Chapter 22

Knocking on Zhao Xiaorou’s door, what I saw was Ning Zechen

Hu Xiu still couldn’t understand how Zhao Xiaorou got Ning Zechen’s WeChat. In the Snowpiercer scenario, the cameras were everywhere (though there was no monitoring where the zombies were). The scene controllers had to keep an eye on the internal environment, but Ning Zechen still wrote his number on Zhao Xiaorou’s palm. This intimate action was caught on camera—how could Ning Zechen not have his salary docked by two thousand?

After work, around 7:30 PM, Hu Xiu took the subway, ready to hear how Zhao Xiaorou had been flirting with Ning Zechen on WeChat for the past week. When she knocked on Zhao Xiaorou’s door with cake and milk tea, what she saw was—

Ning Zechen, wearing a white T-shirt and gray shorts, chewing on some salad he hadn’t finished.

Especially the way his body beneath the white T-shirt was fully exposed. Both wore white T-shirts, but while Qin Xiaoyi exuded a fresh youthful vibe, Ning Zechen radiated sexiness, vitality, and energy.

Especially when he turned around with a silly grin, Hu Xiu completely believed this fool hadn’t taken her as an outsider and had been spending several days with Zhao Xiaorou.

He turned around, looked her over, and laughed brightly, without a clue: “I thought you were dressing like that to catch the attention of Diao Zhi Yu, but it turns out you’re really like that.”

Upon hearing the name “Diao Zhiyu,” Hu Xiu blushed. She was wearing a brown plaid light suit, black skinny trousers, which had a stain on them from rubbing against something on the subway, making her look somewhat worn out.

A voice came from the bathroom: “It’s completely normal to wear formal clothes to the hospital. And don’t underestimate her old-fashioned clothes. Her suit cost over two thousand yuan. She’s willing to spend money on herself.”

“But she’s not my type. I prefer you,” Ning Zechen replied smoothly, sounding more like a family member than Wang Guangming.

He casually returned to the sofa, sitting with his legs wide apart, chewing a large bite of his waffle and popping it into his mouth, his cheeks puffing up like a hamster’s. He swallowed it in a few bites, then chugged soda down his throat with loud gulps, making Hu Xiu stare at him in shock.

What was even more shocking was the sight of Zhao Xiaorou—fresh from the shower, wearing a silk nightgown that revealed her shoulder and long legs, looking beautiful like a movie star.

Most importantly, she exuded the aura of a blooming lotus. Instead of sitting properly, she stretched lazily by the window, then turned around and plopped onto Ning Zechen’s lap: “Feed me...”

“How about what’s in my mouth?” Ning Zechen teased.

“You’re so naughty...” Zhao Xiaorou’s laughter turned into something almost flirtatious. “But I really like it.”

Hu Xiu felt like she should leave.

On the table were Caesar salads, two different types of grilled meat energy bowls, and a plate of pasta with herb sauce. There were three glasses of fruit juice, arranged in red, yellow, and orange. Zhao Xiaorou loved filling the table with food, but it was all wasted when she couldn’t finish it after eating for a whole day. Now, Ning Zechen was devouring it without worry, not concerned at all that there wouldn’t be enough food.

Hu Xiu had a million questions—how they lived, how they made friends with this lifestyle, where the workplace ceiling was... But she quickly dismissed those thoughts. It felt like the behavior of an old-fashioned elder—never mind.

After finishing, Ning Zechen saw Hu Xiu staring at him and wasn’t surprised: “Sorry, I eat like this backstage too. When I’m about to go on again, I only have five minutes. If I don’t eat fast, I’ll be hungry for two or three hours. Oh, I forgot to introduce myself, Wang Wei.”

Such an old-fashioned name. Hu Xiu paused for two seconds: “I’ll just call you Ning Zechen.”

“Sure...” Ning Zechen eyed the cake Hu Xiu brought: “Little cream cake, nice. It’s been so long since I had a real break, this is how life should be.”

“Every day running from venue to venue, acting until my back hurts, I’m lucky to have found such a beautiful girlfriend like Rou Rou.”

