Chapter 1285: Five Pairs of Road Wheels

Master Xie’s face split open like a man who has just heard his name called at an award ceremony. Every wrinkle smoothed into a broad, uncomplicated grin.

The woman beside him exhaled — barely audible, a sound like paper settling.

Roland caught it. Since he had begun absorbing the magic cores in the Dream World his sensitivity had sharpened, tuned to small signals the way a good navigator reads the wind off water. Qingqing stood half a step back from Master Xie, posture composed, face professionally neutral; but the sigh had slipped through.

He knew her situation. She was the secretary and financial adviser Garde had assigned to the project — a gifted graduate of a prominent university, efficient and precise. Only she knew that the Clover Group bore every expense here, that the “actual boss” contributed nothing but directions and cheerful declarations about doubling salaries. She thought Roland was using the corporation. She was not wrong, exactly, though she lacked the context to understand what for.

Roland looked at her directly. “Of course this is the joint achievement of everyone here. If we succeed, I’ll double the salary for everyone in the plant.”

“Yes, quite right, very considerate,” Master Xie confirmed with vigorous nodding.

Qingqing’s composure cracked, briefly. “No — I didn’t mean — I was only wondering when the corporation would see a return on —”

“It will.” Roland waved her worry aside. “All my friends have serious ambitions. The return will come. Wait for the raise.”

Master Xie looked like a man whose childhood dream had arrived late but intact.

“By the way,” Roland said, turning, “I have a new project. Qingqing, come with me to the office.”

“Boss.” Master Xie stopped him at the threshold. “Any other requirements for the tractor? Style? Color?”

He genuinely believed Roland was producing props for a collector. Roland shook his head, hiding a smile. “As long as it functions, I don’t care about aesthetics. But —”

“Please.”

“If at all possible — five pairs of road wheels in the final product.”

Master Xie patted his chest with the authority of a man who has already solved harder problems. “Not an issue. I considered mobility from the start. Leave it to me.”

The workers had all poured outside to watch the test run, leaving the plant floor quiet. Roland noticed, as he and Qingqing crossed through the workshop toward the office, that she had extended the distance between them from two meters to five.

He found this genuinely funny. Garde had not told her Roland was a martialist. She could have moved to fifty meters and it would not have helped her. But Roland had no interest in her apprehension about him — he only needed his workers to work hard and their output to be useful.

He sat down, put his feet under the desk, and got straight to the point.

“I have a friend —”

There it is, Qingqing thought.

Every new project. Every single time. Some friend with a peculiar obsession, and this man who wore street-vendor clothes and drove a battered van would hand her a specification and a blank check in the same breath. She studied people; it was the skill that had landed her at the Clover Group so quickly after graduation. She knew what money looked like, and what the absence of it looked like, and this man was the second kind. The truly wealthy kept low profiles, yes — but a low profile was a costume, and you could always see the quality underneath: the cut of the cloth, the weight of a watch, the particular ease that only came from never needing to count. This man had none of it. His jacket had been sold from a table on a sidewalk. His vehicle was one breakdown from the scrapyard.

He was simply poor.

How could a poor man have wealthy friends? She had been quietly cataloguing possibilities: that Garde had been deceived; that this plant was a front for something she did not want to understand; that Mr. Roland was some manner of eccentric genius who simply hadn’t noticed his own poverty. None of the options fully satisfied.

Then he said radio communication, and she stopped thinking about him and started thinking about the problem, because this one was at least straightforward in its absurdity. Functional walkie-talkies were available online for less than a hundred yuan. Antique telegraph sets were sold at collectors’ markets. There was absolutely no reason to manufacture every component from scratch in a disused factory. Yet here was her boss, describing a team of hobbyists building radio gear by hand, every part machined on-site, the quality not merely acceptable but deliberately rough — he specifically wanted the equipment to look desolate, improvised, like something dug out of a ruin.

She pressed her fingers against her forehead and thought about her career.

“I don’t need credentialed engineers,” Roland continued. “New graduates, hobbyists, people who love radio as a craft. Set up a room outside the main building — I’d rather not travel back and forth. Whatever equipment they request, approve it. But all components must originate here. Rough quality is fine. Rough is better, actually.” He paused. “My friend has specific tastes.”

“That’s different from authorizing a salary increase. I’ll need to report to Mr. Garde.”

“That’s fine,” Roland said, without any concern whatsoever. “He’ll approve it.”

She was still composing the message in her head when his phone rang.

Qingqing left the office as Roland picked up.

“Hello, Mr. Roland.” Rock’s voice was the sort of calm that came from long practice. The Defender of the Martialist Association. “I have a task for you. Are you available to visit Greenleaf Sanatorium this afternoon?”

The Design Bureau of Graycastle ran on the Association’s goodwill, and that goodwill ran through Rock. Roland could not decline.

He stood and reached for his jacket.

The Fallen Evils had been conspicuously quiet since he had eliminated the creatures from the last Erosion. Quiet enough to suggest intent. They were not gone — they could not be gone, not with the Martialist Contest pulling Awakened practitioners toward the city from every direction, each one carrying Forces of Nature that the Fallen Evils hungered for. The Prism City incident had not frightened them away. They had simply withdrawn to regroup.

Any new information from the Association was worth the afternoon.

He drove toward Greenleaf Sanatorium, the road unremarkable, the city going about its business around him as though nothing in it was contested.

