Month: October 2024 (Page 1 of 2)

“fvck, it’s still fvcking there.” Zhong Weishi exclaimed in surprise, eagerly leaning in to tap the avatar.

The fluffy and soft hair lightly touched someone’s cheek.

It was a bit itchy.

Gu Lizhou touched his cheek and shifted the phone a little farther away.

From a distance, it looked like the two of them had their heads huddled together.

The lighting in the last video was a bit dim, but it was clear that the background was a huge shopping mall. The colorful ground lights beneath flickered on and off.

Zhong Weishi turned up the volume.

His phone was a classic model—no longer in production.

Nothing worked but if put out, it was NB.

A booming dance track, mixed with crackling static, echoed sharply in the quiet hallway.

“In my hand, the rose has burned to ashes,

In front of the girl, people come and go…

…

Sincerity, real intention, true love, true feelings are rare,

It’s not a crime for a man to be penniless.

Will you choose Chen Shimei¹Chinese opera character and a byword in China for a heartless and unfaithful man. He was married to Qin Xianglian, also translated as Fragrant Lotus. Chen Shimei betrayed Qin Xianglian by marrying another woman, and tried to kill her to cover up his past. or become a butterfly, flying in pairs…”

There was even a bit of a tongue-twisting rap in the middle, but Zhong Weishi only caught two lines clearly.

“Love, love, I ask you.

What the hell is it!”

When he looked up, he noticed that even the pretty boy was laughing.

The camera first focused on a woman’s chest, then panned down her curvy figure.

“Damn. What the hell is this pervert filming?” Zhong Weishi’s hand slipped, and he almost accidentally liked the video. “How the hell did your mom end up with this kind of person?”

Gu Lizhou’s tone was cold, “I don’t know.”

Zhong Weishi continued scrolling through the videos.

Most of them were candid shots taken in public squares, with a clear focus on attractive women—those with good looks, graceful figures, and talent for dancing.

Eventually, Zhong Weishi came across a video of Li Yuqin. She stood out in the center of the square like a crane among chickens, happily spinning and leaping in her dance.

“I’ve got to admit, your mom’s dance moves are pretty good,” He remarked, almost tempted to double-tap for a like.

Gu Lizhou handed the phone back. “Although these filming locations aren’t all the same, we might be able to deduce his current residence using the ‘circumference theory.’”

“The what theory?” Zhong Weishi was completely lost.

Gu Lizhou briefly explained, “Draw markings on all the squares that appear in the videos on a map. Then, take the distance between the two furthest locations as the diameter and draw a circle. If nothing unexpected happens, Er’Gou’s usual activity range will be within that circle.”

“You’re that sure?” Zhong Weishi was deeply skeptical.

“If it were you, and you went out at night to dance in a square, where would you go?” Gu Lizhou asked.

“I don’t dance in squares,” Zhong Weishi shook his head.

“Assuming you dance,” Gu Lizhou said.

“Then why don’t you assume you dance?!” Zhong Weishi stretched his neck.

Gu Lizhou replied calmly, “If it were me, it’d definitely be near my house—someplace I could walk to or get to by electric scooter. It’s more convenient that way.”

“You some kind of criminal investigator or something ah?”

Gu Lizhou shrugged, “Some theoretical common sense.”

Though this guy deserves a spanking, Zhong Weishi had to admit there was some logic to the theory. So, he sent the clue to Qiangzi and the others.

[Huangfu]: Holy crap, NB ah ge! You actually found him! I’m gonna go follow him right now.

[Wei-ge]: I think this circumference theory makes a lot of sense.

[Da Fei]: Genius!

Zhong Weishi noticed Gu Lizhou still watching his screen, with a smile lingering on his face, so he replied: Don’t rush to praise just yet—we still don’t know if we’ll actually find him.

Gu Lizhou withdrew his gaze and continued, “Besides his residence, we might also be able to predict his next filming location based on these spots. You should keep an eye on the areas around your neighborhood where people gather to dance.”

Zhong Weishi responded with an “oh” and turned to head home. It wasn’t until after he finished gathering his laundry, closed the door, and sat down at his small desk by the window to reply to messages that he suddenly remembered—he was still connected to Gu Lizhou’s phone hotspot.

The point was that the hotspot actually hasn’t been disconnected!

When he looked up, he saw a pair of eyes staring at him through the half-open window.

Just then, a breeze blew past outside the window, lifting the curtains, and causing the face outside to flicker in and out of view, startling him.

Zhong Weishi pushed the window open and poked his head out. “What are you doing just standing there? You scared the hell out of me.”

“You live here?” Gu Li Zhou asked.

“Yes, why?” Zhong Weishi couldn’t figure out why this man was so curious.

“Alone?”

