Category: His Character Isn’t Quite Right (Page 1 of 4)

Gu Lizhou replied to the message, then stood by the windowsill and stretched lazily.

Cao Zhiheng helped him bring in a few pieces of clothing and folded them, casually asking, “Did you tell the little brother that you’re leaving?”

“I did.”

“You did? You two are usually as inseparable as conjoined twins—why isn’t he seeing you off?”

Cao Zhiheng’s words made him dazed for a couple of seconds.

Close.

That word carried an inexplicable sense of intimacy, like hearing someone say when you were young that a certain teacher praised you in the office, inevitably giving you a slight fondness for that teacher.

Were the two of them considered close?

Probably.

Zhong Weishi seemed to call him for everything.

No one had ever treated him like that before. Even in the school dormitory, no one relied on him so much.

Now, suddenly having to return to the life of a lonely old man, he was a bit unaccustomed to it.

Gu Lizhou sighed, “He has to go to the set to film, it’s not like he doesn’t know the way—what’s the point of seeing me off?”

Zhong Weishi sent another sticker: two chubby little pandas hugging each other.

Gu Lizhou smiled. He didn’t usually chat much, and all the stickers he had saved were from his conversations with Zhong Weishi. After scrolling through for a while, he picked a sticker of a cat making a heart gesture and sent it.

These were the little stickers Zhong Weishi often sent when asking him to bring supper.

Who wouldn’t like a friend who was always full of enthusiasm and could bring laughter?

For the first time, Gu Lizhou found himself reluctant to leave.

At one o’clock in the afternoon.

The scorching sun hung overhead as Gu Lizhou sat in the taxi. The traffic radio station was broadcasting road conditions—an accident somewhere, roadwork somewhere else, and recommendations for drivers to take detours.

His ears were filled with noise, but his thoughts were entirely elsewhere.

Cheng Hang mentioned that he would be flying to over a dozen places for inspiration and wasn’t sure if he could make it back for the birthday. If he couldn’t return, he wondered if Zhong Weishi would be willing to go to City B…

To spend his birthday with him.

And maybe do a bit of touring…

While waiting in line to get his boarding pass, two young girls in front were chatting excitedly about a newly debuted star.

Feeling bored, Gu Lizhou opened his photo album on his phone.

He suddenly realized that he had quite a few short videos related to Zhong Weishi.

It made him feel like an old father recording his son’s growth moments.

The first clip was of Zhong Weishi doing a somersault and a handstand on the balcony. When zoomed in, one could see a medicinal patch on his spine, and every time he got close, there was a faint smell of medicine.

Next was the day of the square dancing, where Zhong Weishi pulled Da Fei to dance a yangko. There was also a photo of Zhong Weishi stuck on the railing and unable to get down, followed by him playing with the yo-yo…

And a photo from the day he got scratched by the cat.

He kept bumping into things every few days—Gu Lizhou wondered if his family would feel sorry seeing all this.

Would they?

Would parents who abandoned their child feel any remorse?

Or maybe, like Huangfu Qiang’s family, they had some kind of unavoidable hardship?

“So tragic, the ‘Xiao Ying’ crew must be cursed or something. I remember there was an accident during the first film too—the lead actor almost got burned to death.”

“Ah ya ya… That part that flew out, was it an arm ah…”

“Ugh—I’m not sure, maybe not. It could be some prop from the scene. But you see, that person hasn’t gotten up for a long time, even if they’re not dead, they’re probably crippled.”

“Good thing it was just a stunt double. If it were the lead actor getting disfigured, it’s over.”

“The stunt double is pitiful too ah! Hopefully, they’re okay.”

The moment he heard the word “stunt double,” Gu Lizhou’s heart clenched tightly. He turned his head to look at the screen on the girl’s phone.

It was a short Weibo video, and judging by the quality, it seemed to have been unintentionally filmed from a distance.

The girl’s fingertips swiped across the screen. Gu Lizhou, flustered and almost incoherent, stammered, “Excuse me, can I-can I take another look at that news, that short video? Who got hurt?”

“I don’t recognize ah.” The girl, seeing his face clearly, blushed and went back to the previous post. “Just a stunt double…”

Entertainment Fresh Report V: During the filming of “Xiao Ying II” at Yucheng Film & Television City, an accident occurred while shooting an explosion scene. The stunt double for lead actor Cheng Yue was blown out of the car, and the scene was horrifying…

The video was blurry, but it showed a figure in a uniform being blasted out of the car and collapsing on the ground, unmoving. A large crowd immediately rushed over, blocking the camera.

Gu Lizhou’s chest felt burning hot, his gaze shimmering with moisture.

“Do you still want to watch?” The girl turned her head, only to see the man staring at the screen in a daze, his eyes red.

It seemed… it seemed like he was about to cry.

Gu Lizhou’s breathing became rapid, and his mind raced to piece together several key phrases: “Do you know Cheng Yue?” “I’m his stunt double ah.” “Lots of explosion scenes.” “People can get blasted away…”

He couldn’t seem to catch his breath.

The temperature in the airport lobby was low, but cold sweat quickly covered his back. His trembling fingers repeatedly tapped the video on the screen, his mind blank.

In a daze, he seemed to hear the boy’s voice next to his ear: “Anyway, don’t forget about me, okay? I’ll always let you know wherever I go…”

He had just sent him a message that morning.

He had clearly said he would come to pick him up.

Zhong Weishi was only 22!

He hadn’t even started his life yet!

“Are you okay?” The girl noticed that he was trembling all over, tears streaming down his face. Worried, she patted his shoulder. “Are you feeling unwell? Ah?”

“Where is that film crew?” Gu Lizhou was so anxious he could hardly breathe. Only after asking did he realize that it was a useless question.

No one here would know.

No one in the comments knew how Zhong Weishi was doing—after all, he was just a little stunt double.

Apart from him, no one knew or cared.

Gu Lizhou’s hands trembled as he unlocked his phone, tapping the contacts list several times before finally hitting the right spot. His legs were so weak that he could only squat on the ground.

When he saw the words “Little Beast” on the screen, tears surged up uncontrollably. He wiped the tears off the screen and dialed the number.

He kept praying in his heart that nothing bad had happened.

“The number you have dialed is powered off…”

He slumped to the ground, the massive suitcase crashing heavily onto his thigh.

Dizziness hit him.

It felt as if all his cells had died in that instant.

It wasn’t the first time Gu Lizhou had experienced this feeling. The summer of his first year in high school, when the homeroom teacher informed him that his grandfather had passed away. It was the same…

Cold, panicked, helpless, and desperate.

Like someone had drained all his strength.

After storing his suitcase, he ignored all the gazes and sounds around him and sprinted madly in the opposite direction.

The sun outside the airport was scorching, the air suffocating hot. As soon as he stepped out, his T-shirt was soaked with sweat.

He hailed an airport taxi, but when the driver asked where he was heading, he was at a loss.

Where?

The Film & Television City was enormous—he didn’t know where the crew was.

He froze for a couple of seconds before suddenly looking up. “The hospital! The nearest hospital to Yucheng Film & Television City!”

The Film & Television City was nearly 150 kilometers away from the airport. Drivers rarely took trips there. After checking on his phone, the driver asked, “Is it the Fifth People’s Hospital?”

At this point, Gu Lizhou could only nod.

Once the car started moving, he began searching for hospitals near the Film & Television City. Besides the Fifth People’s Hospital, there were several others within a five-kilometer radius.

He sent several WeChat messages to Zhong Weishi, but there was no reply. Then, he opened Weibo, hoping to find updates about the incident.

He had been in such a hurry earlier that he hadn’t paid attention to when it happened—maybe about two hours ago?

What was the keyword again?

His heart had been pounding like a drum the whole time, as if it were about to explode.

The trending topics on Weibo were all about celebrities gaining weight, losing weight, laughing, or crying. Frustrated, he pounded his thigh hard.

How could something involving a human life not make the hot searches!

He scrolled through the real-time trending list for a long time but couldn’t find that post, so he searched for “Cheng Yue’s stunt double” and found the previous Weibo post.

The comments were mostly expressing sympathy for Zhong Weishi, though there were also a few discordant voices.

User 285724: If he dies, the crew will be in big trouble with compensation.

The replies were filled with people cursing.

Gu Lizhou rubbed his nose, exited Weibo, and opened Zhong Weishi’s Moments.

He wanted to see his smile again, to hear his voice.

There was still that half-used talent show coupon tucked into his phone case.

Would he ever get to use it?

It shouldn’t be the memento he leaves behind.

The driver noticed his odd mood, as if there were tear stains on his face. “Broke up with someone?”

Gu Lizhou couldn’t hear him at all, and a few pessimistic thoughts popped into his mind.

If Zhong Weishi was really gone, he’d find a good plot and give him a proper burial.

If he’d lost a limb, he’d take him back to B City, hire a caregiver to look after him.

If his face was ruined, he’d find a way to get it fixed and see if he could return to the entertainment industry. If not, he’d just support him—after all, he wasn’t short on money.

Once someone prepares themselves for the worst, their heart somehow feels a bit lighter.

Gu Lizhou suddenly thought of something and frantically called Cao Zhiheng.

“Are you sure he’s at the hospital? Which one?”

“If I knew, I wouldn’t need you. I’m heading to the Fifth People’s Hospital right now. You go check out the other nearby hospitals around the Film & Television City. I’ll call you when I get there.”

“Okay, okay, okay.” Cao Zhiheng hung up, tossed the spatula aside, turned off the gas, and rushed downstairs without even bothering to lock the door.

Holding onto a glimmer of hope, Gu Lizhou kept dialing Zhong Weishi’s phone number, but it was still powered off.

Did he drop it at the set? Why hadn’t anyone picked it up?

At least give him a bit of information ah.

Could it be that the phone was blown up too…

Cao Zhiheng ran through several emergency rooms at nearby hospitals but didn’t find Zhong Weishi. Gu Lizhou, drenched in sweat, also came out of the Fifth People’s Hospital.

“Anything on your side?”

“Nothing ah. I’ve checked all the emergency rooms at the nearby hospitals, but he’s not there. Maybe it’s not that serious, don’t worry too much.”

“How could it not be serious!”

Gu Lizhou recalled that video. That person had been blasted out of the car without any protection, couldn’t even get up, and his pant leg was still on fire.

“Hey, don’t yell at me ah. Didn’t you say it didn’t make the hot searches? It shouldn’t be too big of a deal. You know what they say, ‘scourge live long…’”

“You’re the scourge!” Gu Lizhou snapped, words slipping out without thought. “He’s only 22! Just a brat ah, a brat! What does he know? If the director tells him to do it, he’ll do it. With such a dangerous stunt, if the director pushes him, he’d just grit his teeth and go through with it ah! What else could he do?”

Cao Zhiheng, now feeling nervous too, stammered, “It can’t be that bad, right? The director wouldn’t really force him if he didn’t dare…”

“Why not? You don’t know him at all! He’s already been to the police station twice! When he got into heat of the moment, he just goes for it! Now it’s too late to regret it!” Gu Lizhou was so angry his liver hurt. “That damn director—just wants to make a name for himself and doesn’t treat the actors like people. Insists on realistic special effects—if something really happened, I’ll make sure he dies in a very realistic way! Let him prepare to be ruined!”

It was the first time Cao Zhiheng had ever heard Gu Lizhou so furious, and he was left dumbfounded, breaking out into a cold sweat himself.

“Old Gu, Old Gu, calm down first. Things might not be as bad as you think…”

“I can’t calm down right now!”

“Then stay agitated, but listen to my analysis first ah. Usually, with such a life-threatening incident, even if it’s someone from the 108th tier, it would have already made it to the hot searches ah. The official Weibo of the crew hasn’t posted anything, and neither have the marketing accounts…” As Cao Zhiheng was speaking, Gu Lizhou suddenly received a call.

Caller ID — Little Beast

Gu Lizhou’s eyes widened instantly, cutting off Cao Zhiheng’s analysis in a flash. He stammered, “Hello? Where are you? Is it really you?”

