Zhong Weishi sat on the back seat of the electric scooter, listening to Qiangzi methodically laying out the work plan for tomorrow.
“Here’s the plan. First, we get the woman to call Er’Gou and lure him back home. Then, Da Fei and I will wait at the door to stop him if he tries to run, while A’Wei squats at the balcony to make sure he doesn’t jump. Your job is to go inside and negotiate with the person.”
“Like, ‘You’re surrounded!’ or ‘If you don’t pay up, we’ll burn down your old house!’ Make your tone as fierce and ruthless as possible, and channel the menacing aura of a mafia boss. If needed, we’ll step out to cheer you on.”
“…” So, for half a day, everyone else is in spectator mode while he’s the only person actually going in?”
“Then what’s the point of you guys stepping out? To be my sidekick?” Zhong Weishi rolled his eyes in exasperation. They might as well just sit in the hallway and eat takeout.
Qiangzi thought that his Shi-ge was bursting with confidence and said, “Alright ba, we won’t say anything at all when the time comes.”
“…” Zhong Weishi was starting to regret taking on this job. “What about Da Fei and A’Wei? How will the money be split? A quarter each?”
“I’ll treat them to a meal afterward, hehe.” Qiangzi grinned into the wind, “You’re not like them.”
Finally, Zhong Weishi felt a small bit of comfort.
After all, in this world, the strong are always alone.
Then he heard Qiangzi say with complete seriousness, “After all, you’ve acted as a corpse before, and your whole body is full of artistic cells. If you can’t beat the other party, you can just lie down and pretend to drop dead on the spot. We’ll use that to extort some more money out of him!”
Zhong Weishi gritted his teeth, pronouncing the word “Roll!” with rising and falling intensity.
The scenery along the way kept changing—from the bright, densely packed skyscr4p3rs to the mismatched, peeling residential buildings.
The air on the street was not only filled with the stench of rancid gutter oil, but also the smell of rotting food, as if it was seeping out of long-neglected sewage pipes.
The scooter stopped.
“Tomorrow at noon, don’t be late ah. I’ll send the address to your WeChat in a bit. Make sure to wear a tank top to give that tattoo on your chest a half-revealed, mysterious look,” Qiangzi turned around and said.
Zhong Weishi stared blankly at the dilapidated entrance of the apartment building, lost in thought.
It wasn’t until Qiangzi nudged his arm that he snapped out of it, letting out an unintelligible “Ah” “What?”
Qiangzi repeated himself and casually sent the address to his WeChat.
Building 13, Room 701, Qingfeng Garden.
Zhong Weishi stared at the address on his phone and slowly stepped onto the concrete staircase in the hallway.
The apartment building he lived in had eight floors but no elevator. The entire structure was designed in a concave shape, with each floor housing about ten families. Some of the residents were elderly people who had lived there for decades, but most, like him, who have no one to depend on and can’t afford to buy a house.
This was the oldest, most rundown apartment complex in all of Yucheng—no exceptions.
In the dim, narrow hallway, the only sound was the echo of his footsteps.
The voice-activated lights in the corridor had been broken for months, and no one had come to fix them.
There was no property management here.
Neighbors didn’t know each other, and most followed the “mind your own business” mentality. No one was willing to pay to fix the lights.
Naturally, he was no exception.
No money.
He counted the cash in his wallet. If he paid the rent this month, he would be left with 1,200 yuan. Subtracting the necessary expenses, it would barely last him until the end of the month.
The main reason he was so strapped for cash was that his former roommate had moved out after switching jobs, and no new tenant had been found yet. So, now he had to pay double the rent every month.
In his pinned WeChat group, “Dream Chasers,” there were dozens of unread messages.
The group chat consisted of over 20 extras, just like him, who hustled for roles at the film and television city. Whenever a crew needed extras, they’d notify each other in the group as soon as possible.
He had joined the group three years ago, back when there were more than 50 members, men and women, both young and old.
