Author: hoeniely (Page 1 of 16)

Gu Lizhou handed the menu back after ordering. “I’m done.”

Zhong Weishi had been to this restaurant quite a few times and was already familiar with the menu. He quickly checked off several dishes on the order sheet in less than half a minute.

Gu Lizhou felt that the dishes he picked matched his personality—fast and fiery.

Spicy pork intestines, stir-fried chicken in soy sauce, spicy crayfish, dry pot ribs… Basically, everything looked like it would be heat-inducing.

In contrast, Zhong Weishi thought the dishes Gu Lizhou ordered looked like vegetarian meals straight out of a temple.

Vegetable and tofu soup, stir-fried broccoli with garlic.

Was this the taste of a health-conscious man?

He even suspected that Gu Lizhou was worried he couldn’t afford the meal and was trying to save money for him.

“You’re on a diet ah?” Zhong Weishi asked.

“Do I need to lose weight with this figure?”

Zhong Weishi recalled the abs and long legs he had glimpsed when returning clothes last time.

There was indeed no need.

When the lady boss came over to collect the menu, Zhong Weishi was about to order a bottle of soju, but Gu Lizhou stopped him.

“Are you crazy!? You still have injuries, and you want to drink?”

“Oh,” Zhong Weishi changed his request, “then get me two bottles of Globe Trekker!”

“…” Gu Lizhou turned to the lady boss and said, “Two cans of coconut juice.”

“Two bottles of Globe Trekker and two cans of coconut juice?” the lady boss confirmed.

Gu Lizhou: “No, just the coconut juice.”

Zhong Weishi propped his chin on his hand. “Beer counts as alcohol ah? It barely has any degrees.”

“You want degrees, huh?” Gu Lizhou pointed at a kettle on the cashier’s counter. “Boiled water, 100 degrees. Go boil it yourself.”

Zhong Weishi: “…”

The lady boss chuckled. “Your brother is just looking out for you.”

“He’s not my brother.”

“I’m his father.”

Both blurted out at the same time, ushering in a long silence from the lady boss.

“You had a child quite early ah.”

Zhong Weishi: “…”

Gu Lizhou threw his head back and slammed the table, laughing uncontrollably.

It was peak dining hour, and the dishes were served one after another.

One was slow and methodical, while the other was like raining chopsticks.

Zhong Weishi was used to eating with Qiangzi and the others like like a hungry tiger pouncing on its prey, so he never thought there was anything wrong with his table manners. But sitting alone with Gu Lizhou, the difference became clear.

When he finished sweeping a bowl of rice, the one across from him had only peeled two crayfish.

After polishing off two bowls of rice, he pushed his favorite pork intestines toward over. “Eat ah, eat ah. You haven’t eaten since this morning, right?”

Gu Lizhou pointed at the dish. “Do you know what that thing used to be filled with before it went into the pot?”

“Shit. So what?”

Gu Lizhou silently scooped up a spoonful of rice.

“It’s not like it wasn’t washed.” Zhong Weishi popped a few more pieces into his mouth. “It’s really good. Try it.”

Gu Lizhou shook his head like a rattle drum.

“The pork intestines are their signature dish! Trust me!” Zhong Weishi picked up a piece and placed it in Gu Lizhou’s bowl.

“I’m not eating it. It smells like poop.” Gu Lizhou immediately put it back into Zhong Weishi’s bowl.

“It’s this flavor that makes it delicious!” Zhong Weishi went as far as pouring some of the sauce over his rice and mixing it in.

Gu Lizhou held his head, unable to keep watching.

“Pretentious.” Zhong Weishi gave him a glance.

The meal dragged on for quite a while, mostly because Zhong Weishi was fooling around, talking about how vile that eunuch character was, then about the rich woman investigating her husband.

“That woman is really pitiful. Her kid is already seven, and her husband is out there fooling around with women using her money. If it were me, I would’ve skinned his face off. Imagine how disappointed that kid will be when he grows up and finds out what kind of man his dad is ah.”

Gu Lizhou had always found family drama the most exhausting topic. Just listening to it made his head hurt. “Bottom line, stay out of these messy situations. If you get into trouble again, it’s useless to call me.”

Zhong Weishi completely missed the underlying message in his words and just grinned. “I won’t la.”

By the time this dinner was over, it was already dark.

Gu Lizhou had originally planned to find a dessert shop nearby and buy Zhong Weishi a small cake as a gesture, but the guy’s stomach was so stuffed he could barely bend down.

“No more, if I eat anything else, I’m really going to throw up.” Zhong Weishi held his belly with one hand, walking like a pregnant woman.

Gu Lizhou couldn’t stop laughing at the side. “Who told you to eat so much?”

“Well, you didn’t say you weren’t gonna eat when we ordered. Then when the food came, you wouldn’t eat this, wouldn’t eat that. What was I supposed to do? Let it go to waste?” Zhong Weishi let out another full-bellied burp. “This is the first time I’ve seen a guy eat so little. Haven’t you been starving since this morning? What did you even eat, cat food?”

Gu Lizhou was still laughing. “Well, at least I finished everything I ordered. Eating too much at night isn’t good.”

“That’s because you old people need to take care of yourselves. We young people need to load up on energy.” Zhong Weishi lifted his shirt, took a deep breath, and slapped his stomach. In an instant, his abs snapped back into eight-pack abs. “Look at this. Impressive, huh?”

Gu Lizhou was already laughing so hard he was slumped over. “Who the hell wants to see that ah?”

“But you did look.” Zhong Weishi pointed at his stomach. “Isn’t it cool? Flat or sculpted, I can switch at will.”

“Lunatic.” Gu Lizhou felt like his mouth was cramping from laughing too much. Zhong Weishi was a fvcking god.

The god in question realized he’d eaten way too much tonight and suggested walking back to the apartment to digest. Gu Lizhou didn’t refuse.

The night was hazy, the air carrying a lingering warmth. The Mid-Autumn Festival was approaching, and the moon in the sky was growing rounder.

Under the streetlights, their shadows stretched and shrunk with each step.

Maybe it was because dinner had been too satisfying, but for the first time, Zhong Weishi took the initiative to talk about his childhood—about the orphanage and then about Grandma Zhao’s house.

“Back then, after my little sister and I finished our homework, we’d follow Grandma to rummage through trash bins for plastic bottles. In the summer, we could collect quite a lot in one night.”

Gu Lizhou listened quietly, his mind conjuring up the image of three skinny figures.

“You think my childhood was really miserable ah?” Zhong Weishi turned his head to glance at him.

“En.” Gu Lizhou felt like miserable wasn’t even a strong enough word. Just surviving must have been a daily struggle.

Zhong Weishi smiled. “Honestly, it might sound miserable, but we didn’t feel ashamed or anything. We didn’t even have a concept of poverty. Finding an empty bottle made us so happy—because if we collected a hundred, Grandma would buy us popsicles!”

Gu Lizhou’s gaze carefully followed the big guy beside him. He noticed that the corners of his mouth remained slightly upturned as he spoke, a sign that this memory was a good one for him.

His eyes were like cat’s eye gemstones washed clean by the rain—clear, bright, and glimmering.

“Have you ever had ice pop? The kind you snap in half with a ‘crack’?” Zhong Weishi asked.

“Of course ah. I’m not that old, okay?”

“You became my Dad and still not old?”

“And now you recognize me as your Dad?”

“…”

They walked side by side under the dim streetlights. Passing a small convenience store, they saw a fridge at the entrance packed with all kinds of trendy new ice cream treats.

Zhong Weishi halted, and the lady boss immediately called out, “Hey, little brother. These are all the latest viral ice creams—super delicious. Want to give one a try?”

Zhong Weishi pulled open the fridge door. “Pick one. My treat.”

“Didn’t you say you’re stuffed? You still have room?” Gu Lizhou turned to look at him.

“This is a piss at best.” Zhong Weishi rummaged through the bottom and pulled out ice pop, a frozen treat that practically carried his entire childhood.

Gu Lizhou closed the refrigerator door.

“You’re not having one ah?” Zhong Weishi tore open the wrapper, gripping the bottom of the ice pop.

Gu Lizhou grabbed his fingertips with one hand and held the other end of the ice pop with the other.

“Click.”

“What are you spacing out for? Pay up ah.” Gu Lizhou bit down on his half of the ice pop.

Zhong Weishi grinned and fished a coin out of his pocket.

As night fell, the temperature dropped noticeably, and the wind brushing against their arms carried a slight chill.

The evening breeze lifted the fallen leaves from the ground, taking away the day’s frustrations along with them.

With the taste of their childhood, the two exchanged a smile.

For the first time, Gu Lizhou took a closer look at Zhong Weishi’s features—those captivating, peach blossom eyes, a high nose bridge with a small mole on the tip, and lips still wet and slightly red from the ice pop.

His features were sharp and well-defined. The slightly raised arch of his brows softened the youthful look in his eyes. Combined with the scars on his face, he carried a bit of a roguish air when he wasn’t speaking or smiling. But the moment he did smile, his eyes curved into little crescent moons.

Quite an infectious smile.

When Zhong Weishi turned his gaze forward, Gu Lizhou allowed himself to observe a little more boldly.

He noticed the redness at the edges of the boy’s ears and the way his prominent Adam’s apple bobbed slightly.

The distance from the restaurant to home was quite far. Gu Lizhou remembered sitting in the taxi earlier that day, growing impatient with each red light they hit. But now, after chatting along the way, the giant clock on top of the apartment building came into view before he even realized it.

“We’re here.” Zhong Weishi grinned, spinning the plastic bag in his hand.

“En.” Gu Lizhou smiled too, “If you’re here, you’re here, I’m also heading upstairs ah.”

Zhong Weishi nodded, sensing an inexplicable atmosphere settling between them.

This was the first time they had walked home together since knowing each other.

It wasn’t really that long, only a few months, but it felt like they had known each other for years.

By now, they had already figured out each other’s temperaments.

That bloated feeling from dinner had unknowingly disappeared.

Zhong Weishi yawned up at the night sky.

It was a strange yet wonderful feeling.

Like catching the faint scent of lilacs by the roadside when spring arrives, like walking through a small park and having a friendly cat rub against your pant leg, or like breathing in the crisp, clean air at dawn, watching the first streaks of red spread across the sky…

In short, the mood was very good.

Zhong Weishi suddenly laughed while staring at the small advertisements plastered in the hallway. “Hey, do you remember the first time we met here?”

Gu Lizhou paused for a moment, then mimicked his tone from back then. “You put these up?”

Zhong Weishi threw his head back, laughing. “Back then, did you think I was some shady guy?”

Gu Lizhou: “Shady or not, I couldn’t say. But I definitely thought you were a bit retarded.”

“Scram,” Zhong Weishi cursed, then snorted. “I thought you were some rich woman’s sugar baby at first.”

Gu Lizhou smiled and didn’t say anything.

Zhong Weishi froze for a second, thinking he had hit a sore spot. He eyed him suspiciously. “Wait, so is it true? Hey, we’re bros, I wouldn’t judge you. As long as you turn over a new leaf, it’s fine.”

“..” Gu Lizhou considered for a moment before saying, “I only keep people, no one can tie me down.”

What he got in response was a long, drawn-out sound of disgust. “Yi~~~~”

“Yi what? You don’t believe me?” Gu Lizhou walked up the stairs at an unhurried pace.

“So have you actually kept someone?” Zhong Weishi pressed on.

“What, you want to try?” Gu Lizhou raised an eyebrow.

Zhong Weishi covered her little heart in fear for a moment, “I’m not the kind of person who just goes along with it.”

“If someone offered you a hundred thousand to sleep with them, would you do it?”

“Just sleep?”

“Do you think it’s possible?”

Some rather inappropriate images flashed through Zhong Weishi’s mind, and his face turned bright red. “I just realized—you have a really dirty mind.”

“But you didn’t say no,” Gu Lizhou said with a grin.

“I don’t give a sleep,”¹Written like this in the raw. Zhong Weishi declared stiffly.

“What the hell?” Gu Lizhou nearly choked from laughter.

Zhong Weishi put on a serious face. “I don’t give a sleep.”

Gu Lizhou burst into laughter again. “Brat.” He pushed open his door and stepped inside. “Good night.”

“Oh,” Zhong Weishi waved his hand, ”Good night.”

The door shut, but Zhong Weishi remained standing outside for a while.

Even though it was just a joke, he had seriously considered—for a brief moment—whether ten thousand per night was a good deal.

Maybe it was because the person asking was Gu Lizhou, but the face he automatically pictured belonged to him.

And the answer his brain provided made him feel downright filthy.

Zhong Weishi figured Gu Lizhou probably didn’t believe that “I don’t give sleep.” Even he didn’t fully believe it himself.

But thoughts were just thoughts. A bottom line was still a bottom line.

So where exactly was the bottom line?

Ah, ah, ah, ah—

Anyway, it’s just not allowed!

When he went back inside and prepared to take a shower, a few knocks came from outside the door.

Zhong Weishi put down his clothes and walked toward the door. “Who is it?”

There was no response.

The moment he opened the door, a figure suddenly jumped out from behind the wall with a loud “roar.”

“fvck!” Snapping back to his senses, he lifted his knee and slammed it into the intruder’s thigh. “You fvcking scared the piss out of me!”

Gu Lizhou rubbed his thigh, instinctively glancing at Zhong Weishi’s crotch. “Did you really piss yourself?”

“Roll!” Zhong Weishi tightened his waistband. “What do you want ah?”

“Weren’t you asking for a gift?” Gu Lizhou handed him a newly bought book and patted his shoulder. “Your white moonlight’s autograph. The one and only, ultra-rare, limited edition in the entire universe. Keep it safe.”

Zhong Weishi’s eyes lit up as he took the book and flipped it open. On the title page, in bold gold letters, was a casual yet striking inscription:

To: Little Beast,

Glad you like me. Happy birthday! May your path to stardom be smooth, and may you never forget your original aspirations!

Signed: Your handsome and wealthy dad,

—Wan Lizhou.

Gu Lizhou lowered his gaze to watch him, hands clasped behind his back, chest puffed out—ready to accept the inevitable reaction of a die-hard fan collapsing in joy, crying tears of gratitude, and kowtowing in worship.

His heart pounded wildly, his excitement soaring at the thought of breaking the boundary between reality and fantasy.

In the next second.

He heard the boy’s furious yell: “Gu Lizhou! You, you, you, you, why did you forged his autograph ah! Ai yo—!”

This was reaction #101—completely outside the hundred different scenarios Gu Lizhou had imagined.

His eyes widened in shock, and a breath got stuck in his chest, neither going up nor down. A suffocating wave of disbelief washed over him.

At this moment, shouldn’t he be clutching his hands with trembling fingers, recognizing him at last, then asking for a luck-bringing hug?

This didn’t make sense ah!

Something had to have gone wrong in the process.

Gu Lizhou grabbed the back of Zhong Weishi’s head in a frenzy, his fingertips shaking from urgency. “You, you, look again—really look carefully ah. Wan Lizhou’s personal autograph! Don’t you recognize his handwriting? Look at the strokes, hmm? Doesn’t it feel incredibly familiar…”

Zhong Weishi couldn’t even be bothered to glance at it. Back in the day, he used to forge celebrity autographs and sell them for money. He dares to show this little trick. Did Gu Lizhou think he could just drag his IQ across the floor like this?

Zhong Weishi let out a dry laugh, brushed Gu Lizhou’s arm aside, and said, “Look my ass. Are you brain dead? What kind of author calls their own fan a little beast in an autograph? Give me ten minutes, and I can whip up a dozen of these.”

