Sugar painting is not only weather-dependent but also an art form that demands exceptional hand dexterity. The burn on the back of Li Sui’s hand forced her to close her shop and rest for two days.
With nothing to do at home, Li Sui logged into her author account on the @BestBooks website, which she hadn’t opened in months.
The comment section was buzzing.
[Where’s the author? It’s been ages since you started a new book, and your Weibo hasn’t been updated either.]
[Congratulations on finishing! Your realistic fiction is unbeatable!!! When’s the next one coming? So excited!!!]
[Ahhhh!!! This was absolutely stunning! I cried—your writing is so powerfully moving.]
...
The flood of positive comments reassured Li Sui. At least, despite the major upheavals during the serialization, the story hadn’t fallen apart.
To her surprise, she also discovered that while this book had fewer collections than her previous one, it seemed to have more die-hard fans. One reader, under the username [MQ], had gifted her dozens of high-value presents, instantly skyrocketing to the top of the fan leaderboard—leaving everyone else far behind.
But since she hadn’t logged in for months or withdrawn any royalties, she hadn’t noticed until now.
She then opened her draft folder.
Inside were two completed opening chapters for a new novel, yet when Li Sui read them, they felt so unfamiliar it was as if someone else had written them.
She stared at her emptied-out memo app for a long, long time, trying to jot down some inspiration, but her mind remained blank. She turned off her phone and sighed deeply. Was it just that she hadn’t written in too long, or was she truly running out of creative steam?
Since most of her works were realistic fiction, back in college, whenever she hit a creative block, she’d take on part-time jobs—both to earn money and to find inspiration.
With these two free days, why not try that again?
After a long hiatus, Li Sui reopened the muted part-time job group in her WeChat. But after scrolling through, she only found gigs like flyer distribution or waitressing—things she’d done plenty of in college, none of which felt fresh.
She then browsed her Moments feed and was quickly drawn to a post from yesterday by her residential complex’s property manager:
[Looking for part-time security guards. Inquire in person.]
Security guard…
That was one job Li Sui had never done before, and the best part was—it was close to home.
They say becoming a security guard in your youth saves you forty years of detours. Without hesitation, Li Sui messaged the manager and learned that due to a recent surge in flu cases, several guards in the complex had fallen ill. Since every post needed coverage, they were urgently hiring temporary workers.
Excited, Li Sui asked, [Do you think I’d be a good fit?]
Manager Li, who knew her, seemed hesitant: [You’re just a young woman…]
Li Sui: [I’ll do it for free, and I can start right now.]
Manager Li: [Come immediately.]
And just like that, Li Sui was on the job.
At Chang’an No. 1 Residence, security duties were divided into four main tasks: gate duty, routine patrols, underground parking lot duty and patrols, and fulfilling residents’ daily requests.
The uniform Li Sui was given belonged to a former female employee and fit reasonably well. After tightening the belt and putting on her cap, Manager Li briefed her: “Patrol the entire complex before lunch to check for any safety hazards. If any residents need assistance, go and help. At 2 p.m., relieve Little Wang at the main gate. Your shift ends at 8 p.m.”
“Got it,” Li Sui agreed promptly, then hopped onto the patrol cart provided by the security office and set off.
The spring sun wasn’t too harsh yet, but it still made it hard to keep one’s eyes open. She glanced around until a meow caught her attention.
Following the sound, she spotted a small tabby cat with green eyes, no bigger than the palm of her hand, huddled timidly in a corner. It was gnawing on a fallen peach blossom, clearly starving.
Li Sui thought it looked familiar. After a closer look, she realized—wasn’t this the same cat Zhou Jinghuai had teased with a blade of grass the day he returned?
She patted her pockets and found only a half-eaten bun from breakfast. After a quick search to confirm it was safe for cats, she stepped out of her car and approached slowly.
But the little thing was wary. The moment she got closer, its fur bristled all over. For every step she took forward, it retreated two.
Li Sui crouched by the roadside, holding out the bun as bait. The cat remained unmoved, darting into the bushes in a flash and vanishing.
"…" Li Sui felt defeated.
