Chapter 45

It was 8 a.m. in Sand Village.

The young guys, still groggy, bought the cheapest breakfast, slung their bags over their shoulders, and hurried towards the bus stop.

People saw this place differently. Some observed the hustle and bustle, some added it to their culinary map, while others deemed it dirty and chaotic, refusing to set foot there.

After hearing Lally and Duke's stories, seeing Tony's family's situation, and learning that Alan used to live here, I felt a weird connection to this place.

Sand Village, or the inner-city village, was like the backdrop of the city's history and memory, and also the battleground for young outsiders' destinies.

I read somewhere that every young person with city dreams who came to Silverlight City spent a year or two in the inner-city village.

It was dirty, chaotic, and fraught with safety hazards, especially for girls, but the rent was cheap enough to be worth it.

This was the cradle of dreams, the starting point of everything, and then, nothing more. Most people quietly left under the city's bright lights, unnoticed.

Silverlight City was the capital of West Sand State, serving as the economic hub of the entire northwest region, but its rapid growth had only occurred in the past twenty years.

In the past twenty years, with the advantages of the era and its strategic location, countless business miracles and successful individuals emerged here. They all spoke of their struggles, shared their secrets to success, and inspired young people to strive diligently.

Success was rare, and few could remain. Silverlight City's achievements today were the result of the silent hard work of those young people who lived in the inner-city village, unable to afford heating in winter and hesitant to turn on the air conditioning in summer.

This "anti-elite" thinking seemed out of place nowadays. I chuckled to myself, bought a sandwich and milk at the breakfast shop.

Taking a bite of the sandwich and a sip of milk, I ate while watching the entrance of Tony's alley, waiting for someone to come out.

"Miss, you don't look like someone who lives here. Watching you keep looking towards the alley, you look more like a cop." The shop owner joked while making breakfast.

I was taken aback. The breakfast shop owner, with graying hair, looked about sixty years old and seemed very talkative. Curiously, I asked, "Sir, you're joking. What cop? I'm just waiting for someone. How did you tell I'm not from here?"

"That question just proves it even more." The breakfast shop owner laughed and pointed to the people around, "I've been selling breakfast here for almost twenty years. No one who buys breakfast stays here for more than a minute, and you're the first."

"Well, you have a good eye. If you weren't selling breakfast, you could be a detective, solving big cases." I joked.

Without being thoroughly familiar with the environment and the people here, one would not observe such details. Those who lived in this area were always thinking about how to move out from the very first day. Naturally, they were busy rushing to work and making money, leaving them no leisure time to stand around here.

"If I were a cop, I'd spend my days making sandwiches for them. How could I possibly solve big cases?" The breakfast shop owner laughed heartily, seemingly pleased with his observation, looked me up and down, and said mysteriously, "I think you're special!"

"How so?" I raised an eyebrow and smiled.

"You drove here, right?" The breakfast shop owner pointed to the Audi parked not far away, smiling, "That car isn't something people here can afford."

"And you've been scoping out the place since you got your breakfast. Let me guess, just like in those novels, right? Private detective! High income! Am I close?" The breakfast shop owner lowered his voice, grinning.

I noticed his phone playing an audiobook, something about suspense and mystery. I shook my head and smiled, "You're not too far off. Detectives dig up info, and we journalists dig into the meaning behind it."

"A journalist? Here, have an egg on the house!"

The breakfast shop owner, being super friendly, started to put an egg in a plastic bag. I thanked him and politely declined.

"No, thank you. I'm here to do a piece on the inner-city village, looking for some inspiration."

I made up a reason. Since he knew this place well, he should know about the events in Sand Village over the years, including Tony's family and the orphanage. According to Lally's recollection, the orphanage should be nearby.

"Haha, ask away, just no filming. I'm kind of a big deal in Sand Village, gotta keep up appearances." The breakfast shop owner said, touching his graying hair. At his age, such humor was rare. I chuckled and assured him I was alone, no camera in sight.

"You said you've been selling breakfast here for 20 years. Are you from Sand Village?"

"Yep, this storefront is ours. When the steel mill closed and relocated, they owed us three years' wages, so they gave us this storefront instead. We thought it was a loss at the time, but had no choice. Later, we started selling breakfast ourselves, and business was okay." The breakfast shop owner said earnestly.

Silverlight City had been expanding non-stop. This place was originally called Sand Town, with a nearby steel mill. When the mill closed and relocated, most employees didn't follow and stayed in Sand Village.

"Didn't you think about moving with the mill? I heard the steel mill did well after relocating."

I checked the time, around 8:20 a.m., still early. I chatted with the breakfast shop owner while keeping an eye on the alley entrance, gathering more info.

"You can't just go where the money is, right?" The breakfast shop owner's voice rose when talking about the mill's relocation, with a hint of pride, "Nowadays, people chase money, going wherever it is. Back then, we workers had to learn from role models, learn to be advanced! Like our foreman, who was advanced every year, always putting the workers' benefits first. When the mill relocated, the director personally asked the foreman to go, offering housing and shares. Think about it, how much money that was. Our foreman said no, he wanted to stay and achieve something with his team. With the foreman saying that, how could we say no? So we all stayed!"

Seeing the breakfast shop owner suddenly passionate, I nodded. That era was indeed full of enthusiasm. My dad used to work overtime at the construction institute, always full of energy, feeling hopeful every day. I later asked him if it was family pressure or something else. He said family was part of it, but more importantly, there was a drive inside, a sense of hope every day. That was the unique romance of that era.

"From what you said, that foreman indeed had great charisma." I agreed.

"Of course! Even though Mr. Thompson has been dead for years, if you ask the old folks in Sand Village about him, no one would hesitate to praise him. If they do, I'll give you my shop!" The breakfast shop owner said proudly, patting his chest.

"Are there many Thompsons in this village?" I asked.

"Just one family, George Thompson's, in the alley you were looking at." The breakfast shop owner replied.