They often stuck together for mutual support.
A few lucky ones had managed to break into the 18th-tier of celebrity status and quit the group, but most were eliminated by the harsh realities of life, returning home to “inherit the family business” as nobodies.
Today, the group was once again full of complaints. The reason: the crew of “Distant Cousin Comes to the City” had promised 200 yuan a day, but in the end, they only paid 150, claiming the rest went towards meal expenses.
[Nan Nan]: A box of white rice with two veggie sides—pigs wouldn’t even eat that. So fvcking disgusting.
[Sun Xiaozhou]: I’m never going to that crew again. They’re so stingy, and the director’s demands are ridiculous. He actually said my performance when ‘rising from the dead’ lacked realism. How the hell would I know what that looks like? I’ve never seen someone come back from the dead!
A string of “hahahaha” followed in response.
Zhong Weishi smiled but didn’t reply.
The main reason he had joined this group in the first place was just to catch some leftovers. He never really formed close connections with anyone in it.
Still, he hoped the group remained lively; at the very least, it gave him a sense of direction for the future.
Look—
There were a whole bunch of people, just like him, who were trying to strive toward the same goal.
It wasn’t a lonely path, and there were already people who had succeeded.
No matter how many failed attempts he’d faced, life was still full of hope ah…
By ten o’clock, the night had wrapped the city in an impenetrable darkness, yet the noise outside the apartment building persisted.
Zhong Weishi stood in the cramped bathroom, taking a shower. Through the window, he could see the rows of late night snack stalls across the street.
Stir-fried noodles, fried rice, stir-fried flat noodles, jianbing, roast duck, oden… Each stall had a warm yellow light hanging from the top.
From afar, they looked like scattered stars blending into the night.
He had been here for four years and had grown accustomed to the unchanging night scenes and streets.
Bustling… yet lonely.
He wasn’t the only lonely person.
Before going to bed, he stared at the peeling wallpaper and prayed that tomorrow’s debt collection would go smoothly.
The result was a nightmare.
When he woke up, he vaguely remembered the last scene from his dream.
A muscular bald thug roared, “Come on men ah, get them!” Ten thugs in floral shirts stood in a line, all of them holding weapons in their arms. They charged at them to hack them furiously, Qiangzi had his arm chopped off and died on the spot.
Just as the barrel of a gun was pointed at him, he jolted awake.
Before brushing his teeth, he rushed across the street to the pancake stall and shouted, “Aunt Song, one jianbing!”
“Ai~ Ok~”
This place looked completely different during the day and night.
The street seemed a bit deserted.
By around eight o’clock, the city enforcements would start patrolling, shutting down any stalls they saw. It would cost several hundred yuan in fines to get their carts back, so everyone usually packed up before the enforcement showed up.
At 7:30, Auntie Song’s cart was the only one left on the street.
He had heard people say that Auntie Song’s husband was a gambling addict who squandered all their savings before running off, leaving her with two children. She rented a place nearby.
Every night, Auntie Song set up her stall at 6 PM. After the late-night rush, she’d go back to prepare for the next day, barely getting any sleep. By 4 AM, she was back at it again, working until 8 in the morning.
Day after day, year after year, all for one purpose—so her two sons could go to school.
Some people’s lives seem to end before they’ve even truly begun.
Compared to that, Zhong Weishi felt somewhat lucky.
He was free.
At least he still had dreams to chase
After wrapping up a morning of acting work, Zhong Weishi changed out of the yellowish-brown Japanese soldier uniform and caught a ride to the southern district.
While waiting at the bus stop, he quickly devoured the cheap boxed lunch he had taken from the set.
The granny waiting for the bus beside him couldn’t help but advise, “Young man ah, eating like that isn’t good for digestion. You’ll hurt your stomach.”
Zhong Weishi threw the empty box away, scratched his head, and mumbled, “I’m used to it.”
As soon as he boarded the bus, his phone in his pocket started vibrating.
