Come, Let Me Open a Door to a New World for You 

Half-asleep, half-awake, and a little drunk—this is the perfect time for memories to resurface, bringing back things that had long been forgotten. 

When Hu Xiu was a young girl, her living quarters could barely be called a bedroom. The double doors of her room opened on one side to her mother’s room and on the other to the main hall, with a left turn leading directly out of the house. 

When she was eighteen, her father, who had been absent for a long time, returned home one day. As he stepped through the door, her mother’s lover slipped out of her room like the wind, brushing past her father’s back. 

After that, her father never came back, not until the night she got engaged and moved her belongings into her new home. That night, he barged in with others, broke open the door, threw all of her mother’s belongings downstairs, and changed the locks, completing a revenge seven years in the making. 

When she and her fiancé rushed home, she could smell the air after the rain, and she could also hear the disgusted sighs of the people around her. 

The three of them stood before the dirty, discarded belongings. Her fiancé’s face was expressionless, but his words were curt, almost too crisp: 

“Well, given the situation, find somewhere else to stay. Our new home isn’t convenient for this. I’ll find a hotel for your mom first.” 

Not long after that, Hu Xiu was indeed left by her fiancé—just as she was nearing the end of her twenty-sixth year. 

Ever since, she often tried to console herself: sand that you can’t hold onto is better left scattered to the wind. But occasionally, she would still dream of standing on an empty lot in the rain, staring at the possessions she had once treasured. The happiness she had yearned for her entire life—she couldn’t tell if it had been destroyed by her father or ruined by her fiancé. 

Hu Xiu slouched lower in her seatbelt, feeling like sitting up straight might make her vomit. When she woke up, she was still bouncing along in the car. 

April 20, 2018, at twelve o’clock—she had just turned twenty-seven. She had celebrated by drinking with former colleagues, getting utterly drunk, and hailing a ride home. 

In the outskirts of Shanghai’s outskirts, there were no streetlights at night. After getting into a taxi at Xujing East, she raced alongside freight trucks on the highway for half an hour, then continued along narrow, rural roads that wound through fields, dove under bridges, and emerged into pitch darkness. The car’s headlights pushed a narrow beam of light forward, revealing farmland on both sides and a broken, desolate road ahead. Occasionally, there were cars coming from the opposite direction; when two cars passed each other, both would slow down, one wheel dipping onto the dirt shoulder as they carefully squeezed past. 

Beyond the outer ring road, there was no trace of the cosmopolitan charm or cyberpunk aesthetic of Shanghai. Gone were the dense high-rises that blocked every view. In the countryside, you could set off firecrackers, catch fish seedlings, and see scooters darting around at speeds faster than cars. In her daze, Hu Xiu felt as though she were in some Jiangsu-Zhejiang backwater. 

After downing a bottle of cheap white wine followed by another bottle of Jägermeister, Hu Xiu felt like she was on an extended roller coaster ride. Her stomach churned in wave after wave of nausea, refusing to let her settle back on solid ground. 

She forced herself to keep calm, folding her arms and staring straight ahead, rolling down the car window to stay alert—just in case the driver decided to take a detour into the woods with malicious intent. Soon enough, the ride became even more of a 4D roller coaster. 

Once inside her neighborhood, Hu Xiu finally relaxed, even feeling a bit proud. Living alone in a high-rise in the outskirts wasn’t impossible for a single woman—as long as she stayed composed, maintained a steady demeanor, and let out a deep cough now and then to make the driver think she wasn’t someone to mess with. 

“Where should I stop? Whoa, this place doesn’t even have streetlights. What a dump,” the driver commented. 

“Sir, drive into the basement. Follow my directions. Turn left, now right, go straight, stop! Turn left again. Do you see Building 18? You can stop there…” 

After giving these instructions, Hu Xiu felt even more satisfied with herself. She thought, Having my head full of wind is definitely better than having it full of water—I’m more clear-headed like this. I can even recite my building number. My alcohol tolerance has clearly grown with age; I’m a mature, independent woman now. But then she wondered—why had the security guard manually raised the gate to the parking garage? 

The car came to a stop. In the pitch-black basement, the driver suddenly spoke, “Young lady, living out here in the middle of nowhere, you really shouldn’t come back so late. It’s dangerous.” 

“Well, the apartments are spacious, and the rent is cheap.” 

“This place is way too remote—no lights at all. I wouldn’t live here even if it were free.” 

Ignoring his words as she got out of the car, Hu Xiu pulled out her phone to light her way. She hadn’t fully processed what he said. 

So dark? She noticed that the elevator indicator wasn’t lit. After pressing the button dozens of times without a response, she realized the power was out—not just in the elevator, but along the entire path she had walked. 

She lived on the 25th floor, and now she was on B2. 

Suppressing the waves of nausea churning in her stomach, she sat down on the floor to sleep. After all, there was no way she could climb up now; better to sober up before making the attempt. 

But within 15 minutes, her neck and back began to ache. Forget it. She felt sober enough—time to climb. 

