In the end, Ming Zhifei did not ask about his business as Yang Jianzhen had hoped. Just as Yang Jianzhen had correctly guessed, Ming Zhifei had always been completely uninterested in the affairs of others. Throughout his life, he had viewed small talk as meaningless and a waste of time. He believed that if everyone just did their job and achieved their goals, nothing in the world would go wrong; things would simply move toward their planned destination—until the accident happened.
During these six months of being unable to work, he had locked himself away, often not knowing what he was doing. He had neither goals nor motivation. Sometimes he would stare at the ceiling for an entire day until he nearly fainted from hunger. At first, he tried to find a way to fix the situation, but he found he could do nothing. The hospital pressured him to stay quiet, and he wasn’t allowed to do anything except listen to his lawyer and wait for the trial. When his ex-wife asked for a divorce, he just followed the steps: sell the house, pay off the loan early, get divorced. It seemed like he was doing things, but he didn’t know why he was doing them.
He couldn’t control his fate. In this chaos, his past life goals were destroyed—and he realized he had no idea what he was living for outside of those goals. That realization alone drained all his energy. Consequently, he couldn’t face the “concern” of his in-laws or his ex-wife. He didn’t want to deal with their emotions by explaining his situation over and over, nor did he want to expose his weakness to anyone.
He hadn’t told his parents in another province about his situation. They usually only called when they needed his help, and he almost never contacted them first. He could imagine their reaction; concern would be secondary to them demanding he find a way to get back onto the track of a “respectable member of society” as soon as possible.
Right now, he didn’t feel like a member of society; he felt like someone who had derailed. He remembered the period right after he stopped going to work. The hospital department’s group chat would post daily updates—that had once been his whole world. After his suspension, they forgot to remove him from the group. Though he archived the chat, whenever he accidentally clicked on it, he saw how the “unemployed” version of himself was already a misfit. Soon after, he reached his limit, uninstalled all social media, and changed his number.
Even so, he realized that compared to himself, Yang Jianzhen was even further off the tracks. To be honest, Ming Zhifei was a little curious to hear what happened to him, but after hearing that remark, he didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of asking.
“Fei-ge, do you only have one bowl?”
“I never planned on inviting people over to eat.”
“You’re so interesting. Then go to my place and grab a bowl for me, will you~~? Oh, right, right, can you also bring my toothbrush, towel, bath towel, and pajamas?”
“What do you need those for?” Ming Zhifei frowned instinctively.
“Didn’t you agree to let me hide at your place for a bit?” Yang Jianzhen put on a pitiful face. “I’m too scared to even open the door at my place, and there’s almost no food left. If I stay there, I’ll either starve or get beaten to death.”
“When did I agree?” Ming Zhifei thought he was being completely unreasonable.
“Just now. You didn’t say no.” Yang Jianzhen squeezed out a smile. “Plus, you refused my money and were kind enough to want to help me. Fei-ge, you’re a really good person, always saving me. I’m so grateful~~”
Even the most illogical person couldn’t be this twisted with their words, right? Ming Zhifei found that when he replayed their conversation, he actually didn’t know how to argue back. He wanted to say, “I never said you could stay, I only said you were in debt,” but he could guess that saying it would only bring more intense pleading. And faced with that tragic, battered face, how could he say anything else?
After all, refusing requests was what he was worst at. And this person’s situation really did look miserable. Ming Zhifei, who usually didn’t remember faces or care about looks, had categorized Yang Jianzhen as “exceptionally handsome” the moment he first saw him on the floor with his eyes closed. Seeing him now with a face that was nearly disfigured was truly shocking.
“Decide everything you want to take and write it in my phone’s memo app. I’ll go over and pack it for you,” Ming Zhifei finally said. He opened the app and handed the phone to Yang Jianzhen.
“That’s great. You still have a phone. They took mine when they drove off with my car. I’m so bored right now,” Yang Jianzhen said as he typed.
“Exactly how much money do you owe?” Ming Zhifei finally couldn’t help asking.
“Not that much, really. Only four or five million. Ha, for just that much money they want to kill me. Don’t they know that ‘as long as the green mountains remain, one need not worry about firewood’? If they leave me alone, I can earn it back for them in no time. It’s not a huge sum, don’t you think?”
“With a decent job, most people can’t earn four or five million in a lifetime,” Ming Zhifei said matter-of-factly. Yang Jianzhen’s tone was so arrogant it made him suspect the man was bragging.
Ming Zhifei’s former department, Gynecological Oncology, had done well. He already held an associate senior title and worked at a university-affiliated hospital. His annual salary after tax was only around 400,000 to 500,000 yuan. Even without eating or drinking, it would take him over a decade of work to pay back five million in principal, let alone the interest.
“What kind of ‘decent job’ actually makes money? If you want to get rich, you have to be at least a little ‘indecent,’ don’t you?” Yang Jianzhen laughed again. “It was only when I tried to go straight that I lost all my capital and ended up deep in debt. If I’d known, I would’ve stuck to ‘indecent’ ways of making money. Don’t you agree?”
“You lost money in business?”
“You bet. Screwed over by some people. Dammit, those bastards teamed up to set me up.” Yang Jianzhen cursed, then turned to smile at Ming Zhifei. “Fei-ge, you’re an educated man, a civilized man. Don’t be upset hearing me talk. I’m just a crude guy, didn’t go to school much. Can’t change it.”