He saw that Qiangzi had ceremoniously changed the group name from “The Tall, Poor, and Handsome Guys of Xicheng District” to “Xicheng District’s Express Debt Collection Team.”
[Huangfu]: Ge, where are you? We’re already in position!
Attached to the message was a selfie of Qiangzi, Da Fei, and A’Wei, the three of them lined up in front of Room 701. All three pointed dramatically at the room number with exaggerated expressions, looking like they had just escaped from a mental institution.
Zhong Weishi scrolled up through the chat history.
[Huangfu]: Later, we need to shout with authority—Er’Gou! You’re surrounded! Hand over 100,000 yuan and we’ll spare your life!
[Da Fei]: When the time comes, he’ll definitely be so scared he’ll pee his pants, hahaha.
“…”
[Weishi]: Is anyone home?
[Da Fei]: Seems like there is, but maybe there isn’t.
[Weishi]: …So, is there or not?
[Wei Ge]: We haven’t knocked on the door yet.
[Weishi]: So what the hell are you guys even doing?
[Huangfu]: We’re waiting for you ah!!! Without you! We’re like moths in the night, with no flame to fly towards. We’re like camels wandering the lonely desert, without a source of water. We’re like the Earth without Einstein, deprived of its source of light.
[Da Fei]: Wait, I seem to remember that it was Edison who invented the lightbulb, right?
[Wei Ge]: Then what did that guy in the wheelchair, Hawking, invent?
[Huangfu]: He wrote a bunch of essays that we were required to memorize. I hated him when I was in school.
[Wei Ge]: Ah, I remember! He wrote that essay, “The Light”, right?
This conversation wasn’t going anywhere.
Zhong Weishi resisted the urge to change the group name to “My Pig-like Teammates”1Means useless teammates. and quit the group altogether. Instead, he searched for Qingfeng Garden’s exact location on the map.
Fortunately. there was a bus stop right outside the complex.
It was definitely different in rich neighborhoods. In his slum, there weren’t even bus stops. Every time he went out to catch a bus, he felt like a stupid kid from the mountains hiking over hills just to get to school.
When he got home at night, the first thing he always had to do was pick the blisters on his feet in the dim light.
Unfortunately, when he arrived at the entrance of Qingfeng Garden, he realized that being close to the stop didn’t help.
For someone with no sense of direction, stepping into the complex was like walking into a moving maze—every path seemed like one he had just taken.
Zhong Weishi dialed Qiangzi’s number for the third time. “I’m standing under a big tree right now. Where the hell are you people ah?!”
“What a coincidence! I’m also under a big tree!” Qiangzi sounded almost ecstatic. “How come I don’t see you ah!”
Zhong Weishi replied, “Take a good look at the tree near you. Does it have any distinctive features? I’ll try to figure out if I passed by it earlier.”
Qiangzi tilted his head back and observed. “fvck! I just realized there’s a bird’s nest up here! I wonder if there are any eggs I can fish out. If there are, we could add them to our dinner tonight!”
Unmoved by the temptation, Zhong Weishi clenched his teeth and reminded him, “Qiangzi, we need to focus on the bigger picture right now. Let’s leave the trivial bird eggs for later. Describe any other features of the tree, or maybe just tell me its species.”
After a moment of thought, Qiangzi responded, “I’ve also noticed this tree is balder than the others around it.”
Zhong Weishi: “…”
“I know it’s Building 13. It’s not like I’ve never been here before…”
That comment suddenly drifted past Zhong Weishi’s ear. His legs froze in place, and he turned his head discreetly, catching sight of a man’s back.
The man wore a white shirt and neatly pressed slacks, his tall, lean frame accentuated by the tailored fit. A fine leather belt outlined his slim waist.
Both sleeves were rolled up slightly, exposing his sharp wrist bones and a watch.