Was Zhou Jinghuai’s face really that captivating?
Well, yes.
She couldn’t lie to herself. Stuffing the bun back into her pocket, she resumed her patrol.
After lunch, Li Sui followed the fire safety manual’s instructions, inspecting the firefighting equipment building by building.
By the time she finished the fourth one, she pressed the elevator button to head down.
A moving truck had appeared at the entrance, loaded with bed frames and small cabinets. Someone was moving in—or out.
Just as Li Sui was about to leave, a voice called out, "Hey, security—"
She turned eagerly, only to see a woman in a black dress pause mid-sentence, correcting herself with a chuckle, "Miss?"
Li Sui jogged over cheerfully. "Need any help?"
The woman wore bold makeup, her dark waves cascading over her shoulders, revealing a faint bruise near her collarbone as the breeze brushed her hair aside.
She smiled sheepishly. "I’m moving, and it’s a bit much to handle alone. Could you lend a hand?"
Li Sui figured this fell under what Manager Li called "routine resident requests." Naturally, she had no reason to refuse. After parking her cart, she followed the woman upstairs.
The 19th floor had two small units per elevator. The apartment was chaos—wall art, a kettle, fruit, and more strewn across the floor.
Li Sui hesitated, unsure where to step. "What happened…?"
"Oh, it’s fine." The woman glanced around and handed Li Sui a cardboard box. "Had a fight with my soon-to-be ex-husband last night."
Li Sui blinked. "Did you win?"
The woman burst out laughing, tilting her head to show the bruise. "I’d say so. This is all I got—he’s still in the hospital."
"Six months of boxing paid off." She exhaled deeply, as if relieved. "Just toss anything you see into the box."
"Got it." Li Sui knelt, picking up items one by one. Curiosity got the better of her. "Why ‘soon-to-be’ ex?"
The woman scoffed. "He won’t agree. Says his parents think divorce is shameful."
"Shameful?"
"Yeah. His mom claims being labeled a ‘twice-married man’ will hurt his chances in the dating market." She rolled her eyes. "Like I care. I’m moving out first. If he still refuses, I’ll just file for divorce."
Li Sui kept mechanically collecting things, but her mind had already wandered far away.
If Li Sui were to divorce Zhou Jinghuai, he would then be a divorced man too—would he also face discrimination?
But then again, Li Sui reconsidered, he was different from other men after all.
Who would dare discriminate against him?
People should be thanking their lucky stars if he didn’t discriminate against them.
Working together was indeed much faster than working alone. In less than an hour, the living room was stripped bare, looking as empty as an unfinished apartment.
The moving truck left first, and the woman handed Li Sui her car keys, preparing to drive her own vehicle from the underground parking lot.
Before leaving, she smiled and slipped something into Li Sui’s arms. "For you."
Li Sui looked down—it was a paper tube, similar to the kind Yu used to store celebrity posters.
Though unsure what was inside, Li Sui immediately waved her hands in refusal. "No, no, we can’t accept gifts from residents."
"It’s just a cheap little thing," the woman said, pressing it into her hands. "A friend gave it to me, so I’m passing it on to you. Consider it a blessing—thank you for helping me move today. Maybe we’ll meet again!"
Before Li Sui could refuse further, the woman hurried off.
Peering into the tube, Li Sui could vaguely make out something rolled up inside but couldn’t discern what it was.
Just as she was about to tip it out for a better look, the walkie-talkie at her waist crackled to life with Little Wang’s voice: "Li Sui? Li Sui? Where are you? Come to the gate for shift change."
"Coming, coming!" Li Sui quickly replaced the lid, grabbed the walkie-talkie, and rushed toward the main entrance while responding.
Welcoming residents home, seeing them off, registering visitors, coordinating with delivery riders—these tasks kept Li Sui occupied for the rest of the afternoon.
At 7:55 p.m., as night fell and her shift neared its end, an unfamiliar Mercedes rolled up.
Seeing the electronic display flag it as a visitor’s car, Li Sui smoothly stepped forward to stop it, clipboard in hand. "Please register," she said.
