Chapter 6 The Queen of Impulse Buying

The house was nicely decorated. There weren’t many pieces of furniture, but all the basics were there. After briefly explaining the house rules, Tao Zi finally said, “No bringing shady people back here.”

Without an ID, having a place to stay was already a blessing, so Ma Weimin nodded without hesitation.

Sizing her up, he realized that although Tao Zi’s figure wasn’t particularly voluptuous, her face was striking—especially that well-placed beauty mark, which drew the eye more the longer you looked. She gave off an air of uninhibited pleasure.

Well, enough daydreaming. Ma Weimin quickly retreated to his room, stashed away his bag and cash, then came downstairs to sit in the living room.

Tao Zi happened to be reading there.

His presence made her frown a little, but after a moment’s thought, she couldn’t find a reason to tell him to leave.

After a while, Tao Zi noticed that Ma Weimin wasn’t actually unpleasant—he just sat quietly in the corner, not interrupting or making any noise. Gradually, her guard lowered, and she even exchanged a few words with him while reading. But they never really connected; her thoughts were lofty, and at most, she found Ma Weimin harmless, though unmistakably provincial.

Inevitably, her expression betrayed a hint of distaste, and she turned to look out at the garden through the glass.

“He’s handsome, sure, probably twenty-seven or twenty-eight, but the moment he speaks, he sounds utterly green and unsophisticated. If he still needs to rent a room, he can’t have much going for him,” Tao Zi mused.

But after a moment, she chastised herself for caring at all. He was only here to share the rent.

Glancing at her phone and scrolling through her contacts, just the names conjured up images of several roguish faces—people with money, connections, and real ability.

She looked back at Ma Weimin. Compared to those on her list, he was miles behind. But then again, none of those big shots needed to rent a room, did they? It wasn’t as if she could ask them to be roommates.

As for her show of distaste, Ma Weimin couldn’t have cared less, deciding there was no reason to stay and heading upstairs without a word.

Tao Zi paid him no mind and lifted her book again, reading slowly…

Alone in his room, Ma Weimin felt a little unhinged.

Normally, he wasn’t so twitchy. He tried not to think of himself as a loser, but the thought kept intruding, refusing to be banished from his mind.

“The last loser landlord—who knows what he’ll do with my computer…”

He rapped his head in frustration.

Then another worry crept in: “Those losers at the company—what will they do about my remaining salary? When my mother comes to handle the paperwork, will they mock her for being from the countryside?”

His thoughts spiraled in all directions.

At last, Ma Weimin realized the problem lay with his body. Maybe the previous owner of this body saw everyone as a loser. The imperfect fusion of souls had left him neurotic.

On a whim, he walked to the mirror—it was the first time he’d looked at himself since his rebirth.

He was surprised to find that, while the body seemed a bit drained and older than most—twenty-seven or twenty-eight at least—it was undeniably attractive. Not the kind of good looks that needed to be ruined, but a lean frame, a pallid face, and striking features. If only his gaze were a bit sharper, he might even exude an indefinable authority.

He tried to muster a “the world is at my feet” aura, but failed, feeling deflated.

That was why he dared not remain with his family. None of them were pushovers, and if they sensed his weakness, they’d eat him alive. Once that impression took root, he’d be at their mercy.

So, distance was his only shield.

Loser… loser… As he let his mind wander, night fell.

Ma Weimin was jerked from his reverie by laughter downstairs.

His mental state was growing worse—he didn’t want to be alone anymore. Maybe talking to others would help.

He went downstairs and found Tao Zi and Chen Xiao had ordered takeout, joined by a man in his thirties with the air of a successful professional—a guest of Tao Zi’s.

There was a new Cayenne parked outside, likely his.

Chen Xiao looked at the car with envy. If only she had a list of high-quality contacts like Tao Zi, maybe she’d have a shot at a Cayenne, too.

When the man who’d come to see Tao Zi noticed Ma Weimin, he seemed a bit uneasy and joked, “Did I come at the wrong time? I feel like I’m seeing someone I shouldn’t.”

Tao Zi shot Ma Weimin a reproachful look—not out of genuine annoyance, but for the man’s benefit.

The Cayenne man gave Ma Weimin an appraising glance. “You’ve got a decent build, though you’re a bit old. Still, you’d look good in the right clothes. Wouldn’t be hard to get you a contract.”

Tao Zi laughed, “Let’s not. He’s a bit neurotic—not in this line of work. Chief Editor Wan, I hope you’ll look after me in the future. It’s not easy for people like us to make it in Haizhou.”

Chief Editor Wan replied, “It’s tough for everyone. You think I didn’t start out as a nobody, making sacrifices to get in? Not to boast, but everyone has their own story of blood and tears.”

As they ate, their conversation turned to the ins and outs of their industry.

Twice, Tao Zi shot Ma Weimin a warning glance, clearly wishing he’d disappear.

But Ma Weimin scoffed inwardly—only losers worry about others interfering in their affairs.

If you can’t handle the Cayenne man, that’s your problem. If that’s what it takes to succeed, you’re too fragile. Even if I left, there’d be a hundred other Ma Weimins to take my place. You can’t make every obstacle just vanish.

And so, his mind wandered further:

This Cayenne man is clearly a loser. Talking to him is less interesting than talking to myself. I’ve seen Liu Yuan’s mother’s milk—has this guy? If you haven’t witnessed Liu Yuan’s “depth,” you’re just an industry hack, not a godfather.

His thoughts became even more deranged: loser, loser, Cayenne man… and the entire Yamaguchi-gumi are losers, eleventh-rate losers, while this guy is sixteenth-rate.

Why Yamaguchi-gumi? Ma Weimin had no idea—let them take the blame.

His head throbbed. Once his imagination started, it wouldn’t stop, and he didn’t notice Tao Zi’s repeated signals for him to leave.

Banging his head helped a bit, but he was too embarrassed to do it in front of others.

Seeing Ma Weimin ignore her hints, Tao Zi grew visibly annoyed, and the atmosphere turned awkward.

Chief Editor Wan, ever the sharp one, noticed the tension and smiled, “What do you do, young man?”

Ma Weimin replied, “I’m unemployed at the moment. Haven’t decided on anything yet.”

A hint of disdain flickered across Chief Editor Wan’s face.

Tao Zi was quick to distance herself, “Don’t get the wrong idea, Chief Editor Wan. He’s not our friend—just someone who moved in today. If he were a friend, he wouldn’t be disrupting things.”

Chief Editor Wan, with the air of a seasoned veteran, offered, “You youngsters don’t know how dangerous this can be. In the future, even if it costs more, don’t go for cheap deals. A home is for living—not for just anyone to walk in.”

Chen Xiao thought the man was overstepping. She didn’t know the Cayenne man and, put off by his attitude, quietly went upstairs, as if silently siding with Ma Weimin. Of course, that personality was why she wasn’t as well-connected as Tao Zi.

Ma Weimin simply grimaced. In the past, he’d have fired back, but oddly enough, influenced by this body, he didn’t see it as a problem.

“Only losers argue loudly with other losers over things that don’t matter,” he thought.

With that, he poured himself a glass of tap water and went back to sitting on the sofa. The purified water belonged to Tao Zi and her friends, so he stuck with tap water. But the sofa was communal.