21: Chapter 21 The Beautiful Next Door

After packing up the last snake-skin bag, Zhang Fan handed a bag of fruit to Fat Auntie at the hostel: "Thank you for looking after me for the past half month."

Fat Auntie grabbed his hand and pushed it back: "It's not easy for a young man to start a business, take it and eat it!"

He smiled, turned around, and got on Third Grand-Uncle's tricycle.

"Third Grand-Uncle, just drop me off at the entrance of Yujing Garden." Zhang Fan instructed in advance, fearing the residential complex wouldn't allow entry.

Third Grand-Uncle pedaled the tricycle and chuckled: "Don't worry, your Third Grand-Uncle's ride can go anywhere, except maybe Zhongnanhai."

But upon arriving at the entrance of Yujing Garden, the security guard actually stopped them.

"Sir, outside tricycles aren't allowed in." The security guard gave a sloppy salute, his eyes darting to the bulging snake-skin bags.

Third Grand-Uncle became anxious: "I'm just helping someone move..."

"It's okay, Third Grand-Uncle, I'll move it myself." Zhang Fan jumped off the tricycle and shoved a bottle of iced black tea into his hand: "You head back first, I'll transfer the money to your WeChat."

He secretly scanned the old man's payment code, calculating in his heart to transfer 100 yuan—50 more than the market price, just as a token of thanks.

The items didn't look like much, but once he hung them on himself, he realized how heavy they were.

The backpack straps dug painfully into his shoulders, the snake-skin bag in his left hand rubbed against his knees, the wheels of the suitcase pulled by two fingers made a "rumbling" sound on the marble floor, and the heaviest suitcase in his right hand had no wheels, so it had to be dragged.

From the entrance of the complex to Building 3, a mere hundred meters away, he had to rest three times, sweat from his forehead dripping down his chin onto his shirt, leaving dark stains.

"Should've just hired a professional mover." He leaned against the unit door, panting, when his waist suddenly twisted, and the suitcase in his hand slipped and fell to the ground.

He instinctively reached to grab it, his whole body lunging forward—just then, the unit door clicked open a crack, the door panel bracing against his back, and a warm, soft hand caught his arm just in time.

"Careful!"

A faint scent of gardenias drifted over first, fresh and crisp, like a gardenia orchard after the rain.

Zhang Fan turned his head and locked eyes with a pair of smiling almond-shaped eyes.

The woman was wearing a beige loungewear set, her long hair loosely tied at the back of her head, a few stray strands clinging to her cheeks, with faint fine lines at the corners of her eyes; when she smiled, her eyes seemed to hold stars.

"Are you okay?" She helped him stand steady, her fingertips inadvertently brushing against his wrist, feeling warm.

"I'm fine, I'm fine, thank you..." Zhang Fan blushed, and just as he wanted to straighten up, a sharp pain shot through his waist, "Sss—"

"Did you sprain it?" The woman frowned, "I have some medicinal liquor for bruises at home, should I get you some?"

"No, no, that's too much trouble for you." He wanted to drag the suitcase into the elevator, but the moment he exerted force with his waist, it hurt, and cold sweat instantly broke out.

"Don't force it." The woman said, brooking no argument, and bent down to pick up the worn suitcase, "Which floor do you live on?"

"The 20th floor..."

"What a coincidence, I live on the 20th floor too." She pushed the suitcase into the elevator and pressed the button for 20, "I'll take it up for you, otherwise your waist will be swollen by tomorrow."

Zhang Fan was too embarrassed to decline again and could only follow closely behind.

In the elevator, he clearly saw a faint red mark on the woman's wrist as she held the suitcase handle, as if it had been constricted by something; it would be impossible to notice without looking closely.

Arriving at the door of 2002, his hand was shaking as he took out the keys.

With a "click," the door opened, and sunlight poured in like molten gold, flowing into a bright river across the floor.

Auntie Li hadn't lied to him; the cleaners had cleaned the place until it was spotless.

The light gray sofa cover was still wrapped in plastic, and on the solid wood dining table sat a bottle of lucky bamboo, its roots stretching out in the clear water.

"Your apartment has a better layout than mine, even though it gets the western sun." The woman helped him push the suitcase to the living room, her gaze sweeping over the river view outside the balcony, "But you can see the river."

