Gu Xuanlang readily accepted the special attention.
Meanwhile, the Song-named odd-job worker with no special attention had no choice but to casually pick a back-row seat and sit down.
Before he had even adjusted properly to the creaky, dilapidated folding chair beneath his backside, the man in the neighboring seat eagerly leaned forward to strike up a conversation: “It looks like I’ve seen you in the cafeteria?”
Song Rong responded: “Ah, I work in the cafeteria.”
The man grinned and pointed at his companion: “We’re from the Survival Assistance Department. When we go to the cafeteria for meals in the future, can you give us a bit more food?”
Song Rong took it seriously and tried hard to commit their appearances to memory: “No problem.”
That earnest, deadpan expression amused the two of them. The one who had initiated the conversation took the opportunity to rest his hand on the back of Song Rong’s chair, softly praising: “How obedient.”
The other one laughed even louder.
Before the meeting had even started, the commotion here caused the people in the front rows to turn around and look repeatedly, among them Gu Xuanlang.
He didn’t have much expression on his face, but his gaze was chilly. After locking onto the extra hand resting on the back of Song Rong’s chair, he unceremoniously hooked his finger, signaling the other party to sit by his side.
This summoning method made Song Rong feel uncomfortable, so he pretended not to see it.
But the man in the neighboring seat saw it: “Do you know Consultant Gu?”
Song Rong didn’t react for a moment: “Gu-Gu-Wen is what?”
“Mr. Gu.” The man lifted his chin toward Gu Xuanlang’s direction: “The newly hired special consultant for the Supervision Department.”
Consultant?
It sounded like a very important position. Anyway, it sounded much more impressive than an odd-job worker.
Song Rong was depressed for a moment before he remembered to reply: “Oh, not very close.”
Before his voice had even faded, the Gu-Gu-Wen whom he wasn’t very close with strode with an elegant posture past rows of folding chairs and squeezed his way right in front of him: “Come sit in the front row with me.”
Song Rong was uncomprehending and unwilling.
But Gu Xuanlang was simply too eye-catching.
As soon as he moved, he attracted countless pairs of eyes to follow him. Fearing being watched by onlookers, the odd-job worker instantly set aside his personal feelings and obediently got up to change seats.
Facts proved that putting poor students in the front row doesn’t help either.
To update the Otherworldly Species Manual more efficiently, the Archives Department formed a specialized team under Kuaiqing’s matchmaking. The team leader rambled on for over an hour, yet Song Rong listened until he was drowsy. Things like cross-species gene comparison detailed rules and non-standard form spiritual energy fluctuation threshold, every single character separated out was recognizable, but put together they were no different from a heavenly book.
What was even more depressing was that he had zero meeting experience, brought no paper or pen, and couldn’t even pretend to take notes. He could only sit there blankly, letting his eyelids grow heavier and heavier.
Until a hand gently patted his shoulder.
The touch was very familiar.
Song Rong let out a hmph and didn’t move.
Gu Xuanlang sighed: “The meeting is over.”
Rustling footsteps sounded throughout the conference room. Having been accidentally bumped in the chair by a passing colleague, Song Rong finally gave a start and propped up his head: “Is it over?”
He rubbed his eyes and fished out his senior citizen phone to check the time.
The time was still early. If he hurried back to the cafeteria now, he might still make it for the evening shift. Even if the head chef said he’d still get full attendance credit, he couldn’t actually slack off.
Having secretly made up his mind, Song Rong stole a glance at Gu Xuanlang. Before he could even open his mouth to strike up a conversation, the special consultant was called over by the team leader.
They began chatting about topics that were very difficult to understand.
Song Rong wanted to wait a bit longer, but felt he had no standing to wait. Just as he was about to get up and leave, Kuaiqing, who had popped up out of nowhere, stopped him.
Kuaiqing handed him a kraft paper envelope: “Take this.”
Song Rong didn’t dare to take it: “What is this?”
Without giving him room to refuse, Kuaiqing shoved the envelope right into his embrace: “Allowance.”
Song Rong had heard the saying rewards unearned are met with anxiety, so he hurriedly shook his head: “I haven’t even started doing work for the Archives Department yet!”
Seeing his junior panic so much over a small sum of money, Kuaiqing relaxed into a smile: “Take some time to get a smart phone and register all those commonly used apps. These are all indispensable if you want to live together with humans. You need to slowly learn and slowly get used to it. If you have any questions in the future, just give feedback directly in the WeChat group. Rest assured, all the other allowances will be paid to you in full without missing a cent.”
Song Rong’s brain turned with creaky noises: Oh, buying a new phone is also work-related necessity.
With a legitimate reason, the packet of money in his embrace didn’t seem quite so scorching anymore, but he still hesitated: “However, I don’t know where to buy one.”
His words stopped halfway.
Such trivial matters could be consulted on the forum entirely, instead of troubling the busy Section Chief Kuaiqing over his personal affairs.
Fortunately, Kuaiqing didn’t intend to trouble himself anyway. Upon learning of Song Rong’s predicament, he looked straight at Gu Xuanlang, conveying another task to this newly hired consultant with his gaze.
Ever since just now, Gu Xuanlang had been keeping a close eye on the conversation between the two of them.
Now, he naturally agreed: “Then tonight.”
Song Rong stuttered: “Tonight, what?”
Gu Xuanlang tucked a notebook filled with flowing handwriting into his trench coat pocket, looking completely nonchalant: “I happen to need to buy some electronics later, so I can by the way accompany you to buy a phone.”
Song Rong believed that Gu Xuanlang was truly just going by the way.
Walking to the bus stop without a word between them, the other party turned his head and asked him how many bus routes he needed to take to get to the downtown area.
