One basic rule of thumb about cell phones: if you pick up an unknown call that starts with some canned opener, just hang up. It’s either a sales pitch or a scam.
Almost everyone knows that. The non-human neighbor doesn’t.
So Yu Bai dialed the first scam call of his life with some excitement, struggling to hold back his laughter so he wouldn’t give himself away. He waited quietly for the reaction on the other end.
Xie Wufang should have just bought his phone and be heading home by now.
Faint ambient noise filtered through the receiver: cars rumbling past, the occasional honk of a horn, indistinct snippets of conversation drifting over the lively afternoon streets.
After a moment of silence, the man on the other end spoke first. “It’s me.”
Then, with a hint of hesitation, he added, “How do you know my name and phone number?”
He actually had a bit of privacy awareness.
You told me yourself.
Yu Bai answered silently in his mind before cobbling together a flimsy excuse. “It’s like this, Mr. Xie. Any new phone number that gets registered automatically enters our customer database. We can see the name and everything.”
Privacy leaks were par for the course in the human world anyway.
Come to think of it, Yu Bai was pretty curious how this guy had managed to get a phone number, sign a rental contract, and handle all the other stuff that required ID.
…He must have done it the normal way, right?
Yu Bai’s thoughts were drifting when Xie Wufang’s voice came through, thoughtful. “Like the welcome message?”
“Huh?” Yu Bai blinked, caught off guard. “What welcome message?”
The man explained, “I just got a text. It said, ‘Dear tourist friend, Brilliant Stars welcomes you. We wish you a safe and pleasant journey…'”
Hearing that deadpan, utterly serious tone, Yu Bai lost it and burst out laughing.
What a memory—retaining even a throwaway message like that.
“Right, just like the welcome message,” Yu Bai managed between chuckles. “It’s a blanket text sent to out-of-town numbers based on phone signal location when they arrive in the city. Or at least, that’s how it works in other cities.”
“Is it different here?”
“Yeah, in our city, the folks in charge might be a little scatterbrained, so local numbers get it sometimes too. Like you, right after activating your new one.”
The man gave a soft hum of acknowledgment, then asked, “Why are you laughing?”
Yu Bai tried his best to stay in character for the scam call, but the laughter bubbled up uncontrollably.
“Because… you do know the name of our city, right?”
“Skystar City.”
Exactly. Skystar City.
The city where Yu Bai had grown up wasn’t the capital or even a provincial seat—just your average mid-sized town with no standout specialties or tourist draws. But it had a reputation outside its borders.
Mostly because of the name.
“Every time tourists from out of town visit or pass through, they get that message. And you’ll see people online griping or asking what big celebrities this place must have produced to greet them with ‘Brilliant Stars welcomes you’—like it’s some massive concert.”
“Then a bunch of locals chime in: ‘Think about the city’s name again…'”
Right on cue, the non-human neighbor on the line repeated, “Skystar City.”
Yu Bai laughed even harder, pinching the flesh of his palm to rein it in.
“Yeah, so ‘Brilliant Stars’ is actually just hyping up the city. But the phrase usually means a ton of celebrities—you know, famous people. And boom, misunderstanding.”
The pun was hilarious on its own, and digging up online threads about your hometown to clue in baffled visitors was a favorite pastime for Skystar locals. Yu Bai and Yan Jing had done it plenty of times when they were bored, cracking up at the comments.
And now here he was, trying to explain a dumb human pun to a literal non-human.
The sheer absurdity of it was killing him.
Yu Bai couldn’t stop laughing. He’d totally forgotten his sales script.
This round’s a bust.
Better reset and try again. Next time, no laughing.
Yu Bai was about to trigger a time loop reset by spilling the beans and kicking off a fresh round when Xie Wufang spoke up.
“Very fun.” A faint trace of amusement colored his voice. “Is this part of experiencing city life?”
Yu Bai froze for a second before the original premise of the call snapped back into focus.
What had he pitched again? Oh yeah—a one-day tour of local city life.
“…Yes, Mr. Xie. This is a perfect chance for me to share some fun stories tied to our city’s name.”
Awkwardly, Yu Bai pressed on. “Are you satisfied with my service so far? Ready to keep experiencing?”
“…Satisfied.” The reply came just as awkwardly. “Yes.”
The exchange sounded… off, somehow.
Amid the hustle and bustle of the street, Yu Bai rubbed his aching, laugh-sore cheeks in a daze and started walking toward their agreed meeting spot.
Either way, he’d successfully lured his next-door non-human neighbor, Mr. Xie, out with one phone call.
Hooray for him.
Under the eaves across the street, the four floral-shirted buzzcut guys—who were supposed to be huddled around a fake card game—had been staring blankly upward for ages.
It wasn’t until the figure they were tailing for protection was on the verge of vanishing from view that their leader, A Qiang, snapped to. He slapped his brothers’ shoulders to jolt them back to reality.