“Who else would it be if not me?”

The moment Gu Lizhou heard that familiar voice, his heart dropped back to where it belonged—at least he didn’t need to buy a burial plot anymore.

“Which hospital are you at? Why can’t I find you? Are you okay? Are you hurt anywhere?” He fired off a series of questions, then thought he should stabilize the little beast’s emotions and quickly added, “Don’t worry, I’m coming right over. No matter how big the issue is, I’ll handle it.”

Zhong Weishi frowned, “I’m at home ah. What hospital? You’re looking for me…” His voice suddenly cut off.

“Hello? Hello?” Gu Lizhou glanced at the screen and almost fainted from frustration.

The phone had run out of battery.

But being able to hear his voice was already good news.

What did that little beast just say?

At home?

Forty minutes later, almost everyone on the entire floor of Lanshan Apartments heard what sounded like the roar of a furious dragon.

“Zhong Weishi!—”

“Little beast! You’ve got some nerve! Why didn’t you pick up my calls!!! Ah??”

Zhong Weishi was completely dumbfounded, his eyes wide like copper bells. The first thing out of his mouth was, “Hey, didn’t you blast off to the skies?”

Clenching his fists, Gu Lizhou’s chest rose and fell with his heavy breathing.

After exchanging information, the two finally realized it was a massive misunderstanding.

Early in the morning, Zhong Weishi hurried to the set of “When I Met You in My Youth” to audition. There were over a hundred people auditioning along with him, and by the time it was his turn and he was done, it was already past noon. He grabbed a quick meal near the Film & Television City, and Qiangzi asked him to help move some things.

After finishing up, he was exhausted and overheated. He took a car back home and dozed off for a bit, leaving his phone charging on the bedside table.

His crappy phone not only took two hours to charge for five minutes of call time but also didn’t have an auto-reboot feature. When he woke up, he found over a dozen missed calls.

Still groggy, he called back… only to find that Gu Lizhou’s phone was now off.

He figured it might be because Gu Lizhou had to turn off his phone for the flight, so he didn’t think much of it.

It wasn’t until this man suddenly showed up at the door of apartment 301 that he was stunned, wondering if Gu Lizhou couldn’t bear to leave and decided to stay. Before he could feel happy, Gu Lizhou started yelling at him.

He really felt aggrieved.

Cao Zhiheng let out a sigh of relief. “Aiyo, I told you it wasn’t a big deal, but you wouldn’t listen to me. Look, isn’t he just fine? You’re always worrying over nothing.”

“What do you mean I worry over nothing ah? Then what was that video about? Who was the one flying out ah?” Gu Lizhou asked.

When Zhong Weishi saw the video, he didn’t know whether to cry or laugh. “That’s a dummy ah. How could they let a real person perform such a dangerous explosion scene?”

“Huh?” Gu Lizhou’s mouth twisted in frustration.

That scene had been filmed more than a week ago. The person who recorded it was standing far away, so the footage was blurry. The marketing account made up a story based on the unclear image, and the rumor eventually spread as an explosion accident.

Zhong Weishi pouted. “Who told you to just sleep all the time instead of watching me film? I’m a stunt double and a nude body double. You know, like doing over-the-shoulder throws and slamming people to the ground— not a special effects stuntman. The lead actor has several doubles; I’m not the only one.”

“Whoa! Over-the-shoulder throws? That’s pretty impressive!” Cao Zhiheng widened his eyes and patted Zhong Weishi’s arm. “Didn’t expect that from you.”

“Of course.”

Gu Lizhou caught on to a completely different point. “N-n-n-nude, body double?”

Was this even a proper drama? Why would it need a body double?

“Ah,” Zhong Weishi replied. “When Cheng Yue filmed his first drama, his back got burned, so he couldn’t do any scenes requiring nude scenes. Bathing and sleeping scenes all needed a double. My body shape and skin tone are pretty similar to his.”

Gu Lizhou scoffed, “What’s the point of filming a bath scene?”

Cao Zhiheng retorted, “What do you know? Some viewers are really into that. Just think about it—a fresh and vibrant body, with well-defined collarbones, toned muscles, smooth lines, fair and tender skin, water droplets rolling down. How enticing is that…”

Zhong Weishi interrupted him, “Why does it sound so weird when you put it that way? Are we talking about roast duck?”

“…”

They talked about the stunt double topic for a while, but eventually circled back to the main point of the day.

“Not answering my calls!!! Do you know I almost picked out a burial plot for you!? Ah?” Gu Lizhou furiously poked his forehead.

Cao Zhiheng thought to himself that Gu Lizhou must have gotten so anxious today that his brain short-circuited. That was way too harsh.

Zhong Weishi squinted as his head was pushed backward from the relentless poking. He leaned back and ended up falling onto the sofa.

Despite that, his heart felt inexplicably happy, so happy that the corners of his mouth lifted and his chest warmed up.

A little pink flower seemed to bloom above his head.

Zhong Weishi’s ear pressed directly against Gu Lizhou’s fingertip.

A man’s voice came through the phone.

“Alright, I’ll send someone to pick you up at the airport.”

“No need, no need. I booked an afternoon flight. By the time I get there, it’ll be evening. I’ll just take a taxi back and head to your company the next day.”

“Okay, then make sure to call me in advance. I’ll have a driver pick you up.”

“It’s fine, I can go by myself. It’s not like I don’t know the way…”

Zhong Weishi frowned and asked, “Where are you going ah?”

“Back to B City ah.”

Zhong Weishi stared into his eyes, feeling as if all the blood in his body had been drained in an instant.

He had expected that Gu Lizhou would leave the apartment sooner or later, but he hadn’t thought it would happen so suddenly.

“Isn’t your home in Qingfeng Garden?”

“No. Qingfeng Garden is my mom’s place. My parents are divorced. I live with my dad,” Gu Lizhou said.

“Ah.” Zhong Weishi was still dazed, barely able to find his voice.

“I moved to B City after middle school. I just came here for a break, but now I have to go back to work.”

Gu Lizhou’s tone was calm, devoid of any emotion, but it left Zhong Weishi with an inexplicable sense of sourness.

“Then why did you have me help you look for a job before ah…”

“My friend only reached out to me recently, after you helped me look for work,” Gu Lizhou said, meeting his gaze. “We’re developing a new game.”

“I see ah.”

Zhong Weishi recalled a conversation they had before about work. Gu Lizhou had mentioned that his job was related to online games.

So he was a programmer.

So awesome.

Gu Lizhou completely shattered the image of an IT guy that Zhong Weishi had in his mind.

The first thing Zhong Weishi did after snapping out of his thoughts was search for B City on the map.

Approximately 1,830 kilometers from Yucheng…

So far away…

He had only ever lived in two cities his entire life, never more than 50 kilometers apart. Now that the high-speed rail was in service, it only took about half an hour to travel between them.

But 1,800 kilometers was totally beyond his imagination.

A place completely out of his reach.

“Do you have to go back?”

As soon as the words left his mouth, Zhong Weishi realized how stupid the question was.

B City was the person’s home, so going back for work was the most natural thing in the world.

“It sounds really far,” he awkwardly changed the subject. “How long does the flight take ah?”

“It’s not too bad. A little over two hours.”

In truth, Gu Lizhou had considered turning down the job to focus on his own creative projects. But Cheng Hang had urged him multiple times, putting him in a tough spot.

Back when he was in investment, Cheng Hang had provided him with a lot of valuable connections, most of which were profitable. Now that the person needed his help, outright refusing would be pretty ungrateful.

Friendships were built on mutual exchange. Otherwise, people won’t bother to help you next time

Besides, Cheng Hang’s younger brother was in the entertainment industry… It was more or less a doorway.

Gu Lizhou wasn’t sure yet if he could do anything for Zhong Weishi, but if an opportunity arose, he would definitely give it a shot.

Before anything was certain, he didn’t dare make any promises—he didn’t want to disappoint his little friend.

Of course, the one next to him could not comprehend these little thoughts of his.

Zhong Weishi lowered his gaze, staring blankly at his shoes.

All the strength had been drained from his body, a heavy gloom settling around him. Behind him, it was as if a pale, sorrowful soul was floating up into the air.

A heavy rain had fallen at noon, and now, as the wind blew through the corridor, it carried a faint chill.

Ever since he had given Gu Lizhou that free performance ticket, they often sat in the hallway together, enjoying the breeze.

Gu Lizhou liked watching him play with flower trick and would even join in.

He also liked yo-yos, but his skills were so terrible that he often hit himself in the head when retracting the string and then blamed it on the yo-yo’s poor quality.

Gu Lizhou usually like to drink yogurt, but has recently switched to coffee; sometimes with milk foam, sometimes with a slight tang.

Today’s coffee was a light color and tasted very bitter.

The thought that no one would be sitting here watching him flip around anymore made Zhong Weishi’s eyes suddenly burn, his nose stinging with an ache.

Instead of blowing away his fatigue and irritation, today’s penetrating wind made him even more lost.

His mood plummeted from the heights of Mount Everest into a bottomless abyss.

He hated rainy days. And he hated goodbyes even more.

“Why aren’t you saying anything?” Gu Lizhou tilted his head to look at him.

Say what ah?

What was there left to say ah? You’re leaving anyway.

Frustrated, Zhong Weishi turned his face away and reached up to fiddle with a cactus on the windowsill.

“Why are you plucking its spines ah? Still don’t think it’s bald enough?” Gu Lizhou grabbed his wrist and tugged him back slightly.

Zhong Weishi let out a huff and kept plucking. “I want to pluck its spines. I’m going to strip it bare.”

“Alright, alright, alright.” Gu Lizhou sighed and let go. “Then pluck it.”

The moment the one on the side’s attention shifted away, Zhong Weishi’s expression turned resentful.

What ah…

Did he not notice his bad mood at all?

Could he really not tell that this was reluctance!

But then again, how could an old man like him understand something like reluctance? The person was only here to clear his mind anyway.

He came when he felt like it, and he left when he didn’t.

Who would care about him?

All that heartbeat nonsense—what a load of bullshit!

Was he really going to let his heartbeat revolve around just one person for the rest of his life?!

Gu Lizhou chuckled and nudged his elbow. “Still drinking your coffee?”

“No.” Zhong Weishi didn’t look at him. “That stuff tastes awful.”

Gu Lizhou picked up their earlier conversation. “When are you filming that super badass explosion scene? I’ll come watch.”

“I don’t know. It depends on the director. We have to wait for the weather to clear up first,” Zhong Weishi said.

“I see ah”

Something crossed Zhong Weishi’s mind. “Give me your bank account number. I’ll transfer you the rest of the money.”

“Just send it to my WeChat. There’s not much left anyway.”

“Oh.”

Another long silence.

Gu Lizhou wasn’t much of a conversationalist. Usually, it was Zhong Weishi who took the initiative to keep the conversation going. Now that this little parrot had shut his mouth, Gu Lizhou had nothing to say.

Zhong Weishi also found the atmosphere strange—even more awkward than when they first met.

After half a day, he shoved aside his uncomfortable feelings, summoning all his strength. “You’ll come back at some point, right? If you do, don’t just sneak in quietly—make sure to let me know ah.”

“Alright.” Gu Lizhou smiled. “But I’m afraid by the time I come back, you won’t be here anymore.”

“How is that possible! I’ll always be here!” Zhong Weishi straightened his back, eyes burning with determination.

Gu Lizhou chuckled. “Don’t you want to be a big star? Once you start getting roles and make a name for yourself, you won’t still be stuck in this broken place ah.”

Zhong Weishi’s head drooped again, like a wilted blade of dogtail grass.

Four years ago, when he had just moved to Yucheng, everything was unfamiliar. He had to learn how to cook and do laundry on his own, how to make his bed and dry his blankets in the sun, how to take the bus and squeeze into the subway, how to haggle with street vendors, and how to hold back tears…

With both confidence and uncertainty, he tried, little by little, to find his place in this world.

He wanted to shoot a movie, to work hard like the others in his group, to fight his way into the ranks of 18-line actors.

