Chapter 5: Ni Feihong

Walking alone for a while, he passed by a mobile phone store and stepped inside. The shop had just opened, and a young saleswoman from the blue-green tech giant quickly caught Ma Weimin and began her energetic pitch, touting the brilliance of their phones without mentioning any specifications.

Ma Weimin, sharp as ever, thought to himself that only losers obsess over hardware specs, always hoping to get the highest benchmark scores for the least money. He needed to distance himself from them; for instance, Warren Buffett surely doesn’t care whether his phone runs on Snapdragon 845 or 615.

He glanced sideways at the Apple flagship store across the street and felt tempted, but recalled how all the losers at his company carried iPhones. In contrast, the blue-green brand had few users in the business world, and with a low price-performance ratio, it could display wealth inexpensively—truly a win-win, undeniably cost-effective.

“I’ll take four,” he said.

Ma Weimin believed that having four lines would make him appear busy, setting him apart from those who spent their days idling without business. At his previous company, even the middle managers carried iPhone 6, 7, and 8—just imagine the impression.

A lucky start!

The saleswoman immediately showered Ma Weimin with compliments. She seemed newly arrived in the city, delighted to secure this deal, and chatted with him a bit more.

But Ma Weimin’s friendliness had ulterior motives. He also noticed that the girl knew nothing about hardware—she just kept saying their phones were well-built, sufficiently equipped, and the system wasn’t bad.

Technically, she wasn’t wrong. Ma Weimin decided that understanding specs was beneath his dignity—after all, Bill Gates reportedly couldn’t even install Windows himself.

Eventually, after some friendly conversation, he persuaded her to help him get four SIM cards without an ID, then left decisively.

He wanted to go to the bank, deposit a large sum of cash, and experience being treated as a VIP client. Losers never get that feeling; they sneak around paying off credit cards, never experiencing the swagger of walking into a bank with a wad of cash.

But alas, still no ID. This rebirth was a bit shabby.

He decided to endure it for now and wait before showing off at the bank.

Standing on the street, Ma Weimin downloaded every rental app in one go and began comparing options. Now that he had money, he filtered listings for those above six thousand.

He found a few decent places, but lacked an ID. For a moment, this rebirth felt like being a rat scurrying across the street—even hotels wouldn’t take him.

Maybe a shared rental could solve the problem.

He’d heard that some sub-landlords cared more about deposits than IDs. If he spun a sob story, appeared pitiable, and had a decent look and personality, he stood a good chance.

So Ma Weimin casually found a shared rental listing: no gender restriction, seeking young, cheerful, sociable tenants; loser attitudes need not apply.

The rent was six thousand, but only for one room.

He saw it was in a newly built townhouse in the Haidong district—definitely upscale, and the odds of attractive housemates seemed high. Ma Weimin immediately called, ready to hang up if a gruff man answered, or if the conversation started with a household registration inquiry.

A woman’s voice picked up.

Ma Weimin didn’t want to waste her time: “Here’s the situation—I ran into some trouble yesterday and lost my ID. All I have is cash, and I’d like to move in first. I’ll bring a small gift as thanks.”

She hesitated, didn’t answer right away.

“I’m sincere,” Ma Weimin added.

Still no response; there seemed to be more than one person on the other end, discussing among themselves.

Sensing the situation, Ma Weimin guessed it was promising. If there was only one person, they’d be indecisive and feel unsafe. The more people involved in a shared rental, the greater the sense of “public space,” and their sense of security and tolerance expands.

After a moment, the woman replied, “I can’t say for sure right now. If you don’t mind the trouble, come over and let us meet you first—we’ll decide then.”

She hung up.

That usually meant he’d made it, unless he was truly repulsive in manners or appearance. Usually, Ma Weimin wasn’t someone people disliked—though today was an exception, as he was in a special, agitated state.

After mapping out his route, he boarded the subway...

Just before his stop, he received another call from the woman: “Sorry, we discussed it and realized you’re a man without an ID. It just doesn’t feel safe. Maybe you should look elsewhere? We’re heading out soon.”

Ma Weimin quickly replied, “I’m already on my way—it’s quite a trip. Of course, I can’t force you, but since we agreed, meeting in person won’t take much of your time, right?”

They conferred again, then said, “Alright, alright—you speak oddly, but we’ll wait another half hour. If you don’t show, we’re leaving.”

She hung up...

Arriving at Crystal Palace Estate, he saw from a distance two proud young women waiting at the gate. Being somewhat unhinged and a fan of urban novels, Ma Weimin quickly imagined the details of their encounter—for instance, if they commented on his shabby clothes, he’d be ready to show off.

“Ugh, what’s with me today!”

All in all, his thinking was off. He couldn’t tell if it was overstimulation or the pain of soul and body merging.

As for the technicalities, rebirth novels never provide systematic explanations.

Approaching, though he carried over a million and a designer backpack, now wasn’t the time to flaunt his treasures—only losers would show off so casually. So Ma Weimin lit a hundred-yuan-a-pack cigarette and took a drag in the style of Andy Lau, then sized them up sideways.

“Are you Ma Weimin?” asked the woman with a beauty mark near her mouth.

“I am,” Ma Weimin replied, stepping forward to shake hands.

But the women didn’t respond.

They stepped aside to discuss. The beauty-marked woman whispered, “He’s dressed all wrinkly, pale like a sick man. I don’t feel safe—what about you?”

The other joked, “He doesn’t seem dangerous. He’s pretty handsome, just a bit eccentric. If he can pay rent, what’s the problem? Our careers are unstable, and we can’t afford the rent ourselves. We need to sublet fast. You’ve met the other viewers—they were all oddballs. Let him pay rent and move in first.”

The beauty-marked woman considered it—after two months with no tenants, it wasn’t cost-effective for just the two of them.

She walked over and said, “Alright, we’ll accept you. We’re easy to get along with—just follow the house rules and don’t disturb others. Can you do that?”

“I can,” Ma Weimin nodded.

“Handsome, you’re quite likable. I’m Tao Zi, nice to meet you.” Tao Zi, the woman with the beauty mark, said this, but didn’t take Ma Weimin seriously.

Ma Weimin smiled, “I was worried you’d refuse. If you need help, just ask. As for the promised gift, I’ll treat you to a drink.”

“We’ll see…”

Tao Zi seemed distracted. As they went inside, she thought, “I know plenty of handsome guys—who has time for your drink? Just pretend you don’t know us and pay your rent on time.”

The other woman, two years older than Tao Zi, was called Chen Xiao.

Chen Xiao’s circle wasn’t as wide, and she admired good looks more than Tao Zi. So she had a decent impression of Ma Weimin, thinking his physique, though not rugged, was fine. With a change of clothes and frequenting upscale venues, he could be “useful” in due course.

With that thought, Chen Xiao grinned slyly.

Tao Zi noticed and wondered if this woman was in heat…