Daily Intelligence: Forced to Save the Beautiful President at the Beginning

6: Chapter 6 The Subtle Warmth in LifeWalking back from Peoples Square, the night wind grew colder. Zhang Fan gripped the necklace tightly in his palm; the metallic chill seeping through his fingers cleared his head a bit. He had to get his parents’ belongings back first.

In the old alley where his rental was located, the streetlights flickered, and old furniture discarded by others was piled against the base of the walls.

He climbed to the third floor and lifted the tattered cloth covering the pile of sundries in the hallway. Sure enough, his suitcase and snakeskin bag were both lying there.

”Thank goodness...” Zhang Fan breathed a sigh of relief, squatting down to pat off the dust. The snakeskin bag contained his clothes, and his parents’ leather suitcase hadn’t been touched either.

He bundled everything back up, hoisted it onto his shoulder, and walked toward the mouth of the alley. Passing Sister Li’s fruit stand, the light was still on inside the plastic canopy. Sister Li and her husband were settling accounts; she only glanced at him carrying his luggage and turned back without a word.

Zhang Fan walked past quickly with his head down, carrying the snakeskin bag on his shoulder and dragging the suitcase. The zipper rattled ”clatter-clatter,” and he panted from the exertion. The streetlights stretched his shadow long, merging with the silhouette of the luggage like a clumsy snail.

”Old man, do you know if there are any cheap hotels nearby?” Seeing a pedicab soliciting customers by the roadside, Zhang Fan asked the driver for advice.

The bald old man in the driver’s seat leaned out, his reading glasses sliding to the tip of his nose as he sized Zhang Fan up. ”With all those bags, did you just arrive from out of town?”

”No, I used to live nearby. I’m moving and just need a temporary place to stay.” Zhang Fan tugged at his sweat-soaked shirt.

”It’s past 10 PM; regular hotels have all raised their prices.” The old man tapped the handlebars. ”There’s a ’Pingan Hostel’ in the alley ahead. The owner is a distant niece of mine; she’s easy to talk to and will give you a cheaper rate.” He paused and gestured toward the luggage with his chin. ”Want me to drive you? That looks heavy.”

Zhang Fan quickly waved his hand. ”No, no need. I can get there myself. It’s not far, right?”

”Not far, just two turns away.” The old man got off the bike anyway and patted the cargo bed. ”Hop on. I’m just about to finish work and go home; it’s on my way.”

”This...” Zhang Fan hesitated. He only had a few dozen yuan left in his pocket and really couldn’t afford the fare.

”I won’t charge you.” The old man saw through his embarrassment, bending down to grab the snakeskin bag. ”The wheels on your suitcase are about to fall off; it’s a struggle to drag it.”

His parents’ leather suitcase was packed with many things and was heavy even when he pulled it himself. Yet the old man picked it up like an empty basket, tossed it into the cargo bed, then took the snakeskin bag and wedged it into a corner with a ”click.” His movements were too agile for an old man.

”Get on.” The old man straddled the driver’s seat and patted the back.

Zhang Fan didn’t refuse again and carefully sat down. The pedicab sputtered to life and slowly swayed through the narrow alley.

The night wind blew past his ears, carrying the sweet scent of roasted sweet potatoes. The old man hummed an out-of-tune Bangzi opera, and the luggage in the back bumped gently with the jolts, though it didn’t feel too bumpy.

”Young man, having a hard time?” the old man suddenly asked, his eyes fixed on the road ahead.

”Yeah...” Zhang Fan responded vaguely, not wanting to say much.

”It’s fine, everyone hits a snag sometimes.” The old man smiled. ”When I was young, I broke my leg at a construction site and was bedridden for three months. I thought my life was over, but didn’t I make it through?”

The pedicab turned into an even narrower alley. At the end, a dim yellow light glowed, and the sign for ”Pingan Hostel” hung crookedly. The old man stopped the bike at the entrance, jumped off nimbly, hoisted the snakeskin bag onto his shoulder, picked up the suitcase, and walked straight into the hostel.

”Niece, get this young man a room, the cheapest kind.”

