Chapter 18: A killer runway weapon, a male model brother in bed, a gambling addict's father...

Park Ye-jin bought this scooter with her comic book royalties.

The flop comic "My Husband is a Crazy, Insanely Rich Second Generation" only had 47 favorites.

Unexpectedly, Park Ye-jin followed Chi Leyou's suggestion and drew a cover featuring a chaebol woman and a younger man.

The pre-collection exceeded 100 that very night!

One reader gave the artist $200 as a creative incentive!

[AriaD: "Dear, draw quickly! I'll follow you till death!"]

The next day, Park Ye-jin and her younger brother, Chi Leyou, appeared in the next dorm, their feet splayed out.

"The chassis is dented, the tires are worn, and the range is low,"

the younger brother said, unleashing his power.

His roommate next door said, "It can ride 70 kilometers on a full charge in China! I tried it before shipping it over!"

"Are you from the South?" The younger brother smiled faintly, unconvinced.

His roommate's right eye twitched, confused.

"The temperature in Maple Leaf Country can easily drop to -20 degrees Celsius. Even the strongest electric cars can't withstand the cold. You must have noticed, right?"

Otherwise, why would this brand-new scooter show up in Liuzi's second-hand trading group?

Chi Leyou raised her eyes and looked at him. "My friend, how about a friendly price of $150?"

Then she stabbed him in the aorta.

"..."

And just like that, for $150, this 90% new Ninebot was snatched up by Park Yejin.

A

cold breeze blew against her face, obscuring her invisible pores. Her face felt hot, the lingering effect of her half-removed special effects makeup still lingering.

Chi Leyou, unfazed, sat comfortably on the pony.

The seat was a knockoff purchased from Temu, and the speed of its arrival in a week brought tears to her eyes. And by the way, she was showing Park Yejin the power of Pinduoduo, the overseas version of the internet.

Chi Leyou crocheted a small daisy sweater for her electric scooter, effectively solving the problem of battery drain from the cold.

Her eyes, like radar, scanned the entrance to the C-train station.

They passed a school, almost time for dismissal.

Chi Leyou slowed down and stopped at the zebra crossing.

Middle school students of all colors, their lunch boxes swung high, crossed the zebra crossing in a line, and suddenly all turned to look at her.

Performance art? Chi Leyou wondered, were these kids trying to take photos for a Beatles album?

"Ooooh, a supercar!"

"So cool!"

"Silbey's Big Lizard, I have this car—"

There was a pause.

"—A model." "

Tsk!!!"

The world of young people is too noisy, and the elderly "weird aunt" tilted her head in the direction of their gaze.

The sports car behind her slowly lowered its window, and the head she had seen a few minutes ago popped out like a balloon.

Whoosh—the girl's face blended with the crowd of onlookers on the zebra crossing.

The air conditioner in the car blew out a chemical factor called embarrassment.

The young master's voice suddenly stopped.

The girl tilted her head, casting a probing look: "?"

"Hey, Jude."

The Beatles song title blurted out, and Chen Che regretted it instantly, wishing he could smack himself to death just a second ago.

"Wow, romantic."

"Oh my god, '50 Shades of Grey' comes to life!"

"Hurry up, hurry up, stop looking! If they're upset, they'll just kick the accelerator and send us flying."

The Maple Leaf Beatles clone cleared Abbey Road. ①

Nervous.

Chi Leyou ignored him.

What time was it? Others were leaving school, he was going to work. What was the point of dawdling?

The rich sister wasn't angry, it was just because she indulged him.

The scooter, wearing a daisy-patterned warm sweater, gave way to the main road, keeping as close to the curb as possible.

A top-of-the-line sports car followed closely behind at 20 mph.

After waiting for a long time, Chen Che didn't overtake.

The girl, puzzled, stopped the car.

"Why aren't you driving?" she asked.

"Driver Chi finally said hello to me," he said, trying to sound natural. Awkward? The awkward part was her past self, that "self" already completely dead.

