Samuel Young hung up the video call and hurriedly called his dad. A trembling voice came through the receiver: “H-hello, has my—my son’s luggage already been sent back to China so soon?”

“Dad, it’s me, your son, I’m Baby!” Samuel Young said anxiously, “Don’t listen to the school’s nonsense, I’m fine, I’m not dead, I’m alive and well in South Africa, they made a mistake!”

His father William Young’s voice instantly rose several decibels: “You’re Baby? Y-y-you’re alive?”

“Yes, the school made a mistake, the one who died in the reserve wasn’t me, it was my colleague…” Samuel Young quickly confirmed his identity.

Poor old father, at his age, started crying on the phone: “Thank heaven, thank the ancestors. His mother, his mother, stop burning paper, return the paper effigies and wreaths, tell Old Six not to contact the hearse, our son is alive!”

Then his mother grabbed the phone and started crying, ordering him to come back to China immediately and forbidding him from staying in South Africa any longer.

Samuel Young hung up the phone with a headache, then started cursing the reserve for being idiots—couldn’t they look for the person properly if someone went missing? They just went straight to reporting a death, how convenient for them.

Now that he had the Tree of Life, he wasn’t going back to the reserve, and he didn’t even plan to continue his graduate studies, so he didn’t contact the reserve again. He finished his kebab and started wandering the streets looking for a construction crew.

Nate tugged at him and said, “Lord, I’m hungry too.”

Samuel Young said with disdain, “You’re useless at everything except eating, and you never leave leftovers. It’s not even noon and you’re hungry already? Besides eating, what else can you do? What use are you to me?”

Nate said aggrievedly, “I can open safes.”

Samuel Young was taken aback, then said, “Come on, the lord will take you to eat some fruit.”

Chapter 11: Confrontation

There’s no shortage of fruit in South Africa. There are farms around Hluhluwe, and fruit is especially abundant.

Samuel Young handed the fruit stall owner a blue wildebeest note and said, “I don’t know what kind of fruit my friend likes, can you let him try a bit of everything and pick what he wants?”

The chubby black lady cheerfully took the hundred-rand bill and smiled, “Of course, of course, this child is so cute, I love kids. Let him try, I bet he’ll like avocados—kids all love avocados.”

Samuel Young couldn’t be bothered to explain. He picked up a navel orange and handed it to Nate: “Try this, South African navel oranges are famous.”

Nate bit into the orange peel and spat it out, face full of disgust: “Worse than bananas.”

“You have to peel this too!”

The navel orange was very sweet and juicy. After peeling it and tasting it, Nate smiled: “This is delicious, Lord, I like this. From now on, I won’t eat bananas, I’ll eat navel oranges.”

Samuel Young said, “You can try some others too, maybe there’s something even tastier.”

Nate shook his head while stuffing orange segments into his mouth.

Samuel Young didn’t push it. He bought a small backpack for Nate to carry, stuffed full of navel oranges. Nate walked along eating oranges, face full of satisfaction: “Lord, you’re so good to me.”

“As long as you behave, I’ll buy you a street.”

The small town had two construction companies. Samuel Young randomly picked one and talked to the boss.

There are many shantytowns in South Africa, and color steel houses are in high demand, so any construction crew can build with color steel panels—it’s not difficult.

When the boss learned he wanted to build a color steel house in the wild, he nodded and said, “That’s very simple, very simple, my Chinese friend. If you just buy the materials, it’s 140 per square meter. If we do both labor and materials, it’s 240 per square meter. How about it?”

Samuel Young asked, “How much does it cost to lay the foundation?”

Hearing this, the boss laughed: “Lay the foundation? You want to build a building with color steel panels? How many people will live there?”

Samuel Young said, “No, not a building, but I think laying a foundation makes it more level and safer, and it can keep out moisture.”

The boss shook his hand and said, “No need for a foundation. Our color steel houses are reliable—each square meter can bear 200 kilograms, and the earthquake resistance is 7.5. As for moisture, that’s even easier. Build two floors: use the ground floor as a warehouse or for livestock, and people live on the second floor, problem solved.”

Samuel Young asked again, “Is there a higher quality color steel? I need something with greater load-bearing capacity, because I want to cover the roof with elephant grass and use mud to cover the walls for insulation.”

The boss nodded, “Then you’ll need D-grade polystyrene sandwich panels, that’s an extra fifty per square meter.”

Samuel Young nodded to show he understood, then found Nate and whispered, “Aren’t you good at negotiation, scams, and business? Go, talk to him, bargain hard for me.”

Nate said confidently, “Leave it to me, Lord, I have a way to make him work for you for free!”

“Don’t go too far,” Samuel Young said. After all, he was a proletarian, not a capitalist—he had a conscience. “Just get him to give us the cost price.”

Nate nodded, then thought: what’s the difference between cost price and working for free?

He strode over with great momentum, but before he could say a word, the boss said, “Kid, go play somewhere else. I don’t talk money with kids.”

Goblin: o_O???