“How can you tell I’m an ‘educated man’?” Ming Zhifei asked, somewhat surprised. He didn’t think he had ever revealed any information about himself.
“Dressed like this, wearing those glasses—you definitely had a respectable job before. Those leather shoes you threw out would cost three or four thousand yuan new. And you’re so… you’re so innocent yet you managed to earn money; if that’s not from being over-educated, how else would you earn it?” Yang Jianzhen found himself funnier the more he spoke, breaking into another laugh. “You really are so proper. Since I started working, I haven’t seen many proper people like you—ah, my grandfather was a proper man, though.”
Yang Jianzhen’s talk rambled all over the place, yet he managed to type while speaking. When he finished, he handed the phone back. Ming Zhifei looked at the few lines written there. The last line read “Tenga,” which he didn’t understand. He asked, “What is this? A cup you use on a plane?”
Yang Jianzhen looked at Ming Zhifei with a half-smile, asking an apparently unrelated question: “Fei-ge, when your ‘number two’ wants to do someone but you can’t find the right person to do it with, what do you do?”
Ming Zhifei’s brain stalled completely. He replayed the sentence in his head three times before his face flushed scorching hot. Just as he was at a loss for how to react, Yang Jianzhen crossed his arms behind his head, leaned back, and sighed with a shake of his head.
“Do you know how much trouble a real person is? You ‘do’ them for a while, it feels good, sure—but then they come back to you acting like it’s life or death, demanding you take responsibility for their feelings. I mean, didn’t they enjoy it too? Once you’re done, you’re done. What’s there to be responsible for? And then they grab a weapon and crack your head open. Is a person as obedient as a Tenga? Is a person as easy to use? At least a Tenga won’t break your head open.”
Seeing Ming Zhifei’s face turn beet-red, Yang Jianzhen added: “Oh, right, Fei-ge, don’t forget to bring the charging cable! It’s the one with the round pink head. It’s on my nightstand, right next to the Tenga.”
Having heard more outrageous things in these few minutes than in his entire thirty-six years of life, Ming Zhifei found himself unable to say, “Can you go back to your own home? I don’t welcome you.” His parents had raised him with the philosophy that “a gentleman’s word is his bond.” Since he had agreed to help Yang Jianzhen, he couldn’t bring himself to back out now. Besides, perhaps because he had already fallen this far, adding a new variable to his life wasn’t such a big deal. How much worse could it get?
If things really were going to get worse—Ming Zhifei noticed a strange psychological shift in himself—then he might as well see just how much worse they could get.
Realizing he was developing a self-destructive streak, Ming Zhifei couldn’t help but smile bitterly in his heart.
This was his second time entering Yang Jianzhen’s home. The stacks of boxes filled with clothes were gone; the coffee table and TV were set up, and several empty cardboard boxes were stacked neatly in a corner of the living room. The landlord hadn’t provided much furniture—no TV stand, no fridge, not even a sofa. The TV sat directly on the floor, which looked somewhat ridiculous next to the high-end solid wood coffee table that clearly didn’t belong in this apartment.
Ming Zhifei checked his phone memo: bowl, water cup, towel, toothbrush, bath towel were at the top of the list. Chopsticks weren’t needed; Ming Zhifei had bought a pack of five just a few days ago.
He picked a smaller cardboard box and started filling it. Though there weren’t many appliances, the bathroom had a water heater installed. A clean brown bath towel and a slightly damp brown hand towel hung there. Yang Jianzhen seemed quite clean; when Ming Zhifei first entered ten days ago, the place was dusty, but now it was spotless.
When packing the requested pajamas, Ming Zhifei opened the wardrobe, which further confirmed his observation. Although many of the clothes were in dizzyingly bright patterns and the closet was full, everything was neatly folded and organized. It wasn’t “showroom” perfect, but at least it wasn’t like his own wardrobe, where clothes were just rolled up and tossed in.
Ming Zhifei reached out and checked the memo again: “One set of navy blue pajamas, one set of grey.” He searched for a moment before finding two sets of pajamas with a soft, pearly sheen in one of the cubbies. To be honest, Ming Zhifei didn’t know men’s pajamas were made of such material; he had only ever seen his ex-wife wear silk like that. Then he opened a small drawer under the wardrobe and took out several pairs of folded underwear.
At that moment, Ming Zhifei heard a knock at the door. He had closed his own door when he left and closed Yang Jianzhen’s door when he entered. Someone was now knocking on Yang Jianzhen’s door.
Remembering what Yang Jianzhen had said, Ming Zhifei felt a surge of apprehension. He walked to the door, initially intending to ask who it was through the wood, but he felt that would only make the person outside suspicious. He simply opened the door.
Two young men in their early twenties, looking like typical street thugs, stood there. Ming Zhifei took the initiative, frowning as he asked, “Looking for me?”
“You live here?” one of the kids asked, trying to peer inside.
“Yeah. Is there a problem? Are you with property management? I’ve already downloaded the anti-fraud app.” Ming Zhifei pulled out his phone, unlocked the screen, and showed them the app.
“…When did you move in?”
“Yesterday. Why? Isn’t that when you’re supposed to download the app?”