He wanted to earn money to support his grandmother’s old age. He wanted to make a name for himself, to make the people who abandoned him regret it, to live a life that was a little easier…

Back then, every single moment he had wanted to escape this place. But ever since Gu Lizhou arrived, that thought had never crossed his mind again.

Now, he looked forward to coming home every day, to sitting in the hallway under the moonlight with the old man, listening to him tell stories.

Fairy tales, romance, suspense, horror… every kind of genres.

It had become a habit—something as essential as eating and sleeping.

And a comforting habit like that wasn’t so easy to break…

Even if he went somewhere else and met new people, no one would be as understanding and helpful as Gu Lizhou.

To him, Gu Lizhou was like a steadfast evergreen pine—lush and enduring. Most days, he seemed warm and gentle, but when it truly mattered, he could shield others from the wind and rain with a quiet, unwavering strength.

“Just don’t forget me ah.” Zhong Weishi’s slipper swayed twice, knocking against the tip of Gu Lizhou’s shoe. “No matter where I go, I’ll let you know.”

At the moment of parting, all other emotions felt insignificant. The only thing that mattered now was making sure Gu Lizhou would remember him—remember that there was someone here in Yucheng who considered him a close friend.

“En.” Gu Lizhou reached out and ruffled his hair.

Zhong Weishi thought about it and still felt it wasn’t enough. “If you ever go back to live in Qingfeng Garden, make sure to let me know too ah. It’s not far from here.”

“If I come back, I’ll probably just stay at Old Cao’s place. I’m not used to living with my mom—she nags too much.” Gu Lizhou paused before adding, “But next time, I might have to stay in a hotel. His girlfriend is moving in, so it’d be inconvenient for me.”

“Then you can stay with me ah,” Zhong Weishi blurted out.

As soon as he said it, Gu Lizhou seemed to freeze, as if someone had hit pause on him.

A suffocating wave of awkwardness crashed over Zhong Weishi.

What the hell was he saying!

Why was he so desperate for him to come back?!

This is way too weird!

It wasn’t until Gu Lizhou chuckled and replied with an “alright ah” did he finally breathed again, a crescent-shaped smile spreading across his face.

“There’s still an empty room here. I used to have a male roommate, but he moved out after the New Year.” Zhong Weishi said.

Gu Lizhou: “But when I first met you, you said you had a roommate.”

Zhong Weishi: “Well, we weren’t familiar with each other back then. I was afraid you would plot against me.

“Oh, please.” Gu Lizhou laughed so hard his gums almost showed. “With a phone balance in the negatives? Who would be interested in you ah?”

Zhong Weishi patted his shoulder. “I’ll treat you to a meal sometime as a send-off.”

“Good ah.” Gu Lizhou nodded.

Zhong Weishi had originally planned to take Gu Lizhou out for lunch on his birthday according to the solar calendar, then see him off at the airport for a proper farewell.

But things didn’t go as planned. That morning, he got a last-minute notice from a new production crew asking him to come in for an audition.

It was an opportunity he had waited for a long time.

A second male lead.

A role that would let him live from the start to the end.

He agonized over the decision for a long time, torn between sending Gu Lizhou off and attending the audition. His brain hurt from the stress. In the end, he cautiously sent a message to test the waters.

[Weishi]: I have to head to the set later, not sure when I’ll be back. What time are you leaving in the afternoon ah?

[Pretty Boy 0229]: It’s fine, just focus on your work. No need to see me off.

[Weishi]: I might be able to make it back in time.

[Pretty Boy 0229]: Really, don’t worry about it. I’ll start packing now.

What ya…

Zhong Weishi sulked, gnawing at his thumbnail.

When he reached the line at the subway entrance, he sent another message.

[Weishi]: Be careful on your way back.

[Pretty Boy 0229]: En.

Zhong Weishi received the message and let out a heavy sigh at the subway entrance.

That single “en” felt perfunctory to him.

A pessimistic thought even crept into his mind—once Gu Lizhou left, would he also become just as insignificant as that “en” to him? Light and meaningless.

Like encountering a stray puppy during a walk—one might sigh and think, ‘how pitiful’ then pat its head and buy it some food. But in the end, reality would push that puppy out of sight and out of mind.

It was so unfair ah.

Because, in the puppy’s eyes, the only thing that mattered was the person who fed it.

But his pessimism didn’t last long. After sulking for five minutes, he finally typed out what he thought was an elegant, poetic, and deeply heartfelt message.

—If you ever come back, I’ll be there to pick you up! Not even thunder and lightning can stop me!

The original line was actually from Liang Shiqiu: I won’t see you off when you leave, but no matter the wind or rain, I will be there to welcome you back.

He felt it was the perfect fit for the situation.

He had to admire how romantic people from that era were.

And, of course, he believed that his slight modification made it even wilder.

Then, as he squeezed into the overcrowded subway car, a delayed sense of embarrassment washed over him.

Ah, ah, ah! No, no!

This is way too cheesy! Way too cheesy!

Panicked, he hurried to unlock his phone and retract the message—only to be jostled by someone nearby and accidentally hit “Delete” instead.

Dear heavens ah!—

It felt like all the air had been sucked out of the world.

A round, chubby little soul once again floated above his head.

For a long moment, there was nothing. Then—his phone vibrated.

Standing in the subway car filled with the overwhelming scent of chive and egg pancakes, he took several deep breaths, bracing himself for the inevitable teasing. Hands trembling, he picked up his phone.

[Pretty Boy 0229]: Alright ah, it’s a deal.

Zhong Weishi pressed his lips together and grinned foolishly at the screen, his forehead lightly knocking against the subway handrail again and again.

All his gloomy little emotions instantly vanished into thin air.

Ah.

He suddenly had the overwhelming urge to do a backflip.

Qiangzi was sitting at the table next to Zhong Weishi and the others. When he lifted his face from the hotpot, he happened to catch a glimpse of the two men beside him with their heads pressed together, smiling, completely oblivious to their surroundings.

They weren’t even drinking anything.

“What are you guys laughing at ah?” Qiangzi tilted his head and asked.

“Nothing.” The two men spoke in unison.

As Qiangzi retracted his gaze, he unintentionally noticed the identical red strings on their wrists, standing out conspicuously.

“What’s this ah? Couple bracelets? Where did you get them ah? I didn’t notice them just now.”

Before putting it on, Zhong Weishi had briefly considered the implications, but the thought was fleeting and quickly dismissed.

Now that the word “couple” had popped out of Qiangzi’s mouth, he felt his ears burning.

This, this, this… was too embarrassing!

How shameful.

Should I take it off?

The person sitting across from him didn’t seem to mind at all, lazily explaining, “It came with a donation I made for a kid a while ago. Apparently, it’s been blessed. I’ve been feeling really lucky these past couple of days—I won another free bottle twice in a row.”

“Oh? For real ah?” Qiangzi’s face lit up with excitement. “Are there more? Get me one too.”

Da Fei was just as thrilled after hearing that. “I want one too, I want one too.”

“I’ll donate again next time I run into that girl and get one for each of you bros.” Having spent so much time with Zhong Weishi, Gu Lizhou’s way of speaking had started to resemble his. When he said this, his tone was bold and uninhibited.

Qiangzi gave him a thumbs-up. “Nice, that’s real solid!”

Zhong Weishi: “…”

On the way back, everyone was talking about Duan Yi and Da Fei.

“Honestly, that surnamed Duan doesn’t seem all that bad. I thought there’d be a fight today,” A’Wei said as he pulled a retractable steel pipe from behind him. “Look, I even brought a handy weapon.”

Gu Lizhou was checking the location of their Didi driver when he heard this and burst out laughing.

Xiao Tian: “I just felt like that guy kept sneaking glances at Da Fei with those shifty eyes. He definitely had some perverted thoughts.”

Qiangzi showed off his 3D tattoo. “With me around, would he dare do anything?”

A’Wei: “He must’ve chickened out when he saw how many of us there were.”

Da Fei: “I think so too.”

Qiangzi strolled over to Zhong Weishi, bumped his elbow, and asked, “New watch ah? Where’d you snag it from?”

“Psht, I’m not a pickpocket,” Zhong Weishi scoffed and jerked his chin toward the figure ahead. “He gave it to me.”

“A gift?” Qiangzi suspiciously lifted his wrist for a closer look. “Since when did you two get so close? This brand isn’t cheap, you know.”

Zhong Weishi froze.

Was their relationship considered close?

They weren’t exactly familiar—Gu Lizhou, this person, was always so secretive, and never talked about his family. But at the same time, he seemed to go along with everything Zhong Weishi said.

That old beast was stupidly rich and kindhearted, sure—but wasn’t this a little too fvcking much…

You have no place to spend your money?

Was he sponsoring impoverished residents of Yucheng now?

Or did he really think of him as a son?

Gu Lizhou slowed his pace, and glanced back, “Heading back together? I called a car.”

“Ah.” Zhong Weishi returned to his senses and nodded, “Okay ah.”

The two walked side by side, their arms occasionally brushing against each other. The sensation was like a feather lightly grazing his skin—tingling and electrifying.

But unlike a feather, Gu Lizhou’s arm was firm and carried warmth.

Zhong Weishi stole a glance at the man beside him from the corner of his eye. Even though they were less than ten centimeters apart, even though Gu Lizhou would curve his lips slightly at Qiangzi and the others’ conversation, he still felt completely out of place with his surroundings.

Maybe the age difference played a part.

But it was exactly this mystery, this sense of detachment, that made people want to get closer.

A’Wei spotted a pretty girl in a short skirt by the roadside and followed her with his eyes. If his gaze could shoot lasers, he probably would’ve burned right through her outfit.

The hot topic of conversation somehow got to their types of girls.

Da Fei said he liked older sisters. Qiangzi preferred gentle and clingy types. Wei-ge said he wasn’t picky. When it was Gu Lizhou’s turn, Zhong Weishi’s gaze immediately followed him.

“The type doesn’t matter, because people’s preferences change with age and experience. But one thing is for sure—when you try to get close to someone, your heartbeat will definitely speed up.”

“Heart beating faster?” A’Wei clutched his chest. “Mine sped up just now when that girl walked past.”

Gu Lizhou: “It’s good that it beats, but feelings have to be mutual. You have to see if hers did too—otherwise, it’s a waste.”

A bunch of people burst into laughter.

For some reason, Zhong Weishi suddenly thought of how Gu Lizhou looked in glasses that morning, and his knees felt a little weak.

It must have been the sunlight that was too damn strong.

While waiting for the car, Gu Lizhou was looking down at trending news. Around him, Qiangzi, Da Fei, and the others were laughing heartily, the sounds of passing cars mixing in with their voices.

The group was shoving each other playfully, arms slung over shoulders.

Using this as cover, Zhong Weishi subtly leaned closer to Gu Lizhou’s side. Having just come out from an air-conditioned space, both their arms were still cold. A strange sensation spread through his body like a current in his bloodstream.

He wasn’t sure if Gu Lizhou was too focused on scrolling or if there was another reason, but the man didn’t move away.

While Zhong Weizhi’s skin was cold, his blood boiled.

Whoever could make this old beast’s heart race was unknown, but this old beast had already made his heart race more than three times.

Noticing a burning gaze from the corner of his eye, Gu Lizhou turned his head slightly. “Do I have flowers on my face?”

“Is the driver almost here?” Zhong Weishi leaned in to check the screen.

“There’s still 500 meters.” Gu Lizhou shielded his forehead from the sun, glanced to the right, then casually stole another look at Zhong Weishi as he retracted his gaze.

“Hehe.” Zhong Weishi grinned at him. “Do you have plans this afternoon?”

Gu Lizhou instinctively answered no. But then, remembering the pile of books he had yet to read, he immediately corrected himself. “Actually, I need to sleep.”

Zhong Weishi frowned. “Sleeping again? Why are you always sleeping?”

Gu Lizhou: “That’s how we old people are.”

The next second, the little bastard said something that made the corners of his lips lift.

“You’re not old, you’re not old at all.”

