The move out of Tianyuan Housing Complex was a clean break, a shedding of dead weight. Jin Hao didn't have much to haul—just a duffel bag stuffed with faded clothes he'd soon ditch, a set of dumbbells that'd served their purpose, and a chipped bowl that'd cradled too many lonely meals.
The apartment had been a prison of peeling paint and stale despair, and he walked out with 18,000 yuan left of the original 50,000 starter cash, with the additional 100,000 he spent a few ten thousand on a new place, new clothes, and a life that didn't reek of rot.
His new spot was in Zhonghai's mid-tier district, a crisp one-bedroom with smooth white walls, a wide window framing the city's neon veins, and a gym in the basement that smelled of rubber mats and ambition. It wasn't luxury, but it was a signal he'd clawed his way out of nothing.
The transition happened fast, all in a day. Morning saw him signing the lease, afternoon had him tossing his old rags for sharp jackets, fitted shirts, and boots with a solid thud.
By evening, he was striding through Zhonghai's streets, the skyline flickering alive as dusk settled.
His new look turned heads—a girl in a red coat, maybe twenty, caught his eye on the way to meet Zhou Lei.
He hadn't spoken to his friend in a whole year!
The lady summoned the courage. She stepped close, her heels clicking on the pavement, a shy smile on her lips.
"Hey handsome, uh, you got a number I could grab? Make we void grab a dinner and get to know each other while we're at it." she asked, twirling a strand of hair, her cheeks pink.
Jin paused, feeling Intuitive Divergence hum faintly—a nudge, a whisper. Before he could answer, Wirs flickered into view, visible only to him, hovering at his shoulder with a smirk.
"She's cute, host, nice bust, above average hips, but no dice—she's single. No relationship, no rewards. Save your charm for the real game."
He flashed the girl a polite grin.
"Sorry, not really looking right now. Take care, yeah?"
She flushed deeper, mumbled an "Oh, okay," and scurried off, embarrassment trailing her like a shadow. Jin watched her go, then kept walking, the noodle joint's steamed-up windows glowing ahead.
Wirs floated alongside, her holographic body glitching faintly in the streetlight.
"Oof, Jin, you're hot stuff now—the ladies are starting to notice. Look at you, breaking hearts without even trying. Who knows, keep this up, maybe some brand'll scoop you up to model their gear. Billboards with that jawline? I know I'd buy whatever they're selling."
Jin snorted, boots scuffing the sidewalk. "Plausible, sure. But I've got my sights on bigger things—billboards won't make Lin choke on her own smugness... Maybe it would, but I want a front row seat to the show. I'm playing for keeps, Wirs."
She laughed, sharp and bright. "That's my host. Eyes on the prize—love the hunger. Now, go see your buddy. Time to flex that new you."
The noodle joint was a dive carved out of Zhonghai's underbelly, a squat brick box wedged between a pawn shop and a laundromat. The air inside hit like a wall—grease, soy, and the faint tang of spilled beer—mixed with the hiss of woks and the clatter of cheap ceramic bowls. Red vinyl booths lined the walls, cracked and peeling, their stuffing spilling out like guts. A neon Open sign buzzed in the window, half its letters dead, and the counter was smeared with years of sauce stains, manned by a cook with a cigarette dangling from his lip.
Zhou Lei sat at a corner table, hunched over a steaming bowl of beef ramen, his buzzcut catching the dim light, his grease-stained jacket slung over the chair. The place smelled like nostalgia, like late nights and broke promises, and Jin felt it tug at him as he stepped in, boots thudding on the sticky tile.
Lei's head snapped up, eyes narrowing as Jin approached, then widening like he'd seen a ghost.
He froze, chopsticks dripping broth back into the bowl, staring as Jin slid into the seat across from him. The table wobbled under his elbows, a dented metal thing littered with soy packets and crumpled napkins.
"Who the hell are you?" Lei growled, voice rough as a rusted engine, his thick fingers tightening around the chopsticks. "You look like some gym rat from the business district. Wrong spot, man—this ain't a spot fur guys like you."
Jin leaned back, arms crossing over a chest that strained his jacket, a slow grin tugging his lips.
"It's me, Lei. Jin Hao. You gonna finish that ramen or just scowl at it?"
Lei's jaw slackened, noodles splashing back into the broth with a wet plop. "No damn way. NO FUCKING DAMN WAY! Jin? Your voice—it's deeper, like you gargled gravel. And your face—what the hell? You hit the gym or get a whole new body shipped in? wait... how can I be sure you are even the Jin I know, this it all so unbelievably you need to prove it. Tell me something only Jin'd know."
Jin chuckled. "Alright. That night we got smashed on baijiu behind the warehouse—you hurled in my shoes, called it a 'mishap,' and I made you swap socks 'cause mine were toast. Still owe me a pair, you cheap bastard."
Lei's eyes bulged, then he barked a laugh, slamming a meaty hand on the table, rattling the soy packets. "Son of a—it's you! Man, I thought you were dead—no calls, no nothing, just poof for a whole year. I'd visited but I was scared with what I'd find. But damn, Look at you now—built like a brick wall, dressed like you've got cash to throw around. What happened? Lin finally snapped you in half, and you turned into this? Damn guess I need to get my heart broken too."
Jin's grin faded, his gaze dropping to the table's dents for a moment. "Yeah, something like that. She tore me up, left me with nothing. But I didn't let it bury me—I used it. Took a year, cut everyone off, rebuilt myself from scratch. Had to figure out who I was without her dragging me down."