Author: hoeniely (Page 1 of 14)

Gu Lizhou knocked on the door of 301 for quite a while, but no one answered. Instead, a middle-aged woman with dyed hair came up the hallway, holding a small folding stool in her hand.

“You’re also looking for Zhong Weishi ah?” The woman curiously sized him up.

“Ah.” Gu Lizhou nodded.

“He owes you money ah?” The woman asked.

Gu Lizhou was taken aback, “No ah, did he owe you money?”

“Yes ah, he hasn’t paid last month’s rent yet. Always delaying, delaying, and now I can’t even reach him by phone. Today, I’m determined to catch him,” the woman said.

When the old house was sold years ago, it was handled by Gu Lizhou’s father. Gu Lizhou didn’t know about it. It wasn’t until after his college entrance exams that he found out the old house was gone—he couldn’t go back.

“Are you the landlord here ah?” Gu Lizhou asked.

“No, the house belongs to my cousin. She’s gone abroad, so I’m here to collect the rent for her,” The woman couldn’t stop once she started talking. “The little kid is actually quite straightforward. He’s been living here for several years, but he’s too playful, always hanging out with a bunch of odd people. I suspect he’s deliberately avoiding me… If he doesn’t show up today, I’m going to call someone to change the lock.”

Gu Lizhou watched her make a call.

It was indeed off.

The woman started nagging again, “He’s also unwilling to find a proper job, always dreaming about becoming an actor. I mean, with the thousands of people in the Film and Television City, what are the chances that kind of luck will fall on him? It’s all about having connections ya. Kids just don’t understand these things…”

To Gu Lizhou, her chatter sounded like a buzzing bee, going on and on. It was getting hard to listen to, so he interrupted, “How much does he owe you ah? I’ll cover it for now.”

The woman was first delighted, then curiously asked, “Who are you to him ya?”

“Friend,” Gu Lizhou replied. “Auntie, wait here for me. I’ll go get my phone and transfer the money to you, alright?”

“Sure, sure, sure,” The woman smiled and nodded repeatedly.

After Gu Lizhou paid, he sat on the balcony, lost in thought.

Zhong Weishi would perform some kind of talent for them almost every night, so Cao Zhiheng had left a long bench in the hallway, too lazy to move it back inside.

The old lady who sold takoyaki would always greet him with a smile when she saw him, “Waiting for the moon again ah?”

“Ah.” Gu Lizhou lit a cigarette.

If it were anyone else, they might think he was sick in the head, but the old lady would cheerfully say, “The weather’s great today. The moon will definitely be bright.”

Tonight’s moon was indeed very bright.

In City B, the smog was severe, and even on clear days, it was rare to see such a clear moon. But Yucheng was different.

The night sky twinkled with stars, as plentiful as shells on a beach, so abundant that one could step on them with every other step.

His thoughts drifted away.

Around nine o’clock, most of the lights in the apartment building had gone out.

When Zhong Weishi trudged up the stairs, exhausted, he was startled by a tall figure standing still at the door of 301.

“You finally know to come back, huh?”

When the other party spoke, Zhong Weishi breathed a sigh of relief, “It’s you ah. You scared the hell out of me. What are you doing standing here in the middle of the night instead of sleeping?!”

As Zhong Weishi fumbled for his keys to open the door, Gu Lizhou stepped inside right behind him.

“Do you need something?” Zhong Weishi dropped his backpack and collapsed onto the sofa.

Gu Lizhou said, “It’s not me who needs something; it’s your landlord. She said you’re two months behind on rent.”

“Oh…” Zhong Weishi rubbed his sore eyes and patted his calves. “I’m out of money.”

“Out of money again?” Gu Lizhou put one hand on his waist, pointing at him. “What about the money you make going out early and coming back late every day?”

“I gave it all to my grandma,” Zhong Weishi said.

Gu Lizhou frowned, “Didn’t you say you’re an orphan?! Where did this grandma come from?”

“She’s the grandma from the orphanage who used to take care of me. Her granddaughter called me this afternoon, saying she had a stroke and passed out,” Zhong Weishi explained.

Gu Lizhou froze.

Decades ago, a privately-run orphanage opened in the town of City C. It took in many local children who were born with disabilities or were homeless, and it also helped many find new homes.

Grandma Zhao was originally a rural teacher. After retiring, she worked at the orphanage, helping Director Li care for the children.

Eventually, due to Director Li’s age and lack of energy to raise funds from different places, the orphanage couldn’t continue operating and faced closure.

Zhong Weishi happened to be part of the last batch of children there. He was dark-skinned and scrawny as a child, looking like a sickly little monkey, so no one adopted him, even into his teens.

The older he got, the less people wanted to adopt him, fearing they wouldn’t bond properly.

Not long after the orphanage closed, the director passed away. At that time, only Zhong Weishi and a group of children with disabilities were left in the orphanage. Those children were gradually sent to the city’s orphanage, but Zhong Weishi cried and caused a fuss, refusing to leave, even sneaking out in the middle of the night by climbing over the wall.

After Grandma Zhao called the police and found him, she kept him with her.

Most of the children from the orphanage, as long as they didn’t have mental disabilities, were assigned simple jobs at local small units once they reached adulthood. Those who couldn’t work were supported by the government, but their living conditions were often bleak.

Zhong Weishi was considered one of the lucky ones, as Grandma Zhao had forced him to attend high school for two years.

“She used to tease me back then, saying, ‘You’re so ugly. If you don’t study hard and earn money, no girl will want to be with you.’” Zhong Weishi was picking at a small hole in his pants, making it bigger and bigger as he spoke.

A helpless life, a helpless fate. There were always people living difficult lives in unexpected ways, in unexpected places.

“Why didn’t you keep studying then?” Gu Lizhou asked.

“We were too poor at that time,” Zhong Weishi replied. “Grandma was already old and still had to take odd jobs to make money. She also had a granddaughter who needed to go to school, so I quit and went out to work.”

“I see ah…” Gu Lizhou pursed his lips, feeling it was a pity.

Zhong Weishi was in his second year of high school about six years ago. At that time, Gu Lizhou was busy serializing his last piece <Souls of the Departed> for Star Century.

If he had known earlier that such a place and such people existed, maybe he could have done something to help.

“Grandma and the director were really, really good people, but it’s a shame I haven’t made anything of myself. Grandma must be so disappointed in me.” Zhong Weishi hung his head and sighed. “If I had lots of money, she wouldn’t have to live so hard… and maybe her body wouldn’t have worn out from all the work.”

Gu Lizhou suddenly realized that when people are unhappy, even their hair strands are listless and have lost their former brightness.

The living room light flickered due to a faulty connection, and Zhong Weishi’s voice gradually weakened. There were a few soft sniffling sounds, like he was trying hard to hold back his emotions.

Gu Lizhou guessed that his eyes must be very red now.

He wasn’t quite sure what he was feeling, or what he wanted to do, but by the time he snapped back to reality, his hand was already resting on Zhong Weishi’s head.

This was the first time he had ever touched someone else’s hair, and the texture reminded him of petting a large dog.

Soft… and oddly comforting.

“It’s not your fault,” Gu Lizhou’s voice was soft and gentle. “You still remember Grandma’s kindness, and you went to the hospital to see her as soon as you could. I’m sure that made her very happy.”

Zhong Weishi froze for a moment, and a tear slipped from his eye, landing on his thigh. “Really?”

“Of course.” Gu Lizhou’s tone lifted at the end, making his answer sound particularly sincere.

Zhong Weishi sniffled.

Maybe it was because the other party was older, or maybe because his actions and words were so gentle, but he gave off a sense of reliability, and his words felt reasonable.

That’s right, grandma must be happy.

Before Zhong Weishi had a chance to fully recover from his sadness, the reliable one suddenly said, “Just how ugly were you as a kid ah? Do you have a photo I can see?”

“fvck!” Zhong Weishi angrily threw a pillow at him. “Is that the point here?!”

As Gu Lizhou caught the pillow, he saw that Zhong Weishi was smiling.

Gu Lizhou didn’t have ordinary hopes about finding a new job, because he didn’t know when he would leave Yucheng. If he liked it, he’d stay, and if not, he’d just move somewhere else for a while.

That’s how he’s been living for the past few years.

Zhong Weishi, on the other hand, seemed to think he had become delusional from being a gigolo. He went to great lengths to search for new socialist pathways for him, even personally registering an account for him on a website and filling out a resume.

The net was cast.

Gu Lizhou was woken up early in the morning by one unfamiliar phone call after another.

“Hello, is this Mr. Gu? I saw the resume you submitted to our company on XX Website. Are you available for an interview this afternoon?”

“What?”

“The resume you submitted to us for the job of Fruit Assembler.”

“…You’ve got the wrong number.”

“Hello, I’m from the ‘Energetic Seniors Health Association ah.’”