Gu Lizhou raised a hand and ruffled his hair before giving him a light push on the back. “Let’s go. Get in the car.”

Gu Lizhou didn’t notice that the boy hadn’t shaken his arm off this time. Nor did he know that his casual gesture had left the other covered in a thin layer of sweat.

–

Old or not, Gu Lizhou still had books to read.

In the end, Zhong Weishi failed to get him to hang out.

Maybe it was a case of thinking about something too much during the day and dreaming about it at night, but that night, Zhong Weishi had an absolutely ridiculous dream.

He dreamt that Gu Lizhou knocked on his door in the middle of the night, asking if they could squeeze in together. And as they squeezed, Gu Lizhou ended up hugging him from behind.

His body was scorching hot, one leg hooking around both of Zhong Weishi’s. He could hear the steady breaths behind him.

That was his clearest memory of the dream.

When he woke up, his body was still in a heated state. He lowered the air conditioner a few degrees, then grabbed his phone and mindlessly scrolled through Moments, hoping to let the rush of heat slowly fade. As a result, he clicked on the old man’s WeChat avatar as if possessed.

The last time they chatted was the night of his birthday.

After mentioning his own birthday, Gu Lizhou sent two voice messages.

“Hm, rest early.”

“Good night.”

Zhong Weishi bit down on his blanket as the deep, gentle voice echoed over and over in his empty room.

From the very first day he met Gu Lizhou, he’d thought the man was good-looking and had an insanely nice voice. The more he listened, the more he felt…

Ah!—

Can’t sleep!

Zhong Weishi flung his phone away and stomped his feet in the air a few times before finally giving in and dragging himself to the bathroom for a cold shower to calm down.

–

Zhong Weishi didn’t know if that red string bracelet had really been blessed, but ever since he started wearing it, his luck genuinely seemed to improve. After landing the role of the chief eunuch, he got another part with more than ten lines.

And this time, he played a rich guy who woke up every day in a thousand-square-meter villa.

“You stinking woman! You eat my food, drink my wine, use my money, sleep in my bed, and now you dare seduce another man! You even brought him into my house!”

“Speak! In the end, who is it! Is it that pretty boy you’re acting with!?”

Zhong Weishi gripped a single strand of hair between his fingers, eyes bloodshot with fury.

“You misunderstand, he and I are just ordinary friends. This is probably just a strand the cleaning lady accidentally left behind,” Gu Lizhou drawled lazily, holding a cup of coffee in one hand and a script in the other.

“You fart!”

The sheer force of “fart” sent Gu Lizhou’s bangs flying. He shut his eyes and wiped his face, brushing off the spit that had landed on him. One glance at his coffee, and he lost all interest in drinking it.

Putting down the script, he sighed. “Hey, I say, can you dial it back a bit? You’re turning into a human fountain.”

Zhong Weishi acted it out again according to his ideas.

“It’s good this time ah, like a normal person.” Gu Lizhou said applauded.

Zhong Weishi frowned. “But the director keeps telling me I’m not intense enough. He wants me to take notes from the Roaring Emperor and deliver a full-on explosive performance that leaves a deep impression.”

Gu Lizhou rubbed his temples. “Emotion needs to be expressed from within. Just shouting won’t do anything. Your director is completely unreliable.”

The new project Zhong Weishi had taken on was a modern web drama called <When Mother-in-Law Meets the Pretty Daughter-in-Law>. From the title alone, it was obvious it revolved around family drama and romance. In short, it was a dog-blood drama.

Gu Lizhou skimmed a few pages of the script and quickly realized—there wasn’t a single normal person from the main characters to the supporting characters.

The director was a fresh graduate, a little fresh meat with barely any filming experience. But he acted like a big shot—according to Zhong Weishi, everyone on set, from the crew to the actors, had to follow his lead, or they’d be fired.

Since the quality of the script wasn’t good at all, the production had to rely on other gimmicks to attract viewership. If they couldn’t afford A-list celebrities for exposure, they’d pivot to comedy, encouraging audiences to roast the show online.

This drama fell into the latter category.

Small actors like Zhong Weishi, who had no fame or status, had zero say in anything.

Gu Lizhou pulled out a cigarette and lit it. “Have you considered that if you ever get famous one day, this could all be your black history ah? Netizens will dig it up and blacken you to the bone.”

“It doesn’t matter. I don’t mind. If some people hate me, that means others will like me,” Zhong Weishi said, shaking his head. “Besides, think about it. If I ever make it big, it’ll be because I have a real hit work, right? If people compare my new project to my old ones, won’t they see my progress? Like when I read Wan Lizhou’s latest book and then his first one—I just think, he’s improved so much. He must’ve been working hard in places we can’t see.”

Gu Lizhou lowered his head and chuckled. Zhong Weishi really was a natural optimist.

His mindset was completely different from Gu Lizhou’s.

With such a resilient heart, he’d probably handle life under the public eye just fine.

“May you always keep this attitude, and I hope you land a decent director next time.”

“There are good, reliable directors out there,” Zhong Weishi said, rubbing his hands together excitedly. Sitting beside Gu Lizhou on the balcony bench, he continued, “Do you know Li Qingliang?”

Gu Lizhou, an outsider, naturally didn’t know about this. He pulled out his phone and looked him up.

Li Qingliang—an acclaimed TV drama director with nearly 20 years in the industry. He started out as a martial arts stunt double and, by a stroke of luck, transitioned into an executive director role.

The TV drama, <Spring Dawn>, broke viewership records. Not only did he win the Best Director award, but the show’s lead actress also won Best Actress.

Later, he skyrocketed to fame with a crime drama called <Xiao Ying>,¹lit. Brave Eagle. which turned its two male leads into stars.

“This guy is seriously badass. Right now, he’s got a bunch of celebrities filming a new drama over at the film studios. Do you know Cheng Yue? The lead from Xiao Ying? They’re shooting the sequel now,” Zhong Weishi said, getting more and more excited. He opened Weibo and searched for the actor. “This guy—I’m his stunt double!”

Besides being a famous actor, Cheng Yue was also a top-tier singer with several albums. Even someone like Gu Lizhou, who didn’t follow celebrities, had heard a few of his songs.

But when Gu Lizhou first met Cheng Yue, he wasn’t a singer yet—because Cheng Yue was actually the younger brother of his old classmate, Cheng Hang.

Speaking of which, the pair of brothers were pretty interesting. Their family was in real estate, and their father was loaded, yet neither of them wanted to inherit the business. One went off to start a gaming company, while the other became an entertainer.

That said, Gu Lizhou wasn’t exactly close to Cheng Yue. They’d just had a few meals together.

“Do you want to come watch me film?” Zhong Weishi nudged him. “This drama has a ton of explosion scenes. Director Li uses specially made gasoline bombs—people literally get blown into the air. It’s sick.”

“They don’t use CGI? Aren’t real bombs very dangerous?

“Ai, you sound like such an outsider.” The moment Zhong Weishi started talking about filming, his face lit up with enthusiasm. “We have professional explosives experts in the crew. Every blast point is precisely calculated, and the actors’ movements are all pre-arranged. Before the actual take, we run through everything multiple times—actors sprinting ahead, with explosions going off behind them like fireworks—boom, boom, boom…”

“Enough with the boom, boom, boom. Just be careful. Didn’t the news report on that one drama where a gas tank…” Before Gu Lizhou could finish, his phone rang.

While he was distracted by the call, Zhong Weishi grabbed his coffee cup and took a sip.

Burnt. Bitter. Just one mouthful had his face twisting into a grimace, his teeth bared in agony.

Vomit.

After vomiting he took another sip.

That same dizzying, burnt, bitter taste…

What kind of taste does an old man have ah?

Gu Lizhou saw his scrunched-up face and couldn’t help but chuckle.

“I booked a flight for the day after tomorrow. Isn’t the Mid-Autumn Festival the day after? I figured I’d come back for once and spend it with my grandma and the family before heading back.”

Go back!?

Zhong Weishi instantly perked up.

Where was he going back to?

“Vehicle god?” Gu Lizhou finally had the chance to plant his long legs back on the ground and immediately switched to ruthless mockery. “Your driving skills are worse than mine. You took out all the streetlights on this road.”

“Shut up!” Zhong Weishi was furious, annoyed, and burning up.

The nearby flatbread-guy had just been sent flying by a sudden motorcycle crash. While waiting for it to reset, he glanced over and happened to notice that the one who had been bragging about showcasing his skills earlier now had a tense expression, his face flushed red all the way to his neck, giving it his all to steer toward a building.

He was still cursing under his breath. “fvck, this damn machine is broken! It’s not responsive at all!”

“You can pull back.” Gu Lizhou propped one hand on his thigh while keeping a tight grip around Zhong Weishi’s waist. “You nearly shook the shrimp wontons out of my stomach just now.”

Zhong Weishi couldn’t hold back and burst out laughing.

Gu Lizhou tilted his head slightly to glance at the screen, his warm breath brushing against Zhong Weishi’s neck.

Zhong Weishi shrank his neck, feeling like his head was placed on a sizzling grill, smoking away.

His movements gradually slowed, but whether it was his imagination or not, the arm wrapped around his waist didn’t loosen. Instead, the grip seemed to tighten even more.

Ah, ah, ah—

Charge ah!—

But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t shift his focus away from that arm around his waist.

Their two-player motorcycle race ended without suspense.

Dead last.

It was a complete disaster—they fell two full laps behind the first-place finisher, got flung off four times, and crashed into countless buildings.

Because Zhong Weishi had crashed into Duan Yi twice, Duan Yi turned his head with a face like thunder. But rules were rules—players were allowed to attack each other mid-race. He had been in first place from the very start, using nitro boosts freely, leaving everyone else in the dust. Victory was practically in his grasp—until Zhong Weishi sent him flying in the second lap.

This time, Qiangzi took first place, looking absolutely radiant. “Shi-ge, congratulations, congratulations! For a first-time run, this was already pretty damn good.”

Duan Yi snorted.

The burning sensation on Zhong Weishi’s face had finally faded. Refocusing on the race, he stiffly salvaged his reputation as a vehicle god. “That round was just a test. Next one’s the real deal.”

To ensure fairness, the group revised the rules.

The new map was set to Hong Kong’s Causeway Bay. Players could only pick one type of upgrade—choosing nitro boosts meant giving up speed enhancements, opting for stability improvements meant sacrificing all other buffs…

Mid-race collisions were still allowed, and each player could choose a navigator to assist them.

Gu Lizhou let go of Zhong Weishi’s waist and stepped aside. “I’ll help you navigate the map.”

Zhong Weishi finally took a deep breath, feeling the oxygen revive every cell in his body. He nodded firmly.

At first, Qiangzi had thought Duan Yi brought such a large group for a brawl, but since this was Wild Moto, there was no need for so many people. He personally picked Da Fei as his navigator.

Duan Yi’s expression was grim.

“All right. So you don’t say we’re ganging up on you—we’ll split into four teams: me and Da Fei, Xiao Tian and Wei-ge, and two teams from your side. That makes it fair, four bikes in total.”

Qiangzi said, flexing his rose-tattooed arm with an air of dominance. “Whoever wins gets to call the shots. If we win, the moment you step out of this arcade, you stay the hell away from Dafei—no more contact, and don’t harass him on any live broadcast platforms either.”

“Deal.” Duan Yi smirked, licking the corner of his lips before turning to look at Da Fei. “No problem.”

Da Fei averted his eyes in embarrassment.

After listening to the proposal, Zhong Weishi found it fair and nodded in agreement. But then, a serious issue came to mind. “Hey, Qiangzi, what about our team?”

Qiangzi hadn’t expected Shi-ge to make such an unreasonable request at such a crucial moment.

With how disastrous his last run was—was that even worth watching!?

This was a battle concerning Da Fei’s future!

It wasn’t a child’s play!

But he couldn’t just say that outright. Furrowing his brows, he tactfully replied, “Shi-ge, here’s the thing—this round is an official match. Next time, I’ll play with you as much as you want.”