Gu Lizhou’s expression was like someone who had just choked on a rice dumpling.

Speechless.

He attempted to log into Weibo to prove his identity—only for the system to prompt him with an incorrect password.

The brain-dead fan let out a mocking “Hehe.”

Gu Lizhou had always set his passwords randomly, storing them all in a notebook that he’d left back in B City. Since he had also changed phone numbers, he couldn’t even retrieve the password at the moment.

Taking a deep breath, he tried to salvage the situation. “Wait, just give me a second—let me think ah, let me think…”

“Yeah, right. If you’re Wan Lizhou, then I’m the richest man’s son.” Zhong Weishi felt that this person was simply sick and patted Gu Lizhou’s shoulder. “Go home, wash up, and get some sleep. You can have anything in your dreams.”

The renowned author Wan Lizhou, fell off his horse,²It can also mean had his identity revealed. was so frustrated he felt short of breath, his face heating up. He even considered calling 120³Emergency number in China. for himself.

Meanwhile, Zhong Weishi caught sight of the black gift bag in his hand.

“What’s this ya?”

The plot had completely departed from Gu Lizhou’s initial imagination.

He shoved the bag against Zhong Weishi’s chest with an irritated tone. “You know damn well.”

Zhong Weishi grinned and pulled out the item inside.

A rectangular, elegantly packaged gift box—silver-gray wrapping, a deep blue satin ribbon tied into a bow at the top left corner.

When he opened the package, Zhong Weishi gave a surprised “wow”, which was expected by Gu Lizhou.

With his hands still casually clasped behind him, he asked in an offhand manner, “Do you like it?”

“Love it!” Zhong Weishi ran his fingers over the smooth watch face, “Super like it!”

The corner of Gu Lizhou’s mouth lifted slightly. Finally, the stifled feeling in his chest eased up a little. “Then try it on.”

Zhong Weishi carefully lifted the watch from the box. “This is actually the first time in my life I’ve ever worn a watch!”

“Is it?” Gu Lizhou raised an eyebrow.

Zhong Weishi rotated his wrist, showing off his new gift from every angle. “What do you think? Do I look like an elite businessman now?”

Gu Lizhou burst out laughing. “You look like a lunatic. You might as well go model for a TV shopping ad.”

Zhong Weishi immediately slipped into an advertisement tone: “Eight-star, eight-arrow diamond inlay—crafted to withstand the test of time! And today, not for 3,999, not for 2,999, not even for 1,999—only 999!”

Gu Lizhou collapsed onto the couch, laughing so hard his shoulders shook.

The two of them huddled together, studying the manual for a while before setting the time properly.

Zhong Weishi admired the watch over and over, unable to put it down. He was beyond pleased.

There were times on set when he couldn’t have his phone on him—now, with this watch, it would be so much more convenient.

“I finally have a watch.” Zhong Weishi raised his arm. “Don’t I look extra classy?”

Anyone who gives a gift hopes they can poke the other person’s fancy, and seeing his joyful little expression, Gu Lizhou felt his heart melt just as much as Zhong Weishi’s.

The failed identity reveal has long been thrown to the sky.

The two of them sat on the couch watching TV for a while until Zhong Weishi suddenly nudged Gu Lizhou’s arm. “Quick, ask me what time it is.”

“Psycho!” Gu Lizhou laughed, but still played along. “What time is it?”

Zhong Weishi lifted his wrist, pinched the watch face between his fingers, and put on an expression of deep solemnity. “22:39.”

After a while.

“Ask what time it is again.”

“…”

During rush hour after work, traffic moved slowly. By the time Gu Lizhou arrived at the police station, it was already past five o’clock.

Zhong Weishi was hunched over the desk, writing a self-reflection like a little kid being punished by a teacher.

Old Li sat nearby, holding a teacup and pointing things out. “Now analyze the potential consequences of this incident in more detail.”

“Oh.” Zhong Weishi couldn’t write his homework. He scratched his ears and cheeks, his face full of frustration and grievance, hoping Gu Lizhou would hurry up and take him away.

This was too fvcking painful!

Old Li tirelessly lectured him on legal knowledge.

“In our country, private detective work is illegal. No individual or organization can investigate others without authorization. Illegally obtaining or selling personal information, tracking details, or communication content is a criminal offense!”

“If the content you filmed somehow gets leaked, it won’t just be a simple fine ah…”

The word “crime” made Zhong Weishi shudder. “I-I-I didn’t, I absolutely didn’t!…”

“Really?” Old Li squinted at him. “Didn’t do it, or just didn’t have the chance yet ah?”

“Absolutely not!!!” Zhong Weishi shouted, raising three fingers. “I swear! If I ever sell that stuff, I’ll never become a big star in my life!”

“As long as you didn’t.” Old Li tapped on the self-reflection paper. “I’m just reminding you—always think twice before you act. Never let greed get the best of you.”

Zhong Weishi nodded fervently.

“Did you finish copying the Eight Honors and Eight Shames I told you to write?”

“N-not yet.”

“Then keep copying.”

“I can already recite it. Do I still have to copy it ah?”

“If you can recite it, then why did you still make mistakes?”

“… Okay.”

Zhong Weishi felt like he was going through a streak of water retrogression¹It can also mean bad luck. lately—nothing was going his way.

When Gu Lizhou walked in after paying the fine, a young officer on duty stopped him. “Who are you looking for?”

Zhong Weishi immediately turned his head, eyes lighting up as if he’d seen his savior. His lips curled up slightly, looking just like a Samoyed welcoming its owner.

The corner of Gu Li Zhou’s lips hooked, “I’m looking for my son.”

Zhong Weishi’s “You’re finally here!” got stuck in his throat.

“What’s with the glare? You were calling me so enthusiastically on the phone earlier, and now you don’t want to admit it?” Gu Lizhou chuckled as he walked over, ruffling Zhong Weishi’s hair. “Finished copying yet?”

Annoyed, Zhong Weishi swatted his arm away. “Not yet.”

It was just in time for dinner, and the people in the reception room had already left.

Gu Lizhou’s arm was propped up on the table, he lowered his gaze to see a self-reflection paper written in elementary school handwriting.

Before he could reach for it, Zhong Weishi quickly stuffed the paper into his chest.

Gu Lizhou inexplicably laughed, “The words are written like that, it’s too much effort for me to read them. What’s there to hide?”

Zhong Weishi huffed and firmly wedged the paper between his thighs.

The incandescent bulb overhead was a bit dazzling.

The boy tilted his head and lay sprawled on the desk, continuing to copy the Eight Honors and Eight Shames.

From his posture to the way he held the pen, nothing was correct. A small tuft of hair near his cowlick curled up stubbornly, making his silhouette resemble a drowsy student nodding off in class.

Gu Lizhou placed his palm on the back of his head, trying to smooth down the unruly strand. But the moment he pressed it down, it popped right back up.

A certain someone still didn’t know how to appreciate kindness and looked all sulky. “What are you doing ah? Hands all over me. This is a police station—be careful, or I’ll tell the police uncles that you’re harassing me.”

Gu Lizhou smacked the tuft of hair on his head. Zhong Weishi immediately raised a hand to cover the back of his head while his right hand continued scribbling furiously.

“How much more?” Gu Lizhou leaned in to ask.

Zhong Weishi glanced down and counted, his face full of misery. “Thirty more times.”

Gu Lizhou dragged a chair over to sit beside him and pulled a ballpoint pen from the pen holder.

Only then did Zhong Weishi break into a grin and split the stack of A4 paper, handing him a sheet. “Thanks la!”

Gu Lizhou rested his chin on one hand, twirling the pen effortlessly. “Call me Dad, and I’ll help you copy.”

Zhong Weishi gritted his molars. “Are you addicted to being a father!?”

“Ah.” Gu Lizhou raised an eyebrow. “Just like how you called me earlier on the phone—only, make it a little coy…”

Before he could finish, Zhong Weishi shoved him away. “Roll, roll, roll, roll, roll!”

“Ungrateful son.” Gu Lizhou tapped his pen against Zhong Weishi’s forehead. “Using me and then tossing me aside?”

Zhong Weishi let out an ‘ow.’ “Ow ah!”

“Don’t pretend to be so pitiful. I didn’t even use any force.” Gu Lizhou pinched his chin and threw it towards his side, and found that there were indeed several bloody marks on his right cheek, as if he had been scratched by a cat’s claw.

Gu Lizhou lifted his bangs for a quick look.

His handsome face was miserable.

His skin was red and swollen, his forehead had a bruise, and the spot where Gu Lizhou had just tapped seemed to be right over that bruise.

“She scratched you ah?”

“Yeah. What, you think I just fell on my own ah.” Zhong Weishi turned his face away and rubbed his chin.

“With your IQ? Can’t say for sure,” Gu Lizhou said with a laugh.

Zhong Weishi gave him a blank look, “You just love watching me suffer.”

20 minutes later.

The fifteen copies Gu Lizhou had written were deemed invalid by Old Li on the spot because the handwriting was too neat. He tore them up without hesitation.

Zhong Weishi copied fifteen more times with a sullen face. By the time he finally walked out of the station, he was starving, his stomach practically glued to his back. Only two words echoed in his mind: Deep regret.

Meanwhile, his gloating “Dad” was standing outside the Public Security Bureau, playing on his phone, a bag in his other hand.

Zhong Weishi walked over and glanced down curiously. “What’s that ah? Snacks?”

“Yeah, something good.” Gu Lizhou pocketed his phone. “Here, take it.”

Zhong Weishi took the bag and peeked inside—only to find a bunch of anti-inflammatory medicine and healing ointments.

Before he could even say “thanks,” Gu Lizhou continued, “Can you apply the medicine yourself? If you don’t take care of those wounds, they might scar.”

Zhong Weishi froze in horror. “No way! I’m an idol-style powerhouse actor!”

The little beast was good-looking, but the moment he called himself an idol, Gu Lizhou couldn’t help but laugh. “No way, huh? When has your Dad ever lied to you?”

“… Are you done yet!”

“Nope. Remember to disinfect with antiseptic first…” Gu Lizhou paused, then reconsidered. “Forget it, forget it, forget it. I’ll just do it for you. If your hand shakes and it gets in your eye, you’ll have to go for the egg yolk pie look instead.”

His tone wasn’t exactly gentle—if anything, it was asking for a spanking—but Zhong Weishi still felt his heart turn soft.

He had lived for over twenty years and met all kinds of people, but none were quite like Gu Lizhou—attentive, considerate, easygoing, generous… Even without a job, even with his laid-back attitude, it was these little things that made him feel so reliable.

The name ‘Gu Lizhou’ was the first one that came to mind whenever he felt helpless.

“There are chairs over there.” Gu Lizhou pointed toward a small public park nearby.

But right now, Zhong Weishi felt like food was a bigger priority than medicine.

If he didn’t eat something soon, he might just pass out in the middle of the road. He had been busy gathering intel since noon, running from the hotel to the police station without a single meal. Earlier, he had caught a whiff of a junior police officer’s takeout—steamed rice in a wooden bucket—and nearly started drooling on the spot.

But Gu Lizhou was walking fast, so he had no choice but to keep up.

On a park bench, two figures sat side by side.

Gu Lizhou opened a bottle of antiseptic, carefully checking the instructions and expiration date before pulling out a cotton swab.

“Close your eyes.”

As soon as Zhong Weishi shut his eyes, he felt a large hand push up all his bangs, a warm palm pressing lightly against his forehead.

“Hiss, hiss, hiss—” A cool sensation spread across his skin, making him instinctively jerk back.

“What are you hissing for? I just touched it, I haven’t even pressed it down yet.” Gu Lizhou maneuvered the cotton swab to his other hand, grabbed the back of Zhong Weishi’s head, and pulled him forward. “Stay still.”

“Be gentle ah.” Zhong Weishi kept his eyes closed, feeling insecure about the whole thing. He worried Gu Lizhou wouldn’t control his strength. “Don’t press too hard, just lightly…”

“Afraid of pain? You’re not some little girl that you can’t stand little pain? Didn’t you have plenty of guts when you were secretly taking pictures of people? If you make mistakes, you have to accept the consequences—otherwise, you won’t learn your lesson.”

Zhong Weishi pouted, his tone carrying a hint of pleading. “I know I was wrong, just be gentle…”

Gu Lizhou smirked.

He might have called it punishment, but his hands were trembling as he applied the medicine—especially over the scr4p3d skin, afraid of actually hurting the little friend.

Applying medicine on someone else was much scarier than applying it to himself.

Zhong Weishi kept his right eye shut, but his left eye peeked open just a sliver. Gu Lizhou’s expression was so serious, it looked like he was performing some kind of high-stakes surgery.

Seeing his lips come a little closer, Zhong Weishi was so frightened that he hurriedly closed his eyes.

Warm breath brushed past his cheek to the corner of his eye, and the areas where the antiseptic had been applied felt cool.

He heard the rustling of passersby stepping on dry leaves.

Zhong Weishi smelled a faint scent of mint, like some kind of fruit candy he had eaten as a child.

Gr4p3s or peaches?

With his focus completely elsewhere, the sting of his wounds barely registered anymore.

“Don’t open your eyes ah,” Gu Lizhou said.

Zhong Weishi assumed he was about to put on a bandage. He smiled and obediently murmured, “Oh.”

The next second, he heard the click of a camera shutter—followed by Gu Lizhou’s unrestrained laughter. “Idol-style actor, huh? Basically ugly hahahaha—when you get famous one day, I’m definitely leaking this to your fans.”

“…” Zhong Weishi clenched his fists.

Stay calm.

Murder is illegal.

–

Huangfu Qiang and the others had all been dragged home by their parents by the ear, undoubtedly facing a round of severe beatings. Their birthday gathering had to be postponed until the solar calendar date instead.

“I’ll just treat you to dinner. What do you want to eat?” Zhong Weishi packed all the medicine back into the bag.

Gu Lizhou: ““Anything.”

Of course, the consequence of saying “anything” was that Zhong Weishi dragged Gu Lizhou into a fly restaurant²Small restaurants that don’t have exquisite but have great taste. It can also mean a cheap, narrow eatery. that looked like it would fail a health inspection.

The walls were stained with grease, but business seemed to be booming. The dozen or so square tables inside weren’t nearly enough to accommodate everyone.

Several shirtless men sat around a table, drinking and smoking with a large pot of lobsters that had been peeled off. Their posture was completely relaxed—short of dragging out lounge chairs.

That table was by far the rowdiest, while the staff ran around, drenched in sweat, trying to keep up.

The enthusiastic lady boss called out, “Sit anywhere and order whatever you want ah. Just call when you’re ready.”

“There, there, there!” Zhong Weishi spotted a couple getting up to leave and immediately shoved Gu Lizhou forward by the shoulders to snatch the spot.

The moment the aroma of food hit, Gu Lizhou’s stomach let out a couple of loud growls.

“You’re hungry too ah?” Zhong Weishi grinned and slid the menu over to him.

“No shit. I haven’t eaten since this morning.” Gu Lizhou said.

“No way…” Zhong Weishi gave him a disdainful look. “You didn’t starve yourself just to mooch a meal off me, did you? You’re really something.”

“You think I’m you ah!” Gu Lizhou raised the menu, ready to smack him on the forehead, but stopped himself just in time.

“I had trouble sleeping last night and woke up late today. When you called, I’d only been up for a little while,” Gu Lizhou explained.

