8: How did Chapter 8 suddenly become a "scumbag"?

Zhang Fan's steps came to a sudden halt. When he looked back, the young lady had already lowered her head, pretending to tidy the counter, though the tips of her ears were slightly red.

His face was full of question marks—he just wanted to sell a necklace, so how did he suddenly become a "scumbag"?

Little did he know, the young lady had just scrolled past a news notification this morning: "New Valentine's Day Tactic! Man Buys Gold Necklace to Trick Woman into Bed, Steals It Back the Next Day to Cash Out."

The news said a certain man bought a gold necklace on Valentine's Day to coax a girl. After they slept together that night, while the girl was asleep, the man stole the necklace back and went to a gold shop the next day to return it under the pretext that it "didn't fit."

The man in the video wore a suit and a watch, with a whole set of excuses about the "necklace not fitting" to get a refund. The resemblance between him and the suited Zhang Fan currently trying to sell a new necklace was uncanny.

Same style of suit, same "brand new and unopened" excuse, and even the date matched: the day after Valentine's Day.

Wasn't he just walking right into the line of fire?

"Forget it, I'll go to a pawnshop instead." Zhang Fan gritted his teeth helplessly and turned to walk into the alley. Scumbag or not, he needed to get the money first.

The pawnshop was hidden in an old alley, its wooden sign faded. The boss was an old man wearing reading glasses. He took the necklace, weighed it, and used a magnifying glass to check the tag. "It's from A famous jewelry brand, 999 pure gold, 20.3 grams... I can give you 15,000 at most."

"15,000?" Zhang Fan gripped the necklace tightly. The tag clearly said 19,988; this discount was far too steep.

"No receipt, I have to take a risk." The old man tapped the counter, ash falling onto the faded abacus. "If you're okay with it, we have a deal. If not, go ask somewhere else."

Zhang Fan felt his pocket; his phone balance was only 6.42 yuan. He gritted his teeth. "Deal."

As he gripped the cash handed over by the pawnshop owner, Zhang Fan felt his tense nerves finally relax.

Fifteen thousand, a thick stack. He stuffed the money into his bag, thought for a moment, and then counted out twenty-four bills to put in his pocket.

First, he'd pay Sister Li the rent. Zhang Fan was a principled man who hated owing people things, especially things owed from his most pathetic moments.

Sister Li's fruit stall was still in the same old place, the plastic canopy flapping loudly in the wind.

In the freezing weather, Sister Li was huddled in a folding chair watching short videos, her phone volume turned up high. Seeing Zhang Fan lift the curtain and enter, she sprang up. "Zhang Fan? What are you doing here?"

This shout startled Sister Li's husband, Old Wang, who was doing the accounts in the back room, as well as the helper crouching on the ground unloading apples. Both stopped their work and stared toward the entrance.

"Sister Li, I'm here to pay the rent." Zhang Fan ignored their gazes, pulled the twenty-four red bills from his pocket, and handed them over. "Two months' worth, 2,400 in total."

Sister Li's eyes were glued to the money for two seconds before she slowly took it. She didn't look at Zhang Fan, not even lifting her eyelids. She dipped her finger in saliva and flicked through the bills one by one, the rustling sound of the paper money echoing loudly in the stall.

After counting them once, she counted them a second time. Finally, she stuffed the money into a drawer, the lock clicking shut, before she finally looked up to glance at Zhang Fan.

She had rented the place to Zhang Fan for 1,200 yuan mainly for peace of mind—the young man was quiet, didn't make a fuss, and paid his rent every month.

It was only after Gu Feifei visited a few times that things got complicated. She complained about the peeling walls and the neighbors fighting, constantly egging Zhang Fan on to "move to a better neighborhood," which annoyed Sister Li.

"Oh, Little Zhang, you actually came all this way to bring the money." Old Wang walked out from the back room and spoke up for Sister Li. "So, do you still plan on renting? If you're staying, I'll have your Sister Li give you the keys."

"No thanks." Zhang Fan sighed. "If I can't make it in Jiangcheng, I'll just head back to my hometown."

In truth, he didn't know where his future lay either. These words were half for them and half for himself.

"This suit of yours..." Seeing Zhang Fan in a suit, Old Wang proactively pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and offered him one.

Old Wang was a well-known henpecked husband. Usually, Sister Li wouldn't let him smoke much, so he generally used the opportunity of offering a cigarette to light one for himself. "Not working today?"

Just as Zhang Fan was about to take the cigarette, Old Wang let out an "Oh" and slapped his thigh. "Look at my memory, today is Saturday."

"It's not about it being Saturday." Zhang Fan scratched his head, his voice dropping slightly. "I just resigned and haven't found a new job yet." He was too embarrassed to say "fired"; those two words were like a thorn that stung when spoken.

"No job?" Old Wang clicked his tongue and offered the cigarette again.

"Hey, everyone hits a rough patch. I know you, young man. You've lived here for over a year and never been late with the rent. I was just saying that what your Sister Li did the other day wasn't right—"

He glanced at Sister Li, who was rummaging through a basket of apples, and lowered his voice. "Would Little Zhang really stiff us for the money? How about... you stay for a few more days? You can pay the rent once you find a job, no rush."

Zhang Fan saw through it; Old Wang's words sounded warm, but they were just polite talk.

He remembered very clearly how Sister Li had called the junk collector to clear out his luggage yesterday.

But he still responded with a smile. "Thanks for the kind offer, Brother. I'll look around first. If it really doesn't work out, I'll head back home. After all, the pressure of living there is lower."

Old Wang and Sister Li exchanged a glance. Seeing that he had no intention of renewing the lease, they didn't push further. Sister Li went back to tidying the fruit, while Old Wang smacked his lips and returned to the back room to do the accounts.

Gripping the unlit cigarette, Zhang Fan lifted the curtain and walked out of the fruit stall. The sunlight outside was a bit dazzling. Standing at the mouth of the alley and looking at the gray sky, he suddenly thought: maybe it's time to find a new place to live?

But as soon as the thought surfaced, he suppressed it.

Who knew if this System thing was reliable? If tomorrow's refreshed intel was some useless news like cabbage prices dropping by fifty cents at the wet market, how would he survive?

He still had to find a job honestly.

He felt his inner pocket and pulled out his phone. With the screen shattered, it was hard even to see the time under the sunlight. With great effort, he finally made it out: 11:30.

Zhang Fan's Mi 11, which he'd used for five years, was actually long overdue for a replacement. The battery couldn't last three hours on a single charge; the camera was completely blurry at anything over 1x zoom, making scanning codes take forever; and most fatally, that Snapdragon 888 chip would overheat at the slightest provocation. Plus, the screen had shattered in this latest fall.

But who could he blame? Two months ago, when Gu Feifei pouted and said her "phone was lagging to death," he went to the digital mall that same day and bought her the latest iPhone 14 Pro Max.

Simp, simp... a simp ends up with nothing. Now, Zhang Fan desperately wanted to give himself a slap.

"Go buy the lottery ticket first." Zhang Fan put his phone back in his pocket and turned toward Jiangcheng Road.

Sunlight shone on the suit, the crisp fabric reflecting glints of light. As he passed a home-style restaurant, the aroma of braised ribs wafted out, making him rub his stomach.

—Forget it. After I win that 50,000-yuan grand prize, I'll come back and order the braised ribs with two bowls of rice.

50,000-yuan grand prize, wait for me.

He slung his bag over his shoulder, and his pace couldn't help but quicken.