Zhong Weishi: “…”

Just then, Gu Lizhou returned from the cashier and placed a small basket of freshly exchanged game tokens in front of Zhong Weishi. “Go ahead and play. It’s on me.” Then, he handed ten tokens to the flat-bread face. “The extra ones are interest.”

Flatbread: “Thank you.”

“No problem. Just go easy on me later.” Gu Lizhou patted Zhong Weishi’s shoulder with a smile. “It’s a kid’s first time playing and he got so worked up after losing one round that his forehead was practically smoking.”

Zhong Weishi turned his head, opened his mouth, and pretended to bite Gu Lizhou’s arm. Gu Lizhou swiftly retracted his hand, dodging it.

Recalling their earlier performance, Duan Yi curled his lips into a smirk. “Doesn’t matter. You guys can team up.”

Qiangzi, being prideful, initially wanted to refuse, but before he could speak, Zhong Weishi immediately latched onto the opportunity. “You said it yourself ah!”

Duan Yi shrugged indifferently. “Yeah, I said it. Not like you’d win even with a one-lap head start.”

Zhong Weishi nodded. “Great, then go ahead and let us ah.”

Duan Yi: “…” Shameless!

Qiangzi: “…” His big bro was still his big bro—this move of slipping through the cracks was legendary.

The flatbread guy thought to himself—these two so-called “vehicle gods” had no shame when it came to saving face. Their personalities were practically identical.

To ensure everyone could connect to the game, Qiangzi gave the command, and everyone inserted their tokens at the same time.

“Clank, clank.” Two game tokens dropped into the machine.

After everyone finished selecting their car colors, map, and upgrade package, the sound of tokens dropping continued—“Clank, clank, clank.”

Something wasn’t right.

Everyone turned their gaze toward the back.

There, they saw Gu Lizhou hunched over, aggressively feeding tokens into the machine.

Ever since the last race ended, Zhong Weishi had kept his head down, ignoring him completely. Seeing his gloomy expression, Gu Lizhou figured the kid was probably sulking over his loss.

As a loving father, he naturally had to help his child reclaim victory and restore his reputation as the legendary racer of Akina Mountain.

Rules? Who cared about rules? Making sure the child was happy was the priority.

Besides, they weren’t technically part of the official teams anyway, right?

Thus, the game interface lit up—Nitro Boost +15, 100 km/h acceleration in 2.6s, Top Speed: 400 km/h, Stability +8…

And the numbers kept climbing.

“Hey! What the hell are you guys doing?!” Duan Yi jumped off his bike and pointed at Gu Lizhou, yelling, “We agreed on only one upgrade package!”

Gu Lizhou remained unnervingly calm. “We’re cheating. Didn’t you say you’d give us a lap head start? No need for that anymore.”

Duan Yi: “…” Shameless!

Even as he spoke, Gu Lizhou’s hand kept shoving more tokens into the machine.

Zhong Weishi was starting to feel a little embarrassed. He nudged Gu Lizhou’s shoulder. “Okay, okay, that’s enough, that’s enough.”

“Enough?” Gu Lizhou glanced at the screen and let out a casual “Oh yo.” “Yeah, looks like it’s enough.”

In the end, Duan Yi and his team had no choice but to admit defeat and start purchasing a ton of upgrades themselves.

The game paused and was fed with dozens of tokens. This kind of RMB playstyle was simply unheard of. A large group of uniformed staff stopped to watch, pointing, and discussing.

Even passing bystanders got involved, setting up side bets on who would win.

The arcade was instantly heated.

As an RMB player in this game, Zhong Weishi unlocked advanced options, granting him the ability to select an SSS-tier motorcycle.

The bike’s sleek silver-and-black body gleamed under the lights, and even the helmet had a lightning emblem printed on it. The entire aesthetic was ridiculously cool.

Duan Yi sneered. “Flower Peac0ck, just don’t fall two laps behind again.”

Zhong Weishi ignored him. Instead, he lifted his head and locked eyes with Gu Lizhou. For a brief moment, they both felt as if they had read something profound in each other’s heated, sincere gazes. Without words, they communicated their thoughts through their eyes.

Gu Lizhou: The key is to participate. Don’t take it too seriously. If we’re about to lose, just fake a leg cramp—Dad will definitely help you cover it up.

Zhong Weishi: Okay. Thanks for believing in me. We’re winning this round for sure.

The “START” sign suddenly lit up.

Zhong Weishi twisted the throttle and simultaneously pressed the function button on the bike’s console. The fifth-place motorcycle instantly shot forward with a nitro boost, streaking across the track like a silver-white lightning bolt, leaving the other four bikes in the dust.

“Woah—”

As the special effects burst onto the screen, the surrounding spectators let out a wave of astonished exclamations.

Qiangzi seized the opportunity, smirking as he forced Duan Yi into a corner.

Duan Yi’s eyes were locked onto the screen. He let out a frustrated “fvck.”

The arcade’s simulated road conditions were impressively realistic. For the first time, Zhong Weishi experienced what it was like to play a racing game with cheat-level enhancements. His lips curled up, and his heart pounded violently in his chest.

He was both nervous and thrilled.

Gu Lizhou was as focused as he was.

“Slow down, slow down. Sharp left turn ahead.”

“Take the left fork up ahead.”

“Lean to the right, lean to the right. There’s a small road!”

No one was familiar with the new map. The sounds of discussions and collisions echoed nonstop, and everyone’s attention was highly focused.

Among the roaring of the accelerating motorcycles, Zhong Weishi focused intently, trying to pick out and follow Gu Lizhou’s deep, steady voice.

Probably due to his poor eyesight, Gu Lizhou had leaned in closer to the screen, one hand braced against the table, eyes locked onto the mini-map in the top-right corner.

By the third lap, Zhong Weishi accidentally missed a shortcut. Duan Yi and Qiangzi’s motorcycle icons suddenly appeared on the mini-map.

They were catching up.

Gu Lizhou furrowed his brows. “Slow down, don’t rush.”

Zhong Weishi took a deep breath, then executed a high-speed left drift, his knee nearly scraping the ground.

The tires skimmed past an obstacle.

A perfect dodge.

Behind him, Duan Yi crashed into a railing, letting out a string of curses.

The race ended. The first-place finisher, a flamboyant-looking man on screen, took off his helmet and tucked it under his arm, curling his lips into a smirk.

Zhong Weishi ranked first with a time of 2 minutes and 32 seconds. He raised his hand and exchanged a high five with Gu Lizhou.

Duan Yi finished with a time of 2 minutes 33 seconds, ranking second. Qiangzi, lagging behind by 0.12 seconds, placed third—so furious that he was pounding his chest and stomping his feet.

“We won ah,” Zhong Weishi turned his head and said, “so stop harassing Da Fei.”

“Bullshit!” Duan Yi was annoyed. “You guys cheated! Would you have won without all those speed boosters?”

“Didn’t you just say you’d give us a full lap head start?” Qiangzi countered righteously.

“You!” Duan Yi choked on his words. “This round doesn’t count! Rematch!”

Zhong Weishi frowned, straddling his seat again. “Fine, let’s go again.”

This time, it was a brand-new map, and the rule was clear: no purchasing upgrades, no navigators giving directions.

“Hey, you flashy peac0ck,” Duan Yi turned to Zhong Weishi, “why don’t you bet something too? Otherwise, there’s no thrill if you lose.”

“Bet on what?”

“If you lose, you have to stand in the hallway outside and shout ‘I really like men!’ at the top of your lungs.” He then turned to Huangfu Qiang. “You too.”

Qiangzi’s face twisted in disgust. “I fvck, you’re a fvcking pervert.”

Da Fei, anxious, tried to intervene. “Forget it, let’s not do this.”

But Zhong Weishi simply tossed in two tokens. “Deal.”

Ten minutes later.

A row of men—except for Gu Lizhou—stood neatly in the hallway outside the arcade.

Qiangzi’s old face was burning red. He opened his mouth several times but couldn’t bring himself to say something so humiliating.

Unfortunately, today happened to be the day a car accessories company was hosting a promotional event. The ground floor was packed with people, and passersby were starting to cast curious glances their way.

“Shout ah,” Duan Yi smirked, arms crossed over his chest, looking insufferably smug. “A man’s word is his bond—I already agreed to leave Da Fei alone.”

Qiangzi struggled to turn his head, desperately seeking outside help. The first person he looked for was the thickest-skinned among them. “Hey, Shi-ge, look, we grew up together, right? Back when we swore brotherhood, didn’t we promise to share blessings and difficulties…”

“No, no, no! Stop!” Zhong Weishi backed away repeatedly. “When the hell did I ever swear brotherhood with you?”

Why not!” Qiangzi clung to him. “How about this—I won’t force you, let’s just split the sentence in half?”

Zhong Weishi immediately latched onto Gu Lizhou, who was leaning against the wall, enjoying the show, and roared, “I refuse! If you keep this up, I’m cutting ties with you ah!”

Duan Yi: “…”

Gu Lizhou watched the drama as if it were nothing, “Just imagine the entire floor is a vast melon field, and you’re just shouting out your innermost desires to the melons.”

Qiangzi took a few minutes to gather his emotions. Then, in a voice as faint as a mosquito’s, he muttered, “I-I-I really like…”

As he watched the customers around him gather more and more, he suddenly felt like his throat had been blocked, unable to force out another word.

Duan Yi sneered, “Louder. Who can hear you with this commotion?”

And just like that, a mere 0.05-second difference cost a champion eater his dignity in the middle of Wanda shopping mall.

Da Fei originally wanted to take this opportunity to return the several thousand yuan Duan Yi had given him, but Duan Yi flat-out refused to accept it. Da Fei grabbed his phone, trying to check his Alipay account.

Right outside the arcade, the two ended up reenacting a classic New Year’s scene—where an elder tries to give a red envelope and the younger one adamantly refuses to take it.

“Keep it, buy yourself some new clothes. I’ll still continue to follow your singing—you sing really well. I’m your little fan-ge”

Duan Yi reached out, trying to pat Da Fei’s shoulder, but Dafei dodged. “I won’t spend your money. If you ever regret this, you can always take it back. But making friends is impossible. No chance. I don’t like men.”

Duan Yi didn’t say anything. He just left behind a meaningful smile before turning and walking away.

“Don’t harass him again ah!” Qiangzi shouted at Duan Yi’s retreating figure.

Zhong Weishi watched the scene unfold, clicking his tongue several times in mock admiration. “If I had such a devoted fan, life would be so much easier. I’d never have to worry about food or clothes again.”

Gu Lizhou: “If you ever decide to do a cross-dressing live broadcast, make sure to invite me. Dad will help you achieve your dream of getting rich.”

Zhong Weishi smirked, pressing his lips together. “Didn’t you say you hate seeing men in women’s clothes?”

Gu Lizhou: “You’re different ah.”

“Where is it different?” Zhong Wei Shi asked.

“Everywhere is different.”

Zhong Weishi huffed smugly. “Trying to butter me up ah? Not falling for it. Give up already.”

Gu Lizhou chuckled as he caught up to him. “By the way, what was that show you mentioned last time—the one where the palace maid feeds gr4p3s to Emperor Shunzhi?”

“Bleh, bleh, bleh… not telling you.”

With everything settled, and Da Fei even walking away with a small fortune from his crazy fan-ge everyone’s mood was pretty great—Except for Qiangzi.

“Did that bastard Duan record everything just now?” He suddenly had a horrifying realization.

Zhong Weishi said, “He didn’t record it, I did. Do you want to see it?”

Gu Lizhou beckoned with a finger, “Come on, show me.”

“…” Qiangzi’s face darkened instantly. The urge to cut ties forever had never been stronger.

Lunch was on Da Fei at a well-known porridge shop in the mall. The food was good, the portions were big.

Of course, the most important thing was that the price wasn’t expensive.

A huge pot of seafood porridge cost 32 yuan and came with unlimited refills—perfect for a big appetite king like Qiangzi.

It was peak lunch hour, and seats were scarce. After a quick trip to the restroom, Zhong Weishi and Gu Lizhou returned to find that only two corner seats were left.