“No need.”

Just as Gu Lizhou was about to hang up, the person on the other side hurriedly called out, “Wait, you applied for our Sales and Customer Service position, right? Are you free to come for an interview? This job is simple, really, but it does require some hard work. You can hand out flyers, right?”

“…Sorry, I already found a job.”

The most bewildering call came from a man: “Hey, is this Gu Lizhou? I just saw your resume. Can you drive a forklift?”

“A what?”

“Forklift ah. We’re hiring forklift operators, preferably skilled old drivers. If you’re good at operating an excavator, you should be able to handle a forklift too, right? Do you have a license?”

“…” At this, Gu Lizhou was fully awake.

He vaguely recalled the voice call he’d received just before falling asleep.

“Hey, rich guy, there’s a verification code on your phone. Send it to me. I’m registering an account for you on XX website.”

“I’m helping you find a job ah! What else would I be doing? By the way, what’s your education level ah? What’s your major?”

“If you don’t tell me, I’ll just fill in the blanks randomly ah…”

When Gu Lizhou opened his computer and logged in to check the back-end, he was so furious that he saw stars and felt blood rushing from his seven orifices. He fainted on the spot.

Name: Gu Lizhou

Gender: Male

Age: 32

Graduated from: Lanxiang Technical

Special skills: Good-looking, with especially long legs.

Expertise: Expert Excavator Operator

Introduction: I have a lively and cheerful personality, and I’m always willing to help others. Although my work experience is a bit lacking, I can especially endure hardships! I really can endure! Plus, I have great luck—I’ve won countless “win another bottle” prizes since childhood, so I believe my good fortune is contagious. I sincerely ask your esteemed company to give me a chance to contribute to society! I promise to work diligently!

In the Film and Television Studio dozens of kilometers away, Zhong Weishi suddenly sneezed several huge times, almost suffocating.

He thought someone must be thinking about him.

Gu Lizhou gritted his teeth and sent a message to the bear child¹Brat, naughty child: When are you coming back?

[Lunatic]: Give me another half an hour. I still have a few new sets to shoot.

There was a photo attached below the message, showing several pairs of underwear in different colors, styles, and patterns laid out on the floor.

[Lunatic]: The boss said I could bring a few pairs. Do you want some? You can pick, and I’ll bring them back for you.

Gu Lizhou’s little morning grumpiness had mostly worn off by now.

Zhong Weishi was truly a fascinating person. He always managed to do something unexpected at the most random times.

Honestly, his first impression of Zhong Weishi wasn’t good.

Back at Qingfeng Garden, the boy’s impulsiveness and recklessness left him feeling confused and speechless, even a little disgusted. But after spending some time together, he realized that Zhong Weishi lived a very simple life.

If you’re his friend, he’ll go all out to help you in any way he can.

Like with this whole job search thing—Zhong Weishi perfectly illustrated the phrase, “The emperor isn’t anxious, but the eunuch is.” Though the process was a bit stupid, the intention was good.

He still vaguely recalled one afternoon when Zhong Weishi sent him several voice messages in a row.

“Hey, did you know? Da Fei is now doing crossdressing live broadcasting, just that kind of, it’s really popular now, dressing up in women’s clothes to sing and dance. I’ll send you the room number. We’re all brothers here, so make sure to drop by, brush some comments, and cheer him on.”

“Ah yes, don’t expose your identity when you go.”

“I’m telling you, Da Fei’s dancing is really energetic. You’ll definitely be blown away by his looks today.”

…

“Rich guy! Did you hear me ah? This is your chance to show off your rich and powerful charm ah! It’s Da Fei’s first time, we’ve got to give him some applause!”

[Lunatic]: So, what do you think? Any you like? This fabric is really good quality, and the best part is it doesn’t fade!

Wait, so all the underwear he bought before faded?!

Gu Lizhou lazily replied with a voice message: “I want solid colors.”

[Lunatic]: What lip²Lip and solid sounded the same. color? We’ve got black, red, white, gray—all kinds of colors here, but no lip color. Are you asking for dark red? That’s such a sultry color? Doesn’t really match your vibe…

[Useless Yet Awake]: …Solid colors, no patterns.

[Lunatic]: Oh.

The constant barrage of recruitment calls continued. Frustrated, Gu Lizhou simply pulled out his SIM card. As he was contemplating how to deal with that bear child tonight, there was a knock at the door.

He thought it was Cao Zhiheng forgetting his keys, but when he opened the door, it was actually a very pretty girl with chestnut-colored, wavy hair and a faint scent of perfume came to his nose.

The girl didn’t seem surprised to see him, “Gu Lizhou, right? Hello ah.”

Gu Lizhou nodded and took a couple of seconds to process: “Ah, you’re Old Cao’s girlfriend, right?”

“Yes ya! My surname is Meng, Meng Jingshi. I’m not sure if he’s mentioned me before.”

“Oh, I know.” Gu Lizhou quickly invited her in. “He’s mentioned you a few times. I’ve even seen your pictures together in his Moments. It’s just that your hairstyle looks a bit different from the photos and in person, so I didn’t recognize you right away.”

“I just had my hair done yesterday,” Meng Jingshi smiled. “My company is off today, so I came over to see him and cook dinner on the way. I bought some shrimp and steak. How about pasta and steak for dinner?”

Gu Lizhou didn’t want to be the light bulb,³Third wheel so he politely declined: “Nah, you two go ahead. No need to include me.”

“How can that be? Zhiheng specifically told me on the phone that we’d be having dinner together. I bought enough for three people, so you should join us.”

Understanding that Old Cao wanted to show off his girlfriend, Gu Lizhou didn’t refuse further.

Cao Zhiheng had gone out of town to buy materials and said he’d be home a bit late. With Meng Jingshi busy in the kitchen, Gu Lizhou felt somewhat uneasy.

He thought about going to the kitchen to help, but as soon as he stepped in, she kicked him out. Trying to settle into his usual spot on the couch to watch TV made him feel oddly guilty.

Living in someone else’s home and even having their girlfriend make dinner for you…

Gu Lizhou, are you even human!

With a quick flip, he leaped up and dashed into the kitchen. “Let me cook. Should I start by washing the rice?”

“Uh yeah. Have you never cooked before?” Meng Jingshi seemed a bit surprised.

“Ah,” Gu Lizhou stirred the rice a bit with his hand, “I hired a maid at home.”

“I heard from Old Cao that you used to be a big-time writer ah?” Meng Jingshi glanced back at him.

Most people around Gu Lizhou knew he wrote books, but to avoid disrupting his daily life, very few knew his pen name. It had been so long since he’d heard the term “big-time writer” in the real world that he felt a bit embarrassed.

“It was just okay, just scribbling.”

Meng Jingshi smiled and asked, “What’s your pen name? He wouldn’t even tell me, said I should ask you myself.”

Gu Lizhou licked his lips, “It’s not really anything special. Girls probably wouldn’t be too interested in that kind of material.”

“I heard from him that you stopped writing because your health wasn’t too good ah?”

“Yeah, partly because of health, but mostly it was more about my mindset. If you turn a hobby into a career, it feels different. Once something involves money and profits, it’s never pure anymore.” Gu Lizhou glanced at her. “Do you get what I mean?”

“Of course I do,” Meng Jingshi nodded with a smile. “People’s passion always gets worn down gradually, but losing passion doesn’t mean you stop liking it. No matter what industry you’re in, after a few years of doing it, reality will shape you into someone else. But as long as you stay true to yourself, an unpolished jade only becomes a beautiful jade—it never turns back into a stone.”

“You speak like a psychiatrist.” Gu Lizhou laughed.

“Huh? Really? Am I hard to communicate with?”

“Extraordinarily good at communicating.”

Meng Jingshi smiled, revealing two small dimples.

She had heard from Cao Zhiheng before that Gu Lizhou suffered from moderate depression. When she first walked in, she was worried that it might be difficult to communicate with him, but it seemed she had overthought it.

People with depression didn’t appear much different from others and were actually quite easy to talk to.

Meng Jingshi didn’t press further about his writing. Instead, it was Gu Lizhou who started chatting with her about Cao Zhiheng’s embarrassing childhood stories. She couldn’t stop giggling, covering her mouth as the awkwardness between strangers gradually faded.

When Cao Zhiheng arrived home, dinner was just on the table.

“You’re cutting it pretty close ah you?” Gu Lizhou brought out a fruit salad from the kitchen.

“Yo,” Cao Zhiheng’s first glance upon entering landed on the plate of fruit, “So ugly. Must’ve been cut by you, right?”

“I cut it.” A faint voice drifted out from the kitchen.

Cao Zhiheng immediately raised his voice, “I was just saying how artistic it is! These are little rabbit shapes? Very abstract—Mm, it tastes so sweet!”

Men in love are scary.

Gu Lizhou threw down, “Shameless.”

