The air in Guangzhou was a heady mix of humidity and the pungent odor of construction. Qiang found himself beneath the rickety tin awning of the labor market, his palm damp around a stack of freshly - printed business cards. The cards, emblazoned with "Ruan's Construction Crew" in a somewhat haphazard Song typeface, were already showing signs of wear, their edges frayed and the ink smudging onto his thumb.
"Vietnamese?" The seventeenth contractor he'd approached that day squinted suspiciously, his eyes lingering on Qiang's features as if trying to find some hidden flaw. He pinched the business card between two fingers, holding it at arm's length as if it were a noxious thing. Qiang opened his mouth to pitch his team's three - year experience in Foshan, but the man was already turning away, his words slicing through the air, "We're looking for local teams. Ones we know and can rely on."
The wind whistled through the gaps in the awning, carrying with it a fine dust that stung Qiang's eyes. He fished out a crumpled cigarette pack from his pocket. There were only two cigarettes left, a meager consolation in the face of yet another rejection. The lighter clicked repeatedly, five times in total, before a weak flame finally sputtered to life, dancing wildly in the gusty wind like a dying insect fighting for its last breath.
His mind drifted back to the day he'd attempted to register his construction crew. The clerk at the industrial and commercial bureau had stared at his passport with a cold, calculating look. "Vietnamese? The registration process will take an additional three months," the clerk had informed him, tapping the desk rhythmically with a fingernail.
"Why?" Qiang had asked, a note of desperation creeping into his voice.
"Regulations. We can't risk foreigners disappearing after getting the work," the clerk had replied without looking up, the scratching of the pen on the paperwork the only sound in the otherwise quiet office.
The cigarette burned down to the filter, searing Qiang's fingers. With a curse, he crushed it under his shoe, watching as the ashes scattered in the wind. Behind him, the internet café in the corner of the market hummed with activity. For five yuan an hour, people huddled around computers, their faces illuminated by the sickly blue glow of the screens. A young man in a tattered jacket was typing away furiously, his QQ avatars bouncing around the taskbar like agitated fleas as he chatted with friends.
"Still no luck, Qiang - ge?" Old Chen, his loyal companion and fellow countryman, sidled up to him. Old Chen's hard hat was covered in a fine layer of white plaster dust, and the scar on his hand, a souvenir from a rebar accident on a previous job site, twitched slightly as he spoke. The scar, long and jagged, resembled an earthworm that had been caught in a struggle and never fully recovered.
Qiang shook his head, a defeated sigh escaping his lips. He rummaged through his pocket and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper. "Boss Li said there's an old building renovation in Tangxia. He wants us to check it out," he said, his voice lacking its usual enthusiasm.
"Boss Li? The one who's always short - changing the workers?" Old Chen's eyebrows shot up in disbelief.
Qiang shrugged. "Better than sitting around with our thumbs up our asses. At least it's a chance to keep the crew busy."
As they mounted the motorcycle and roared through the narrow alleys of Guangzhou, Qiang was assaulted by a medley of smells. The savory aroma of stir - fried rice noodles wafted from a nearby street stall, mingling with the acrid scent of exhaust fumes. New advertisements had been plastered all over the walls, their bright colors and bold claims standing out against the drab backdrop of the city. "Invest in Riverside Garden. Your dream home awaits with a mere 30,000 - yuan down payment," one read. Right next to it, a faded rental notice declared, "Single room for rent, 800 yuan. Vietnamese need not apply."
Old Chen spat on the ground in disgust. "These people, they think we're some kind of plague. It's not fair."
Qiang didn't respond. His eyes were fixed on the rear - view mirror, where the blue light of the internet café was slowly receding, becoming just another dot in the sea of urban chaos.
When they reached Boss Li's construction site, located behind a bustling wet market, Qiang was greeted by the sight of a dilapidated three - story building. The walls were peeling, and chunks of plaster had fallen off, leaving behind a pockmarked surface that resembled the skin of a diseased animal. Boss Li, a portly man with a cigarette perpetually dangling from his lips, kicked at the wall with a scuffed boot.
