Ning Xi walked out of the police station, a faint smile finally appearing on her face.
She had filed the report promptly, with complete evidence, and the situation was still looking hopeful.
She felt that the police officer’s educational talk had been very instructive, and the anti-fraud videos were really useful.
Her awareness and vigilance were now as high as they could possibly be.
Most importantly, there was hope of getting the money back!
She was broke now—every single yuan had to be stretched three ways.
On her way back to the neighborhood, she couldn’t even bear to spend money on the bus.
The scorching midday sun, however, made her give up on saving the bus fare.
If she walked back, her knees wouldn’t hold up, and she might even get heatstroke.
That would cost even more money.
Ning Xi boarded the bus, drenched in sweat.
On the bus, she saw someone drinking an iced Americano and swallowed hard, feeling that even her saliva tasted more bitter than that coffee.
Ning Xi endured her hunger and thirst until her stop, then got off.
At the fresh grocery store outside the neighborhood, she bought a 500-milliliter bottle of oil, five packs of dried noodles, a carton of eggs, and a big bunch of discounted cabbage.
She didn’t skimp on the light soy sauce and dark soy sauce.
Last night’s plain white noodles with only salt had left her traumatized.
After paying, Ning Xi licked her dry, cracked lips.
With both hands full of groceries, she walked and rested in turns.
By the time she got home, it was almost one o’clock—past lunchtime.
She sorted the things she’d bought and put them away in the kitchen.
He Kezhou often cooked at home, so there were basic kitchen utensils.
Ning Xi cooked herself a big bowl of egg and vegetable noodles.
Having been hungry all morning, she nearly ate the bowl itself.
She poured the last bit of broth from the pot into her bowl and drank it all.
She went into the bedroom and started the quick wash cycle on the bedsheets He Kezhou had thrown into the washing machine last night.
When a person is so poor they can barely afford their next meal, they’ll find any way to make money.
Ning Xi thought of the unopened packages the original owner hadn’t gotten around to opening, and the authentic carryall bag in the room.
Her WeChat contacts included local secondhand groups and luxury resale groups.
She’d returned all the packages she could. Because her shopping credit score was high, the refunds were basically instant once the courier picked them up—except for the big-ticket items, which had to be shipped back and inspected before the refund went through.
The carryall bag, which the original owner had treasured and only carried out occasionally, was in 95% new condition.
The moment she posted it, people started adding her as a friend, asking about the price and whether it was authentic.
The original owner had bought this bag in-store after scrimping and saving for half a year, plus putting it on her credit card.
The bag was real.
In the end, the bag sold for 15,000 yuan.
The buyer came to pick it up an hour later.
Ning Xi marveled at how fast the buyer had arrived.
Looking at the transfer that had landed in her account, she turned on the air conditioning in the living room.
When she had no money, she didn’t even dare turn on the AC despite the heat.
This month’s electricity bill hadn’t been paid yet.
After paying the electricity bill, she ordered two electric fans on JD.com.
After paying off her credit card, Ning Xi looked at her remaining balance and headed straight out the door, not even turning off the AC.
Half an hour later, she came back carrying heavy supplies, and as she enjoyed the cool air conditioning, she felt so happy she could cry.
She stuffed the fridge’s crisper drawer full of eggs, vegetables, and fruit.
Her phone, lying nearby, buzzed.
Ning Xi picked it up.
It was a reminder that her phone bill was about to run out.
Ning Xi collapsed onto the sofa. Tomorrow—she’d top up her phone tomorrow.
She sent He Kezhou a message, asking what time he’d be home that night.
She planned to make dinner and wait for him to come back and eat together.
This was her first step toward mending their relationship.
The message was sent, but no reply came.
In Ning Xi’s mind, the auto shop where He Kezhou worked surfaced.
There, an entire street was lined with auto repair storefronts.
Linli Street, located in the old district of the new city.
The setting sun dyed half the sky red, casting its glow over the storefront signs along the street.
The shop signs were each more haphazard than the last, and the equipment was older and older with each shop.
Three months ago, the repair shop with the largest footprint—three storefronts wide—had been taken over by someone new.
Everyone was pessimistic about the young boss who’d taken over the shop.
The business at this shop had already been run into the ground by the previous owner’s son.
The new boss didn’t look like someone who knew how to run a business.
One glance and you could tell he was a rich kid. Probably someone who’d never known hardship, out to experience real life.
The shop’s old employees had all been let go by the new boss, except for one young man from out of town who’d just joined the shop not long before.
The man was quiet, just burying his head in work every day.
Three months ago, the repair shop that had only one boss and one employee suddenly had a young pretty boy show up driving a supercar.
The pretty boy begged shamelessly to stay, saying he wanted to buy in as a partner.