Noticing that Gu Lizhou was eyeing his room, Zhong Weishi grew defensive. “I have a roommate.”

“Oh.” Gu Lizhou folded his arms and kept looking at him. “What kind of work do you do?”

“Acting ah.” Zhong Weishi was stunned—never in his life did he expect to have a man chatting him up through a window. He added in shock, “My friend works in loans and debt collection, so sometimes he looks for us to help out.”

Gu Lizhou nodded thoughtfully, “Is it the first time?”

His stiff attitude and suspicious tone sounded like a police officer conducting a routine interrogation after catching some prostitutes.

“What exactly do you do?” Zhong Weishi asked.

Gu Lizhou: “Your employer.”

Gu Lizhou had been a little hesitant, wondering if calling out to him so abruptly might be a bit too forward. After all, the other person might’ve already forgotten him. However, the word “again” from the other party made him want to continue.

He pointed at the wall full of small advertisements and asked, “Did you post these?”

“How could I? Do I look like that kind of person?” As soon as Zhong Weishi finished speaking, he spotted a refreshingly out-of-place missing person notice amid the ads for “genital enlargement surgery.”

With a heavy “ai” he lazily admitted, “Yeah, I posted them. What’s the problem?”

Gu Lizhou stifled a laugh and crossed his arms. “Is this how you guys look for people?”

“What’s the problem?” Zhong Weishi countered.

Gu Lizhou sneered, spreading his left hand. “Hand me your phone.”

“What for?” Zhong Weishi instinctively reached for his pocket, suspicious that the man might take advantage of the darkness of the night as a cover to steal his phone and run.

“To help you find someone,” Gu Li Zhou said indifferently.

Zhong Weishi looked at him suspiciously, “How?”

“By using your brain.” Gu Lizhou hooked up his fingers. “Give me the phone.”

Wow!

Look at that NB¹牛(niú) 逼 (bī) – equals to fvcking awesome in English. attitude—he could blow a rhino up to the sky with it.

Zhong Weishi had seen shameless people before, but never anyone this shameless.

Suppressing the urge to kick him down the stairs, Zhong Weishi fished out his phone and handed it over, ready to poke holes in his boasting.

Gu Lizhou flipped the phone so the screen faced him. “Unlock.”

“I’m telling you, calling won’t help. My friend tried countless times, and it just gives a busy signal.” Even as Zhong Weishi said this, he unlocked the phone anyway.

Who knows how many years the phone case had been used? The printed design was almost worn down to a solid black.

There were seven pages of apps in total, mostly games and video software. Each time he flipped through a page, the phone lagged a little.

Seeing him tapping away at the screen as if searching for something, Zhong Weishi couldn’t help but lean in. “Don’t go snooping ah. I’ve got a lot of little secrets in there.”

Gu Lizhou lifted his eyelids and gave him a knowing smirk as if something had come to mind.

Zhong Weishi didn’t need to guess to know what he was thinking. “Not the kind you’re imagining. I, am a decent person.”

Gu Lizhou didn’t believe it at all. “If you can’t reach him through WeChat, try other apps. There are so many ways to communicate these days, you’re bound to find something that works. Why is your phone disconnected from the internet?”

“Oh, the service was cut off,” Zhong Weishi said.

That night, he had planned to leech off the upstairs Wi-Fi to top up his phone bill. But when he opened WeChat, he found he only had 25 yuan—just short of the minimum required to recharge. So, he decided just to make do until next month.

Gu Lizhou asked, “Your service got cut off, and you’re not topping it up? What, are you planning to display this crap for an exhibition ah?”

Zhong Weishi wanted to save face, so he stuck out his neck and said, “What’s wrong with not topping up? Can’t I just use it to check the time?”

Without another word, Gu Lizhou turned on the hotspot on his phone and connected it to Zhong Weishi’s.

Zhong Weishi couldn’t help but grumble, “Why are you using my phone when you have yours?”

Gu Lizhou straightforwardly replied, “I don’t want to download Kuaishou.”²A short video social media platform where users can create and share their content in a convenient and simple way.

“Oh…” Zhong Weishi dragged out the sound, then frowned and asked, “Then, why do you think I’d have Kuaishou on my phone ah?”

Gu Li Zhou said without lifting his head, “Temperament.”

Zhong Weishi closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He never thought he’d one day hear something like that from someone else.

The truth was, he did have Kuaishou on his phone, but that was only because Qiangzi, trying to mimic some kind of eating broadcast trend last year, had begged him a thousand times to download the app and help boost his presence.

He would never forget that sunny afternoon when he finally found Qiangzi’s livestream. Qiangzi was sitting in the back of a tricycle, with a vast golden wheat field as the backdrop.

