Chapter 23 Part 2

Even suppressing his voice, Qian Xingzhi roared, “Do I need to remind you that Shen Li’s a man? If you’re missing motherly love, go home to your own mom. Why are you fantasizing about him?!”

Su Xilan’s voice paused for a beat. After a moment, he said, “But I haven’t had a mom for a long time.”

Qian Xingzhi: …?

“After my mom died, no one’s ever talked to me as gently or patiently as he did~” Su Xilan sniffled, his voice sounding utterly pitiful. “So I really do think… Shen Li’s such a good person. So gentle. I really want him to be my mommy.”

Qian Xingzhi: .

Even back when he and Shen Li were married, Shen Li still had plenty of admirers. But Qian Xingzhi had never encountered anything like this.

Who went after someone to turn their spouse into their mom?

Qian Xingzhi just couldn’t wrap his head around it.

“So what exactly are you trying to say?”

His voice still sounded coldly detached and heartless, even a bit irritable and utterly lacking in empathy. “No matter how great Shen Li is, he can’t be the object of your motherly fixation. That whole performance of yours in front of the audience had nothing to do with thanking him.”

“Hahaha, you’re right. It was on purpose,” Su Xilan suddenly burst out laughing. “I did it to block your path, leave you with nowhere to go—put simply, I’m Shen Li’s number-one fan. Got it?”

Qian Xingzhi: ?

“Just thinking about him having to put up with you again makes my skin crawl. I can’t even sleep from how uncomfortable it is.”

Qian Xingzhi had been holding his phone pressed to his face.

At those words, he pulled it away and glanced at the screen.

“What’s wrong? Cat got your tongue?” Su Xilan laughed, his voice turning all coy and syrupy sweet. “Did I get under your skin already? I haven’t even really started yet, and you can’t take it? Weren’t you pretty fierce when you were cursing me out just now~?”

Qian Xingzhi’s fingers flew across the screen: “Hold on. I’ve suddenly changed my mind.”

“Hm?”

Su Xilan responded in confusion.

“I can’t stand it anymore. I’ve got to tell Shen Li—a bigger nutcase than me has shown up—”

Su Xilan: ?

Qian Xingzhi sent the message with a cold snort. “Fine. If you want the audience to vote you in, we’ll compete fair and square. But let me tell you this—Shen Li hates headcases like you the most. So now I think it’s a good idea for him to meet you. Once he has something to compare to, he won’t just fixate on calling me a pervert. Hell, he might even start looking at me more favorably.”

Su Xilan: ???

–

Netizen Comments

【Aww, after the sales pitch ended, Broccoli’s face turned blacker than the bottom of a pot. What’s eating him?】

【Yeah, shouldn’t he be thrilled about connecting with Shen Li tonight?】

【Maybe because Shen Li got sorted into Group B? Feeling bad for Shen Li, so the long face?】

【It’s not that bad. The afternoon production activity means everyone can join in. Yesterday, Shen Li didn’t even get to participate at first—that was worse. But he handled it anyway.】

【We can’t keep dumping unfair stuff on Shen Li just because he’s capable!】

【Exactly! No vote today—just decided on the fly like that. So unfair.】

【Eh, it’s fine, I think. Group A with five people looks like it has more prize money—ten grand. Split evenly, two grand each. Tempting for sure. But the work sounds exhausting! Cleaning that whole fish pond? They’d probably be too wiped out to eat dinner.】

【True. Shen Li’s gig is only five grand, but look how happy he is just sitting there.】

【Hahaha, I saw! That spot looks made for him. Too cute!】

The August sun blazed mercilessly at three-thirty in the afternoon, as scorching as ever.

On the camera feed, Shen Li had changed into a fresh outfit, a security hat perched on his head. He sat in an absurdly oversized, somewhat worn little bear chair meant for kids—

Dozing off.

Staring into space.

Every so often, swatting at a mosquito landing on his face.

Smack! (ｏ ‵-′)ノ

He really nailed one.

Shen Li frowned slightly, pulling a square of tissue paper from somewhere to wipe the mosquito corpse—smeared with his own blood—off his skin. He balled it up and tossed it toward the trash bin. Swish. Perfect shot.

After furrowing his brow for half a minute in thought, Shen Li finally stood up, his expression blank. He dragged his bum leg to a corner just out of the camera’s view, crouched down, and splashed his face with clear stream water.

Three minutes later.

He plopped right back down onto the beat-up little bear chair in the guard booth.

A pink patch marked the spot on his left cheek where the mosquito had bitten him, but Shen Li paid it no mind.

He propped his head on one hand against the table, his gaze drifting vacantly as he let out another yawn. Physiological tears nearly brimmed over from his eyes.

Shen Li was genuinely sleepy.

It wasn’t that he lacked professionalism or had forgotten the spirit of hard work and perseverance.

This spot was just too comfortable—shady, quiet, safe. All he had to do was sit there without moving, watching the gate that hardly anyone ever used, and he’d earn the five thousand that yesterday’s contestants had fought tooth and nail for.

How was there such a good deal?