However, what he didn’t expect was that even more shamelessness was yet to come.

At first, dinner was normal. It was a square table, with Cao Zhiheng and Meng Jingshi sitting across from each other, while Gu Lizhou sat diagonally.

As he ate, he suddenly felt a gust of wind at his feet.

Without making a fuss, he tossed a bone onto the floor and bent down to pick it up, only to see four legs tangled together.

After being discovered by him, the two of them didn’t bother hiding it anymore. They exchanged drinks and fed each other like two sweethearts straight out of a pure love drama.

Cao Zhiheng’s mouth seemed like it had been soaked in honey. It was as if he wasn’t the same guy who normally talked about pee and shit.

No, it was as if it wasn’t a person!

“How can you eat so little—You’re not fat at all, really, not even a bit. If you were even the slightest bit chubbier, I could love you just a little bit more.”

“Leave it! If you do everything, then what am I here for?”

“When you’re around, even the watermelon tastes sweeter.”

Gu Lizhou had seen plenty of wild things in his life, but scenes like this were truly a first for him. Sitting at the dinner table, he was nauseated, rolling his eyes as goosebumps covered his arms.

If you were to ask him what he regretted more than that time he stayed to watch square dancing with Zhong Weishi and his group, it would be staying behind as a light bulb tonight.

He vaguely remembered back in their freshman year, when Cao Zhiheng once stood at the edge of a cliff at a tourist spot, shouting, “What’s so great about those stupid women? I’ll stay single forever!”

But now that he was in a relationship, his flirting was next level: “Jing, your lip color is so pretty today. Can I have a taste?”

Meng Jing Shi smiled bashfully.

Gu Lizhou dry-heaved and got up, heading for the door. “Forgive me, I need to step out and throw up for a while.”

Cao Zhiheng called out, “It’s late, where are you going ah? You’re not bothering us by staying.”

But you guys are affecting me ah!

Gu Lizhou hissed inwardly.

Instead of staying here and chewing on dog food,⁴Watch the couples be lovey-dovey it would be better to watch Zhong Weishi’s yo-yo performance.

That night, Zhong Weishi had a bizarre dream.

In the dream, Gu Lizhou took him to one of those high-end barbershops where you needed a membership card just to get your hair done. The new stylist, Tony¹This term was coined by Chinese young people to jokingly refer to hairdressers. It was when someone complained in an online forum that their hairdresser chatted all the time while giving them a haircut just to sell hairdressing products and prepaid membership cards. The netizens also mocked that the hairdressers always give themselves English name where Tony, being the most popular choice., gave him the ugliest bowl cut imaginable, complete with bangs that revealed his eyebrows, making it look like he was wearing a safety helmet on his forehead.

When the hair at the back of his head was lifted, a rainbow dye job was revealed underneath.

It was gorgeous, enchanting, and expensive—but completely unnatural for a normal person.

Behind him, Gu Lizhou exclaimed a “wow” and clapped his hands. “It looks great, looks great, it really suits you.”

Zhong Weishi was on the verge of tears, but he only had two small coins left in his pocket, nowhere near enough to pay for the haircut.

Next, Gu Lizhou took him to a boutique and bought him a designer suit worth several thousand yuan without batting an eye.

The two of them then sat in a luxury car together.

Zhong Weishi was confused. “Are you asking me to be your best man?”

Gu Lizhou smiled mysteriously, gently caressing the back of his head. His movements were soft.

Zhong Weishi caught a faint whiff of tobacco.

“Not the best man… the male prostitute oh.”

Zhong Weishi suddenly woke up!

The first thing he did after waking up was check his hair. Thank goodness, thank goodness, it was still intact.

He let out a couple of deep breaths, and his heart rate slowly returned to normal.

The air conditioning in the room had a mediocre cooling effect, and the nightmare had left his forehead sweating profusely.

As he got up to brush his teeth and wash his face, he seriously started analyzing this strange dream.

It was probably because, deep down, Zhong Weishi still thought of Gu Lizhou as a kept man—a gigolo, perhaps?

Was he?

Was he not?

Other than a rich second-generation or a gigolo, he really couldn’t think of any profession where someone could laze around all day without working and still live so carefree and comfortably.

After rinsing his mouth, Zhong Weishi opened the window and shouted, “Aunt Song! One jianbing, please!”

Auntie Song looked up and responded, “Got it~”

Just as Zhong Weishi pulled his head back in, a head popped out of the back window of Room 303.

“You’re making a lot of noise.” Gu Lizhou’s tone was unfriendly, laced with a strong dose of morning grumpiness.

Startled, Zhong Weishi stuck his head halfway out the window to face him. He felt a bit embarrassed, especially after recalling last night’s dream.

“The early bird gets the worm.”

“What about the early worm?”

“Yawn, the lazy person’s excuse.”

The windows in Zhong Weishi’s bedroom hadn’t been cleaned in ages, and the outer layer was covered in dusty grime, so he couldn’t clearly see Gu Lizhou’s expression. But he could see him stretch lazily, yawning with both hands covering his cheeks.

Zhong Weishi thought of how, every time Qiangzi yawned, he would open his mouth wide like a roaring beast. Sitting across from him, one could even see his trembling little tongue—a complete lack of decorum. But Gu Lizhou was different.

Even his yawns were elegant.

It’s a pity he’s a gigolo.

Wait, what’s a pity about a gigolo? Isn’t being a gigolo a profession in itself? Looking attractive and being seductive—that’s a unique skill, right?

Ah, ah, ah…

No!

A gigolo is basically the embodiment of a greedy, lustful, lazy, and degenerate man!

Zhong Weishi felt like the two little figures in his head were about to start fighting. Just as he was about to close the window and head out, that degenerate man on the opposite side said something that nearly made him stumble.

“Do you have a decent job there to introduce me to one?”

“Ha?”

The corners of Zhong Weishi’s lips twitched, and a thought instantly popped into his head: Did this guy got dumped by a rich woman?

Just as office workers spend every day wondering what to eat for their three meals, Gu Lizhou’s daily routine was about finding ways to add some amusement to his otherwise dull life.

Recalling how he’d once told Gu Lizhou at the police station, “Oh, so you’re unemployed. You should’ve just told me earlier—I could’ve shared a job with you,” he casually asked the question.

He thought if something came up, great; if not, then forget it.

But to his surprise, Zhong Weishi became unusually enthusiastic about Gu Lizhou’s job search, almost like an old father researching college applications for his son.

His excitement was overflowing.

“You’ve come to the right person if you’re looking for a job.” Zhong Weishi dragged a chair over in front of Gu Lizhou, putting on the look of a seasoned guide. “Do you have any special skills?”

Gu Lizhou stretched out a leg.

Straight and long.

“…” Zhong Weishi pursed his lips, resisting the urge to curse. But in order to help this lost lamb find a new direction in life, he held back his temper and smiled kindly. “I’m serious. What kind of work experience have you had before ah?”

Gu Lizhou hadn’t expected him to ask that and, fearing he’d dig further, hesitated for a moment before shaking his head. “No.”

Zhong Weishi knew from Gu Lizhou’s moment of hesitation that it had to be an unspeakable and disgraceful job.

Good, it’s nice to see a grown man knowing shame.

He patted Gu Lizhou on the shoulder. “Then, congratulations on deciding to turn over a new leaf. You’re still welcome in the harmonious society.”

The more Gu Lizhou listened, the more confused he became, his eyes narrowing into slits.

Zhong Weishi: “Have you thought about what kind of work you want to do?”

Gu Lizhou: “Whatever.”

From the moment he signed with the Xinghe Century website, he hadn’t considered doing anything in his life besides creating. He hadn’t thought about loving anything else either. This “whatever” sounded casual and indifferent, but underneath it lay deep helplessness and pain.

Of course, Zhong Weishi couldn’t sense his state of mind and only saw him as the typical example of someone with no ambition, just going through the motions.

Zhong Weishi pulled up a WeChat group dedicated to job postings, and the first message made his eyes brighten.. “Come, how about you look at this? I think it’s perfect for you.”

Hearing this, Gu Lizhou leaned in with anticipation.

The job was for a male technician at Cloud Paradise. Requirements: handsome and charismatic, suave and elegant. Local dialect and Mandarin fluency are a preferred. Exceptionally good-looking candidates will be hired with special consideration. No experience necessary; training provided. Room and board included.

Salary: 5,000-10,000, no upper limit.

The slap that Gu Lizhou threw out was crisp and loud.

Zhong Weishi, rubbing the bump on his head with a pained expression, said, “Didn’t you say whatever? This job pays so well. What’s wrong with it? Besides, look at the requirements; it’s practically tailor-made for you!”

Gu Lizhou raised his arm again, and this time Zhong Weishi dodged quickly. “I-I-I-I’ll look for another one! I’ll keep looking!”

