Chapter 56

No matter what, this super luxurious pearl must be returned!

Bak brought his father along, hoping someone could help watch the car. If his dad could drive, it would be even simpler.

The two of them could drive the truck and the Passat back together. Now, Bak was completely uninterested in finding the high-end dual-screen flip phone that Mu Chenfei had used, and he dialed the number.

The logic was simple: Bak didn't mind driving the Passat himself because it wasn't eye-catching, but this supercar, which was probably one of a few in the country, was completely useless to him. He didn't know how the kidnappers planned to sell it, but for Bak, it was just a burden, taking up space in the truck. He originally planned to drive the truck back and notify the Mu family to come and pick it up, but now he didn't even want the truck.

The call connected, and sure enough, it was Mu Tianbo's deep voice: "Um, hello..." As a businessman, he didn't act arrogantly when receiving an unknown call. Bak had switched to a new SIM card he had just bought.

Bak informed the other party to come and pick up the car: "I am... the one who, um, saved your daughter..." Since he had changed his plan on the spot and was disappointed, he didn't think much about it, and his tone wasn't very good.

Unexpectedly, Mu Tianbo hung up abruptly: "You don't have the qualifications to make this call!"

Bak was stunned for a moment, holding the phone and blinking in confusion. Rich people... He had served many wealthy people from all over, but none of them were this rude.

Well, Bak wasn't that innocent. He put away his phone with a sinister smile and moved the Passat to a distant parking spot: "Mom and Dad, just wait here in the car. I'll move that car to another spot and come back to drive you."

At this moment, Bak's father really felt that if he could drive, he could help his son. He sat in the passenger seat, feeling regretful and anxious.

Bak moved quickly, started the truck, and didn't even bother to check the items on the temporary foldable bed behind the driver's seat. He drove the truck out, paid 30 yuan for parking, and left the huge logistics center. A few kilometers away, he found a more standard indoor parking lot, parked the truck, and paid 1,500 yuan for three months of parking.

Trucks were much more expensive.

Then he took a taxi back to drive the Passat: "Hmph, if you don't want it... I won't give it back!" He originally planned to return the designer handbag and documents together, or even send them by courier, but now he was too lazy to do so.

Since you have money, connections, and qualifications, go through the procedures again. He didn't care about the supercar anyway. He would hide it, partly out of a natural prankster's mindset.

But Bak had his limits. He didn't give the brand new RK handbag to his mother to show off, as others would think it was fake. He put it in a plastic bag and stored it under the sofa bed.

The family originally planned to drive to a Western restaurant in the city for a meal, but at the entrance of the high-end restaurant, Bak's father and mother backed out, feeling they couldn't adapt to the atmosphere. In the end, they went to a hotpot restaurant, where the food was more down-to-earth and easier to accept.

They returned home satisfied and, on the way, enrolled the two men in a driving school. Bak planned to give his father private lessons and then take the exam himself.

In the middle of the night, Bak's father felt his son get up and open the door to go out, and he asked softly: "What's wrong?"

Bak answered simply: "I have some loose ends to tie up... Don't worry, I'll go to work as soon as it's light."

Indeed, he went to work, driving the 300,000 yuan Passat to a car wash that paid him 2,000 yuan a month!

Strange, right?

Bak didn't find it strange at all, and neither did his family.

For him, this was his job until he found the next one, regardless of how much money he had or what car he drove. More importantly, he still had a motorcycle at the car wash!

A person's goals and actions shouldn't be influenced by external possessions or others' opinions. This was Bak's personal philosophy.

Besides, a few million wasn't a big deal to him.

In the morning, Bak really did drive his mother and two sisters to school. When the younger sisters got out of the car, they playfully asked for a kiss on the window, and Bak, well-versed in European etiquette, smiled and accepted it.

With a continued smile, Bak drove the car to the car wash, saying it was a friend's car he was borrowing. No one found it strange, but at noon, several coworkers asked to borrow the car for a spin, and Bak was generous, letting them drive.

The boss came to ask about the incident: "You drove a luxury car and still chatted with the girl? You were absent for two days, and yesterday she came to the shop asking for a long time!"

Bak looked innocent: "What's the point? Rich people have many troubles. I was stabbed in the leg by someone chasing a debt for them, see!" He lifted his loose shorts to show the scar. His work uniform was stained with blood, so he said it was lost, and the boss gave him a new one without complaint.

