Final Civilization

Chapter 47: Chen Peng

"I really had that dream."

Han Ming didn't mention anything else, he only brought up the main reason he had gone into the police station.

"I think you were daydreaming."

She almost immediately retorted, irritation obvious in her tone. She turned around as if to continue walking forward, but this time her movement was a little hesitant.

Han Ming noticed that detail and spoke up.

"Sorry, maybe I got mixed up because of the dream."

"You realize you were mixed up?" The woman turned her head, displeasure on her face: "Jiang Xing, don't you know going into the police station isn't something to be proud of? If people see you, who knows what they'll say about you!"

Han Ming nodded, cooperating.

"Okay, I know. I'll try… not to do it again."

He said that, but in truth every time he entered the dream, it started at the police station, which meant these scenes and conversations would keep looping."Try?"

The woman crossed her arms and glared at him angrily. "I think you've truly lost your head."

With that she turned to leave.

At that moment, the road along the riverbank echoed with the roar of a motorcycle. Before long, a group of men and women in trendy shirts and bell-bottoms pedaled bicycles behind a motorcycle. Someone carried a boombox that blared noisy pop music, chatting loudly all the way.

Quickly the cyclists spotted the two on the riverbank and stopped. The young man on the motorcycle, wearing a floral shirt and large sunglasses, put his foot down, removed his shades and peered over here, smiling.

"Yo, Shen Xia, Jiang Xing, what a coincidence. Want to go to karaoke together?"

He then looked at Han Ming. "Oh right, Jiang Xing, you can't go. Your dad won't let you into places for adults."

"Hahahaha!"

At his words, the people behind him burst into laughter.

"Chen Peng, I told you I won't go to karaoke." Shen Xia's face darkened when she heard the taunt at Jiang Xing. She refused outright: "If you want to go, go yourselves."

Then she turned to Han Ming: "Jiang Xing, let's go."

"Eh!"

Chen Peng's smile instantly vanished when he saw that, as if he felt humiliated. He called after Shen Xia, then took two tickets from his pocket and said:

"Shen Xia, my dad pulled some strings and got me two tickets to a Hong Kong singer's concert in the provincial capital. I checked — it's Leon Lai, the one you like. A classy event like that, a kid like Jiang Xing would never get in. What do you say, want to go see it together?"

"Wow! Idol!!"

"Leon Lai's concert!"

"Pengzi, sick!"

Immediately, the group erupted in exclamations.

You have to remember, in this era Hong Kong pop stars were the height of pop culture. Back then, let alone seeing a concert, only rich people could afford genuine cassette tapes.

Used to being the center of attention, Chen Peng was full of pride.

"How about it?" Chen Peng waved the tickets: "We leave tonight, stay in a city hotel, come back tomorrow morning. Much more fun than you sitting around reading every day."

Shen Xia said coldly, "I'm not going."

"Don't rush to refuse." Chen Peng got off the motorcycle and stepped closer, the cologne on him wafting strong. "Opportunities like this only come once in a lifetime, most people never get them. Jiang Xing, don't you think so?"

He looked at Han Ming mockingly and said: "Jiang Xing, persuade Shen Xia. When we come back, I'll bring you some real Coca-Cola to try, okay?"

Han Ming didn't answer. Instead, he slightly tilted his head as if observing something. His gaze moved from Chen Peng's shirt to his watch, then to the motorcycle, and finally rested on the two concert tickets.

"What are you staring at?" Chen Peng felt awkward under the gaze.

"I'm thinking…" Jiang Xing spoke, voice low but clear enough for those nearby to hear:

"Your father, Director Chen, said at last month's factory staff meeting that the factory's profits are poor this year and the year-end bonus might be canceled."

Chen Peng froze. "What's that to you?"

Jiang Xing ignored him and continued: "But your shirt is Golden Li Lai brand. I saw the same one last month at the provincial department store, priced at ninety-eight yuan."

A collective gasp came from the crowd. In this era, ordinary workers only earned two or three hundred a month.

"So what if it is?" Chen Peng sneered, looking at him as if he were an idiot.

"And those shoes." Jiang Xing's gaze dropped. "Nike air-cushion shoes, imported, at least sixty yuan. That watch on your wrist is a Citizen Eco-Drive. Its dial turns blue under strong light — it hasn't been officially released here yet."

Chen Peng's expression shifted. He looked at Jiang Xing, unsure what kind of trick this guy was playing.

Jiang Xing's voice remained calm, like he was solving a math problem: "Two tickets to Leon Lai's concert would cost at least three to four hundred each. Add travel and hotel, it's no less than five hundred. Your motorcycle, a Suzuki GS125, is valued at least thirteen hundred. It runs on 93 octane unleaded gasoline, and only the municipal petrochemical plant in the city has that — it's twice the price of normal 90 octane."

He paused and met Chen Peng's eyes. "And your father, a textile factory director, under the state's eighth-grade wage system, has a monthly salary of less than two hundred. Your mother works at the supply and marketing cooperative, fifty yuan a month. Even if your family didn't eat or drink for five years, their total income still couldn't buy your motorcycle."

The air stiffened. Afternoon sunlight stretched everyone's shadows long. A passing tractor's chugging made the silence feel heavier.

"What are you implying?" Chen Peng's face darkened.

Han Ming stepped forward past Shen Xia to stand in front of Chen Peng. Now they were less than a meter apart. He lowered his voice but spoke loud enough for people nearby to hear:

"What I mean is, if I were you, my concern wouldn't be whether I can get Shen Xia to a concert."

His gaze swept the two golden tickets. "It would be that your father, a state factory director, somehow has so many 'connections' to get these scarce goods, and where did the money come from to buy things for his son?"

He took half a step back and his voice returned to normal, even tinged with a fittingly concerned tone: "Chen Peng, the city is investigating things lately. You should know better than I do. The anti-corruption wave isn't just talk. If I were you, I'd go home now and let Director Chen think about whether those tickets, clothes, and gasoline can stand up to inspection."

Chen Peng's face drained of color. The two tickets in his hand suddenly felt scorching hot, almost impossible to hold.

He was stunned, looking at Han Ming's face — familiar but with something strangely alien — that subtle smile felt piercingly cold.

A friend behind him whispered, "Pengge, maybe forget it…"

"Don't talk nonsense!" Chen Peng tried to keep up his bravado, but his voice was weak. "My dad's clean…"

"Well then that's best."

Han Ming took over with a casual tone and a smile: "Since Young Master Chen is so rich, when will you bring me some Coca-Cola? I really haven't tried that Western drink."

Chen Peng swallowed nervously, glanced at Shen Xia behind him, then checked to see if any passersby were watching. His expression conflicted as he backed away.

He said nothing more. He gave Han Ming a fierce glare, then revved the motorcycle and sped off. His group of buddies pedaled like crazy to catch up behind him.

At that moment, a cold touch gripped Han Ming's arm. Shen Xia grabbed him, surprise written all over her pretty face: "Jiang Xing, how… how do you know so much about Chen Peng?"