From 7 a.m. to 1 p.m., they hustled back and forth three times, covering five different cafés, even raising prices twice in between.
Hansel Grant was exhausted, panting with his tongue out, sweat dripping from his forehead.
Kane's back was soaked with sweat as he squatted by the roadside, wiping his face while counting money.
They'd turned two hundred yuan into three hundred seventy-eight, with two lunchboxes left—perfect for one each.
Honestly, Kane wasn't in it for the money; he just wanted to clear his head. Now it seemed the plan was solid—they made money, but the profit margin was too thin.
Still, Kane wasn't disappointed. What kind of massive profit could you expect from just two hundred yuan? You can't expect thousands, right?
Before his rebirth, he'd never done business. Today was all about experiencing what it felt like to earn money.
But to be honest, it felt like a loss. He'd given away five packs of Yuxi cigarettes, costing over a hundred yuan, plus half a day of hard work. Both of them were dog-tired, and they only made seventy-something yuan.
But what if the capital was bigger? What if they dealt in something more valuable? Doubling seventy-eight yuan wasn't bad at all.
Kane pulled out five ten-yuan bills and handed them to Hansel Grant. The guy instantly perked up, clutching the money and grinning, "Thanks, bro!"
"Bro, are we doing this again tomorrow?"
"Hell no. I'm dead tired. We only made seventy-eight, and I gave you fifty. What's left barely buys a pack of smokes."
Kane grumbled, but in his heart, he was still thinking about his first bucket of gold.
Where could he make his first big score?
In all those rebirth novels, the protagonists struck it rich with ease. Why wasn't it working for him?
If all else failed, he'd convince his folks to sell the house and invest directly in Bitcoin and Moutai stocks.
Just then, the lunchbox vendor approached, spatula still in hand. He stared at Kane for a moment, then leaned in mysteriously, offering him a White General cigarette.
"How much did you make from those two hundred yuan's worth of lunchboxes?"
Kane accepted the cigarette, cool as ever. "Four hundred sixty."
Hansel Grant blinked in surprise. Wasn't it three seventy-eight?
But seeing Kane's calm demeanor, he swallowed his words and quietly looked away.
…
"Turn two hundred into four hundred and sixty?"
"Make two and a half days' worth of money in just one day?"
The old man selling lunchboxes immediately grew envious. Grinning foolishly, he hitched up his pants and squatted down next to Kane Brook. The mixed scent of greasy food and stale cigarettes hit Kane right in the face, making him feel a bit lightheaded.
But Kane didn't say anything. He simply shifted slightly to the side and tucked the cigarette the old man handed him behind his ear.
At that moment, he didn't look like a recent high school graduate at all, more like a street-smart dropout hustling for a living.
"Hey man, why don't you tell me where to sell lunchboxes like that?"
Kane seemed to have anticipated this, casually raising two fingers. Give me two hundred yuan, old man, and I'll spill the secret."
The old man's eyes widened like copper bells, flashing with sharp calculation. "Two hundred bucks? I barely make that much in a whole day!"
"Yeah, but with a new spot, you'll make four hundred instead."
"How about you tell me first, and I'll see if it's worth it?" The old man hesitated. Two hundred bucks wasn't pocket change.
"We just went to the internet café street."
"East end of Xinghai Road?"
"That's the one."
"Pfft, I thought it'd be some prime spot. Business is decent there, sure, but the city inspectors crack down hard. I went once, and they impounded my cart. Still haven't gotten it back."
"I'm not done yet. Give me two hundred, and I'll spill the rest. If it's no good, I'll return the money. I'm still a student—no way I'd scam you, right?" Kane's voice dripped with temptation.
The lunchbox seller mulled it over, then finally pulled out two hundred yuan from his pocket. "Alright, talk. But if it's worthless, I want my money back."
Kane rolled the bills up and stuffed them in his pocket. "There's a foot massage parlor on that street called Royal Bay. Inside the gate, there's a big courtyard. Seven internet cafés have fire exits that lead straight into it. Oh, and the old man at the gate? He loves Red Tower cigarettes. Most importantly, that place is off the radar of city inspectors, so you won't have to worry about them."
"What good's the gatekeeper? You think he'd just let me waltz in there to sell lunchboxes?"
Kane chuckled calmly. "He's the owner's dad. Just guards the place to kill time."
The lunchbox seller pondered this, then broke into a grin. "Alright, man. Next time you buy lunch from me, it's on the house!"
"Sounds good, sounds good."
"Kid, you've already got the ins and outs of a foot massage joint figured out? You're going places!"
Kane clasped his hands together in a mock bow. "You flatter me!"
Standing nearby, Alexander Quinn had been stunned silent. He grabbed Kane's arm, his eyes filled with admiration. "Kane, you've really been to a place like that? Seriously?!"
"It's just something every man experiences."
"Huh?"
"Enough with the questions. We made some money today—let's get something nice to eat."
Kane stood up, brushed off his pants, and strolled down the main road, pockets stuffed with over seven hundred yuan.
Watching Kane's figure fade into the distance, Hansel Grant felt as if his friend carried a maturity beyond his years, as if Kane had already experienced the ups and downs of life.
Like one of those characters in TV dramas—still laughing and joking on the surface, but with eyes so deep and sharp they seemed to pierce right through to the truth of things.
They'd busted their backs all morning, barely making over three hundred yuan—barely enough profit to cover a pack of cigarettes. But Kane? He'd just opened his mouth and claimed he made four hundred and sixty.
The craziest part? That sharp old lunchbox vendor actually bought it, coughing up two hundred yuan just for an address.
Pulling that kind of fast talk on grown-ups without even flinching—that was something Alexander could never do. Heck, he couldn't even haggle at the market when helping his mom buy groceries.
No wonder Kane didn't care about getting rejected when he confessed his feelings.
Everyone in class thought Kane was just pretending to be cool, trying to save face after getting shot down. But right now, Alexander wasn't so sure anymore. Maybe Kane really hadn't cared at all.
Still, the moment Sophie Chase crossed his mind, Alexander's gossip radar lit up again.
"Kane, how's it going with the goddess Sophie?"
Kane shot him a glance. "What's going on with her and me?"
"You've liked her for three years! You're just giving up like that? She said she'd consider it after college starts!" Alexander pressed on, genuinely confused. Summer break was almost over, and college was right around the corner. Why quit now after holding on for so long?
"She says she'll consider it in college? Well, I don't feel like waiting anymore. Trusting pretty girls is like expecting pigs to climb trees."