The boss blasted him out with a high-pressure water gun.
Unable to get into the shop, the pretty boy hauled a tent out of his car and set it up outside the shop.
Through wind and rain, he stayed in that tent for a week. Finally, thanks to his thick skin, he was allowed to stay.
Everyone thought it wouldn’t work out, but the guy actually delivered.
The dead shop was truly brought back to life.
Business was booming every single day.
You have to admit, rich second-generation kids have an easier time doing business than ordinary people like them.
Just as expected, at nearly three in the afternoon, another young man in a luxury car pulled up to “Little Meng Auto Repair,” and at the door, he nearly got down on his knees to kowtow to the boss.
The owner of the neighboring auto shop, gnawing on a chilled watermelon, blamed his lack of business entirely on these rich second-generation kids who were “experiencing life” and stealing customers from ordinary folks like them.
Before this group showed up, his shop could still take in some business with detailing and regular car washes.
Now, the car-washing crowd had all flocked next door in droves.
And those wealthy women driving luxury cars—their cars clearly had zero problems, yet they insisted something was wrong.
What were they after? They were after the faces of those three young men.
These three kids—what did they know about mechanics?
Sooner or later, something was bound to go wrong.
At that moment, the young man in the luxury car that the neighboring boss was muttering about stood with his hands on his hips under the rolling shutter door, pointing at the “Little Meng Auto Repair” sign with heartfelt anguish: “Brother Zhen, you can’t just think it’s fate because it’s also called ‘Little Meng.’ You’ve been holed up in this godforsaken place for three months—look at yourself, you’re neither man nor ghost.”
“You gave up a perfectly good family business just like that, and fine, forget the business—but how can you just ditch your friends too?”
“Is it just because some woman dumped you? When have you ever been short on women? I’m putting it out there today, Brother Zhen—whatever kind of woman you want, I’ll find her for you!”
Meng Yizhen slid under the car, the wrench catching the bolt as his arm strained hard, veins bulging. Oil dripping from the undercarriage nearly landed in his eye, and he tilted his head to dodge it.
The young man didn’t mind being treated like air by Meng Yizhen, his mouth running a mile a minute.
A tall man in a black tank top and camouflage pants set down his car-polishing work. “Fei’er, once you’re done yapping, move your piece-of-junk car somewhere else—you’re blocking our business.”
Chen Xufei clutched his chest, furious at Zhou Zhishui.
That car of his was brand new! Brand new!
“Zhou Zhishui, the boss sent us here to talk some sense into him, not to go along with the crowd.”
“Pfft, pfft, not to aid the wicked.”
“Pfft, pfft, pfft, not to let us—”
Zhou Zhishui walked into the neighboring wash bay, snatched the water gun from He Kezhou’s hand, and sprayed Chen Xufei with it.
If you can’t use idioms right, then don’t damn use them at all.
The yapping was getting on his nerves.
Zhou Zhishui gave Chen Xufei no kindness, but turned to He Kezhou with a fawning grin, flashing a row of white teeth, his voice dripping with ingratiation: “Brother Zhou, your phone just buzzed a couple of times—go reply to your messages and take a break. I’ll wash this car.”
Chen Xufei, drenched by the high-pressure water gun, howled, “Zhou Zhishui, since when do you grovel to anyone besides Brother Zhen?”
Zhou Zhishui snuck a glance at his Brother Zhen, who was still under the car fixing it.
After looking for a while, he didn’t feel sorry for him anymore.
He even thought it was only natural for the boss to do the repairs himself.
Too busy—just too busy.
He couldn’t be bothered with Chen Xufei.
His fawning over He Kezhou came from a guilty conscience.
So he had to find every way he could to make amends.
If three months ago, he hadn’t been bored out of his mind and used He Kezhou’s phone to sign up for Heartbeats, and then taken it upon himself to match him with a partner through the app—
He Kezhou never would’ve fallen into an online romance.
And life now wouldn’t be such a mess.
He Kezhou finally remembered his phone, which had been silent for nearly the whole day.
He walked next door and picked up the phone charging on the cardboard box.
It was fully charged.
No missed calls.
He tapped into WeChat.
In WeChat, only Ning Xi was pinned at the top.
The pinned chat had one unread message.
Sent six minutes ago.
Xixi Milk Foam: 【What time do you get off work today?】
This was the first time he hadn’t replied to Ning Xi’s message instantly, and she hadn’t sent another one or called to interrogate him.
Zhou Zhishui sidled up to He Kezhou. “The warden checking in?”
He’d been wondering why He Kezhou hadn’t gotten the usual check-in calls and phone harassment from Ning Xi today.
And sure enough—speak of the devil.