Cindy walked out of the female shopping boutique, carrying her white polythene bag that contained all her purchases. She struggled to walk with the load in the bag, as she wasn’t used to carrying heavy items.
Cindy was sweating profusely and clutched her red purse tightly with her left hand while carrying the white bag in her right hand.
Stepping out into the scorching sun again, she muttered under her breath as many people crowded the road, blocking her path to the parking lot where she had left her car.

Unable to walk faster, Cindy moved toward the pavement on the road to step up onto the sidewalk, inadvertently bumping into some passersby. The shopping mall was particularly busy since it was the weekend.
Cindy's phone rang in her red purse, but she couldn’t answer it as she pushed her way through the crowd, making her way toward the main road.
As Cindy struggled to move and turn toward the parking lot, which was far from the shopping mall, a handsome, fair-complexioned man who had just finished helping an elderly woman with her groceries spotted her. He noticed how hard Cindy was struggling with her bag.
The man had helped the elderly woman place all her items in her car trunk.
He approached Cindy to offer assistance with her small polythene bag.
Cindy looked funny and frustrated in his eyes, displaying annoyance at having to carry such a small bag.

"Hello, ma’am. Excuse me, let me help you carry your bag. Helping people with their loads is my job," he said.
Cindy was taken aback by the handsome, masculine voice she heard.
She looked up at the man’s face and gulped hard as she met his handsome gaze.
For a moment, Cindy seemed shocked, her jaw dropping at his good looks. Her cheeks flushed red, but she noticed that he looked a bit dirty; she understood that was due to his job.

Cindy finally asked him, "Really, how much do you charge to help people carry their loads?"
Nervousness set in as she continued blushing in front of him; she had never seen a handsome man in such a humble position before. He was helping various people carry their loads as his job.
Even all the men Cindy had dated in the past, none were as appealing as this laborer.
Cindy stared at the man, waiting to hear his response, but the odor of sweat emanating from his body—dressed in a faded yellow top and black shorts—made her nose twitch in irritation.
The strong smell mixed with his manly scent twisted her expression, but she heard him reply, "Twenty cents, ma'am."
Peter Richards was thrilled to have the chance to help such a beautiful lady carrying her load for free since it was small and he wasn't supposed to charge her at all.
However, he noticed Cindy frowning, likely due to his excessive sweating from rushing to help her after assisting the elderly woman.
Using his right hand, Peter wiped the sweat from his forehead, not having a handkerchief with him. But his awkward action annoyed Cindy.
"Gross! How dare you do that in front of me? Please stop; it’s very irritating," Cindy scolded.
"How much is a handkerchief that you can’t afford one? Or do you plan to use that smelly hand of yours to carry my bag? No, no, no!" Cindy refused Peter's help, feeling disgusted by his actions.
Peter gulped, embarrassed by the beautiful woman yelling at him.
He couldn’t respond directly and said, "No, ma’am. Let me use my shirt to wipe off the sweat."
"No! No, no," Cindy exclaimed again as Peter turned his shirt to wipe his sweaty forehead under the hot sun.
"That’s enough! That’s so gross. Here’s a hundred-dollar bill. Just use it to buy a new handkerchief and some clothes for yourself because you stink so badly. And please, get out of my way; I can manage carrying my bag myself before you give me a disease," Cindy said, unfazed by the stares of those around them.
She tossed the $100 at Peter and walked away before he could catch it, heading to her car.
Peter was shocked by Cindy's insult, especially that she threw the $100 bill at him, which landed on the floor.
He hadn’t expected such a large amount of money for doing nothing and realized that, despite his hard work, he could never earn that much in a legitimate job.
Peter quickly picked up the money from the ground before the breeze blew it away or another passerby bent down to pick it up or steal it.
He stood up and glanced toward the direction Cindy had gone, but he didn’t see her again.
Peter clutched the money that the young lady in the white dress had given him, feeling unacquainted with her.
"Wow! She’s so pretty."
Peter didn’t take Cindy’s insult to heart. He said, "I just hope to see her again."
He smiled and finally decided to close for the day, quitting his errand-running to help others carry their loads.
Instead, he planned to go shopping, save part of the money, and headed to the nearest bank to deposit it.
Most of the female staff at the bank were familiar with Peter and admired him as he walked in. He approached the lady who usually helped him save his little earnings.
She took the $100 from him, staring at him as if he had stolen the money, as he wanted to save half of it and use the other half to buy food.
Peter needed new clothes for himself, as his sweaty clothes had become torn too.
"What’s the problem, ma’am? Is the money fake or torn?" Peter asked, looking back at the female bank staff suspiciously.
He was still overjoyed that Cindy had given him such a big amount without demanding anything in return.
"Where did you get this money? Did you steal it or what?" the bank’s female accountant couldn’t contain her suspicion as she knew Peter was poor.
Peter replied, "No! How can you accuse me of such? I come here every day before you close to deposit all my money, and you accuse me of being a thief?"
Peter glared at the female staff, and she quickly looked downward as she felt the eyes of her colleagues and manager on her. She softly muttered to Peter, "I’m only asking to be sure, Mr. Here’s half of the money you requested. The other half was deposited into your account."
"Are you sure? Or are you just lying to me? Let me see the receipt showing it," Peter challenged her, knowing that the female bank staff had her eyes on him and seemed interested in a relationship, which he wasn’t keen on.
The bank staff bit her lower lip before she printed out the receipt and slowly handed it to Peter, who snatched it from her as she said, "Here it is."
Peter examined the receipt and saw that the money had indeed been deposited into his account. He smiled in satisfaction and muttered to the female staff, "Thank you."
Peter turned and left the bank with the remaining cash in hand, heading out to meet a wheelbarrow pusher selling men's clothing along the roadside.
He bought some new male clothing. He first purchased new shorts and a top and then a new pair of black trousers.
Finally, Peter went to a public bathroom to clean up since he didn’t have a home. He changed into the new clothes he had bought, as he was squatting with friends under a bridge.
"I just hope to meet more pretty young ladies like her again. It's the first time I've offered to help a young woman carry her load, and she even gifted me money without any expectations," Peter continued to gush over Cindy’s kindness. He didn’t even know her name, only that she had given him money without him doing anything in return. "I just pray we meet again."
Peter sighed and went to a nearby restaurant to order a delicious meal to fill his almost empty stomach since night was fast approaching and he hadn’t eaten since morning.
"Peter, is that you?" a familiar voice called to him, and he turned to see his colleague who also stayed under the bridge with him.
As they usually slept under the bridge at night, he moved away from his dark-skinned friend who tried to touch him after arriving from the restaurant.
"It’s me, Tom," Peter said, avoiding Tom's attempt to hug him. "No hugging."
Tom Elliot stood smiling at him and asked, "Tell me the secret, Peter! Where did you get the money to buy those beautiful clothes you’re wearing? Or have you finally agreed to service a woman in her bed, and she paid you handsomely for it? I know you’re a handsome man, and every woman wants you... So, how much does she pay you per night? Maybe I should quit carrying loads and join you in this handsome sugar-boy business."
Peter stared at his friend Tom Elliot with narrowed eyes and walked away to sit on a bench in an empty shop, knowing the owner wasn't around. Tom gulped, moving closer to stand in front of Peter, and asked, "What’s wrong? Was I just assuming?"
"I know, Tom. But I didn’t sleep with any woman to get paid," Peter replied.