Chapter 1285 - Five Pairs of Road

Wheels Translator: Transn __ Editor: Transn Master Xie’s face instantly split into a bright smile, but the woman next to him heaved an almost inaudible sigh. Roland naturally noticed her. After he started to absorb the magic cores in the Dream World, his power continuously grew, and he also became more sensitive about the subtle changes around him. Although few people noticed the woman, Roland still caught sight of her in the corner of his eyes. This woman was the secretary and fiancial adviser sent by Garde. Her name was Qingqing, and she had just graduated from a very prominent university. Qingqing was a pretty, talented and efficient worker, a gifted woman, so to speak. Only she knew that the Clover Group bore all the expenses incurred by this project, and the “actual boss” did not have to pay anything. Perhaps, Qingqing thought Roland was taking advantage of the corporation, so she did not have a very high opinion of him. Roland, however, did not care about that. He simply needed to give her a raise as well so that she would not complain anymore. “Of course, this is the joint work of all the staff,” Roland said while smiling at the secretary. “If we succeed, I’ll double the salary for everyone in the plant!” “Yes, quite right. You’re very considerate, boss,” Master Xie rejoined while nodding vigorously. “No… This is not what I meant….” Qingqing had not expected that Roland would see through her mind. Abashed, she said, “I was just wondering when the corporation could profit…” Roland waved his hand and said, “We will one day. Don’t worry. All of my friends have great ambitions. The corporation will definitely profit from this project. Just wait for the raise.” “Awesome. Awesome,” Master Xie said as though he had realized his long- term dream. All the wrinkles on his smiling face were smoothened. “By the way,” Roland said while looking toward Qingqing. “I have a new project to work on. Come with me to the office.” “Boss,” Master Xie stopped Roland when the latter was about to leave. “Do you have any other requirements for this tractor? For example, the style and the color?” It appeared that Master Xie really believed that Roland was making props. Roland shook his head in amusement and said, “As long as it functions well, I don’t care about such things very much. But…” “Please go ahead.” “If possible, I wish the final products could have five pairs of road wheels.” “Not a problem at all,” Master Xie promised while patting his chest. “I thought about the mobility of the machine when I designed it. Place the matter in my hand.” As all the workers in the plant ran out to watch the testing of the tractor, the whole plant became exceptionally quiet. Roland noticed that Qingqing had distanced from him after they entered the workshop. She had moved a little farther from him, and the distance between the two increased from the initial two meters to five meters. Roland was quite amused at her action. It seemed that Garde had not told her that Roland was actually a martialist. Otherwise, she should have known that when a martialist attempted to sexually harrass a girl, the girl would not be able to escape even if she was 50 meters away from the former. But Roland did not care about his personal image among his employees, as he only wanted his workers to work hard. Roland sat straight in his seat after getting into the messy office. He jumped right into the business and said, “Well, I have a friend…” _ “Here it goes.” _ Qingqing thought to herself. Every time he talked about a new project, he started with a friend of his. Who would like to squander thousands of hundreds of dollars on tons of rubbish? Qingqing knew that some wealthy people did have strange hobbies, but the boss in front of her did not look remotely like a successful entrepreneur from an affluent family. She was confident of her own judgement. She graduated from a top university and knew a lot of wealthy people, but she had never seen anyone dress so simple as the boss. True rich people always treated themselves well even if they wanted to keep a low profile. They might purchase clothes by an indie brand, but what they wore and used must be expensive andof good quality. Many young people tended not to, in fact, exhibit their wealth to the public, but this Mr. Roland was wearing the cheapest clothes normally sold by street vendors, without wearing any accessories. Even his vehicle was a battered mini van. He was not keeping a low profile at all… He was simply poor! How was that possible that he had wealthy friends? Qingqing was hired by the Clover Group, the biggest corporation in this city, right after her graduation. She wanted to add some impressing work experience to her resume, but she had not expected that her boss would send her to this small factory to look after so many weird projects. She even started to suspect whether Mr. Garde was scammed, or whether he intended to use this plant to do some shady business. She was astonished after hearing Roland mention radio communication. Qingqing massaged her forehead while letting out a sigh. This kind of walkie-talkie only cost less than ￥100 online, and they could also directly purchase an antique telegraph machine without necessarily making it by themselves. However, Roland wanted to produce them from scratch like the tractor. Everything must be hand-maded, including all the parts. This was purely wasting money! “I don’t need professionals. New graduates or people who love radio technologies would do. You can set up a room outside the plant as their office so that I don’t have to travel back and forth,” Roland explained in detail. “Whatever equipment they need, just approve it. Remember, however, that all the parts should be produced here. They don’t have to be perfect though. In fact, the worse the quality is, the better. Make them as desolate anddilapidatedas possible. My friend likes that kind of stuff.” “That’s different than giving a raise. I’ll have to report to Mr. Garde.” “That’s fine,” Roland said indifferently. “I think he’ll agree.” Just then, his cell phone rang. It was from the Martialist Association. Roland picked up the phone after Qingqing left. “Hello, Mr. Roland,” Rock, the Defender’s calming voice came over the line. “I have a new task for you. Are you available to pay a visit to Greenleaf Sanatorium this afternoon?” SincetheDesign Bureau of Graycastle entirely relied on Rock’s support, Roland could not refuse the request. AsRoland had eliminated the magic creatures coming out of the Erosion last time,the Fallen Evils had been pretty quite recently as if they had sensed the danger and withdrawn from this city. As such, the Taquila witches did not find many Fallen Evils to fight. Roland believed that thingswere not that simple. The Fallen Evils were aiming for the Forces of Nature of the Awakened, through which they could further weaken the Dream World.With the attack of the Prism City and the beginning of the Martialist Contest, many martialists had gathered here, so the Fallen Evilshad no reason to leave. It would save Roland a lot of time if the Association obtained new information regarding the Fallen Evils.