Gu Lizhou barely managed to suppress his fury.

Did he look so powerless?!

At least back in the day, he was the king of the Xinghe Century website, dominating the top of the charts for years!

He had an SSS-level diamond badge, and he was the only one on the entire site with it! He broke records in clicks, favorites, and sales—anything with a number, he was first!

The kind of first that is far ahead!

“Then how about this one?” Zhong Weishi, still excited, handed him another job listing.

Security patrol for factory grounds. Requirements: No gender preference, aged 30-45, hardworking, able to endure hardships, follow instructions, no stuttering, no infectious diseases, and a passion for security work.

Salary: 2,500-3,200, with a full attendance bonus of 100, meal subsidy of 8 yuan per meal, and overtime pay at 1.5 times.

Food and accommodation included: 4-6 person dorm with air conditioning, water heater…

Gu Lizhou: “…”

This time, Zhong Weishi dodged the moment Gu Lizhou raised his arm. “What are you doing ah! What are you doing ah! What’s wrong with this one now ah! I think you meet all the requirements ah! It’s an easy job most of the time, but in critical moments, you can show off your manly prowess. If I were old enough, I’d do it too! And did you see the meal subsidy!”

Gu Lizhou mentally repeated “killing is illegal” several times, took a deep breath, and pointed to his hair. “This hairstyle cost me 3,600. Do you think this salary is enough to even get stuck between my teeth?”

Zhong Weishi, stiff-necked, lectured him: “You need to be practical, understand? You’ve got no work experience and no real skills, yet you still want a high-paying, prestigious job. Where do you think you’ll find that ah! If I could, I’d have already taken it! It wouldn’t be your turn!”

Gu Lizhou simply didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “At least show me a job that requires some skill. This is work an old man walking his bird in the park could do. Isn’t it a waste of talent to have me do it?”

Zhong Weishi: “You’ve already wasted 32 years anyway.”

Gu Lizhou: “…”

“You want a job with some skill, right?” Zhong Weishi pointed backward with his hand. “You know that ‘Chengmei Cross Stitch’ downstairs? They’re always hiring skilled cross-stitch workers. No age limit, and the more you work, the more you earn. It’s all based on skill. One piece can get you a few hundred in commission. I noticed you’ve got long, slender fingers; you must have talent for this.”

Gu Lizhou clenched his fists so hard his bones cracked.

Zhong Weishi sighed helplessly, “Why are you so difficult? This doesn’t work, that doesn’t work. Why don’t you just pretend to be deaf and mute and go beg on the street! I’ll ask around the film crew and borrow a beggar’s outfit for you.”

Gu Lizhou fell silent, realizing that letting a retard plan his life had been a catastrophically wrong decision.

Zhong Weishi thought Gu Lizhou was seriously considering the suggestion and tilted his head at him. “You’re not actually taking this seriously, are you? Have you forgotten what Old Li told us? Have you forgotten the oath you swore at the police station? From now on, be a decent person. Do you still remember the Eight Virtues and Eight Shames? Be proud of hard work and ashamed of laziness and bad labor! Brother, don’t lose yourself at the crossroads of life ah—”

Zhong Weishi racked his brain to educate.

Gu Lizhou rested his hand on his forehead and weakly waved him off. “Enough, just leave me alone.”

Zhong Weishi took a bite of his now-cold jianbing guozi and gently urged, “I’m not trying to discourage you ah, but when you’re just starting to look for a job, don’t set your expectations too high. As long as you can earn a living, that’s enough. Just look at me, I’m doing just fine. In life, the most important thing is to be happy. Happy every day, you know?”

At the mention of the word “happy,” Gu Lizhou slumped over the table, his eyelids drooping like a depressed cat.

He really wished he could experience that kind of retarded happiness, but who let him have a brain that just wouldn’t stop?

Zhong Weishi swallowed the rest of the jianbing and was about to leave, but curiosity got the better of him and he leaned closer. However, after thinking about it, he realized that invading someone else’s privacy probably wasn’t right, so he stood up again.

Without lifting his eyelids, Gu Lizhou muttered, “Spit it out.”

This is what you asked me to do ah!

Zhong Weishi sat back down, nudging his shoulder. “What did you… do before ya? It seems like you made a lot of money.”

Gu Lizhou knew he was trying to fish for a part-time job. “You wouldn’t be able to handle it.”

Zhong Weishi stiffened his neck. “Why can you do it and I can’t?! How do you know I can’t?”

Without hesitation, Gu Lizhou replied, “Your factory settings didn’t come with a brain.”

Zhong Weishi was so furious he seethed with anger, and blurting out, “Oh, so you’ve got a brain? If you’re so smart, how come you can’t even find a job?”

Gu Lizhou gave him a sideways glance. “Who told you I couldn’t find a job? When I was dominating the scene, you were probably still in some corner drinking milk.”

Zhong Weishi threw his head back and laughed out loud.

“Don’t believe me?”

“Tell me about it, then ah.”

Men just couldn’t be provoked.

Gu Lizhou took a deep breath, preparing to modestly but impressively reveal his past achievements.

“Let’s put it this way, I’ll give you a few hints, and you can try to guess.” Gu Lizhou said.

“Alright ah,” Zhong Weishi was intrigued.

“Internet, characters, plot, world-building, fantasy, classic… absolutely epic.”

Zhong Weishi clapped his hands. “So, you were playing online games?!”

“Really close!” Gu Lizhou pointed to himself with pride. “I’m the guy who created that legendary world.”

Zhong Weishi frowned, “Sold computers?”

Can’t communicate at all ah!

Gu Lizhou slumped back onto the table. “Scram ah, I need some time alone.”

“Don’t ah, don’t ah,” Zhong Weishi nudged Gu Lizhou’s shoulder. “You’ve already said this much, just satisfy my curiosity. I promise I won’t tell anyone.”

Gu Lizhou raised an eyebrow, “You really want to know that much?”

Zhong Weishi opened his mouth slightly and nodded eagerly.

Gu Lizhou ran his fingers through his hair, leaning back. “Actually, I’m someone who had immense popularity online, created countless classics, and once dominated the entire…”

“Wait wait wait,” Zhong Weishi pulled out his cell phone, “I need to take a call.”

“Hey! It’s Zhong Weishi ah!”

“En, en, en, Mr. Sun ah. Hello, hello, hello, you’re saying!

“Can ah, can ah! To be honest, I’m a hugely popular model in my social circle, creating countless hits, and was just this close to becoming famous. Payment per day works fine.”

“Uh-huh, and you’re giving out free sample underwear after the shoot ah? So good! You’re the most generous boss I’ve ever met, hehe.”

Zhong Weishi happily walked out, leaving behind a lonely figure in the living room.

Gu Lizhou sighed helplessly.

It was true that his legendary story could only be reduced to a topic of conversation after everyone’s tea.

No, it didn’t even get a turn in the conversation.

After all these years, did any of his readers still miss him?

After he stopped writing, Gu Lizhou focused on his treatment—exercising, traveling, sleeping, relaxing, and engaging in social activities. He took part in all sorts of beneficial pastimes, except for reading.

He didn’t even have the courage to log back into the Xinghe Century backstage again.

He felt sorry for those who had loved him.

Forget it! Stop thinking about it! Sleeping is what matters most now.

Gu Lizhou launched himself onto the bed, just about to drift into sleep when his phone buzzed on the nightstand.

It was a message from Zhong Weishi.

[The Head Thing from 301]: I’ve found another great job for you.

[The Head Thing from 301]: High pay, low effort, the only requirement is that you’ve got to be handsome with good genes. Half of the world’s population can’t even apply, which shows how exclusive it is. And the most important part: to complete it, you’ll need real skill! I think it’s absolutely perfect for you. You’re the only one for this!

Gu Lizhou didn’t even want to reply, but couldn’t suppress a tiny bit of curiosity.

[Useless Yet Awake]: ?

Zhong Weishi sent a small advertisement on a roadside utility pole asking for a child.

I, Zhang Miaochun, 30, curvy and charming, my husband is a local businessman, but due to an unfortunate accident, he has lost his ability to have children. To continue the family’s huge business empire, we are seeking a tall, strong, healthy, and handsome man to help me fulfill my dream of becoming a mother… Successful pregnancy will be generously rewarded.

Gu Lizhou blocked him without hesitation, but a moment later, Zhong Weishi sent a friend verification request.

[Weishi]: Hey, hey, hey, it was just a joke! Don’t be mad ah! Be a man and let it go!

[Weishi]: Hello?

[Weishi]: Alright,, I’m sorry! Forgive me!

Gu Lizhou laughed as he added him back and updated the contact note.

[Useless Yet Awake]: You’re annoying as hell.

[Lunatic]: Oh, right. You didn’t finish what you were saying earlier. What is it that you do again?

[Useless Yet Awake]: A rich man who makes money while lying down and doing nothing.

