Yang Liansheng returned to the convenience store, and the clerk looked at him with surprise.
"Brother, why did you come back? Did you drop something here?"
"No, just water. Have the police finished questioning?" Yang Liansheng walked to the shelves, checked the price tags, grabbed a jug of water, and returned to the cashier to pay. After paying, he asked, "Do you have a map? Can I take a look at the roads around here?"
"Today has just been terrible. Here's the map, take a look yourself. Just bad luck, who knows when they'll catch that damn robber." The clerk casually took out a folded old map from the counter and handed it to Yang Liansheng.
"Thank you." Yang Liansheng unfolded the map, and the chill ran down his spine when he saw the names on it—Arkansas, Plaskey County, Little Rock.
Looking at the map of the whole United States, Arkansas is in the southern, slightly eastern part, while California is on the West Coast, in the southwestern direction. That's way too far. How did the original owner come all this way, especially as a homeless man?
"Thanks. Another question, are there any Chinese restaurants nearby?"
"Let me think... Definitely none nearby, I don't recall any."
"Okay, thanks." Yang Liansheng placed the map on the cashier counter, turned around, and left the convenience store.
...
While paying, he had glanced at the newspaper on the cashier counter, 09/07/1999, Tuesday. The newspaper lying on the counter seemed to be the latest issue, establishing the date and place, but it was indeed an unexpected reality for Yang Liansheng.
When he first woke up, considering he was from San Francisco, California, he thought that even as a homeless man, he would be locally situated. The prosperity of California made a deep impression; finding a bustling spot could somehow provide a means to survive. Yet now, he found himself in Arkansas, a state he had barely heard of – he could only take it one step at a time.
Back at the tent, it looked like all the homeless were up, and there were quite a few more individuals around.
"Jimmy, come here, it's time to head to the bank, or we won't have anything to eat later." A Caucasian man saw Yang Liansheng returning and called out to him.
"This 'Jimmy' nickname really takes some getting used to. Seems like I'll have to start introducing myself as Jimmy more often, getting used to this English name. From now on, it's Jimmy Yang." Yang Liansheng thought to himself with some resignation. He was used to his Chinese name, and the first name he had given himself after his rebirth was also a Chinese name. It seemed his lack of experience was showing.
"OK, let me just put this water inside the tent." He opened the tent, put down the water, and stood up to follow the Caucasian man who had called him, saying, "Let's go."
A few people gathered and headed toward a distant open-air parking lot. Jimmy kept silent along the way, paying close attention to their conversation. First, he needed to ascertain these people's names, as he had not inherited the previous person's memories and was completely unfamiliar with those around him.
The person who had greeted him earlier was Jerry. His surname was unknown. Among the others, someone was called Hunter; these were the only two names he could confirm.
"Jerry, do you know where nearby I could find some temporary work? Just for a few days." Jimmy asked Jerry. He only had about $20, and the lack of money made him feel insecure.
"Huh? What happened, Jimmy? Why are you looking to do temporary work?" Jerry was surprised, as homeless people generally don't consider working. To them, food banks provide daily meals, there are tents to live in, or they could temporarily reside in churches or shelters—there was not much need to work.
"You know, I come from California; I always need to get back there. Just preparing some travel money." Jimmy responded.
"I really don't know. I'll ask around for you. Missing home, Jimmy?" Jerry looked at Jimmy and nodded. Jimmy was different from himself. He was nearly 50, and Jimmy was still young, probably in his twenties, though he never said.
"Thanks, Jerry." Jimmy patted Jerry's back.
...
At the open-air parking lot, Jimmy found their destination. Quite a few people were already in line, next to a large tent where "Feeding America" was written. There were many boxes under the tent, and staff members were packing food.
"Hi, Mike, what's in today's bags?" Jerry seemed very familiar with the employees there, greeting an older man who looked like a supervisor.
Mike was Caucasian, probably older than 60, with a horseshoe-shaped pattern of hair that was also graying.
"Hi, Jerry. It's burgers again today, but there are also a few tomatoes and cabbages. Are you guys going to cook? If not, it's just burgers."
"Burgers are fine, no one here can cook anyway." Jerry turned and joined the back of the queue, not cutting in line.
Jimmy observed their communication and thought for a moment, asking Jerry, "Are you close with Mike?"
"Of course, we've known each other for several years now. He's always worked at this food bank."
"Understood."
...After receiving a packed paper bag, the group returned to their tents. Jimmy sat down with Jerry, each having a burger to fill their stomachs, saving the remainder by packing it back into the tent.
"Let's talk now, Jimmy. Were you thinking of asking about Mike's situation?" Jerry could tell what Jimmy was about to ask with his rich life experience.
"Yes, do they need people over at Mike's place? What do you think about me going to the food bank?"
"Forget it, they would accept you if you apply now, but listen, you would only be a volunteer. You get food but nothing else, no wages." Jerry shook his head, immediately dispelling Jimmy's idea.
"Feeding America and the food bank only pay their official staff. Volunteers are recruited locally. Today, among all you saw, only Mike gets paid. It's tough to get into these organizations; they have specific requirements for their staff. We, the homeless, cannot pass their checks. Also, don't disturb their order. We all need them unless you want to live in a church. You're not religious, are you?"
"No, I'm not." Jimmy gave up the idea of finding work at the food bank. "Then what else is there to do? Work as a waiter in a restaurant?"
"It depends on the opportunity. Give me some time, I'll think of a way."
Jerry stood up and walked back to his tent, leaving Jimmy not knowing what to do next. He simply crawled into his tent to rest.