Chapter 3

In the rain, the man jumped higher and higher, faster and faster, and even began to change all sorts of postures in the air.

One hand off the barre, two hands off the barre, arms flapping like wings, rotating 180 degrees, head tilted back to the sky, Chang'e flying to the moon, Dunhuang flying apsaras, ballet hand positions...

"Divine Gold..." Han Shu murmured to himself, so stunned by the scene before him that he forgot to look away.

Why is this handsome guy playing on the bouncy pole in the yard during a typhoon?

Mr. Question, of course, did not answer; he was completely enjoying the moment.

Han Shu watched for as long as he jumped. Towards the end, he even became numb, dragging a stool to sit by the window, propping his chin up and enjoying this wonderful and dazzling performance in the rain.

As she looked around, she suddenly remembered that half of the yard was brick and the other half was planted with flowers and plants, which was the land.

Han Shu clicked his tongue, "If you accidentally step off course, then what—"

Before she could finish speaking, she clearly saw the bouncy pole plunge into the mud, and Mr. Problem flew forward in a graceful motion, face down, splattering face-first into the dirt.

Han Shu: ...?

She was unsure whether to marvel at the blessed mouth or feel sorry for it.

Where did this aloof, refined, and handsome guy go?!

God, why did she have to see this?! She just wanted to admire beautiful things from afar, why?!

The fall was quite hard, and it took the man a while to get up. Just when Han Shu thought his day's childlike fun was about to end, he wiped his face, picked up the bouncy pole, and continued jumping. However, having learned his lesson, his posture became more proper, and he stayed away from the flowers and plants.

Han Shu silently applauded his persistence, then quickly drew the curtains, climbed into bed, and prayed that she could forget everything when the next morning came.

It turns out that scientists were right: memories stored up to an hour before sleep are repeatedly reviewed by the cerebral cortex. In short, they are remembered better.

When Han Shu opened his eyes, he was devastated to find that the image of Mr. Problem leaping out of the water and landing face-first on the ground was still playing on a loop in his mind.

"...Oh no, I can't look at handsome guys the same way anymore."

Han Shu ruffled her slightly frizzy short hair, pulled out her phone, and screamed to her best friend to express her feelings.

[Han Shu: Aaaaaaaahhhhh!]

[Han Shu: Do you know what our aloof, refined, and handsome landlord did last night?!]

Today is a workday, and even Ling Lin, who is usually sleep-deprived, has to get up early, which is why she was able to reply instantly.

[Ling Lin: What did he do? What did the handsome guy do? Anything a handsome guy does can be forgiven!]

[Han Shu: He was playing on a bouncy pole in the middle of the night during a typhoon! And he fell flat on his face!]

The "typing" indicator at the top of the chat interface flashed four or five times—

Ling Lin: ………………

[Ling Lin: Goodbye.]

Very well, she's not the only one feeling regretful now.

After washing up, Han Shu drew back the curtains and was shocked by the sight before her. The gloomy sky made it impossible to tell whether it was day or night. The yard was littered with tree stumps, bricks, tiles, and stones that had flown in from who-knows-where, while torrential rain swept across the land in an almost parallel line.

The typhoon was about to make landfall, and this was the first time Han Shu had been in the typhoon.

She watched for a while longer, then suddenly remembered the unfortunate car owner. With the windshield smashed, wouldn't all the rain have leaked into the car?

She tried calling the car owner again. Surprisingly, she got through this time.

"Hello?" came a gentle, magnetic male voice.

"Hello." Han Shu cleared his throat. "Um... I passed by yesterday and saw that your car was hit by tree branches. I called to remind you to deal with it promptly."

A deep laugh rang out from the other end. "You're the kind girl who wiped the back of my car and then pressed her face against the window?"

"..." Han Shu froze.

"My car was in Sentry Mode. But don't worry, I'll definitely delete this video when I get back to Hainan Island. Thank you!"

Han Shu said it was okay, and then hurriedly hung up the phone.

She's such a busybody! How embarrassing!

My stomach growled.

It's okay, she comforted herself. Anyway, she and the car owner were strangers, and neither of them knew each other. So what if it was awkward?

Han Shu hesitated for a moment, but still decided to go to the kitchen. She opened the door, cautiously peered into the living room, and only stepped out after confirming that there was no man in sight.

"morning."