“Insomnia? Why would you have insomnia? Is it an age thing? My grandma seems to have it too.” Zhong Weishi bombarded him with questions.

Gu Lizhou’s hit was as powerful as lightning.

“Ow.” Zhong Weishi rubbed his head and slumped onto the table. “Why couldn’t you sleep ah? Is it because you can’t find a satisfying job?”

Gu Lizhou: “Thinking about how to split you into pieces every day is exhausting.”

Zhong Weishi lay sprawled on the table, laughing uncontrollably.

80% of Gu Lizhou’s social circle consisted of grown men, most of them over 30. Even if someone had a birthday and gathered everyone together, it was nothing more than drinking, eating, and singing a few songs. Forget gifts—even a cake was a rarity.

Something like asking for a gift had never happened before.

The kid wants a gift.

What should he buy?

Clothes? Pants? Would that be too plain and boring? The clothes he gave last time hadn’t even been worn.

A whole box of Weilong spicy strips?

Pfft.

Just the thought of it made him laugh.

Gu Lizhou couldn’t come up with a good idea, so he called Cao Zhiheng. “Figured out what you’re getting for your father-in-law yet?”

“Buy red wine ah. Why? You got a better idea?”

“No, just asking. Make sure you pick something with a bit of class. Don’t end up buying a fake bottle and chugging it down—getting drunk on counterfeit booze isn’t a good look.”

Cao Zhiheng cursed at him. “You bastard, can’t you wish me well for once?”

Gu Lizhou laughed out loud “Ai, did that little lunatic in 301 tell you tomorrow’s his birthday?”

“He mentioned it, but I’m not sure if I’ll be free tomorrow night. Why? He didn’t invite you? Jealous that I’m more well liked?” Cao Zhiheng said.

Gu Lizhou couldn’t hold back a curse, laughing so hard his eyes nearly squinted shut. “He asked me ages ago. He probably just mentioned it to you out of politeness. I mean, we live together—he wouldn’t want me telling you about it later and making it awkward for you.”

“Cut the crap. I’ve known him for ages. Just recently, I even got him a role as the chief eunuch in a production. He’s probably inviting me to thank me. You, on the other hand, are just the ‘bonus gift’ in a buy-one-get-one deal,” Cao Zhiheng boasted shamelessly.

Gu Lizhou laughed heartily but still insisted on arguing, “Then did he invite you to his birthday in the past few years?”

Cao Zhiheng had no idea what’s up with him today that he had to compare this with him, but he genuinely felt that his relationship with Zhong Weishi had taken a qualitative leap forward thanks to that chief eunuch role.

“We weren’t that close the past four years. We just got familiar this year. You know, brotherhood like ours takes time to cultivate.”

“Have some shame.” Gu Lizhou pulled the conversation back on track. “So what are you planning to give him?”

“Give him what? Just send a WeChat red envelope to show some goodwill.” Cao Zhiheng responded without hesitation.

Gu Lizhou was momentarily stunned. “He didn’t ask you for a gift?”

“A gift? What gift? A red envelope is practical—what’s wrong with that?” Cao Zhiheng said. “Besides, who the hell would go around actively asking for gifts ah!”

Gu Lizhou: “…it’s that good brother of yours, ah.”

Human psychology was truly strange. He was clearly being chased for a gift, yet realizing he was singled out as someone special somehow put him in a good mood.

Even after hanging up the call, the smile on his lips refused to fade.

He clicked on a certain treasure¹Taobao. Whereas 某宝 meant certain “宝” or bao which can also mean treasure. website and had just typed in “gift for guys” when an automatic suggestion popped up.

—Gifts for Boyfriend

As if possessed, he clicked on it.

Watches, gaming consoles, razors, engraved lighters, couple T-shirts, custom ceramic mugs… The average price was under 150.

Almost every product’s main image had captions like ‘A gift no boyfriend can resist!’ ‘Guys will tear up instantly!’ ‘Give this, and he’ll love you even more!’ and so on.

The visuals were overwhelming, but internally, he felt nothing—if anything, he wanted to laugh.

He flipped through several pages, but everything felt like the kind of gifts only seventeen or eighteen-year-old kids in their awkward, innocent phase would give.

The second time, he changed the keywords: gifts for grown men.

Surprisingly, it was the same stuff…

He must be searching the wrong way.

Alright, let’s try again.

The third time’s keyword: gifts for little kids

…fvck. How the fvck is it still those!

It’s not working!

Gu Lizhou nearly flipped his laptop over in frustration.

Switching to a certain hu ²This is another website: Zhihu.for answers, the suggested gifts had a bit more class.

Noise-canceling headphones, men’s perfume, notebooks, handcrafted leather wallets, mechanical keyboards, sneakers, speakers…

But none of them gave him that immediate “Ah, that little bastard would like this” feeling.

Gu Lizhou kept refreshing the page, feeling like an old father painstakingly researching university majors and future career paths for his kid.

I’m so exhausted, I’m going bald.

It was even more brain-consuming than codewords.

Was this how Zhong Weishi felt when he helped him find a job back then?

Gu Lizhou clicked into Zhong Weishi’s WeChat Moments, hoping to find some clues. Instead, he scrolled through a bunch of short videos.

Most were clips from the set—Zhong Weishi jumping off a shipping container, landing face-first in the dirt, then getting up and grinning stupidly at the camera.

Qiangzi performed his signature trick of swallowing a whole dragon fruit in one go. The deep red juice dribbled down his neck as he spoke, “Xin-jie’s fruit store—imported straight from Hainan! Sweet and juicy, guaranteed! Order a box now and get two extra for free! Local customers from Yucheng can have it delivered at their door!”

Another video featured him devouring a watermelon. He stood in a solid horse stance, holding the melon with both hands. At the sound of a whistle, he jerked his head forward—and in an instant, the watermelon flesh was gone. Meanwhile, the person next to him was still struggling to take their first few bites.

Qiangzi wiped his mouth dramatically in front of the camera, wearing the calm, confident smile of a true champion.

Gu Lizhou watched the videos with a twisted expression, his stomach aching slightly. What kind of hardcore survival skills were these…

Just as he clicked on the next video, Zhong Weishi’s frantic screaming blasted from the speakers, startling Gu Lizhou so much that he hurried to lower the volume.

“AH AH AH AH AH AHAH—GU-ZI GU-ZI GU-ZI GU-ZI GU-ZI! SIGN THIS FOR ME AH—I—I—I—I’M YOUR FAN!—”³Apologies for the upper cases on this one if it hurts your eyes lol. Since he was screaming, I figured I’d use this here. Thanks!

It looked like the back hallway of a high-end hotel. The shaky, nausea-inducing camera work barely captured a glimpse of a handsome celebrity’s smiling face.

The Superstar Gu himself patiently took the pen and doodled a spiral potato skewer on Zhong Weishi’s shirt.

“Gu-zi, you radiate righteousness—even when you play villains, you look like an undercover agent! I’ve seen all your movies, super handsome!— You have to take good care of yourself ah!” Zhong Weishi’s voice trembled with excitement. At the end, he even added in Cantonese, “I I really like this one ah.”

Superstar Gu gave him a slight nod, flashing a dazzling yet impeccably polite smile before leaving.

Gu Lizhou: “…”

Did this guy even know what he was saying?

And… just how many people did he like?

The video was replayed twice.

Pursing his lips, Gu Lizhou exited WeChat. With that enthusiasm, that tremble in his voice, that sheer joy spilling through the screen—Gu Tianle was definitely his white moonlight!

Once that inexplicable sour feeling faded, a sudden flash of inspiration struck Gu Lizhou—autograph!

Right, right, right, autograph, autograph!

Wan Lizhou’s autograph!!!

It felt like he had just cracked a complex Olympiad math problem—his was instantly energized

With a swift motion, he dashed out the door.

At noon, the scorching sun blazed overhead, even making the taxi driver look drowsy from the heat.

Gu Lizhou paid the fare, got out of the car, and hurried into a large bookstore.

Luckily, even after all these years, Wan Lizhou’s books still occupied a prime spot in the bestsellers section.

The <Wraiths> a complete set of twelve volumes—just lifting them was a workout. Would this be too… hefty as a gift?

Gu Lizhou imagined Zhong Weishi, full from a meal, carrying this stack of books home like he was hauling a bundle of explosives. He couldn’t help but laugh.

There are too many.

Better to pick just one.

The autograph was secondary—the real goal was to bestow upon him the prestigious title of “personal acquaintance of the renowned bestselling author Wan Lizhou.”

Gu Lizhou had already started picturing hundreds of possible reactions from Zhong Weishi when he found out his true identity.

Maybe he’d want a hug, soak in his brilliance…

Will he scream at that time?

Definitely.

Then, blushing furiously, he’d cover his face, recalling the heartfelt confession he had once read aloud at night—probably embarrassed to the point of collapse.

Prepare to tremble, foolish Earthling.

Gu Lizhou, still lost in his fantasy of Zhong Weishi being moved to tears, grinned at the book cover’s wraparound band for a good while—until someone tapped him on the shoulder.

It was a young girl. She pointed to her throat and ears, then shook her hand before gesturing at the donation slip in her other hand.

On it was a fundraiser for a children’s welfare organization.

Gu Lizhou gave her all the cash in his wallet.

A simple red string bracelet could be exchanged for a twenty-yuan donation, but he had given several hundred all at once. The girl looked overwhelmed. She only had two bracelets left in her pocket—most of the remaining items were little bells.

The temperament of the man in front of her didn’t seem like someone who would wear bells.

She quickly pulled out a prepared notebook, writing: “Thank you for your kind donation. Wearing this will bring you good luck.”

“Is it blessed?” Gu Lizhou teased, twirling the red string between his fingers.

The girl squinted and smiled, nodding. She flipped to the next page and wrote: “Wishing you and your lover good health.”

“I don’t have a lover yet,” Gu Lizhou chuckled. “But thanks anyway.”

The girl lowered her head and wrote quickly, “It will help you find one!”

Even though he knew it was just a little trick to coax kids, he still accepted it with a smile.

At the checkout counter, he picked out a gold-embossed signature pen. After paying, he headed straight to the café next door.

What would be a good thing to write?

Gu Lizhou solemnly made a draft on his cell phone memo.

“To Xiao Weiwei…” No, no, no, way too mushy.

“To Zhong Weishi…” Does that sound too distant?

“To little bastard,” that worked.

After signing, Gu Lizhou blew lightly on the page for a long time, letting the ink dry.

But still, considering that he was Zhong Weishi’s ultimate white moonlight in the 2D world, just giving him a novel worth a few dozen yuan felt a little stingy.

So, he headed to a nearby shopping mall and picked out a mechanical watch. It had a sleek black dial, a leather strap, and a simple, versatile design.

From the moment he stepped in, the sales associate had been chattering non-stop. “This one looks really good on you, suits you perfectly—very classy and sophisticated.”

“It’s not for me, it’s a gift.”

“A gift still needs to be sophisticated ah.”

“…”

“This model is currently 20% off, and you’ll get a complimentary gift worth 199 yuan.”

“Just wrap it up nicely.”

“No problem, no problem! Would you like the gift to be wrapped separately?”

Just then, his phone rang—it was Cheng Hang. Gu Lizhou absentmindedly replied, “No need, just put everything together.”

“When will you be back?”

“In a couple days, I still have some things to do here.”

“Alright, no rush. The planning department is still recruiting new people. When you’re back, call me—I’ll take you to our company’s operations department so you can get a feel for the game’s concept and design requirements. Then you can decide if you want to write for it.”

“Good.”

The calm surface of the lake rippled.

Gu Lizhou lost sleep again that night.

His emotions were complicated, his mind a tangled mess of thoughts.

About the past, the present, the future. About dreams…

He thought about what he really loved.

He used to think that if he ever stopped writing, he would probably die. But he didn’t. Life went on.

That’s probably what life is all about.

Finding joy in monotony, creating something extraordinary out of the ordinary.

The next day was another hot sunny day.

Gu Lizhou slept until past three in the afternoon.

His head was groggy from the lack of sleep. After getting up and washing up, he caught sight of the small gift box on the table, finally remembering Zhong Weishi’s birthday.

While shaving, he mentally ran through the entire big reveal and gift-giving sequence.

First, he would hand over the novel and casually mention that it had Wan Lizhou’s personal autograph. When Zhong Weishi opened the cover and saw that one-of-a-kind, exclusive signature—the ultimate badge of honor—he would definitely go nuts, jumping around so wildly his head might explode from excitement.

Then, after confirming his identity with tears of joy, they would share a heartfelt embrace.

Maybe Zhong Weishi would blush, stammering as he showered him with rainbow farts. But as a calm and composed author, he had to stay steady—no laughing.

With a dignified wave of his hand, he would say, “Genius or not, I’m just an ordinary person. But from now on, live well ah! Never stop chasing your dreams! As long as you work hard, fate will be beneath your feet. Trust me!”

Zhong Weishi would be so overwhelmed he’d tremble all over. “You’ll always be my idol…”

That’s when he would present the watch as a souvenir for his fan.

Even the most ordinary gift would take on extraordinary meaning because of who it came from.

“Well? Isn’t it thrilling, seamless, and unforgettable?”

Cao Zhiheng scratched his cheeks, genuinely moved by the elaborate plan. “Man, that’s really thoughtful. If it were me, I would’ve been moved to tears! No matter what you give at a time like this, you’ll be moved to death!”

“Right? I thought so too.” Gu Lizhou was full of confidence.

Just then, his phone rang.

He had barely said “Hello” when Zhong Weishi’s panicked voice exploded through the receiver. “Come, quickly save me ah—”

Gu Lizhou was so scared that his liver trembled, “What happened?! Where are you?”

“I—I…” Zhong Weishi sounded pitiful. “I got taken to the police station.”

Gu Lizhou’s eyes widened. “How the hell did you end up there again?!”

—Two hours earlier.

After wrapping up Er’Gou’s case, Huangfu Qiang got lucky and landed a new job—an extramarital affair investigation.

A rich woman suspected her husband was keeping a mistress. If they could capture solid evidence, she could strip the man of everything in the divorce. The reward was a hefty 100,000 yuan.

Naturally, an opportunity like this had to be shared with his brothers in arms.

So the Xicheng District’s Express Debt Collection Team group was active again.

“Brothers brothers, the opportunity to get rich has arrived ah!”

Zhong Weishi was firm. “I’m not going, I’m not going. I’ve decided to live an honest life. Don’t drag me into any more get-rich-quick schemes.”

“No, bro, this time it’s different—love triangles, scandals… Damn ya, this rich lady is loaded. She directly dumped me a 10,000 yuan deposit.”

Zhong Weishi’s eyes flickered. “That much?”

Qiangzi held down the voice recording button and spitefully recounted the entire story in the group chat.

It was a continuous stream of ten or so 59-second voice messages, leaving everyone speechless.

“That rich woman said she saw the chat records—he’s been flirting with some woman constantly. It’s absolutely true. The only thing missing are pictures for evidence.”

After their previous overnight trip to the police station, Zhong Weishi remained rational this time. “The key is, how do we get a photo? Are you planning to storm into his house? Have you lost your mind? Did you forget what Old Li told us?”

“This time, we’re doing a good deed! It’s an affair! Breaking up a couple is breaking up a couple,” Qiangzi spent nearly half an hour analyzing his views on marriage and love from every possible angle. “In short, I think, from a moral standpoint, we have to help her.”

A’Wei: “Cheating? What kind of man is he? We have to kill him!”

Da Fei: “I agree.”

