…Did that viewer pay the bill in the end?

Luo Zhi really couldn’t dig up any memory fragments this time.

He had been simply too exhausted; he passed out before he could even wait for an answer, and had absolutely no recollection of what happened afterward.

However, judging from the context, Luo Zhi must have encountered a very kind-hearted person.

The shadowy figure didn’t just leave, nor did they treat him as a mentally deranged patient and forcibly send him to a hospital or police station. Instead, they brought Luo Zhi to a very nice hotel, booked a room, and let Luo Zhi have a peaceful sleep.

It was also possible that the smell of alcohol on Luo Zhi at the time made the atmosphere too realistic. Under those circumstances, the most reasonable deduction for any normal person would be that this person was drunk to the point of unconsciousness and talking nonsense.

Luo Zhi looked at the bathrobe with the hotel logo on him. He fumbled around the collar for a moment, found the shattered glass pendant he had asked someone to make a few days ago, and held it in his palm.

Perhaps because it had been a long time since he rested so relaxedly, his mind was very clear. Although there were still large blanks in his memory, at least his thoughts were organized. It wasn’t like the past few days, where he felt lost, as if walking in an endless, dense fog.

There were only traces of himself in the room; the person who brought him here wasn’t there.

None of his belongings had been taken. His guitar leaned against the door, the tripod and easel were placed in the living room. His backpack was hung upside down on the coat rack, and the contents were spread out on the table to dry…

The document bag.

A waterproof sealed document bag was missing.

Luo Zhi stopped in front of the desk.

Inside the document bag were the original script, the copyright contract, and the transfer contract he had already drafted. Luo Zhi had been carrying it with him all along, all stamped with seals; the transferee only needed to sign their name for it to take effect.

After all, it was such a good script; it was a pity for it to be wasted in his hands.

Since he really couldn’t exchange it for a boat ticket, Luo Zhi had indeed decided not to force it anymore and prepared to give it to a suitable person, letting it serve its intended purpose.

…

Did he just give it away yesterday?

Luo Zhi reached out and supported himself on the edge of the desk, his fingertips lightly tapping the warm, solid wood desk that was obviously expensive, trying to piece together the logic of his actions.

He promoted his painting to his sole audience, quoting a very high price, and insisted on an “En” sound, representing an acknowledgment that he had never done anything bad.

The other party paid the bill, so he gave away all his belongings.

Because the other party bought his painting, he felt that this viewer friend had quite high taste in artistic appreciation, so buy one get one free, he generously gave away this script…

Luo Zhi stopped his thoughts and lightly bit the tip of his tongue.

Oh no.

This sounds like something Huo Miao would do.

He propped his forehead with his hand, sighed lightly with a bit of distress, and unconsciously pursed his lips into a secret smile.

A headache tugged at his nerves throbbingly, but it didn’t bring the usual dizziness and nausea.

Luo Zhi closed one eye, tilted his head, skillfully adjusted his breathing, and slowly rubbed his temples.

He didn’t even know if the other party was in the film industry, and he felt he should first wring his hands in regret, repenting for his impulsive actions when his mind wasn’t clear last night.

But the smile just couldn’t be controlled from bubbling up… like suddenly stealing a piece of candy when caught off guard.

Would someone really be willing to pay such an outrageous price?

They had to believe he hadn’t done bad things, eh.

They had to say “En”.

Since they paid, why didn’t they take the other things?

Didn’t like them?

That painting was also left on the sofa, not taken away…

Thinking of this, Luo Zhi suddenly shuddered as if a nerve in his brain had been pulled, sucking in a breath like he had a toothache.

…What mess was he thinking about.

Calling that thing a painting was already outrageous enough.

Luo Zhi’s mind was clear now, and he himself couldn’t bear to recall the dashing style he put on with every stroke during his immersive painting session.

It was just that his current body didn’t allow him to run and jump, nor did it allow for huge emotional fluctuations. If it were the old Luo Zhi, he would probably be steaming from the tips of his ears all the way down his collar to the base of his neck, change his clothes, rush downstairs, and run three laps in one breath out of respect.

Fortunately, it wasn’t taken away.

Luo Zhi resolved to destroy this evidence immediately.

