The corners of Song Shi'an's mouth curled up beneath his mask, his eyes curving into two arcs along with them. Sure enough, girls were all so understanding, and so cute, too.
After handing over the delivery, he turned and headed downstairs, his footsteps clattering into the distance.
The girl stood in the doorway holding her takeout, her little heart pounding.
She couldn't see his expression through the mask, but when those eyes curved, it was as though someone had fired a shot straight into her heart.
Did even food delivery have a looks requirement now?
Song Shi'an reached the bottom of the stairs, took off his helmet, and leaned against the wall, panting for a good while before he recovered.
He took out his phone and checked the details of that order. Six yuan eighty.
Then he scrolled through the platform's order pool and discovered that most of the orders left sitting unclaimed for ages were of the same kind: old residential compounds, sixth floor or above, no elevator. Orders for newer compounds and office buildings with elevators vanished in seconds.
Nobody wanted the stair-climbing orders, so in the end, the system could only assign them automatically to newcomers.
Song Shi'an put his helmet back on, unscrewed his bottle of mineral water, and took a huge gulp.
Forget it. I'll count it as exercise. Six yuan eighty a trip, sixty-eight for ten trips. Besides, delivery riders work out in the wind and sun, which fits my requirement of not taking part-time work in entertainment perfectly.
Another order popped up on the platform. He glanced at the pickup address, then at the delivery address. Seventh floor. No elevator again.
Song Shi'an took a deep breath, climbed onto his little electric scooter, and twisted the throttle.
Song Shi'an delivered food for three hours, only pushing his scooter back to his rented room once its battery had completely died.
He flopped onto the bed, his arms and legs aching, and tapped into the backend to check his balance.
One hundred and thirty!
The last run had paid the most. Seven or eight orders all went to the same office building, netting him over sixty yuan in a single trip.
He stared at that number and grinned foolishly for a good while, feeling as though life had a little promise again.
After his shower, he didn't even dry his hair before dropping face-first onto his pillow. He was asleep in three seconds.
While he slept like the dead, waves were quietly stirring online.
Wu Yue finished editing today's candid footage of Xu Che and moved her mouse to another folder.
It held the set of photos she'd taken that afternoon of the masked young man. She picked one to use as her desktop wallpaper, looked at it again and again, and still couldn't let it go.
She was Xu Che's fansite admin, so posting anyone else on her main account certainly wouldn't be appropriate. But she also had an alternate account with over a hundred thousand followers, where she posted all sorts of celebrities. It was a real mixed bag.
She chose the photo of him gazing up at the sky at a forty-five-degree angle.
In the picture, the young man leaned against a wall in a fitted black outfit, his hair tied in a high ponytail. The wind lifted his red hair ribbon, tangling it with his black hair.
A gold-thread mask covered the lower half of his face, leaving only a pair of slightly lowered eyes visible.
Sunlight filtered through gaps in the corridor eaves, falling across his shoulders and brow bones. With its natural layers of light and shadow, the whole image looked like a CG screenshot from an ancient-style game.
The instant she posted the nine-photo grid, the comments exploded.
"Please tell me what this is!! My eyes need an explanation!!"
"Wait, this is a real person? Not some game's new character? Have production crews gotten this competitive now?"
"That fragile beauty, that atmosphere. A single picture tells an entire story. I hereby declare this picture my new lock screen starting today."
"Three seconds. I want every piece of information on this man. I said three seconds! Three minutes works too, I'm begging you!"
"Am I the only one wondering what he looks like under that mask? Those eyes and brows have already slain me. If the lower half of his face is gorgeous too, I'll drop dead on the spot."
In the middle of the night, someone reposted the photos on D Station.
The speed at which things spread on short-video platforms was frightening. In under two hours, the comments had passed a thousand.
Casual viewers clicked in, leaving strings of question marks and exclamation points.
"Who's this? How is he this handsome without a single photo showing his full face?"
"What did you say! These are candid shots from Aspiration to Reach the Clouds?! Was there someone like this in the original novel? I've read it three times. How come I don't remember a masked guard?"
"Just passing through. Taking him with me. Already made him my lock screen. Explosively gorgeous."
Director Zhang had just wrapped work in the middle of the night and was squatting beside a monitor, smoking to perk himself up.
An assistant jogged over holding a phone, excitement all over their face.
"Director Zhang! Look! That guard's gone viral!"
Director Zhang flicked his cigarette ash, not taking it seriously. "What's gone viral?"
The assistant shoved the phone into his hand.
He looked down and scrolled through a few pages, nearly dropping the cigarette from his mouth.
Someone had actually photographed him, and done such a good job, too. That lighting, that atmosphere, that composition-anyone who didn't know better would think a professional still photographer hired by the production had taken them.
He stared at the photo of him gazing up at the sky for a good while. If the actual show doesn't turn out like this, I'll get cursed to death, won't I?
He returned the phone to the assistant. "Send me the link."
The assistant hurriedly forwarded the link to Director Zhang on WeChat.
Director Zhang stood and headed straight over to Director Wang, who was staring at the monitor, reviewing the night scenes they'd shot that evening, his brows knitted tightly enough to crush a fly.
He wasn't happy with any of the three takes of this scene and was already considering reshooting it tomorrow.
Director Zhang burst through the door like a gust of wind. "Old Wang, come take a look!"
Director Wang didn't even raise his head. "What's gone wrong now?"
Director Zhang held the phone right under his nose.
Director Wang scrolled through the comments, then the reposts, his expression gradually shifting from weary to thoughtful.
Row after row of comments consisted entirely of threats.
"If this person doesn't show up in the actual drama, you're dead!"
"These candid shots are so beautiful. Don't you dare make that kid look ugly! If the actual footage sucks, I'll be the first to object!"
"@Aspiration to Reach the Clouds Official, get out here and take your beating. If you ruin this character, you'll have to answer for it."
Director Wang set down the phone and rubbed his temples. "Let's have a meeting in a bit." After a moment's thought, he changed his mind. "Forget it. Get the screenwriter to join us tomorrow morning. Let's see if we can flesh this character out a little and give him some highlight moments."
Director Zhang hesitated. "There's no such character in the novel. If we add too much, I'm afraid the original novel's fans will kick up a fuss."
Director Wang glanced at him, his tone calm. "A good drama can break through all that. The novel couldn't air without changes anyway. It wasn't an S+ script to begin with. We're lucky we managed to get Xu Che, and the male lead is still a newcomer. If this kid can deliver, he might be a breakthrough point."
Director Zhang nodded and slipped his phone back into his pocket. Could domestic entertainment be about to get a new rookie king...
Early the next morning, Song Shi'an was woken by his phone ringing.
Without even opening his eyes, he fumbled around for ages before finding his phone and swiping to answer, his voice thick with sleep. "Hello?"
The other end was silent for two seconds.
Still groggy, Song Shi'an was about to hang up when the person on the other end hurriedly spoke. "Hello, is this Song Shi'an?"
He snapped awake. An unfamiliar number that knows my name. Don't tell me it's a debt collector!
He snatched up his pillow and hugged it to his chest, mustering the most righteously confident tone of his entire life. "I'm not! Stop calling!"
The person on the other end was clearly taken aback and hurried to explain. "No, no, this is the number he left. I'm with the Aspiration to Reach the Clouds production crew. Director Zhang asked me to contact you."
Song Shi'an breathed a sigh of relief, coughed twice to clear his throat, and adopted a much more proper tone. "Um, did you need something?"
"Director Zhang sent you a message but didn't get a reply. He's busy filming, so he asked me to get in touch. Would you have time to come to the set today?"