APR 22

“Holy shit, it’s that bastard Kou Jun.” Xiao Lao Dao recognized the sender of the text message at a glance, sucking in a sharp breath. “No way, you don’t even remember this? You borrowed fifty thousand from Kou Jun to help Bai Ruolin pay off her debts and never paid him back. He’s been spreading word in the underworld that he’s going to take you out.”

“…Kou Jun?” Hearing that name, Zhong Su’s mind instantly flooded with some very unpleasant memories.

Right. That “girlfriend” of his original body, Bai Ruolin—all she did every day was buy bags and dresses. After maxing out her credit cards and being unable to pay them back, she forced the original body to cover her debts. When the original body couldn’t come up with the money, she’d threaten to break up and disappear.

And the original body, not thinking clearly, actually went to the loan shark Kou Jun to borrow fifty thousand, gritting his teeth and giving it all to his girlfriend just to keep her.

But as soon as the money was in her hands, she mercilessly blocked all his contact methods and ran off with a local gangster. He didn’t keep the girl, but he was stuck with the very real debt.

It was precisely because of this shock that the original body went to the gangster’s bar to cause trouble, stubbornly insisting on seeing Bai Ruolin, thinking he could win her sympathy and get her to come back to him.

Xiao Lao Dao held the phone, reading the text message word by word. He scratched his head and asked, “Kou Jun says he’s giving you three days to get the money together… How much do you have on you now? These underworld types are just after money. If you pay back some interest and show a good attitude, he probably won’t actually kill you.”

Zhong Su silently felt his pockets, finding only a few remaining coins, and held up five fingers.

Xiao Lao Dao: “Five hundred?”

Zhong Su’s eyelid twitched. “Five bucks.”

Xiao Lao Dao’s chubby face instantly scrunched up, looking even more miserable than a dried-out orange peel. “Fuck, we’re screwed! What do we do now?!”

“I don’t know.” Zhong Su raised a hand to press against his throbbing temple, feeling like his injured head was hurting even more now.

This original body really was a failure—not only dumped by a woman but also buried in debt, reduced to a pitiful state.

Xiao Lao Dao choked up for a moment, then suddenly seemed to remember something. He grabbed Zhong Su’s hand excitedly, his voice trembling slightly. “Don’t be scared. You’re my bro. I won’t just stand by and watch you get chopped to death.”

“I can ask my uncle to get you a job. They pay a thousand a day. Easy money.”

Zhong Su gave Xiao Lao Dao a skeptical look—in the original body’s memories, this chubby guy was enthusiastic but not exactly reliable.

Suppressing his discomfort, he slowly pulled his hand back and asked cautiously, “Such high pay? Tell me first—what exactly does the job involve?”

“It’s super simple. All you have to—”

Before Xiao Lao Dao could finish, a dull thud came from the next hospital bed. Someone had impatiently punched the wall, his tone sharp. “Do you have any common decency? There are only two people in this room, and you’re making so much noise I can’t sleep.”

Zhong Su turned and saw a young man in the next bed with a streak of red-dyed hair. He looked to be in his early twenties, wearing several silver chains around his neck with platinum pendants.

He had a cool, handsome face, his phoenix eyes sharply upturned at the corners as if drawn with a pen, exuding a rebellious air. But the thick bandage wrapped around his right foot didn’t match his appearance, making him look a bit comical.

He resembled the kind of arrogant, troublemaking punk often seen in TV dramas.

Zhong Su spoke with a detached tone, “It’s not lights-out yet. My friend and I were just talking at a normal volume.”

He Jinzhao, who had broken his leg from crashing his motorcycle on the highway, was already simmering with frustration and found everyone irritating.

Being talked back to by Zhong Su only fueled his anger further. He snapped furiously, “What nonsense about lights-out? You two disgusting gays have been holding hands and whispering in each other’s ears for ages—do you think you’re in the right?”

He expected Zhong Su to be utterly humiliated by his words.

