Return to Africa to become a tycoon

Chapter 1: Fresh from Transmigration, Already Tasting Foreign Delicacies

who am I?

where am I?

What am I doing?

As Liu Yide pondered these three philosophical questions, he looked around somewhat blankly.

Under the bright sunshine, the streets were bustling with people and carriages came and went in droves.

Most of the passersby were white, but there were also some Arabs, and even some Indians and Blacks.

Standing abruptly on the street, a thought flashed through Liu Yide's mind—he had time-traveled.

Just a moment ago, he was lying on the street in a first-tier city in the country.

At this moment, however, I am already in a foreign land.

He graduated from a second-rate university with a terrible major, failing both the postgraduate entrance exam and the civil service exam. At the prime of his youth, his eyes were clouded by the repeated humiliation of the 996 work schedule.

Anyone who has done sales knows that what's harder and more frustrating than drinking isn't being forced to drink one glass after another by the client, but rather that after you've finished all the drinks, they turn around and sign the contract to someone they have a connection with.

So he could only desperately engage in involution, exhausting himself to the point of exhaustion.

Another bout of hedonism ensued. He vomited uncontrollably on the curb, and before he knew it, he had fallen asleep on the roadside. When he opened his eyes again, he found himself in a completely different world.

For a fleeting moment, he even had another thought in his mind: What should I do about clocking in in the morning?

Being late will result in a deduction of pay.

The company can also find a reason to fire you at any time.

But... now, it seems we don't need to worry about these things anymore.

I have accumulated good deeds throughout my life, so it is only right that I am given this opportunity to travel through time!

As for those three fundamental questions, there will always be answers.

……

The sun gradually set in the west. A salty sea breeze filled the air, and European-style buildings stood on both sides of the street, with pedestrians coming and going.

At the dock, workers are still moving goods.

In the roadside bars, the drunken sailors, numbed by alcohol, emitted a nauseating stench that polluted the entire street; only the prostitutes remained full of vitality, trying to lure the newly disembarked sailors into squandering their hard-earned fortunes.

Here you'll find wealthy people dressed in fine clothes, ordinary people in tattered clothes, and people from foreign lands such as Arabs, Indians, and Black people.

Liu Yide is completely different from them; he doesn't belong to any of the groups here, yet his situation is probably more difficult than anyone else's.

Because he is a time traveler.

And he was penniless.

Anyone who has ever accompanied a client knows that no matter how much you eat at the dinner table, in the end it all goes out of your mouth and back to the earth.

Having not eaten or drunk anything for a whole day after transmigrating, he was now both hungry and thirsty.

My empty stomach was no longer just filled with hunger, but with waves of cramps from a hangover. I could try to endure it, but it was extremely uncomfortable.

He raised his hand to wipe the sweat from his forehead. Between hunger and thirst, his vision even began to blur, the street scenes flickering and overlapping before his eyes.

"Water... Let's find a place to get some water first."

As he muttered to himself, he remembered the river he had passed earlier.

There's water in the river, so why don't you go and drink some to quench your thirst first?

However, his instinct to seek advantage and avoid harm still prevented him from easily trying to drink the river water.

After all, everyone knows that tap water is not clean, and it would be such a waste if someone died after drinking just one sip.

I finally got to travel through time, but before I could even start, I was stuck with a mouthful of raw water. Who can I complain to about this?

Looking around, Liu Yide felt no excitement as a transmigrator, only utter helplessness.

One second I was feeling the lash of the 996 work schedule, and the next I was thrown into this unfamiliar place—a city filled with the stench of horse manure, horse-drawn carriages everywhere, sailboats and steamships crisscrossing the bay, and walls covered with foreign signs...

He arrived in Genoa, Italy in 1878—Italy's largest port.

In the bay, the smokestacks of steamships billowed gray smoke, and dozens of sailboats stretched as far as the eye could see, their masts forming a forest, intertwined with the steamships.

This clash between the classical and the modern constantly reminded him that he had truly traveled through time.

What's worse, besides this salesman's suit, he didn't have a single penny, and couldn't even find anything to exchange for money.

There was a cell phone or something in the bag, but who would want that?

So, where did the time traveler get his first pot of gold?

The sun was about to set. The Italian climate wouldn't freeze him to death, but the feeling of hunger was far more unbearable than the cold.