While waiting for their porridge, Gu Lizhou scrolled through the news. Zhong Weishi, whose phone was dead, idly glanced around, taking in the shop’s decor. His gaze eventually landed on Gu Lizhou’s wrist—and the conspicuous red string tied around it.

“Ai,” Zhong Weishi knocked on the table. “Where’d you get that? I don’t remember seeing you wear it before.”

“Huh?” Gu Lizhou looked up. “What?”

Zhong Weishi gestured at it. “That red string. Looks like cheap street stall stuff—totally doesn’t match your rich guy aesthetic.”

Gu Lizhou glanced at his wrist bone, where the string rested. “I bought some books the other day and ran into this little girl collecting donations for a welfare center. I donated some, and she gave me this.”

“You’re such a caring person.” Zhong Weishi propped his chin on his hand, laughing. “It looks quite good, kinda tacky with a bit of sexiness and cuteness.”

Gu Lizhou’s eyes curved with amusement. “She said wearing it brings good luck. I have another one in my wallet. Want it?”

“Pfft, how old are you ah? Still falling for this kind of…” Zhong Weishi’s tone was dripping with disdain.

Gu Lizhou’s fingers paused mid-motion. Just as he was about to say not to pull it down, he saw the other person whose eyes filled with disdain and was condescending, never believing in this kind of bullshit boy, hooked his finger at him. “Hand it over. Let’s see if it actually works ah. If not, I’ll march into that welfare center and demand a refund.”

Gu Lizhou laughed so hard that his shoulders shook.

“Damn, why’s it so tight ah? How the hell did you even get this on ah, fvck. Too tight”

“Idiot. Give me your hand. I’ll put it on for you.”

At this hour, the mall had just opened for business, and there were only a handful of players in the arcade. The moment Zhong Weishi stepped through the door, he spotted several men sitting on the motorcycle arcade machines.

“Left, left, left! There’s a small path ahead, watch the turn!—”

Qiangzi was seated at the outermost position, with Da Fei standing beside him, shouting instructions while keeping his eyes glued to the screen. He hadn’t yet noticed their arrival.

The motorcycle section had a total of eight seats. Besides Da Fei, A’Wei, and Qiangzi, there were also two brothers from the internet café. Qiangzi was the type who loved gathering in groups—even going to the restroom had to be a team activity. Naturally, a high-stakes event like “racing” couldn’t do without an audience.

Among the crowd, there were four men Zhong Weishi had never seen before—clearly, they were from the opposing camp.

On their side, two were playing while the other two watched.

One of them, around 27 or 28 years old, had styled his hair in the same slicked-back fashion as Gu Lizhou. The difference was that while Gu Lizhou kept his natural hair color, this guy had dyed his a slightly flashy light ash-blonde. His features were sharp, and his long legs flexed as the sleek motorcycle swayed with the force of his lower body movements.

He wore a black Gucci T-shirt paired with ripped jeans, the English lettering across his chest designed in a bold, lightning-like pattern.

The man next to him had a very recognizable face—long and flat, resembling the stone oven-baked biscuits sold at roadside carts.

By contrast, the slicked-back guy looked outrageously handsome.

Though his face and build were decent enough, Zhong Weishi still felt that this man’s overall presence couldn’t compare to Gu Lizhou’s.

Sure enough, the guy erupted in anger after getting hit by someone in-game. “fvck! Are you fvcking blind? Why the hell did you crash into me?! I’m asking you, why did you bump into me?! Can you even drive?! What, did you have shit for breakfast?! If you don’t know how to play, then get the fvck out of here!”

One was arrogant and irritable, while the other was humorous, cultured, and gentle…

No comparison at all.

Zhong Weishi shook his head as he watched the man’s back, then walked over and nudged Da Fei’s arm. “What did Wei-ge mean by warming up?”

“Since they’re not familiar with the machines yet, that guy said they should do a few practice rounds before competing later,” Da Fei explained, pursing his lips in the direction of the slicked-back guy as he said “that guy.”

“The one who’s chasing you?” Zhong Weishi raised an eyebrow at the man.

At the mention of the word “chasing,” Da Fei’s face turned red. Even though he was dressed very manly today, he still fidgeted like a little green caterpillar. “Ai… He said he wants to race, and if I lose, then… then I have to…”

“Huh?” Zhong Weishi was stunned, and his mind instantly filled with all kinds of indecent images.

Da Fei stammered, “D-d-d… d-date.”

“fvck, you scared me,” Zhong Weishi let out a sigh of relief. “I thought you meant s.e.x.”¹ZW said this separately so it won’t mean sex when combined. Hence, it became pay and marry.

Gu Lizhou couldn’t hold it in and burst out laughing from the sidelines.

A’Wei, who had barely made it through nine years of compulsory education, was eager to learn and leaned in curiously. “Pay what? Marry what?”

“…”

Zhong Weishi expressionlessly clapped his hands three times.

A’Wei: “Why are you clapping? I’m asking you, what’s paying?”

Two female staff members nearby had been watching the scene unfold, but upon hearing this, they blushed and walked away.

Gu Lizhou searched the keyword online and handed his phone to A’Wei.

A’Wei took a sharp breath.

Da Fei covered his face in embarrassment.

Right now, he deeply regretted jumping on the cross-dressing live broadcast trend.

It was supposed to be a joke, but he didn’t think it would lead to this.

That guy had previously threatened him—if Da Fei refused to date him, he would go to his shop and make a scene. The problem was that the barbershop was owned by Da Fei’s second uncle. If this got out, his parents would inevitably find out about his cross-dressing live broadcast, and they would probably break his legs.

Da Fei didn’t want to bring shame to his family. Frowning, he muttered, “I really don’t like him.”

Zhong Weishi patted his shoulder. “Don’t worry, we’ve got your back. No one’s gonna touch you.”

Da Fei pulled Zhong Weishi aside and discreetly pointed at the man’s back. “His name is Duan Yi. The guys next to him are his brothers. In today’s race, if anyone can beat him, he promised he wouldn’t go to my shop and bother me.”

Zhong Weishi wasn’t sure if this guy would actually keep his word, but at this point, they had no choice but to give it a shot.

The arcade machines could connect for multiplayer races. At this moment, Qiangzi and Duan Yi’s motorcycles had already completed three laps around the map, with only one lap remaining.

The screen was too large, with the mini-map positioned in the upper right corner. First-time players barely had time to glance at it, making it crucial to have a navigator who could check for shortcuts and upcoming sharp turns.

Like a rally car co-driver, this role was essential.

Without Da Fei’s guidance, Qiangzi crashed into obstacles twice, flipping over both times. His speed noticeably dropped in the final two laps, placing him in second. The flatbread-faced guy was in third, and Qiangzi’s crew, playing for the first time, didn’t have much skill.

As the finish line approached, Duan Yi crashed into a truck, reducing his speed by 50%, while Qiangzi still had two nitro boost packs left.

“Boom!—”

A burst of blue exhaust shot out from Qiangzi’s motorcycle as he activated his nitro boost, accelerating almost to the point of riding neck and neck with Duan Yi.

Zhong Weishi was so nervous that he started biting his fingernails. From the corner of his eye, he noticed a figure stepping forward.

Gu Lizhou straddled the sixth motorcycle arcade machine, tapped flatbread-face’s elbow, and mimicked Zhong Weishi’s usual tone when asking him for money. “Hey, bro, got any tokens left?”

Oh, my god ah!—

What the hell was this guy doing ah!—

Zhong Weishi grabbed his bangs in frustration, nearly collapsing to his knees. That was the enemy!

Seeing that he was doomed to lose anyway, flatbread-face couldn’t be bothered to continue. He let go of the handlebars and fished two tokens out of the small basket, handing them over.

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

Da Fei: “…”

Zhong Weishi: “…”

Just like that, the extremely unsociable Gu Lizhou—who had been muttering “What a bunch of childish idiots” before entering—calmly and decisively prepared to join the next round.

In the previous match, Qiangzi had finished in 2nd place, losing by just two seconds. Frustrated and unwilling to accept defeat, his eyes were red as if they burned with flames.

With his eyes fixed on Duan Yi, he waved Da Fei over. “Da Fei, get over here. Why are you standing so far away?”

Da Fei hurried over, ready to be the navigator for the second round.

Duan Yi’s gaze lingered on Da Fei after shifting away from the screen, sweeping up and down from head to toe.

That slender waist, those straight, delicate legs, and that face he had seen countless times in his dreams—all of it made his blood boil and his fighting spirit surge.

He wanted to leave bite marks on that pale neck.

He wanted to take him home, lock him up, and make sure he belonged to him alone.

Cuff him up if he disobeyed; fvck him until he did.

The little thing had such a beautiful singing voice—his moans must sound just as intoxicating.

As all the arcade machines in the game hall powered up, the temperature quickly rose.

With his mind filled with indecent thoughts, Duan Yi’s heartbeat sped up, and the corners of his lips curled into an arrogant, sinister smirk.

Da Fei was terrified by his stare and lowered his gaze, not daring to look at him again.

Gu Lizhou hadn’t set foot in an arcade in over a decade. It took him a while just to find where to insert the tokens. He crooked his finger at Zhong Weishi. “Come here. Be my navigator.”

“Navigator!” Zhong Weishi yelled.

“Is there a difference?” Gu Lizhou twisted the throttle. “Help me figure out how to start this thing.”

“…” Navigator Zhong immediately dashed over. “The race hasn’t even started, yet you start fart!”

The five machines on the left were already set up and ready. Meanwhile, the senior citizen group over here was still picking out bike colors.

“Tsk, I don’t like green,” Gu Lizhou said in distaste.

“Then go for silver,” Zhong Weishi scratched the back of his head. “I think you just need to nudge it to the right a bit. Yeah, yeah. Hey, hey, hey,—too far, too far!”

“This black one looks good,” Gu Lizhou said.

“That Surname Duan picked black too. Choose something else, or it’ll be hard to tell you apart,” Zhong Weishi reminded him.

“Heh.” Gu Lizhou sneered, “It’s not like he can catch up with me.”

Duan Yi: “…”

Zhong Weishi couldn’t understand where this old man—who barely even found the token slot—got all his confidence from.

It might have been blind confidence, but the people of Xicheng District never lost in terms of momentum.

Qiangzi whistled like a proper thug, and Da Fei clapped with enthusiasm.

Navigator Zhong remained composed and echoed, “Well, that’s true.”

Duan Yi: “………………”²I decided to just add that long-ass ellipsis as is lol Cold sweat beaded on his forehead.

After picking their colors, the screen displayed a selection of performance enhancement packs, which included nitro boosts, speed upgrades, and improved bike handling.

Qiangzi, determined to win, spared no expense in purchasing a high-end hardcore upgrade pack. His bike could accelerate from 0 to 100 km/h in just 3.8 seconds, with a top speed exceeding 300 km/h.

Duan Yi on the side went even further—his nitro boost lasted from start to finish, practically like he was using cheats.

Meanwhile, Gu Lizhou, with only two tokens, clicked the “Skip” button.

A line of extremely eye-catching, ruthless prompt appeared on the screen: Are you sure you want to miss this opportunity?!

Qiangzi, with his competitive streak, shouted from across the arcade, “Bro! Buy the last upgrade pack! That one’s the best value!”

Gu Lizhou let out an “Ah.” Before he could react, the “Confirm Miss Opportunity” button flashed—since he had been idle for too long, the system automatically selected it for him.

Gu Lizhou consoled himself, “Whatever, whatever. The Mountain God Akina³It comes from the movie ‘Initial D’, and is usually used to describe someone who is very skilled in driving, especially in drifting. That’s because the course is famous for it’s five consecutive hairpins. never needed that kind of stuff.”

Since the driver had spoken, what else could Navigator Zhong say? He nodded in agreement and coolly added, “I think so too. With enough skill, even a Wuling Hongguang⁴Brand of car. They looked like this. can win.”

Duan Yi, who had just spent a fortune on speed boosts, was so furious his face twisted.

Where the hell did these two donkeys come from?

Their arrogance was downright outrageous!