Zhong Weishi got straight to the point. “How much is she paying you?”

Qiangzi sent a string of numbers.

Zhong Weishi’s eyes widened so much that he felt like he didn’t need to use his hand to keep his eyeballs, they were about to pop to the ground.

After a long silence, the man who had just been chanting, “I’m not going, don’t drag me into any get-rich-quick schemes,” suddenly spoke in a deep voice: “That dog man’s behavior is outrageous. If I don’t get photographic evidence, I’ll spell my name backward!”

Qiangzi and A’Wei took turns following the dog man for several days before finally catching him wrapping his arm around a young woman and entering a high-end hotel.

Zhong Weishi, having watched too many TVB dramas,⁴*TVB drama produced by Television Broadcasts Limited (TVB), a Hong Kong-based television broadcasting company. teamed up with A’Wei to steal a hotel staff uniform and service cart before heading over to knock on the door.

When they entered under the guise of delivering desserts, the woman was already lying on the bed in a bathrobe.

Wealth is obtained from taking risks!

The opportunity was right in front of them!

The difference between TV dramas and reality was that, in dramas, the protagonist could stealthily place a hidden camera in a spot unnoticed by the villain. In reality, however, shaky hands led to immediate suspicion.

The moment the girl called out to him, Zhong Weishi trembled in fright, and the camera fell straight to the floor.

All in all it was quite a grueling battle.

It was so close to dying on the spot.

Now, clutching his swollen cheek from the slap he’d received, Zhong Weishi skipped over the brutal beating he had endured and barely held back tears as he explained, “Old Li—Old Li said that since he knows me, he’s going to keep me locked up a few extra days.”

Gu Lizhou really didn’t hold back and laughed so hard that his shoulders shook. “Hahahahahahahaha—”

“You’re laughing?!” Zhong Weishi roared. “Are you even my bro!”

Gu Lizhou made no effort to stop. “Well, guess you’ll be staying a few more days. Who told you to go around causing trouble?”

“I—I, I really know I was wrong. I still want to film… But they said I have to pay a fine before they’ll let me out.”

Realizing that his record might soon be marked with an unforgettable stain, Zhong Weishi grew anxious, his eyes reddening. His voice softened, “I don’t know who else to call. Just help me out this once, for the sake of our brotherhood. Come pay the fine for me—I’ll write you an IOU as soon as I get out. I swear I’ll pay you back!”

Money wasn’t an issue, but Gu Lizhou raised an eyebrow and asked, “What’s in it for me?”

“What do you want? Whatever I can give, I’ll give you.” Zhong Weishi pouted. “I’ll even wash your underwear if I have to. Please, just get over here. Qiangzi and the others were all picked up by their parents—only I’m left. The police uncles are about to get off work.”

It was a completely normal plea, but when it reached that old beast’s ears, for some reason, he couldn’t help but picture a little kid crouching at a kindergarten entrance, drawing circles on the ground.

“All the other kids were picked up by their parents… I’m the only one left.”

Gu Lizhou was amused by his own imagination and reassured him, “No rush, there are still officers on duty anyway.”

His voice carried a relaxed tone, his brows slightly raised in amusement. Transmitted through the wireless call, his words sounded more like he was gloating.

“If you don’t want to come, forget it. I’m hanging up.” Zhong Weishi let out a heavy snort.

“Don’t hang up.”

“What?” Zhong Weishi’s tone was icy, but deep down, he was smug—he knew Gu Lizhou wouldn’t have the heart to leave him stranded.

Gu Lizhou curled the corner of his lips. “Call me Daddy.”

“Huh?” Zhong Weishi was stunned.

Holding a cigarette between his fingers, Gu Lizhou grinned wickedly. “Call me Daddy, and I’ll come get you right now.”

Gu Lizhou couldn’t remember when he had fallen asleep, but before he even opened his eyes the next morning, he could already feel the blazing heat from outside the window.

Hot.

His entire body was sticky and uncomfortable to the point of misery, and even his breathing felt labored.

He looked up to find the air conditioner turned off.

Heartless little beast!

He even covered him with a blanket last night!

“Zhong Weishi!—” he shouted, only to find that no one was in the room.

Gu Lizhou fumbled for the remote control and pressed the switch button.

It didn’t start.

It was only after pressing the overhead light switch again that he was sure it that the power was out.

Didn’t pay the utility bill?

That was the first thought that popped into his head.

It was only seven o’clock.

Gu Lizhou sighed, shaking the tattered blanket dr4p3d over him. Zhong Weishi’s sleeping habits were terrible.

Last night, he had one leg thrown over Gu Lizhou’s waist, then rolled over to straddle him, and later, he just sprawled out completely, draping his legs over Gu Lizhou’s chest.

Utterly shameless.

At that time he was only one solid iron kitchen knife away from becoming a murderer.

In short, the night had left him with an aching waist and an utterly exhausted body, filled with regret.

The room was hot and stuffy. Gu Lizhou stretched lazily and planned to head back to Room 303 to catch up on sleep. That’s when he noticed a sticky note stuck to the front door.

“I’m off to the film crew. The key is on the table. If you go out, help me lock the door with a couple of extra turns. I’ll grab it from you later.”

Muttering “Even a thief wouldn’t bother coming here,” Gu Lizhou chuckled as he locked the door for him.

As soon as he stepped out, he saw the dirty clothes he had changed out of last night fluttering on the balcony in the breeze.

Including. His. Underwear.

If he remembered correctly, there was no such thing as a washing machine in that apartment…

The little beast washed it by hand?

So filial?

When Gu Lizhou returned to Room 303, he found out that the power outage was caused by an issue with the community’s circuit breaker. The electricity had been cut off for the entire complex around six in the morning, and workers were urgently repairing it.

“Have you eaten breakfast?” Cao Zhiheng asked, waving a large palm-leaf fan.

Meng Jingshi was sitting at the dining table, sipping soybean milk. When she saw Gu Lizhou sit down, she gave a shy smile and lowered her head.

Meeting her boyfriend’s friend for the first time, only to make him sleep in the next room, made her feel quite embarrassed.

Gu Lizhou yawned, poured himself half a glass of cold water, and asked, “Not yet. Got any more?”

“Nope. I thought you ate with your little brother, so I didn’t buy anything,” Cao Zhiheng said.

“Then why the hell did you asked, my ass.”

After finding his power bank, Gu Lizhou sent a message to Zhong Weishi.

-Did you wash my clothes?

-Probably that female ghost washed them for you last night.

Gu Lizhou chuckled to himself as he stared at his phone.

-Thanks.

-Kowtow to the female ghost.

“Staring at your pants. What are you looking at your crotch for?” Cao Zhiheng rapped the table, interrupting him. “I’m going to Jing Jing’s place for dinner tonight. I probably won’t be back until late. You’re on your own for dinner.”

“Yo,” Gu Lizhou raised an eyebrow. “Planning to meet the in-laws ah?”

“Yes ah,” Cao Zhiheng said, crossing his legs. “What kind of gift do you think I should bring for a first meeting with the in-laws ah…”

Gu Lizhou gave mocking laugh. “How would I know? I don’t have in-laws.”

Cao Zhiheng waved dismissively. “Forget it. Asking you is pointless. A solo since birth like you has no right to join this discussion.”

“He’s never been in a relationship ah?” Meng Jingshi’s eyes widened. She had always assumed that someone like Gu Lizhou, with his school-heartthrob-level looks, must be a seasoned player in the dating scene, only choosing to enjoy single life after growing tired of romance.

“Yes ah, we’ve all suspected he’s gay,” Cao Zhiheng joked with a grin.

Gu Lizhou raised his glass, pretending to throw it at him, and Cao Zhiheng quickly ducked behind his girlfriend, his smile mischievous.

“With your looks, finding a partner should be easy ah. Do you have an ideal type? Or any specific requirements for a girl?” Meng Jingshi asked.

Gu Li Zhou had no concept of the word “ideal type”.

Back in high school, some classmates had invited him out for a group meal and subtly hinted that a girl liked him. But at the time, he wasn’t interested in the slightest and responded bluntly with, “You’d better focus on your studies.” Unexpectedly, the girl burst into tears on the spot.

Gu Lizhou was confused.

It was only later that he learned the girl thought he was mocking her for having poor grades, which had made her cry in anger.

The next evening during self-study, the girl’s best friend cornered him in the classroom and, in front of the entire class, furiously scolded him: “Do you think you’re so great just because your grades are good? What’s so amazing about you? Do you even know she folded 999 paper cranes for you ah!…”

From that moment on, Gu Lizhou felt that girls were an incomprehensible species, and he never entertained the idea of dating throughout his three years in high school.

When he got to university, he became obsessed with writing, leaving him even less time to think about romance.

By the time he realized it, he had already missed the ambiguity crushes of adolescence and skipped straight to the restrained and rational approach adults have toward love.

And this was a kind of loss that lasted a lifetime.

He no longer had the desire to fall in love.

Maybe, just like the lyrics in that Eason Chan song, the person meant for him had been born in a different country, in a different year, before he was even born.

Maybe they had missed each other by a hundred years—a whole century.

Maybe that person was living on the same land as him, but due to various circumstances, they would never meet in this lifetime.

He believed in true love, but also knew that not everyone was lucky.

It’s possible to meet the right person at the right time.

Blind dates, marriage, children…

He knew that this was something he would inevitably have to face and experience, but there was an inexplicable resistance in him.

It was probably because he had been single for so long that he didn’t want to change his current, free lifestyle.

Meng Jingshi glanced up and continued, “I have a younger cousin who’s two years younger than me. She’s never been in a relationship either. Do you want me to introduce you two?”

Before Gu Lizhou could open his mouth to decline, Cao Zhiheng had already made the decision for him. “Sure ah, sure ah. What does she look like ah? Let me see.”

“What are you getting all worked up about?” Meng Jingshi shot him a look.

Cao Zhiheng: “I’m just helping him out… It’s his first time, so he’s inexperienced. Look at me—my judgment is top-notch.”

Meng Jingshi opened her friend’s social media and handed her phone to him. “Here, isn’t she pretty? She works for a state-owned enterprise now. Her dad’s a university professor, and her mom’s a bank client manager. Their family’s well-off, and she’s quiet, well-mannered, and cultured.”

“Yo, what a coincidence? Old Gu’s dad is a university professor too. This girl seems like a good match ah…” Cao Zhiheng glanced at his girlfriend and quickly added, “But no one’s better than you.”

At first glance, Gu Lizhou knew the girl wasn’t his type, but since she was Meng Jingshi’s cousin, he couldn’t reject her outright. Instead, he asked tactfully, “Where’s she from ah?”

“She’s from Yucheng ya. Lives in the city center—only half an hour by subway,” Meng Jingshi enthusiastically pitched.

Gu Lizhou put on a regretful expression. “What a pity. I live in City B and am just here for a trip.”

Cao Zhiheng, catching Gu Lizhou’s subtle signal, quickly chimed in, “Long-distance relationships are tough. Even figuring out where to spend New Year’s becomes a hassle. We can’t let your cousin go through that.”

Meng Jingshi pouted. “Aiya, travel is so convenient nowadays. Flying back and forth is quick ah. Besides, after getting married, you can just move over—what’s the big deal?”

Gu Lizhou: “I prefer someone a bit livelier since I have a pretty dull personality. If I end up with someone who doesn’t like to talk, we won’t have much to chat about ah.”

“Livelier? We’ve got that ah! Otherwise, look at this one… a kindergarten teacher and super outgoing.”

“…”

“Not satisfied ah? Okay, so she’s a bit on the heavier side, but she’s really popular, easygoing, and great to be around.”

Gu Lizhou thought to himself: A bit on the heavier side? This girl looks like she weighs more than he does.

Would he even be able to carry her on their wedding day?

Meng Jingshi caught on to what he was implying. “Otherwise, why don’t you tell me your type, and I’ll check with my girl friends for you?”

“I don’t really have any concept of this stuff. When you truly like someone, all those rules and conditions don’t matter. Even if it’s a guy, I’d chase him down.”

Cao Zhiheng choked on his soy milk, coughing for a long while.

Gu Lizhou fiddled with the keychain on the table. “I was just giving an example. Don’t overthink it. Besides, you’re not my type.”

Cao Zhiheng squinted and slowed his speech. “Wait a second… First, you say you don’t have a type, and then you say someone’s not your type. That’s contradictory ah, Old Gu.”

Gu Lizhou froze.

“Tsk tsk tsk,” Cao Zhiheng wagged his index finger, “Something’s off. You definitely have a type.”

Irritated by his persistence, Gu Lizhou said, “I like myself. Every time I look in the mirror, I wish I could marry myself. Okay?”

“…”

After breakfast, Cao Zhiheng dropped his girlfriend off at work. When he got home, the power was back on.

Gu Lizhou was sprawled on the sofa, scrolling through his phone.

“When are you going to roll back ah?” Cao Zhiheng asked.

“Why? You called me over when you were lonely and bored. Now that things are steady with your girlfriend, I’m suddenly in the way?” Gu Lizhou raised an eyebrow.

“No.” Cao Zhiheng laughed and slapped his leg. “Do I seem like that kind of person?”

Gu Lizhou: “I think so.”

Cao Zhiheng’s smile vanished. “So, when are you rolling?”

“I’ll pack up right now.”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Cao Zhiheng grabbed him. “I’m joking. Stay as long as you want. It’s fine. Worst case, when my girlfriend comes over, you can squeeze in with the kid again.”

“Forget it.” Gu Lizhou said, letting out another yawn. “I barely got three or four hours of sleep last night. I’m so sleepy. He’s like a tiny, immovable tractor, puttering away. I flipped him over multiple times, and he still didn’t wake up. Honestly, it’s unbelievable. I don’t even know what he was born as, but he sure knows how to sleep. Even when I was a student, I couldn’t sleep as much as he does.”

Despite his complaints, the smile in Gu Lizhou’s eyes was impossible to hide.

Cao Zhiheng threw his head back and laughed. “Really? Does he snore too?”

Gu Lizhou: “He’s better than you. You’re not snoring; you’re setting off fireworks.”

The two almost fought on the sofa.

Jokes and banter aside, Gu Lizhou knew he couldn’t keep crashing at someone else’s place forever. It was disrupting their relationship too much.

Just a couple of days ago, his college roommate Cheng Hang had reached out, asking when he’d return to B City—there was something he needed help with.

Gu Lizhou had majored in computer science in college, initially aiming to join a software company as an engineer after graduation. Unexpectedly, during those four years, he developed a writing software equipped with mind-mapping features.

Cheng Hang, on the other hand, was exceptionally talented and his family has a mine. After graduation, he went straight into starting his own gaming company. Several of the games developed by his team consistently ranked on the popular charts of app stores.

This time, they were preparing to develop an adventure-puzzle mobile game where players could explore dozens of unique storylines.

The planning team would travel the world to conduct on-site research, recreating authentic scenes to give players a magical experience of adventuring amidst breathtaking landscapes.

The task Cheng Hang wanted to assign to Gu Lizhou was to write the main storylines for the various scenarios.

Although the workload would be massive, it was one of the few jobs that truly interested him.

Just as he was booking his flight online, a message from Zhong Weishi popped up.

-It’s my birthday tomorrow. Want to grab barbecue in the evening?

Before Gu Lizhou could finish reading, Zhong Weishi’s typing indicator appeared again.

-If you’re not into barbecue, we can eat something else. I love everything anyway [showing teeth] [showing teeth].