Knife-Scarred A Qiang furrowed his brow. “Quit daydreaming. Move it—follow him.”
One of the guys shot back right away, “Brother Qiang, you were zoning out too.”
A Qiang didn’t deny it. His expression softened, the scar twisting his fierce face into something more wistful.
“It’s been… how many years? Haven’t seen Young Master Yu—”
…laugh like that in forever.
Before his brother could voice the unspoken thought, A Qiang coughed loudly, cutting him off.
“Quit yapping. Hurry up, or we’ll lose sight of him.”
He felt the exact same way.
But saying it out loud? Kinda weird.
The group rubbed their buzzcuts, moods tangled, and hustled after the figure rounding the street corner.
Their colorful floral shirts billowed in the summer breeze.
A bright, vivid kite soared through the sky.
Down in the park below, a gaggle of kids clutched the kite string, racing across the grass and whooping under the glaring sunlight.
Standing in the shade of a tree, Yu Bai watched them for a moment before looking away. He turned to the blue-eyed man beside him. “Kite-flying’s usually a spring thing—the weather’s better for it.”
Midsummer heatwave, and they weren’t even fazed by the sun. Kids.
Xie Wufang, absorbing this new tidbit, nodded faintly. His gaze lingered on the giggling, scampering children. “A leisure activity for kids?”
“Yeah. Adults don’t fly kites on their own.”
Yu Bai paused, then added for precision, “Though some grown-ups with a real childlike streak might. And cities sometimes hold kite festivals, turning it into a big group event.”
Truth be told, Yu Bai hadn’t planned on actually playing tour guide for his non-human acquaintance, dishing out slices of human city life.
He’d just needed an excuse to get him outside.
But once they met up, Yu Bai spotted something familiar in Xie Wufang’s hands.
An old-looking notebook made of some unusual material.
That “diary” crammed with indecipherable symbols, no doubt.
He still couldn’t read the contents, so he had no clue what Xie Wufang used it for. But carrying it along on their city-life day trip bumped up the odds it was a diary—or some kind of travel journal—considerably.
An odd sense of responsibility stirred in Yu Bai’s chest.
Might as well point out the sights along the way.
“This is Sun Park,” he said. “One of Skystar City’s landmarks—the biggest park in town. Come spring, kids flock here to fly kites.”
Their neighborhood was right nearby, which was why he’d picked the spot for their rendezvous.
Prime location, really. Shame about those ghost stories keeping it so deserted.
At that, Xie Wufang asked, “Does Skystar City hold a kite festival?”
“Probably not.” As Yu Bai answered, the corners of his mouth twitched upward again. “Can’t say I remember one.”
These days, just hearing “Skystar” set him off.
Especially in the non-human’s voice.
Yu Bai fought to keep a straight face and pivoted the topic. “Of course, it’s not just kids who hang out in the park. Adults come to stroll, picnic… or play chess.”
He let the last word trail out, finally tipping his hand on the real goal of the outing.
It was now known that Xie Wufang was a diligent, eager learner—a non-human actively integrating into human life.
Just how strong was his learning ability?
Yu Bai felt this was a question worth exploring.
It would determine what he could bring Xie Wufang along for in the days ahead within the loops: researching how to cook a pot of edible fried chicken, or tackling one of those world-class math puzzles that had stumped humanity for years.
Compared to the rigid drudgery of math problems, chess made for a better test.
Yu Bai pointed toward the clusters of people gathered under the nearby tree shade. “Chess is a popular pastime among the locals here. You move the pieces according to the rules until there’s a clear winner. Want to give it a try?”
All around them, the lush green park teemed with clusters of middle-aged and elderly folks huddled over chessboards or card games. Crowds often gathered to watch, and bursts of cheers or regretful sighs would occasionally ripple through the dense groups of onlookers.
Yu Bai glanced around and noted that Chinese chess had the most players—and spectators. The only other game nearby was a single Go board, utterly devoid of an audience.
Xie Wufang answered honestly, “I don’t know how to play chess.”
Of course he didn’t. He’d only just learned the word seconds ago.
Yu Bai smiled faintly. “No problem. You can learn.”
He watched those gray-blue eyes scan the unfamiliar crowds, then suddenly fixate on one of the chessboards.
“Why are there more white pieces than black ones there?” Xie Wufang asked.
On the pale yellow Go board, vast swaths of white stones enclosed scattered black ones, isolated and vulnerable.
Because the player with white was on the verge of victory.
That was Yu Bai’s thought, though he kept it to himself. After all, they were standing too close to the players.
Besides, he didn’t want to use Go for the test. A single game took far too long.
“How about we go watch some Chi—”
Before Yu Bai could finish, Xie Wufang murmured thoughtfully, “Is white about to win?”
The white player, an old man standing with arms crossed and an air of supreme confidence, contrasted sharply with his black opponent’s furrowed brow and pained expression. Even without knowing the rules of Go, anyone could guess who had the upper hand.
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