"Tear down this wall and build a balcony. I'll give you five thousand yuan. Take it or leave it," he said, his eyes narrowing as he sized up Qiang.
Qiang's eyes quickly scanned the area. "That's not enough. Just the materials will cost at least three thousand," he countered, his voice firm.
Boss Li shrugged nonchalantly. "The Hunanese team next door said they'd do it for 4,500. So, what's it gonna be?"
Qiang stared at the crack in the wall, where a crumpled newspaper had wedged itself. The date on the newspaper was from 2002, a reminder of how time had passed and yet, his struggles seemed to remain the same. He thought back to the night he'd crossed the border into China, hiding in the cornfields of Guangxi, clutching the silver bracelet his mother had given him for luck. "Guangzhou will be the place where our fortunes turn," he'd told himself then.
"Fine, I'll take it," Qiang said through gritted teeth. He knew it was a tough bargain, but he couldn't afford to let his crew sit idle.
By the time they finished work, the sun had long since set, and the city was bathed in a soft, orange glow. Old Chen counted the cash Boss Li had given them under the dim light of a streetlamp, carefully examining each bill to make sure there were no counterfeits. "Thank god, no fakes," he muttered, relief evident in his voice.
Qiang squatted on the curb, watching as the night - market stalls came to life. The smell of food filled the air, and the sounds of laughter and chatter from the patrons created a symphony of urban nightlife. A young student in a school uniform stood nearby, holding a mobile phone to his ear. "Mom, I bought you a scarf online. It'll be delivered in a few days," he said, a wide smile on his face.
"Qiang - ge, what are you thinking?" Old Chen asked, noticing the far - away look in Qiang's eyes.
"Nothing," Qiang replied, pulling out his battered Nokia phone. The screen was cracked, but it still worked. He scrolled through his contacts and found "Sister Wang," a woman he'd met on a previous construction site. She ran a small supermarket and had promised to help him find jobs if she could.
The phone rang several times before it was finally picked up. The sound of mahjong tiles clattering in the background filled Qiang's ear. "Sister Wang, it's Qiang," he said.
"Oh, Qiang. What's up?" Sister Wang's voice was slightly distracted.
"I was wondering if you had any leads on jobs. I'm really in need of some work for my crew," Qiang said, trying to sound as hopeful as possible.
"Well, I do have a regular customer who wants to build a flower - stand on their balcony. Can you come over and take a look tomorrow?" Sister Wang asked.
Qiang's eyes lit up. "Sure, that would be great. Send me the address on my phone," he said, feeling a glimmer of hope.
After hanging up, Old Chen handed Qiang a box of stir - fried rice noodles. The plastic box was warm in his hands, and the smell made his stomach growl. As he ate, Qiang caught a glimpse of his reflection in the oily surface of the noodles. He looked haggard, with dark circles under his eyes and a stubble on his chin. The lines on his face seemed to have deepened in the past few months, a testament to the hardships he'd endured.
"Qiang - ge," Old Chen said suddenly, "When we passed by the internet café earlier, I saw that people were looking for renovation teams online. Maybe we should give it a try."
Qiang looked up, his eyes meeting Old Chen's. "Online? How does that work?"
Old Chen scratched his head. "I'm not sure. But they said you just fill out a form, write about what your team can do, and post it. Then, people can contact you if they're interested."
Qiang thought for a moment. It was a new idea, something he'd never considered before. The internet was still a relatively new phenomenon in Guangzhou, and he wasn't very familiar with it. But then again, he was running out of options. "Okay, we'll check it out tomorrow," he said, a new determination in his voice.
That night, after they'd returned to their makeshift accommodation, Qiang couldn't sleep. He lay on his thin mattress, staring at the ceiling. The sound of traffic outside was a constant hum, and the dim light from a streetlamp filtered through the cracks in the window. He thought about the future of his construction crew. The rejections, the low - paying jobs, and the discrimination he'd faced were all weighing heavily on him. But the mention of the internet as a potential avenue for work gave him a glimmer of hope.
