Chapter 43: So, Move!

Six o’clock the next morning, Lin Yu was woken up by the buzzing of his phone.

He dragged himself upright from the creaky bed and glanced at the screen. It was a message from Manager Qian.

The contents were simple:

[Mysterious (Xuan) Iron] and [Red Fox] have an emergency field mission today. Your training is suspended for one day. Take note to rest properly—balance work and rest. The company does not encourage meaningless over-competition.

Lin Yu stared at the phrase “does not encourage meaningless over-competition,” and nearly spat out last night’s dinner.

(…Damn, even that old fox Manager Qian can say something this high-sounding?)

Regardless, the message was nothing short of a pardon straight from heaven.

He let out a long breath. The two mountains crushing his soul were finally lifted—if only temporarily.

He looked around at this so-called “kennel,” thick with the stench of poverty and failure.

The air, which normally reeked of damp mildew, had been somewhat washed clean after his younger sister Lin Xue’s thorough cleaning spree the night before.

On the desk, the takeout boxes from yesterday’s dinner had been carefully sorted, packed, and stacked neatly in the corner.

(…That Lin Xue…)

The moment her name crossed his mind, the fleeting ease on his face vanished, replaced by guilt and a strange, unnameable irritation.

Last night.

After Lin Yu returned to his male form, the heart that had been dangling in midair finally settled back into his chest.

It took him nearly an hour before he dared to feign having caught the last subway home, rushing back in a show of breathless exhaustion.

“Ah, the evening rush hour was hell. No idea why all those drones are still working themselves to death—ended up making me late. Oh, Xiaoxue, the room’s spotless! You and… uh, Lulu really worked hard.”

He pretended to complain about the crowds, sneaking careful glances at his sister’s face, hunting for any flicker of suspicion.

But Lin Xue’s expression was utterly normal.

She just sat on the bed, scrolling on her phone, then pointed at the desk, speaking with natural ease, as though nothing had happened.

“I went downstairs to throw out the trash, and stopped by the convenience store. Got some snacks. Look—your favorite chips, and I even brought you cake.”

(…Strange. She really… didn’t notice?)

The little man in his heart who had been banging a gong went still.

Forcing himself to act calm, Lin Yu plopped down, half in a daze.

“Haha… Xiaoxue, you’re too good to me. Even got me supper. Um… Lulu didn’t, uh, say anything weird to you, did she?”

“Nope.”

Lin Xue’s answer was watertight. She opened the cake box, sliced off a neat piece of tiramisu, and slid it toward him.

“Lulu-jie is nice. Cute, even. Just… a little shy, I think? Doesn’t talk much.”

She paused, raised her eyes, and with a mischievous glint said softly:

“But you know, gege, I’m kind of jealous of you.”

“Eh? Jealous of me for what?” Lin Yu’s heart jumped into his throat.

“I mean, look at Lulu. She’s as pretty as a debut-ready idol, with a soft, sweet voice—and she came all the way here to help you clean your place? Tsk, tsk, tsk. Miraculous. I never realized you had this kind of charm.”

Lin Xue teased without the slightest restraint, like a clever little fox.

“Didn’t you spend three years chasing that so-called ‘white moonlight’ junior back in college and never even held her hand? And now, after graduation, suddenly you’ve got blossoms blooming all over the place?”

“Cough, cough!”

The precision strike nearly knocked Lin Yu flat.

“I—me and Lulu, it’s not what you think! I just helped her out once, big favor, that’s all! She was just repaying me! Besides, me, this kind of loser? No way she’d ever look at me like that—you know better than anyone!”

“Hehe…”

Lin Xue gave an ambiguous laugh.

“Of course I know. I know you better than anyone.”

(…Why did that sound… off?)

Lin Yu felt like a tightrope walker, every word from his sister like a gust of wind threatening to topple him.

“So,” Lin Xue went on, smiling even brighter,

“I think maybe Lulu… actually…”

“S-she what?!” His voice trembled.

“…Actually likes you, stupid gege! Hahaha—”

Her laughter rang like silver bells, bright and unshadowed.

And looking at her carefree smile, Lin Yu’s tension eased at last.

(…Maybe I was overthinking it?)

(…Yeah, no way she could guess. That’d be more ridiculous than Tianqiong collapsing tomorrow. She was just teasing me, that’s all.)

The thought worked like a sedative. His hammering heart finally slowed.

By the time dawn neared, Lin Xue got up to leave.

Before going, she spoke in a tone that left no room for discussion:

“Ge, next month I’ll get my project bonus. I’ll transfer you some money.”

“What? Your money? No way! I can’t take that!”

Lin Yu jumped like a cat with its tail stepped on.

“What kind of brother lives off his sister? That’d make me a freeloader! No, no! Keep it for yourself.”

“Take it.”

This time her voice carried a surprising, almost “elder sister” kind of authority.

She looked at the ugly mold patch in the corner, then at his face—lined with exhaustion and forced bravado—and sighed.

“My bonus is 500,000. I won’t use it all. But you…”

“…This place. You really can’t live here anymore. It’s too damp, no sunlight. Cheap furniture made of formaldehyde boards. That mold could be used as a research culture medium for [New Agri-Union]. Stay here another six months, and you’ll get lung cancer if not leukemia.”

Her gaze was full of helpless heartache.

“…You’ve been out of college for years. Why are you still living like a kid? Do you miss those moldy dorm days? Or would you really throw away your health just to save a few hundred yuan?”

The barrage left him speechless, head bowed.

He felt less like a brother and more like her little brother.

“Alright, alright, I get it. But I won’t take your money. I still have over a hundred thousand left. And I was already planning to move. I’ll do it tomorrow. Tomorrow, I swear.”