Zhong Weishi’s WeChat profile picture was a Q¹Chibi. version of Luffy munching on a drumstick. Every time Gu Lizhou saw that avatar, he couldn’t help but picture Zhong Weishi’s cheerful smile.

A smiling face that was hard to refuse.

The unpaid flight ticket order was set to cancel automatically in 19 minutes.

Gu Lizhou’s fingers hovered indecisively over the input box for a long time.

Friendship between adults is peculiar. Despite having phones and WeChat, despite occasionally thinking of one another, they rarely take the initiative to reach out.

It’s the fear of disturbing the other person’s life, the dread of awkward silences in a conversation.

He knew his relationship with Zhong Weishi fell into that category—if they parted ways, they’d likely lose touch entirely.

Once he left, who knew when he’d return to Yucheng again? And who knew where that cheerful fountain of joy would end up?

Shooting, becoming famous, moving away…?

Gu Lizhou thought the phrase “parting never to meet again” could easily rank among the most heart-wrenching idioms ever.

[Useless Yet Awake]: Ok

[Lunatic]: Will there be a gift?

[Useless Yet Awake]: You’re so shameless. Who just outright asks for a gift like that?

[Lunatic]: Why do you think I told you a day in advance? I was afraid you’d show up empty-handed and feel embarrassed. Qiangzi and the others already have their gifts ready.

Gu Lizhou chuckled at his phone.

-What do you want? I’ll buy it for you.

-How boring is that, I like the feeling of surprise when I open the gifts!!! You mustn’t tell me!

-Dream on. I’m coming empty-handed for a free meal.

-Then I’ll rip your face off and use it as a rag.

A dialog box popped up on the web page.

Payment timeout. Your flight ticket order has been automatically canceled.

“What song does everyone want to hear today?” Da Fei even turned on a voice changer during the live broadcast. The sugary tone made Gu Lizhou shudder.

Rows of comments flew by rapidly on the screen:

一So beautiful today!

一Goddess, Goddess, Goddess!

Da Fei looked at the comments and smiled more bashfully than Meng Jingshi from next door.

Gu Lizhou felt as if his throat was being choked and couldn’t utter a word.

His three world views collapsed.

一Da Fei, you’re even prettier today!

一Why are you so late today?

Da Fei explained, “The shop was busy. I worked overtime until after 10 p.m., then came home, took a shower, and changed into fresh clothes.”

一Get some rest, baby.

一Take care of your voice. You’re a little hoarse.

“What does he do for a living ah?” Gu Lizhou asked.

“En? I haven’t mentioned it?” Zhong Weishi said. “Da Fei is the Chief Stylist at ‘Legendary Hair Salon’ on Yueshan Street.”

Zhong Weishi pointed to his own hair. “See this? He cut it for me. A wash, cut, and blow-dry—all for just 15 yuan. Not much different from the 3,600 you spent on yours, right? Da Fei graduated from a professional hairdressing academy and has unlimited potential. Next time, just mention his name—Fly, that’s Da Fei. He’ll definitely give you a discount.”

Zhong Weishi’s hair wasn’t permed or dyed, just a simple cut, barely considered a style. But this unremarkable hairstyle, paired with his outstandingly handsome face, would easily make him the most handsome guy on campus.

Gu Lizhou was slightly tempted. He thought that getting the same campus-heartthrob haircut might take years off his age. So he asked, “How much extra for care treatments?”

“Ca-care treatments?” Zhong Weishi, whose vocabulary didn’t even include those two words, scratched his cheek and asked, “What exactly do you want to take care of?”

Gu Lizhou: “… Forget it.”

Just then, a user with the ID “The Strongest on Earth” sent a virtual airplane, worth 999 yuan.

At the top of the screen, a dazzling special effect of a fighter jet flying across appeared.

[The Strongest on Earth]: How about a song <Romance in the Rain>.

The boldness, the tone, the song request—it perfectly embodied the image of a deep love and domineering CEO.

Da Fei clasped his hands together in front of the camera, smiling so hard he looked like a blooming flower. “Thank you, The Strongest on Earth, for the airplane. Thank you, thank you, thank you…”

The joy of the harvest rushed out of the screen.

Gu Lizhou, having never watched a live broadcast before, didn’t understand how much these gifts were worth. But judging from the repeated “thank yous” and the anchor’s radiant smile, he could tell it was a big deal—completely different from the lukewarm reaction earlier when someone with an “F” in their name sent a gift.

Soon after, another user named “Oops, That’s That What It Feels Like” sent an aircraft carrier.

The aircraft carrier was the most expensive gift on the platform, worth 1,314 RMB. Its special effect featured Grandpa Mao falling and colorful fireworks that lasted for several seconds.

Just the special effect alone had to be worth at least ten yuan!

Gu Lizhou clicked his tongue twice. He felt that for the first time, he was out of touch with modern trends. He couldn’t understand what young people these days were thinking—staying up late watching stuff like this. What was the appeal?

“fvck! Da Fei’s hit the jackpot ah! He’s got die-hard fans now!” Zhong Weishi exclaimed, slapping his thigh.

Gu Lizhou was startled by his sudden movement, “How much can he even make from singing all night? Enough to buy a bowl of noodles?”

Zhong Weishi’s eyes widened like little brass bells. Once again, he felt the enormous generational gap between himself and the elderly.

‘The Strongest on Earth’ sent an aircraft carrier.

‘Oops, That’s That What It Feels Like’ sent out two aircraft carriers.

‘The Strongest on Earth’ sent three aircraft carriers.

‘Oops, That’s That What It Feels Like’ sent four aircraft carriers.

…

Zhong Weishi was completely dumbfounded.

Not only was he stunned, but Da Fei was also at a loss for words.

The Strongest on Earth was actually Qiangzi’s alternate account. Many of the IDs in the live broadcast room were people Qiangzi had invited as plants to create an illusion of popularity and success—like how a small roadside stall crowded with people draws curious bystanders to stop and check it out.

With tens of thousands of yuan coming in, the amount was staggering. However, the platform would take a 50% cut from the anchor’s tips as a handling fee.

This wave of operation is a bit hard to understand.

Da Fei, worried that Qiangzi wouldn’t be able to handle the hefty handling fees, was so anxious that his Taiwanese accent slipped out. “Stop sending gifts already, okay lah!”

In Zhong Weishi’s memory, ‘Oops, That’s That What It Feels Like’ had been to the livestream several times before. It was evident that this user now viewed ‘The Strongest on Earth’ as a love rival, furiously competing by sending more gifts.

And Qiangzi, that idiot, was actually willing to splurge despite the exorbitant fees. Was this what they meant by “you can’t catch the wolf without risking the child”?

The user who sent the most gifts would earn the glorious right to request a song.

[Oops, That’s That What It Feels Like]: I want to hear you sing <Love You>.

[The Strongest on Earth]: <Lull Me to Sleep> <Lull Me to Sleep> <Lull Me to Sleep>!!!

Both of them wanted to win the heart of the ‘beauty’, turning the whole scene into a dog blood show. Gu Lizhou was watching, utterly dumbstruck.

“Does that guy spamming gifts know that Da Fei is a man?”

“Know ah. Da Fei’s whole gimmick is cross-dressing for his live broadcast.”

“Then why is he still…” Gu Lizhou trailed off, unsure how to even comment.

“You don’t get it! They’re into this kind of thing,” Zhong Weishi said, pointing at the leaderboard. “See here? There’s a fan ranking. You can see how much each person has tipped. It’s all about gaining favor.”

Gu Lizhou really didn’t understand.

He didn’t get the taste of today’s younger generation, nor could he grasp the point of climbing a leaderboard.

Was it to get the anchor’s attention?

But at the end of the day, he was still a man ah! What was the point of gaining his favor ah! To date him!

Mobile Hotspot felt tired, he pulled the blanket over himself and closed his eyes.

Zhong Weishi put on his headphones and continued watching the live broadcast.

Recently, Da Fei’s talent shows had become increasingly diverse, even including square dancing, and the live broadcast room was in a frenzy.

This was a happy time that belonged to the otakus.

“Hey, do you think if I streamed myself doing fancy flips, will anyone watch?” Zhong Weishi asked.

“Aside from me, your captive audience, probably no one,” Gu Lizhou replied, his voice muffled and hoarse from beneath the blanket.

Zhong Weishi gave him a look. “Tch.”

Half an hour later, Gu Lizhou’s phone died and shut off automatically.

With no mobile hotspot to rely on, Zhong Weishi had no choice but to exit the live broadcast. He rolled over, pulled up his little blanket, and fell fast asleep within five minutes.

The old man beside him, who had spent over half an hour trying and failing to fall asleep, listened to the faint snoring and sank once again into deep contemplation about life and society.

Is the live broadcast platform considered a profitable industry? What kind of operations team would it take to develop such an app? Could such a team be used for money laundering?

What about minors using their parents’ phones to send tips? Should the platform bear some responsibility?

When Da Fei meets viewers in person, would he wear men’s or women’s clothing?

Is ‘Oops, That’s That What It Feels Like’ male or female?

What’s the purpose of exchanging WeChat? To chat? Meet up? Hook up? Or start a relationship?

And what if Da Fei encounters an organ-harvesting maniac? Would he have time to call for help?

Police receive a report of a body discovered in an old apartment building. During the autopsy, the coroner finds that the female victim is actually a man!

Following this sudden spark of inspiration, Gu Lizhou began constructing character profiles, frameworks, main plotlines, subplots, and foreshadowing, weaving in elements of friendship, family, love, justice, betrayal, and the complexity of human nature…

It could be a dark revenge drama. The protagonist could be a serial killer burdened by national and personal grievances, targeting the son of a corrupt government official who once caused him to lose his comrades. This could unravel a massive drug trafficking case…

Or, taking another perspective, if the protagonist were an undercover agent.. it could be a suspenseful detective story about justice and brotherhood.

The more he thought about it, the more hyperactive he became; and the harder it was to fall asleep.

In the latter half of the night, Zhong Weishi was still dreaming. Half-asleep, he felt a bit chilly, so he turned over, curling up like a little puppy in a hurry to drink milk. He burrowed toward the nearest warm spot.

After his forehead hit something, he quieted down and continued to dream.

Gu Li Zhou’s eyes widened in the darkness.

When he felt Zhong Weishi start to roll over, he instinctively backed away, pressing his back completely against the wall. But now, his chest was met with a warm, fuzzy head, exhaling hot breath against him. He felt like the filling in a sandwich.

“Ugh.” Gu Lizhou rolled his eyes at the ceiling..

The rag Zhong Weishi had tossed to him was flimsy, with a wide neckline. Any slight movement caused soft strands of hair to brush against his skin.

The sensation of touching the same thing with your palm versus your chest was completely different.

His weathered palms could only register softness, but his chest felt itchy and tingly, like a jolt of electricity.

Especially when Zhong Weishi raised his arm and dr4p3d it over his thigh—Gu Lizhou almost jumped straight out of bed.

What’s wrong with this guy!

What are you doing on a hot day like this!

Dreaming of being a koala!

The room was so quiet that the only sound was the steady rhythm of a certain someone’s breathing.

Gu Lizhou initially tried to endure it, hoping Zhong Weishi would eventually roll over on his own. But he didn’t. Instead, the warm breath on Gu Lizhou’s chest only made the itchiness and discomfort worse.

A sticky feeling.

How could anyone sleep like this?

Gu Lizhou grabbed Zhong Weishi’s arm with one hand, pressed his shoulder with the other, and gave him a firm push forward.

Zhong Weishi rolled half a turn.

Gu Lizhou was certain this move would wake him up, so he immediately closed his eyes and pretended to be dead.

Unexpectedly, not only did Zhong Weishi not wake up, but he lay in 大 shape for less than half a minute before soft snores started up again.

Gu Lizhou: “…”

One of Gu Lizhou’s legs swung over Zhong Weishi as he reached for the phone on the nightstand.

Zhong Weishi hadn’t changed his password, so after unlocking the phone, Gu Lizhou prepared to record the snores as a ringtone.

The faint light from the phone screen outlined a shallow silhouette in the dark.

Because he didn’t sleep in the right position on the pillow, Zhong Weishi’s head was slightly tilted back, his mouth half-open.

A childish, defenseless sleeper.

Gu Lizhou stared for a moment, then couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Click.” The sound of a shutter echoed, accompanied by the flash, lighting up the quiet room like a bolt of lightning. Gu Lizhou froze, his hair standing on end. He hurriedly clutched his phone and shoved it under the blanket.

The same brat who had repeatedly warned before bed, “I’m a light sleeper, don’t toss and turn, or you’ll wake me up,” hadn’t stopped snoring for a second.

What kind of sleep state was this!

Gu Lizhou felt genuine envy deep in his heart.

It was 3:30 a.m.

Mobile hotspot still couldn’t sleep.

The air conditioner in the room was old and lacked a thermostat function. When it was on, it felt too cold; when it was off, it became too hot. Occasionally, the sound of passing cars could be heard from outside.

For someone with chronic insomnia, even breathing sounds could be a disturbance, let alone someone fidgeting nearby.

Normally, Gu Lizhou would wear earplugs or listen to sleep-aid music. But tonight, neither option was available, so he lay still, letting his thoughts wander aimlessly.

At some point, the blanket Zhong Weishi had wrapped himself in slid to the floor. Combined with his tossing and turning, his stomach was now exposed.

Gu Lizhou glanced over, adjusted the air conditioner two degrees warmer, pulled his own blanket over Zhong Weishi’s flat stomach, and gave it a gentle pat.

Gu Lizhou was stunned for a few seconds before pounding the edge of the bed twice in a frenzy, letting out a crazed roar. He then unleashed another barrage of punches on the bed, his grin wicked and unrestrained. It was the kind of smile someone might have after being cheated on by his girlfriend, only to win the lottery jackpot and have their ex-girlfriend crawling back—a chaotic mix of emotions erupting into uncontainable joy.

There was only one word for his feelings: Ecstatic!

To others, though, he looked completely insane.

Zhong Weishi immediately realized this wasn’t good—he’d overdone it and driven the guy to madness. What could be done now?

Hurriedly, he tried to console Gu Lizhou as he stammered, “B-b-but! But maybe he’s just some nasty man—yes, exactly, a foot-scratching big man. God is fair. No way he’d give someone both talent and looks…”

“Hahahahahahahahahaha-”¹I went and counted it lmao. He erupted into maniacal laughter.

Seeing Gu Lizhou spiraling further into madness, Zhong Weishi felt his heart clench in fear. In desperation, he even threw away his pride and made himself the example. “Look at me for example. I’m handsome, young, full of life—but not exactly bright…”

Gu Lizhou threw his head back and laughed recklessly, far more unrestrained than on that day at the square dance.

He had a belly full of emotions he wanted to vent.

He wanted Zhong Weishi to know that the stubborn piece of scrap metal in his eyes was actually his long-cherished white moonlight. He wanted to see Zhong Weishi kneeling under his boxers with a face full of adoration. But rationality told him this wasn’t the time—something even more entertaining lay ahead.

It took quite a while before he managed to calm down. Gu Lizhou’s heart was racing, and he couldn’t stop the corners of his mouth from lifting. No matter how he looked at the little bastard in front of him, he found him utterly adorable.

He couldn’t even help but raise his hand and ruffle this silly ass’ head.

Zhong Weishi’s words had struck right at the core of his confidence.

There was only one Wan Lizhou in the world. So even if he disappeared for five years, fifteen, or fifty years, someone would still remember him.

He had to admit—the little thing had good taste.

