SES Chapter 3

The person who came was Huo Zihong. She had a perpetually weary look on her face, with deep lines bracketing her mouth. Although she looked older than her age, her features suggested that she must have been quite pretty when she was younger.

Her health was poor, constantly sick with something or other. The past couple of days, she’d had a cold and couldn’t stop coughing. She poked her head out from the top of the stairs. Even though she was a little annoyed, her voice was still soft and gentle:
“Mu Dai, come to my room for a minute. And don’t keep bullying… Thirteen.”

She’d meant to call him by name but couldn’t remember it for the life of her.
“This is all your fault,” she added. “Giving him such a ridiculous nickname—I can’t even remember what his real name is anymore.”

Mu Dai stepped around Thirteen and headed upstairs. The wooden stairs creaked under her feet. Thirteen heard her voice drifting back from above:
“Well, it’s not wrong. He does owe you thirteen thousand yuan. He signed up to work it off for a year. Even if I did bully him, which I didn’t—bullying a slave isn’t against the law.”

Thirteen got up off the stairs, grumbling under his breath, Slave? You’re the slave. Your whole damn family’s a bunch of slaves.

Behind the bar, most of the customers had cleared out. Uncle Zhang was hunched over, sweeping between tables. Thirteen finished logging the latest inventory into the computer. After ensuring no one was around, he quickly pulled up the Tianya Forum.

A few weeks ago, he’d posted a thread called “Exposing My Insane Boss Lady.” In the post, he referred to his boss as “Forest”—five feet one, about 150 pounds, and a total tyrant when it came to managing staff. Even Scrooge would blush.

It wasn’t exactly viral, but the views and replies were nothing to sneeze at.

Thirteen updated it with today’s “truthful” account: he’d accidentally broken a glass while washing up at the bar, and Forest had kicked him without a second thought. He’d shouted in protest, “Don’t workers deserve some dignity too?” Only for her to scoff, her face scrunched up with sarcasm:
“You eat my food and live under my roof. That makes you our slave!”

Comments poured in.

“Your boss sounds nuts.”
“Damn right you shouted back! Should’ve slapped her too.”
“You should bounce, man. From what you’ve described, you’re way too talented to be stuck there.”

Reading all the sympathetic replies warmed Thirteen’s heart. He hummed a little tune while tidying up the bar, then paused to refresh the thread again. One comment made his stomach drop.

“You’ve got quite the imagination. Shame you’re not writing novels. You done daydreaming? Glasses still aren’t washed, are they?”

The username was PayYourDebtsIt ’sOnlyFair. He clicked on the profile—it had been registered right around the time he made the post.

A chill ran down his spine. Slowly, he looked up at the ceiling. The bar’s second floor was for staff housing. Directly above him… was Huo Zihong’s room. And Mu Dai was probably in there with her.

Could that comment have come from… her?

Upstairs, Huo Zihong was having a coughing fit. Mu Dai poured herself half a cup of cough syrup.
“If you’re not feeling well, stop wandering around. Instead of resting, you’re wasting energy defending a scumbag.”

Huo Zihong sipped the syrup, hand on her chest, trying to catch her breath.
“Mu Dai, don’t be so hard on Thirteen.”

Mu Dai spun a chair around and straddled it backwards.
“I’m not being hard on him. He is a con artist. You should’ve let that boss from Zhejiang hand him over to the cops.”

Back then?
That whole thing started with that boss from Zhejiang…

About two years ago, the boss and a few friends were driving along the Sichuan-Tibet Highway. They stopped near Zheduo Mountain for a break. He was over fifty, and not in the best shape—just walking a few steps at that altitude left him breathless. While sitting down, he casually looked down the road—and that’s when he saw Thirteen, and was stunned.

Thirteen had on a cycling helmet and tight gear, riding a loaded bicycle with heavy panniers, his expression solemn and eyes full of determination.

The boss was floored. In a place where he could barely catch his breath, this young man was grinding uphill on a bike, fully loaded. What kind of spirit was that?

He called out, “Hey, young man, take a break!”

Then they started talking, and the more he listened, the more he was blown away.

Thirteen told him his dream was to cycle around the world. So far, he’d already biked through over twenty provinces in China. He even showed the boss a flag covered in signatures—most from foreign tourists. Thirteen pointed to one particularly illegible scrawl and proudly said, “That one’s from the Belgian Ambassador to China!”

Then he laid out his grand plan: enter Tibet, pay homage to Everest, then cycle out through Nepal, Pakistan, India—maybe even reach Europe.

As he spoke, he pulled out a rock-hard bun, broke off a piece, slapped on two pickled vegetables, and chewed it slowly. Then carefully rewrapped the rest in a plastic bag and put it back in his pack.

The boss urged him to eat more and was shocked to learn that the bun had to last another two meals.