Chi Leyou was baffled. What? She ignored him, so he followed her?

She was startled by Chen Che's pettiness.

The sympathy she felt in her heart mostly dissipated, and Chi Leyou's remaining patience remained: "You going home?"

The rich sister's palace didn't lead this way.

She kindly tried to persuade the runaway child: "Turn on the navigation, that's the way to my sister's house." Chen

Che looked at her carefully, his slightly irritated face shrouded in sincerity. He crossed her name off the list of perverted stalkers.

If she were a Du Yuanshan stalker, she would have jumped at the chance to hitchhike.

Chen Che said, "I have something to ask you."

The girl leaned back slightly, the electric skateboard under her feet activated reverse mode, and backed to the right of the sports car like a replay.

The two stalkers, one on the left and the other on the right, looked like ponies grazing on the roadside.

She bent down and peered through the half-lowered car window, trying to guess his intentions: "Do you want to join the part-time job group?"

"..."

"It's nothing, actually." Afraid of embarrassing him, she looked away and feigned a casual tone. "Some hourly wages are low, and employers don't pay them immediately. I've suffered a lot of losses. If you really want to work, I can teach you how to quickly screen out the right jobs for you."

Her defense was broken in a second.

The comfortable leather seats made Chen Che feel uneasy. He accidentally caught a glimpse of the face in the rearview mirror that had been with him for twenty-two years.

That face inherited Du Yuanshan's good looks.

In ancient times, he would have been a handsome young man from an aristocratic family.

Even in Journey to the West, he would have been the king of the Flower-Fruit Mountain.

How did she see him as a migrant worker who had gone south to work in the Special Administrative Region in the early 1990s?

The paint on the car reflected the blue sky and white clouds, and in a moment, a cute and innocent face squeezed into the clouds.

The girl stretched out her arm and handed the phone into the car.

"Then let's not join the group yet—" A QR code popped into view, and Chen Che heard her urging, "Hurry up, add me."

He'd experienced this kind of situation since his first year of junior high.

A first-year junior wearing a smartwatch, a college student tapping his shoulder.

"Handsome guy, can I add you on WeChat?"

The inexperienced junior, experiencing this for the first time, was puzzled: "I don't have WeChat."

The college student thought this was a standard tactic used by handsome men to keep people away: "What's your phone number? I'll add you."

Confused, the middle school student rolled up his sleeves, revealing his phone watch.

Then, dressed in a police uniform, Shen Dahe, his face sullen, snapped, "Do you know how old he is?!"

The college student burst into tears. The call number machine called: "Shen Xiaoxi, go to Clinic 3."

Shen Dahe, with a solemn expression, wheeled his 1.8-meter-tall child into the pediatric clinic like he was escorting a cultural relic. 

Chi Leyou interpreted his reluctance as "a man's pride." 

A reassuring voice echoed: "It's okay. I won't tell anyone about your situation." 

They had no mutual friends, no "others." 

She waved her phone, signaling him to add her as a friend. 

Chen Che was stunned for a moment, wondering if she had WeChat. 

A while ago, he'd asked Uncle Zheng to check her background, and Uncle Zheng had insisted that Miss Chi only had an Instagram account, not a domestic WeChat account. 

Chen Che quickly scanned her WeChat account. 

The profile picture was a hand-drawn cartoon, with puffy cheeks and dimples at the corners of her mouth. 

WeChat name: Pond. 

Seeing him pretending to type, the helpful citizen Xiao Chi said, "Pond, you can mark it as Xiao Chi..." 

She read the words "I'm illiterate?" from Chen Che's face. Suddenly realizing she'd been too talkative, she closed her lips, and the dimple that could hold a small pearl vanished. 

Chen Che, through a friend, marked it as "Panda Chi." 

His Instagram name was "Brook," a play on brooks. 

