Chapter 7: Members of the Family

The Cayenne man chuckled again, “Sorry, kid, I’m not targeting anyone. Just stating a fact. When I first came to Haizhou, I really encountered all sorts of problems with co-renting.”

“Oh.” Ma Weimin didn’t care much. He kept his head down, playing with two phones at once.

It was a perk. This body could truly multitask—scrolling through WeChat on one phone, playing a chicken game on the other, his scores quite impressive, bullying elementary schoolers in the rookie zone.

“Young and capable, huh? Playing two major-brand phones at the same time, not even breaking a sweat,” the middle-aged man said, his expression becoming odd.

Tao Zi chimed in, “My guy, those factory girl phones are expensive and boring. Whether you want something cheap or pricey, there are options, right? At least do some research before buying. Don’t just buy blindly without knowing anything!”

Ma scoffed, his attitude dismissive, “Actually, there are high-end factory girl phones. Plenty of losers in the entertainment industry and office buildings use them—you guys just don’t know. And I rarely hear anyone say I don’t understand phones.”

The Cayenne man gave a thumbs-up, smiling, “Well said! It’s good for young people to be humble. If you have the mindset, go work in a factory first, nothing to be ashamed of. Don’t just sit around idle. Bricklayers are hiring loads of people.”

Ma Weimin ignored him, continuing to play on his phone.

Tao Zi was quite disappointed in him. But thinking it over, she felt this loser was at least genuine—no sense of danger about him. As a tenant, he was not exactly unqualified. Someone with bad intentions wouldn’t behave like this, at least not so foolishly.

“Are you hungry?” Tao Zi suddenly asked.

With her mention, Ma Weimin realized he was starving. He’d been distracted by the headaches caused by his loser tendencies, hadn’t thought about it.

So, Ma Weimin stood up and walked away, “You guys chat, I’m going to grab something to eat.”

Tao Zi spoke again, “Don’t get me wrong, I’m not chasing you off. You can order delivery, you have a phone after all. Just hurry up and uninstall that anti-human app from the group-buying platform, you can use the others.”

“Ordering delivery would mean losing out on exercise, and missing chances to interact with people. Right now, I need to meet people—the more, the better.” Ma Weimin muttered nervously as he hurried away.

Watching him leave, Chief Editor Wan said coolly, “Do you agree this guy’s an idiot?”

Tao Zi nodded quickly, “He’s a bit odd, but overall, he’s not malicious.”

“Right, no malice. Maybe his head got caught in a door,” Chief Editor Wan, the Cayenne driver, lit a cigarette, looking deep in thought.

Tao Zi found him both funny and handsome, talented and well-connected. The only downside: a man like this must have treated gonorrhea a few times, a bit old and decadent, hard to handle...

Outside, she ran into a bald man walking a golden retriever, who left a pile of dog poop and rushed off.

A loser, daring not to clean up after his own dog?

Sweat—this time it wasn’t Ma Weimin’s brain at fault, but that he’d stepped in the golden retriever man’s dog poop. He’d definitely be looked down on later, walking into a restaurant with that smell wouldn’t help his image.

So, Ma Weimin began mapping the residents of this neighborhood in his mind, mentally labeling each person he met as a loser.

“Loser... hmm, not this one.”

Ma Weimin suddenly stopped in his tracks. On this path, he encountered a truly refined woman.

She was the same leg-baring trench coat woman he’d seen in the daytime—the one who’d sprayed coffee on his sleeve and slipped away. She possessed an exquisite aura, the kind of goddess-like charm that lingered and enthralled.

Since Ma Weimin stopped, the trench coat woman stopped as well.

“What a coincidence, you live here?” Ma Weimin asked.

She nodded slightly, still gazing at him with curiosity.

“Looks like you have nothing to say to me, right?” Ma Weimin continued.

The trench coat woman rolled her eyes. She had to admit, his way of responding was novel, though also a bit neurotic.

“Well, I get it, you don’t want to talk to me,” Ma Weimin said, then slipped away again.

Sweat poured down.

He usually didn’t have the guts to talk to beautiful women—the higher class, the more intimidating. Clearly, it was this body’s fault; everything felt off.