"Surely we can't afford to fail before we even get started..."

Only now did Liu Yide truly understand that what a time traveler faces first is never about saving the country and its people or grand ambitions, but rather the trivialities of daily life.

For example, the most urgent task right now is to fill our stomachs.

But how could he fill his stomach when he had no money?

What's more troublesome is that this is Italy, and most of the people I encounter only speak Italian.

Who would bother learning Italian for no reason?

His English level is only at the CET-4 level.

It's unrealistic to talk about grand plans right now; the most important thing is to face the situation positively and survive.

With these thoughts in mind, Liu Yide, starving, stood by the bay and looked around. In the corner of a Western-style building by the roadside, a wooden sign hung at the entrance, with the words "Lucky Sailors Hotel" written in English.

hostel?

English?

How can there be English restaurants in Italy?

Liu Yide was unaware that this was a characteristic of all ports in this era—British merchant ships accounted for more than half of the world's total tonnage, and almost all ports had restaurants and brothels specifically for British sailors.

Genoa, as Italy's largest port, is no exception.

Watching the sailors speaking English coming and going in the hotel, and glancing at the dishes on the "Today's Menu" on the wall, Liu Yide licked his dry, chapped lips, a resolute glint in his eyes.

"Eating and dashing."

He made up his mind.

"At worst, I can work to pay off the debt, or even use my body to pay for meals."

He took a deep breath, straightened his clothes, trying to make himself look less disheveled, and then stepped into the restaurant.

As soon as you enter, you are hit by a strong smell of sweat and an indescribable odor, with a faint stench of decay.

Loud music filled the air, a cacophony of men's unrestrained laughter and women's coquettish whining.

This is a paradise for sailors. Looking around, you can see white, black, and Indian sailors, and most of the women are like that too.

Most of them spoke English, or English with an accent.

Just as I sat down in the corner, an Italian boy came over:

"Sir, what would you like to order?"

The child was speaking English, probably because this was a port. It wasn't fluent and had an accent, but it was still understandable.

"One set meal."

Liu Yide pointed to the menu on the table, which was also in English.

"Another glass of water, please."

My efforts in learning English to the CET-4 level were worthwhile; simple communication is no longer a problem.

Not long after, a steaming bowl of tomato fish soup and a large glass of water were served.

He picked up the glass of water and drank it all in one gulp, letting out a long burp to quench his thirst. Then he began to gulp down the soup, dipping a piece of bread in the broth and finishing off every last drop on the plate. He was practically stuffing it into his mouth on instinct, not even bothering to savor the taste.

After finishing the meal, the stomach cramps finally subsided, and a long-lost feeling of fullness returned.

I guess I got to try something foreign today!

However, the next step, naturally, is to settle accounts.

What can I use to pay the bill?

Sitting in a corner of the bar, Liu Yide drank water while observing his surroundings.

He mentally considered the consequences of dining and dashing: This bar looked to be run by Italians; how would they deal with freeloaders?

The thought of Italy's infamous Mafia made his heart skip a beat.

Will I get beaten to death?

At the same time, he was also observing the customers in the shop, almost all of whom were sailors.

The air here was even more stale than a toilet, a mixture of cheap tobacco odors, beer smells, sour sweat stench, the aroma of food, and the cheap perfume of women. In addition, there was a peculiar stench, like the smell of rotting flesh.

At the next table, several sailors were each embracing scantily clad prostitutes, drinking and laughing loudly, their other hands already reaching under their skirts.

Although the light was dim, it was still very clear, even... well, it's better not to look at it... it's a bit too bright for my eyes!

No, something seems a little different!

With something on his mind, Liu Yide observed for a while longer!

He discovered that his vision seemed to have been enhanced, and he could see everything clearly.

Noticing someone watching him, Hyde, who was flirting with a prostitute, followed the gaze and saw the Asian man staring at him, his gaze seemingly fixed on his hands. He instinctively pulled down his sleeve, his face darkening with displeasure.

"What are you looking at, kid!"

The sailor was burly and muscular, with a fierce look on his face, as if he were about to make a move at any moment.

But Liu Yide only glanced at him indifferently:

"I'm watching you."

I'm not looking at you, I'm looking at the golden statuette in action...