Instead, Zhong Su merely glanced expressionlessly at his injured leg and said, “If you find it disgusting, that’s your problem. If you have the guts, come over here and make us shut up, you cripple.”

He then turned directly to Xiao Lao Dao and said bluntly, “Keep talking. Ignore that kid with issues.”

He Jinzhao could hardly believe his ears. Fuming, he retorted, “Cripple? You’re calling me a cripple? Do you even know who my father is? One phone call from me, and I’ll have you on your knees, regretting every word you just said.”

The threat was less intimidating than a loan shark’s “I’ll wipe out your entire family.” Zhong Su curled his lips slightly and let out a faint, cold laugh.

That laugh was like a spark, instantly igniting He Jinzhao’s explosive temper. Forgetting his injury entirely, he leaped off the bed and snarled, “You’re dead today, I swear.”

He threw a punch at Zhong Su, the force carrying the recklessness of youth, its trajectory straightforward and predictable.

Zhong Su sneered, blocked the punch with his right hand, and simultaneously lifted his leg, mercilessly kicking the bandaged injury—

He Jinzhao’s injured leg gave way, and he collapsed to the floor, losing his balance completely.

Zhong Su didn’t hold back. He stood up, planted his foot firmly on the injured area, and looked down at him. “Say one more word, and I’ll cripple you for good.”

“Ugh—you…” Cold sweat broke out on He Jinzhao’s forehead. As soon as he uttered a syllable, Zhong Su increased the pressure, making him gasp in pain and choke back the rest of his words.

He had never been humiliated like this before. Trembling with rage, he hissed through gritted teeth, “Get your fucking foot off me! My leg was just bandaged, this isn’t a joke!”

Still pressing down on the leg, Zhong Su leaned closer, locking eyes with him. “If you want someone to spare you, you should show some respect. Try again. Apologize properly.”

He Jinzhao’s unrestrained remarks had stirred the cold ruthlessness in Zhong Su’s nature. There was no trace of amusement in his eyes—only dark shadows in his hazel irises.

Meeting that gloomy gaze, He Jinzhao’s heart skipped a beat. He stared wide-eyed as if hearing something absurd. “Enough already! I didn’t even touch you, and you’re beating me up and demanding an apology?”

His voice was a mix of anger and disbelief, utterly baffled by the overwhelming pressure emanating from this handsome young man.

But he soon paid the price for his stubbornness. Zhong Su suddenly increased the pressure under his foot. A sharp, explosive pain shot through He Jinzhao’s injury, as if the wound had torn open again, making his vision blur.

Zhong Su lowered his gaze. “Apologize or not?”

He Jinchao still wanted to grit his teeth and tough it out, but the pain came in waves, each more excruciating than the last, piercing to the bone. In the end, he couldn’t hold on any longer and tremblingly squeezed out a few words: “S-sorry… I said it, is that enough now?”

Hearing the red-haired young man reluctantly admit his mistake, Zhong Su finally revealed a faint smile. He moved his foot away and patted He Jinchao’s head: “That’s more like it. Kids shouldn’t cause trouble. Wait until the adults finish talking, there’ll be plenty of time for you to sleep.”

Zhong Su actually looked quite handsome when he smiled, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. It was like broken ice floating on a winter river’s surface, shimmering with a cold, glittering light – beautiful yet chilling to the heart.

This made He Jinchao choke up, unable to speak. He dramatically turned his face away, stubbornly refusing to look at Zhong Su anymore, but the faint red burning at the tips of his ears betrayed his emotions.

Xiao Lao Dao, watching from the side, was stunned. He couldn’t help but give Zhong Su a thumbs up, marveling: “Damn, Zhong Su! This is the second time you’ve disciplined someone like this today, you’ve really grown up!”

“How did you do that move just now? With a ‘swish,’ I only saw an afterimage, and the guy was already on the ground.”

Zhong Su didn’t respond, instead pressing the call button by the bed.