Fat Auntie, who was cracking melon seeds, looked up. Seeing the old man, she stood up with a smile. ”Third Uncle, is this a friend of yours?”

”No, just someone I met on the road. He’s having a tough time.” The old man placed the luggage in the corner and patted the dust off his hands. ”Give him a lower price.”

”Alright, for Third Uncle’s sake, 100 yuan a night for a standard room.”

Zhang Fan hurried to take out his money, but the old man pressed his hand down. ”Settle in first; if you don’t have enough, we’ll talk later.” With that, he winked at him, turned, and got back on his pedicab. ”I’m off. Call me if you need anything; the bike is parked at the intersection.”

”Old man, thank you!” Zhang Fan chased after him for two steps, watching the pedicab sputter and disappear at the alley entrance, his heart feeling warm.

Fat Auntie looked at him and smiled. ”That’s just how my Third Uncle is; he can’t stand to see young people suffer.”

Zhang Fan touched the necklace in his pocket. The metallic chill mingled with the warmth from just now. He suddenly felt that in this cold night, it wasn’t all freezing wind.

Fat Auntie led the way with a bunch of keys, the wooden stairs creaking under their feet.

”Second floor, Room 203. It’s just been cleaned, it’s tidy.” When she pushed open the door, Zhang Fan was stunned—he had expected a hostel in an old alley to smell of mold, but the room was surprisingly bright.

The floor was polished enough to reflect the light from the ceiling, and the white sheets on the two single beds were flat and smooth, with the corners tucked in meticulously.

On the small table by the window sat a glass jar with two dried flowers inside. A small pothos plant was on the windowsill, its leaves dotted with water droplets, looking vibrant.

”Don’t mind the old alley; I’m very particular about this place.” Fat Auntie placed the key on the table and pointed to the kettle in the corner. ”Tea leaves are in the drawer—black tea and flower tea, help yourself. The bottled water was just brought from the supermarket downstairs; it’s free.”

Zhang Fan looked at the two neatly packaged bags of tea in the drawer and glanced at the two bottles of mineral water on the nightstand, a wave of warmth rising in his heart. He had thought a 100-yuan room would be lucky to have a clean bed, but this was more comfortable than many star-rated hotels he’d stayed in before.

”Thank you, Auntie.”

”You’re welcome. Call me if you need anything.” Fat Auntie waved and gently closed the door.

The moment the door closed, Zhang Fan’s tense shoulders suddenly slumped.

He leaned the snakeskin bag and suitcase against the corner, not bothering to unpack, and collapsed onto the bed. His waist ached as if it had been run over, and the red marks on his shoulders from the snakeskin bag throbbed. He hadn’t caught his breath since leaving the hospital this morning.

He grabbed the mineral water from the table. There was a soft ”pop” as he twisted it open. The ice-cold water poured down his throat and slid down his esophagus, making him let out a long sigh of relief. Only after half the bottle was gone did he recover his strength, reaching into his inner pocket until his fingertips touched the necklace.

He pulled it out and held it under the light. The gold necklace shimmered with a soft, mellow luster in the warm yellow glow. He pinched the chain and shook it gently; the ”Love” pendant spun around, and the ”19,988 yuan” on the tag and the hallmark for A famous jewelry brand were clearly visible.

This was the first piece of information given by the system, and also the first piece of driftwood he had grabbed while being ground down by life.

Zhang Fan placed the necklace in his palm, his fingertips brushing against the cold links. He thought of the migrant worker’s nervous face at Peoples Square, Cute Lolita’s disgusted pout, and his own embarrassment while squatting by the trash can... This discarded necklace was like a heavy symbol, tied to someone’s sincerity being trampled on one end, and his own escape from a desperate situation on the other.

He suddenly looked forward to tomorrow.

What information would the system refresh? Would it be a chance to make some small money, or a way to avoid some pitfall? No matter what it was, it was better than yesterday, when he could only huddle in the hallway hugging his boxes and crying.

There was a crack in the screen; the time showed 11:18 PM.

”When does the system refresh again?” he muttered to the air, his voice sounding exceptionally clear in the quiet room.