Inside the tricycle sat a huge rice vat, large enough to fit two Sima Guangs, filled with fiery red chili oil and instant noodles.

Qiangzi, grinning ear to ear, basked in the joy of the harvest as he spoke to the screen, “Today, I’m taking on the instant noodle challenge! There are 100 packets of noodles here, and since I like my food spicy, I bought the spicy beef flavor and added two jars of Lao Gan Ma. If you like this, follow me oh!”

That day, Qiangzi summoned almost every brothers in the internet cafe to come online and send him gifts, driving the viewership into the four digits.

It was like the whole place was in a state of flux.

It felt like he was peaking the moment he debuted.

Qiangzi used both hands to shovel noodles into his mouth, devouring them like a king, his sheer presence oozing from the screen.

That was also the first time in Zhong Weishi’s life that he’d ever tipped a streamer.

By the time Qiangzi had eaten half the vat, he couldn’t stop hiccupping, clutching his round belly, so stuffed he could no longer speak.

As expected, Qiangzi ended up wrecking his stomach.

That very night, he vomited and had diarrhea, eventually needing to go to the hospital for a three-day IV drip. When Qiangzi’s mother came to bring him some food, he took one look at the noodles and directly threw up.

From that point on, he developed a strong aversion to eating live streams.

“I downloaded it and forgot to delete it,” Zhong Weishi concluded.

Gu Lizhou believed his lengthy explanation, especially since the only streamer in his follow list was one called “Big Stomach King Huangfu.”

The last post on that account was from June of last year.

He resisted the urge to click and witness that heart-wrenching eating show.

What surprised Zhong Weishi, though, was that after Gu Lizhou entered a string of numbers into the search bar, an ID actually popped up.

The avatar was Er’Gou.

Gu Lizhou was at the hotel, packing his luggage and getting ready to take a shower. When he saw the message, he immediately called his mom.

“That kind of person is obviously a scammer, how could you still believe them ah?”

“He seemed so sincere when he spoke. He didn’t really seem like a scammer ah…”

Gu Lizhou sighed. He finally understood why elderly people can get deeply trapped in pyramid schemes. Even someone as educated as his mom could be so easily fooled.

“An old sow wearing a bra—one trick after another.¹This was the literal translation. It means someone who is continuously scheming or using tricks which often implies that their schemes are outlandish or unsuitable for them—much like the absurd image of a sow in a bra. If you give them money now, they’ll definitely come up with ways to ask for more. When you’re free, you should read more social news. There are countless stories of scams like this.”

“Then what about the money I already lost?” Li Yuqin said pitifully.

“Didn’t you already report it to the police? They’ll investigate and open a case. Investigations take time, so don’t be anxious.”

Gu Lizhou thought that if worse came to worst, he’d cover the lost money himself to spare his mom from any more stress.

“In short, don’t trust those people, okay?”

“Oh.” Li Yuqin responded with some disappointment.

In her view, those people didn’t seem like bad guys at all. In fact, they were even a bit cute.

If they really were scammers, it meant she had a terrible sense of judgment.

Seeing how sincerely they discussed plans in the group chat, she felt a bit bad. So, she sent a 500-yuan red envelope as a token of goodwill, thinking that if they were scammers, she’d just consider it her way of doing charity.

[Perfect Marriage]: I’ll send more once you make some progress.

Ever since Huangfu Qiang added Auntie into the group chat, he created a smaller four-person chat where he was currently giving an impassioned speech on video.

“Don’t look down on this 500 yuan. Even a fly’s worth of meat is still meat. Since she’s willing to give, it means she trusts us! Let’s have faith, determination, and perseverance to help her recover the 300,000 yuan she lost.”

If it weren’t for the fact that Zhong Weishi was staring at familiar faces on the screen, he might have thought he had accidentally wandered into some sort of pyramid scheme himself.

“What’s our slogan?!”

“The strongest in the Xicheng District—”

Before the sentence could be completed, the screen suddenly froze. Except for Zhong Weishi, who had no idea what the slogan even was and remained blank-faced, the other three were frozen in grotesque expressions, baring their teeth.

Bad signal?

Zhong Weishi raised his phone and moved closer to the window.

The network was completely disconnected.

What the hell?

Returning to the bed, Zhong Weishi realized that even his computer had lost its connection.

He tried calling Qiangzi’s phone.

“Your phone service has been disconnected.”

“…”

During the time when Zhong Weishi had lost contact with everyone, Huangfu Qiang took the photos provided by Li Yuqin to a print shop and had a stack of missing person posters made.

“Zhang Gou, male, 38 years old, from Zhangjiagou Village, speaks with a non-standard Mandarin accent, left home after a family argument and hasn’t returned since… Any information leading to his whereabouts will be greatly rewarded. Contact number: xxx.”

