Jor

Tong Zhao arrived on set with bruises all over his face, intending to apologize to the director in person and ask him to postpone his scenes.

At first glance, the director thought his face was covered in injury makeup. "Do you have a fight scene?" he asked in surprise.

"No." Tong Zhao sheepishly scratched the bridge of his nose. "There's just a fight scene in my life."

When the director realized what had happened, his voice shot up. "You got into a fight while we're filming?!"

The beautiful Hua Xiaotang, who was waiting nearby, immediately said with a smile, "Director, director, you can't blame Tong Zhao for this. He was helping me. He was doing a good deed, playing the hero and rescuing a beauty!"

"You were there when he fought?" The director's voice rose another notch.

"We were having a late-night snack," Hua Xiaotang said.

The director looked from one of them to the other.

Why had the two of them gone out for a late-night snack together? Could they be dating?

Forget it. They were only minor supporting actors. Even if word got out, it wouldn't have much effect on the drama itself. It might even generate a little buzz.

"All right, don't be so impulsive next time." The director couldn't be bothered with them anymore and continued discussing the storyboards with the assistant director.

After filming a shot, Shi Ruohe walked over to the rest area. He was dumbfounded when he saw the bruises all over Tong Zhao's face and asked what had happened, distressed and worried. Tong Zhao gave him a rough account of the previous night.

"So President Shu suddenly showed up and saved you?" Shi Ruohe found it surreal.

"Yeah."

"Does President Shu take that many people with him whenever he goes out?"

"That's called discreet protection. For someone of Shu Sizhuo's standing, wouldn't it be dangerous not to have a few extra bodyguards?"

Tong Zhao remembered how he had been stabbed while protecting the eleven-year-old Shu Sizhuo, and how the nineteen-year-old Shu Sizhuo had also been stabbed while protecting him.

His thoughts then jumped to the young man he had run into at the old residence the day before, the one who looked so much like him, and bitterness welled up in his heart.

Could Shu Sizhuo be in love with my face?

Because I was Shu Sizhuo's first love, did I seriously damage his sexual orientation and the diversity of his tastes?

That would explain why Shu Sizhuo was so determined to keep me. Because I'm the one who looks most like me!

So how many people has Shu Sizhuo kept? Were they all this type? What exactly is in the wind house?

Tong Zhao's head suddenly throbbed, and his heart felt as if it had been torn open. Every breath made it feel dry and sore. It was unbearable.

Tong Zhao's scenes were on hold for the next few days. He stared at his bank balance, lost in thought. Although he could pay back the loan from headquarters with his salary after he returned, he couldn't very well blow all his wages in the little world, could he? Besides, he had planned to stay for the full year this time...

The most interesting thing about being a tasker was that, whether they completed their mission or not, they could stay in the mission world for a full year. Some of his senior colleagues treated it as a chance to explore and travel through different worlds, completing their missions early so they could briefly enjoy different lives.

Tong Zhao didn't want to explore or travel. He just wanted to stay in a world with Shu Sizhuo for as long as he could.

Tong Zhao opened a part-time job website and decided to pick up some odd jobs during his days off. Otherwise, forget a year; he'd be broke in less than six months.

After browsing for a while, he found a part-time job handing out flyers in a mascot costume. It was for both days of the weekend and paid a hundred a day.

Tong Zhao wore a capybara costume and handed out coupons in front of a café.

Saturday was exceptionally hot and muggy. Tong Zhao was drenched in sweat inside the costume and nearly passed out from the heat.

It rained on Sunday. The rain was only a little heavier than a drizzle, but the ground was so wet that Tong Zhao slipped while a group of children were tugging at him and landed flat on his back. The costume was so bulky that he floundered for ages without managing to get up. He couldn't have looked more bedraggled.

When it was time to pay him, the young woman who owned the café looked at Tong Zhao's bruised, handsome face and took pity on him, treating him to a latte.

"Thank you." Tong Zhao smiled.

"I'll call you again next time." The owner paused, then smiled sheepishly. "When the weather's clear."

Tong Zhao drank his coffee as he walked toward the subway station, stopping when he passed a pet shop.

He spotted a palm-sized, yellow Chinese rural dog plushie.

It looked a lot like the puppy plushie that Little Loofah had liked when he was a few months old, as Tong Zhao remembered it.

When Tong Zhao came out of the pet shop, he had a Chinese rural dog plushie in his hand.

He looked at the plushie's cute face and smiled. I wonder if Little Loofah will like it?

Tong Zhao didn't stay idle on Monday either. He found a part-time job delivering takeout and borrowed Shi Ruohe's bicycle.

Shi Ruohe hadn't gone to the set that morning and was at home planting flowers with his grandpa. He gave Tong Zhao the key to the bike and asked with concern, "What are you going to do?"

I'm going to deliver takeout!

The words were about to come out, but Tong Zhao changed course at the last second. "I'm going cycling to get some exercise."

Shi Ruohe nodded without suspecting a thing. "Be careful, then. My bike's a bit old."

"It's fine. I'm a great cyclist."

Tong Zhao hadn't told the truth. He had only just urged Shi Ruohe to focus on acting and stop thinking about odd jobs, and now he was taking all sorts of part-time work himself. If Shi Ruohe found out, wouldn't that make him a hypocrite?

Tong Zhao went from place to place in his airtight delivery uniform, thinking, Hey, this uniform covers me so completely that even a celebrity could take this job without worrying. Nobody would recognize them!

At dinnertime, Tong Zhao received an order for the forty-fifth floor. When he reached the building, he discovered there was an electrical problem on that floor, and the elevator had stopped working.

Tong Zhao had been running around all day. He looked up at the forty-five flights of stairs, his legs going a little weak.

In the end, he ran up anyway and, panting, braced himself against the wall and rang the doorbell.

The middle-aged man who had placed the order opened the door, looking displeased. "What took you so long? If I starve to death, are you taking responsibility?"

Hey! What rotten luck!

Tong Zhao panted. "Sir, the elevator's broken. I ran up here."

"So?" The man tilted his nose in the air. "What's a broken elevator got to do with me? I paid for my food. Do I have to worry about how you get it here too?"

"I'm not late. Are you blind?"

"You're thirty-five seconds late, and you still say you're not late! You're just a delivery guy, and you dare insult a customer! I'm filing a complaint!" the man said, glaring.

"What are you going to complain about?"

"That you're late! That your service attitude is terrible! I'm giving you a bad review!"

Tong Zhao snatched his food back. "Fine, then you can go hungry. Serves you right if you starve to death."

With that, Tong Zhao turned and ran down the stairs.

The man stared after him, dumbstruck, then chased him halfway down a flight and roared, "Give me back my food! You @T￥...#￥*!!!"

"Give it back my ass!" Tong Zhao shouted back, feeling incredibly satisfied.

But the consequences of that satisfaction were a warning, penalty points and a fine. Either way, most of his day's wages were gone.

Tong Zhao didn't regret it. What right did someone like that have to eat?

That night, Tong Zhao found a noodle shop. He had just finished a bowl of duck blood and vermicelli soup when he received an order from the Rongsen Luxury Apartments.

The customer's name was Jor, and the order was for millet porridge from a private congee shop, plus an order of thin-skinned shumai.