Chapter 2

Zhuang Shicheng sent the photo to his scheming cousin with the message: [You got married and had a kid without telling any of us?]

Of course Zhuang Shicheng knew Zou Fengsheng wasn’t married. The man had practically lived like a monk these past few years, without so much as a girlfriend.

He was only trying to embarrass him. That bastard was always plotting against him, after all.

To his surprise, Zou Fengsheng replied at once.

[Where are they?]

When we got home, I decided it was time for a heart-to-heart with Xu Haixin.

“Haixin, do you really need a dad that badly?”

She shook her head and corrected my wording.

“I don’t need one. I’m confused. Why does everyone else have a dad except me?”

I said, “Then why don’t you wonder why all the other children get top marks except you?”

Xu Haixin burst out laughing, clumsily changed the subject, and wrapped herself around my leg. “Mom, I want a bath.”

Looking at that face, so much like Zou Fengsheng‘s, I sighed helplessly.

Back in college, I worked part-time as a hotel server.

One night, while I was on duty, I found Zou Fengsheng in the hallway, blind drunk.

I called the front desk. After checking their records, they asked me to help him back to his private suite.

“Keep an eye on his breathing. If someone loses control of their body and vomits after drinking, they can choke very easily.

“I’ve contacted his assistant. Wait until the assistant arrives before you leave.”

I obediently helped Zou Fengsheng onto the bed.

After tucking him in, I sat on the floor and held my hand under his nose every so often to make sure he was still breathing.

The next time I reached over, Zou Fengsheng‘s eyes suddenly opened. He stared at me in bewilderment.

“Who are you?”

“Hotel staff.”

“Oh.”

“Um…”

As we stared blankly at each other, his assistant arrived, pulled a thick wad of red banknotes from his wallet, and handed it to me.

“Thanks for the trouble. You can go. I’ll take it from here.”

It was money from heaven. I thanked him profusely and beat a grateful retreat.

The second time I met Zou Fengsheng was at the cafe where I worked another part-time job.

He wore a sharp suit and rimless glasses, looking every inch the respectable gentleman, and asked me to add a little chili oil to a hot Americano.

I assumed he had peculiar tastes. Instead, he served the spiked coffee directly to the man sitting across from him.

Now that I thought about it, the victim had looked a lot like Mr. Zhuang.

That same evening, Zou Fengsheng and I met again in a private dining room at a restaurant.

He hesitated for a while, but in the end he couldn’t hold the question back.

“Exactly how many jobs do you have?”

I answered honestly, “Five regular ones.”

“There are irregular ones too?”

“Handing out flyers, pretending to be a fan at airport arrivals, playing a corpse… Those gigs don’t come along every day.”

Zou Fengsheng frowned. “Are you that desperate for money?”

I rolled my eyes inwardly. “No. I do it because I’m an idiot.”

Zou Fengsheng caught on and suddenly laughed.

He asked which university I attended. He had an opening for an assistant, he said, and the pay was good. If I was a suitable fit, I could intern for him.

Then he handed me a business card.

I looked the company up. It was an industry leader, the kind of place where people fought tooth and nail for an internship.

Of course I was going.