“What are you doing ah?” Zhong Weishi’s hair was already thick, and now it exploded from all the ruffling.

Unexpectedly, Gu Lizhou tousled his hair even more aggressively and even flicked his nose, calling him a little bastard.

“Aiya-” Zhong Weishi batted Gu Lizhou’s arm away with a disgusted face. “What’s wrong with you? One minute you’re upset, the next you’re overjoyed. Split personality ah?”

“En.” Gu Lizhou was in the middle of his excitement, completely unable to hear what he was saying. He stared at Zhong Weishi like he was a priceless treasure. “Tell me more about that great god.”

When Zhong Weishi came to know about the author Wan Lizhou, it was already after he had ceased writing. He had only skimmed the author’s profile, followed his Weibo, and remained oblivious to the disputes between him and Jiu Mangxing, as well as the much-publicized incident involving the harassment of a female fan back in the day.

“He said until we meet again, but it’s been more than five years with no news at all. Guess he’s probably done writing for good,” Zhong Weishi sighed softly.

The excited and exuberant smile on Gu Lizhou’s face gradually faded.

“What a pity. I’ve read lots of books in that genre, but it’s rare to find an author whose every work resonates with you. His writing style is so unique, something many people can’t imitate. Those explorations of humanity, interests, fate, and emotions all carry faint traces of real life. The plots might be fantastical, yet they make people feel so authentic. Opening one of his books is like stepping into a flawlessly constructed illusion, and you hesitate to leave. Reading his work gives you strength, the kind that says even when life has you beaten down, you must never give up. I imagine the author must be just as dynamic and resilient as his protagonists—confident, optimistic, and broad-minded!”

Hearing these words warmed Gu Lizhou’s heart. He pursed his lips and humbly muttered, “He’s not as great as you’re making him out to be.”

“Shut up! You’re not allowed to insult my idol.” Zhong Weishi glared at him. “You didn’t even read it to know shit.”

“…” Gu Lizhou wanted to laugh but didn’t dare to.

“In short, I think he must be super carefree and charismatic,” Zhong Weishi exclaimed. “Let me show you his handwriting! They say handwriting reflects the person. I just know he’s as dashing as the way he writes.”

“But didn’t you just call him a foot-scratching big man?” Gu Lizhou teased.

“You believe that kind of lie?” Zhong Weishi clicked on Weibo and handed over one of Wan Lizhou’s rare handwritten notes. “Look at this!”

After five years, Gu Lizhou only felt that the words he left behind long ago were sour and embarrassingly sappy, like revisiting the melodramatic entries from his student days QQ Space account.

So much so that he wanted to delete his Weibo!!!

The die-hard fan even read the words aloud with deep emotion: “I believe in destiny, and I also believe that destiny is something you carve out for yourself step by step. Listen to that! Such profound yet incomprehensible wisdom—absolutely iconic!”

“What the hell.” Gu Lizhou smiled so hard his eyes curved into crescents. “So, if you ever get the chance to meet him in person, what would you say to him?”

“Meet him in person ah…”

Regardless of gender, people’s eyes always sparkled like a sea of tiny stars when they spoke about their idols.

Zhong Weishi rested his chin on his hand, daydreaming like a lovestruck teenager. “I’m sure I’d shake his hand to get some good luck ah! Then, I’d ask for an autograph!”

Gu Li Zhou raised an eyebrow, “That’s it?”

Zhong Weishi’s eyes rolled. “Well, if it’s just the two of us, I might ask for a hug, too. So we can get more luck.”

“…” So, this guy’s been plotting all day to leech off his good luck?

Is this how humans behave?

Gu Lizhou struck a pose like a drunk imperial concubine, staring at him. “Don’t you have anything you actually want to say to him?”

Zhong Weishi hugged a pillow, giggling foolishly. “Wan Lizhou-ge, I’m your fan. Can I add you on WeChat ah…”

Gu Li Zhou: “How about a swimming fitness to understand?

“Ugh!” Zhong Weishi rolled his eyes.

“Look at you with your low ambitions,” Gu Lizhou smiled. Then he asked, “Okay, let’s say you add him. What then?”

“Go through his Moments ah! See what the god is up to on a daily basis, maybe even sell some of his insider news for a quick buck.” Zhong Weishi slapped his thigh. “Wait, let me redo my answer ah. One autograph isn’t enough—I’ll demand a thousand! No, no, no, ten thousand!”

Gu Li Zhou: “…” This is not a fan, but a vampire.

Zhong Weishi casually scrolled through the latest comments under Wan Lizhou’s Weibo. Almost all were begging for his return to writing.

“If he makes a comeback, the entire Xinghe Century would be shaken to its core.”

Gu Li Zhou craned his neck full of pride.

That’s how you talk!

Worthy of being his fan!

“Aren’t you going to ask him why he stopped writing?”

“Why else ah,” Zhong Weishi shrugged, ”he’s too old to write.”

Gu Li Zhou’s throat tightened.

His emotions felt just like the plot twists in his novels—full of bizarre ups and downs.

Up, down, up, down, and then plummeting straight down…

He clutched the bedsheet and blanket beneath him tightly, gritting his teeth, barely suppressing the urge to punt Zhong Weishi from the 3rd floor all the way to the 18th underground level.

“Ah, ah, ah. It’s over, it’s over, it’s over. It’s all your fault.” Zhong Weishi slapped the mattress several times in a row, ”I’m going to miss the live broadcast.”

Gu Lizhou froze, “What live broadcast?”

“Da Fei’s live broadcast ah! I’ve gotta hop on and give him some clout!” Zhong Weishi said, clicking into an app.

Gu Li Zhou raised his hand and looked at his watch.

A quarter past twelve.

A look of contempt, “At this hour, is it a proper live broadcast?”

–

“Thank you, ‘A Single Red Apricot Leans Over The Wall,’ for the Rainbow Candy gift… ah, and thanks to ‘This Is Not a Ride To The Grove’’ for the Lucky Bell gift.”

Da Fei’s “sweet” voice came out from the phone.

Gu Li Zhou’s handsome features became distorted due to the impactful image and explicit barrage on the screen.

The screen showed a “little girl” with meticulously applied makeup, sporting air bangs, twin pigtails, and a blue-and-white sailor outfit adorned with a delicate bow at the center of the top.

Perched on their head was a pair of fluffy pink-and-white bunny ears. Judging from the background, the live broadcast was taking place in a bedroom filled with stuffed animals, complete with lace-trimmed bed covers.

In short, the scene embodied two words: dreamy and provocative.

Big Fei, after hearing about Er’Gou dropping 300,000 yuan on a streamer, was struck by inspiration. Particularly memorable was the police officer’s statement: “Little girl, did they bully you just now? If they did, you can tell us.” He was greatly inspired.

He felt that this aspect of the male market could be properly developed to make a little money.

So in the dead of night, he did a live broadcast.

“It’s a proper livestream. Absolutely decent. He never takes his clothes off during the stream,” Zhong Weishi assured while typing in a comment.

Gu Lizhou: “…”

Upstairs, the Wi-Fi was frustratingly slow, buffering every two seconds and freezing for a full minute. The comment wouldn’t even send.

Zhong Weishi elbowed the person next to him. “Got any mobile data? Share it with me; the upstairs internet’s too slow.”

Gu Lizhou’s eyes widened. “What do you take me for ah?”

“Mobile hotspot.” Zhong Weishi didn’t think twice.

“…” Gu Lizhou didn’t hold back, either. “No way. Why don’t you use your own data?”

Zhong Weishi, the poster child of modern-day poverty, had less than 10 yuan in phone credit. Even in the era of 4G, he worries about running out of data every month.

“If I use any more, I’ll go over my limit! Just lend me enough for 50 cents’ worth of data. There’s ice cream in the fridge; I’ll let you have it. Go grab it yourself,” Zhong Weishi said.

“I don’t eat sweet stuff this late at night,” Gu Lizhou said.

“Then save it for tomorrow,” Zhong Weishi said while grabbing Gu Lizhou’s thumb and forcibly using it to unlock his phone with fingerprint recognition. “We’re brothers—no need to stand on ceremony. Just remember to check the production date. Some batches are from the year before last.”

“…”

Gu Lizhou suddenly felt that it was a fvcking miracle this little punk was still alive—a miracle more astounding than his own rise to the rich list back in the day.

After connecting to the hotspot, the livestream still lagged, making it clear that the real problem was Zhong Weishi’s phone.

Gu Lizhou wrinkled his eyebrows. “Your crappy phone should’ve been replaced with a stainless steel basin.”

Zhong Weishi: “…”

At this point, the number of people in the live broadcast room was already approaching four digits.

It was an absolutely baffling phenomenon for an old person like Gu Lizhou, who had long retired from the modern world.

It was true what they said—the forest is vast, and it harbors all kinds of birds.

Zhong Weishi’s username looked like someone had smashed a keyboard to create it.

[fapgnapg]: Baby Fei, love you muah muah! Jiayou oh! This outfit today is the third color between snow and moonlight, the absolute color!

Gu Lizhou gagged audibly.

Pop-up: “fapgnapg” gifted a chocolate ball.

Gu Lizhou swept him a glance, “A single yuan, is this what you call showing support?”

Zhong Weishi : “You know nothing! A yuan isn’t money to you ah! Do you have any idea what that one yuan means to me!”

Gu Li Zhou was full of contempt: “What?”

Zhong Weishi exclaimed dramatically, “It means tomorrow’s pancake will be missing the spicy strips! You can’t just look at what I give; you need to consider what I have! Someone like you, born with a silver spoon in your mouth, could never understand the pain of us poor folk! Do you have any idea what it feels like not to eat spicy strips…”

Gu Lizhou casually sent him a WeChat red packet. “A year’s supply of spicy strips.”

“Thank you, boss!” Zhong Weishi immediately kowtowed to him.

Meanwhile, Da Fei grinned at the camera. “Thank you to that viewer with the ‘f’ name for gifting a chocolate ball.”

Gu Lizhou was puzzled. “Why does he have to read out what everyone gives?”

“Hm…” Zhong Weishi paused thoughtfully. “It’s probably like a little ritual to show appreciation. When you hear your name mentioned, you feel kind of proud.”

Gu Lizhou: “Sounds like a beggar.”

“Can you shut up.” Zhong Weishi snapped, rolling his eyes dramatically.

Gu Lizhou stiffened, pointing at Da Fei on the screen with a mix of shock and awkwardness. “H-he, he can hear us talking right now?”

Zhong Weishi: “…” He felt that Gu Lizhou was lying about his age being 32 years old. This guy’s clearly living in his grandparents’ era, right?

---

Translator’s notes: Sorry for the delays in update. I was quite busy during the holidays. Happy new year to everyone! ❤️

Coincidentally, the room Zhong Weishi was staying in happened to be the one Gu Lizhou had slept in as a child. Even the Ultraman stickers on the nightstand hadn’t been peeled off.

Gu Lizhou collapsed onto the bed with his limbs spread out, letting out a satisfied sigh. “So comfortable.” The nostalgia of childhood washed over him.

Zhong Weishi thought to himself that this guy really had no limits when it came to finding excuses to stay. Even such an outright lie could roll off his tongue.

This bed was a hard plank left behind by the landlord. It was stiff, old, and narrow, having weathered who-knows-how-many years of wear and tear. Every time someone turned over, the noise was deafening. Even with a blanket thrown on top, it was barely a step above sleeping at a subway station. “Comfortable” wasn’t even in the same galaxy as this bed.

What was this—some rich second generation kid’s way of experiencing life?

Did eating too much bird’s nest and shark fin soup make him crave scraps and wilted greens?

“You’re not performing any rituals?” Zhong Weishi chuckled softly.

Gu Lizhou turned onto his side in a pose reminiscent of a drunk imperial concubine. “I’m exorcising ghosts with sheer willpower.”

“Let me remind you ah.” Zhong Weishi pulled a T-shirt from the wardrobe. “This bed makes a racket every time you move so much. If you keep tossing and turning and wake me up in the middle of the night, or stop me from falling asleep, I’m keeping your money.”

“I won’t sleep until you’re asleep,” Gu Lizhou replied, grabbing the T-shirt. But after one glance, he flipped his eyes and tossed it back. “What the hell is this, a rag?”

“Then go naked,” Zhong Weishi said.

Gu Lizhou caught sight of a neatly folded shirt on top of the pile. He asked, “Is that white one new? Let me see.”

Zhong Weishi threw it to him.

Gu Lizhou inspected the shirt from every angle. It looked vaguely familiar, though he couldn’t place where he’d seen it before—until he heard Zhong Weishi say, “The one you bought for me last time ah.”

“Ah…” Gu Lizhou held the T-shirt up, noticing the tag was still attached. “Why haven’t you worn it yet ah?”

Zhong Weishi’s wardrobe was mostly filled with rags bought for 19.9 yuan with free shipping—faded, pilled, and mismatched. Pairing them with something that cost 898 yuan would probably make it look like a knockoff from a street stall.

Besides, his daily routine involved filming outside, rolling around in action scenes, and getting into mock fights. Clothes wouldn’t last more than three days before looking worn out.

He couldn’t bring himself to wear it.

Of course, the excuse he gave was: “It’s for warding off bad vibes.”

Gu Lizhou rolled his eyes and picked up the original ragged shirt. “Fine, let it keep warding off whatever it’s supposed to.”

Zhong Weishi was surprised at how familiar this old scoundrel was with his apartment. Not only did Gu Lizhou immediately find the bathroom, but he also turned on the bathroom heater with practiced ease, as if it were his own home.

He even knew where the water heater’s socket was.

Scary!

Leaning against the doorframe, Zhong Weishi got straight to the point. “Be honest, were you a pickpocket before ah?”

Gu Li Zhou was stunned, “Huh?”

Zhong Weishi figured it was possible Gu Lizhou had secretly “visited” 301, only to leave disappointed when he realized its owner was even poorer than he was.

He decided to word it more tactfully. “I mean, like one of those noble thieves who rob the rich to help the poor. And now you’ve decided to retire and go straight.” The more he said it, the more it seemed plausible! It fit perfectly with Gu Lizhou’s profile—a wealthy man with “a reputation,” now wanting to reform and start fresh.

“It’s a shame you don’t publish books,” Gu Lizhou said, slamming the door behind him as he began undressing.

Zhong Weishi instinctively pushed the door open again, then froze in place and quickly shut it.

His mind was suddenly filled with the image of those two pale pink dots and Gu Lizhou’s bewildered expression.

Forget it.

He lay down on the bed.

If Gu Lizhou was a thief, then he must have been a damn good one.

Gu Lizhou’s bewilderment lasted for quite a while. He had searched every corner of the bathroom, but there wasn’t a trace of body wash—only a bar of soap.

Soap was soap; he could be nostalgic for a moment. But the key issue was that the soap had three bold characters stamped on it: Shu Jia Jia.

To top it off, before he started scrubbing his clothes with laundry detergent, he decided to double-check. Sure enough, the label read “Lan Ri Liang”¹Blue Sunshine.—those three words shone brighter than the moon outside tonight.

Setting his dirty clothes aside to take home and wash the next morning, Gu Lizhou returned to the bedroom and commented, “That laundry detergent of yours is fake, isn’t it? What the hell is Lan Ri Liang?”

“Ah,” Zhong Weishi replied, lying face down on the bed without lifting his head. “Bought it from that crappy supermarket downstairs. Didn’t really pay attention when I got it, but it smells pretty nice after washing.”