Qiangzi was also too stunned by these two to form a coherent sentence. He could only offer a quiet, “Then, good luck to you both.”

Three seconds later, the game started automatically.

The map was still Akina Pass, the same one Qiangzi’s group had played earlier. Although Zhong Weishi hadn’t participated, his competitive nature had driven him to mentally review where Duan Yi had crashed last round.

The six bikes staggered into position, awaiting the five-second countdown.

Though it was just a practice round, everyone was nervous as hell.

Zhong Weishi bent down, leaning close to Gu Lizhou’s ear. “I remember the first turn is a left drift. Be careful not to hit the wall.”

Gu Lizhou nodded, “Don’t worry, everything is on command.”

The “START” sign suddenly lit up.

Five modified motorcycles shot out like lightning, vanishing from the screen in an instant.

The so-called impossible-to-catch-up-with black motorcycle remained stationary, its rider casually resting one foot on the ground.

“Ai?” The self-proclaimed Mountain Akina God twisted the throttle several times. “How do you start this thing?”

Pfft—

Zhong Weishi had only ever played Need for Speed on his phone and rarely stepped foot in an arcade.

By the time the two of them figured out how to get the bike moving, the other five racers were already halfway through the first lap.

But a great navigator must remain calm under pressure. Zhong Weishi gripped Gu Lizhou’s shoulders, guiding him carefully, seizing every shortcut opportunity.

“Slow down, slow down. There’s a turn ahead.”

Duan Yi, having overused his nitro boost, struggled to make sharp turns. A crash and a speed drop pushed him from first place down to third, while Qiangzi maintained a comfortable lead.

When Gu Lizhou glanced at the mini-map for the first time, he only saw his own vehicle’s marker. The second time he checked, he noticed two bikes tailing him relentlessly.

“See? Taking shortcuts is way faster ah. I told you, the vehicle god never needed those fancy upgrade packs.”

“Big bro, they’re on their second lap.”

The crowd watching burst into laughter, nearly collapsing from amusement.

Zhong Weishi had finally figured it out—Gu Lizhou was playing purely on dumb luck. He hadn’t picked up a single nitro boost on the track and never drifted around corners.

Frustrated, Zhong Weishi grabbed the man’s wrist, swung a leg over the motorcycle, and roared with determination, “Let me show you what a real Mountain Akina God looks like!”

Gu Lizhou was forced to shift backward, barely making room before Zhong Weishi suddenly executed a sharp drift. The bike tilted dramatically, the handlebars nearly scraping the ground.

With his long legs, Gu Lizhou ended up with one knee on the floor, quickly gripping Zhong Weishi’s shoulder to keep himself from falling off.

Another rapid drift sent the bike veering hard to the left.

Gu Lizhou dizzily followed and swayed to the other side.

Zhong Weishi kept his eyes locked on the screen. The moment another black motorcycle appeared, he jerked the bike sharply to the right, ramming into Duan Yi, who had been chasing from behind.

Gu Lizhou’s stomach churned—he nearly threw up the wontons he had for breakfast.

Duan Yi, proud and competitive, couldn’t tolerate being knocked aside like that. After getting sent flying, he relentlessly pursued Zhong Weishi, determined to shove him off the track in retaliation.

Zhong Weishi dodged frantically.

The race had reached a fever pitch.

Gu Lizhou considered hopping off but hesitated, afraid the swaying bike might hit him in the crotch. So, he opted for the safer choice—wrapping an arm around the boy’s waist.

It was firm.

Their body heat seeped through the fabric, and Zhong Weishi glanced down at the arm around his waist.

The wristwatch was tilted at an angle, making the dial unreadable. Beside the prominent wrist bone, a thin red string had somehow appeared—cheap street vendor stuff. Against Gu Lizhou’s fair skin and defined knuckles, it stood out strikingly…

A strange, indescribable feeling surfaced.

“Watch out, watch out!” The slender fingers suddenly gripped his side.

Zhong Weishi’s breath hitched, his entire body going rigid—then he crashed straight into an oncoming truck.

Boom—

His heartbeat and the sound of the motorcycle exploding overlapped perfectly.

Zhong Weishi hadn’t actually taken the matter of the birthday gift to heart—he had only mentioned it in passing.

Thinking back to last year, when he celebrated his birthday with Qiangzi and the others, his gift had been a pack of spicy strips. The packaging featured a skull and a row of edgy, stylized characters: Reaper Spicy Strips.

“Happy birthday ah, birthday boy! Try it out, this stuff is amazing! A hundred times better than Weilong!”

Zhong Weishi had taken a big bite full of anticipation, only for an overwhelming, burning spiciness to surge through his entire body, hitting straight to his organs. It choked him to the point that he was filled with tears and couldn’t open his eyes.

That wasn’t just any regular spicy strip. A single lick was enough to burn away all sensation in people’s taste buds. He had suffered by the sink, rinsing his mouth in agony for a full 30 minutes, yet the numbness on his tongue remained. His mouth burned so intensely that he couldn’t even close it properly, and saliva kept pooling uncontrollably.

Meanwhile, the culprits behind it all laughed heartlessly on the side.

The next day, his ass still had a lingering, fiery sensation.

To him, the word “gift” had always just meant something for fun, so he hadn’t expected Gu Lizhou to put much thought into picking one.

He had to admit that Gu Lizhou’s handwriting was as impressive as the person himself. It was nearly identical to Wan Lizhou’s signature!

He must have practiced for a long time.

Zhong Weishi was paralyzed on the bed in a “大” shape, kicked his feet lazily, then buried his face deep into his pillow with a long sigh.

Thinking back on it, he felt too embarrassed. If he had known, he would’ve just pretended to have been cheated!

His right hand brushed over the keyboard, and the system emitted a rhythmic tapping sound as he typed.

[Weishi]: I got too excited just now, I think I forgot to say thank you.

[Gigolo]: You’re welcome.

[Weishi]: That watch must’ve been expensive. It’s really a waste of money.

[Gigolo]: Making up for all the fatherly love you’ve lacked over the years.

Zhong Weishi burst out laughing at the message.

Typing with one hand was a bit laborious, so Zhong Weishi shifted positions, propping himself up on his elbow.

[Weishi]: When’s your birthday?

[Gigolo]: Father’s Day next year.

[Weishi]: Are you done yet?! Be serious!

[Gigolo]: 2.29

[Weishi]: What the fvck! For real?

Gu Lizhou sent a photo of his ID to prove he wasn’t lying.

The ID photo was newly taken. Zhong Weishi zoomed in and stared at it for a while.

A rare gem.¹This can also be a slang for someone who is outrageous or annoying to the extreme.

[Weishi]: You’re miserable. Doesn’t that mean you get way fewer birthdays than everyone else?

[Gigolo]: Yeah, once every four years.

[Weishi]: So you’re only seven this year? Hahahaha

[Gigolo]: …

[Weishi]: I’ve got your birthday noted! When the time comes, I’ll celebrate your lunar birthday with you!

Gu Lizhou stared at that last message in a daze for a long time.

He couldn’t even remember the last time someone had celebrated his birthday with him. Maybe seven or eight years ago? He had never cared much for these occasions.

But looking at that exclamation mark at the end of the message, he suddenly found himself looking forward to his birthday.

A freshly lit cigarette rested between his fingers. He tapped the screen with one finger and sent a voice message: “Alright, get some rest.”

[Lunatic]: Mm, good night.

“Good night.”

By the time their chat ended, it was already past eleven.

Gu Lizhou wasn’t the least bit sleepy. Sitting at his desk, his mind drifted back to the moment his cover had been blown today.

His thoughts wandered to that night when Zhong Weishi blew rainbow farts.

Zhong Weishi had said that reading his work made him feel a sense of strength.

Fate was a strange thing. The strength he had given to others years ago had now, in a roundabout way, found its way back to him.

No matter how resounding a reputation might be, one day it will fade into the past. The only thing that truly gave life meaning was perseverance.

It didn’t matter how many people left—what mattered was that there would always be someone still waiting for him.

He later thought about it carefully. He realized that maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing that the barrier between them hadn’t been broken. Given his current state of disarray, if he revealed himself to Zhong Weishi now, the image of the white moonlight would probably shatter.

He wanted to become his old self again.

He wanted the next 10 years, 20 years, 30 years… to hold more meaning. He wanted to reach old age and still be able to look back with pride.

—I’ve been uncertain, disappointed, lost, and broken. I’ve fallen, but I stood up again and found my way.

Gu Lizhou fixed his gaze on the screen and started typing.

The unfocused look in his eyes sharpened into one of determination.

Following the sudden burst of inspiration from last time, he began outlining the main plot and various subplots, preparing to write a lengthy suspense novel.

The protagonist’s character design and the rough framework of the story had already taken shape. The murder of a streamer would serve as the first case, and from there, he would gradually refine each storyline and correct any logical inconsistencies.

He had read countless works in this genre, but this was his first time actually writing one himself.

He had no idea how long it would take to finish, how many obstacles he would encounter along the way, or how many people would still be willing to read it once it was done.

But he knew one thing—this moment marked a new beginning in his life.

One day, he would stand before his die-hard fans again and make them take back that “you’re too old to write” remark.

Wan Lizhou wasn’t some kind of genius, but he had always been incredible. Anyone who could persist in chasing their dreams were incredible.

The sound of typing finally ceased at four in the morning. Gu Lizhou went to bed, only to be woken up at eight by the noises coming from the kitchen. He got up and continued researching.

Meanwhile, just a few walls away, Zhong Weishi had spent the whole night in a state of excitement—one moment fiddling with his new watch’s calendar function, the next watching Da Fei’s livestream. Right before bed, he suddenly remembered that fine he needed to pay and immediately sprang up from his bed to write an IOU, even adding in the 4,000 + rent he still owed from last time.

Early morning.

Cao Zhiheng was hanging clothes on the balcony when Zhong Weishi passed by, nodding a quick greeting before heading straight for Gu Lizhou’s room.

“Hey, rich guy… about last night…” His sentence abruptly cut off, the rest of his words stuck in his throat.

Because he saw Gu Lizhou’s computer screen switch from one interface straight to the desktop in an instant.

There were only two reasons why a man would react like this: One, he was playing games at work and got caught by his boss. Two, he was watching p0rn and jerking off when someone suddenly walked in.

The man sitting in front of his desk wore thin-framed glasses. His expression was one of sheer panic. His mouth was slightly open, like a wooden statue, unable to react.

The answer was painfully obvious!

No way, Gu Lizhou…

Zhong Weishi’s mind went “Ew~” in an instant.

Gu Lizhou’s desk was positioned with his back to the door. If this guy hadn’t barged in so aggressively, he wouldn’t have had time to react at all.

He glanced at his laptop again, making sure all his documents were minimized, then turned around and shouted, “Who told you to enter without knocking? Get out and come back in again!”

“Oh.” Zhong Weishi pouted, backed out, and knocked three times. “Excuse me, is the rich guy home?”

Gu Lizhou snorted. “Come in.”

More surprising than the thought of Gu Lizhou watching p0rn first thing in the morning was the sight of him wearing glasses.

This man was always particular about his lifestyle. Even in his 30s, his skin was still smooth and fair. The thin black-gold frames perched on his high nose bridge made him look refined and handsome.

His desk was covered in papers, his right hand still resting on the mouse. His bangs partially obscured his brows, giving him a scholarly look that Zhong Weishi had never seen before.

Behind the lenses, his eyes lacked their usual laziness. Instead, they were deep and serious, as if he were a completely different person.

This was the first time he had seen a man who looked better with glasses.

But at the same time, there was an undeniable air of a well-dressed scoundrel about him.

Feeling a bit embarrassed, Zhong Weishi scratched the back of his head. “Did I interrupt something?”

“What?” Gu Lizhou’s mind was filled with: Shit, shit, what to answer if the little beast asked? My identity won’t be exposed just like that, right?

It took him a moment to register the suggestive look in Zhong Weishi’s eyes. Then, with a quick and decisive slap, he snapped, “What the hell is going on in your head?”

