The sound of the iron pliers hitting the wrench was very much like the sound of the Kowloon Walled City at night - crackling, noisy, and smelling of rust.
Mo Lengqing squatted in front of the 1967 Ferrari 250 GTO, with oily hands and beads of sweat on his forehead. Drops of sweat hit the hood, creating circles of black marks. This car was driven by a rich man wearing gold-rimmed glasses last week. He said it was an ancestral car and he would pay 50,000 Hong Kong dollars in cash after it was repaired. A Biao, the foreman, patted his chest and took the order on the spot, then turned around and threw it to him: "Xiao Mo, come on, if you work overtime after it's fixed, I'll give you an extra two hundred."
Two hundred? Mo Lengqing laughed at that time. Where are the two hundred yuan given away to the beggar? The V12 engine of this car has long been worn out, the gearbox is stuck, and the circuits are as old as an old lady's blood vessels, which can't be chewed off in less than ten days and a half.
But he took it anyway.