This boss had grown up in a spiritually barren era. By the time he had money to chase dreams, he no longer had the energy. Seeing someone like Thirteen stirred something in him. He felt like he was looking at his younger self.

He decided to sponsor him. He didn’t have much cash on him, so he pooled some from his friends together, they gave Thirteen 13,000 yuan.

Thirteen was moved. He asked the boss to sign his flag and said, “I’ll take this flag with me around the world, and your name will be there.”

If there’d been an ATM on Zheduo Mountain, the boss might’ve given him another ten or twenty grand.

That should’ve been the end of it. But more than a year later, fate reunited them at the “Gather by Chance” bar.

Thirteen had changed his look—now he wore a floral bandana, a white shirt, and ripped jeans. Gone was the sunburned traveler. The boss didn’t recognize him until Thirteen gave himself away.

Bragging loudly to a bunch of new bar-hopping buddies, he said,
“These days, a lot of rich guys are into driving the Sichuan-Tibet Highway or climbing mountains—it’s all about the vibes. I’ve studied them. They’ve got money, they’re nostalgic, and they’re old. Perfect marks. You gotta sell them dreams. I used to hang out along the highway and approach anyone with out-of-town plates. They’d give me snacks, drinks—Red Bull, Vitamin Water. I even made almost 800 yuan just reselling that stuff. One of them—get this—gave me thirteen thousand yuan!”

That Zhejiang boss had been sitting at a nearby table. He’d been enjoying the story… until he realized who was talking. At the final line, he flipped the table and launched himself at Thirteen like a teenager.

…

Mu Dai stared at Huo Zihong.
“Auntie Hong, kindness needs to be used wisely. That guy should’ve been jailed, and you paid for him instead.”

Huo Zihong smiled.
“Not exactly a handout. He’s been working at the bar for a year to pay off the 13,000. It balances out.”

Mu Dai rested her chin on the back of the chair.
“Not only soft-hearted, but you brought a wolf into the house.”

“Don’t be so quick to judge. Thirteen’s been doing a good job lately.”

Mu Dai scoffed.
“I’ll bet my head he’s pulling something shady—either with the books or the stock.”

“People can change. Don’t be so black-and-white, Mu Dai. That’s your biggest flaw—you’re too rigid.”

Mu Dai didn’t respond. After a while, her mood shifted.
“Whatever. If you’re okay with it, I won’t argue. I mean… I’m just someone you adopted. I shouldn’t talk to you like that. I’ll do better.”

Huo Zihong paused, then sighed deeply. She handed Mu Dai a piece of paper.
“Mu Dai, I need you to go to this place. If you can, leave tomorrow.”

“Okay.”

After a short silence, Mu Dai added, “I’ll head back to my room and start packing.”

That was her style. Normally, she’d ask—what’s the trip for, who to find, what the task was. But when she was down, she only said one word:
“Okay.”

Huo Zihong stood at the door, watching Mu Dai disappear down the stairs. Uncle Zhang came up with a broom and a dustpan. As he swept past Huo Zihong’s room, she said quietly,
“Sometimes, I worry about that girl. She doesn’t let anyone get close.”

Uncle Zhang didn’t look up.
“Normal. She was three or four when she was adopted. Kids from places like that… they’ve suffered. I remember she was allergic to peaches. You gave her one when she first got here, and she took it right away, chomped down without hesitation.”

Huo Zihong murmured,
“Yeah… that first half year, she never touched meat at meals. If I said a dish was good, she’d avoid it. She was just a little kid, but already carrying all that.”

Her voice dropped with emotion.
“If it weren’t for what happened eight years ago, she might’ve turned out very different.”

Uncle Zhang straightened up, cracking his back.
“To be honest, our little boss lady’s doing pretty great now. Really. You should see the stories on the news—compared to those, she’s doing amazing.”

Footsteps creaked on the stairs. Thirteen flinched and shut the browser in a flash.

Mu Dai came down, face like stone. She wasn’t planning to say anything, but paused at the bar and said,
“I’m going to Chongqing tomorrow.”

“Really?”
Thirteen lit up, then realized he was a little too enthusiastic. He quickly lowered his voice and tried to sound disappointed.
“Aw, man. Gonna be a few days before I see you again.”

What he wanted to say was: Go ahead. Stay gone.

Mu Dai smiled faintly, just enough to make Thirteen uncomfortable. He got the message: don’t get cocky.

He glanced nervously at the two suspicious bottles on the shelf.

Later, walking past Mu Dai’s room, he noticed her door was half-open. Inside was an open suitcase. One side was full of cute stuff—colorful toiletry bags with cat faces, elephant-print tees, fringe boots, shell and bell bracelets. The other side was all black. Everything. Clothes, accessories, everything.

Thirteen muttered to himself,
That woman’s dangerous. Crazy dangerous.