I grew up on this street. When I was seven years old, my father drank too much and drowned in the river. My mother ran away with the only three thousand yuan the family had. If it weren't for the uncles and aunts on this street who kept feeding me mouth after mouth, I would have froze to death under the bridge on a winter night. Whoever wants to steal their livelihood must first step on my corpse.
Li Lei was speechless by me, his face turned as red as pig liver, and he raised his hand to call for someone to come up and pull me. I was just about to take out the baseball bat hidden behind my back when I heard someone say: "Wait a minute."
The sound is quite pleasant, like ice that has just melted in spring, refreshing.
I looked up and saw a man in an off-white windbreaker standing next to Li Lei. He had a pair of thin-rimmed glasses on his nose and a black folder in his hand. The collar was neatly buttoned. He looked like he was sitting in an office. He took two steps forward and handed over a work permit. His fingertips were white and clean, and his nails were neatly manicured. "I am the designer in charge of this old renovation project, Lu Yan. If you have any demands, you can report them to me. There is no need to conflict."
The photo on his work ID card looks more serious than he looks in person, with a short haircut and a slightly frowned brow. The name of his employer is the Design Department of the Shining Star Group.
I stared at his work ID for two seconds, then raised my eyes to look at his face.
Oh, it's him.
I met him at the company's project review meeting last month. He stood in front of a PPT and talked about the renovation plan for this old city. When he talked about retaining the pyrotechnics of the original night market, his eyes lit up. I was sitting in the first row of the audience, wearing a mask, and he didn't see me.
I took the tissue he handed me and wiped the mung bean soup on my hands.