Gu Lizhou stood in front of a telephone pole by the apartment entrance, staring at the missing person poster, feeling conflicted.

This definitely seemed like the kind of thing only those retards would come up with.

Could they really be looking for someone?

[Cao Zhiheng]: Have you arrived?

[Useless Yet Awake]: Downstairs.

Gu Lizhou looked up at the old apartment building.

Over thirty years ago, he was born here and lived with his grandparents.

From kindergarten to elementary school and then middle school…

As far as he could remember, his parents were always busy, only coming home during the Chinese New Year or any holidays.

He always looked forward to the New Year.

He couldn’t remember the exact day, but one time his parents both came home and took him out to a fancy restaurant for dinner.

Before they had even eaten much, his father suddenly announced with a grim expression, that he was divorcing his mother.

That was the first time he understood what it felt like to be struck by a bolt from the blue.

No one enjoyed that meal.

The harmonious family that everyone envied was split in two.

At the top of the apartment building, the large pendulum still hung, with a second hand over a meter long, moving slowly like an elderly person, ticking forward bit by bit.

Coming back here now felt like he had traveled through time.

He still remembered that when he was a child, the clock on the roof would chime “dong, dong, dong” at noon every day.

Times had changed. The elderly members of his family had passed away, and the house was sold to someone else.

He hadn’t been back here for about ten years.

The stairwell was still narrow and dark, with barely any light even during the day. The peeling walls were plastered with crude small advertisements.

“Three-minute painless abortion,” “Genital enlargement surgery, make your partner scream nonstop,” “Guaranteed cure for gonorrhea and syphilis,” “Personal mortgage loans,” “Quick processing for college and vocational diplomas”…

Still that familiar smell..

Cao Zhiheng’s home used to be just a couple of doors down from his, on the third floor, apartment 303.

As Gu Lizhou walked upstairs, he noticed that all the lights in the stairwell were broken.

“Why hasn’t anyone fixed the lights?” He asked, turning off his flashlight as he stepped out of the stairwell.

Cao Zhiheng, leaning against the corridor wall with a handful of melon seeds, replied, “These old apartments are all rented out to migrant workers now. I guess there’s no money in it, so the property management ran off long ago.”

Seeing Gu Lizhou glance towards apartment 301, Cao Zhiheng casually asked, “Wanna check it out?”

“Is anyone living there?” Gu Lizhou asked.

“Probably not at the moment. The landlord rented it out to two young guys, but I haven’t seen one of them in a long time. Maybe he moved out; I’m not too sure.”

As they spoke, the two had already wandered to the doorway of 301.

Back in the day, to guard against thieves, the whole building had a uniform design: security gates and barred windows. Standing at the entrance felt like visiting someone in jail.

The layout of the apartments was equally simple: entering the front door led to the dining room and living room, with the master and secondary bedrooms on the right side. All the rooms together formed a big square.

The tenants of 301 hadn’t completely drawn their curtains, and through a small gap, Gu Lizhou could see the interior.

The living room was filled of old furniture.

When he was a child, his family was poor, and the sofas and chairs were custom-made by an old village carpenter in the countryside, painted with a coat of red varnish to make them look festive.

He’d heard those pieces were part of his grandmother’s dowry.

As their lives gradually improved and his parents moved into a new home, the old furniture was left behind in the old house.

Gu Lizhou was relieved to see that the tables and chairs were still intact, and the entire living room was reasonably tidy.

The corridor acted as a balcony, and the weather was nice today. As far as his eye could see were bed sheets, duvet covers, and clothes hanging to dry.

Among them, his eyes fell on a black tank top that looked awfully familiar.

The crew neck of the shirt had stretched into a V-neck, and next to it hung a pair of men’s underwear with a cartoon elephant printed on the crotch. A pair of plain black “Anima” brand sweatpants flapped in the wind.

The person’s sense of style was utterly perplexing.

An image of a certain retarded individual vaguely appeared in Gu Lizhou’s mind, but he figured he was probably overthinking it.

Black tank tops were everywhere.

“Do you know the person who lives here?” Gu Lizhou asked as he turned to walk back.

“Nope. I just happened to run into him twice on the subway and saw he was also headed to the film studio. He looked pretty young. Not sure if he’s even old enough to be working,” Cao Zhiheng said.

Gu Lizhou let out an “oh” and didn’t continue the conversation.

Cao Zhiheng was a prop master specializing in the film and television industry. He excelled in painting and carving, having inherited the trade from his father. Now, he was a somewhat well-known sculptor in the industry, with many directors competing to have him on their sets.

The ninety-plus square meter apartment was packed with various finished and half-finished products, leaving Gu Lizhou with no place to stand when he entered.