His eyebrows moved quicker than his mouth. Hu Xiu realized that Ning Zechen wasn’t satisfied with the food, but with... the satisfaction after a passionate night.

Zhao Xiaorou slid off Ning Zechen’s lap, grabbed a soft blanket, draped it over her shoulders, and kept her legs on his lap. He stroked her leg with one hand, his fingers flowing under the still light like water. Hu Xiu quickly shifted her gaze away, her skin prickling with goosebumps. Zhao Xiaorou caught her eye: “Hu Xiu, you asked Qin Xiaoyi for his WeChat, maybe you’re enjoying this now.”

Hu Xiu choked on her milk tea, feeling like she was turning into a steam locomotive: “No, no...”

“Don’t look at her denying it. Her mind is full of naughty thoughts. Qin Xiaoyi carried her out of the haunted house. After such close physical contact, if she doesn’t have spring dreams, it’s a sin.”

“Diao Zhiyu loves doing things like that. After acting as Qin Xiaoyi for so long, he probably thinks he’s a prince charming.”

After saying that, he stretched lazily, and his T-shirt wrinkled around his chest, bouncing back as he looked around at the luxury PR gift boxes and packaging, seemingly satisfied by the extravagant surroundings.

“My feelings for Qin Xiaoyi are pure,” Hu Xiu of course wouldn’t tell them about the dream she had where she was chased by zombies and carried by Qin Xiaoyi, running through a forest and ending with a kiss under the sun—it was a pure Disney-like dream, and telling them would be public execution.

Her feelings for Qin Xiaoyi were indeed pure. Even if she wanted to be in a relationship, she wouldn’t dream of anything sensual. Although Qin Xiaoyi had his own unique sexiness, she had mentally castrated it to the point where even holding hands would make her blush and her heart race.

Seeing Hu Xiu’s burning cheeks, Zhao Xiaorou shrugged: “No WeChat, won’t invite you upstairs when I send you home, and no spring dreams? This kind of platonic love is so touching, I’ll write down your story and offer it at the nunnery.”

Ning Zechen laughed heartily. In the show, his character was deeply romantic, always loving Lin Qiumei since childhood, but to hide his identity, he pretended to be a country bumpkin, sinister and crafty, often like a bandit.

However, the Ning Zechen outside the “Snowpiercer” was just like a bandit, overly sexy and seemingly without intelligence.

He looked at Hu Xiu, sitting stiffly on the side of the sofa: “Is it because of your boyfriend that you’re too shy to do anything to Diao Zhiyu?”

“No, that man isn’t my boyfriend,” Hu Xiu quickly said.

“Don’t mention him...” Zhao Xiaorou crunched on her salad. “Hu Xiu may have bad taste in clothes, but she wouldn’t fall for a greasy guy like that.”

“The one you saw was a blind date introduced by her dad. She couldn’t get rid of him, and he was in cahoots with my ex-husband.”

“Her dad’s a weirdo, always trying to morally pressure her to get married since her mom had an affair.”

“But the underlying meaning of the ‘You’re not young anymore, it’s time to get married’ is—”

“You can’t live this carefree anymore. It’s time to face society’s harsh reality and suffer a bit. Kids who genuinely believe that advice from their parents are probably the good ones—masochists, enduring, hardworking, the top performers in the competition.”

“Oh...” Ning Zechen paused: “But actually, it doesn’t matter. Married or with a boyfriend, if they come and fall in love with us, we wouldn’t mind—just acting in the show. There are plenty of married women chasing after Qin Xiaoyi. He treats them all with respect.”

Hearing this, Hu Xiu’s heart skipped a beat. Ning Zechen leaned back on the sofa: “We meet all kinds of people—students, internet celebrities, people with plastic surgery faces, spoiled princesses, proud young married women, rich second-generation heirs, and even celebrities.”

“Recently, we had a ‘Rohan Bureau’ with sixteen men, and one gay guy hit on me. He insisted on dancing with me and even asked me to buy him earrings at the department store.”

Luckily, Lin Qiumei and I are a couple in the play, otherwise, she would probably want to marry me.