Shen Li thought to himself that the end of striving was a stable position, and the end of stable positions was security guard duty.

If back then he hadn’t chased that civil service exam and had just become a security guard in some neighborhood complex, maybe his leg wouldn’t have broken, the blood wouldn’t have flowed, and Qian Xingzhi wouldn’t have resented him for not caring for the family or suddenly demanded a divorce…

At that thought, a single teardrop pearl welled up in his unfocused, drowsy eyes. He reached to wipe it away.

Then, from not far off, came the sound of a heated argument—voices both familiar and strange.

“I didn’t ask you for anything! I just meant if we organize this stuff properly, we might get extra prize money. What did I say wrong? Why are you suddenly flipping out?”

Ke Jiujiu’s voice lacked its usual coquettish lilt; it carried real anger now.

Lin Xu wasn’t any calmer.

“Flipping out? I told you not to tell me how to do things! These are junk—not guaranteed extra money. Even if it did pay off, am I supposed to haul every single one of these boxes by myself while you stand there bossing me around?!”

The argument escalated.

Shen Li rose from the little bear chair and took a couple of steps forward.

Ke Jiujiu’s voice even cracked with a sob. “Did I say to boss you around? I haven’t done anything yet, and you’re inexplicably yelling at me?”

Lin Xu stared at her coldly, without a shred of sympathy. “You’re all talk. Ever since we got together, haven’t I done everything for you? Fine then, Miss Ke. Am I just your personal slave? Who wasn’t born with a silver spoon?”

…

“—I… I’m not.”

The two, deep in their quarrel, heard a sudden voice from behind them.

Its tone was flat, making no effort to placate, offering no unnecessary jokes. It simply continued, “I wasn’t born with a silver spoon. So, how exactly do you young master and miss plan to organize these boxes?”

Shen Li’s delivery was as even as saying, “It’s hot out—bring me some iced tea.”

Clean, refreshingly straightforward, helplessly calm, and oddly soothing.

As he spoke, he pitched in to sort the wooden crates.

Ke Jiujiu blinked in surprise, then slipped back into her usual saccharine tone. She glanced at Shen Li’s leg. “Wow, Brother Shen~ No need, no need! You go sit down. We can handle it.”

Shen Li didn’t argue.

He hadn’t wanted to move them anyway.

Their actual job as security guards was to sit or patrol—yet for some reason, this one had decided to make extra work for himself.

He had only stepped in because their bickering was getting out of hand, like a neighborhood mediator breaking up a squabbling couple. Now that he’d derailed it, he was ready to withdraw.

After all, arbitrarily hauling boxes from the east yard to the west—did that scream “bonus material”?

These kids must have been desperate for cash.

So he quietly let Ke Jiujiu take over the crate.

But the next second, Lin Xu exploded again, his emotions wildly unstable, like a lit firecracker.

“Look at you—always smiling and sweet-talking other guys, full of consideration. But for me?”

Shen Li’s head throbbed as Lin Xu inexplicably dragged him into it. He took half a step back.

Ke Jiujiu wailed hysterically, on the verge of breaking down. “I’m just being polite to others! Have I ever actually liked someone else?!”

Shen Li: …

Hold on.

That sounded familiar…

“But you talk to him gentler than to me! You do this with everyone—zero boundaries!”

Lin Xu’s voice reached peak fury. He’d been holding it in since the hunting contest yesterday, and now it all erupted.

Just like Qian Xingzhi back when his emotions were unstable—bottling it up for ages before blowing up.

Ke Jiujiu’s mouth quivered in grievance. She burst into pitiful tears, blinking rapidly as fat teardrops rained down.

“I’m done recording. I need some peace.”

With that, she ran off crying, vanishing from the camera’s view.

Shen Li stood in place with his hands clasped behind his back, brows furrowed. His gaze appeared somewhat dazed, but in truth, the contours of his face had stiffened and darkened.

It wasn’t clear whether it was the sudden eruption of conflict between the two that had caught him off guard, or if it had stirred memories of his own past with Qian Xingzhi.

He let out a wordless sigh, glanced at the furious Lin Xu—whose face and neck were flushed red with rage—then walked back to his little bear chair and sat down.

No more words of comfort. No polite platitudes.

He simply sat there quietly, his face expressionless.

He seemed enveloped in a hazy, melancholic calm, scarcely moving a muscle for more than three hours.

From midday until sunset.

As time wore on, the brilliant sun dipped behind the mountains, the sky gradually shedding its vivid hues in favor of a gentle twilight.

Shen Li looked lost in thought,

but his mind was a whirlwind of chaos.

The exchange between Lin Xu and Ke Jiujiu had acted like a fuse, dragging the problems he’d been deliberately sidestepping these past few days into the harsh light of day.

What divorced couple didn’t have their issues?

He had to admit, he and Qian Xingzhi hadn’t split due to anyone’s rash impulse. Beneath the surface calm lay years of accumulated debris and muck, emotions swirling like a vortex. No one was clearly right or wrong; fault couldn’t be neatly assigned between them.