[Lunatic]: …

Gu Lizhou tossed his phone aside.

Inside, he felt extremely comfortable.

The little kid also wants to save face, so Gu Lizhou accepted the offer of an annual subscription to watch the performance.

Thus, the two empty nesters in Room 303 gained an additional entertainment activity before dinner each day.

Fearing they’d get bored of watching flips, Zhong Weishi added a variety of commercial performances, including Wing Chun,¹Lit. Singing Spring Boxing. It is a concept-based martial art, a form of Southern Chinese kung fu, and a close-quarters system of self-defense. It is a martial arts style characterized by its focus on close-quarters hand-to-hand combat, rapid-fire punches, and straightforward efficiency. yo-yo, playing with diabolo,²Diabolo or also known as Chinese yo-yo. This object is spun using a string attached to two hand sticks (“batons” or “wands”). spinning top, and the Thomas Flair…

Thanks to him, Gu Lizhou even dreamed at night about sitting in the corridor watching someone play with diabolo.

Beside him, an old man fanned himself with a palm-leaf fan.

Although everything besides the flips and martial arts was so terrible that it made you want to throw rotten eggs, Gu Lizhou still gave face and clapped, “Good—”

Zhong Weishi tugged at his clothes and turned around, smiling at him.

The boy’s eyes curved into two small crescent moons, and the arc of his smile was contagious.

This smile…

The dream ended.

Gu Lizhou stared at the ceiling for a while, then got up to change clothes.

“Hey, Old Gu, you’re up ah. Help me send those two boxes on the table to the film crew later,” Cao Zhiheng said as he packed his things. “My dad’s been complaining about stomach discomfort these past few days, so I’m taking him for a gastroscopy to see what’s going on.”

“Oh, is he alright?”

“He’s fine when he eats and drinks, just has occasional dull pain. I’m guessing it’s gastritis.”

“En, do a checkup to rest assured.”

Gu Lizhou glanced at the things on the table. They were already packed in a cardboard box, with a sticky note indicating the address and recipient.

Next to it was a temporary staff card, probably something needed to enter the film set.

“Have you been to the Film and Television City before? It’s pretty big. The ‘Capital City’ crew is over in Area A. Anyway, once you’re inside, you’ll see signs, and if worse comes to worst, just ask someone,” Cao Zhiheng said as he bent down to tie his shoelaces.

“I’m not retarded.” Gu Lizhou said.

Cao Zhiheng chuckled, “I’m just worried you’ll get lost. You absolutely have to deliver it before noon ah. They need it tonight, the props team will start setting the scene this afternoon.”

“En,” Gu Lizhou nodded. “Mission guaranteed.”

When Cao Zhiheng left, he took the car with him. As Gu Lizhou was having breakfast downstairs, he called for a Didi,³Brand of taxis you can call in advance, similar to Uber. and just as he put down his chopsticks, the car arrived on time.

The driver, a man wearing sunglasses, complained even before he got in, “Aiyo, this area’s full of potholes. The road’s really not good to drive on.”

It was currently the rainy season, and it rained continuously for several days in Yucheng. The Xicheng District looked like a post-apocalyptic wasteland, too miserable to see.

Today, the weather finally cleared up, and the air was filled with the fresh scent of damp grass. However, the roads were still slick, and mud had splattered on Gu Lizhou’s sneakers.

It was the same in the Film and Television City.

Private cars weren’t allowed inside, so Gu Lizhou had to sit by the roadside, holding the two large boxes, and make a phone call.

Across from him was a huge set resembling the streets of old Shanghai, where a film crew was shooting. A group of extras was holding protest banners and shouting loudly.

Even though he was separated from the crew by dozens of meters, he was still moved by the intense atmosphere.

He wasn’t sure if it was just his imagination, but the boy at the front of the crowd looked a bit familiar in profile.

“Bang, bang, bang—” Several gunshots rang out.

The boy’s knees went weak, and he collapsed onto the ground, his face hitting the muddy surface without any cushion.

Gu Lizhou’s heart tightened.

There was no protective on the ground, and the shot was done in one smooth take.

It looked painful just watching it.

The boy quickly got up, wiped his face, and moved aside.

Suddenly, a man wearing the exact same outfit as the boy appeared in front of the camera.

Surrounded by a group of staff members adjusting his clothes, this person knelt down on the ground.

After the second “action,” that golden face slowly fell toward the ground.

The camera lingered on a long close-up of his face.

When the director called “cut,” everyone cheered, and two makeup artists ran over to clean the lead actor’s face from the mud.

Gu Lizhou’s gaze followed the little stand-in among the crowd, watching him sit alone in a corner, scrubbing his face with bottled water.

Gu Lizhou looked up at the cloudless sky and inexplicably let out a sigh.

The entertainment industry really is cruel.

In fact, every circle is cruel.

There are only a few opportunities.

The rest can only continue to work hard in places where others can’t see.

After a series of five or six phone calls, someone from the film crew finally picked up.

“Sorry ah, we were busy just now. My phone was on silent, so I didn’t hear it. Where are you? I’ll come over and get it.”

Gu Lizhou gave his location, and as soon as he put down the phone, he saw a flamboyant figure leaning on a railing across the street, waving at him.

The scorching sunlight poured down, reddening the boy’s cheeks, and even the strands of his hair gleamed with light.

Droplets of water ran down his chin, slipping into his collar. The outfit, identical to the lead actor’s, accentuated his tall, slender figure.

That smile—it perfectly overlapped with the one Gu Lizhou had seen in his dream that morning.

Zhong Weishi raised both hands above his head, waving them back and forth, still holding the protest flag.

Because the crew had set up barricades for the shoot, he could only stand ten meters away and watch. When their eyes met, Zhong Weishi was unexpectedly enthusiastic.

“Are you here to watch me film!”

“…” It seemed like the retard’s problem couldn’t be changed.

Gu Lizhou let out a laugh. He walked over at a leisurely pace. “Yeah, are you the stand-in for the lead today?”

“Ah, I’m the stand-in for the second male lead,” Zhong Weishi, seeing someone he knew for the first time on set, was a bit excited, though not dumb enough to think Gu Lizhou actually came to watch him act. “What brings you here?”

Gu Lizhou pointed with his finger. “Helping a friend deliver some stuff to the crew. That was you up front earlier ah?”

“En.” Zhong Weishi nodded and smiled, showing no embarrassment despite his minor role. He shook the water from his hair. “One take! Handsome, right!”

“Handsome.”

Gu Lizhou noticed that Zhong Weishi had a small scr4p3 on his temple. He pulled out a semi-transparent band-aid from his wallet and handed it over. “Need one?”

Zhong Weishi wanted to say he couldn’t put it on yet since he had several more scenes to shoot, but his right hand instinctively reached out to take it. “Thanks ah, you’re just in time.”

Gu Lizhou smiled slightly, “You’re welcome.”

Hearing the assistant director calling for people, Zhong Weishi quickly dropped a “See you later!” before rushing off, as energetic as a young cheetah.

In a trance, Gu Lizhou seemed to see a reflection of his younger self in Zhong Weishi.

The sun overhead grew more intense.

Gu Lizhou lit a cigarette, squinting slightly as he watched that figure running tirelessly.

Many of the actors had messy hair and makeup, but Zhong Weishi’s long, agile limbs and energetic presence, along with his striking appearance, made him stand out in the crowd.

One scene was a gunfight, and the little cannon fodder played by Zhong Weishigets shot and fell directly from the second floor, landing on a dirty cushion.

When he got up, he held his lower back and kept rubbing it.

It looked like it hurt.

Gu Lizhou suddenly recalled Zhong Weishi’s embarrassed expression when he returned the new clothes to him.

“These clothes… I feel like I don’t really need to wear something so nice…”

He had really wanted to say at the time: ‘They definitely suit you.’

Unfortunately, he never saw him wear that T-shirt again.

Later that afternoon, Gu Lizhou received a call from the police station, informing him that Zhang Gou had been caught, but since they couldn’t reach Li Yuqin, they needed him to come down to the station for further details.

That visit ended up taking several hours.

Back at 303, Gu Lizhou was exhausted, collapsing onto his bed like a dead dog. He closed his eyes and let out a sigh.

Zhang Gou had confessed to his fraudulent activities, but he had spent all the money he scammed on anchor rewards and his remaining assets only added up to not more than 5,000 yuan.

Zhang Gou, an orphan since childhood with a low level of education, was a typical example of someone who lacked discipline and was greedy for money and lustful.

When the police entered the room, they were almost knocked out by the stench inside. Zhang Gou was in the middle of a heated chat with a female anchor on a video site. She was halfway through a sultry dance when the police cut the video.

“I really don’t have any money! Just shut it down. Anyway, I’m just one person. I don’t need to feed anyone else! It doesn’t matter where I stay. But seriously, I have no money left!”

