The shopkeeper carefully stored the model under the counter, while Gao Hai Ming pocketed a stack of cash and left the store. I quickly pulled Meng Meng aside to avoid being noticed.
“Do you know him?” Meng Meng asked.
“He’s the ‘Sanitary Pad King,’” I said.
“I thought the ‘Sanitary Pad King’ would be some sleazy old man,” Meng Meng laughed.
We watched as Gao Hai Ming drove off in a small Japanese car. With his wealth, he could easily afford a Ferrari if he wanted. It seemed he preferred a low-profile lifestyle, much like his introverted personality.
I dragged Meng Meng into the shop, where the shopkeeper, a young man, greeted us.
“Who was that man who just handed you the model?” I asked.
“I only know his surname is Gao,” the shopkeeper replied.
“Why did he give you the model?”
“He builds models for other people. That one was bought by someone else, and he delivered it after finishing it.”
I was shocked. The “Sanitary Pad King” built models for others?
“Do you know what he does for a living?” I asked.
“I’m not sure—probably just a regular office worker. He makes extra money building models,” the shopkeeper said.
I couldn’t help but laugh. Did someone like Gao Hai Ming really need to make extra money this way?
“The models he builds are the best I’ve ever seen,” the shopkeeper added.
“Doesn’t he buy models for himself?”
The shopkeeper shook his head.
This behavior of Gao Hai Ming’s was truly odd.
An idea struck me, and I asked, “If I buy a model, can I request that he build it?”
“Yes,” the shopkeeper replied.
I selected a battleship model.
“That’s not possible,” the shopkeeper said.
“Why not? Didn’t you just say I could request him to build it?”
“He only builds fighter jets,” the shopkeeper explained.
“Only fighter jets? Why?”
“I don’t know—he just does.”
“Then let’s choose a fighter jet,” Meng Meng said.
“Which is the most complicated one?” I asked.
The shopkeeper grabbed a box from the shelf. “This one—an F-15. It’s quite complex.”
“Perfect. I’ll take it,” I said.
“I’ll pay half,” Meng Meng offered. “He does business with me every month; he owes me this.”
“Great!” I laughed.
“When will it be ready?” I asked.
“Leave your phone number. Once it’s finished, I’ll let you know. He’s usually pretty quick,” the shopkeeper said.
“Make sure not to tell Mr. Gao that someone specifically requested him to build it,” I reminded him.
The shopkeeper looked puzzled but nodded in agreement.
The last time, Gao Hai Ming had teased me, claiming he was the one behind the rumors about BeeComfort and Ai Baobao. This time, it was my turn to tease him.
During a meeting at Le Tao, I deliberately passed by Gao Hai Ming’s office. Sure enough, he was engrossed in assembling the F-15 model.
“Mr. Gao,” I greeted him.
He nodded slightly.
“That’s quite a complicated fighter jet,” I remarked.
He nodded.
I felt secretly triumphant.
“Goodbye,” I said softly to him.
Three weeks later, the model shop owner called to inform me that the fighter jet model was finished.
“He did an excellent job,” the shop owner said in an admiring tone. “The man really has a gift.”
The fighter jet model was indeed beautiful. As I looked at it, I thought about the three weeks of time and effort Gao Hai Ming had spent on it, and I couldn’t help feeling a sense of delight.
I brought the model to my office and placed it on my desk. Wang Zhen walked over and asked, “Who built it? Is it your boyfriend?”
“No, my boyfriend is studying in the UK,” I replied.
“Really?” she asked curiously.
“He’ll graduate in eight months.”
“You have such a sweet expression when you talk about him,” Wang Zhen teased.
It turns out happiness is hard to conceal.
Suddenly, Wang Zhen began coughing violently.
“Are you okay?” I patted her back.
“I’m fine. I’ve always had a weak constitution,” she said.
“You should take better care of your health.”
“I’ve tried both Western and Chinese medicine,” she replied.
“You should try exercising—it’s the best medicine,” I suggested.
Fang Yuan noticed the fighter jet model as well and came over. “Who built it? It’s stunning.”
“I can’t tell you,” I said, feigning mystery.
0 Comments