The next morning was as busy as ever.
Receiving deliveries, signing receipts, organizing the shelves-everything went on as usual, in an orderly fashion.
The only difference was that the scrap collector, who normally would have arrived on his tricycle long before this hour, still hadn't shown up today. The mountain of cardboard boxes was starting to block the way, forcing several customers to turn sideways to get past.
Wang Xiaoliang was wondering whether to call him and ask what was going on when a somewhat familiar voice came from behind him.
"Young boss, got any scrap to sell?"
Wang Xiaoliang turned and saw a smiling face. It was Zhou Qiang. He wore an ordinary gray T-shirt, the muscles in his arms clearly defined, looking ready to get to work.
"Brother Qiang?" Wang Xiaoliang was a little surprised. "Sorry, but someone already has the arrangement to collect our scrap. I can't sell it to you."
Zhou Qiang grinned, revealing a set of white teeth, then walked over and patted the pile of boxes. "Of course I know. Uncle Liu, who collects your scrap, is from my hometown. He's one of my people. He's sick today, so I'm filling in for him."
With that, he laughed to himself.
"You brat, you started working and didn't even get in touch. You're buying me lunch today," Zhou Qiang said in a tone that brooked no argument.
Wang Xiaoliang hurried to explain, "I'm really sorry, Brother Qiang. We don't take a lunch break, and someone has to stay in the shop. I really don't have the time. How about tonight? Dinner's on me. What do you say?"
Zhou Qiang didn't reply. He had already bent down, wrapped both arms around a large stack of flattened boxes, and hoisted them up, deftly carrying them to the