Gu Lizhou had to say “murder is against the law” countless times before he could suppress the urge to strangle him on the spot.

300,000 yuan wasn’t a small amount of money. His mom would be devastated once she found out that none of it could be recovered.

She was the kind of person who would rather hide and cry in private than confide in others. She might even fall into depression over this.

They have to find a way to return the money to her.

He absentmindedly fiddled with the buttons on the remote control, his thoughts in disarray.

The money itself wasn’t the issue; the problem was how to return it.

It would be best to have someone else pretend to be a police officer and pass it on behalf of her.

Just then, another short knock sounded outside the door.

“Anyone home?”

“Wanna watch me do some Cat’s Cradle⁴It is a game involving the creation of various string figures between the fingers, either individually or by passing a loop of string back and forth between two or more players. ah?”

Gu Lizhou’s eyes curved into a smile, and his entire body seemed to come alive. “Sure!”

Zhong Weishi had been excited at first when he heard Zhang Gou was arrested, but when he learned the 300,000 yuan was gone, his expression immediately darkened.

“Do you know which streamer he rewarded?”

“Why, are you thinking of getting the money back from her ah?”

“Try and see.”

“The police already contacted her. Not long after the call, she deleted her account. She’s from out of town, thousands of miles away. Where would you even begin to look?”

Zhong Weishi was deeply disappointed, but after hearing Gu Lizhou’s plan, his eyes widened in disbelief. “You want me to impersonate a police officer to deceive someone ah? Isn’t that illegal!”

Gu Lizhou let out a ‘yo’, “So you actually know what the word ‘illegal’ means ah?”

“Of course. Last time, I swore to the heavens at the police station that I wouldn’t do bad things anymore. I’m not going.” Zhong Weishi said.

Gu Lizhou said, “You’re delivering money, not scamming people. It’s not illegal—it’s basically just cosplay. Besides, isn’t that your thing anyway?”

Zhong Weishi shot him a glance. “I’ve got a proper job.”

Gu Lizhou remained unbothered. “I’ll give you 200.”

“My appearance fee is 300 per job,” Zhong Weishi said, standing firm.

“Don’t push your luck ah.”

“500.”

“Despicable.”

“800!”

“….” Gu Lizhou gritted his teeth, barely holding back the word ‘shameless’ out of his throat.

After receiving his advance payment, Zhong Weishi was overjoyed, doing several fancy flips from room 303 all the way to the end of the corridor.

Gu Lizhou couldn’t fathom where someone could find so much energy to burn. He felt tired just lying around all day.

Ah, youth.

When Zhong Weishi flipped back, his head was drenched in sweat, and the band-aid on his temple was soaked, barely sticking to his skin.

Gu Lizhou felt uncomfortable just looking at it and hooked his finger.

Zhong Weishi walked over. “What’s up ah?”

When Gu Lizhou raised his arm, Zhong Weishi instinctively flinched back. “What are you doing?”

“Don’t move.”

Gu Lizhou peeled off the band-aid on Zhong Weishi’s temple and replaced it with a new one.

His fingertips were slightly cool, with a faint smell of smoke.

His action was unexpectedly gentle.

Zhong Weishi felt a bit dazed.

It was the first time in his life someone had ever put a band-aid on him, and it was a guy!

The proximity was so close, the atmosphere was hard to define whether it was strange or ambiguous. In short, it was subtle…

It made one unconsciously hold their breath.

He even thought, somewhat inappropriately: If this were a scene in a TV drama, the next step would probably be a kiss!

“Work is so exhausting, and you get hurt so easily. Have you thought about switching jobs?” Gu Lizhou’s voice was soft, like sunlight, delicate and gentle.

“I just like filming.”

Zhong Weishi looked up, meeting Gu Lizhou’s deep, dark eyes. He even noticed a tiny mole hidden beneath his eyebrow.

Alright, this was definitely fvcking ambiguous!

Gu Lizhou had double eyelids too, but it was unlike Zhong Weishi’s slightly drooping, peach-blossom eyes.

His eyes were narrow, long and slightly hooded, giving off a lazy and nonchalant vibe, always making him seem like he hadn’t fully woken up. But once he was fully awake… you’d realize his gaze was sincere and focused, as if he could see through every little thought.

Just like now.

Zhong Weishi blinked nervously a couple of times and quickly looked away.

“Your health is the most important.” Gu Lizhou smoothed out the band-aid and flicked Zhong Weishi’s forehead with his index finger. “All done.”

Zhong Weishi let out an ‘ow’, rubbed his forehead, and then touched the band-aid. After thanking him, he turned and left without daring to look back.

The setting sun bathed the sky in a warm orange-red hue.

Gu Lizhou watched the slender figure walking away and hooked his lips.

No matter how cruel the world may be, it can’t stop those determined steps.

Because there is always light ahead.

“Come in and have a seat.” Cao Zhiheng opened the door and began clearing the various props off the sofa. “It’s a bit messy ah, hope you don’t mind.”

“It’s fine, it’s fine.”

Zhong Weishi had lived here for many years, but this was the first time he had been properly invited into someone’s apartment. He glanced around and thought to himself that an artist’s world… really was messier than usual.

Cao Zhiheng had a kind face and was quick to strike up a conversation, which made him seem much more approachable than Zhong Weishi had imagined.

“Are you making props for a film crew ah?” Zhong Weishi asked.

“Yo, sharp eye, you can tell at a glance ah.” Cao Zhiheng laughed. “Most people assume I’m a carpenter at first glance.”

Zhong Weishi chuckled, picking up a small wooden jewelry box with a label from the film crew stuck underneath: “The Best Inn in the Capital.”

He had some impression of this TV show; the director He Gu was quite famous in the circle. Someone in the group chat had mentioned that filming would start soon, but then there had been no updates. What a coincidence—this artist was actually making props for that production?

“The stuff is quite exquisite. This must have taken quite a bit of time to make?”

“Not too bad. The one you’re holding took about two weeks to finish. The intricate carving work on the hollow parts was the most time-consuming,” Cao Zhiheng said.

“Is the drama already being filmed now?” Zhong Weishi asked.

“Uh, yeah, just started last week.” Cao Zhiheng poured him a cup of warm water.

“Thanks.”

Previously, Zhong Weishi had only ever exchanged nods with him, but after a bit of conversation, he found that this person’s personality was quite good. He asked, “Then, are you familiar with the crew’s coordinator? The one in charge of casting actors.”

“Quite familiar ah, why? Do you want to audition ah? The lead roles have already been cast, and they usually recruit those well in advance,” Cao Zhiheng said.

“No, no, no,” Zhong Weishi waved his hand, “I was just asking casually. If they happen to be short on extras or small supporting roles, do you think you could maybe help introduce me? I can do wire stunts, flips, play a corpse—anything!”

Ancient martial arts dramas often required a lot of wirework. It wasn’t that the new generation of actors weren’t willing to put in the effort; they just hadn’t mastered the skills yet. As soon as they were hoisted up, they’d start flailing and screaming, making some scenes better suited for professional stunt doubles to save time and effort.

Cao Zhiheng nodded, “Sure ah, I’ll ask around for you later.”

Zhong Weishi was so excited that his face lit up with joy. “Then, thank you so much! Let’s add each other as friends!”

“Okay.” Cao Zhiheng took out his phone.

Zhong Weishi quickly asked, “What’s your Wi-Fi password, by the way?”

The two were engrossed in conversation when the sound of running water in the bathroom suddenly stopped.

Zhong Weishi paused for a moment, reminded of his main reason for coming over tonight. He turned his head to look.

A man’s bare upper body unexpectedly came into his view.

Gu Lizhou, who usually lived alone, didn’t have the habit of bringing a pile of clothes into the bathroom with him. So when he came to Cao Zhiheng’s place, it was no different for him—it felt as casual as being at home, free of restraints.

After showering, he didn’t bother drying his hair, so it hung wet and dripping. A light gray striped towel was slung loosely around his neck. He was wrapped in a white bath towel around his waist, but it was so loose that it looked like it might fall off after just a few steps.

Zhong Weishi’s first reaction was that this guy actually had a pretty good physique.

The muscles on his arms weren’t particularly bulky, but the lines were well-defined. His chest was slightly flushed from the hot water, and droplets of water from his hair trickled down his chest and abs. His whole body seemed to still be surrounded by the warmth of the steam, and the faint outline of his V-lines disappeared beneath the bath towel.

“Give me a minute, I’ll put on some clothes,” Gu Lizhou said, wiping his hair.

“Oh.” Zhong Weishi hurriedly looked away.

Gu Lizhou walked over to them, took a sip of water, and then turned to head toward the bedroom. Zhong Weishi’s eyes uncontrollably followed him again.

Was he not wearing underwear?

