Carrying a Jurassic on me
Chapter 558 - 235: Gangster Inn, Understand Framing (5,000 words, please subscribe)_1

Chapter 558: Chapter 235: Gangster Inn, Understand Framing (5,000 words, please subscribe)_1

Just as Old Yang was lost in his thoughts, the young man stepped forward. He acted as if he hadn’t just violently subdued a dozen people. Especially when Old Yang thought about the pretzel-shaped guy from Tianjin and the others who ended up trussed like tandoori chickens, he couldn’t help but shudder.

The young man pretended not to notice Old Yang’s caged-in-ice demeanor, untied Old Yang’s hands from the steering wheel with a few quick motions, and then smiled, "Master, why don’t you sit over there and rest for a bit? I’ll drive! I’ve never driven before, so it’s a good opportunity for me to practice..."

Practice he might say, but Old Yang was well aware that they wouldn’t let the soon-to-be-judged prisoner drive. It was probably to prevent him from making a desperate move!

After Old Yang took his seat, the young man started the truck excitedly, and while the engine was warming up, he reached into his pocket, pulled out a pack of cigarettes, and handed it over: "Have a smoke, Master, don’t be shy. This pack is for you. It’s already open and won’t keep long. I don’t smoke, so you keep it to savour slowly! The pack might be a little squashed from earlier, don’t mind it..."

Old Yang didn’t mind at all. He took the pack, which was missing a cigarette, and his mind ran wild again. Clearly, this was the pack that the young man had given to the middle-aged man who led the way earlier but had reclaimed it...

So thrifty, even reluctant to let go of a pack of cigarettes. When he had this thought, he swiftly took out his own pack of cigarettes and carefully placed it beside the young man’s pack.

"Hey..." the young man sighed upon seeing this. "You’re my master after having taught me how to drive for half the day. How could you even compare with them? They’re a bunch of gas guzzlers living by causing destruction. No matter how I treat them, it’s not unfair... The cigarettes I offered are for you, please don’t be shy. I’m not fond of formalities, just take them. No need to be polite with me..."

"My Master" you keep calling me, and yet you’re sending me to prison...

Old Yang thought gloomily and picked up the cigarette, smoking it a bit resentfully. What good would fear do anyway? As he smoked, he bemoaned, "There’s no point in taking more. I heard they search you thoroughly when you get in there. Let me puff a few now while I still can, I probably won’t have the opportunity to smoke once I’m inside!"

"It’s not that serious. This is your first time, and you’re just a messenger. If you admit to it, it shouldn’t be a big problem!" The young man comforted him with a smile. "Right, I’ve been calling you Master all this time, but I don’t even know your surname..."

"Just call me Old Yang..." Right now Old Yang had no mood to chit-chat with the young man! If not for the young man’s promise to plead on his behalf later, or if not for his high martial art skills, or if not for the gun he carries, or if not for ...

At this moment he wished he could have the young man crushed into ashes...

"Yeah, Master Old Yang! Since you’re free right now, why don’t you give me a few more pointers. We’ll drive faster and get there sooner to have peace of mind!" the young man said breezily.

Arrive sooner, to send me to jail sooner, right?

No wonder they say teaching a disciple may lead to the master’s downfall! If I damned ever take in another driving student, I’d deserve to be a pig, may I get into an accident each time I step out of the house...

Despite the resentment boiling inside, Old Yang dared not offend the young man at this moment. On one hand, he hoped the young man would keep his promise to plead his case. On the other hand, the young man had a gun. And there were the dozen people in the back of the truck. These were no ordinary people, they likely held sway in their regular lives, yet now they quietly lay there. Compared to them, what was he, a mere truck driver?

Although his mind was blank, he had no choice but to obey the young man’s order, directing him on how best to drive. The agony Old Yang felt was unspeakable!

Luckily the road, though narrow and broken, had hardly any cars. The truck was all they had to worry about. As long as it didn’t fall into a ditch, they would be fine. The young man grew more proficient as he drove. Soon enough, he was like an experienced driver on the highway!

Just as they were about to enter the county town, the newly mintified experienced driver suddenly stopped the truck. He then turned to Old Yang and said, "Master, I am getting out to make a call. You should come with me."

Old Yang was puzzled, where was he going to make a call at this time? Although he was confused, he understood that the young man didn’t trust him to stay in the truck alone, so he obediently exited. When he joined the young man, he saw a small shop on the roadside with a window and a bulb hanging, still lit.

Upon closer look, he saw a telephone inside the window. By the window was a notice board with the words "nighttime phone call" written on it.

At an even closer look, he inwardly cursed at the gangster inn.

Turned out there were small words below the notice board saying "three yuan per minute".

Such a rip-off. The usual price is less than a yuan per minute, but it triples during the night.

However, the young man did not seem to care. He walked forward and knocked at the window, calling out, "Boss, I’m making a call..."

Upon his call, a middle-aged man with bleary eyes peeked out from under the window, looked at the two and said, "Make it clear, nighttime calls are three yuan per minute. I’m not having an easy time in the middle of the night either. If you want to make a call, go ahead. If not, then leave it. Don’t quibble after you’re done!"