“Come on, just because I work on building muscles doesn’t mean I’m gay. Hunger doesn’t distinguish between men and women.”

This made Zhao Xiaorou laugh brightly, but Hu Xiu felt something clogging up in her chest.

Ning Zechen handed Hu Xiu the salad, but she waved him off. He didn’t think much of it and continued, “Aren’t you curious about what type of people Diao Zhi Yu attracts?”

Seeing that Hu Xiu didn’t reply, he continued on his own: “He’s really good at winning over young girls. The teenage girls and those in their early twenties who come in here don’t even call him ‘Minister Qin,’ they call him ‘Brother.’”

“There are married ones too, sending him flirtatious glances, and then there are the shy ones, or those who usually behave properly—like you—who can’t seem to pull away from him.”

“Is he... popular?” Hu Xiu asked.

“Of course. When you came to the venue, you were probably a first-time visitor, right? You’ll see more regulars next time.”

“There’s this group of wealthy women, a few of them always come together, and they’ve been here dozens of times. Sometimes, they even stay for two shows in a row, just to be around the handsome guys. Maybe their home lives aren’t great.”

“Once, they brought ten other women to rent out the whole venue, and both Qin Shaoyi were there—one playing Qin Shaoyi, and the other as an American military officer. The whole venue was swarmed, no one could get through, and everyone was crowding around the handsome guys. They couldn’t even walk down the hall.”

“Those older women all smelled of heavy perfume, but it couldn’t hide the scent of their aging bodies. They could only comfort themselves by telling themselves that they liked us.”

This made Hu Xiu a little angry. “Don’t you reject them?”

“Why would we? If there’s money to be made, why would we be upset?”

“You care that much about your pay?”

“Big sister, you didn’t get it. If we make them happy, we can get tips. Remember the tip QR code we had?”

“When the wealthy women’s group comes, we secretly enjoy it. We can get several hundred in one day, and if we make them happy, we can easily earn eight hundred to a thousand bucks.”

“Isn’t that like being a gigolo?”

“Everyone gets what they need. We perform for you, we perform for them, and still get paid. What’s so bad about that?”

Hu Xiu’s heart sank as she listened to Ning Zechen’s words. “So... you’re all just acting?”

“What else could it be? Our job is to make the customers happy. And if they come back, we get tips.”

“Don’t be fooled by how Qin Shaoyi acts in the play—he can make a thousand bucks a month just from tips.”

Zhao Xiaorou listened carefully. “What about you?”

“Same, I guess. After all, the people who like me are rich, free, and a bit self-indulgent, like you. I’m a killer of married women.”

“Do you want some alcohol?” Zhao Xiaorou stood up, went to the fridge to grab some beer, but after a turn around the kitchen, she wasn’t satisfied and took out a bottle of whiskey. “Wang Wei, though I told you not to act in front of me, be direct and don’t break Hu Xiu’s heart, okay? If you break her heart, I’ll dump you.”

“Understood. But we need to make sure she doesn’t dream unrealistic dreams. We’re all just NPCs working in escape rooms and murder mystery plays. We’ve all done the Sichuan-Chongqing style and Beijing style, played gods, ghosts—by the time we got to Snowpiercer, we were already numb to the players.”

“Murder mystery games focus on the setting and the plot, immersive theater is all about interaction and experience, and we have our own workplace rules.”

“We act according to the scene—how to tease, how to seduce, we have our methods. But we don’t take the players too seriously. They’re here for fun, and once that thrill is gone, they won’t come back.”

“We all know this, so none of us get truly attached. It’s like if one day you find me in your way, I’ll just exit the scene.”

Hu Xiu couldn’t sit still anymore. She stood up, squatted on the floor, and started folding airplane boxes and gift paper.

Maybe it was because she couldn’t easily process all the information from tonight, but the image of Qin Shaoyi, someone she thought was genuine and a little selfish, turned into a shallow boy wandering through a sea of flowers in her mind.

Qin Shaoyi and Diao Zhi Yu were like the A-side and B-side of a tape. When you flip it to the other side and put it in a Walkman, you hear something different, and the magnetic powder can be rewritten, making it hard to tell which side is the real one.