The tide of memory ebbed.

Lin Yu lay on his bed, her words still a thorn in his chest.

(…She’s right.)

He slowly sat up and looked around at the kennel he had clung to for so long.

He couldn’t stay here.

Not for pride. Not for his family’s peace of mind.

It was time to crawl out of this shell of the past.

(…Move.)

The thought crystallized—clearer and firmer than ever before.

(Yes! Move! Today! Right now!)

He glanced at the calendar. Today was a rare day off.

Without hesitation, he washed up, changed into clean clothes, and headed out.

For efficiency, he splurged twenty yuan on a driverless taxi straight to Anjuke’s Xinhai branch—the largest real estate agency at the edge of District C.

“Good morning, sir, how can I help you?” A neatly dressed agent greeted him with a perfect smile.

“I want to rent a place.” Lin Yu got straight to the point, listing his modest yet earnest demands:

“Near District C. Commute under half an hour. One bedroom, one living room, private kitchen and bath, good lighting, preferably furnished, decent security. Budget… three thousand.”

At “three thousand,” the agent’s smile stiffened. Pity flickered in his eyes, the kind reserved for clueless bumpkins fresh off the train.

“Sir, have you… not followed Xinhai’s housing market recently?” he asked, voice dripping with condescension. “With [Dawn Corp] and [Huaxia Heavy Industries] pushing new projects, rents rise daily. Three thousand won’t cut it. You’ll need at least five thousand for anything half-decent.”

(…Five thousand?! Highway robbery!)

Lin Yu’s stomach dropped. His hard-won savings suddenly felt like sand slipping through his fingers.

But recalling Lin Xue’s look of disappointment—and his own fragile pride—he forced composure.

“…I see. Well… show me first. If it really doesn’t work, I’ll… raise the budget.”

“Excellent, sir!”

The agent’s eyes gleamed at those magic words, his smile now twice as genuine.

Thus began a miserable odyssey of failed viewings.

—The “Steel Forest” apartments: sounded cool, smelled like toilets and fried takeout. Dark, cramped, partitioned with glass.

—A decent location, but reeking of cat urine from some “animal lover” tenant.

—A string of overpriced scams where pictures and reality shared no resemblance, or far-flung suburbs demanding hours of commute.

By noon, Lin Yu was more exhausted than after a thousand body-slams from Chen Bing.

Just as despair loomed, the agent’s terminal pinged with a new listing.

“Sir! Look! Perfect!”

The info projected before Lin Yu’s eyes.

[Morning Sun Garden]. An old high-end complex at the edge of District C. One bedroom, one living room. 70 square meters. Furnished. South-facing, with a balcony. Rent—three thousand.

(…Three thousand?!)

It felt like his ears betrayed him. This wasn’t “cheap,” it was charity.

“There’s no catch?”

“None! Absolutely none!”

The agent thumped his chest.

“The landlords, retired professors leaving for their son abroad, priced it low for a fast rental. And—get this—they’re covering the agent fee themselves. You don’t pay a cent!”

The words hit like a falling pie from the heavens.

He rushed over immediately.

The place was perfect. Sunlit, spotless, everything gleaming. It was home.

“Mr. Lin, how about it? You’re the first to see it.”

The agent’s phone rang—bad timing. His brow furrowed.

“(On call) Uh-huh… don’t come yet, I’ve got a client. What? The landlord insists on minimum one-year lease? Fine, I’ll tell him.”

Hanging up, he smiled apologetically.

“Sir, so what do you—”

“Rent! One year!”

Lin Yu cut him off, terrified someone else might snatch it. He signed immediately, didn’t even haggle, and transferred three months’ rent plus deposit via contract wristband.

With the keys in hand, he floated like a man who had just won the lottery.

He even thanked the overly eager agent profusely.

But as soon as Lin Yu left, the smile slid off the agent’s face.

Turning away, he quickly texted his boss:

Manager Wang, [Morning Sun Garden], Building 7, Unit 404—the “haunted unit”—has been successfully rented out (evil grin jpg).

Keys in hand, Lin Yu felt like a victorious general.

He wasted no time, ordering the cheapest moving van app could summon.

Half an hour later, a shabby van with a giant “Fu” character on its side rattled up to his old hive-apartment.

The driver, a scarred, bald brute with a cigarette dangling from his lips, barked impatiently:

“Hurry up! Every extra minute is twenty yuan! Got a lot of stuff? Gonna cost more!”

“Not much, just a few boxes.”

Smiling sheepishly, Lin Yu began his self-driven exodus.

No movers—too costly. His worldly possessions amounted to clothes, an old PC, books, and random junk.

Like an ant, he ferried trip after trip, sweating buckets.

The driver leaned on the van, smoking and sneering at the cheapskate killing himself to save a few coins.

“Move it! Don’t dawdle!” he snapped now and then.

Finally, after lugging down the last heavy box of beloved manga, Lin Yu nearly collapsed.

“All set, shifu!” he panted.

“Just this junk? Took you an hour.”

The driver flicked his cigarette, crushed it underfoot, slammed the door, and slid into the driver’s seat.

Lin Yu scrambled into the passenger side, giving the new address.

The van coughed to life like a dying tractor, swaying as it carried him away from this moldy graveyard of failure.

Slumped against the seat, he watched familiar streets retreat, a bittersweet wave of farewell rising in his chest.

But he didn’t notice.

In the back, among the jumble of his boxed-up past—

A plain brown package with an unknown courier’s logo had, in the shuffle, slipped unnoticed into his belongings.

It lay there quietly, half-hidden under clothes, rocking with the van’s motion…