Gu Lizhou picked up his collar and sniffed. “Fart, it stinks.”

Zhong Weishi let out an ‘en, ‘ “Yeah, it’s probably because I just farted.”

Gu Lizhou kicked him on the butt.

Tight and flexible.

The odd sensation made him pause for a moment.

Zhong Weishi glanced back at him. Somehow, Gu Lizhou had managed to wear that nearly see-through, washed-out rag of a shirt with the poise of a runway model rocking high-fashion homeless chic. Meanwhile, his lower half was clad only in a new pair of underwear.

It was jarring.

Zhong Weishi tossed a small blanket at him. “Cover yourself up already. You look ridiculous. My eyes are burning.”

Gu Lizhou chuckled. “So, what wouldn’t burn your eyes ah?”

Zhong Weishi didn’t think twice, “My kind.”

Gu Lizhou didn’t say anything, still laughing.

Zhong Weishi caught a faint hint of mockery and raised his middle finger to him “Definitely bigger than yours.”

Gu Lizhou didn’t bother to bullshit him and climbed into bed, tilting his head slightly toward Zhong Weishi. “What are you reading?”

“A novel.” Zhong Weishi wiggled his toes. “<Enchanting Jin’an>. Heard of it? It’s Jiu Mangxing’s new work—absolutely brilliant.”

Of all authors, it had to be his nemesis.

Gu Lizhou rolled his eyes so hard they could’ve outshone pearls. “Not interested. What’s so great about it?”

Zhong Weishi finished the last bite of his red bean popsicle. As he chewed on the stick, he began promoting it enthusiastically: “It’s really good. Just read a few chapters, and you’ll get it. It’s a suspense mystery. I thought it was pretty average at first, but it keeps getting better the deeper you go. Each twist connects perfectly to the next. The author’s seriously NB. They’re even adapting it into a TV series soon. Though, I’m not sure if they can pull off the supernatural effects…”

Zhong Weishi rambled on endlessly. The chatter grated on Gu Lizhou’s nerves until he couldn’t hold back anymore and interrupted, “Why the hell would I care? I don’t want to know anything about him.”

Though Zhong Weishi usually came across as carefree, he was actually quite perceptive when it came to the key moment. Sensing something off about Gu Lizhou, he put down his phone and asked, “What’s wrong ah? Are you upset?”

Gu Lizhou realized his tone earlier had been a bit harsh and muttered softly, “Nothing. I just don’t really like that author.”

“Then let’s not talk about him.” Zhong Weishi grinned and said, “Let’s talk to you about my idol.”

Because of the earlier topic, Gu Lizhou wasn’t particularly interested. “Takeshi Kaneshiro, Daniel Wu, or Louis Koo?”

“None of them.” Zhong Weishi shook his head smugly. “My idol’s a writer too. His name is Wan Lizhou. Have you heard of him? He wrote a famous novel called <Souls of the Dead>… It’s a fantasy story. The main character starts off with just the ability to see people’s lifespans…”

Every fan, when talking about their idol, has eyes that light up and words that flow endlessly, as if hoping the whole world could join in their admiration.

Zhong Weishi was no different.

Gu Lizhou’s entire being was frozen as if someone had pressed the pause button.

He had never imagined that one day, in such an unexpected place and in such an unbelievable way, he would hear someone else casually mention the names of the characters from his own books.

It was an overwhelming rush of nostalgia, mixed with… pure euphoria!

The air conditioning blew, lifting the hair on top of Zhong Weishi’s head, making it stick up.

Gu Lizhou suddenly found himself thinking that this little rascal was looking more and more pleasing to the eye.

“Actually, I only started reading his books a few years ago. Back then, Wei-ge recommended <The Sovereign of Another World> to me. Once I started, I couldn’t stop—I went back and read everything he’d ever written. I can’t even imagine how someone in their 20s could write something like that. It’s terrifying. That’s the difference between a genius and us mere mortals ah…” Zhong Weishi’s wave of rainbow farts blew loud and long.

Gu Li Zhou first had a burst of passion and his heart raced with excitement, then he shamelessly encouraged Zhong Weishi to say more.

After all, who wouldn’t be curious about how others perceived them?

Even the great god writer was certainly no exception.

Sure, he had seen countless comments online like “This author is amazing,” “Their writing is brilliant and epic,” and “They bring every character to life.” But hearing it said to his face by a real reader? That was a uniquely surreal and embarrassing experience.

Especially that sentence: “I really love him.”

Gu Lizhou felt like his cheeks were about to cramp from holding back his grin. “Is he really that good?”

“Of course!” Zhong Weishi raised his eyebrows and said rather proudly. “No one has ever surpassed him in my heart—not even Jiu Mangxing. Wan Lizhou will always be my white moonlight!”

Zhong Weishi watched in real-time as the person before him went from looking like he’d just eaten shit to blushing like a shy teenager spotting their crush.

The whole transformation took less than two minutes.

He even smiled a little lewdly.

“You’ve definitely read his work before, right? He’s probably from your generation ah,” Zhong Weishi said.

Your. Generation.

Every word hit Gu Lizhou’s chest like an 80-kilogram sledgehammer, pounding relentlessly against his metaphorical white moonlight.

Gu Lizhou felt like coughing up blood, but he gritted his teeth as he shook his head. “Never heard of him.”

Not only had he not read Wan Lizhou’s work—he hadn’t even heard of him. This was a devastating blow to the diehard fan sitting before him.

This is the generation gap between the young and the old ah!

Zhong Weishi snorted derisively, clearly unimpressed. He twisted the knife further: “See, this is the difference. Look at Wan Lizhou—he debuted before he even turned 20, writing novels. In just a few years, he created legendary works with billions of clicks. He’s an SSS-level diamond-tier author in the Xinghe Century rankings, with a net worth in the hundreds of millions. He even made it onto that, what was it? The Starlight Authors’ Rankings. His works are still classics after all these years. Now, look at yourself.”

Zhong Weishi gave Gu Lizhou a once-over, his eyes filled with disdain. “Hmm? A stubborn piece of scrap metal.”

Gu Lizhou: “…”

At 10:30 PM, the area outside the Lanshan Apartments was so dark that one couldn’t see their fingers. In the living room, the lightbulb flickered on and off, creating an atmosphere that was automatically set to the creepiest level.

Gu Lizhou, being a master storyteller who could churn out tens of thousands of words daily and dominate the rankings, effortlessly spun a chilling midnight ghost story. Paired with the eerie ambiance of the old apartment building, Zhong Weishi found himself utterly captivated, almost believing every word.

“The girl was wearing a striking red cheongsam before she died. Her hair was disheveled, and her body wasn’t discovered until several days after she hanged herself. During the autopsy, they found that one of her high heels was missing…”

Hugging a small cushion tightly, Zhong Weishi shrunk into a ball, “Where did it go?”

“No one knows ah. Later, the residents here started feeling a heavy pressure on their shoulders and necks, they went to the hospital but they couldn’t find anything wrong. An old neighbor’s granny advised one of them to consult a Taoist priest. At that time, that priest brought out a Bagua mirror…”

Zhong Weishi listened intently, his mouth slightly agape.

Gu Lizhou, mastering the pacing of his story, suddenly raised his voice at the climax, “And in the Bagua mirror, a shadow appeared! She was hanging right where you’re sitting now!!”

“fvck!” Zhong Weishi felt something tap his shoulder and leapt up instantly. “You-you-you-you, stop talking about this… in the middle of the night!”

Gu Lizhou retracted his arm and leaned back, revealing a triumphant smirk. “Can you still sleep?”

“Why can’t I sleep.”

Though slightly spooked, Zhong Weishi retained his rationality. He knew that ghosts and monsters only existed in novels and TV.

He pulled out his phone and played a song, intending to take it to the bathroom for his shower. “It’s not like I killed her. If she’s looking for someone, it should be her scumbag ex-boyfriend.”

Gu Lizhou was about to make up something even more terrifying when Zhong Weishi cut him off with a look of driving ducks into the water,¹Chinese idiom which typically implies someone forcing or ruching another to do something, often with little choice or patience involved. Just like how one might drive ducks into water without their full cooperation. “Why are you still here? Go to bed. I’m going to shower. Or do you want to stay and watch?”

“Go ahead and shower. I’ll just sit here a bit longer,” Gu Lizhou crossed his legs and sat down on the sofa. He was ready to perform a live demonstration of falling asleep right there. After all, it was hot, and crashing on the couch for the night didn’t seem like a bad idea.

“Tsk, tsk. You feel the yin energy here is too strong? My yang energy is abundant. Let me balance it out for you so you don’t get possessed.”

Zhong Weishi felt his nonsense was becoming more and more ridiculous. Suspicious, he asked, “You’re not scared to go back, are you?”

“Ha!” Gu Lizhou let out a cold laugh. “As if. You go shower first, and I’ll leave when you’re done.”

“To be my protector ah? So kind?” Zhong Weishi laughed.

Gu Li Zhou: “When did I treat you badly?”

Just then, Zhong Weishi’s phone chimed.

[Cao Zhiheng]: Little guy, my girlfriend is staying over tonight, so I don’t have an extra room. At this hour, it’s hard to get a ride, so could you let Old Gu stay at your place for the night?

Realization dawned on Zhong Weishi. He replied with a “Sure.”

[Cao Zhiheng]: Sorry to bother you!

[Cao Zhiheng]: He’s mostly fine, just really grumpy when he wakes up. Don’t talk to him in the morning. I’ll treat you to a meal sometime!

After replying, Zhong Weishi turned his head to glance at the one who was now sitting cross-legged on the sofa, looking like he was meditating. He couldn’t help but laugh out loud.

God damn balancing yin and yang.

How had he not noticed before that this guy was full of crap?

“What are you laughing at?” Gu Lizhou frowned, “Why don’t you hurry up and take a shower?”

His tone was so brusque, it was as if he were the master of the house.

“Oh,” Zhong Weishi didn’t say anything. He held his clothes and headed into the bathroom.

Gu Lizhou looked around at his family’s old house.

The landlord likely bought this apartment just to rent it out. They had simply repainted the walls and added some new appliances, but most of the furnishings remained unchanged, only moved around slightly.

The tables, chairs, and stools were the same ones Gu Lizhou had used as a child, even the sofa beneath him now.

The solid wood furniture was incredibly durable; decades later, it had only a bit of surface wear and tear. The armrest still bore the circular burn mark left by his grandfather’s cigarette.

Curled up on the sofa, Gu Lizhou glanced at the TV, which was replaying a legal program. The host’s deep, resonant voice was as familiar as ever.

It was as if time had traveled back to the summer of more than twenty years ago.

“Hey, old man, where did you pick up this little kitten ah?”

“Got it from the factory. Old Li’s family’s cat had a whole litter of kittens, and they’re all so beautifully colored. Zhou Zhou, come out and see what I brought back for you!”

“Kittens!”

“Like it?”

“Like it!”

The little kitten sniffed around on the floor, occasionally tripping over its own feet as if performing a comedy act.

“Why did you suddenly think of getting a cat?”

“Zhou Zhou spends weekends at home alone—it’s boring for him. A kitten will keep him company.”

…

“Zhou Zhou, eat more so you can grow taller. Look at Old Cao’s son. He never likes eating and is always drinking soda, which is why he’s so scrawny—just a skinny little bamboo stick. You need to eat your greens.”

“Ai–I don’t want to grow taller. I want braised pork.”

“Eat the vegetables first and then eat the meat.”

“But Grandpa didn’t eat any vegetables! He’s already eaten two pieces of meat!”

“Hahaha… you little rascal.”

The little boy, barely over a meter tall, hugged the kitten tightly as he curled up on the sofa. His grandmother’s palm-leaf fan would wave gently, lulling him through a lazy summer afternoon.

The warm smiles and gentle voices of his grandparents seemed to reappear vividly before his eyes. Gu Lizhou chuckled softly at the memory, but soon found the tip of his nose stinging with a hint of sadness.

He laughed because their lives had been filled with love and care for him. But the pain came from how they had passed away—neither peacefully.

Grandpa had terminal stomach cancer, and grandma, overwhelmed by depression, followed him shortly after.

The day his grandfather passed, Gu Lizhou was still at school, unable to make it back in time to see him one last time—a regret that lingered with him to this day.

Zhong Weishi secretly cracked the bathroom door open to sneak a glance. He saw Gu Lizhou stretch lazily before flopping down onto the sofa in a perfectly shameless move.

This wave of rogue operation was quite skillful ah!

When Zhong Weishi finished his shower and came out, Gu Lizhou was still lying in the same position, curled up on the sofa, hugging a small cushion.

A 32-year-old man cuddling a pillow adorned with a cartoon puppy—it was such an absurd yet oddly endearing sight.

The air conditioner in the living room was broken, and the small oscillating fan blew rhythmic puffs of air, causing Gu Lizhou’s T-shirt to billow slightly, revealing a small section of his waist. The gentle curve of his torso, combined with the way his side-lying posture highlighted his collarbones peeking from under his neckline, gave an unexpectedly striking impression.

Even Gu Lizhou’s hair was meticulously styled with hair spray, maintaining a handsome look even as he lounged.

In Zhong Weishi’s eyes, this man was simply flirty as hell.

He hadn’t planned to wake Gu Lizhou, but seeing how his long legs had no place to stretch out, awkwardly curled up on the narrow sofa, made him look a little pitiful.

The two-seater sofa was clearly too small to accommodate the man. If he stayed like this until morning, he was bound to wake up with a stiff back, sore waist, and cramping legs.

Letting Gu Lizhou crash for a night wasn’t a big deal at all, especially since he had covered two months of rent in advance. Honestly, if he wanted to stay here, Zhong Weishi wouldn’t have minded. What he didn’t understand was why Gu Lizhou needed to come up with such a ridiculous excuse to stay.

Bending down, Zhong Weishi poked Gu Lizhou’s arm, silently guessing that the man would play dead.

Sure enough, Gu Lizhou didn’t disappoint. He even added an extra flourish by letting out a rhythmic, believable snore.

The sound wasn’t exaggerated but naturally deep and steady.

“Hey, rich man,” Zhong Weishi muttered, curling a finger and flicking Gu Lizhou’s beauty peak. “Wake up, the moon’s shining on your ass already.”

Gu Lizhou’s eyebrows twitched slightly, but he simply rolled over to face the back of the sofa, pressing his forehead against the gap. A low, hoarse grunt escaped his throat.

The general meaning was: I’m already asleep, leave me alone.

His calm and composed performance was so convincing that even Zhong Weishi had to admit defeat.

Pushing lightly on Gu Lizhou’s shoulder, Zhong Weishi whispered, “You’re really not going to shower ah? Is this how rich people live, just roughing it like this?”

Gu Lizhou’s eyebrows twitched and didn’t move.

Leaning in closer, Zhong Weishi blew a soft puff of air near his ear. “Hey, did you hear me ah? The spot you’re lying on is where the ghost hanged herself ah. Don’t you feel a little heavy on your shoulders?”

When he got close, he could smell a faint tobacco odor on the other person.

It was enough to stir up Zhong Weishi’s cravings for a cigarette.

“I just heard something strange in the bathroom. It was kind of creepy…” Zhong Weishi propped his hands on his knees as he leaned in to whisper near Gu Lizhou’s ear. “How about you move to my room instead, huh?”

Internally, Gu Lizhou celebrated with a triumphant ‘Yes’ but afraid that waking up too suddenly would seem fake. He let out a few groggy grunts for a long time, then finally furrowed his brows and put on an expression that screamed ‘Oh, when did you get here?’ Before asking groggily, “You’re done showering?”