“Have your parents moved into their new place already?” Gu Lizhou asked.

“Yeah, they moved last year.” Cao Zhiheng shifted things from the sofa to the floor, clearing a spot for him to sit.

Gu Lizhou picked up a wooden sculpture nearby and fiddled with it casually. “Then, why didn’t you move out with them? This building’s practically a condemned D-Class structure. I just saw a crack in the stairwell wall wider than my finger.”

“It’s not that bad,” Cao Zhiheng chuckled. “I’ve gotten used to living here, and I’m too lazy to move. Plus, it’s closer to the film studio.”

“If it’s far, just drive.” Gu Li Zhou said casually.

“Traffic jam ah, and no available free parking. I can’t afford to pay for parking. An electric scooter’s way better,” Cao Zhiheng said, handing him a yogurt from the fridge.

As Gu Lizhou looked around the familiar little room, his eyes unintentionally fell on a woman’s jacket.

“You’ve been seeing someone, huh?”

“Yeah,” Cao Zhiheng smiled. “Yes ah, been dating for over half a year.”

“Very good,” Gu Lizhou nodded with a smile. “We should have a meal together sometime.”

“What about you?” Cao Zhiheng asked.

“Not interested,” Gu Lizhou replied without hesitation.

Cao Zhiheng narrowed his eyes.

His childhood friend had been single for over 30 years. In the past, he could use the excuse of being too busy with work, but now he wandered around like a ghost, showing no interest in women. It inevitably lets people’s imagination run wild.

“Are you not interested in dating, or are you just not interested in women ah?”

“Neither.” Gu Lizhou shrugged his shoulders.

After some casual chit-chat, a thought suddenly crossed Cao Zhiheng’s mind. “You know who I saw at the film studio the other day?”

“Who?” Gu Lizhou raised his eyes.

“Cui Sheng.” Cao Zhiheng’s expression changed.

Gu Lizhou’s movement to unscrew the bottle cap paused.

His fingers instinctively tightened, and the bottle deformed under the pressure.

With its fake smile concealing malice, Cui Sheng’s face surfaced in his mind again.

“Thank you all for choosing to support and believe in me. I will prove through my actions that you haven’t misplaced your trust. Good and evil will eventually be repaid. God is watching…”

Good and evil will eventually be repaid

How laughably ironic.

Gu Lizhou’s nails almost dug into his flesh as it felt like all the air had been sucked out of the room, his frustration threatening to explode.

Those words echoed in his mind, and a burning sensation rose in his chest.

The very thought of it made him feel sick.

“That s/ut is currently making a movie, “Storm”, working with Director Gu Chuan…”

“Enough.” Gu Lizhou coldly interrupted, his voice sharp. “I don’t want to know these things.”

Cao Zhiheng froze for a moment, feeling a bit awkward. “Sorry about that.”

Gu Lizhou lowered his head in silence for a moment. “I’m not blaming you. I just don’t want to hear that person’s name.”

“I get it.” Cao Zhiheng patted his shoulder and changed the subject. “How’ve you been lately? Looking for a new job?”

“No,” Gu Lizhou shook his head. “I don’t even know what else I can do. What’s the point of living anyway?”

Uh-oh.

He’s hit the bull’s-eye again.

Cao Zhiheng quickly tried to comfort him. “Come on, you’ve made plenty of money, bought a car, a house, and you don’t need to worry about food and clothing. Don’t overthink it.”

Gu Lizhou sighed quietly, stretching out lazily on the sofa. “But life feels pointless ah. Every day is just eating and waiting for death. What’s the difference between me and a useless person?”

“Man, you don’t know how lucky you are. Plenty of people would envy your life,” Cao Zhiheng hooked an arm around his neck. “If things really feel that bad, why don’t you come with me? Help me with some carving work and drop it off at the sets. There are plenty of beautiful actresses on the crews.”

Gu Lizhou glanced at him but didn’t say anything.

“How about it ah?” Cao Zhiheng turned to look at him. “I’m telling you, all your problems come from having too much time on your hands. Get busy with me for a few days, and I guarantee you’ll sleep like a baby, forget all your worries.”

“Really?” Gu Lizhou chuckled.

“Absolutely ah!” Cao Zhiheng slapped him on the shoulder. “It’s settled, then ah. You stay here with me for a while, and I’ll pay you at the end of the month.”

“How much will I get?” Gu Lizhou asked.

“Depends on your performance.” Cao Zhiheng said.

When Gu Lizhou left Cao Zhiheng’s place, the sky had already darkened significantly.

He had originally planned to stay a few days before heading back to City B, but for some reason, he impulsively agreed to stay longer with Cao Zhiheng.

