Chapter 24 What is Master Waverley doing?

After Sophia finished her business, she remembered to call him back.
"Remington, what's up?"
"You're just now arriving at the company?"
"No, I just went to the Industrial and Commercial Bureau for some matters. Why did you call me?"
"Nothing."
"Nothing? Then why did you ask me to call you back?"
"Have you considered buying a car?"
"Why would I buy a car?"
"When you go out for errands, wouldn't it be more convenient?"
In fact, what he meant was that driving was safer than riding an electric bicycle.
He continued, "If you don't have enough money to buy a car, you can use an installment plan. I'll pay off the loan."
He couldn't just tell her all at once that he'd pay for the car, considering he was currently "bankrupt" and had no money.
Without thinking, Sophia responded, "The company has cars and drivers. I just think riding an electric bicycle is convenient, doesn't get stuck in traffic, and it's not far. I have nothing else to discuss, so I'll hang up now. I'm busy."
On the phone, he was busy too but still said, "Be careful riding your bike, don't go too fast, watch the road."
"Got it. Thank you." Sophia hung up the phone in a hurry.
For those few brief seconds, she wondered, “Why was Remington a little concerned about her today?”
She didn't dwell on it.
In the following days, after finishing work, Sophia would prepare for setting up her regular developer stall. She stocked up on goods, chose a spot to set up the stall, and also made arrangements with the urban management. She had found out that all the stall vendors in that area had to make arrangements with the urban management to operate without worry.
To make transportation easier, she even bought a rickshaw cart.
On the day when everything was ready, it happened to be Saturday. Remington had claimed to have overtime at the company because of matters within the conglomerate, so he had left early in the morning.
In the afternoon, around three o'clock, Sophia sent him a message, "Remington, what time will you be back today? It's my first day setting up the stall, so if you're done with your work, could you help me out? If not, work comes first."
Overtime in the IT industry was very normal. Sophia wouldn't force Remington to come back and help. But Remington still came back. He sat in the Rolls-Royce, about to have the driver Peter park the car across from Shantytown and walk back to Shantytown.
That way, Sophia wouldn't notice.
But at this moment, he saw Sophia riding a rickshaw cart, boldly speeding past the intersection and stopping by the park on the opposite side. She planned to set up the stall by the park because there was a large flow of people there.
Remington frowned.
Her speed riding the electric bike was already fast enough. Now, with a tricycle loaded with a high and heavy stack of goods, she was driving at such a fast and bold pace without paying attention to safety?
"Park the car," Remington ordered with a frown.
Peter said, "Master Waverley, we can't park here, we have to make a turn."
"I said park the car!" Remington said with a stern face, as if giving an order.
Peter had no choice but to illegally park here. He saw his employer, Master Waverley, get out of the car and ignore the traffic lights as he went straight to where the tricycle had stopped. From afar, driver Peter took a glimpse.
Was that woman, who had the strength to carry a heavy bag of items from the tricycle, the newly wedded wife of Master Waverley?
Peter found it incredible.
How could a woman like her marry the unattainable Mr. Waverley III?
Remington approached Sophia, "Didn't I tell you I was coming back? Why didn't you wait for me to set up, and why are you riding the bike so aggressively?"
Sophia, setting down a bag of goods, Remington saw a woman with a gloomy face in front of him. "Can you ride a tricycle?"
This puzzled Remington, as he did not know how to ride one.
"I can't."
"Then why did you make me wait for you?"
Remington was speechless.
"Give me a hand and help me carry this."
Remington was actually quite strong, thanks to his regular workouts and boxing training. However, he had never carried such heavy goods before, so he was unsure how to proceed. Plus, he had hurried over today and didn't have time to change out of his suit.
The goods were packed in large snakeskin bags, covered in a layer of dust, making it really difficult to know where to start.
As she noticed him standing there in a daze, Sophia looked up and noticed that he was unusually well-dressed today. "Are you wearing a suit today?"
Setting down the goods, she straightened up and felt the fabric of his suit.
"It looks really high-end. Didn't you say that all of your clothes were locked in the bank-seized house? Where did you get such a luxurious suit?"
"The company asked me to meet a client and said that I was dressed too casually, so I bought it on the spur of the moment," Remington said while helping her with the goods.
With her hand on her side, Sophia thought about how he had to go to work now and that he usually just wore the two sportswear sets she had bought for him, without any nice clothes. It was really shabby to go out like this.
She decided that she would buy him two nicer outfits.
Across the street, Peter parked his car and looked over.
What was Master Waverley doing?
He was actually selling goods with a woman by the park?
The esteemed Mr. Waverley III of the Waverley Group, worth a 9-figure fortune, the tycoon who employed nearly 40,000 employees, was here with his newly wedded wife, selling goods like a common merchant?
Peter was almost shocked enough to have his jaw drop.
What reason could possibly make Master Waverley willingly act like a lowly peddler and stay by his wife's side?
Could it be because his wife was at the lowest rung of society?
Other than that, Peter couldn't find any other reasonable explanation.
Remington willing to use his strength to help Sophia with the goods was something Peter could understand. After all, men had strength and should use it.
But when it came to unpacking and setting up the stall, Remington refused.
With people coming and going in front of the stall, some asking questions, some not necessarily buying, and some even haggling, Remington couldn't accept this.
He stood at the innermost part of the stall, unwilling to have any interaction with these common folks.
However, Sophia was different.
It seems that she was born to do business, being able to attract customers and strike a deal with just a few sentences.
"Message received, 89 dollars."
"PayPal received, 129 dollars."
The sound of incoming money made Sophia very happy. She just loves the feeling of making money. Even if it's just a small amount. But every little counts.
This is her extra income outside of work, and it all adds up little by little.
With no customers at the stall, Sophia looked at Remington, who appeared very out of place in his "newly bought" suit.
Today, Remington wore a suit that seemed expensive compared to his surroundings.
Sophia couldn't help but feel that his suit must have cost a lot. She casually chatted with him for a bit.
"Remington, how much did you spend on your suit?"
Revealing the price might shock Sophia.
So Remington lied again, "A little over a thousand."
Sophia thought for a moment, "That's a bit pricey."
Remington didn't say anything.
Sophia continued, "Remington, are you embarrassed to sell things? There's no one here right now, but when it gets crowded, you should help out instead of just standing there like a log. This isn't a fashion runway."
Saying this, Sophia couldn't help but feel that Remington, who stood at nearly two meters tall, was like an international male model with extraordinary looks.
Even those famous international supermodels couldn't match his charisma, right?
Remington said with a stern face, "I can't sell things."
Sophia asked, "Then how did you do business before and earn enough money to buy two houses?"
Even though his business failed and went bankrupt, he at least earned money before. He should know how to speak and negotiate. Is it necessary to be so awkward when setting up a stall?
But Sophia didn't force him.
She pulled Remington to the front of the stall, "It's okay if you don't like dealing with customers. Just stand here and don't say anything. If you get tired, you can sit."