Naming Technique of the Night
Chapter 902: 557. Battlefield

Chapter 902: 557. Battlefield

Qing Chen walked solemnly out of the Pigeon Cage Building, and just as he stepped out, a bag of trash fell from the sky. If he hadn’t dodged quickly, the trash might have landed directly on his head.

Laughter erupted from the building above, with someone mocking, “Your aim is terrible!”

In the room with the open window, someone laughed and said, “Next time, you try it!”

They were on the 12th floor, and even from below, one could hear the booming music from their room.

Qing Chen understood that the people upstairs were deliberately throwing garbage at pedestrians.

These people lived for the moment, residing in the filthy Pigeon Cage, and they ignored both their own lives and those of others.

“This doesn’t feel like the human world,” Qing Chen shook his head and left, intent on taking the No. 11 light rail tram to the Fourth District Black Swan Restaurant.

Right behind him, a young member of the Black Water Gang quietly followed him.

This method of tracking was very clumsy, clearly not professional.

But Qing Chen paid him no mind.

He walked to the light rail station on the 66th floor of the building across the street, where it was nestled within the building, and a group of people from the slums awaited their journey to the Upper Sixth District to start their night work.

From afar, lights approached, the white tram lights brazenly illuminating everyone, before coming to a slow stop.

Just as Qing Chen was about to board the tram, a young boy, Zhang Mengchan, suddenly brushed past him, bumping into him.

Qing Chen nonchalantly got on the tram and then pulled out the small note that had been slipped into his pocket: The Black Water Gang is tracking you, this information is worth 50 bucks!

“The price has gone up,” Qing Chen laughed. At first, the young boy limited by poverty only dared to ask for one buck, but now knowing Qing Chen had some spare cash, he immediately raised the price.

The kid was quite clever. If he could survive, he might achieve something in the future.

But in this class-locked Inner World, even if one had achievements, what difference would it make?

Qing Chen put the note back in his pocket, and the young man from the Black Water Gang also got on the tram.

…

…

6 PM.

Qing Chen stood at the entrance of the Black Swan Restaurant, examining the tastefully decorated facade.

Two burly security guards in suits stood at the door, stopping Qing Chen, “Please show your electronic membership beacon.”

Qing Chen politely said, “Hello, I’m here to apply for the waiter position. I have already passed the interview with Manager Wang from the concierge department and am here today to report.”

The two suited security guards exchanged a glance. They saw countless people every day, and although this young man in front of them was dressed plainly, he had an impressive bearing.

They initially thought he was a guest, but were surprised to learn he was here to interview.

One of the security guards said, “Please wait, I’ll let Manager Wang come to get you.”

Meanwhile, the member of the Black Water Gang who had been tailing Qing Chen turned around to make a phone call, “Hello, big brother, it’s confirmed, just an ordinary down-and-out guy, we can make a move. He’s currently reporting at the Black Swan Restaurant to work as a waiter.”

On the other end of the line, they said, “Okay, I got it. Tonight or at the latest tomorrow, take him down and match him with a client. You get a 2% cut for this job.”

“Thank you, big brother!” the young man immediately beamed with delight.

Inside the Black Swan Restaurant, in the concierge department.

“Chen Sui, I see from your resume that you have worked as a waiter in other restaurants before? I won’t need to teach you how to do it then, right? Break a glass, and it’s a thousand deducted. Once the deposit is gone, you’re out,” said a middle-aged man in a suit, looking over the resume and then glancing at Qing Chen.

“Understood, Manager Wang,” Qing Chen humbly replied.

Qing Chen had already paid a deposit of 5,000 bucks and changed into the Black Swan Restaurant’s uniform, black suit pants, a white shirt, a black vest, and polished leather shoes.

A black bow tie was also tied around his collar.

Qing Chen was impersonating Chen Sui because this guy had turned to betray Hu Xiaoniu and Zhang Tianzhen under dire circumstances in the daylight.

If he didn’t retaliate against this kind of backstabbing behavior, Qing Chen wouldn’t be Qing Chen.

Of course, at most, he would just cause Chen Sui some minor troubles—it wasn’t necessary to bring disaster upon him.

Manager Wang assessed Qing Chen, “You’re in good shape, born to be a clothes rack. But let me lay down the rules first: those who spend at the Black Swan Restaurant are either rich or noble. They come here for nightlife, and we can only provide service, not disturb them actively.”

“When you report to work, you must turn in your phone and check that you aren’t carrying any recording devices. Also, don’t look at the guests’ female companions, and don’t become paralyzed if you see a female celebrity. In short, you’re here as someone from the slums to make money, so don’t have any unrealistic desires; follow the rules. Of course, if a high-caste guest wants to take you away, don’t refuse and don’t cause trouble for us at the Black Swan. Understood?”

Qing Chen was taken aback. Such rules existed?

He could imagine the look of Jindai Yunhe, ready to watch the show when he had told him about Jindai Yunhe’s fondness for visiting the Black Swan Restaurant.

“Hmm?” The middle-aged man hummed through his nose when Qing Chen didn’t answer.

Qing Chen lowered his head, “Understood, Manager Wang.”

Manager Wang waved his hand, “If you make a mistake, you’ll be out, and you won’t get back the deposit you painstakingly gathered. Off you go.”

In his demeanor, there was a clear disdain for Qing Chen, as if fearing that even getting too close would bring the bad luck of the slum with it.

Qing Chen walked to the bar, where the bartender placed two prepared “Polar Chill” cocktails on the counter, “Take these to the guests at table 12.”