Before long, a nurse arrived at the sound. As soon as she entered, she saw He Jinchao slumped on the floor in a sorry state, momentarily confused: “What… what happened here? How did you end up on the floor like this?”

Zhong Su looked at the nurse, his voice carrying just the right amount of weakness: “This kid tried to get out of bed by himself but lost his balance and fell. I don’t have much strength right now and couldn’t help him up, so I had to trouble you professionals to get him back to bed.”

The nurse, finding his account completely believable without any suspicion, quickly called other colleagues to help He Jinchao back to bed. While moving him, she couldn’t help but gently advise: “Be more careful next time, you shouldn’t move around recklessly with your leg injury.”

He Jinchao bit his lip hard, remaining completely silent throughout.

Seeing the kid had finally quieted down, Zhong Su continued asking Xiao Lao Dao: “Go on, what were you saying about work earlier? What’s the specific situation?”

At this, Xiao Lao Dao became quite enthusiastic, shaking his head proudly: “Here’s the thing! My uncle is a pretty famous director – Jiang Xun, heard of him? You might have seen his films too.”

“He’s shooting a new project recently and is having trouble finding good-looking young male actors. I can put in a word with him and get you into the crew as an extra, no problem at all.”

Zhong Su frowned: “Acting? I don’t know how to do that.”

Although he usually enjoyed watching movies, that didn’t mean he wanted to appear on the big screen himself. Moreover, he knew nothing about this “Jiang Xun” director who had seemingly appeared out of nowhere seven years later, and wasn’t sure if he could be trusted.

“Who said you need to actually know how to act!” Xiao Lao Dao quickly waved his hand. “You’d just be an extra, standing around to fill the crowd, saying a couple of lines, or just lying on the ground playing dead – anyone can do it.”

Noticing Zhong Su still looked hesitant, he patiently persuaded: “Don’t shake your head so quickly, think about that debt to Kou Jun. Where else can you find work that’s easier and pays faster than this in such a short time?”

Zhong Su fell into contemplation. He understood clearly that for small-time gangsters like the original host and Xiao Lao Dao—who had no skills, no education, and were not valued by the gang, being able to scrape by with a meal on a film set was already quite fortunate. They truly had no right to be picky.

After thinking for a while, he cleared his throat and finally relented, “Alright, I’ll consider it. You should head back for today.”

Xiao Lao Dao immediately broke into a wide grin, let out an “Aye,” and glanced at the thick darkness outside the window before swiftly gathering his keys, phone, and other small items from the bedside table.

He patted Zhong Su’s shoulder reassuringly and said, “Bro, don’t overthink it. Get a good night’s sleep, and I’ll come pick you up from the hospital tomorrow morning.”

As Xiao Lao Dao closed the door behind him, the ward quickly grew quiet. Before long, the fluorescent light flickered off with a soft click, plunging the room into dimness. Only the faint glow of the corridor nightlight seeped through the door crack, casting a hazy halo.

Zhong Su rested his head on the pillow and scanned the unfamiliar hospital room. Only now did he feel a hollow emptiness settle in his heart—everything here belonged to a time seven years later, a world he knew nothing about.

His friends, his gang brothers, the events that had unfolded on Qiyan Island, all of it felt as vivid as if it had just happened. Yet, the moment he opened his eyes, he had become someone else, wearing a face even he found unfamiliar, burdened with a mess of troubles, and with no way of even finding out where Chen Huan had gone.

He sighed silently. Only by finding Chen Huan, or anyone who recognized him, could he confirm that he hadn’t lost his mind.

Zhong Su turned his head, his gaze falling on the neighboring bed. The red-haired young man, who had been so arrogant earlier, was now lying with his back to him, his shoulders and back tense, as if even the back of his head spelled out the words “I’m pissed.”

What a child, unable to hide even the slightest thought.

Zhong Su pretended not to notice, closed his eyes, and tried to clear his mind of distractions. Just before his consciousness sank into sleep, the last image that surfaced in his mind was Chen Huan leaping into the raging waves, reaching out a hand as if trying to grab him.