He squatted in front of the sofa, removed the canvas from the easel, turned the dried backpack inside out, balled up the canvas, and stuffed it inside whole, planning to find a deserted place to dispose of it after leaving.

His physical strength was very poor now. Just doing these things, his arms were so tired he could barely lift them. The backpack straps slipped from his fingers that had no strength, and the backpack fell off the sofa entirely, rolling a few times before stopping by the bed.

Luo Zhi failed to catch the backpack, his body swaying with the motion, and he fell heavily.

His vision blurred into a mix of bright and dark, large patches of light scattered irregularly amidst blurry color blocks like spilled varnish.

Luo Zhi closed his eyes, resting his forehead on his arms, waiting for the cold sweat brought on by the palpitations to slowly recede.

He had to save his strength. His current state was already the best it had been in days.

He was sober enough, and he knew who he was.

As long as he concentrated and read slowly, he could even barely make out the content of the text on the hotel notices.

He couldn’t waste this time.

Luo Zhi pressed the heel of his palm hard against his heart a few times, maintaining a steady speed as he slowly propped himself up.

He still didn’t open his eyes, reaching out to grope towards where he remembered the table was a few times. After confirming the outline of a candy, he used his fingertips to hook it little by little into his palm.

The next moment, a new wave of dizziness engulfed Luo Zhi, causing the arm supporting his body to suddenly lose strength.

But Luo Zhi had long been prepared. He had gauged the angle quite well. Although he completely lost his balance, he fell right into the sofa, clutching the candy.

Perfect.

One hundred points.

Luo Zhi fell into a field of bright white vision.

He lay there motionless, looking up, his chest heaving rapidly for a while. When he regained a bit of mobility, he raised his hand and brought the candy’s plastic wrapper to his mouth.

This was also experience. Once when Luo Zhi had hypoglycemia, his hands shook so badly that they couldn’t coordinate to tear open a candy wrapper no matter what.

Later, he discovered that using his teeth to bite it open was more efficient, so he further optimized the process, no longer wasting time on this step.

Luo Zhi bit the plastic wrapper, applying force bit by bit, tore a small opening, and then slowly bit the candy out.

Peach flavor.

Perfection within perfection.

Today is so happy.

Luo Zhi let out a long, comfortable sigh.

He sucked on the candy, waiting for the sweet peach aroma to completely fill his mouth, then touched his earlobe as a reward, opening his eyes with satisfaction.

The backpack looked quite aggrieved, collapsed in a soft heap at the foot of the bed.

Although it was just a randomly bought hiking bag, Luo Zhi had, after all, gone through hardships with it for several days. He still apologized gently for getting it rained on yesterday and dropping it today, then propped himself up to retrieve the backpack.

As he grabbed the straps to lift it, Luo Zhi’s movement suddenly paused.

Inside the backpack’s inner pocket, there was actually a piece of stiff paper-like object.

Because the zipper wasn’t closed, when the backpack rolled onto the carpet, that piece of paper fell onto the carpet as well.

Luo Zhi was stunned for a while before reaching out to pick it up.

It was the boat ticket he had always wanted to exchange his script for.

A VIP First Class ticket, allowing entry even to the captain’s cabin, a grade better than the one he wanted to buy himself.

…

Things were just this coincidental. He met a person, this person had a good heart, and happened to have an even better boat ticket.

Perhaps it wasn’t entirely a coincidence.

Luo Zhi had been changing locations constantly these past few days. Although there was no clear purpose in terms of a specific route, the general direction had always been instinctively towards the seaside.

Especially the station where he painted yesterday; it was already the last stop on the coastal line. Taking the bus to the terminal would lead to the port.

Luo Zhi pinched the boat ticket and slowly walked to the window.

The hotel turned out to be so close to the sea. Standing here, he could already see the distant sea level.

It was a pity that the weather had been bad lately. Both the sea and the sky were a cold leaden gray, joined together in the misty spray.

The tall silhouettes of several port cranes stood at the edge of the skyline.

It wasn’t a climate suitable for vacationing. Those staying in a hotel here at this time, if not tourists waiting to board a ship, were likely senior crew members joining a ship here.

Regardless of which, the probability of having a boat ticket in hand wasn’t small.

