22: Chapter 22 Our Own Street Scoundrels

The silhouette of that gray destroyer sank from the reflection in the floor-to-ceiling window, disappearing beneath the ink-blue waters of the Persian Gulf.

"2005, we have arrived."

The butler pushed open the gold-plated door, his white-gloved movements as light as if he were defusing a bomb.

The door opened.

Li Li stood at the doorway, his legs unmoving.

It wasn't that he didn't want to enter; it was that his CPU, polished by nine-point-nine yuan takeout and construction site cement, was currently throwing frantic error messages, on the verge of burning out.

Three hundred fifty-five square meters.

The three partitioned rooms he had rented in his past life while working three jobs combined for a total area of less than thirty square meters.

The marble floor was smooth enough to reflect the loose threads on his old T-shirt. A spiral staircase wound upwards, leading to a second floor he had never imagined.

To the left was the sea, and to the right was the city skyline of Dubai, with the Burj Khalifa piercing the distance like a needle.

The butler stood to the side, gesturing elegantly with his white-gloved hand: "Sir, Madam, welcome to your stay. Everything in the room incurs no extra charge. If you have any needs, we will replenish them immediately."

The last sentence hit Li Li's "poor person" nerve with the precision of a bullet.

The first thought that subconsciously flashed through his mind was: How many bottles of free cola are in the minibar?

But he held back.

The camera on his collar was still flashing a red light; nine million people were watching him through this tiny aperture.

If he rushed over to raid the fridge, tomorrow's trending topic wouldn't be #AmateurHardcoreSavesTheWholeTeam#, but rather #HamsterReincarnatedMaleGuestRaidsBurjAlArab#.

Jiang Rumu dragged her small suitcase inside first, her high heels clicking crisply against the marble floor.

She walked straight to the floor-to-ceiling window and stood still.

Then, she turned back to look at him.

She said nothing.

The night view of the Persian Gulf outside the window served as her backdrop. The light from the hotel's dome spilled down over her, and the air conditioning breeze lifted a strand of black hair, letting it rest gently against her slender collarbone.

In Li Li's livestream room, the comments froze for half a second before exploding completely.

[Damn, I'll remember this look back for a lifetime!]

[This damn atmosphere! What kind of god-tier idol drama composition is this!]

[A top-tier celebrity with thirty million followers looking back at an amateur with a tattered backpack at the Burj Al Arab—I'm going crazy, I'll start shipping this CP first!]

The butler led the two of them up to the living room on the second floor.

On the coffee table in front of the circular sofa sat a fruit platter and an exquisite Arabic dessert tower.

"This is the date tower, this is Kunafa, and over here is—"

"Baklava." Li Li blurted out.

The butler paused in surprise: "Does the gentleman also like Middle Eastern desserts?"

"I had some on the plane, just one serving, not enough."

"I can have the kitchen send another serving up."

"Two servings."

Just as Li Li finished speaking, Jiang Rumu, who was beside him, glanced at him.

He immediately corrected himself: "Three servings."

The butler's eyebrows twitched almost imperceptibly, but his excellent professional training allowed him to maintain a smile: "Very well, sir. Three servings of Baklava, to be delivered shortly."

The butler withdrew, and the door closed silently.

In the space of over three hundred square meters, only the two of them remained.

Two livestreaming devices were set up on either side of the coffee table, their red lights blinking like two tireless eyes.

Li Li sat down on the left side of the sofa, and Jiang Rumu on the right, with a distance of 1.2 meters between them.

A distance that could be called "socially safe" in a Dating Reality Show.

Li Li picked up a date and shoved it into his mouth; the cloying sweetness rushed to the top of his head. He chewed expressionlessly, while his mind rapidly replayed the route map and timing points from their electric scooter escape.

Jiang Rumu picked up a purple grape, didn't eat it, but twirled it between her fingertips, slowly rotating it under the light.

The muffled sound of waves hitting the base of the building came in from outside the window, one beat, then another.

Li Li picked up another date.

Jiang Rumu put down the grape, used a small silver fork to take a small piece of Kunafa, took one bite, and put it back on the plate, seemingly just to confirm its taste.

In the livestream room, millions of viewers watched the scene, which was comparable to a silent film, and the comments were so anxious they were practically on fire.

[Say something! Please, just say something!]

[Did I spend my data plan just to watch you perform a mukbang at the Burj Al Arab?]

[This atmosphere is more awkward than my first blind date—one is eating for their life, the other is spacing out for their life.]

[You two lovers who just escaped from the fires of war, how did you become strangers as soon as you entered the hotel? Mumu, what happened to the strength you had when you hugged his waist?!]

Li Li spat the date pit onto the plate and finally spoke.

"How about—"

Jiang Rumu's gaze shifted from the piece of Kunafa to him.

"We go back to our rooms and get some sleep," Li Li said concisely. "We'll talk when we wake up."

This was probably the most anti-trope proposal in the history of Dating Reality Shows.

Jiang Rumu's fingers paused on the edge of the plate.

"Okay."

One word, crisp and decisive.

Li Li stood up and turned the lenses of the two livestreaming devices toward the sea view outside the floor-to-ceiling window and the fruit platter on the coffee table.

Twenty-four-hour live broadcast of the empty sea view—watch it or don't.

He picked up that bulging backpack and walked toward the bedroom on the left. Jiang Rumu also dragged her suitcase toward the right.

At the corner of the spiral staircase, the two passed each other.

Jiang Rumu stopped.

"Call me when the Baklava arrives."

Li Li turned back: "Didn't you say you don't like sweets?"

"Who said that?"