The usernames coincided, and Chen Che was secretly thankful that WeChat and Instagram were separate entities. Otherwise, if "Panda Chi" pressed the meaning of "Poker Chen," his embarrassing former name would be exposed. 

"Then I'm leaving?" The girl patted her car, as graceful as a girl on horseback. "I'm going to take the C-train." 

She nodded, indicating the orange school stopping sign ahead: "The nearby school is almost dismissal. If you don't leave now, you'll have to wait a long time." 

As soon as her blessed mouth closed, a swarm of students swarmed in. 

"..." 

Even she had to give way to the students. 

The futuristic sports car was enough to attract attention. 

The owner simply turned off the engine, the exaggerated fan-shaped doors disrupted the sunlight, and the air was filled with murmurs of praise. 

The handsome young man Shen got out of the car, and the crooked golden maple tree on the sidewalk had a temporary companion. 

He stood there in the desolate land in the wilderness, and the ugly little tree was illuminated by the holy light of Buddha, and the dead leaves were shrouded in golden light. 

Oh, so pretentious... Chi Leyou curled his lips: Brother, this killer runway model, you still need a red carpet. 

Then he thought: broad shoulders and narrow waist, top-notch bone structure, handsome, as long as the rich sister likes him, that's enough. 

She turned her eyes away, staring at Huang Jinfeng: "My roommate studies painting, and their studio is short of people. If you are interested, you can go and work there. It's daytime work, usually half a day, which is more suitable than part-time work." Chen 

Che smiled: "Mr. Chi is so kind?" 

"I have a lot of good things!" Chi Leyou hummed, "You met me, it's your lucky 6+1." 

Having won the lottery jackpot inexplicably, Chen Che was curious about the work in the studio: "I can draw storyboards, but only sketches. What kind of studio is that? Is it a serious one?" 

Chi Leyou coughed lightly: "It requires you to devote yourself to art." 

"?" 

Afraid that he couldn't accept it, the girl simmered it down: "...models who maintain the same pose for a long time." 

After a moment of silence, Chen Che said: "Speak human language." 

"Human models." She lowered her eyelashes. "We always have this misconception. It's actually a form of occupational discrimination. The models in my roommate's studio have different price tiers." 

She counted them off, counting on her fingers one by one: "Older ones, hourly wage... Younger ones, wearing underwear, hourly wage..." 

Seeing he didn't object, she seemed receptive. 

"If you don't mind, you can go without. The hourly wage will be higher." She parted her lips and let out a smile. 

Chen Che's gaze fell on her dimples, which deepened a little, with a sinister look like the pimp of Yihongyuan. 

He tried to maintain basic decorum: "No thanks." 

"Oh..." Chi Leyou was full of questions. 

This handsome man, glamorous in front of people, but sad behind them. 

Back home, there are bedridden women, gambling addicts, and maybe even a mother who remarried. 

Double hourly wages are so tempting, why wouldn't he take it? 

Or is he just holding on? 

A cold wind blew, rustling the withered golden maple leaves. 

The young master let bygones be bygones: "Can you do me a favor?" 

"Huh?" The girl was a little slow, "You agree? Well, there's nothing wrong with being a nude model, it's really nothing! A pig in a pigsty doesn't wear clothes either!" 

"..." 

Please, this little bitch, can this kind of gossip be skipped? ! 

"You've worked at Xiyouhui, you must know someone inside there." 

"Yeah." 

"Can you help me buy tickets for the crosstalk performance on Saturday night?" 

Tickets for the crosstalk performances at Xiyouhui are hard to come by, and Chi Leyou was in a dilemma: "It must be sold out, don't get your hopes up, I'll go ask first." 

"Okay." Chen Che raised four fingers, "I want four VIP tickets." 

The girl turned her body, her eyes flicked from his fingers to his face, puzzled: "You want so many?" 

"If you can't have four, three will be fine, money is not a problem." 

Her voice suddenly rose: "Are you a ticket scalper?!" 

"..."