As long as they knew a little about the situation in the film industry and could see the value of the script in his hand, they would likely be willing to exchange with him.

Luo Zhi stood by the window, looked at the boat ticket, and reached out to touch it.

The corner of the paper poked his finger and suddenly sprang away, scratching a very tiny, very sharp bit of pain.

Waking up to find his wish fulfilled, Luo Zhi felt he should be happier, even happier than just now.

He held the boat ticket, trying to muster up emotion, but more thoughts jumped out noisily, leaving him unsure which one to command the little squirrel to eat first.

…

So the script wasn’t generously given away by him.

So the payment was put in the backpack, but he really couldn’t find that part of his memory, so he hadn’t discovered it just now.

The other party took the script, left the boat ticket, and didn’t take any of the remaining belongings.

So that painting really wasn’t successfully promoted.

Good, good.

After all, he had just hardened his heart and was preparing to destroy the canvas to eliminate the evidence.

Amused by himself, Luo Zhi raised the corner of his mouth again, moved his right leg which was stiffening up again a couple of times, and once it regained flexibility, slowly walked back to the sofa and sat down, relaxing his body.

He probably spaced out for too long. When he touched his phone and lit up the screen, he found several missed calls, the most recent one just a few seconds ago.

Luo Zhi looked at the somewhat familiar number.

While he was still trying to recall who this was, a text message sent from this number popped up at the top of the phone screen.

[Luo Zhi, come home.]

[It’s Ren Chenbai.]

…

Luo Zhi was dragged back to reality.

He frowned in confusion, looking at the two lines of words that couldn’t be shorter.

His brain was still clear at this moment. Luo Zhi understood it with just a glance, not surprised that Ren Chenbai could find this phone number of his.

In fact, what was surprising was that Ren Chenbai had looked for him for so long.

Although Luo Zhi had been hiding, he had too many things to do, and it was hard to maintain his current state of sufficient clarity at all times. There were still many clues that could be traced.

Just that script put up for exchange for a boat ticket—anyone who knew a little inside information could guess it was him, and subsequently get his new phone number.

…Not to mention, Li Weiming’s fans would broadcast their deeds of punishing evil and promoting good in the Super Topic at the drop of a hat, and there were even some radical small groups trying to block Luo Zhi for revenge.

Connect the location points a bit, and the movement route comes out.

With Ren Chenbai’s ability and efficiency, not finding him for so long, Luo Zhi could only attribute it to his own good luck, or that the other party was tied up by something.

Confused, Luo Zhi blocked the number and deleted those two inexplicable messages.

For a few years, Luo Zhi’s greatest wish was probably to receive these two text messages.

He really didn’t know what exactly he had done wrong, how big of a mistake it had to be, for everything to reach that point later on.

Sometimes Luo Zhi would dream, dream that he could go home again. He would accompany Auntie Ren to make dim sum at home, Brother Chenbai would pass by the door, ruffle his hair, and smile as he wiped the flour off his face.

But these kinds of dreams would gradually decrease and even disappear as the related impressions were personally erased by the person himself.

Since a long time ago, Luo Zhi hadn’t had this kind of dream again.

Later on, Ren Chenbai no longer hid his hatred for him, and Luo Zhi no longer expected things he couldn’t get.

…What did Ren Chenbai want him to go to the Ren family for?

To buy the script from him?

If he hadn’t thought of this, Luo Zhi might have almost forgotten.

He opened the backend of the trading app where the script for the boat ticket exchange was listed, changed the status to [Sold], clicked away the little red dots of messages one by one, and clicked open the calendar memo to take a look.

Tomorrow was the day the cruise ship docked.

Might as well set off for the seaside right now.

Luo Zhi supported himself on the sofa and stood up.

His body seemed encouraged by this plan, cooperatively mustering some strength. It allowed him to change his clothes, pack his things one by one, and put all the odds and ends on the table into his backpack.

When he picked up his phone again, the number texting him had changed to another one.

[The house at Wanghai, I have something to discuss with you.]

[Before tonight.]

Luo Zhi sighed lightly. Just as he was about to block this number as well, the last message popped up.

[Mom left something for you.]

Luo Zhi’s fingertips paused slightly.

He unconsciously tapped the screen lightly twice, but still very slowly continued the previous operation, blocking the number and deleting the text message.