She dragged her suitcase away, and the bedroom door closed with a "click."

Li Li looked at that door, the corner of his mouth twitching almost imperceptibly.

He turned and entered his own room, threw his backpack, kicked off his shoes, and threw himself onto that bed, which looked expensive.

A cloud; this was the feeling of sinking into a cloud.

The hard wooden bed at the construction site in his past life—if he turned over, the springs could pierce his ribs.

This bed made even his lumbar spine emit a satisfied creak.

Don't panic, basic operation.

He didn't close his eyes; he waited for three minutes, tossing and turning like a pancake on the bed, confirming that there was absolutely no sound from next door.

He sat up abruptly and pulled the palm-sized remote terminal from the inner compartment of his backpack.

The "War Correspondent Kit" rewarded by the system—using this thing to film a Dating Reality Show date is like using an intercontinental missile to swat a mosquito.

But right now, it was perfect.

He pushed open the window, and the salty sea breeze, mixed with the acrid smell of gunpowder smoke from the distance, rushed into his face.

Drone No. 1 popped silently out of the side pocket of his backpack, its four rotors unfolding. It emitted a very faint hum, like a black beetle, and instantly darted into the night.

The terminal screen lit up, and the FPV first-person view footage was transmitted back in real-time.

The white shell of the Burj Al Arab receded beneath the lens, and ahead lay the pitch-black Persian Gulf, with moonlight shattering into silver scales on the wave crests.

One kilometer, five kilometers, eight kilometers... the signal strength was at full bars, not budging at all.

Fifteen kilometers away.

A slender, sharp, gray silhouette emerged from the darkness.

It was the bow, a stealth design.

Li Li's fingers paused on the remote control, lowering the altitude and slowing down.

At a distance of one kilometer, he couldn't get any closer; any closer and he would be treated as a target by their close-in weapon system.

But it was enough.

Under the moonlight, the hull number on the side of the bow was incredibly clear—110.

In Li Li's mind, the database he had soaked up on the Lu Bian She military forum in his past life automatically popped up: Type 055 ten-thousand-ton destroyer, Anqing.

Full load displacement of 12,500 tons, 112 vertical launch cells, dual-band radar.

Strolling so brazenly through the Persian Gulf, it was like a local street loiterer in one's own backyard.

Li Li's tense back finally leaned against the cold window frame.

The string that had been taut for nearly ten hours since the airport alarm sounded finally relaxed at this moment.

It's our own. It's right here.

He controlled the drone to turn around and return the way it came. Retrieving the drone, turning off the terminal, closing the window.

When he lay back down on the bed, that mattress truly felt like a cloud.

This time, he fell asleep.

---

In the living room, the two livestreaming devices faithfully faced the floor-to-ceiling window and the fruit platter.

The number of online viewers in Li Li's livestream room dropped from a peak of over nine million to 2.2 million.

The comments were sparse, all from people leaving the stream running in the background.

[They actually fell asleep...]

[Not gonna lie, the empty sea view from the Burj Al Arab is actually quite hypnotic.]

[Wait... did you guys hear something?]

Hum—

A low, vibrating sound came from the screen; it wasn't the air conditioning, nor was it the waves; the frequency was higher and denser.

Like a giant bee.

[What sound?!]

[A drone? How could there be a drone in the Burj Al Arab?]

The humming sound suddenly grew louder.

The next second—outside the floor-to-ceiling window, a black silhouette with the outline of four rotors flashed by!

The 2.2 million viewers who were dozing off instantly woke up!

[Holy crap! Something just flew by! Did you see that?!]

[It's a drone! It really is a drone! Whose is it?!]

[It's not an attack drone, right? Streamer, run!]

[This shape doesn't look like an attack drone... it looks more like a reconnaissance type! Who is scouting the Burj Al Arab?!]

The comments instantly went from a few lines to a waterfall.

The number of online viewers started to jump back crazily: 2.8 million, 3.4 million, 4 million!

No one knew the answer.

In the left bedroom, Li Li turned over, his breathing steady.

---

Beijing. A certain high-end apartment.

6:17 PM.

Su Wantang sat in front of her vanity, the white light of her laptop illuminating her face.

An A4 sheet of paper was spread out on the table, with the title "Reuniting with Li Li · Easy Route v1.0".

The first line below read: "Accept an interview as his former girlfriend, expressing longing and regret."

Her foxy eyes stared at Li Li's TikTok profile on the screen; the number in the follower count column had just jumped to 1.87 million.

Less than a million away from catching up to her.

In the comments section, it was all "Brother Li is awesome," "Was this man a special forces king in his past life?" and "Jiang Rumu has such good taste."

Su Wantang smiled.

A poor kid from an orphanage, previously held firmly in her grasp. Now he's turned things around? Perfect, he's even more valuable.

Trying to latch onto Jiang Rumu, who has thirty million followers, is too tiring, but picking up a viral ex-boyfriend is like a pie falling from the sky.

Just as she was about to write the second step of her plan, her phone buzzed.

A Weibo trending topic notification popped up.

** #UnidentifiedDroneAppearsOutsideBurjAlArabWindow# **

Followed by a purple-red "Explosive" tag.

Su Wantang clicked on the topic; the pinned post was the four-second video from Li Li's livestream room.

The top-liked comment in the comments section had eighty thousand likes.

"No matter whose drone this is, the window it flew past is Li Li's room."

Su Wantang's thumb hovered over the screen.

She picked up the A4 paper on the table, glanced at the plan she had written, and then picked up a pen and, without hesitation, drew a big cross over the entire sheet.

She opened a brand new document and, in the title bar, typed four characters word by word:

"I want to go home."