5: Chapter 5 Guests Moving Luggage

The three strands of black smoke were still rising on the screen.

Li Li closed TikTok, shoved his phone back into his pocket, and stood on the office building steps, chewing the last bite of shredded beef.

The savory flavor faded, and the fine blue lines on the inside of his left wrist twitched.

[Main Mission Countdown: 23 hours 09 minutes.]

Twenty-three hours.

He glanced at the crooked copper-plated "Design" character above the building entrance and turned to leave.

Without looking back.

He did three things on the way back to his rental apartment.

Bank account balance: 4,327. After deducting rent and travel expenses, 1,477 remained.

Consistently poor.

He dragged the suitcase with the broken wheel out from under the bed and stuffed in two changes of clothes, a toothbrush, and a charger.

He set an alarm for 5:00 AM, choosing the most piercing ringtone available.

All the preparations for the first day of time travel were finished in fifteen minutes.

He lay back down on the sofa, which still smelled of Erguotou, and stared at the water stains on the ceiling.

His phone lit up.

WeChat. The contact name: Tang Tang.

Three messages. Two question marks, one emoji, zero sincerity.

Li Li rested his thumb on the screen.

He paused for a second.

He pressed the lock screen.

Closed his eyes. He went to sleep.

— —

When the alarm blasted, it was pitch black outside the window.

Li Li sprang up from the sofa, moving even more nimbly than he had when delivering food during the morning rush in his past life.

He washed his face, brushed his teeth, and changed into the only black long-sleeved shirt in the original owner's closet that wasn't pilling.

He grabbed the collar and took a sniff—scent of laundry detergent, good enough.

Before leaving with his suitcase, he took one last look at the rental apartment.

Empty liquor bottles, instant noodle cups, and crooked architectural drawings on the wall.

A place where a dead man had lived.

The door closed, and the latch clicked into the frame.

6:43 AM, T3 Terminal.

The horizon was turning white. Under the glass dome, the lights were bright, and there were few travelers.

The location sent by Director Pei Zhao: Third floor, exclusive VIP Hall.

Li Li carried his broken suitcase onto the escalator. The front left wheel was crooked, clattering against the marble floor with a rhythm like a limping leg.

At the end of the third-floor corridor were two frosted glass doors. At the entrance stood three staff members in black polo shirts, wearing "Dating in Travel" name tags on their chests.

A young man wearing a headset walked up to him.

"Hello, may I ask if you are..."

"Li Li."

The young man looked down and flipped through the list twice.

"Hmm... the non-celebrity male guest, right?"

He enunciated the word "non-celebrity" very clearly.

Li Li nodded.

"Follow me. We need to go to the Production Team room to go over the procedures first."

The temporary office was next to the VIP Hall. Four or five producers were typing away on laptops. In the corner, two monitors displayed a six-grid split screen, with one grid focused on the interior of the VIP Hall.

A cameraman carrying a Sony FX6 stood up from his chair.

"I'm your dedicated cameraman. My surname is Zhou, just call me Old Zhou."

He was twenty-five or twenty-six, yet he was called "Old Zhou."

This industry ages people.

"I'll be filming you the whole time, except when you eat or go to the restroom. Just act naturally, don't look at the camera on purpose." Old Zhou patted the machine on his shoulder. "Let me know if you need anything."

Li Li glanced at the FX6.

"How much does this machine weigh?"

"With the lens and battery, about six kilograms."

"Thank you for your hard work."

Old Zhou was stunned for a moment.

In all his years on set, this was the first time a guest had said that to him.

After going over the procedures, Li Li pushed the door open and walked toward the VIP Hall.

The corridor was about thirty meters long. He had only taken seven or eight steps when the sound of wheels grinding on the floor came from the corner ahead.

A person turned the corner, pushing two large suitcases.

A baseball cap was pulled low, and a black face mask covered most of their face.

An oversized off-white hoodie, black sweatpants, and a pair of distressed canvas shoes.

They were bundled up tightly. But pushing a 28-inch hard-shell suitcase with each hand, their stride wasn't quite as graceful.

Especially the one in the left hand. The front right wheel was crooked, jamming every time it turned.

Clack—clack—clack.

Li Li's judgment was triggered, an intuition honed on construction sites in his past life.

This wheel wouldn't last ten steps.

Five steps. Clack.

Eight steps. Clack-clack.

The ninth step—

Snap.

The connecting rod broke.

The 28-inch hard-shell suitcase lost support and slammed to the right. One hand couldn't hold it, and the case hit the marble floor, the zipper bursting open—clothes spilled out, a makeup bag did a somersault and rolled to the base of the wall, and a pair of high heels stood alone in the middle of the corridor with their heels pointing toward the ceiling.

The young woman squatted down to pick things up, her other hand still holding the good suitcase on the right, flustered. Her baseball cap tilted slightly, revealing a strand of black hair behind her ear.

Li Li looked back.

At the other end of the corridor, a short-haired girl holding two cups of coffee had already taken half a step forward. But the woman next to her, wearing a ponytail and a gray suit, reached out and grabbed her.

She lowered her voice and said something.

The short-haired girl pulled her foot back.

On the side of the corridor, the Production Team's camera was set up, the red light on, the lens aimed at the person squatting on the ground.

No one stepped forward.