She pushed herself to climb five floors in one go, but her legs gave out before her mind did. She ended up reflecting on every year of her life, from elementary school to university and even grad school, only to realize she was still only halfway there. 

She thought to herself, Maybe life really has been dull—that’s why even reminiscing is so short-lived… 

But no, she wasn’t going to let herself get defeated. Life is already terrible—so what if I have to climb stairs? Forget 25 floors; I’ll climb 250 if I have to! 

The next morning, when she woke up outside her apartment door, she finally pieced things together. She’d blacked out. Her memories cut off somewhere around first grade. 

As for how she’d managed to climb to her front door without going inside—it was because she had completely forgotten to bring her keys. 

Damn it! 

The power outage still wasn’t resolved, and her phone was dead. Now, in the throes of a hangover, she had to climb back down 25 floors, find a shopping center, borrow a power bank to charge her phone, and call a locksmith. 

There were always a few days each month when she longed for the convenience of living in the city. Today was one of those days—all the inconveniences had gathered in full force. 

Reeking of alcohol, with her head pounding as if it were about to explode, Hu Xiu felt like she was carrying a ticking methane tank on her shoulders. 

If she’d known she didn’t have her keys, she should’ve just slept in the parking garage last night. Her powered-off phone was as useful as a brick in her hand. Desperate, she walked three kilometers and found a broken-lock bike among the shared bicycles parked near a small road. Riding along the main road, she thought, As long as I can get to the metro, I can make it to a shopping center.

Halfway through the ride, she realized she had no money on her, so she couldn’t take the metro either. Being in the suburbs without a phone left her utterly stranded. 

Stopping by the roadside, starving and with her head buzzing from the cold wind, Hu Xiu thought of her last resort. She knew two places well in the suburbs—her own home and his place. 

After a 170-yuan cab ride from the far suburbs into the city, Hu Xiu thought to herself, If I’d known it would come to this, I should’ve gone to him from the start. 

As expected, when she got out of the cab, she saw Li Ai standing outside REGARD, smoking a cigarette. 

When Li Ai saw her disheveled hair and chaotic appearance, he immediately understood the situation. Without a word, he paid her cab fare. 

At that moment, Hu Xiu swore to herself that he was the most handsome coffee shop owner on Yuyuan Road—or no, in all of Shanghai. 

Even his slight limp as he walked didn’t detract from his charm. If anything, it made him seem more intriguing, making people wonder about the story behind such a man. 

She had once declared that she wouldn’t spend her life striving for anyone else’s sake. But if Li Ai ever couldn’t pay his rent, she would sell her last pot, borrow money at high interest, or even venture into the nightlife scene to help him out. 

The café was simply decorated. There were six high stools in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows and the counter, with a guitar and a folding bike placed in the middle. Opposite the counter were four four-person tables, separated by a bookshelf filled with business and foreign-language novels. The left side of the café was furnished with light-colored peachwood, while the right side had all-black tables and chairs. The wall they leaned against was Tiffany blue, with no other decorations. Li Ai always said, “The best decoration is the customers themselves.” 

REGARD was like many other cafés on Yuyuan Road—youthful, minimalist, and creative. Just as Li Ai insisted on not using a cane, he avoided anything that might make him seem burdened. 

Sitting on a stool, Hu Xiu’s legs were still trembling. Li Ai placed a plate of spaghetti and an iced bock beer in front of her. Noticing her shaky legs, he laughed. “Did you run a marathon this morning?” 

“No, just climbed nearly sixty floors and biked five kilometers… The power went out in my neighborhood.” 

“You really need to move back into the city. I’ve heard you complain about the property management at least five times now—about power outages, getting stuck in elevators, being far from the metro. It’s not safe for a girl to live there alone.” 

“But the rent is cheap. Also… I didn’t make any income this month.” 

“How long are you planning to stay unemployed?” 

“I’m not unemployed. I’m freelancing—writing live-stream scripts. Do you know about live-streaming? It’s all the rage now for selling products.” 

“You gave up being a translator at major conferences for this? What a waste of talent.” 

“It’s fine. The real issue is they’re slow to pay. If I can’t cover rent this month, I’ll sell some gaming equipment.” 

When someone walked into the café, Hu Xiu moved to a high stool with her plate, freeing up the four-person table. “Go take care of your business; don’t worry about me.” 

“If you’re short on cash, I can help.” 

“No need. I’m perfectly self-sufficient.” Hu Xiu smirked and motioned to his limp. “You should focus on taking care of yourself.” 

Li Ai glanced at his watch. “Zhao Xiaorou is probably about to arrive.” 

Without even lifting her head, Hu Xiu replied, “Yup. Today’s the day her time-out ends.” 

When Zhao Xiaorou pushed the door open, she wasn’t in a great mood. She had bought a group-buy voucher for a hydrating facial treatment earlier today, and it turned out to be a terrible idea. 

She had to deal with a nosy beautician who kept commenting that her facial acupuncture points seemed blocked, or worse, asking if her nose was fake. It was like being interrogated by an auntie in a northeastern bathhouse asking, “Girl, is your face even touchable?” 

