It was a stormy midnight, with wind and rain lashing down as if a typhoon were about to hit. In a cargo truck, the driver muttered curses about the wretched weather.
In the truck's passenger seat, a balding, middle-aged man spoke in an ingratiating tone, less persuading the driver than simply placating him.
Inside Changqing Garden.
Listening to the man's gruff voice as he placated the driver in the local dialect as if he were a child, Xu Changqing shook her head. "Listen to that! Making money isn't easy. Even the boss has to grovel."
"Are you sure there won't be a major typhoon?"
Shen Weimin had gotten in early. Earlier, he'd been with Xu Changqing, touring a small fishing village. But before they even reached Central Street, he'd fallen for her scheme and gone back to Changqing Garden to pack his things.
