In the oddly echoing voices, two men with oversized clothes, multicolored hair, and strange hairstyles approached Jason.
The leader had a chain around his neck as thick as an index finger.
Probably iron, or stainless steel.
It somewhat resembled a dog chain.
A malevolent smile spread across the faces of the two men as they stood before Jason.
The scene before him was a bit odd.
Though the hierarchy of contempt was as omnipresent as the food chain.
Such a simple scheme.
Yet, it was certainly effective.
Jason was confident that after such an incident, even the most well-meaning people would harbor suspicions.
It’s not easy for people to trust one another.
Building trust takes a long time.
The pastries really are delicious.
The sweet, soft steamed buns had been chewed and swallowed, filling the empty stomach with a sense of satisfaction.
As Jason took out the second steamed bun, he glanced at the other side of the pastry bag.
This side displayed the pastry shop’s advertisement.
Quite a simple design, it just featured an image of a dog sprawled atop a pile of pastries, with “Watchdog Pastry House” written at the very top.
Even if it weren’t for the act of searching for his sister, this name would sooner or later trouble someone.
Thinking this, Jason took out the third steamed bun.
There were a total of three steamed buns in the bag.
After eating the last one, Jason dusted off his hands.
He folded the bag neatly and placed it in the pushcart.
He planned to go to the pastry shop, firstly to settle the score for the just-acquired money, and secondly to give that female pastry chef a heads-up.
It wasn’t because he hadn’t had enough to eat and wanted more.
‘Watchdog Pastry House’ was at 115 Pea Corner Street.
Both the bag and a slip of paper stated this address.
And the Central Park was right opposite Pea Corner Street.
Pushing the cart, Jason didn’t attempt to cross the road directly.
Standing at the corner, he only started pushing the cart across when the green light came on.
A wandering homeless individual, squatting by the roadside, had been eyeing Jason closely, who had just stood not far away. Upon realizing that Jason hadn’t noticed him at all and was merely passing by, the homeless man breathed a sigh of relief.
Then, he lifted the piece of paper in his hand toward another passerby approaching from behind.
On it, written in bold black marker, was—
Jason, of course, saw such a sign.
And after crossing the street, he flipped through the pushcart.
Soon, he found a similar sign.
However, his read: I’m very hungry, I need food.
Jason chuckled softly and then forcefully used both hands.
With a crisp sound, the cardboard turned into a crumpled ball.
A real man doesn’t eat the food of pity!
He had limbs to work with, wasn’t dumb or demented, nor old and decrepit.
The talent for “Predator” deep within his soul echoed the shouts of those pursuing great beasts, relentlessly telling him that he was a hunter, not a beggar.
With a raise of his hand, Jason tossed the ball of paper into a trash can.
Moving forward, Jason spent 0.1 yuan at a newspaper stand to buy today’s newspaper.
The newspaper not only provided Jason with the exact date but also gave him a rough idea of his purchasing power.
It also gave him more concrete evidence that the two hooligans were directed by someone else.
Moreover, the person directing them was quite generous.
With such speculation, Jason arrived in front of 15 Pea Corner Street.
The sign for ‘Watchdog Pastry House’ was already hung up.
There was also a sign hung on the door indicating that they were open for business.
However, the showcase had been closed from inside.
Jason raised his hand and knocked on the door.
Footsteps were audible inside, but nobody responded.