Disappointment and worry rose from deep inside her, and besides feeling sad, she also felt a sense of unease. Was it a good thing for a young boy to embrace such a superficial world and focus on being a fake actor? Was that really the right way to live?

He had once said that Rongcheng was a big melting pot, and so was this society. Hu Xiu had lived this long, and she wasn’t always a good person either.

“Hu Xiu, don’t be sad. We all like you. Do you remember that mixed-race-faced Qin Shaoyi? He only saw you once, and later when he quit, he asked me about you, saying you were very smart.”

“So, don’t hang everything on Diao Zhi Yu. There are so many actors in Snowpiercer.”

“And from what I know, Diao Zhi Yu really has a characteristic. He’s nice to everyone in the game. If he meets someone who wants money, he’ll play along with the scheming. If someone’s pitiful, he’ll take care of them. If someone likes to tease him, he’ll tease back. He doesn’t mind taking anyone’s hand or arm, and he won’t pull away.”

“But there’s one type of person who gets him completely hooked. They keep coming back for him, offering him their true hearts, only focusing on him in the game—he really loves that.”

“Looks like you, Hu Xiu, are that type of person. After work, just seeing you makes him happy. He won’t drink, and he’ll cross the street to come find you.”

“I don’t know if I should believe this.”

“I, Ning Zechen, don’t lie after leaving Snowpiercer.”

After that, the three of them fell silent. On the TV, an 18-year-old phenomenon-level historical drama was playing, and the palace maid who framed the female lead was kneeling and apologizing, crying pitifully.

Ning Zechen ate some cake and said, “This girl was my classmate. She was sent to be an actress because she was one of the outstanding graduates, and now she has lines.”

“Is that all she does? Just play a palace maid?”

“Of course. Having lines is already a big deal. It’s not easy to get a script on set and work your way up to a role.”

“At schools like Central Academy of Drama or Shanghai Theatre Academy, the entry bar is still pretty high. But for our ordinary school’s acting department, it’s common to be a background actor.”

“We see so many handsome men and beautiful women in our little circle, so we roughly know who will get famous. When someone with average looks suddenly becomes well-known, it’s usually because they have someone backing them up.”

Hu Xiu stared at the skinny female lead on the TV screen: “What kind of person can become a star or the lead?”

“Big fame depends on luck. How good you look or how hard you work doesn’t matter; what’s important is timing and destiny—luck.”

Zhao Xiaorou took a drag from her cigarette: “I think when an actor is really talented, I just feel like they’ll make it. They can play anyone and be liked by the audience, which is the most important thing.

“Recently, young actors in the entertainment industry all look like little old ladies. Their nasolabial folds are already so deep, and they’re only in their twenties. In their thirties, they could play someone’s mother.

“It’s not that I have a TVB filter, but Hong Kong actors really do have some distinct characteristics beyond their looks.”

“Whenever I browse the gossip forums, I can tell right away why some people are not popular. If someone isn’t famous, there’s a reason for it.”

“I suspect you’re hinting at me.”

While she was in the kitchen getting ice, Hu Xiu followed her and lowered her voice to ask, “What kind of relationship do you have with him—boyfriend and girlfriend, or just physical needs?”

“We’re dating. Don’t think so lowly of it; I like this type. Didn’t I already tell you?”

“But what if he’s just acting? You’ll get hurt.”

“My ex-husband was an actor, so I’m not afraid. This profession requires confidentiality, and I also don’t want to tell anyone. Before we started dating, I told him I had one requirement: don’t act with me. Whatever you have to say, say it honestly. After a week, it’s been pretty enjoyable, especially physically.”

“Then... can Li Ai know?”

Zhao Xiaorou paused for a second before continuing to scoop ice: “There’s nothing to hide.”

The two returned to the living room in silence. Ning Zechen lazily turned the TV to the news, then switched to a shopping channel. Pointing at a model on screen, he exclaimed, “Wow, fishnet stockings, those legs are so sexy.”

Zhao Xiaorou closed her eyes and took a sip of milk tea: “That’s how we tie the cured meat at New Year.”