Chapter 460: A Fallen Phoenix is Worse Than a Chicken

They had to work the next day and got off late, so for convenience, the manager booked a large private room at a cheap restaurant not far from the wholesale market.

A dozen or so big men were crammed into the room.

The reek of sour sweat and cigarette smoke, mixed with the men’s vulgar chatter, was something Zeke Walton wasn’t used to.

But he had fallen to this kind of environment now. Even if he wasn’t used to it, he had to force himself to adapt. He gritted his teeth and stayed.

During the meal, Mr. King could sense his discomfort and tried his best to focus all his attention on him.

He poured his tea and wine and offered all sorts of nice, comforting words. To some, it was laughable; to others, it was hateful.

It was fucking absurd: a whole crew of drivers sucking up to the manager, only to watch the manager turn around and suck up to another driver. What kind of bullshit was that?

The drinks flowed, and over an hour passed.

With several pounds of baijiu down their throats, the men’s voices grew louder. The air in the private room became thick and hard to breathe in, and the sound of their boasting nearly blew the roof off.

Zeke Walton finally couldn’t take it anymore. He told Mr. King he wanted to go home, and Mr. King walked him to the door.

“President Walton, my apologies. The men in this line of work… well, their education and refinement are limited. They’re too crude. Please forgive the poor showing.”

Zeke Walton had told him many times not to call him President Walton, but Mr. King just wouldn’t stop.

“You don’t have to be so polite with me. It’s rare for everyone to get a chance to relax. I understand.”

“Good, good. As long as you understand. As long as you understand. Please don’t think I’ve been a poor host.”

His politeness sometimes made Zeke Walton lose himself, as if he were still the all-powerful Zeke Walton who could command the wind and rain.

Seeing Mr. King’s humble demeanor, Zeke Walton couldn’t hold back any longer and voiced the idea that had been brewing for several days.

“Mr. King, there’s actually something I’ve been wanting to discuss with you for the past few days.”

“What is it? Please tell me, President Walton. ‘Discuss’ is too formal. If you have any ideas, just give the order. As long as it’s something I can do, I’ll do it without hesitation.”

So, Zeke Walton got straight to the point.

He wanted to add four more drivers and have more markets assigned to him. In return, he would give Mr. King half the profits.

Driving the routes himself was too exhausting. Zeke Walton wanted to try slowly building his own small fleet of vehicles, letting other drivers do the work so he could free himself up for other things. This way, it would be less work while still guaranteeing an income.

Sure enough, as soon as Mr. King heard this, his expression changed.

Although it was only a subtle change for a second or two, Zeke Walton still noticed it.

“I know it’s a bit much to ask for this when I’ve only just joined. It’s unfair to you. Like I said, it’s just an idea I’m discussing with you. The profits and all that are negotiable. If you think it’s not open for discussion, that’s fine too…”

Mr. King thought the idea was indeed outrageous, that Zeke Walton was really pushing his luck—trying to snatch the food right out of his mouth.

But who could argue? This was Young Mr. Walton, after all.

He wasn’t after this paltry, short-term gain. He was betting on the day Young Mr. Walton returned to the palace and became the Emperor.

“No, no, no, how could it be unfair? I think your proposal is excellent! Just as expected of President Walton—full of ideas. Look at the men under me. They’ve been with me for so long, and while they complain about working themselves to death every day, not a single one of them could have come up with an idea like yours. For me, as long as there’s money to be made and the fleet can operate smoothly, a little more or a little less isn’t particularly important. Especially when President Walton is willing to partner with me.”

“How about this, I’ll give you five more vehicles, okay? When I get back, I’ll take a close look at which markets have the best locations and the highest sales, and I’ll give those to you. We’ll have a win-win partnership, mutually beneficial. Of course, I won’t charge you for the vehicles. Just take them and use them for now. Whenever you have more cash on hand, or whenever… it’s all fine by me. Really, it’s fine.”

These words sent a wave of warmth through Zeke Walton’s heart, and he felt an immense sense of gratitude toward this short, chubby old man.

He was truly a man of loyalty and integrity, not one to look down on people.

In this day and age, a fallen phoenix is worth less than a chicken. For him to be willing to help was truly rare and precious.

“Mr. King, thank you so, so much.”

As the two were busy planning the future, a tall, burly drunkard suddenly rushed over and barged between them.

“What? You’re going to let him split off another team? And you’re giving him the most profitable markets? Hey, King! You’re a fucking bootlicker, but this is taking it too far!”

Zeke Walton took a look. Wasn’t this the same guy from the fleet who always seemed to have a problem with him, constantly making sarcastic remarks, both openly and behind his back?

He had drunk a lot tonight. Right now, his face was beet red, he reeked of alcohol, and he was stumbling unsteadily.

Mr. King hadn’t expected their conversation to be overheard. Seeing this driver yelling and screaming at him, he gave him a shove out of annoyance.

“What are you yelling about? Huh? You have a couple of drinks and forget who you are? How I plan my work is none of your business! Go on, get back inside and drink your booze!”

“I’m not going! You ask what it has to do with me? I’m part of this fucking fleet too! I’m one of the guys who scrapes by under you! I get up earlier than a rooster, go to bed later than a dog, and work harder than anyone! Why does he get to just show up and…”

“You promised to make me team leader after I’d been with the fleet for six months! But this kid shows up for just a few days, and you promise him all the good stuff? I won’t stand for it!”

“You sell us your crappy second-hand vehicles at inflated prices, squeezing every last penny out of us, but you give them to him for free? And you save the markets with the best locations and highest sales for him? Isn’t that taking things too far?!”

There were three men in total who had come out with him to use the restroom.

At first, the other two hadn’t clearly heard what Mr. King and Zeke Walton were saying, but after all his shouting, now they knew everything.

It wasn’t just him who was angry; the other two rushed over, looking just as displeased.

“Exactly! We work our asses off for you, and what do we get besides barely making a living? You give all the perks to this guy, so what about us? Are our lives just going to get harder? We won’t stand for it!”

These men were all long-time manual laborers—big, brawny guys with the builds of tigers and bears. Mr. King was wedged in the middle of them, completely swallowed by their bulk.

Zeke Walton had no choice but to step forward and try to pull them apart.

“Everyone, let’s talk this out calmly! Don’t be impulsive! If you have a problem, take it up with me!”

That was a mistake. The moment he tried to intervene, the men, fueled by alcohol, turned all their anger on him.

“You motherfucker, couldn’t you find any other job? Did you have to come here and fight us for scraps? Aren’t you a cheap bastard? Isn’t your old man supposed to be loaded? Fuck off and go back home to inherit your family fortune! What are you doing meddling in our business for no reason?”

“Yeah! It’s all bullshit, isn’t it? I don’t believe for a second that someone from a rich family would ever want a job like this! Fucking hell, I’ve met braggarts before, but I’ve never seen anyone who can bullshit as much as you!”

“Pretty boy with a rotten heart!”

Taunting him was one thing, but as he spoke, the man actually slapped him on the face a few times.