Yes, her cheekbones and temples were enhanced with fillers, and her scalp did have cartilage tucked away for future nose revision surgery. So what? 

Besides, her prosthetic nose bridge looked completely natural—low and subtle. Her fillers were done conservatively, and her double eyelid surgery was just a narrow crease. She looked more natural than the Korean plastic surgery template Kang Yoon-jin. If she stepped out of the clinic and snapped a few selfies, she could rack up thousands of likes and comments on Xiaohongshu in no time. 

Why should she tolerate a gossiping masseuse? Even her husband hadn’t noticed anything! 

When she sat down and saw the disheveled mess that was Hu Xiu, she instinctively leaned back a little. “Oh my god, did you just crawl out of a dumpster?” 

After listening to Hu Xiu’s absurd recount of the night, she sipped the Baileys latte Li Ai had prepared for her and teased with slow deliberation, “Not the least bit surprised. Living in that dump of an apartment, you totally deserved this kind of suffering.” 

“Zhao Xiaorou, you’re too harsh on me.” 

“Living in the suburbs, scraping by on freelancer gigs with perpetually delayed payments—how can you live so miserably?” 

Watching Hu Xiu press her lips against her cup without saying a word, she continued, exasperated, “A year ago, you were still a high-profile conference interpreter. Then you quit your job for a man, and after becoming single again, you’ve been wallowing for 365 days. Isn’t it about time to move on?” 

“I... I’m trying my best to pull myself together…” 

“Move back to the city, get a proper job. That lousy man who left you isn’t worth reminiscing about. 

Being single is such a blessing. I’m dying to get divorced. Wang Guangming is pure trash. He leeches off my popularity, uses my Weibo account to funnel traffic to himself—shameless.” 

Noticing the café was now empty, Zhao Xiaorou didn’t bother holding back, even with Li Ai washing cups in earshot. “If I could do it all over again, I’d never marry Wang Guangming. I’d stay single forever and marry Li Ai instead.” 

“Stop joking,” Li Ai said softly. His light brown sweater looked exceptionally warm under the soft lighting, with tiny fibers visible around the neckline. His hair was overdue for a cut. 

“Forget it, let’s drop it. Hu Xiu, since you’re free anyway, come with me to a murder mystery game. 

I don’t want to go home and see Wang Guangming. If he’s not nagging me about bills, he’s droning on about assets. I’m just a regular influencer; why is he always trying to force me into his grand plans? Let’s go. Let’s mess with the NPCs.” 

“What murder mystery…” Hu Xiu, of course, knew what NPCs were. She was, after all, a translator and a gamer. But Zhao Xiaorou, with her know-it-all personality, couldn’t resist explaining it anyway. 

“NPCs are Non-Player Characters—they’re not controlled by players, but they can trigger storylines. In murder mystery games, they’re the actors. 

You’ve watched so many seasons of Who’s the Murderer, haven’t you? Nowadays, murder mystery NPCs are all young, handsome guys. Interact with them, role-play, take on quests—it’s visually delightful.” 

Before finishing her explanation, Zhao Xiaorou pulled out her phone and started tapping away excitedly. “I’ve been playing some awful scripts recently and need something fresh. Last time, I played a horror script, and the NPC who was supposed to ‘hang himself’ didn’t even know how to act. 

He tied a pair of pants to the window. I thought someone had hung out wet laundry to dry. 

There’s a Snowpiercer-themed script with only two spots left. Let’s play—are you coming?” 

“No. I don’t have money. Also, isn’t ogling handsome NPCs a bit undignified at our age?” 

“You’re only twenty-seven, and you act like you’re halfway to the grave. Did your ex-fiancé beat patriarchal values into you? Fine, I’ll pay for you. The session starts at 6:30; we need to get moving.” 

Hu Xiu was an unemployed wanderer. Zhao Xiaorou was a mid-tier influencer making tens of thousands a month. Both seemed to have time to spare, but their incomes were worlds apart. 

At a lifestyle plaza near the train station, Zhao Xiaorou strutted confidently to the basement-level venue while Hu Xiu trailed behind her, slouching dejectedly. 

In the dressing room, Hu Xiu casually grabbed a character pack: a Japanese role. She draped a kimono over herself and clipped on a name tag labeled Fusako, then waited as Zhao Xiaorou straightened her hair with a flat iron. 

Watching Zhao Xiaorou genuinely enjoying herself, Hu Xiu felt a twinge of envy. In her repetitive and dreary life, she hadn’t felt that kind of spark in a long time. The ticket cost 500 yuan, and she had no idea how she’d endure three and a half hours in this immersive theater. 

Just as she finished a final sip of water in the locker room, a young man emerged wearing a white shirt, with a suit jacket draped over his arm. 

His voice was deep and magnetic, resonating throughout the basement: “It’s getting late. I’m Qin Xiaoyi, finance minister of Rongcheng. Thank you for waiting. Bring your invitations and enter Rongcheng, everyone. Please.” 

Hu Xiu froze in place as if struck by lightning—this guy was way too handsome!