Ma Weimin wanted to curse his own body as a loser, but as if a self-defense mechanism kicked in, his thoughts made the body behave a bit more normally. He figured he was beginning to understand the pattern.

The trench coat woman didn’t leave right away, instead staring into the direction he’d gone.

During the day, what had drawn attention to him was his nervous demeanor and the fact that he was carrying a twenty-thousand-dollar designer bag.

Even more impressive at night!

As a fashion authority, the trench coat woman, seeing him for the second time, realized that the neurotic man was wearing clothes even more valuable than his designer bag?

Clothes without a brand are either street market junk or top-tier luxury. Obviously, the neurotic man’s outfit wasn’t from a street stall—even at night, without clear details, it looked perfectly tailored.

But not all tailored clothes are necessarily a good fit; that depends on the tailor’s skill and insight. Some details are the devil, some the soul. Like how an elementary student and Lu Xun use almost the same words and sentence structures, but the difference is unmistakable.

The style was clearly that of today’s top designer, Michelangelo, whose designs are notoriously difficult to wear well. This outfit seemed to have been made by Michelangelo himself—perfectly fitted, nothing excessive, nothing lacking. Only that could explain...

Ma Weimin was annoyed.

He’d walked forever without finding a restaurant—this new neighborhood was a scam. How much farther would he have to go?

He spotted a lavishly decorated bathhouse, thought it over, and went in.

Word on the street was that bathhouses are much like restaurants, with buffets, and if you have a good appetite, combining a meal with a bath is quite cost-effective. Having endured two big cups and two bowls of large pork noodles, Ma Weimin believed this was the best place for food.

Upon entering, the staff shouted in unison, “Welcome!”

Their voices were full of confidence and vigor, which only proved how much of a scam this place was. If it were the old Ma Weimin, he’d have been scared off by that cult-like greeting.

This time, though a bit nervous, he was determined to overcome it. Only losers fear entering such establishments. Ma Weimin decisively took his locker key and went to change. Since his shoes were covered in dog poop, he handed them over for cleaning, and the staff looked at him oddly.

It seemed they sensed his strong presence, so they didn’t give him the NPC-style mocking look.

Smart move. Otherwise, Ma Weimin had already planned how he’d show off if challenged.

These were the thoughts swirling in his mind as he soaked in the pool, enjoying himself. Damn, was he starting to lose control and drift into wild thoughts again?

After bathing, he hit the buffet, nearly eating himself sick...

Anyway, he’d be looked down on by Tao Zi once he returned, so Ma Weimin decided to lie down here for a while and recover.

Once in a while, a young woman in business attire carrying a walkie-talkie would approach, sit by Ma Weimin’s bed, and smile, “You look like a regular. Want me to call someone for a massage?”

Ma Weimin took out a hundred-yuan pack of cigarettes, lit one in the style of Andy Lau, and said calmly, “Call three over.”

The walkie-talkie woman nearly spit out her drink, but took it as a good sign. With an odd look, she asked, “Do you have any preferred therapists?”

Ma Weimin replied, “No. Please send No. 7, No. 77, and No. 177 to discuss life with me.”

“Good eye, very impressive.” The walkie-talkie woman praised him repeatedly, “You seem decisive, quite the big brother type, very focused on flair and feng shui... uh, but No. 77 is currently unavailable.”

Ma Weimin said nervously, “I’ll wait. I’m so poor that all I have left is time.”

“Well said.” She raised her thumb with even more praise, “Time is money; time is the most valuable. That means you’re the richest man in the world.”

“Objectively speaking, your assessment isn’t wrong.”

Thus, Ma Weimin and this beautiful woman chatted and laughed together.

It felt like a leap in character, the courage to step out, the blood of a warrior!

Ma Weimin never used to have this personality or guts; now, he did thanks to a strong heart. In these moments of bravado, he relied not on the “Great Demon King’s” connections, but on the heart of a champion.

He spent little money but indulged in endless daydreams. Before, without the warrior’s blood, spending three times as much could only make him a clown. Like the times he fell for bar scams—lost thousands and ended up seething.

Sweat—Ma Weimin could multitask, chatting with the walkie-talkie woman while fantasizing all this.

The annoying thing was, his mind never left the word “loser”—who knew how much resentment this body harbored for losers?

It seemed the curse would never leave him!