My name is Huo Zhou. I’m just an ordinary deliveryman, and I’ve been at it for almost three years. Every day, I brave wind and rain for a few lousy bucks, just enough to fill my stomach and maybe buy a pack of cigarettes now and then. I should be thanking my lucky stars. People say deliverymen make good money. What a load of crap! It’s all blood, sweat, and tears. In weather like this, customers hound you like they’re trying to kill you. One minute late and they bombard you with calls. At best, they chew you out; at worst, they file a complaint. One complaint, and I’ve wasted my whole day’s work. Tell me, is that fair?
“Huo Zhou! Huo Zhou! Where the hell have you been? That urgent delivery! The one marked ‘South Heavenly Gate: Urgent’! The customer’s called three times already. If you don’t get it there soon, forget about your performance bonus this month. You can pack your things and get out!”
My phone vibrated furiously in my raincoat pocket. My boss’s awful, blaring voice came through the receiver like a pig being slaughtered, making my ears ring. Even the rain couldn’t drown out his fury. I struggled to steer my electric scooter with one hand while wiping the rain from my face with the other, then answered the call in the most ingratiating tone I could manage, barely daring to breathe.