The sound came almost from my feet.

Han Shu suddenly leaned against the door panel, looked down, and jumped three feet high on the spot.

"What the hell are you doing here?!" She clutched her heart, almost bursting into tears.

Han Shu's room was at the top of the stairs. Mr. Problem was lying upside down on the stairs connecting the first and second floors, with his hands folded over his lower abdomen. He looked quite comfortable.

But Han Shu couldn't feel comfortable at all!

Who knows what it feels like to open the door first thing in the morning and see a head at your feet!

The man remained silent until she quieted down, then slowly said, "Second question. Your husband accidentally pushed you off the stairs, and you're lying here, the last thing you see is the cracked roof. What would you be thinking in your final moments?"

Perhaps because the incident with the jumping pole was so shocking, lying face down on the stairs didn't seem so strange anymore. Han Shu quickly regained his composure.

Sure enough, they only speak when asked questions. However, when the landlord comes to collect rent, the tenants still need to cooperate.

She peeked at the ceiling—it was perfectly intact, without a single crack. She didn't quite understand the symbolism of the crack, but she tried to answer anyway, "I'll see my husband's face, as broken as the ceiling."

That was such a strange answer; she was a little embarrassed after she finished speaking.

Mr. Problem sat up, rotated his buttocks 180 degrees on that step, and bent his long legs to stand in front of her.

The man was dressed in a hoodie and sweatpants, loosely draped over his shoulders, revealing a sliver of his collarbone, his hair falling smoothly against his forehead. He glanced at Han Shu, a strange sense of approval in his eyes. "There are ingredients in the white refrigerator."

After saying that, he nodded and walked towards the kitchen first.

Han Shu looked completely bewildered.

What does this mean? Does it mean that they think they answered well, so they're condescending to say a few more words?

But she followed anyway.

People need food to survive, so she needs to eat breakfast.

The guesthouse's kitchen fit Han Shu's stereotype of wealthy people: it was open-plan with a marble countertop in the middle, and everything in sight was spotless, not to mention there was no cooking fumes.

"Um..."

The man opened the double-door refrigerator, and whether he heard him or not, he didn't turn around or respond.

So Han Shu tentatively asked, "Mr. Question?"

The man's back visibly froze, the veins on the back of his hand gripping the doorframe bulging. After a long while, he turned to the side and said, "My surname is Wen."

Han Shu sensed that he was gritting his teeth, so he shrank back and quickly corrected himself, "Mr. Wen."

This time, the man faced her directly, his dark eyes filled with displeasure. "Wen Zhiyu."

"Mr. Wen," Han Shu nodded politely, "My name is Han Shu—"

“Wen Zhiyu,” Wen Zhiyu said.

Han Shu blinked, and Wen Zhiyu blinked in the same frequency, then said, "Wen Zhiyu."

Han Shu suddenly realized, "Oh, oh, oh, Wen Zhiyu."

Wen Zhiyu then turned back, satisfied, and started picking through the refrigerator.

Han Shu muttered to himself for the Nth time: What a strange person.

Calling him Mr. Problem might be a bit embarrassing, but what's wrong with calling him Mr. Wen?

My stomach growled again.

She shook her head and got back to the point, "Wen Zhiyu, may I cook in your kitchen?"

"Whatever." Wen Zhiyu closed the refrigerator, picked up a few lunch boxes, and walked towards the steam oven behind her. "The housekeeper is on leave these few days, so you'll have to take care of the cleaning yourself."

"Okay." After receiving confirmation, Han Shu opened the mini-fridge next to the double-door refrigerator, which was not even as tall as her.

Although the refrigerator for guests is unassuming in appearance, it is well-stocked with a variety of ingredients, including meat, eggs, dairy products, vegetables, and fruits.

She quickly made herself a sandwich with asparagus, nuts, and cherry tomatoes, and a glass of fresh hot milk.

Han Shu happily took a picture and sent it to Ling Lin, boasting about the breakfast's appearance and abundance, and making a small complaint about Mr. Problem's unhealthy habit of eating instant food, before taking it to the dining room. At a row of three-seater tables, Wen Zhiyu sat opposite him in the middle and had already started eating.

She swore she only glanced at it casually—

Very well, you've brought this humiliation upon yourself.