The driver’s window lowered, and the man inside answered automatically, "Building 5, 22nd floor."
Building 5, 22nd…
Li Sui paused mid-writing—wasn’t that her own address?
A faint scent of alcohol wafted from the car. Peering inside, she could barely make out a figure in the back seat, his head tilted, eyes closed, features obscured in the dim streetlight.
Lowering her voice, Li Sui asked, "Is he drunk?"
The driver ignored her question. "You done registering yet?"
Li Sui shrank back slightly, about to ask for the passenger’s name, when a familiar voice—roughened by drink—spoke from the back seat.
"Don’t drive in."
The driver turned in surprise. "Mr. Zhou?"
The rear door opened, and Zhou Jinghuai stepped out, shutting it behind him with a careless flick of his wrist before motioning for the driver to leave.
With no reason to stay, the driver complied, and the black car soon vanished into the night.
Zhou Jinghuai pressed his fingers to his temples, his gaze lingering on her security uniform. "Playing spy?"
"..." Li Sui straightened, deadpan. "I’m working! Wait here—"
Little Wu had already taken over in the security booth. After clocking out, Li Sui emerged holding the poster tube to find Zhou Jinghuai slumped against the booth’s wall, his head drooping as if exhausted, his tie loosened and hanging haphazardly around his neck.
She tugged at his sleeve. "You okay?"
Zhou Jinghuai frowned slightly, lifting his right hand. His voice was weary. "Help me up."
Li Sui supported him as if assisting an empress dowager, cradling his right hand with both of hers: "Is this okay?"
After a few steps, Li Sui realized—no, it wasn’t.
He was far too drunk. At this pace, they wouldn’t make it home by dawn.
Gritting her teeth, she stuffed the poster tube into her waistband, grabbed his wrist with her right hand to drape his arm over her shoulder, and wrapped her left arm around his waist.
Through the thin fabric of his shirt, her arm pressed flush against the small of his back, their body heat unmistakably tangible against each other.
Zhou Jinghuai’s breath hitched.
In this half-embrace, he could easily glance down at the crown of her head. The evening breeze stirred, carrying the faint fragrance of her hair to his nose.
His Adam’s apple bobbed, his thoughts drifting—until Li Sui suddenly halted, adjusting her stance. The movement drew his attention to the red armband on her sleeve.
["Guard Against Criminals, Uphold Harmony."]
"..." A sacrilegious thought, indeed.
With great effort, Li Sui managed to haul him home.
The moment the door opened, Dasheng sat obediently at the entrance, gazing at them with eager anticipation.
"Dasheng, can you..." Li Sui paused, searching for the right words, "...drag your godfather to the couch?"
Dasheng remained unmoved.
"Useless. Other dogs get into top universities, and you can’t even carry a person."
Grumbling like a chatterbox, Li Sui mustered all her strength to toss Zhou Jinghuai onto the sofa—only to lose her balance and collapse right on top of him.
Her chin slammed into his chest with a muffled "oof," her brows knitting in pain. Then, a warm hand gently cupped her chin, soothing the spot.
Their eyes met, and Li Sui suddenly found the gesture familiar.
A few seconds later, it hit her: this was exactly how she comforted Dasheng whenever the dog bumped his chin while playing.
"..." She immediately shoved him away, scrambling upright with stubborn dignity.
Rubbing her chin, she exhaled heavily. "How much did you even drink?"
"Not much," Zhou Jinghuai replied, propping himself up on the sofa. He rested his elbow on the armrest, fingers loosely curled against his temple, his voice lazy. "What’s that on your waist?"
Only then did Li Sui remember.
"I helped a neighbor move today, and she gave me this as a thank-you," she said proudly, pulling out the poster tube. She popped off the lid and shook out its contents.
It wasn’t a poster but a rolled-up red fabric—likely a banner.
Judging by the weight, it was fairly long. Li Sui handed one end to Zhou Jinghuai and stepped back, unfurling it between them.
The crimson banner revealed bold white characters:
["No Need for a Husband—I’ll Have Eight Male Models Instead."]
Zhou Jinghuai: ?
