"Brother Wang, is this true? We can go to East Africa too, and then live as gloriously as you do?"
Hearing this, Andre felt himself floating on air. Showing off his greatness before others came as naturally as breathing, fresh and refined—but he also knew exactly how much he weighed. So he said, "Glorious is overstating it. In East Africa, I'm just a commoner at the bottom rung. I've only lived rather freely this past year in the Far East. Put me in East Africa, and I'd be nothing."
"Brother Wang, our wishes aren't high. We just want full bellies, warm clothes, and a wife. Then life would be complete. We're not as capable as you—you're already more or less an official. As the saying goes, officials and commoners are worlds apart, so there's no need for you to be modest. We truly envy you."
Heh. If the men under Andre heard that, they would surely dismiss it with scorn. Wasn't he just a platoon commander? Anyone listening might think he was a military district commander. Yet the flattery from these Far Eastern workers struck Andre right in the heart.
He said boldly, "Don't worry. You definitely won't have it bad in East Africa. I can't promise much else, but you'll never need to worry about food, clothing, housing, or travel. We all earn our living with our strength, and East Africa has always been generous in that regard."
"We absolutely believe you on that. We've worked here for so many days, and the food has been more lavish than New Year feasts back home. The soldiers under you are stronger and sturdier than the next. One look tells you they haven't been lacking in meat and oil."
Andre said, "Heh heh, naturally. I already told you—the military's benefits in