The machine was recording, and people were watching.

Li Li withdrew his gaze.

He had seen this routine many times. When someone fell on a construction site, the supervisor's first reaction wasn't to call for help, but to check if the camera had captured a blind spot.

He walked over and squatted down.

"Let me help you."

The girl looked up. She glanced at him from under the brim of her hat, very quickly.

"...Thanks."

Crisp and direct.

Li Li bent down, gathered the scattered clothes, folded them twice, and stuffed them back into the suitcase. He handed the makeup bag back. He straightened the high heels and tucked them into the corner.

His movements were fast, practiced, and without hesitation.

The efficiency of a construction worker packing things up was something office workers couldn't match even with a whip.

The suitcase was closed, and the zipper pulled all the way. The broken wheel couldn't be fixed.

"Where are you going?" Li Li stood up and clapped his hands.

The girl stood up. She wasn't short, visually estimated at over 1.68 meters. The neckline of her hoodie hung loosely around her collarbone, and she pushed her baseball cap back into place.

"The Production Team's room." She pointed to the front of the corridor. "Could you please help me push this over? The wheel is broken and I can't move it."

Her tone was natural, without hesitation.

A standard "directing a staff member" tone.

Li Li looked down at himself—black long sleeves, no logo, no name tag, dragging a broken suitcase.

It was no wonder she mistook him for someone else.

He lifted the broken-wheeled suitcase with one hand.

Heavy. It was really heavy. At least thirty pounds. What was inside—dumbbells?

He pulled his own suitcase with his other hand, one on the left and one on the right, and walked forward.

The girl pushed the remaining good suitcase beside him, not saying a word the whole time.

They arrived at the door. The girl pushed the door open and went in. The door closed.

Li Li placed the broken-wheeled suitcase against the wall and stood outside the door.

Old Zhou, carrying the camera, had followed them at some point, the camera never turning off.

"That part just now was pretty good." Old Zhou lowered his voice.

"What?"

"The part where you helped. Very natural."

"It wasn't acting, to begin with."

Old Zhou didn't say anything else.

Three minutes later, the door opened.

The girl came out. She had changed the way she wore her baseball cap, tilting the brim back a bit, revealing more of her forehead and brow bone. She was still wearing the mask.

She glanced at Li Li, then at the broken-wheeled suitcase against the wall.

"You're still here?"

"Yeah."

"...Could you help me move it to the VIP Hall? It's not far ahead."

Li Li picked up the suitcase.

Thirty pounds without wheels, carrying it as he walked. His forearm muscles tightened, and his knuckles pressed against the handle.

It was fine. In his past life, he used to carry 100-catty bags of cement on construction sites; this was light.

Ten or so meters, and they arrived.

"Here we are. Thanks, I can handle the rest myself."

She reached out to take it.

"No need."

"Hmm?"

"I'm going in too."

The girl's hand hung in mid-air.

"Are you also a staff member?"

"No."

Li Li pulled his phone out of his pocket, the screen lighting up—the guest confirmation text sent by the Production Team.

"I'm a guest too."

Under the brim of her hat, she froze for about a second.

"...You helped me move it the whole way just now."

"Yeah."

"I thought you were the one who carries luggage."

"That's not wrong either." Li Li patted his own clattering broken suitcase. "I am indeed carrying luggage. Carrying my own, and yours along the way."

The girl stared at him for two seconds.

Above the mask, her eyes curved.

She didn't say anything else, turned around, and pushed the door open.

The moment the door opened, the sound from inside leaked out—

"—So I think the placement of this sofa is problematic. If I sit in the C-position, the camera will make my face look big, but if I sit on the side, it makes me look not social enough..."

Another lazy voice with a Sichuan-Chongqing accent cut in.

"Shut up, who wants to hear you analyze this?"

Li Li stood at the door.

The lights in the VIP Hall were bright white. On the wall-mounted screen, the TikTok live stream was being pushed in real-time, and the comments were already scrolling by.

[??? What the hell was up with the first person who came in, looked around, and ran away, hahaha]

[Wait wait wait, the second guy is so handsome, his bare face is killing me]

[How many people are actually on this show? Why are there only two?]

Hundreds of thousands of people were watching.

He lifted his foot and stepped over the threshold.

On the sofa, a 1.87-meter tall guy was gesturing at the camera angle, comma bangs resting on his forehead. Catching a glimpse of the doorway, his arm froze.

In the corner, a young man with a buzz cut paused his game. A half-dragon tattoo was on the side of his neck, the color still fresh. He looked up and flicked the cigarette butt tucked behind his ear.

Two gazes locked onto him simultaneously.

It was quiet for a second and a half.

Then the big guy spoke, his voice three times louder than when he was analyzing the C-position—

"Holy shit, another handsome one?! Does this show not recruit ugly people?!"

The young man with the buzz cut didn't move. His gaze slid from Li Li's face to the broken suitcase in his hand, then back again.

"This suitcase of yours doesn't really match you."

Li Li leaned the broken suitcase against the wall.

He rotated his left wrist.

"Whether it matches or not isn't important." He scanned the VIP Hall—the sofa, the lights, the camera positions, the scrolling comments on the screen, and the girl at the door who hadn't taken off her mask yet.

"What's important is, how many people are still missing?"