Having spent years working with artists on set, Zhong Weishi had some knowledge of luxury watches. One glance at the design of the watch face, and he could tell it was something expensive.
With the blazing sun at his head, the material of the shirt became slightly translucent which revealed faint outlines of the man’s hidden arm muscles.
“I’m not retarded. How could I possibly get lost?”
“…”
If it wasn’t for the fact that the other party was holding a phone in his hand, Zhong Weishi would have thought that he was being insulted.
“Are we getting food? I haven’t eaten yet,” The man said in a deep, pleasant voice.
Zhong Weishi quickly wrapped up his conversation with Qiangzi on the phone and then calmly followed the man.
The man looked back after turning into Building 13.
Their eyes met unexpectedly.
In that brief moment, a line from the female lead’s dialogue earlier that day drifted through Zhong Weishi’s mind: That gentleman is so handsome, just one glance is enough to make your heart race.
For the first time, Zhong Weishi realized that the phrase “sword-like brows and starry eyes” could apply to someone other than a novel’s male lead.
The man was about the same height as Zhong Weishi, with neatly combed short hair that added just a slight edge to his height. He exuded a clean, crisp aura, and his deep-set eyes had a sharp intensity to them.
He appeared to be in his early thirties, radiating a strong presence.
Zhong Weishi watched as the man lifted a finger to press a button.
The door opened.
They entered the elevator, one after the other.
The man’s lips moved, “Which floor?”
Zhong Weishi looked at him, “7th floor.”
The man pressed “7” and made no further movements.
Such a coincidence?
Zhong Weishi stole a sideways glance at him out of the corner of his eye.
The man had his head lowered, one hand in his pocket, while his right hand tapped away at his phone screen.
It wasn’t Weibo, WeChat, or a game…
Rather, it was the news app.
Definitely an old man ah, Zhong Weishi thought to himself.
“Ding—” As soon as the elevator sounded, the man locked his phone and turned to the right.
In Qingfeng Garden, each floor had two households, with their doors facing each other, separated by only a narrow hallway and the elevator.
Zhong Weishi looked at the man’s back, noticing that Da Fei and A’Wei, who had just been discussing great world figures in the group chat, were now squatting by the door of Unit 701, staring at him.
Zhong Weishi gestured silently, pointing at the man’s back, mouthing, “Is it him?”
Da Fei, being the brainless one that he was, stood up, looking directly at Zhong Weishi, and practically walked over, saying, “Ge, what did you say? I can’t hear you.”
Zhong Weishi wanted to kill him on the spot.
Before anything else could happen, A’Wei stepped forward, grabbing the man’s wrist just as he was about to knock on the door. His face twisted into a fierce expression. “Er’Gou, I’ve been waiting here for you for ages.”
The man frowned, looking bewildered as he tried to pull his arm back, only to realize that A’Wei’s grip was unrelenting. “You’ve got the wrong person.”
“Hmph, hmph…” A’Wei, feeling an unprecedented boost to his IQ, saw through what he believed to be the enemy’s trick. Tightening his grip, he sneered, “You think I’m that easy to fool? I’d recognize you even if you turned to dust.”
Zhong Weishi was surprised. How could such a well-dressed man, who looked so distinguished, have fallen to the point of becoming a plaything for rich women? At the same time, he had to admire A’Wei’s exceptional on-the-spot reaction and improvisational dialogue skills.
A true fan of revenge dramas.
He couldn’t believe that this was the same person as the retard who had been talking about whether Hawking had written essays a few minutes earlier in the group chat.
Zhong Weishi felt a lot of emotions inside. A perfectly good man, why not live a proper life? It wasn’t like he hadn’t been given a chance.
Was this a distortion of human nature or a degeneration of morality?
Without missing a beat, Zhong Weishi stepped forward, shoving the man against the door and pinning him firmly. Channeling Qiangzi, who wasn’t present, he shouted the rallying cry of the Xicheng Debt Collection Team: “Er’Gou! You’re surrounded!”