't say anything and went to get the first-aid kit.

I sat on the edge of the bed, watching my wife squatting there applying medicine.

The medicine stung the wound, but he didn't utter a sound.

After my wife finished applying the medicine, she looked up and her eyes were red.

I wanted to say something, but I opened my mouth and couldn't say anything.

That night, I lay in bed, listening to the rain outside the window.

My daughter is asleep in the next room, and my wife is asleep next to me.

With eyes open, staring at the ceiling.

Thinking back on these four years, how many orders have I actually completed?

I wonder when my daughter will be able to get into university.