Shen City, I've Arrived!

The disassembly of the back cover took quite a while, so Fang Bai rode his bike out and went to the shop where he'd bought the pager last time to get another one. The 127 service had a station in Shen City too, supporting remote paging, so it wouldn't affect use, and roaming was generally free.

Then he headed to the bus station to buy a ticket to Shen City. There was a 4 PM departure arriving the next morning, with sleeper berths, and the fare wasn't cheap.

With no expressways and poor road conditions, plus the performance of vehicles back then, the speed was just that slow.

Besides the bus, he could also take a ship from Cangnan Longgang to Shen City, which took 24 hours. He couldn't stand that long a ride, but the fare was cheaper, and many people chose it—though it wasn't suitable for those prone to seasickness.

There was no train to Shen City yet, so it was either the boat or the bus.

After buying the bus ticket, Fang Bai went back to his rental to pack his luggage.

While he was packing, his mother asked if he was taking the boat or the bus.

"Mom, I'm taking the bus. The boat takes too long."

"Oh, then I'll prepare some food for the road. How about boiled eggs and braised chicken legs? Anything else you want? I'll get it for you."

"The bus leaves at 4 PM and arrives tomorrow morning. No need to prepare that much. I'll have a meal around 3 PM before I go, and just bring two eggs and two bottles of water. No chicken legs."

"Better to prepare more. You'll be riding for over ten hours. What if you get hungry and there's nowhere to buy food? I'll get you some snacks too."

Fang Bai nodded. "Alright, just buy a bag of sunflower seeds and a pack of cookies."

Hearing her son agree, Liu Fengqing went downstairs to buy them, and Fang Bai also headed down to start working.

Fang Bai worked all morning, read in the afternoon, ate a meal at 3 PM, then slung on his backpack and set off.

The station was near the rental, just a few minutes' walk away.

Standing in front of the bustling bus station, watching travelers carrying or hauling their luggage, Fang Bai felt a pang of emotion at how fast Wencheng was developing now.

In the 1980s, Wencheng had completed its basic accumulation in the early stages of a market economy through a development model based on household operations, guided by specialized markets, supported by small towns, and led by rural talents, achieving a historic leap from poverty to subsistence.

This "time lag" and forward-thinking directly widened the gap with other cities.

Before other cities could react, Wencheng had already sprinted ahead.

By the early 1990s, Wencheng had completed its second wave of entrepreneurship, with industrial upgrades, accelerated urbanization, and international advancement.

In this era, Wencheng's economy ranked among the top in the country, with the GDP of two provincial capitals unable to match it.

By the late 1990s, due to various reasons, Wencheng's development slowed compared to other cities. For instance, because of limited land, many factories faced the awkward situation of being unable to buy land even with money to expand, forcing them to leave Wencheng for other cities.

Fang Bai also believed land was a key factor restricting Wencheng's development. To the south, north, and west were mountains, and to the east was the sea, so land reclamation was the only option—something done in his past life too, but it still couldn't keep up with demand.

Of course, local competition was too fierce, and other cities and regions had more development potential and opportunities, so people from Wencheng flooded into those places.

Fang Bai was just a microcosm of Wencheng's merchants. In the future, due to land scarcity, he too would leave Wencheng and base his headquarters in other cities.

He couldn't change Wencheng's future.

Fang Bai sighed and walked into the station.

After a short wait, he saw the bus heading to Shen City pull into its berth.

Once the bus stopped, passengers checked their tickets and boarded. Fang Bai joined the line, had his ticket checked, and got on.

As soon as he stepped inside, he caught a whiff of a rotten smell mixed with gasoline fumes. He couldn't help covering his nose while scanning the cabin.

The bus looked fairly new, but the seats inside were a bit dirty, probably never cleaned.

For someone used to high-speed trains, a dirty, smelly bus like this was definitely hard to get used to.

He didn't have much luggage, so he brought it on board. Travelers carrying large bags had to stow their stuff in the cargo hold.

His spot was a top berth by the window in row 5.

Before coming, he'd prepared some paper. He pulled a stack from his backpack, wiped down his seat, then placed his backpack on the berth, took off his shoes, and climbed up, tucking his shoes into the space in front of the berth.

At 176 cm tall, he could barely lie down.

