"Hey, 'Rookie' little bro, come here, come here, sit down first and then we'll talk."
Big Bear pulled Chen Fei to an arm-wrestling table without a word, pushed him down into the seat opposite, and laid the pitiful-looking AK-47 across the table, saying, "We're friends alright, but today you've got to give me an explanation!"
If this were just any ordinary modern firearm, that would have been one thing, but such an original AK was already rare, and one in near-mint condition was even scarcer. Ruin one, and one less exists—a beating right then and there for the kid across from him was already Uncle Chekhov showing good temper.
"I, I—I don't know!"
Chen Fei trembled.
The gun was in such a shape, what could he possibly do?
A famed antique firearm like this, he had no idea where to find another, probably meaning he would have to pay a hefty sum.
"Listen, this AK-47 is an original piece from Izhevsk Armory a hundred years ago, the market price is 2.8 million, but I got it for only 2.3 million. I'll give you a 20% discount, rounding down, just compensate me 1.8 million and we'll call it even," Chekhov said while seriously doing the math, quoting a fair and honest number.
Antique famous firearms are non-renewable hot collectibles; their price only goes up. I bet in a few years, breaking 3 million wouldn't be impossible.
Even right now, a friendly price of 2.3 million Star Yuan isn't easy to come by.
"But I don't have any money!"
Chen Fei was as pale as a sheet, shaking his head like a rattle-drum, and while saying this, he was utterly panicked.
He was in the advanced stages of poverty, a millionaire in debt, where would he get such a sum to compensate the other, let alone 1.8 million Star Yuan? Even selling himself wouldn't cover it.
"You don't have money?"
Chekhov looked half-skeptical, half-believing. In his own view, 1.8 million Star Yuan wasn't a big deal.
The others gradually fell silent, looking at Chen Fei with some sympathy. It seemed this kid was about to get thrashed any minute now.
If anyone thought the squadron leader of "Genuine Fragrance" Combat Flight Squadron was some easy-going charitable soul, they were sorely mistaken.
A punch from Big Bear could easily put someone in bed for a good half month, at least.
Chen Fei spoke with a bitter tone, "Squadron Leader Chekhov, it's not that I don't want to compensate, but I also owe 7 million Star Yuan in debt. Not to mention 1.8 million Star Yuan, I don't even have 10,000 Star Yuan. My salary all goes to paying off the debts, how could I possibly have any money left."
Bumping into such bad luck out of the blue, it really was like the roof leaking during a rainy night, even a fart could injure his heel.
Moreover, a debt of 7 million Star Yuan accrued interest. Even if it weren't usury, an eight percent interest rate was the norm. His current salary wasn't even enough to cover the interest, but the credit company was eyeing Chen Fei's future, considering he was a university graduate preparing for advanced studies. College students these days still had some value.
If he had been some no-name community college student, the credit company wouldn't even give him the time of day.
"No money..."
Chekhov pointed at himself with his thumb, looking both arrogant and domineering.
This was probably the only solution without a choice.
However, the pay in the Combat Flight Squadron was always generous and definitely ranked among the top of the Aircrew Base. As long as he could fly for ten or eight years, he would surely be able to pay off the AK-47's debt.
"That's not going to work, not going to work; I don't know how to fly a plane."
Chen Fei shook his head rapidly, Big Bear's suggestion was outright coercion.
Even though Chekhov had previously mentioned joining the Combat Flight Squadron, Chen Fei had no intention of agreeing.
Chen Fei had barely accumulated a full month's time in the aircraft maintenance crew, and he hadn't even fully understood the structure of the A-39B "Big Mouth Monster" light turboprop attack aircraft, let alone flying it – he was virtually a blank slate on that matter.
Moreover, the last time Chekhov forcefully dragged Chen Fei into the cockpit without a word and clashed directly with Metallic Dragons, it was like fighting the ultimate boss right after entering a beginner's village in a game; now he even had psychological trauma from almost losing his life on his first flight, on top of a new debt of 2 million Star Yuan.
To go through that a second, a third time... was it even possible to live like that? That's just setting someone up for failure.
Flying was out of the question, he would never do it in this lifetime; at most, he would just take commercial flights.
Big Bear slammed the table between them forcefully, threatening with a ferocious look, "Not possible? Then pay up, either a brand-new, original AK or 1.8 million Star Yuan, not a penny less."
You can't escape whether you're a person or money; none will get away.
"Rookie, just give in!"
"Yeah, yeah, Major Chekhov is only thinking of your best interest."
"Squadron Leader, talk nicely, you're scaring the rookie."
The crowd once again started persuading, not voicing their own opinions this time but unifying their stance, together coaxing Chen Fei to join Major Chekhov's 'Genuine Fragrance' Combat Flight Squadron.
"..."
Chen Fei became a picture of helplessness and pity.
Being poor meant having no say; his element was lacking Gold, blame fate then!
"I'll say it one more time, after dinner tomorrow, come to the 'Genuine Fragrance' Squadron's dormitory meeting room for the interview. If you don't come, huh!"
Chekhov clenched his fist, making crackling noises, looking every bit the part of a gangster boss.
Most of the employees at the 911 Aircrew Base were tool-men, even executive manager Morris Morgan was no exception, yet the people in the Combat Flight Squadron were different.
As a high-skill profession where experience was measured by flying hours, they could find work and get by anywhere; the pay wasn't bad, and the job itself was easy. Even after hitting the age limit and retiring, one could still become a flight instructor or, if good with writing, help compose a few flight manuals to earn some manuscript fees, ensuring a comfortable retirement life.
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