Chapter 20

Where’s Johnny?

A familiar yet repulsive voice came from beside him; the apprentice rolled his eyes upward, looking at Lans, “You can’t call the boss by his first name—you call him Boss, or Boss!”

“And you didn’t come back during peak hours—the boss is furious, and he’s going to dock you a big chunk of pay!”

As he spoke, the apprentice wore a smug, gleeful grin.

His own life was already miserable—he’d been here over half a year and had learned nothing but how to knead dough.

The fat boss was a meticulous man; in guarding his recipe, the apprentice still didn’t know exactly how much of each ingredient to use, or in what order—only the general list of what went into the flour!

In those six months, he’d learned only how to knead dough hard, shape dough bases, and put them into the oven.

As for everything else, he’d mastered nothing.

Yet he carried an inexplicable sense of superiority, especially when facing Lans.

Of course, he could find some psychological comfort in Lans—that’s why he kept doing it.

But since his mother came last time, that superiority seemed to be fading—or rather, his bluff had been exposed; he had nothing left to be proud of.

Yet habits ran deep, and his inexplicable hostility toward Lans kept him doing it, even now.

Lans paid no mind to the apprentice’s words—he even drove another knife in.

“Just because he sucked your mom doesn’t mean he’s your father—if I were your father, I’d be heartbroken.”

“At least by frequency, he doesn’t even qualify!”

The apprentice froze—he swore he’d never heard anything so filthy, cruel, or piercing.

Lans walked past him without pause, adding another slash: “Better mop the floor clean before he shows up, or your mom’s gonna suffer again.”

Several seconds passed before the apprentice reacted—he spun around, shouting Lans’s name.

Lans paused slightly, turned his head, and said, “If I were you, I’d shut up and lick the floor clean—not rage helplessly.”

When it came to cruelty, Lans was undoubtedly the master—he’d endured far more than this apprentice who only knew how to sneer.

He shook his head and kept walking toward the back room; the apprentice stood frozen, his face, moments ago flushed with rage, suddenly turning pale.

In truth, things were worse than imagined.

After nearly half a year as an apprentice, he hadn’t learned to make a single decent cake—and had plunged his already poor family deeper into debt, with a large portion of their monthly income sent to the bakery.

Last time his mother came here to give the fat boss a blow job, it was because she hoped to get his tuition fee waived.

But what kind of man was the fat boss? He wouldn’t agree.

So they struck a deal: she’d come at least four times a month—once a week—and in return, the apprentice wouldn’t have to pay tuition anymore.

From one angle, the fat boss had clearly won—after all, even the cheapest stripper at the port charged five dollars for this.

Four times a month meant twenty dollars—yet suddenly switching from hand jobs to blowjobs cost him ten dollars a month in lost income, which annoyed him.

After all, compared to ten dollars, he’d rather have cash than blowjobs or handjobs.

But if he refused, this free laborer might leave—so he ultimately compromised.

The apprentice learned all this after returning home and arguing with his mother.

His family could no longer afford to pour more money into a skill he’d never master.

The more desperate things became, the more he couldn’t leave—he couldn’t let his past six months of labor, all the money spent, and his mother’s sacrifices become sunk costs!

He had to learn something here, to prove these sacrifices had meaning, had value.

He couldn’t think like an adult, capable of letting go—even many adults couldn’t do that. All he could do was fulfill his original wish: learn to make delicious bread.

Only then could he face those unfair sacrifices with dignity…

Ignoring the apprentice’s daze, Lans knocked on the fat boss’s door. Soon, the man opened it wearing a torn T-shirt.

When he saw it was Lans, his expression twisted slightly, overdone: “Damn worm, you missed our busiest time tonight—I’m docking you three bucks.”

“You already owe me fifteen this month—starting today, I’m charging you interest…”

Lans didn’t give him time for more talk—he cut straight to the point: “I’m done.”

“You… what did you just say?”

“You’re done?”

“Hah!”

The fat boss burst out laughing: “Besides me, the generous one, who else would hire an illegal immigrant?”

“If you knew what’s happening outside, you’d know the whole city is boycotting you imperialist thieves and criminals!”

“No one else will give you a decent job!”

Lans could tell he was already nervous.

“I worked about a week this month, plus last month’s pay—you only owe me twenty bucks total.”

The fat boss raised his voice: “What are you joking about?”

He paused, then lowered his tone: “I know you’re angry, Lans, but this is your fault…”

“Here’s the deal: your debt stays the same. I’ll give you five bucks as last month’s wage—it’ll give you some face with your friends. Don’t make this hard on both of us, okay?”

Lans shook his head and turned to leave, saying as he walked: “You make me sick, Johnny.”

“Next time we meet, I hope you’re still in this state.”

Seeing him leave, the fat boss took two steps after him—he didn’t want to lose this free laborer.

Finding another worker who was hardworking, obedient, and free was nearly impossible!

He couldn’t not hire anyone—if he couldn’t find another free laborer, he’d have to spend at least twenty to thirty bucks more each month.

That twenty to thirty bucks was his before—now it’d go to someone else. The pain nearly stole his breath.

The apprentice was mopping the front hall—he heard their conversation and opened his mouth to say something, but the fat boss yelled at him: “You ain’t a lamppost—why are you standing in the middle blocking me?”

“Get out of the way—and if you don’t scrub the floor clean before bed, you’re out of my bakery tomorrow!”

He pushed past the apprentice and ran outside—but only saw Lans getting into a car and starting the engine.

Only then did he realize—he might really lose Lans.

He didn’t even know how to keep this free laborer; at least Lans had a car, while he could only ride a bicycle.

He stood on the sidewalk and shouted: “I’ll report you for stealing my money!”

Lans simply stared calmly through the window. Meeting Lans’s calm gaze, Johnny suddenly shivered—and dared not mention it again.

Watching the car grow smaller, the fat boss cursed Lans’s misfortune, while already dreading where he’d find another free laborer tomorrow.

He returned to the restaurant in foul spirits, glared at the dazed apprentice, and vented his rage with more cruel words.

He circled endlessly between mocking the apprentice’s intelligence and his mother’s body—only after ranting for a long while did he finally feel some relief, then sulk back to the back room.

Looks like he’d have to hire again tomorrow.

These damn, ungrateful vermin.

He didn’t notice the apprentice’s bloodshot eyes fixed on his back, fingernails digging into his palms without feeling the pain.

Lans found a cheap inn near the docks—one dollar a night, with limited free hot water.

The room reeked of stale decay—typical for wooden houses near the sea if poorly maintained.

The bed was soft; Lans wasn’t used to it. Worse, from late night onward, moans erupted from all directions—above, below, left, right.

Loud, unhidden, as if in competition.

Just when they’d stopped after a few minutes, they’d start again.

Clearly, even at midnight, some people were still struggling, heavily burdened, riding along life’s thorny path.