Song Rong didn’t know either.
The location of the Jianhua Second-hand Consignment Market was quite remote, and the bus routes passing by were also sparse. He had hitched a ride in Director Zhou’s car when he came, and subsequently never had the chance to go downtown again. In fact, there were electronic stores nearby too, but during a bathroom break he had browsed around Under the Eaves, where a colleague mentioned that the phones sold there were all refurbished and lacked quality assurance. Song Rong didn’t want to get ripped off, and ultimately decided to head downtown to find a legitimate shopping mall.
Just as he fished out his phone intending to post on the forum for help, a filthy van pulled up beside them.
A dark-skinned human driver leaned out of the window and greeted them: “Two yuan per person, heading out or not?”
Song Rong remembered. Xiang Xun had mentioned that there were black market cabs operating around here running shuttle trips to the subway station.
Taking the subway downtown was the most convenient option.
He had never taken a black cab nor ridden the subway, so inner anxiety was inevitable, but in order to display his current resourcefulness in human society in front of Gu Xuanlang, he still mustered up his courage and shouted: “Let’s go!”
Then, he felt around in his pocket for the coins he had prepared in advance, solemnly counted out four of them, and handed them to the driver.
Even if he had only joined the Special Management Bureau half a month earlier than Gu Xuanlang, he was still a senior, and a senior had the obligation to take care of a junior.
This black cab ride, he was treating.
The dark-skinned driver looked at Song Rong, then glanced at the collection QR code hanging under the rearview mirror, and let out a dissatisfied, light scoff. Perhaps seeing that the face was somewhat naively innocent, he ultimately didn’t say anything else, accepted the coins, and irritably pointed toward the back row of the carriage.
Song Rong pulled open the van door with all his might. Seeing three unfamiliar faces crammed into the cramped back row, his movements involuntarily stiffened.
Hesitating, Gu Xuanlang, who had been following right behind him, raised a hand and pushed him into the van, then climbed in as well, logically taking a seat right beside him.
Song Rong clutched his umbrella handle and moved sideways an inch with feigned distaste.
The battered car door wouldn’t close tightly. As soon as the van started moving, drafts of wind zipped right through.
The suburban roads weren’t very smooth either, and the car bumped around as if shaking glutinous rice balls. Even with his best efforts to steady himself, Song Rong’s arm collided with Gu Xuanlang’s over and over again.
He could only silently comfort himself to endure a little longer.
Just a little longer.
Endure until they transferred to the subway.
It was not going to get better at all!
It was right during the evening rush hour, and the subway was packed body-to-body. Song Rong finally managed to find a foothold, still tightly pressed against that guy. At least there was a seat in the van, but on the subway.
How strange, why do humans love going to work so much?!
Before he could figure out an answer, the surge of people squeezing onto the subway at the next station directly bumped Song Rong right into Gu Xuanlang’s embrace.
Standing side by side, the height difference between the two was exceptionally obvious. Gu Xuanlang lowered his gaze to look at him, and out of sheer instinct raised a hand to prop himself against the vertical pillar pole, loosely encircling the person within his arms.
Song Rong rubbed the tip of his nose that had been bumped into soreness, very reluctantly shifted away a tiny bit to maintain distance from the other person, and grumbled in a small voice: “It’s shaking way too much.”
Two thousand years have passed, and your chest muscles are still so, um, solid.
In human terms, it should be called.
Long shelf life?
The man with the long-shelf-life chest muscles calmly replied: “Much more stable than a horse carriage.”
His thoughts were inexplicably pulled back to a long time ago. Song Rong blankly nodded in agreement: “Ah, that’s true.”
Although both he and Gu Xuanlang were successfully transformed monsters, they were not at all like the legendary, heaven-defying abilities described in storybooks and plays, at least he didn’t have any, and getting around still relied on two legs.
He remembered once when the two of them nearly exposed their monster identities in front of mortals and were forced to move to another town. Worried that he couldn’t walk long distances, Gu Xuanlang spent money to hire a carriage, packed up all their belongings, and journeyed through wind and dust. When thirsty they found a post station to drink a bowl of hot tea, and when tired they rested inside the carriage, even saving the expenses of finding an inn to stay at.
Those few days were crisp and clear with autumn air, and the slightly chilly night wind swept through the forest, making the leaves rustle, enough to cover up the soft, delicate moans they emitted inside the carriage.
Thinking of those absurd things the two of them used to do, Song Rong couldn’t help feeling his cheeks burn hot. He hurriedly raised a hand to cover the top of his head, terrified that a little mushroom might inappropriately pop out.
Fortunately, the other party involved hadn’t noticed his loss of composure.
Standing there with an upright and proud posture, Gu Xuanlang stared at the advertising light panels flashing outside the subway window and fell into memories: “Entering the capital city back then took a little less than half a month of walking.”
A shared topic stirred up Song Rong’s desire to express himself: “And you still had to watch out for mountain bandits, wild beasts, rising floodwaters.”
And now, going from the suburbs to the city center was merely a matter of a dozen or so subway stations. They didn’t even have to walk, didn’t need to save travel funds, and didn’t need to pray to gods and Buddhas for each other’s safety.
Song Rong sighed from the bottom of his heart: “Humans are truly amazing, and only two thousand years have passed.”
Gu Xuanlang, however, repeated with complex emotions: “Two thousand years have already passed.”
Their conversation fell into the ears of a passerby. A middle-aged man carrying a double-strap backpack glanced at them like they were fools, lowered his head, and continued scrolling through short videos.
Song Rong scratched his head, taking advantage of looking away to glance at Gu Xuanlang once more.
Yeah, two thousand years had already passed.
And they were still in a Cold War.