“It’s not in the village, so there’s no home field advantage. If you don’t want to get slapped in the face, you have to play dumb and act tough. That’s how all the main characters in popular online novels do it these days. If you want three wives and four concubines, you have to be good at pretending and deceiving. The old ‘take by force’ routine doesn’t work anymore.” David Clark quietly replied.

“Do these two girls really need to be that complicated? The one on your bunk, just throw some money at her. The one on my bunk, just spin some of those world-weary stories you’re so good at, and it’ll be a piece of cake, won’t it?” Peacock Man replied with a smirk.

“Screw you, I don’t have your androgynous face, and my stories aren’t something I just hand out—they’re my trump card! Right now, between the two of us, after tuition and living expenses, we’ve only got four or five hundred yuan of spare cash. Why don’t you try throwing some around?” David Clark gritted his teeth as he typed. In his hand was an old, battered Nokia—ugly, but tough as nails, with the tenacity of a cockroach. Even if you fished it out of a latrine and dried it in the sun, it’d still be a reliable phone for texting and calling.

Peacock Peacock was speechless.

David Clark suddenly looked up and saw Emily Thompson’s delicate face, deep in thought. When she noticed him watching her, she immediately turned away.

David Clark touched his face and muttered softly to himself, Could it be that this girl has seen through my true nature? Well, if that’s the case, don’t blame me for being a scoundrel for once. Back in Zhao Family Village, I was notorious for digging up ancestral graves, climbing widows’ walls, and being the kind of villain who’d kill an enemy without bothering to bury them.

Chapter 2: The Flamboyant Uncle Eight Taels

After lights out, neither Emily Thompson nor Claire Sutton slept well. There were still seven or eight hours left on the journey. If David Clark didn’t look and act so harmless, Emily Thompson and Claire Sutton would have chosen to stay up all night. By the early hours, Emily Thompson—who hadn’t even taken off a single piece of clothing—had already fallen asleep. Claire Sutton, known in the nightlife scene as the little queen of the clubs, couldn’t resist her late-night snack habit. She quietly got out of bed, not daring to turn on the light for fear that the two guys in the lower bunks would see her in her pajamas and turn into beasts. She put on a jacket, grabbed her wallet and phone, and tiptoed out. But when she opened the door, she saw the two guys she’d tried so hard not to disturb sitting right there on the corridor chairs. The handsome one, acting like a young master, was smoking with style, while the harmless Eight Taels brother was still engrossed in his German adult magazine, looking thoroughly entertained. As Claire Sutton left the room, the proud Peacock Man kept puffing on a cigarette that cost less than thirty cents, not even glancing at Claire Sutton, who’d been “tsundere” in kindergarten and had kept it up for fifteen years straight. But David Clark quickly put away his magazine and greeted her in a friendly, explanatory tone: “We were worried Leo would come over to bum cigarettes and wake you up, and since both Sparrow and I are traveling far from home for the first time, we couldn’t sleep, so we just decided to chat out here.”

Claire Sutton thought to herself that this Eight Taels guy was really a simple, honest fellow. She forced herself to suppress a yawn that would ruin her image and asked, “Is there anywhere on the train to buy a late-night snack?”

“There is, in car 8, not far from ours.” David Clark smiled, his gaze quickly scanning the beauty in front of him, not daring to linger even a second on her lovely chest or long legs. Maybe not quite campus queen level, but at least she’d be a department beauty in college. In his mind, David Clark gave her a score—she’d get a 75.

For Eight Taels, any girl above passing grade was worth protecting, and any “cabbage” above 75 deserved respect. As for those above 85, you had to go for it no matter the odds. In his not-so-world-weary 21 years, David Clark had only ever chased after one goddess above 85, and in the face of a gap that everyone else saw as a chasm, that English-flunking fool got dumped so hard he became the classic cautionary tale of a toad wanting to eat swan meat.

In Claire Sutton’s dictionary, “thank you” didn’t exist. She glanced down the long corridor and at the doors that seemed ready to reach out and grab her as soon as she walked by. She felt a chill. Sharing a room with Peacock Man and the average guy was already enough to make the usually nude-sleeping Queen Song obediently put on pajamas. Normally a fan of erotic horror movies, just imagining being dragged into a compartment gave her goosebumps. So she used the kind of coyness only a beauty could pull off, looked at David Clark—who didn’t dare meet her eyes—and softly asked, “Can you come with me?”

“No problem,” David Clark said heartily, tossing the magazine to his buddy. Truth be told, he liked her perfume—it felt familiar. Little secrets and details like that were lost on straightforward guys like Sparrow and Leo, so he didn’t bother explaining.

When they passed the restroom, David Clark stopped and knocked on the door in a distinctive two-light, one-heavy rhythm. The door opened immediately, and Claire Sutton quickly covered her nose and stepped back. Amid thick smoke, a head poked out, asking in confusion, “Uncle Eight Taels, what’s up?”

Then this guy, who made a grand entrance but would soon exit in disgrace, saw the “cabbage” behind David Clark and immediately understood. Thinking he’d grasped the main point, he slyly gave a thumbs-up and grinned, “Uncle, you want to borrow the room for that, right? As expected, Uncle Eight Taels is awesome—just a few hours on the train and you’ve already scored one. I’ll clear out and give you and Auntie some space.”