Before long, more passengers filled the bus, and many took off their shoes. The smell of foot odor grew stronger, so Fang Bai opened the window to let in some air.

It wasn't that he was being fussy—he really wasn't used to it.

Luckily, he had a high tolerance. Once he got accustomed to the stench, he could tough it out. If others could handle it, so could he.

If the weather were any hotter, well, that would be another story.

In the berth below him was a young man. He rolled down the window, spat outside, and then, just moments later, couldn't hold back and vomited. After wiping his mouth with paper, he couldn't help cursing: "Whose stinking feet are those? Can't you put your shoes on? Are you trying to kill us?"

At his shout, several passengers chimed in: "Yeah, if your feet stink, put your shoes on. Show some consideration for everyone."

Hearing this, Fang Bai added his voice: "It's suffocating in here! Please put your shoes on, or wrap your socks and shoes in plastic bags to keep the smell contained."

Maybe because so many people complained, the middle-aged female attendant also joined in. Some passengers with smelly feet reluctantly put their shoes back on, but others remained unmoved.

Still, this was already a decent outcome.

A few minutes later, the attendant came around to check tickets and count heads.

After another two or three minutes, the bus started up and headed northeast.

Fang Bai looked out the window. Street vendors were hawking their wares in a constant din, adding to the noise and bustle.

As the bus drove for a minute or two, Fang Bai saw rows of small workshops or family-run businesses along the roadside, producing all kinds of small goods that formed the backbone of the local economy.

After who knows how long, the bus had left the county town. The sun had set, and faint lights from village houses at the foot of the mountains twinkled in the distance.

Fang Bai cracked the window open a little, tired from reading. He stuffed his bag into the seat, then turned sideways, pressing his backpack against the window as he closed his eyes. Before long, he was asleep.

He had no idea where they were when the bus attendant shouted for a bathroom break—the bus would stop for ten minutes.

Fang Bai felt a bit of pressure himself, so he quickly slipped on his shoes, shouldered his backpack, and stepped off the bus.

There was no proper stop, just a stretch of flat woodland that was convenient enough for the purpose. Men went left, women went right.

Fang Bai found the biggest tree, which offered decent cover. With his back to everyone else, he added some urea to the tree, hoping it would grow even lusher—and make future stops here even better.

While fertilizing, he noticed quite a few smaller trees nearby had already withered and yellowed. Looked like too much urea.

Or maybe some passenger with uremia had suddenly been so taken by the beautiful scenery that their kidneys relaxed, flushing out years of accumulated toxins and killing the trees outright.

After a while, all the passengers returned to the bus. The attendant did a headcount and found one missing. She got off and shouted into the woods, "We're leaving! Hurry up, it's been ten minutes. Even constipation doesn't take this long."

No sooner had she spoken than a woman with a grim face came running out of the woods, looking flustered and clearly unfinished. She was fastening her pants as she yelled back, "Coming, coming!"

Fang Bai was already lying on his bunk, but he didn't laugh. If it were him—having not even finished and getting rushed—he'd probably be annoyed too.

Look at her, all scrunched up like she'd bitten into a bitter cucumber.

Fang Bai counted himself lucky: At least it's not me.

The bus started up again, and Fang Bai went back to sleep. They stopped twice more along the way.

Some time later, the bus came to a halt. Fang Bai heard through his drowsiness the cheerful shouts of passengers: "We're here!"

The attendant walked down the aisle, knocking on bunks. "Last stop! Last stop! Time to get off."

Fang Bai put on his shoes and shuffled his stiff body down from the bunk.

A few minutes later, Fang Bai stood at the exit of Shencheng Long-Distance Bus Terminal. To the east was the Shencheng Railway Station. This was JA District, about eight kilometers from the Shencheng University of Finance and Economics campus.

The sky was just barely light. Outside the station, people came and went. Street vendors hawked breakfast, and rickshaw drivers and taxi drivers called out for fares.

By now, Shencheng had already implemented a policy limiting the number of rickshaws in operation. They weren't allowed into the city center or major thoroughfares. In another two or three years, they might be banned outright.

Fang Bai watched the bustling flow of people, like a mighty river surging endlessly, and suddenly the song "The Bund" came to mind.

Waves surge, waves flow

The mighty river rolls on without rest

Love you, hate you—ask if you know

Like the great river, once unleashed, it won't stop

Shencheng, I'm here!