Above that was a sharply defined waistline…

There was a large black tattoo on his slightly protruding shoulder blade. Before Zhong Weishi could make out the design, Gu Lizhou had already shut the door behind him.

Seeing how wide-eyed Zhong Weishi was, Cao Zhiheng couldn’t help but wave his hand and tease him, “What are you staring at? Into guys, are you?”

Zhong Weishi immediately retorted, “No, I just thought I saw a tattoo on him.”

“So what if he has a tattoo?” Cao Zhiheng chuckled. “Haven’t you seen him? He smokes, gets perms, and has tattoos, but he’s not a bad guy.”

“I didn’t mean that.” Zhong Weishi lowered his head and muttered softly like a mosquito, “I do think that he’s a nice person.”

Only when he reached for the mug next to him to take a sip, did he realized… it was empty.

Cao Zhiheng laughed apologetically, “Sorry, all the cups here look the same. Let me wash it and pour you another one.”

Zhong Weishi put the cup back down as if he’d pinched a hot potato. “No, no, it’s fine. I won’t drink…”

Then he suddenly realized something. “I mean, I’m not bothered by it… I’m just not thirsty.”

God ah! What the hell was he talking about!

Zhong Weishi felt like a white soul was floating out of the back of his head and hovering above him.

Cao Zhiheng let out a laugh and didn’t say anything.

“What’s up?” Gu Lizhou emerged from the bedroom, still fastening the waistband of his pants. Dressed in a simple sports outfit with his bangs hanging down, he looked like he was only in his 20s.

“Oh, about that,” The moment Zhong Weishi met Gu Lizhou’s gaze, all the lines he’d been rehearsing along the way got stuck in his throat. “These clothes, I feel like I don’t really need to dress up this much…”

“Want to return it?” Gu Lizhou saw through him instantly.

“Ah…” Zhong Weishi nodded in relief. “Did you keep the receipt? I’ll take it to the mall tomorrow and check.”

“Nope.” Gu Lizhou answered quickly.

Cao Zhiheng figured it out, his eyes suspicious: “Wait, you bought him those clothes ah? You ripped his clothes? How’d you break it ah?”

Gu Lizhou didn’t deny it, pouring some water into his cup. “If you don’t want to wear it, just give it away.”

Cao Zhiheng glanced at Zhong Weishi, then at his brother, sensing something unusual.

Zhong Weishi’s eyes widened.

Like he’d give it away!

Never mind how expensive this shirt was, even if it was worth just 20 yuan, he wouldn’t give it away…

In this world, aside from Grandma Zhao, no one else had ever bought him clothes.

Naturally, he couldn’t just accept the gift without reciprocating. Zhong Weishi had just searched for the brand on Taobao and saw the retail price.

A 9% discount still made it over 800 yuan.

He looked up, determined: “Give me some paper and a pen.”

Cao Zhiheng, realizing he was going to write an IOU, quickly said, “Xiao Didi, it’s just a piece of clothing, no need for that.”

Gu Lizhou immediately put on a ‘Does laozi looks like a person who lacks that little money?’ expression, waving it off. “En, there’s really no need.”

Zhong Weishi looked at him, “Don’t be stubborn with me! I’m someone who’s always had my own principles. I don’t like casually owing people favors.”

Cao Zhiheng, the fence-sitter, immediately switched sides: “Yes, yes, yes, owing someone a favor is the hardest to repay. Old Gu! If he wants to repay you, just let him.”

Gu Lizhou thought this stupid kid must have drunk too much of the fake alcohol. Wasn’t he usually pretty happy when taking advantage of him?

It wasn’t like he bought the clothes today for the purpose of giving away favors.

But while he hesitated, Cao Zhiheng had already handed over paper and pen, buzzing in Zhong Weishi’s ear like a bee: “Just a little gesture will do ah, don’t take it too seriously. When dealing with a stupid rich bastard like him, we’d be fools if we don’t pit him.”

The stupid rich bastard kicked him.

Gu Lizhou didn’t even care about what Zhong Weishi was writing, until he put the pen down and dashed out the door, then he squinted to make out the barely-legible scribbles that generously called themselves words.

“Happiness Annual Card

With this card, you can watch my talent show 100 times for free.”

It was signed with a ridiculously cheeky smiley face, with an additional note drawn beside it: “Heihei, I have no money!”

Gu Lizhou held his forehead, laughing so hard his shoulders shook.

 

Zhong Weishi looked at the new T-shirt in his hand, somewhat in disbelief. Turning his head in astonishment, he asked, “This, this, you bought this for me ah?”

Gu Lizhou still had a cigarette hanging from his lips, his expression looking relaxed. “Otherwise?”

Zhong Weishi stared at the small flicker of the cigarette tip, still in a daze, and then heard him say, “Hurry up and change. That shirt you’re wearing is an eyesore.”

Zhong Weishi glanced back and tugged at his shirt. If Gu Lizhou hadn’t reminded him, he would’ve forgotten that it was torn.

A’Wei had just noticed the two slits in Zhong Weishi’s shirt. “Did it get ripped when you got caught on the fence ah?”

“En.” Zhong Weishi subconsciously glanced at the price tag and shuddered in shock.

What the heck ah! A dragon robe!

“It’s too expensive,” Zhong Weishi felt certain he couldn’t afford it, looking up and asking, “Can I still get a refund for this?”

Qiangzi and his gang also swarmed over to check the price tag, shouting a string of expletives: “898!”

“What?” Da Fei leaned over in shock.

Gu Lizhou lowered one arm, flicking the ash off his cigarette, and casually said, “It was bought on sale. Consider it a gift, a welcome present from your new neighbor.”

Qiangzi, grinning cheekily, sidled up. “Ge, look, my shirt’s torn too!”

A bunch of people yelled as they pulled on their clothes, “Ours is torn too!”

Gu Lizhou: “…”

Zhong Weishi elbowed Qiangzi and the others back, “Have some face?”

“Beep beep—” A car horn honked twice from across the street, and someone stuck their head out.

“Old Gu.”

It was Cao Zhiheng.

Gu Lizhou stubbed out the half-burnt cigarette, tilting his head slightly. “I’m heading out.”

Zhong Weishi, still in a daze, muttered an “oh,” but by the time he remembered to say thank you, the other had already gotten into his car and disappeared from sight.

The T-shirt was immediately snatched by A’Wei, passed around like a game of hot potato among the group.

It had a simple design: pure white, with a pair of ash-gray wings extending from the collar to both shoulders.

It was bold and had a lot of personality.

It was completely different from the style of clothes Gu Lizhou usually wore, and it seemed like he had picked this one especially for Zhong Weishi.

“Not gonna lie ah, expensive clothes really do have different materials ah. Feels super nice to the touch.”

“That’s just how it felt ah…”

“Didn’t he say he bought it on sale? It shouldn’t be that expensive.”

Zhong Weishi calculated. Even if the fvcking boss ran away and slashed the prices to rock-bottom, a discount would still mean 90 yuan for one shirt.

90 yuan. That was enough for him to buy a dozen shirts at the small goods market!

And this clearly wasn’t some street stall item. No way this came from a place where the boss bailed and sold stuff with a very large discounted price.

“Hey! Stop touching it with those greasy hands, you’re getting it all over the shirt.” Zhong Weishi snatched the T-shirt back from Qiangzi.

“I wiped my hands before touching it.” Qiangzi clicked his tongue repeatedly. “Look at how precious you love it so dearly. It’s just a piece of rag! Brothers, when I get rich, the first thing I’ll do is buy you two of these 898 ones—one to wear, the other to use as a rag!”

Zhong Weishi laughed. “Retard.”

The car sped along the bustling streets, the window on the passenger side rolled down. Gu Lizhou’s hair was blowing wildly in the wind. Though the sky had darkened, the cityscape outside was still bright and lively.

The words from Old Li at the police station had unintentionally hit a sore spot for him.

Before he knew it, he was already 32 ah.

How many 32 years could one have in life?

It was now June, exactly five years since he had announced his retirement from writing.

Gu Lizhou had loved reading since he was a child, and during his first year of university, he became obsessed with writing.

His highest record was writing non-stop for an entire week without sleep. He could enter the fantasy world he had built at anytime and anywhere, controlling the fates and emotions of his characters.

He was hot-blooded, exhilarated, and sleepless.

At 20, an age where one didn’t know heat from cold, full of youthful vigor, he was like a cactus growing in the desert—thriving wildly even without the nourishment of rain.

He was obsessed with creating, to the point where even his dreams were immersed in his fiction world.

While most students were still daydreaming about when they’d have their first sweet sweet romance, he had already signed with Xinghe Century and become an online writer.

He poured all his energy into his work, constantly acquiring new knowledge in the library, seeking thrills in distant travels, and amassing wave after wave of readers.

He felt like there was never enough time. Even sleeping four or five hours a day gave him a guilty feeling, as if he were wasting time.