The next morning, Qiang and Old Chen made their way back to the internet café. The place was already bustling with activity, mostly young people chatting, playing games, or browsing the web. Qiang approached the front desk, where a bored - looking teenager sat. "Five yuan for an hour," the teenager said without looking up.
Qiang paid the money and sat down at an empty computer. The screen flickered to life, and he was greeted by a sea of icons and websites. Old Chen stood behind him, looking over his shoulder. "So, where do we start?" Qiang asked, his fingers hovering over the keyboard.
Old Chen pointed at a link that said "Post a Service." Qiang clicked on it, and a form appeared on the screen. It asked for details about the service they were offering, their experience, and contact information. Qiang took a deep breath and started typing.
"Ruan's Construction Crew. We specialize in all kinds of construction and renovation work. Although we're Vietnamese, we've been in Guangzhou for a while and are familiar with local building codes and styles. We're hard - working, reliable, and committed to delivering high - quality results."
As he typed, Qiang couldn't help but feel a sense of nervousness. He wasn't sure if this would work, if anyone would actually read the post and be interested in their services. But he had to try. After he finished typing, he hit the "Submit" button.
The screen flashed, and a message appeared, saying that his post had been successfully submitted. Qiang sat back in his chair, feeling a sense of accomplishment. Old Chen patted him on the back. "Well, that's done. Now, we just have to wait and see," he said.
As they left the internet café, Qiang felt a new sense of optimism. The sun was shining brightly, and the streets were filled with people going about their daily lives. A group of children were playing in the street, their laughter filling the air. Qiang thought about his mother back in Vietnam, and how he hoped that one day, he could make a better life for himself and his crew.
Maybe, just maybe, this was the start of something new. Maybe the internet would be the key to opening up new opportunities for his construction crew. As he walked down the street, Qiang looked around him, taking in the sights and sounds of Guangzhou. He knew that the road ahead would still be difficult, but he was ready to face whatever challenges came his way.
The days passed, and Qiang and his crew continued to work on the small jobs they managed to find. The old building renovation for Boss Li was completed, and although the pay was meager, it was enough to keep them going for a while. Qiang kept checking his phone for messages related to the online post, but there was nothing.
One day, as Qiang was sitting in a small diner, sipping on a cup of tea, his phone rang. The number was unfamiliar. He picked up the phone, his heart pounding. "Hello?"
"Is this Qiang from Ruan's Construction Crew? I saw your post online. I have a small project for you. It's a bathroom renovation in my apartment. Are you interested?" a woman's voice said on the other end.
Qiang's eyes widened in excitement. "Yes, ma'am. I'm definitely interested. When can I come and take a look?" he asked, trying to contain his enthusiasm.
The woman gave him the address and said he could come over that afternoon. Qiang hung up the phone and let out a whoop of joy. Old Chen, who was sitting across from him, looked at him in surprise. "What happened?"
"We got a job from the online post!" Qiang exclaimed. Old Chen's face broke into a wide smile. "That's great news, Qiang - ge. I knew it would work."
That afternoon, Qiang made his way to the woman's apartment. It was a small but cozy place in a residential building. The woman, Mrs. Zhang, showed him the bathroom that needed renovation. "I want to modernize it. New tiles, a new bathtub, and a better ventilation system," she said.
Qiang took notes and gave her an estimate. Mrs. Zhang seemed satisfied with the price and the plan. "Okay, you can start next week. I hope you do a good job," she said.
Qiang left the apartment feeling on top of the world. This was the first real opportunity that had come their way through the internet. As he walked back to the crew's base, he thought about how things were starting to look up. The shadow of identity that had been hanging over them might finally be starting to lift.
Back at the base, Qiang told the crew the good news. Everyone was excited, and they started planning for the upcoming project. Qiang knew that this was just the beginning. There would still be challenges, and the discrimination might not disappear completely. But he was determined to prove that his Vietnamese - led construction crew was just as good, if not better, than any local team.
As the sun set over Guangzhou, casting a warm glow over the city, Qiang stood on the rooftop of their base, looking out at the skyline. The city, with its towering buildings and busy streets, held so many possibilities. And he was ready to grab every opportunity that came his way, no matter how difficult the journey might be.