“Isn’t that what you were doing?” Zhong Weishi’s gaze swept over Gu Lizhou’s crotch—jeans, no suspicious bulges, zipper intact. “Then what were you looking at?”

“None of your goddamn business.” Gu Lizhou shut his laptop and climbed onto his bed.

His guilty-looking actions only fueled Zhong Weishi’s imagination. “Are you sure?”

“Of course I am.” Gu Lizhou answered frankly.

“Why are you wearing glasses now ah?” Zhong Weishi pinched the frame and perched it on his own nose. “Damn, these actually have a prescription ah.”

“No shit. Why would I wear them otherwise?”

“For the aesthetic. I wear non-prescription ones for my roles when I play those refined scoundrels.” Zhong Weishi looked at him. “You wearing glasses makes you look kinda…”

He originally meant to say “refined ah”, but Gu Lizhou kept staring at him with that deep, unreadable gaze. His throat tightened for no reason, and somehow, the words that came out were—“like a total scoundrel ah.”

What followed was a violent beating.

Zhong Weishi rolled on the bed clutching a pillow, but Gu Lizhou leaped on him, locking him in place like he was tying up a crab. Then he started tickling him mercilessly. “Still trying to run?”

Zhong Weishi laughed so hard that he kicked the air, gripping Gu Lizhou’s wrist with all his strength, but he was too weak from the tickling to push him away. The whole room was filled with breathless laughter and gasps for air.

In the struggle, his hand accidentally scratched Gu Lizhou’s jaw, leaving three distinct red marks on his fair skin.

Zhong Weishi sucked in a breath. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re dead.” Gu Lizhou straddled his thigh and resumed his tickle attack.

Zhong Weishi squirmed like a slippery eel, laughing so hard he was out of breath. He finally managed to grab Gu Lizhou’s wrist and pleaded in desperation, “I, I—I was wrong!”

Gu Lizhou twisted his arm back and pinned him down, leaning in closer. “Admitting defeat?”

A soft pillow was the only thing between them. Zhong Weishi caught a whiff of his fragrant shampoo.

He stared into Gu Lizhou’s eyes, dark like stars in the midnight sky.

For some reason, his heart was pounding uncontrollably.

In just two seconds of eye contact, his ears started burning with embarrassment. He blinked and quickly nodded. “Admitting defeat.”

Gu Lizhou finally let go, smoothing out his wrinkled shirt with a smile. “So, what was so urgent that you came running over?”

Zhong Weishi scratched his ear, then pulled a crumpled IOU from his pocket and slapped it onto the desk. “Here, for you—rent, plus the fine. I’ll pay you back when I save up enough.”

“So obedient?” Gu Lizhou glanced at the atrociously written note. “Can you pay it off within six months?”

“No idea ah. If I can’t, I’ll just drag it out a little longer.” Zhong Weishi grinned.

Right next to the note was Gu Lizhou’s handwritten character outline.

Both their gazes landed on the same spot.

“Ai?” Zhong Weishi’s eyes lit up. “What are you writing…” Just as he was about to reach out and flip it open, Gu Lizhou snatched it away, uncharacteristically stumbling over his words. “Uh, have you, have you had breakfast yet?”

“Not yet ah.”

“Go, go, go. Let’s eat breakfast.” Gu Lizhou slung an arm over his shoulder and steered him toward the door.

“What were you writing?” Zhong Weishi twisted his head back for another look.

“Practicing writing.”

“Oh. You paying for breakfast?”

“Please. Did you brush your teeth and wash your face?” Gu Lizhou kept switching topics.

“I did.”

“Oh? Then why do you still have eye gunk in the corner of your eyes?”

“No way.” Zhong Weishi rubbed his eyes. “I really did. Smell if you don’t believe me.”

“Roll.”

Actually, Gu Lizhou had already been forced by Cao Zhiheng to drink a bowl of porridge and eat two buns earlier that morning. He only asked the question to change the subject—who would’ve thought this brat hadn’t eaten anything at this hour?

At the breakfast shop, he only ordered a serving of shrimp wontons.

“Are you even a man? That tiny portion wouldn’t even fill the gap between your teeth,” Zhong Weishi remarked.

“Just order your own.” Gu Lizhou pulled out a Grandpa Mao from his wallet and placed it on the counter. “Eat as much as you can.”

Zhong Weishi’s appetite kicked in, and he ordered a deluxe family-sized wonton bowl, a serving of pan-fried buns, and a mung bean soup.

“Do you eat crab roe soup dumplings? They’re really good—thin skin, lots of broth.” Zhong Weishi tilted his head, studying the menu.

Gu Lizhou: “If you want them, just order them ah.”

“But if I can’t finish them, it’d be a waste. So, I need to check how much space your stomach still has.”

Gu Lizhou thought for a moment. “About 30%-40% left.”

“30%-40% of what? A bowl of wontons? Your 30%-40% percent and my 30%-40% might be completely different. Qiangzi’s 30%-40% might be ten bowls of instant noodles.” Zhong Weishi analyzed it seriously.

Too lazy to argue, Gu Lizhou directly told the little girl behind the cashier to add a serving of crab roe soup dumplings.

“You’re so generous,” Zhong Weishi said.

“Just remember to be filial to me properly in the future.”

“Got it la—”

Since there wasn’t much work this morning, Zhong Weishi found a quiet corner to slowly enjoy his hearty breakfast.

The breakfast shop had WiFi, so while waiting for his food, he scrolled through his WeChat group messages.

[Huangfu]: Da Fei, don’t be afraid. I’ve got your back. He wouldn’t dare do anything to you.

[Da Fei]: I’m just worried he’ll come to the shop and cause trouble. If my parents find out, I’m done for. T_T This guy is seriously sick.

[Wei-ge]: @Weishi @Weishi Are you awake? Big news!! Da Fei got hit on!

[Huangfu]: That grandson wants to race me.

Zhong Weishi’s pupils dilated instantly. He quickly scrolled up to check the chat history.

The “grandson” Qiangzi mentioned was none other than the guy who had been wildly throwing gifts at Da Fei—‘Oops, That’s What If Feels Like.’

After Zhong Weishi went offline last night, the two of them had a heated argument in the live stream. Because ‘Oops’ had declared himself as Da Fei’s boyfriend on the platform which Da Fei outright denied it.

This whole mess traced back to the night when Gu Lizhou and Zhong Weishi watched the stream together.

Back then, Qiangzi had only sent a few aircraft carriers before his balance ran dry. But ‘‘Oops’’ had dropped a whopping 60,000 yuan in one go, shocking everyone in the live broadcast room.

After brushing the gift, he asked to add Da Fei on WeChat to become friends.

Anyone with a bit of life experience could tell what that really meant. Naturally, Da Fei refused. At first, he didn’t add the guy and instead privately messaged him, asking for his Alipay account to return the money.

Not only did ‘Oops’ refuse to accept it, but the next day, he came back and threw in another massive donation.

Feeling guilty, Da Fei eventually added him, intending to return the money and put an end to this shady “business.”

But the moment he added him, his Moments revealed his workplace—Legendary Hair Salon on Yueshan Street.

‘Oops’ not only refused the refund but also started hitting on him.

[Oops]: You’ve never even tried it. How can you be sure you won’t like it? I promise I’ll make you feel good.

[Da Fei]: Stop talking.

[Oops]: You’re really not willing to spend a night with me for this much money? Is it not enough? I can send you more if you want ah.

True to his name,²His name can also mean “what terrible luck.” ‘Oops’ had made a truly awful opening remark, which only made Da Fei furious.

[Da Fei]: You’re sick! I’m not for sale. I can return every cent of what you sent me, and I won’t be broadcasting anymore.

[Oops]: I’m not short on money. Once I’ve given it to you, it’s yours.

[Oops]: Can’t I at least try to chase you slowly? Don’t reject me so quickly. You don’t even know me yet.

[Da Fei]: I have no interest in knowing you.

[Oops]: It’s hard for me when you’re like this.

[Da Fei]: It’s hard for me too when you’re like this.

[Oops]: I’ll come find you.

After Zhong Weishi finished reading the chat logs Da Fei had shared, he felt deeply unsettled.

Meanwhile, Gu Lizhou casually sipped on the mung bean soup from his bowl and chuckled, “Da Fei really is popular with guys ah.”

Zhong Weishi’s eyes widened in suspicion. “Wait, don’t tell me you like him too!”

“I’m not into that type,” Gu Lizhou replied, taking another sip.

“Oh, you scared me for a second.” Zhong Weishi looked down, but then a sudden realization struck him. He shot up in alarm. “Wait—holy shit, you like guys too ah!”

Every head in the shop turned in unison.

The result of his outburst made Gu Lizhou shove his face into the bowl of mung bean soup.

Although Gu Lizhou later clarified that he liked the opposite sex, Zhong Weishi remained skeptical of that answer.

“I heard from Uncle Cao that you don’t have a girlfriend. Why is that?”

“Couldn’t find one. Haven’t met someone who makes my heart race.”

“It shouldn’t be ah… Someone with your looks should be easy to find a match for ah.”

“How would I know? Maybe I’m just destined to be unlucky in love. Who has a smooth-sailing life anyway?” Gu Lizhou stirred the small wontons in his bowl. “I mean, I’m rich, good-looking, and have a great personality. I’m practically perfect. Maybe the heavens thought—”

Before he could finish, the person across from him gagged.

Gu Lizhou picked up his chopsticks and knocked them against his forehead.

Zhong Weishi squinted at him, tilting his head. “You sure you don’t have some unspeakable secret?”

Gu Lizhou sighed, worn down by his persistence. “Fine. I just like men, okay?”

His tone was so reluctant that Zhong Weishi found it hard to believe.

The topic shifted back to the group chat records.

Da Fei usually acted shy and reserved, but at the end of the day, he was still a man. There was only so much harassment from “Oops” he could take before he snapped and blocked him.

“Oops” went to the live platform, threatening to show up at Da Fei’s workplace if he didn’t agree to “get back together.”

Qiangzi, furious on Da Fei’s behalf, immediately cursed him out, calling him a pervert and a retarded gay. The two got into a heated argument.

To Qiangzi, a man’s dignity was as important as his life.

Since arguing online wasn’t satisfying enough, they decided to settle it offline.

Zhong Weishi gave Gu Lizhou a brief rundown of the situation. As someone who had long “retired from jianghu,” Gu Lizhou found it utterly ridiculous.

What was even worth fighting over?

Childish.

But what Zhong Weishi was more concerned about was—Qiangzi only had a little electric scooter. What the hell was he planning to race with ah!?

Qiangzi sent over the racing location which was a certain Wanda Plaza in the downtown area.

Gu Lizhou was forcibly dragged along by Zhong Weishi to watch the commotion.

–

At the main entrance.

Zhong Weishi was looking down, searching for possible drag racing spots near Wanda Plaza.

The area was full of traffic lights, making it dangerous even for an electric scooter race. If the police caught them, it’d be over. So, he turned to the cultured one beside him for help in wording a message to stop this so-called battle between men.

“What a bunch of childish idiots.” Gu Lizhou had no problem speaking from a place of comfort. “Just let them race ah. It’ll be a great chance to get acquainted with the traffic police.”

Zhong Weishi gave him a blank look and sent a voice message to the group: “Qiangzi, listen. Can you talk to him and reconsider? No racing, no fighting. We live in a civilized society, so let’s strive to be civilized people.”

“How about a contest to see who can recite the Eight Honors and Eight Shames first? I’ll join too! Trust me, I’ll win for sure!”

Gu Lizhou: “…”

At that moment, A’Wei came running from Wanda Plaza’s main entrance.

“Weishi, hurry! They’re already warming up!”

“Are they insane?” Zhong Weishi rushed after him, but something felt off. As they ran, he realized something was wrong—Wei-ge was leading them straight into the mall.

“Where the hell are we going? Weren’t they supposed to race?”

“Yeah, third-floor arcade. Motorcycle racing competition.”

Gu Lizhou: “…”

Zhong Weishi: “…”

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.