He was in a rush to grow, to graduate, to gain more free time.

At 26, he reached his peak.

His fifth full-length novel achieved over a hundred million clicks and more than a million favorites on the site, making him the top writing god at Xinghe Century.

What did these figures mean?

It meant that the combined numbers of those ranked second through tenth didn’t even come close to matching his.

But human energy is ultimately limited, like a burning candle—the brighter the flame, the faster it burns. By the time he realized his body had some problems, it was already too late.

It started with minor ailments such as gastritis, enteritis, cervical spondylitis, mouth sores, eye pain. His weight plummeted.

“You can’t sit for long periods.”

“You can’t be on the computer all the time.”

“Your eyes need rest.”

He knew all of the doctor’s advice, but he couldn’t stop.

Countless people were watching him, waiting for him, and behind him, countless authors were chasing after him.

Who wouldn’t want to stay at the top for just a little longer?

It was like those people constantly challenging and setting the Guinness World Records.

Top-tier creative talents are often madmen.

He continued to relentlessly pour his time and energy into the world of his novels.

If there wasn’t enough time, he cut off his social life. If he didn’t have the energy, he made up for it with more sleep.

But the continuous onset of symptoms began to torment his will.

Herniated discs, shoulder and neck pain, migraines, vitreous floaters—each new condition felt like a warning from above.

One day, he woke up to a persistent buzzing sound in his ears.

The doctor said, “This is noise-induced tinnitus. Have you been suffering from insomnia? Staying up late? Young people shouldn’t always stay up late.”

“You’re too thin. Eat more, exercise more, building up your body is key.”

“If you continue like this, your body will collapse.”

How painful is noise-induced tinnitus?

It feels like cicadas perched by your ear, buzzing incessantly for 24 hours without a break, driving a person to irritability and making it impossible to focus.

And focus is exactly what creativity demands.

It’s not like working on an assembly line, where you can just clock in and out.

It requires constant accumulation, new experiences for stimulation, and bursts of inspiration.

The sudden onset of tinnitus was like a final warning from above—you must rest.

His worsening condition forced him to slow down.

“It’s been almost a month since the break ah. This isn’t fun to follow anymore.”

“Can you at least respect the readers waiting for updates ah? How many times has he taken breaks in these three months?”

“Fame really changes people ah.”

“I think that’s all there is to the writing. Seems like he’s out of ideas.”

People fear fame, just as pigs fear getting fat;¹Pigs fear getting fat for slaughter. The meaning for the two phrases is that fame has its price. and it’s the same in every industry.

At that time, Gu Lizhou adjusted his mindset quickly, accepted the criticisms with a smile, and apologized to his readers. Once his tinnitus was treated, he didn’t go on hiatus again.

Until the emergence of that sensational incident that shocked the whole internet happened.

#Famous Author Wanlizhou Molested Female Fans#

#Wanlizhou Hotel Photos#

#Wanlizhou’s Real Name#

#Wanlizhou’s Horrible Character#

#Wanlizhou Plagiarized Enneagram#

#Wanlizhou and Nine-Star Were Schoolmates#

…

This was a premeditated power struggle.

The “evidence” from the other party was solid, catching him completely off guard.

It was at that moment that Gu Lizhou truly experienced the cruelty of human heart and the coldness of human nature—far more terrifying than anything in the world of his novels.

Fame is like water in the ocean.

Water can carry a boat, but it can also capsize one.

Overnight, he became notorious.

Though his team swiftly responded with public relations, refuting all plagiarism claims, hiring the most renowned legal team to defend him in court, and even getting the female fan to release a video clarifying the situation, they couldn’t stop the spread of rumors.

“After molesting a female fan, Wanlizhou threatened her to delete her post.” “Female fan develops severe depression from harassment.” “Wanlizhou only became famous through hype.” Eye-catching headlines like these appeared one after another.

Just like how people immediately think of Sun Wukong when hearing the name Liuxiaolingtong, many online users now associate the name “Wanlizhou” with the molestation of female fans and plagiarism of works.

Through the screen, it was impossible to distinguish between truth and lies, but curiosity is an innate human trait.

The fans on both sides tore each other apart.

Nine-Star’s work shot up from seventh to second place in terms of clicks.

A person who is obsessed with creating can endure the loneliness of long nights, withstand physical problems, and tolerate harsh reader critiques.

But there would still come a moment when it all became overwhelmingly crushing.

It felt like he had just gone through a sudden tsunami, draining all his passion and energy. As he quietly gazed at the devastated world around him, he suddenly felt… tired, and weary, like he didn’t want to continue anymore.

On June 10th, a 4.8 million-word fantasy novel titled “Wraiths” was marked complete, and the author posted a handwritten long-term leave notice on Weibo.

Eight years of time summarized in 800 words, laid down on a single sheet of paper.

The last sentence read: “Thank you for your trust, thank you for your companionship. Until we meet again, if fate allows.”

The handwriting was bold, graceful, and forceful.

What seemed like a few light words were like an invisible gate that completely severed the past from the present.

A large group of fans cried out.

The story of Wanlizhou was thus sealed away in the memory chest of a generation.

That once proud peak of his career had become the most unspeakable chapter of his past in the end.

If someone were to ask him, after his health improved, would he ever write again?

His answer would be no.

A legend is still a legend; better to leave it unbroken.

But no matter how many years pass, he will always miss the things he once loved and was so passionate about.

If asked, does he have any regrets?

The answer would differ at different stages.

His eyes warmed as the craving for a cigarette crept up again.

Gu Lizhou reached into his pants pocket for his cigarettes.

Cao Zhiheng glanced at him. “Don’t smoke in my car ah. My girlfriend will smell it and accuse me again.”

Gu Lizhou sighed and reluctantly put it back in his pocket.

“Got something on your mind?” Cao Zhiheng easily saw through him.

Gu Lizhou leaned his elbow on the edge of the window, resting his chin on his hand, muttering to himself, “Nothing much, just feels like something’s missing in life.”

“Missing a partner!” Cao Zhiheng blurted out.

Gu Lizhou acted as if he hadn’t heard.

Cao Zhiheng continued, “I’m serious, don’t doubt me. Girlfriends are such wonderful creatures. If not that, maybe get a proper job—it’s really easy to get depressed when you overthink too much…”

Once Cao Zhiheng started talking, there was no stopping him, but Gu Lizhou’s thoughts drifted far away, carried by the wind.

“My main job is acting. On the side… I’m a model, a waiter, a campus errand runner, a food critic, and an ambassador for promoting agricultural products…”

“Qiangzi said we should celebrate…”

“After a trip to the police station, we came out safe and sound ah! Isn’t that something worth celebrating?”

He looks so happy and fulfilled.

He and the people around him all seemed so happy.

Gu Lizhou was a little envious.

After the late-night gathering ended, Qiangzi drove Zhong Weishi back to the neighbourhood.

Qiangzi had drunk quite a bit, and Zhong Weishi felt concerned, “Drive carefully on the road ah. Send me a message when you get home.”

“What’s the point of sending a message if you haven’t topped up your phone?” Huangfu Qiang laughed.

Zhong Weishi chuckled, “I’ll top it up as soon as I get back.”

Now that the lights in the hallway were fixed, Zhong Weishi was still quite unaccustomed to it. At night, he could clearly see the rows of small ads… and Er’Gou’s picture.

He walked over, tore down the missing person flyer, and crumpled it into a ball. When he was about to toss it away, he remembered the bundle of sticks, so he stuffed the paper ball into his pocket instead.

People are really different from each other.

Even though he occasionally saw big stars on set, there was rarely an opportunity to exchange even a greeting, so he didn’t feel much impact from it.

But after Gu Lizhou appeared in this place, Zhong Weishi truly felt the gap between the rich and the poor; not just in money.

Cultural standards, moral character, family upbringing… these things, ingrained deep into one’s bones, shape a complete soul and at the same time form a person’s unique temperament.

If he had a family, would he be a different Zhong Weishi?

Would it be better than now?

“Knock knock knock—”

Cao Zhiheng opened the door and was immediately hit by the smell of alcohol. The boy’s cheeks were flushed, so he should have drunk a lot.

“What’s wrong?” He asked.

Zhong Weishi licked his lips and glanced inside, “Uh, is Gu Lizhou here?”

Cao Zhiheng: “He’s taking a bath.”

Zhong Wei Shi let out an “Oh”. He was just about to say he’d come back later, but Cao Zhiheng had already turned and yelled towards the bathroom, “Old Gu, the kid from 301 is looking for you.”

“Looking for me for what?”

The soundproofing of the bathroom wasn’t good, and Gu Lizhou’s voice was mixed with the sound of a stream of water: “Tell him to wait, I’m in the middle of a shower.”

“He asked you to wait,” Cao Zhiheng said.

Zhong Weishi grinned, showing his teeth, “I heard him.”