However, thinking about it, it didn’t really matter. Anyway, he was a salted fish,²Similar to a couch potato or a slacker. it was the same anywhere. Maybe having some company would improve his mood.

Gu Lizhou turned on his flashlight, illuminating the stairs in the dim corridor.

After taking just a couple of steps, he heard hurried footsteps coming from the darker part of the hallway below.

He stopped somewhat cautiously.

Crashing into view was a tall man, devouring a box of takoyaki with his head down, clearly wolfing down his food.

From his vantage point, Gu Lizhou looked down at the man’s head and found the hairstyle somewhat familiar, but he couldn’t quite make out his face from this angle.

His line of sight moved along with the man.

Just as they were about to pass each other, a sudden realization flashed in Gu Lizhou’s mind, as if a light had gone off.

“Hey—” He couldn’t recall the name of the guy in the black tank top.

Zhong Weishi was lost in his own thoughts, and the sudden call startled him so much that his soul seemed to tremble.

The takoyaki he had just picked up slipped from his grasp, rolling down the steps. Zhong Weishi was furious.

“Shit, you scared me…” He turned his head, the curse dying in his throat as soon as he recognized the person. “Why is it you again?”

Gu Lizhou stood on the balcony, making a call to an old friend from Yucheng. As he glanced around, he noticed the troublemakers from earlier, arms slung around each other, heading outside.

The residential area had a large green space with many side paths. He saw the guy in the tank top raise his hand and point left, only for the other three to forcibly drag him to the right.

Once the call connected, Gu Lizhou switched to speaker mode and placed his phone on the flower rack on the balcony.

“I arrived in Yucheng this morning.”

Cao Zhiheng’s voice came through, “That was fast ah. Where are you now? Want to come hang out?”

“As it should be ah. I’ve been waiting for your invitation,” Gu Lizhou replied with a chuckle.

Cao Zhiheng was Gu Lizhou’s childhood friend. The two had known each other since kindergarten, back when the Gu Family lived in a small house less than 100 square meters in the countryside of Xicheng District.

After his parents divorced, Gu Lizhou moved to City B with his father and rarely returned.

As they grew older, his visits became even less frequent. Thankfully, their childhood friendship endured; even after years apart, they could chat without any awkwardness or distance.

While Gu Lizhou was arranging a meet-up time with Cao Zhiheng, he spotted the four retards in the distance, stacking themselves like a human pyramid under a large tree.

“Da Fei, is your waist still holding up?” A’Wei glanced down at Da Fei’s hair whorl.

“Still… still okay.” Da Fei’s head was pressed against the tree trunk, his molars clenched. With every word, he felt more of his strength drain away. “Just don’t… don’t, don’t talk to me.”

A’Wei, perched on Da Fei’s shoulders, clung to the thick tree trunk. “Push me up a bit more! I’m almost there! I can hear the birds chirping!”

Zhong Weishi stood nearby, recording the scene with malicious glee. He could laugh about this for a whole year.

Meanwhile, Qiangzi had somehow found a tree branch and handed it to A’Wei. “Here, Wei-ge, stab it with this!”

Da Fei was so anxious he was about to start stomping his feet. “No, no, what if the bird eggs fall and break?”

Qiangzi gritted his teeth and prepared to step on A’Wei’s shoulders to take it to the next level. “I’ll climb up and grab them. Da Fei, hang in there a bit longer!”

“Hey hey hey, I can’t I can’t…” Da Fei shouted, his voice cracking as his knees slowly began to buckle.

Qiangzi patted Da Fei’s back, encouraging him, “The word ‘can’t’ shouldn’t exist in a man’s dictionary! You can do it!”

Zhong Weishi couldn’t help but laugh. “Jiayou,¹To cheer someone up. Da Fei, hang in there!”

Meanwhile, the security guard on patrol who had been feeding stray cats with his food bowl looked up and saw the bizarre scene. He ran over, shouting, “Hey, hey, hey—Those guys over there! What’s going on! What’s going on!”

Gu Lizhou watched as the human pyramid they had built collapsed with a thud. The three retards fell flat on their backs, rolling and scrambling on the ground.

The guy in the tank top leapt over the flowerbed like Hurdler Liu Xiang,²A former Chinese 110 meter hurdler. He is an Olympic Gold medalist. his tousled hair flying in the wind as he led the charge.

The skinny guy who fell at the end, lost a slipper while running. He hesitated about going back for it, but before he could decide, his retarded teammates dragged him away from the scene.

He glanced back every three steps forward.

The security guard uncle picked up the lost flip-flop, cursing under his breath, “Don’t let me see you guys again!”

Gu Lizhou laughed so hard that his voice reached Cao Zhiheng on the other end of the phone.

“What are you laughing at?”

