Chapter 1: Three Hundred Is Not Enough, I Want One Thousand!

On the outskirts of Peng City, a cramped and dingy temporary workers' dormitory stood in silence. Jiang Butong lay sprawled on the bed, his vacant eyes fixed on the filthy, mold-streaked ceiling as he drifted into a daze.

In his previous life, he came from a privileged family. After graduation, his exceptional expertise allowed him to navigate the commercial world for decades, eventually transforming his family's medium-sized factory into the local leading enterprise. Yet, unexpectedly, a single incident of drunk driving...

...and a massive truck had sent him straight into this era.

Jiang Butong blinked and turned to glance at the advertisement calendar pasted on the wall. A row of bold red characters announced that it was now the year 1994.

His current identity was that of a poor university student from a remote mountain village, working as a summer laborer with his fellow villagers to earn living expenses during the vacation.

"Well, perhaps, since I’m here, I should make peace with it," he murmured to himself, shifting his gaze.

He had only awakened in this body the day before, spending the entire night digesting its memories. By this morning, he had been utterly exhausted.

"When have I ever suffered like this?" he chuckled bitterly, raising his hand to look at the blood-blistered palm and the foot wrapped in several strips of rag.

"Xiaotong? You’ve rested all afternoon. How are you feeling now?" Suddenly, a cacophony of voices erupted outside the dormitory. A burly, yet unmistakably caring voice barged in with a wave of sweaty odor.

"Xiaotong, how are you? I brought you some food—why don’t you sit up and eat a little?" Two figures, one stout and one thin, blocked the dim glow of the incandescent bulb over Jiang Butong’s bed.

He glanced sideways at them, a warmth rising in his chest. They were his fellow villagers, distant cousins: the slightly heavier one was called Jiang Dazhuang, and the thinner one, Jiang Yuan.

After Jiang Butong injured his foot that morning, the two risked being fired by defying the foreman and carrying him back to the dormitory.

Their families were even poorer than his; before coming here, they’d decided to rely on this job to earn money for building homes and finding wives.

"This era still has its merits—at least, genuine affection still exists between people," Jiang Butong thought, gazing deeply at the lunchbox in Jiang Dazhuang’s hand, a shadow flickering in his eyes.

"Brother Zhuang, did that pig-headed foreman really fire you two as well?" He took the lunchbox and asked in a low voice.

"Ah, well... Xiaotong, how did you know?" Jiang Dazhuang looked at Jiang Yuan, surprised.

Jiang Yuan was equally perplexed.

"How could I not know the standard of food at this miserable construction site? Every day it’s just rice soaked in hot water, not a drop of oil," Jiang Butong smiled, explaining further. "Just look at the oily sheen around the edge of this lunchbox—it’s obviously bought from outside..."

"Heh, see? I told you we couldn’t fool Xiaotong, but you wouldn’t believe me," Jiang Yuan chuckled, pulling a crumpled wad of cash from his pocket. After glancing at Jiang Dazhuang, he handed several large green bills to Jiang Butong.

"Xiaotong, well... even though we lost the job, the foreman was quite straightforward with our wages. He settled over two hundred for the three of us—here’s a hundred for you."

Jiang Butong was eating when he heard this and paused, frowning at Jiang Yuan.

"Brother Yuan, did you just say the pig-head only paid us a little over two hundred?"

Jiang Dazhuang, oblivious, glanced at the glistening piece of braised pork in the lunchbox, swallowed, and nodded.

Jiang Butong frowned in thought, then abruptly set the lunchbox aside and pushed himself off the bed.

Jiang Dazhuang hurried to help him.

Jiang Yuan, holding the money tight, turned pale as understanding dawned.

"Xiaotong, are you saying that bastard cheated us?"

Steadying himself, Jiang Butong sneered, "Everyone else gets three hundred a month. We worked for over half a month—shouldn’t that add up to at least five hundred forty or fifty?"

