The sky stretched cloudless for miles, and the sun shone brightly.
Inside and outside Jingcheng Station, crowds surged through the spring day. This was the heart of Shenzhou; people came from every direction and left for every direction.
Young men and women in glasses looked spirited and full of ambition. Migrant workers carrying bundles wandered about aimlessly, overwhelmed by the prosperity and bustle of the great city.
Outside, tour guides held up little red flags as they led groups of tourists along. Vendors shouted their wares, scalpers furtively sold tickets, and others solicited lodging.
"Hey, brother, you just get here? Don't have anywhere to stay, do you?"
A striking woman grabbed hold of a young man who had just emerged from the station and pressed herself close to him. "Sis runs an inn, not far away—right across the street. It's less than five hundred meters, and it's cheap, too. Everyone who comes to Jingcheng is here to make a living. Sis knows a few people as well. Maybe I can even help introduce you to a job."
After looking him up and down, she had immediately decided he was from out of town. There was no other reason—he wasn't fashionable. He looked downright rustic.
What era was this? Yet this young man was still wearing rubber shoes and military-style trousers from the seventies or eighties. The bag in his hand was a woven plastic sack, and he had a green postal satchel slung over his shoulder with "Serve the People" printed on it. The only thing of any value was the slightly yellowed watch on his wrist, which might still be worth a little money.
He was dressed like a textbook migrant worker.
One look was enough for the woman to know that he was part of her target clientele...