“Ah,” Zhong Weishi nodded. “I’ve finished. So, are you heading back now?”

WTF!?

That’s not what you said earlier!

Gu Li Zhou’s heart roared.

“En?” Zhong Weishi raised an eyebrow, looking smug.

Clearing his throat, Gu Lizhou rubbed his ears dramatically. “Uh, did I hear something move? I didn’t catch it clearly; I must’ve been asleep.”

Zhong Weishi chuckled, too lazy to call him out. “Go shower, then come to my room to keep balancing the energy. My place has heavy yin energy—I keep hearing marbles dropping on the floor.”

“Oh!? Really?” Gu Lizhou jumped at the opportunity. “Didn’t know you were so timid. Well, in that case, I suppose I have no choice but to reluctantly help you analyze the situation.”

Zhong Weishi: “…”

Gu Lizhou said he was going back to grab a change of clothes, but after about ten minutes with no sign of him returning, Zhong Weishi’s curiosity got the better of him. Peeking out, he spotted Gu Lizhou crouching in an odd posture outside apartment 303.

No key?

“What are you do…” The rest of the sentence never made it out of his mouth. Zhong Weishi was abruptly spun around, one arm locking tightly across his chest while the other clamped firmly over his mouth.

He tried to push the arm away but couldn’t budge it.

“Shh!—” Gu Lizhou’s voice, along with the heat of his breath, tickled Zhong Weishi’s ear.

Zhong Weishi could feel it—the warmth of Gu Lizhou’s breathing, his fingertips, his entire body. The heat from their skin-to-skin contact spread a sticky, oppressive warmth.

“Mmph! Mmph!” (Let me go!)

“Don’t say anything.”

Zhong Weishi nodded, following Gu Lizhou’s gaze which happened to be the couch in the living room of 303.

There were no lights on in the house.

The faint glow of the TV screen flickered intermittently, outlining two indistinct human figures on the couch. That long-lost couple, reunited at last, was currently engaged in a not suitable for children, overly romantic French-style pastime.

Zhong Weishi let out an ‘ugh’ and muttered in distaste. “You’re such a pervert, spying on other people kissing.”

Gu Lizhou lowered his voice as well. “You think I want to? I just didn’t feel like barging in and interrupting them.”

Zhong Weishi didn’t buy his excuse, “then you’re still watching.”

“I’m waiting for a moment when walking in wouldn’t be awkward,” Gu Lizhou explained seriously. “I thought they’d finish quickly, but I didn’t expect it to be so long-lasting.”

The two of them crouched side by side by the windowsill, resembling a pair of mischievous cats about to steal fish, with only their eyes peeking out.

Cao Zhiheng, with one arm around his girlfriend’s neck, seemed utterly lost in the moment. The more he kissed, the more fervent it became, showing no signs of stopping.

Zhong Weishi’s legs were starting to go numb from squatting. He muttered in a small voice, “I just don’t get it. Why do couples like eating each other’s spit so much? They’ve been at it forever—aren’t their mouths sore yet?”

“..” Gu Lizhou was speechless. Such a romantic act, yet Zhong Weishi somehow managed to make it sound completely unappealing.

As Cao Zhiheng kissed, pinned his girlfriend onto the couch and shifted his kisses to her neck. Zhong Weishi’s eyes widened as if he’d just discovered a new world. He stared intently, practically leaning forward to get a closer look, all while excitedly making wow wow wow noises.

Gu Lizhou hurriedly covered his eyes and mouth, “Go, go, go, children shouldn’t be watching this.”

Zhong Weishi pried Gu Lizhou’s hands off. “I’m an adult!”

“Even if you’re an adult, you still can’t watch.” Gu Lizhou tried to yank him away but failed. He resorted to hooking both arms under Zhong Weishi’s armpits like he was hauling a corpse and dragged him back to 301.

“Why are you like this?” Zhong Weishi planted his hands on his hips. “So it’s okay for the officials to enjoy the show, but the commoners can’t watch?”

“Adult matters. What’s a little brat like you doing getting involved?” Gu Lizhou spread his hands, and said “Where are those imported underwear you were bragging about? Let me take a look.”

Zhong Weishi tossed the bag at him. “A thousand for a pair.”

“Didn’t you say you’d give them to me?”

“That was back when we were friendly neighbors. Now it’s debtor and creditor—totally different dynamic,” Zhong Weishi said.

“Fine, I’ll rent one. Based on a lifespan of three years per pair, it’s a note a day.” Gu Lizhou fished a five-yuan note out of his pocket and slapped it onto the table with a flourish. “Five yuan, keep the change.”

Zhong Weishi laughed so hard his stomach hurt. “Who the hell wears one pair of underwear for three years? Why don’t you calculate based on 30 years? Uncle Cao wasn’t wrong about you—you really are an old beast.”

Gu Lizhou retaliated by chucking a pillow at his forehead. “You little beast!”

A few minutes later, Gu Lizhou heard Zhong Weishi shout from the room, “Do you want to borrow my clothes?”

“Does it cost money?” Gu Lizhou asked. A laugh came from inside.

“You’re allowed to rent it for a day!”

Gu Lizhou laughed and went inside.

Gu Lizhou thought that if he had to use something from this world to describe Zhong Weishi, it would be the wind.

Breeze, gust, whirlwind, storm, tornado…

All sorts of things, changing rapidly.

One moment, he’d be hanging his head in despair; the next, he’d be grinning and cursing up a storm.

“When I was a kid, I wasn’t ugly. I was just skinny. And I liked to play around, so I was several shades darker than other kids,” Zhong Weishi said while logging into his QQ space.

Gu Lizhou sat down with a cushion in his arms.

The album was filled with dozens of photos, almost all taken by a phone camera aimed at printed photos, making the images rather blurry.

In the first photo, two rows of children stood in the center, flanked by two elderly women with gray hair and warm smiles, looking vibrant. There were also two younger caregivers each holding a child.

In the background was a huge acacia tree.

But on closer inspection, one would notice that several of the children had visible physical defects.

One girl was particularly beautiful, but sadly had only one eye. The boy on the far right was grinning brightly, but he was missing an arm…

“That’s me,” Zhong Weishi pointed to one of the children being held.

Gu Lizhou gave a candid evaluation, “En, you do look kinda ugly.”

“I wasn’t even grown up then!” Zhong Weishi shot him a glare.

Gu Lizhou: “I was handsome even before I grew up.”

Zhong Weishi rolled his eyes. “Yeah, right. No pictures, no proof.”

“So young, yet already talking trash.”

“No pictures, no proof my ass.”

“…”

The next few photos showed Zhong Weishi growing up. His looks had improved quite a bit, but he was still far too skinny, with arms as thin as twigs, looking like a frail, sickly child.

Who would have thought that twenty years later, he’d be as lively as a firecracker?

“Every time a child was brought into the orphanage or adopted, the director would take a group photo to commemorate it. She has several albums of them,” Zhong Weishi said.

“Ai? Isn’t this Qiangzi?” Gu Lizhou zoomed in on the photo, pointing to a boy with a buzz cut.

“Yeah, you can actually recognize him,” Zhong Weishi said. “I remember he was sent in when he was about three or four. He only has three toes on his right foot.”

“That’s so ah…” Gu Lizhou furrowed his brows.

Seeing these photos made his heart feel as if it were weighed down by a heavy stone, leaving him deeply uncomfortable.

“But he’s luckier than me,” Zhong Weishi said. “His real mom got him back.”

““Oh?” Gu Lizhou was surprised. “Did she regret it?”

“No,” Zhong Weishi shook his head. “It’s said that his Dad racked up a lot of debt from gambling and had a violent streak. His Mom couldn’t support him, so she had no choice but to send him to the orphanage. Later, his Dad went to prison, and his Mom took him back. A few years ago, he came to Yucheng with me.”

Gu Lizhou found it hard to reconcile such a complicated family background with the Huangfu Qiang he knew.

Likewise, it was hard to imagine that the cheerful and carefree Zhong Weishi had gone through so much.

Perhaps that’s exactly why they turned out like wild grass—just a little rain and a bit of sunshine were enough to nourish their growth.

They were easily content and easily found happiness.

“Do you recognize which one is me?” Zhong Weishi asked.

“This one.” Gu Lizhou pointed to a boy holding a bear.

Zhong Weishi: “Awesome, you can even recognize this.”

Gu Lizhou: “It’s just way too ugly.”

Zhong Weishi let out a “fvck” and slapped his thigh. “No more looking!”

Laughing, Gu Lizhou grabbed his wrist and tugged him closer. “Don’t ah, let me see some more. I’m starting to think you just kept getting more handsome.”

“I think so too.” Zhong Weishi grinned, rubbing his nose as he handed over the phone. “But too bad I wasn’t lucky. If I’d been good-looking as a kid, maybe someone would’ve picked me up long ago. Who knows, I might’ve been forced to inherit a billion-dollar family business by now.”

“You think beautifully.” Gu Lizhou flipped through several more pages, noticing that the further he went, the fewer people appeared in the photos. By then, only the two elderly women were left taking care of the children.

In the last photo, an elderly woman with a weathered face sat in a wheelchair, her smile looking a bit weary.

Zhong Weishi pointed at the grandmother in the wheelchair. “This is the director of our Kaixin Orphanage. She was nearly 90 at the time and needed care herself.”

These photos seemed to unlock memories of his childhood, with each one telling a story.

For the first time, Gu Lizhou listened to Zhong Weishi ramble on about his childhood—there were moments of bitterness and sweetness, hardships and joys.

“Maybe not being adopted was your stroke of luck. It left your life open to endless possibilities,” Gu Lizhou said, exiting the app and handing the phone back.

“Ai—” Zhong Weishi slumped back on the couch. “That’s easy to say, but I really think I’m just plain unlucky. I never seem to land any serious roles.”

“You really want to be famous that much?” Gu Lizhou asked.

“Well, duh. What actor doesn’t want to be famous?” Zhong Weishi said, staring at the ceiling.

Gu Lizhou had expected him to give a shallow yet honest answer—like wanting to make money.

But this time, the answer was more unexpected.

“I want to know if they’ll regret throwing me away.”

Gu Lizhou was silent for a couple of seconds before realizing that the “they” Zhong Weishi referred to must have been his biological parents, not those who chose not to adopt him.

The fan blew the strands of hair on Zhong Weishi’s forehead, making them flutter slightly.

Gu Lizhou recalled an article he’d read on psychology that emphasized how closely one’s mental health is tied to childhood experiences.

Children who are abandoned often struggle to develop a sense of security. That deep-seated fear can alter their personality in various ways.

Turning grief and indignation into strength can be a good thing, but taken too far, it might do more harm than good.

Gu Lizhou lifted his hand and patted Zhong Weishi’s shoulder. “People live for themselves.”

Zhong Weishi paused, turning to look at him.

In fact, he had shared this reason for wanting to become famous with many friends, and everyone would always respond, “You’ve got to make big money, achieve great success, get angry at them and make them regret it.”

Today was the first time someone told him, “People live for themselves”.

Picking at a tear in his jeans, Zhong Weishi’s emotions were complicated. “I really like shooting movies. Even if I never find them, I won’t regret stepping into this industry.”

Gu Lizhou let out an ‘en’. “I can see that.”

Zhong Weishi raised an index finger. “I once set a goal for myself—if I don’t land any decent roles by the time I’m 28, I’ll quit and find a job that can actually support me.”

“Why 28 not 30?” Gu Lizhou asked.

“30 is too old; jobs are harder to find.” The words slipped out of Zhong Weishi’s mouth before he realized the implications, and in a panic, he tried to backpedal. Unfortunately, his tongue couldn’t keep up with his thoughts. “I-I-I… I didn’t mean that you’re old ah! It’s just, just, just… you get what I mean, right? I mean in the acting industry, 30 is considered… no, no, that’s not… ai…”

Gu Lizhou snorted coldly.

“How to say it, men in their 30s have their own kind of charm. Like you—you’re very charming. They say men are in their prime at 40; right now, you’re just a budding flower!”

“Heh.”

“Alright,” Zhong Weishi pouted, “then I’ll adjust my goal to 30 okay!”

“Didn’t you just say men only bloom at forty?”

“…”

The two bantered on this topic for quite a while until Zhong Weishi suddenly remembered the issue of his rent. He hurriedly grabbed his phone to call Qiangzi to borrow money.

Gu Lizhou stopped him, “I’ve already paid it all for you.”

Zhong Weishi was so shocked he nearly jumped off the couch. “So good? Aren’t you afraid I’ll suddenly run away?”

“If you run away, then you run away,” Gu Lizhou shrugged. “Consider it money well spent to see a person’s true character.”

Hearing this, Zhong Weishi felt a bit uncomfortable. “I won’t run. At least not until I’ve paid off what I owe.”

Gu Lizhou smirked. “Two months’ rent plus utilities comes to a total of 4,506. I’ll cut you some slack and round it down—just pay me back 4,500.”

Zhong Weishi snapped his fingers, then bent over and dragged out a metal box from under the bed. It was filled to the brim with one-yuan and fifty-cent coins, heavy as a rock.

“There should be five hundred in here. Take it back, count it, and we’ll settle up if it’s off.” He then pulled out four pairs of underwear from a bag. “These are imported. Since we’re buddies, I’ll cut you a deal—just a thousand each.”

Gu Lizhou gritted his teeth, “Are you even human?”

Zhong Weishi grinned, baring his teeth. “Aren’t you supposed to be loaded?”

Around ten, Cao Zhiheng sent a message: “Where are you?”

[Useless Yet Awake]: 301. Did your girlfriend leave?

[Cao Zhiheng]: No, my girlfriend’s staying over tonight, so I’m planning to sleep in your room later.

[Useless Yet Awake]: She’s already staying over, and you’re still sleeping in separate rooms? Are you even capable ah?

[Cao Zhiheng]: What do you know! We’re not married yet, so how can we do that? I have to maintain my image as the traditional good guy in her eyes. Besides, dating should have a sense of ceremony. I plan to give her my most precious chromosomes on our wedding night.

“…”

Gu Lizhou was quite shocked at Cao Zhiheng’s mindset.

The person was already at your place, and you’re thinking about sleeping in separate rooms?!

How the hell did this dog man get a girlfriend?

[Cao Zhiheng]: No point being jealous! If you don’t mind my snoring, you can bunk with me. If you do mind, try negotiating with the kid and squeeze in with him.

While Zhong Weishi was busy counting coins beside him, Gu Lizhou rubbed his temples, unsure how to respond.

Cao Zhiheng’s snoring was like a tractor revving up. Even with a wall in between, it was audible. Sharing a bed would mean a sleepless night.

As for this one next to him…

“288，290，292，294……”

“288, 290, 292, 294…”

“That…”

“En? 296, 298…”

Gu Lizhou watched him for a moment, then hesitated before asking, “Do you feel scared sleeping alone at night?”

“En?” Zhong Weishi turned to look at him. “Scared of what?—Ah ya, fvck! Where was I in the count?!”

Gu Lizhou hooked an arm around Zhong Weishi’s shoulder, using his other hand to casually push aside the pile of coins. Glancing around the room with an expression of exaggerated fear, he lowered his voice and asked cautiously, “Don’t you know this place used to be haunted?”

“What?!” Zhong Weishi’s fingers froze, his eyes widening in shock.

“So the landlord didn’t tell you about it ah…” Gu Lizhou said with a sinister grin, his voice dripping with mischief.