Three petal-shaped side dishes contain delicate side dishes: peeled shrimp, black pepper ham, and luncheon meat are neatly arranged on a black plate with a rock-like texture. Another white plate contains two xiaolongbao (soup dumplings) and two siu mai (steamed dumplings).

The man was holding a spoon with a chicken wing-shaped wooden handle, drinking a colorful bowl of nourishing porridge. He ate politely but quickly; by the time Han Shu pulled out a chair and sat down, he had already finished half a bowl of porridge.

It's true that money can buy anything; even pre-made meals are so exquisite.

After a moment of reflection, Han Shu focused on enjoying his somewhat hastily prepared breakfast.

As a typical overworked office worker, she ate at lightning speed, often getting called away halfway through her meal. So, after finishing the last bite of bread, drinking the last drop of milk, and wiping her mouth with a tissue, she met Wen Zhiyu's somewhat bewildered gaze.

He rarely uttered three words, but he did, "In a hurry?"

Han Shu quickly waved his hand, "I eat quickly, please take your time."

She finished clearing the dishes and was about to wash them when, mindful of the rent, she politely asked, "Perhaps... do you have any other questions?"

Upon hearing this, Han Shu realized that something was wrong with her too. How could she have accepted this strange way of making a deal so readily?

Wen Zhiyu glanced at her, put down his chopsticks, and said, "Third question. You prepare a sumptuous dinner to entertain your guests, but your husband won't let you eat at the table and only gives you leftovers. What would you do?"

This question immediately brought back memories of Han Shu's grandmother. Her grandmother came from a rural area, couldn't afford school, and married young. However, her husband and mother-in-law treated her badly, making her do a lot of chores but not allowing her to eat at the table. Although her husband later died young, she single-handedly raised Han Shu's father, sending him to university and enabling him to live a comfortable life, she still shed tears when she talked about the past.

Han Shu swiftly raised her fork, staring intently at Wen Zhiyu, her almond-shaped eyes blazing with fury. "I'll poke his eyes with my chopsticks when he's not looking! Ungrateful bastards deserve to be blind!"

Wen Zhiyu moved his lips and swallowed.

Han Shu suddenly realized that he looked different from yesterday.

To be precise, the lips look a little different. Yesterday they were thin lips with a sharp shape, but today they have a more blunt, Western-style lip.

It turns out he had fallen and his arm was swollen.

"puff--"

Han Shu quickly put down his fork, pursed his lips, and tried to suppress his laughter, but the more he knew he shouldn't laugh, the less he could hold it in. Finally, the goose inside him broke free of its seal and burst into laughter, its hands supporting it on the table.

Wen Zhiyu's pupils contracted slightly, his handsome face unusually blank. Amidst the long, drawn-out honking of geese, he moved the unfinished plate to the right and slowly shifted himself to the chair furthest from her.

Han Shu, seeing this, almost laughed even harder, but quickly patted his face to calm down. "Given that I'll be staying here for a long time, I have a question I'd like to ask you."

Wen Zhiyu's brows slowly but firmly furrowed into a deep frown. "What do you mean?"

Han Shu had loved twirling pens since his student days, and with a fork in hand, he would habitually start spinning them, the dazzling movements accompanied by the blinding cold light. "Living in such a nice villa, one should be very rich, so why open a bed and breakfast? What's the point of those questions?"

Wen Zhiyu slammed down his chopsticks and stood up. “The significance is that I can collect all kinds of brains.”

After saying that, he turned and left, walking very fast as if he were being chased, followed by the sound of the door slamming shut.

Han Shu's smile froze on his face.

All sorts of...brains?

What is he doing running off to without even eating? Is this a threat?

She rushed back to her room, locked the door, and sent a WeChat voice message to Ling Lin with trembling hands.

"What should I do? What should I do? This landlord is so strange! He asked me so many questions, so I asked him why he needed these answers, and he said he collects brains!!! Is he some kind of Chinese Hannibal Lecter?!"

Above Han Shu's room, Wen Zhiyu was sitting on a stool in the corner of the study, making a phone call.

After two busy tones, the call was answered.

"Hey bro, you finally called back! Why did you park my car at the intersection?! Don't you know there's a typhoon?! Trees fell on my car—"

"Listen to me first!" Wen Zhiyu ruffled his hair and anxiously rubbed his trouser leg. "Top emergency! The new guest is really strange!"