Qingmu became extremely interested in the academic conference in Copenhagen, but he was hardly qualified to attend. With Mei Yiqiu's credentials, bringing an assistant would certainly be no problem, but he could hardly have the nerve to ask the professor to take him along as his assistant and leave Mei Ziqing at home.
Before he left, the professor generously referred a job to Qingmu.
"You know I hate dealing with rich people. They always think they're some great figures in the world, dreaming of changing the world with the money in their hands. They like discussing artificial intelligence, the Internet of Things, and future space cities with you, telling you how much they've invested in those fields, and saying a few hundred million is pocket change! Sounds truly magnificent! But when you ask them to invest a little in my biology laboratory, they always make excuses and ask when it'll turn a profit."
"Oh, fuck profits! Fuck rich people! All they like deep down is houses and gold. If humanity enters the space age, the first thing they think of will definitely be the mineral deposits on the Moon and Mars. Then they'll build houses wherever they can't dig up minerals and hoodwink you into buying them, while printing the title 'Great entrepreneur who changed human society' on their own gold business cards."
The professor's voice was loud and angry, and he banged his pipe against the table.
"I should have refused when people like that came knocking, but there are always some favors I find hard to turn down. I'm going to Copenhagen, so go take a look for me. Things in psychology and the mental realm won't stump you anyway, and you might even make a fortune! There's no need to stand on ceremony with these rich people!"
As Mei Ziqing walked Qingmu out, she reminded him, "I gave them your contact details. They'll come find you. But when will you move your studio over here? The professor has mentioned it several times already. He hopes you can move into the laboratory. There's plenty of empty space here anyway!"
"Oh, I'll give it some more thought."
Compared with the laboratory, he preferred the atmosphere of the old streets of Liuying Lane. Though worldly, the place had more life to it. Lazy as he was, he didn't like a lifeless or mechanically rigid world.
"Who exactly is it? What needs to be done?" Qingmu wanted to know more about the job.
Mei Ziqing said, "Actually, I don't know very much either. The professor doesn't like these people, so I didn't dare ask too much. In any case, it's someone very rich."
"All right, then. Sorry for the trouble of looking after the professor. Thank you for all your hard work!"
Mei Ziqing was a very intellectual woman, with sweet looks, gentle manners, and a calm way of speaking. Apparently, she was Japanese. After hearing Mei Yiqiu lecture at Waseda University, she had been so astonished by his brilliance that she followed Professor Mei to China and even took a Chinese name.
Qingmu felt that someone as slovenly as Mei Yiqiu, who could spare no attention for anything except his research, really did need a beautiful woman to look after him.
In fact, ever since Mei Ziqing had arrived at the laboratory, both the office doors and windows and Professor Mei himself had looked far more presentable than before.
"It's only what I should do. Don't worry!" Mei Ziqing bowed to Qingmu at the doorway in farewell, showing a sweet smile.
After leaving Mei Yiqiu's laboratory, Qingmu wandered aimlessly through the streets, his mind still full of the symbol composed of two triangles. One moment, the triangles turned into pyramids, and he saw sand flowing inside them; the next, a mummy wrapped tightly in white strips of cloth climbed out of a vertical shaft, before turning into a woman whose features were indistinct.
He remembered that woman saying the other day that he was in her dreams, yet he had never seen him in his dreams. He knew memories were the material from which dreams were made. If that woman had never seen him, how could she dream of him?
When he couldn't figure it out, Qingmu simply stopped thinking about it and treated it as a dream he'd had. In any case, if that woman had some background and some connection with him, she would certainly come back to find him.
The scorching Sun hung in the sky, but Qingmu was completely oblivious as he strolled leisurely down the street.
He took the last cigarette from his pocket and tossed the old pack into a roadside trash can.
He soon finished his last cigarette and walked into a nearby convenience store. "Hey, a pack of Paramount."
"No Paramount." The plump, middle-aged proprietress was watching television in front of an electric fan. Beside her, a busty woman in skimpy clothing, with makeup thicker than her clothes, was buying a drink.
As the woman paid, the proprietress looked up and saw Qingmu. Suddenly, she stood with a startled "Huh?" and pointed at him. "You... you..."
Only then did Qingmu remember encountering a mother and daughter outside this store. The mother's bag had been snatched, and the little girl had been pushed into the road by the thief and nearly killed by a car.
"Oh, you don't? Then just give me any pack." Qingmu's expression didn't change at all.
After stammering "you" for ages without getting anything out, the proprietress turned and took a pack of Furongwang from the shelf. "Thirty-five."
"Uh..." Qingmu didn't reach for it. "Couldn't you get me something cheaper?"
"..."
The proprietress froze for a moment, thinking, You fucking said any pack! Looking at Qingmu's completely unembarrassed face, she thought his skin must be thicker than the corrugated cardboard used to pack cigarettes!
The busty woman beside him gave a disdainful smile and muttered softly, "Tch! Broke, but still putting on airs!"
The proprietress unhappily put the Furongwang back and tossed over a pack of Dafengshou. "One fifty."
"Uh... I'll have a pack of Honghe instead," Qingmu said.
The woman beside him stifled a laugh and nearly sprayed out a mouthful of orange juice, her large breasts quivering as she looked at Qingmu with the sort of look she would give a beggar on the street.
The proprietress slammed a pack of Honghe onto the counter. "Six fifty."
Qingmu scanned the QR code on the wall with his phone and paid six yuan first.
The proprietress said, "It's six fifty. You're fifty cents short. Do you have money or not?"
The woman said, "Just give him a discount. It's only fifty cents. Think of it as giving something to a beggar outside!"
The proprietress said, "Go to a big supermarket if you want a discount. There aren't any here."
Without hurrying, Qingmu took a fifty-cent coin from his pocket and put it on the counter. "The coin was digging into me. I just wanted to spend it."
The proprietress took the money with a dark expression. The woman cursed, "Nutcase!"
Qingmu wasn't annoyed. He opened the pack, pulled out a cigarette, and put it between his lips. Taking out his gleaming S.T. Dupont lighter, he flicked his right hand twice, flipped open the lid with a ding, and lit it, comfortably drawing on his cigarette over the flame.
The crisp metallic ring of the S.T. Dupont Ligne lighter echoed through the little store along with the smoke.
The proprietress sat back down in front of her electric fan, unmoved, but the busty woman clearly knew her goods. She stared at Qingmu in astonishment, seemingly trying to determine whether the lighter was genuine.
With the cigarette hanging crookedly from his mouth, Qingmu sauntered over to the woman. Staring fixedly at the two spectacular mounds on her chest, he asked, "How big?"
The woman froze. "What did you say?"
"I asked how big you are." Qingmu didn't look away.
The woman's face, covered in thick powder and makeup, suddenly turned coy. "Heeheehee~~ You're so naughty! You can't just ask a girl that!"
A sports car pulled up by the roadside outside, its hazard lights flashing.
"Forget it if you won't say. I have to go." Qingmu put away his lighter, slipped both hands into his trouser pockets, and started outside.
The woman's eyes lit up, and she said bashfully, "Heeheehee~~ It's not that I won't tell you. I'm just embarrassed! I'm a 36D!"
The sports car roared away.
Qingmu had just clacked his way to the doorway in his slippers when he turned back and said, "Oh, thirty-six already? Happy zodiac year!"