Good afternoon, Xiangzhou!
Chen Dao raised his arms high. After enduring a few seconds of bystanders’ “are-you-kidding-me” stares, he quickly pulled out his phone and snapped a photo of Xiangzhou Railway Station as it stood before renovation.
The travel fare? Sponsored by the little rich girl. The souvenirs? Also her. Even the budget for local specialties to bring back? All on her dime.
Yet he felt not a trace of relief.
Only guilt and unease.
After all, who borrows money from a seventeen-year-old high school girl—let alone a guy nearly thirty like him?
No choice. His monthly allowance barely covered instant noodles, not to mention what he kept spending on Bai Qiaoqiao.
Still, things were better now. Prices were kinder, deals everywhere—and plenty of coupons to snag.
He wasn’t reckless with his health, either. Simple truth: out of sight, out of mind. No video calls.
Chen’s dad and Hong’s mom had zero clue what their love-struck fool of a son had been up to in Xinchi.
Without last week’s sudden class skip, they’d still believe he was the obedient boy rising at dawn and studying till dusk.
But Chen Dao? Bold. He’d do it again in a heartbeat.
Since Xia Jiuli didn’t know yet, he’d frame it as a task from Gu Lian.
*Damn it. Using the little rich girl’s cash to visit a friend? I’m trash.*
A faint smile tugged his lips as he chuckled at himself, then turned toward a car parked nearby.
Taxis were still common back then—unlike the future, where they’d vanish. Chen Dao glanced left, right, and locked onto a yellow cab.
“Driver, Xiangzhou Experimental School?”
He gently tapped the window. After a beat, it rolled down.
“Obviously.”
The driver sized him up: fresh-off-the-bus tourist, audacious request. His expression soured instantly.
“How about taking the Ring Road? Skip all other routes.”
“That’s the longest one.”
Forty-two, over ten years behind the wheel—and never had he met a passenger who *voluntarily* chose the scenic (expensive) route.
*Think my meter’s broken?*
*Who actually *wants* to get ripped off?*
“You taking me or not?”
“Sure. Why not? Who’s incapable here?”
He unlocked the rear door, face dripping with disdain for this lamb to the slaughter.
*Another out-of-towner. Visiting family or running errands. Seen it all.*
“Xiangzhou Experimental. Ring Road all the way.”
Chen Dao knew the city. Beautified, widened—but street names unchanged. Purely practical: save money.
The school and station were only 300 meters apart, but a pedestrian street blocked cars (bikes slipped through).
Longjing Road was the closest route—usually jammed. Last life, he’d sat trapped over an hour. No thanks.
Five minutes later, he eased onto the Ring Road. 5 p.m. Traffic? Nearly empty.
Yet the driver crawled like a snail.
Chen Dao wasn’t falling for that trick. The moment they entered the Ring Road, he ran a hand over the worn seatback and said slowly:
“This old ride’s seen some years, huh?”
Scuffs under the driver’s seat, frayed edges everywhere.
“This old buddy’s been with me ten years.”
“Heard if your car breaks down on duty, you pay out of pocket?”
“Y-yeah… why?”
“Makes sense you’d drive carefully. No rush. Someday I’ll take you to Chongqing—experience *real* push-back acceleration—”
*Whizz!*
Scenery blurred. Streetlights streaked backward. Afterimages flashed.
The driver’s face flushed crimson. *That jab cuts deeper than “Can’t afford it? Just say so!”*
Who do you think you’re mocking?! Even local gangs wouldn’t be this snide!
Fifteen minutes later—half the expected time—the trip ended under the driver’s furious, red-faced glare.
Chen Dao gave a thumbs-up. Also earned a wave of overwhelming nausea and dizziness.
*Good grief… Xiangzhou drivers don’t play.*
Legs trembling, he staggered toward Xiangzhou Experimental’s gate—but veered toward the shopping street, then under a historic archway.
Too bad. Under renovation.
Missed the photo op. Instead, he posed beside the missing person poster at the entrance: Xia Jiuli, Class 4, Grade 11, Changli High School.
Honestly? Even in that stiff ID photo, she was photogenic. Only the mysteriously tilted head—slightly left—added a comical touch.
Chen Dao stood left of the poster, his head aligning with her crooked black-and-white portrait.
He snapped it. Then tore the poster down. And every other one he saw.
The street was quiet. Per Xia Jiuli, it only buzzed after 7 p.m. Still pre-business hours.
He walked, camera clicking, until it landed on a foot massage parlor: “Shuiyunjian.”
*How is this near a school? So vulgar!*
He stepped in. Price check: full service 658 yuan, 20% off next time.
Exited with the receptionist’s number and a preserved plum candy—*accidentally*.
On the curb, he pulled up a map. *Any other morally questionable spots nearby?*
*Must condemn them fiercely!*
“Help! Robbery!”
A shrill scream froze Chen Dao mid-step outside Shuiyunjian.
First: a man standing on bike pedals, pedaling wildly. A purple handbag tied to the handlebars.
Then: an elegant woman in a black-and-white qipao, clutching two roujiamo buns, hot on his heels—
Clearly snatched while buying snacks at the corner.
And heading straight for Chen Dao. The street exit? A hundred meters behind him.
*Those buns on her chest rival the roujiamo in her hands…*
Chen Dao lifted his leg—and kicked the moment the thief passed.