The boss also noticed the many scars on his thighs and the thick leg hair on his calves, which made the scars less noticeable: "Hey, you're not a peaceful guy, huh? You've caused a lot of trouble!"

Bak downplayed it: "I was young and foolish, that's all. Let's go eat!"

The boss warned: "No matter what you tell me, I've heard of Mr. Mu. Don't overestimate yourself and try to get what you can't have!"

Bak bowed: "Do you think she would like me? I don't even like myself!"

The boss laughed: "Did you see the phone she threw? A custom-made Vertu! It didn't even break when it fell. The rose gold version costs 160,000 yuan! Hiding a phone like that could get you in trouble! Rich people... tsk tsk!"

Bak thought about the phone that fell into the sewage. Would the girl use it? She probably wouldn't want the blood-stained supercar either. He smiled but didn't inquire about her wealth, as it was a different world from his, a lesson he learned as a bodyguard.

He still ate a bowl of spicy beef noodles on the street, shared cigarettes with his coworkers, and sat on the curb outside the car wash, playing with a cigarette on his fingers.

Actually, it was only after Bak joined that the coworkers started to prefer this side. Before, they liked the other end, where there was a hair salon with many stylish hairdressers and customers, a good place to watch.

But after two of them chatted with Bak on this side, they realized there was also a lot to see here.

Next to the car wash was a real estate agency.

The storefronts in this area weren't very expensive and were quite wide. The car wash was several dozen meters long, and the real estate agency and hair salon were also spacious. Inside the real estate agency, there were many saleswomen in OL business attire, which was a step up from the hair salon girls.

The other coworkers admired Bak: "Bro Bak! Not bad, you have such high standards, daring to peek at white-collar workers..."

"Really nice... that one, a bit darker, with a high chest and a slim waist, the best-looking..."

"Even if they're that beautiful, can they compare to the girl you drove back in the supercar?"

"Oh, if you compare every beautiful woman to that young lady, there's no point in looking at any other women!"

Bak listened to their chatter and occasionally chimed in: "To be clear, I drove her supercar to take her back. I'm just the driver, don't make it sound like I have a supercar to take beautiful women around, or people will think I'm showing off!"

The others still admired him: "Not bad! The smell in the car... just thinking about it gets me excited, why hasn't she come back to wash her car..."

"Bro Bak, this Passat is special. It's a top-of-the-line old model. What friend's car is it?"

Bak casually brushed them off and got up to walk around. Only then did they notice that he barely looked at the long legs and short skirts in the glass partition. His attention was entirely on the various real estate advertisements neatly arranged in front of the agency: "What? Bro Bak, are you thinking of buying a house? These aren't cheap... the rental ads are on the wall over there."

Class, like a clear boundary, was deeply ingrained in most people's minds. Working as a car washer for a thousand yuan a month, you shouldn't dream of buying a house in a big city; it was better to rent.

Saving the young lady's life and getting a million yuan in reward was enough; you didn't have the right to complain or criticize.

This society was that realistic.

Bak, who had only a few categories in his mind—dead, alive, and dying—felt the clear barriers of society.

In Eastern Europe, the situation seemed less clear-cut. There was a wealth gap, but the social and economic development wasn't as rapid, so everything was more relaxed. Bak felt he still needed to adapt.

But he wasn't really looking at the real estate agents or the rental ads. He was purely interested in the beautiful pictures of villas, mansions, and high-rise apartments.

He liked looking at these, which was one of his few hobbies during his seven years in Europe, besides combat, killing, and saving lives.

A warm but poor family;

A society in Eastern Europe that, though not very wealthy, valued atmosphere and quality of life;

A private house he had been planning to build in the suburbs of Kharkiv;

Countless cold, boring nights spent drawing crooked interior design sketches on a military PDA, which were later ruthlessly revised with red lines;

All of these accompanied his dream of a beautiful family.

He hoped that when he was old and couldn't fight anymore, he could live in a peaceful courtyard with his wife and children, and bring his parents to live there.

This was almost the central theme of Bak's favorite daydream, a simple and unremarkable dream.

He had been back in his hometown for two or three months but hadn't even visited the new house his mother had bought, due to a strange psychological resistance. He didn't want to see a new house, and he didn't want to be reminded of the dreams and family that had disappeared with the fireball.

Now it seemed to be improving... the battlefield medic gave himself a positive psychological evaluation.