“Nothing, just some psychopaths who escaped from the hospital.” Gu Lizhou licked his lips and slowly walked back into the living room. “Then, I’ll come find you when you’re free.”

Li Yuqin placed the dishes on the table and called out from the living room, “Lizhou, let’s eat.”

The meal consisted of three dishes and a soup, all lightly flavored—just the type of food Gu Lizhou used to love.

“Try the chicken soup, see how it tastes,” Li Yuqin said as she served him a bowl of rice.

Gu Lizhou took a spoonful, his smile gentle. “It’s quite good.”

Mother and son hadn’t seen each other for nearly two years, so a bit of small talk was inevitable. Most of it was Gu Lizhou listening as his mother talked about recent events.

Li Yuqin had previously run a beauty salon and a café, but both were transferred because they weren’t making enough money. Now, she spends her days idle at home.

“Running a business isn’t as easy as you think,” Gu Lizhou put down his chopsticks. “You’re at retirement age anyway, so don’t waste your energy on pointless things.”

“But it’s so boring being alone,” Li Yuqin sighed softly.

Gu Lizhou looked at her, wanting to say something but hesitating.

Indeed.

It had become quite meaningless.

To be cruelly stripped of what one loves and aspires to is like losing direction in life.

It might seem like nothing was missing, but it felt as though the soul had been hollowed out, leaving no motivation for anything.

Days like this, he had fallen into that same emptiness, and he could deeply relate.

“What about you, are you still writing now?” Li Yuqin asked.

Gu Lizhou shook his head. “No, there’s no point.”

Li Yuqin didn’t know how to comfort him, so she placed a shrimp in his bowl. “Eat more. Let the past stay in the past. Life still goes on.”

“Mn.” As Gu Lizhou peeled the shrimp, something suddenly came to mind. “Is there a large pharmacy nearby? I forgot my medication.”

“You can even forget ah.” Li Yuqin looked at her son with concern, wondering whether it was just a coincidence or if the side effects of those Western medications were getting worse. “Have you been to the hospital recently?”

“Mn.” Gu Lizhou nodded. “Don’t worry, I’m fine. Really.”

“That’s good,” Li Yuqin smiled faintly. “Honestly, I don’t have any big wishes anymore. I just hope you can be a little happier.”

Gu Lizhou smiled too. “I know.”

“Then, how long are you staying this time? Do you want to move in with me for a few days? I can tidy up the room next door, and we can go to the supermarket this afternoon to buy a new bedding set,” Li Yuqin asked, her eyes full of anticipation.

“No need to go through all that trouble,” Gu Lizhou replied, lowering his head to politely decline. “I’m just out for a stroll, and my things are at the hotel. In a couple of days, I’ll go stay with my friend for a bit.”

Li Yuqin let out an “oh” and didn’t insist.

When he was young, Li Yuqin was too busy with work to take care of her son, so they weren’t close. After the divorce, they barely saw each other, and their relationship grew even more distant.

Gu Lizhou never initiated heart-to-heart conversations with her. Even when he was forced, he only offered a few words, like squeezing toothpaste.

She felt helpless but had grown used to it.

As Li Yuqin got up to clear the dishes, the phone on the dining table buzzed twice.

Her phone didn’t have a password, and the WeChat interface automatically lit up.

The message came from a group called “Xicheng District’s Express Debt Collection Team.”

Gu Lizhou curiously went over and scanned it.

There were only five people in the group, including his mom. Judging by the profile pictures, it was the same bunch of psychopaths from earlier.

[Huangfu]: Auntie! I forgot to ask earlier, do you have any recent photos of Er’Gou? I want to print them out and ask around the neighborhood.

[Wei-ge]: Actually, it doesn’t matter if they’re recent. As long as you have some, that’s good enough.

[Da Fei]: Exactly!

The group chat was added when they were chatting in the living room earlier. Gu Lizhou had initially thought it was just a joke, but it turned out these guys were serious.

The police couldn’t even find this person, and they expected to?

Gu Lizhou snorted and moved his eyes away.

“Why hasn’t she replied?” Qiangzi stared at his phone for a long time. “It’s been ten minutes! Even if I fvcking searched with my feet, I’d have found something by now. Maybe there are no photos?”

Da Fei, who had lost one of his “glass slippers,” propped his leg on Qiangzi’s lap, trying to get his attention. “Maybe she hasn’t seen it yet. No need to rush.”

Qiangzi pulled out a pack of cigarettes and handed one to each of them, but when he went to light it, he realized he didn’t have a lighter.

Zhong Weishi touched his pocket. “Damn, it seems like I dropped mine in the neighborhood too.”

A group of people returned all the cigarettes in their hands.

Sorrowful.