"Found it through a friend, I got lucky." Zhang Fan winced while holding his waist, "I've really troubled you today... may I ask your name?"

"My name is Zhou Yurou, I live next door in 2001." She smiled, "You can just call me Sister Zhou. And you?"

"Zhang Fan." He scratched his head, "I just opened a small studio in the University City, just messing around."

"An independent studio? That's impressive!" Zhou Yurou's eyes lit up, "I used to want my own studio too, but later..." She didn't finish, turned, and walked towards the door, "Wait here, I'll get you the medicinal liquor."

Before Zhang Fan could refuse, she had already brought a blue and white porcelain bottle with the label worn off.

"This is medicinal liquor my dad concocted; it's very effective for sprains." She poured some into her palm and rubbed it warm, "If you don't mind, shall I rub it in for you?"

Zhang Fan's face turned red instantly, and he waved his hands hurriedly: "I can do it myself!" He took the bottle, his fingertips accidentally touching hers, and he recoiled as if electrocuted.

Zhou Yurou didn't mind and just smiled: "Then remember to apply it, don't let it become a chronic issue. I'm going back now, knock on my door if you need anything."

Watching her back disappear into the apartment opposite, Zhang Fan finally breathed a sigh of relief and limped over to the sofa.

He unscrewed the bottle cap, and a strong medicinal scent rushed out; applying it to his waist, the scorching pain was mixed with a hint of comfort.

By the time he finished, it was already evening, and the sunset had dyed the river surface a golden red.

He sprawled on the sofa, looking at this little nest that belonged to him—the balcony got sun all day, the bedroom bay window was covered with a soft cushion, and even the spatula in the kitchen was new.

A person who was in a dilapidated rental apartment half a month ago was now living in an apartment with a river view; the reversal of life was as fast as a dream.

"Singularity Technology, let's go!" He clenched his fists and opened the recruitment website.

The recruitment post he published yesterday had 22 views, but not a single reply.

He sighed and lowered the requirements: "Fresh graduates are welcome, basic skills are enough, salary negotiable," but he refreshed until his fingers were sore, and the page remained empty.

"Forget it, I'll just do it myself in the early stages." He comforted himself and opened the code editor, but after typing only a few lines, his gaze drifted outside the window.

"Boring." He turned off the computer, lay on the bed, and opened his phone, casually stumbling upon a melodramatic show—"The CEO's Contract Neighbor."

On the screen, the male lead pinned the female neighbor against the wall and forced a kiss, the background music so melodramatic it made one's ears ache.

Zhang Fan watched and laughed, thinking that the screenwriter must have never met a neighbor—who kisses right after meeting?

Laughing, his eyelids grew heavier and heavier.

He dreamed of Zhou Yurou helping him, and then dreamed of the kissing scene from the show; the images mixed together, leaving him flustered and agitated.

"Mmm..." He woke up with a start, his cheeks so hot they could fry an egg; looking down, he was so embarrassed he wanted to crawl into a crack in the ground—there was an indecent bulge in the middle of his quilt.

"What on earth am I thinking..." He patted his face, just as he was about to go wash it, a system notification popped up, the font a glaring red:

[daily intelligence system]

[Level: LV1]

[You can obtain 1 basic intelligence report for free daily; paid intelligence requires consuming intelligence points (Current balance: 18)]

[Intelligence for this volume: Help neighbor Zhou Yurou get a divorce and begin a new path of entrepreneurship.]

Zhang Fan's sleepiness instantly vanished.

After dealing with the system for some time, he had long since figured out its patterns: light blue was for daily trivial matters, like "supermarket egg discounts";

dark blue was usually for profitable information, like last time when he saved Li Lu's cat and earned 2 intelligence points;

and red was always for urgent, critical matters—last time when Tang Wanqing was attacked, the system popped up a red intelligence alert, and he received 10 points afterwards.

Red meant "must handle," and nine times out of ten, it had something to do with him.

But... "Intelligence for this volume"?

This was the first time the system had given such a prompt; could it be planning a serial drama?

Even more absurd was "Help Zhou Yurou get a divorce"—he had just met her, didn't even know if she was married, and the system wanted him to interfere in her family affairs?

Isn't this forcing him to be a homewrecker?

Zhang Fan scratched his head, his mind in a mess.

The absurd dream from just now hadn't even faded, and the system pushed this kind of intelligence; could this system actually read minds?