Chapter 40: The Spark

The muffled breathing from the half-closed door made the apprentice’s nails dig into his palm, blood seeping slowly from the split wound.

The dark crack of the door seemed to hold everything he despised!

He hated it, wanted to rush in and smash his fist into that fat face—but cowardly, he dared only vent his hatred here, inside his mind.

Sometimes he didn’t understand what was wrong with this world—why did every misfortune seem to fall on him?

His parents had divorced; the man he once saw as his life’s goal and role model had left Jincheng City with a woman seven or eight years younger than him.

He was awarded to his mother, because he was still a minor, and his father had clearly stated he did not wish to be his guardian.

After a brief consultation with a lawyer, he moved in with his mother.

In recent years, more and more illegal immigrants had arrived here; jobs were hard to find, wages low, and everyone talked about Jincheng City’s growth, its thriving economy—but as a native, he felt only crushing pressure.

More than half a year ago, his mother suddenly told him to learn a trade; by then he had graduated high school, and after some “investigation,” he learned the most profitable business nearby was Johnny’s bakery.

Earning one or two hundred yuan a month was, for a child from a single-parent household, like a astronomical sum.

He was sent here, and in six months he’d spent most of his mother’s meager income—yet learned nothing.

He didn’t know how to knead dough, shape loaves, make bread taste good, pair ingredients, or even the techniques for premium breads—not one bit!

He worked long hours for free, yet still had to pay Johnny ten yuan each month.

He hated everything here, hated the shop, hated Johnny, even hated himself.

Now, one more person had been added: his mother.

To save that little money, she was currently in the room helping Johnny relax—he knew what was happening, but could do nothing.

Minutes later, she stepped out, adjusting her disheveled shirt.

Seeing her son’s terrifying gaze, her expression shifted slightly.

Without speaking, she gave a slight nod and turned to leave—but the apprentice followed.

“Why?” he asked.

In the alley behind the bakery, the woman stopped and turned to face him. “Because Johnny’s skills are the best. If you learn his bread-making, you’ll have at least one way to survive—it was your own choice.”

The apprentice didn’t understand. “Why?” he asked again.

“Why are you… doing those things?”

The woman remained calm. “Because we have no money left.”

The apprentice fell silent. The woman didn’t stop speaking because of his silence; she knew the boy hated her. “You have no real options now—either leave, find a job, and support yourself.”

“He promised me he’ll let you stay here for at least three more months.”

The apprentice wanted to say something but didn’t know how—he’d used up the family’s scarce money, and she’d sacrificed for his chance to learn.

To leave now wasn’t simply a matter of staying or going; it seemed like two choices, but in truth, there were almost none left.

He didn’t know what sunk cost meant—but he knew if he left now, everything he’d invested would be wasted.

Watching his son fall silent again, recalling the suppressed fury in his eyes just now, the woman’s expression shifted slightly.

“You’re grown now. There’s something I haven’t told you—I’m leaving too.”

The apprentice suddenly looked up at her. “You… when do we leave?”

She shook her head. “Not we—I. I met a man while working, a foreign tourist. He wants me to go with him. I agreed.”

“So… your time is running out.”

The woman finished speaking and left. This was likely the best choice she saw—she’d given her child enough.

Time, youth, money—even dignity. Now she should live for herself.

The apprentice said nothing until her back vanished into the alley; he was numb, stunned.

First his father, now her.

After a day of numb labor, he mopped the floor twice, then collapsed onto his bed, thinking—how could he change this? How… could he learn Johnny’s bread-making?

He’d thought someday he’d learn—but now he saw how naive he’d been.

Half-asleep, he wondered—if Johnny couldn’t make bread himself, could he replace him? Could he learn the recipes and techniques?

He fell asleep with that thought—and in his dream, Johnny was injured, disabled, unable to bake, forced to let him do it instead.

He mastered all of Johnny’s recipes and techniques, opened his own bakery, sold cheaper, better bread, soon Johnny and his damned daughter lost income, ended up on the streets…

The next morning, the apprentice woke to the plain ceiling and realized it had all been a dream.

Today was Thursday—business was picking up; Johnny would bake personally today.

After finishing morning chores, he stood in the back kitchen waiting for Johnny. Johnny soon entered and began preparing ingredients.

But as soon as he started, he turned sharply to the apprentice. “What are you still doing here?”

In his dream, in his thoughts, he’d punched Johnny hard—but in reality, he cowered. “I… I think I might help you finish.”

Johnny snorted. “Trying to steal my techniques?”

“Get out, brat. Don’t think because your mother sucked me off I’ll teach you anything.”

“I wouldn’t sell my skills for five hundred yuan. Your mother’s worth five at most!”

“Now, before I lose my temper, get out of this room—and shut the door!”

The apprentice clenched his fists—but Johnny wasn’t afraid. He knew the apprentice and the woman’s situation. He had them cornered.

“You wanna hit me?” He walked over and slapped the apprentice’s head with his flour-coated hand. “Either pack your shit and leave, or go outside and stoke the furnace!”

In the end, the apprentice relented. He unclenched his fists. “Yes, Boss.” He was also required to call Johnny “Boss.” Then he left the room—but his hatred kept rising.

From now until afternoon was Johnny’s “work time.” He’d mix all the recipes and bake the finer breads and cakes; the rest would be left to the apprentice in the afternoon.

So the apprentice had two or three hours. While stoking the furnace, he remembered last night’s half-dream.

Ten minutes later, he changed clothes and left the bakery.

As a local, the apprentice had some friends; though work was busy, he sometimes chatted with them.

He knew everything happening in Jincheng City lately—the locals’ hatred of immigrants, the violent crimes escalating into robbery and vandalism.

A few days ago, a friend told him they’d smashed an immigrant’s shop and stolen plenty of good stuff.

He’d only laughed it off before—he could never do such a thing, wouldn’t dare. But now he saw it as an opportunity.

In the afternoon, the back kitchen door finally opened. Dozens of freshly shaped dough loaves sat on racks, proofing.

Sweating, Johnny emerged shirtless, his thick body hair making him look like a bear!

“Get in there and watch the proofing racks. When they’re ready, shove them into the oven. If they’re overproofed or underbaked, you know the consequences!”

He grinned lewdly. “Your mom may be plain-looking, but she sure knows how to please.”

He was surprised—before, saying this always made the apprentice seethe with suppressed rage. He loved watching the boy’s helpless fury—it gave him a sense of… controlling someone’s fate.

Though he was a nobody, he still craved that feeling.

Today, the apprentice showed none of that hated, bowed-down expression. He just stared at Johnny twice, then turned and walked into the back kitchen.

Johnny found it boring and went back to rest.

He’d worked hard all afternoon—he needed a good nap.

Business was good. Though the city was still a bit chaotic, it was slowly stabilizing.

Some people now stayed in the bakery to eat bread, drink coffee, chat—his business naturally wasn’t bad.

At night, Johnny sat at the table eating fried chicken, counting cash in the register with greasy fingers.

The apprentice was mopping. When he reached the door, he quietly unlatched the bolt.

In the shadows, his eyes gleamed with hatred and dark satisfaction…