“Qiang-ge,” Da Fei wiggled his toes. “Can I get reimbursed for my lost slipper?”

Qiangzi clumsily changed the subject. “Speaking of which, shouldn’t we come up with a concrete plan to capture Er’Gou?”

A bunch of people were all doing this kind of thing for the first time, and after pondering for half a day, they were still completely clueless.

“I’ll leave the matter of finding someone to you,” Zhong Weishi patted his shoulder. ““I still have to shoot a movie, so I don’t have time to fool around lately. Once you find him, I can take care of cornering him.”

“Do you have a movie to shoot?” Qiangzi looked up skeptically.

Zhong Weishi felt as if an arrow had pierced his heart and gritted his teeth. “I’m the second male lead this time.”

Da Fei’s eyes widened with excitement, as if witnessing his wife and newborn being wheeled out of the delivery room. “For real, ge! Second male lead ah! You’re gonna make it big! Is it too late for me to hug your thigh?”

Qiangzi: “Which episode do you die in?!”

Zhong Weishi’s face hardened. “This time it’s a proper second male lead role—I won’t be dying.”

Technically, it was true he was the second male lead, but in reality, he was just the body double for the second male lead.

The second male lead was a swimmer, and the director, impressed by Zhong Weishi’s physique and graceful diving form, decided to keep him on.

“You went to be a nude double for someone la?” On the bus, Da Fei was utterly shocked, unable to believe that his Shi-ge had fallen to the point of selling his body.

“Shh!” Zhong Weishi wished he could sew his mouth shut. “It’s just the upper body, nothing below.”

“Actually, being a nude body double isn’t shameful ah,” A’Wei chimed in. “It just proves that our Shi-ge has a smoking hot body.”

Zhong Weishi rolled his eyes. “Don’t describe it blindly if you don’t know how to. Is that how you describe a guy?”

Da Fei pondered seriously for a moment. “Graceful curves.”

“Roll.”

They returned home around 3 p.m. Zhong Weishi threw his tank top onto the bed and glanced down at the Qiongqi tattoo on his body, the tail of which had rubbed off partially.

Washing it off seemed like a waste. After all, it had cost him 100 yuan and was his first ever tattoo in his life.

But if he didn’t wash it, he would suffer OCD. The sight of the ruined tattoo was getting under his skin.

He hadn’t noticed it earlier at his friend’s place, but now he saw that Gu Lizhou had left two blueish finger marks on his forearm from when he’d grabbed him.

The hand had a really strong grip.

In the end, he grabbed a black marker and colored in the missing part of Qiongqi’s tail, deciding to keep it for his upcoming audition as a thug who attacks the lead character with a knife.

Maybe he’d even get some screen time on TV.

While waiting for his instant noodles to cook, he logged into a housing rental website on his ancient, eight-hand laptop to see if there were any listings for shared apartments.

A new message appeared in the upper right corner, and he clicked on it with a moment of excitement, but it turned out to be an advertisement.

He roughly calculated his expenses. Rent plus utilities, would run over 2,000 yuan per month. Adding in daily costs, he would need to earn at least 100 yuan a day just to scr4p3 by, let alone save up for any acting classes.

At this rate, he figured he might need to find a new place and a new roommate soon. The thought left him irritated.

He hated moving. It was time-consuming, exhausting, and expensive.

This apartment building was old, but it was conveniently located close to the film production base. Because of its age and less-than-attractive appearance, the rent was relatively cheap.

He casually scrolled through a few listings online. Rooms along the subway line were going for around 2,000 yuan a month for a single unit—completely out of his budget.

The phone on his desk buzzed constantly, still notifications from the debt collection group chat.

It looked like Qiangzi was really planning to challenge the impossible.

[Huangfu]: Auntie, it’s like this. For us to take the job, we need an upfront payment. If we don’t succeed, it’ll be refunded to you. If we succeed, you’ll just need to pay the remaining balance.

[Perfect Marriage]: Yes, how much do you need?

[Huangfu]: Half should do it—5,000 yuan.

[Perfect Marriage]: I don’t have that much money in my WeChat, I’ll let my son transfer it to you.

Moments later, the system pinged with another message: “Worthless Yet Awake” had joined the chat.

The WeChat name was blunt and crude, yet somehow seemed to carry some kind of deep meaning that wasn’t clear.

It feels very cultured.

Zhong Weishi curiously clicked on Gu Lizhou’s avatar to take a closer look.

It was a cactus in a pot.

…The peculiar taste of an old man.

Suddenly, he found that the WeChat name wasn’t so special after all.

[Perfect Marriage]: Son, do you have money in your WeChat account? Help me pay the project’s startup fee.

Immediately afterward, a new message popped up from the system.

“Worthless Yet Awake” has left the group chat.