"Son of a bitch! No wonder he paid so quickly!" Jiang Yuan cursed, marching out the door, calling back as he left, "Dazhuang, watch over Xiaotong here—I’m going to settle accounts with that bastard!"

"You damn turtles still loitering here!" But before Jiang Yuan could exit, he collided with a fat, pig-faced middle-aged man.

Shoving Jiang Yuan aside, the man led a pack of men into the room, glanced at Jiang Butong with disgust, and barked, "You three are already fired—get out of the dormitory!"

He waved a hand before his nose in revulsion.

"Zhu Zhang, we’ll leave, but is your wage settlement correct?" Jiang Butong steadied himself, standing on one foot, and smirked at the man.

"Exactly! Why is it everyone else gets three hundred a month, but the three of us only get two hundred eighty for more than half a month?" Jiang Yuan glared at Zhu Zhang, full of fury.

"Correct your mother’s ass!" Zhu Zhang snapped, jabbing his finger at Jiang Yuan. "You three are the laziest in the whole crew, always causing trouble! Want full wages? Keep dreaming! Get out now!"

At his words, several burly thugs stepped forward, cornering Jiang Yuan against the wall.

Watching the scene, Jiang Butong suddenly smiled.

In his previous life, he had employed some thugs, but even those useless fellows would never stoop to oppressing migrant workers so shamelessly.

"What the hell are you laughing at?" Zhu Zhang snarled, growing angrier.

"Does the Labor Bureau know?" Jiang Butong smiled.

"Does your contractor boss know?"

"Know your damn—You lot, go teach that cripple a lesson!" Zhu Zhang paused, then pointed at Jiang Butong and cursed.

The thugs started toward Jiang Butong.

Jiang Dazhuang instinctively shrank, but in the next moment, he strode forward, legs trembling, and blocked Jiang Butong.

"Foreman Zhu, you can’t touch Xiaotong!" Jiang Butong felt a surge of warmth, smiled, and gently pushed Jiang Dazhuang aside, showing Zhu Zhang his foot wrapped in rags.

"Old Zhu, tell me, does this count as a work injury? Do you remember how the crew at the neighboring site lost their contract?"

Zhu Zhang hesitated, his expression shifting. The neighboring crew had lost their qualification because a worker’s injury hadn’t been handled properly and the issue was reported up, nearly shutting the whole site down.

"I’ll give you another three hundred! You and those two idiots get out now!" Zhu Zhang growled, his eyes darting nervously.

"Three hundred isn’t enough. I want a thousand," Jiang Butong replied coldly, raising a finger.

"You..." Zhu Zhang’s face flushed with rage.

"What? You’re not willing? Fine. Tomorrow, expect summons from the Bureau of Industry and Commerce and the Labor Bureau," Jiang Butong said mockingly, turning to pack his belongings.

Zhu Zhang stood rooted, finally gritting his teeth, "A bunch of paupers—damn it, a thousand, fine! I’ll pay!"

Jiang Butong breathed a silent sigh of relief. He’d gambled that Zhu Zhang wouldn’t dare escalate the matter, so he’d bluffed a threat.

Zhu Zhang tossed a wad of green hundred-yuan notes onto the floor, cursing, "I’ll be back in ten minutes! If you’re still here then, don’t blame me for what happens!"

With that, he slammed the door and left.

Once the thugs followed, Jiang Butong’s body wavered.

Jiang Dazhuang rushed to steady him.

"Brother Yuan, Brother Zhuang, take the money—let’s go!" Jiang Butong signaled to Jiang Yuan, patting Jiang Dazhuang’s shoulder urgently.

"What about these things..." Jiang Yuan made no objection and quickly hoisted Jiang Butong onto his back. But Jiang Dazhuang looked at the few scattered clothes on the bed with regret.

"Brother Zhuang, don’t fret—those things aren’t worth much. Trust me, with this thousand yuan, the three of us are about to make something of ourselves!" Jiang Butong reassured, urging Jiang Yuan to hurry.

And so, they left.