Chapter 7 | The First Deal

The street corner was more bustling than Li Xing had imagined.

Not really crowded, but rather chaotic.

Bicycles lay haphazardly against the wall, some flat, some with dangling chains, their frames covered in a thick layer of mud.

Master Zhou pulled his cotton-padded coat over his shoulder and pointed to one of the bikes.

“This one.”

“It keeps slipping.”

Li Xing crouched down and glanced at it.

The chain was loose, the rear freewheel was badly worn, and the brake pads were thin.

There were quite a few problems.

He quickly ran through the steps in his mind, but found—that “clear feeling” was gone.

It wasn’t as smooth as when he was repairing his own bike.

Now, only fragmented memories remained.

“Can you fix it?” Master Zhou asked.

Li Xing looked up.

People around had already stopped to watch the commotion.

He knew that if he backed down now, it would be difficult to get back later.

“Yes,” he said. The sound wasn't loud, but it was steady.

He pushed the bike aside and borrowed tools from Master Zhou.

The tools were incomplete.

The wrench was chipped, and the oil was murky.

Li Xing frowned but didn't say anything.

He first reversed the bike and turned the pedals.

"Click, click."

The sound of slipping was clear.

When he removed the chain, his hands moved noticeably slower.

He had to think carefully for every step.

Sweat quickly broke out.

Not from exhaustion.

It was from tension.

People around him whispered.

"So young, can he handle it?"

"Don't ruin it."

These words weren't loud, but they pierced his ears.

Li Xing didn't look up.

He soaked the chain in the oil pan, then wiped it clean little by little with a cloth.

His hands were covered in black oil.

He suddenly remembered the emptiness he felt last night when the countdown reached zero.

He'd abandoned all other options.

Now, it was all up to him.

When he put the chain back, he discovered a problem.

The gears were too worn; he couldn't adjust them properly.

Continuing to use it would only provide temporary relief, not a permanent solution.

He hesitated, then looked up at Master Zhou.

"This bike's gears are worn flat."

"I can straighten them for you, but it won't last long."

Master Zhou paused, then nodded.

"Just the truth."

These words eased Li Xing's mind a little.

He continued working.

Adjusting the chain, straightening, tightening the brakes.

Every step was slow.

But not a single step was haphazard.

After more than ten minutes, he straightened the bike and tried pedaling.

The chain wasn't slipping anymore.

The sound was much smoother.

Master Zhou rode it around the street.

When he returned, his face clearly showed surprise.

“Okay,” he said. “Much better than before.”

Li Xing stood up, his legs a little numb.

Master Zhou pulled a few coins from his pocket and handed them over.

“One yuan and fifty cents.”

“Is that alright?”

Li Xing looked at the coins.

Not much.

But it was the first money he had earned on his own in this era.

He nodded and took it.

The moment his fingers touched the banknotes, his heart sank.

This money felt much heavier than the grain he had received through printing.

The crowd dispersed somewhat.

But someone pushed their own car over.

“Can I take a look too?”

Li Xing glanced at Master Zhou.

Master Zhou didn't speak, but simply moved aside.

That was attitude.

Li Xing took a deep breath.

“Sure.”

The second car.

The third car.

By noon, he had repaired four cars.

His hands ached, and his back hurt.

With each repair, his heart settled a little more.

He began to clearly feel—the space offered a starting point, not an end.

At lunchtime, as the workday ended, Master Zhou patted him on the shoulder.

“Coming again this afternoon?”

Li Xing looked at the sky.

The sun was shining brightly.

People were still coming and going on the street.

“Yes,” he said.

This time, there was no hesitation.

He knew that this one job had pushed him from “giving it a try” to “taking it one step at a time.”