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.