Shawn Lawrence, who had come into a bit of unexpected money, had already dashed a few steps away. Hearing the words, he stopped in his tracks, slowly turned around, and grinned mischievously, saying, “Master, you really missed the mark this time. You didn’t foresee that I lost my job—there’s nowhere for me to get a better one, right? …Haha, no need for tea, just take today’s fortune-telling fee as my treat…”

As he spoke, he really did dash off, darting straight through the park’s path, glancing back several times with a smile at the unmoving Old Sullivan. In the blink of an eye, his figure slipped out the park gate and disappeared onto the street…

Missed the mark, missed the mark. Only after Shawn Lawrence’s figure vanished did Old Sullivan gently tap his own forehead, as if suddenly enlightened. This place was only two bus stops from the Jinhe District Talent Market, and with Shawn Lawrence’s cheap suit and battered bag, he was all show and no substance—looked like a white-collar worker, but his pockets were much emptier than his face was clean.

Now he finally saw clearly. Old Sullivan casually pulled out a small notebook from his pocket and, gripping a short pencil, quickly sketched a few strokes, like a rough sketch. In just a few lines, a portrait appeared on the page: crew-cut hair, broad forehead, big eyes, a prominent nose and wide mouth—an utterly ordinary face, neither handsome nor ugly, nothing particularly flawed nor remarkable. Dress him up a bit and he’d be a city dweller; dress him down and he’d be a country folk. If there was anything unusual, it was that this unremarkable fellow had a striking name. Old Sullivan smiled and wrote that name heavily on the drawing: Shawn Lawrence.

Talent, real talent. Old Sullivan looked at his sketch, recalling how this young man seemed honest and sincere when silent, sly and sneaky when he grinned, and clear and logical when he spoke. He couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something strange about this person he hadn’t yet discovered. He gazed for a long time, as if lost in thought, then looked up at the spot where the man had disappeared. Thinking that such a talent had gone to the talent market, he shook his head regretfully and muttered to himself, “Oh, if this kind of talent is looking for a job at the talent market, what a waste.”

With that thought, Old Sullivan stood up, put away his notebook, walked over to the side of the rockery, bid farewell to the other old men who had already started playing chess, and strolled out of the park, ambling toward the talent market…

Chapter 05: Talent, Talent—As Vast as Mountains and Seas

Aside from Beijing, Shanghai, and Guangzhou, a population of over seven million makes Zhongzhou one of the larger second-tier cities. In this city, the two most crowded places are the farmers’ market and the talent market. At the farmers’ market, there are more agricultural products than people, but at the talent market, there are more people than produce at the farmers’ market. The consequences of university expansion and the unrestricted use of chemical fertilizers and ripening agents are basically the same: poor quality, massive quantity, and severe backlog.

Don’t believe it? See for yourself—over four hundred booths, and before nine o’clock, the place is already packed. Crowds cluster in front of company billboards like piles of tomatoes, heads bobbing everywhere. In front of the booths, people are packed tighter than bundles of celery, not a gap to be found. If you look down from the eighteenth floor of the talent market building, your eyes will see nothing but a sea of people, so dense it gives you goosebumps. If you’re actually in the crowd, that’s real tragedy—people in front, behind, to your left and right, your ears filled with all kinds of noise, your nose assaulted by various body odors, and all around you are faces full of confusion, anxiety, and tension. Anyone would start to wonder: if 2012 really comes, it probably won’t look much different from this.

That’s the surface, but even in this environment, there are restless ones—Shawn Lawrence is one of them. Though not tall, and theoretically at a disadvantage in this setting, reality often defies theory. This unremarkable-looking guy weaves through the recruitment booths like a fish in water—targeting precisely, acting decisively. He’s nothing like those fresh graduates or soon-to-be graduates wandering around the talent market in a daze, not even knowing which way to go.

Just then, Shawn Lawrence spotted a company recruiting for a marketing manager position. His eyes darted, and seeing a gap in the crowd at the booth, he squeezed in without any pretense of politeness.

As he squeezed in, someone turned around and complained, “Hey… what are you pushing for?”

It was a bespectacled man, holding his resume high, glaring at Shawn Lawrence. Clearly a student new to the job hunt—daring to grumble but not to make a scene. Shawn Lawrence pointed behind him, his face instantly contorted in pain, and cried out theatrically, “Ow, ow, ow… the guy behind is squishing me! Bro, give me some space… I’m getting crushed here…”

This fellow clearly didn’t see through Shawn Lawrence’s ploy, glanced sympathetically at the short Shawn Lawrence, shifted his body a bit, and turned his head even further. But he didn’t see anyone pushing from behind. Realizing he’d been cut in line by a shameless interloper, he turned back to protest, only to find that guy had already squeezed ahead by two spots and was now standing right in front of the recruitment desk… Work experience is important, but job-hunting experience is even more so—that’s the difference. The bespectacled man could only glare in frustration, unable to do anything.

“Huh? A secretary major? You’re applying for a marketing position?”

Behind the recruitment desk, a middle-aged man looked at the unremarkable Shawn Lawrence who had squeezed to the front, surprised.