He performed the last step several times. Perhaps his hands were too cold, or maybe because he couldn’t exert any strength, the screen didn’t react even after pressing it three times.

Luo Zhi fumbled around his neck, grasping his shattered glass pendant.

Wanghai was the Ren family’s villa by the sea, not far from here. Ren Chenbai had likely already figured out his general whereabouts.

Ren Chenbai wouldn’t do anything good for him.

He certainly knew this was a trap. He wanted very much to jump into this trap. Just thinking of that car, a burning pain rose from his bones. Sometimes when he woke up from a nightmare, he even suspected if a part of himself had been crushed into scrap and pushed into the smelting furnace along with it.

But no, he had to protect himself. Even if he missed home, even if he wanted to see Auntie Ren’s things, he couldn’t.

He couldn’t fall for Ren Chenbai’s trick, couldn’t be hurt by Ren Chenbai.

It couldn’t be Ren Chenbai.

Auntie Ren would be sad if she knew.

He couldn’t stay in this hotel either. Anyway, the cruise ship would come in just one night; he could just wait by the seaside.

Luo Zhi delayed no longer. He put on his baseball cap properly and slung his backpack over his shoulder.

He hesitated for a moment at the door but still didn’t take the guitar and easel, only arranging them neatly side by side on the coffee table.

Hotels of this level would have very thoughtful and detailed service. Things left in the room would be strictly and properly preserved, contacting the guest to pick them up, or mailing them according to the address.

Although checking in mostly required his ID card, and for convenience, that card had been in his pants pocket these past few days… but not everyone liked reading the entertainment section. The other party most likely didn’t know who he was or what kind of reputation he had out there.

As for whether they would know later, whether the situation would suddenly become very bad like every time before, spiraling downwards into a messy ending, whether the other party would regret saving the wrong person…

Based on experience, they most likely would. But it didn’t matter; at least up until now, he was truly happy.

Since he couldn’t recall more details from yesterday anyway, let him be boldly delusional and deceive himself once. Believe that pretending aside from the script, the other transaction was also truly completed.

A stranger who didn’t know him believed he had never done anything bad, answered “En”, and so according to the agreement, received all his belongings.

Because he was in a good mood, he generously gifted the script to the other party.

Because the other party was also in a good mood and wanted to meet him again to be friends, they gave him a boat ticket.

It was just that due to an urgent matter, the gentleman who bought his belongings had to leave immediately, so he only took the script and forgot the other things in the room.

…

It was a bit convoluted, and maybe a little irrational, but wasn’t this also very logical?

He wondered if that Mr. Shadow who did a good deed daily would feel baffled upon receiving the hotel’s call, or if he would indifferently instruct the hotel to handle it themselves, letting these belongings be thrown away as trash.

But these matters had little to do with him anymore.

Luo Zhi touched the guitar again. He closed his eyes, resting his forehead against the nut of the guitar, and squatted quietly for a while.

He hoped this Mr. Shadow knew his stuff.

The guitar wasn’t worth much, just three hundred yuan bought from a roadside music shop. But inside the gig bag were several songs. After Luo Zhi was blackened by the whole internet, he never recorded or released them again, and he was always reluctant to sell them.

According to the prices offered by several music companies, selling just one randomly would be enough to stay in an expensive hotel for a month.

Luo Zhi hugged his backpack. His arms unconsciously exerted force until they trembled slightly, squeezing the ball of crumpled painting.

Luo Zhi tried to make that acknowledging nasal sound. He couldn’t hear his own voice, so he didn’t even know if he succeeded.

How could he have not done bad things? He was a coward, even refusing to look at the things Auntie Ren left him because he was afraid of stepping into a trap.

He would go apologize to Auntie Ren in person in a few days.

Luo Zhi lightly raised the corner of his mouth.

Relying on the fact that he remembered nothing, he lay on the coffee table, using the hotel pencil to sketch a drawing on the guest notepad bit by bit—a sketch he felt very good about.

He drew exceptionally well this time.

He focused on finishing the last stroke, and then brazenly took this scene as real, imprinting it in his mind.

Mr. Shadow bent his shoulder, tilting the umbrella over his head.

Saying “En” to him.