A little past two in the night, there were already not many people on the street. Nan Zhi also didn’t linger outside. Mainly, she was very curious about how Song Qing could make money again so quickly, so she hurried back home. The moment there was a sound from the fingerprint lock, she immediately pulled the door open.
Perhaps because the door was opened too quickly, she just happened to catch Song Qing facing the staircase, gaze not yet withdrawn.
Nan Zhi squeezed in through the door crack, changing shoes as she asked, “I received two payments again today, were both from you?”
Actually, there were three. One came in the afternoon, but at that time she was also there. After a while, she directly asked him, and he said it was money from short videos.
This Nan Zhi really didn’t know. In fact, many of his side jobs resulted in getting paid, and she only knew after asking.
He hid it quite tightly, or one could say he felt there was no need to tell her when it didn’t earn money. If he said it, she might have expectations, and if it didn’t work out, she’d be disappointed.
Only after making money and transferring it to her would he confess when asked.
He was this kind of person—like a stuffy gourd—if not asked, he wouldn’t say. The good thing is, if asked, he’d tell her everything.
The afternoon payment came from when the employer filmed while he cooked, afraid he might spit into the food or do something behind their back.
There were many such cases—if it’s not cooking for oneself, then one wouldn’t be as attentive. Things like mop water, secretly eating what they like and leaving what they don’t for the customer, not washing meat or vegetables—anything could be done.
Her family could afford to hire an auntie, but for so many years, her parents never hired one. It’s just that they knew not many aunties would genuinely care about their employer.
Once a kitchen surveillance was installed, steel scrubbers were used to wipe the floor and the faucet, then used again to wash dishes; the table rag was used to wipe the rice cooker, etc. If the customer made a small request or complaint, they’d use the customer’s toothbrush to scrub the toilet.
Back when her family hired one, they were caught by her parents. The two were doctors before and already had some cleanliness obsession, couldn’t bear it, so they cooked themselves afterward, no matter how big their business got.
So this kind of requirement is understandable, just a bit troublesome. Didn’t expect it could be used to earn money.
She asked for the account record, and Song Qing also showed it to her. Originally, she thought it was just casually posting a video. Didn’t expect he handled it quite professionally.
There was dedicated editing and captioning, fast where it should be fast, slow where it should be slow. On top of that, his activity design, scenes, lighting, and all were arranged very meticulously. At a glance, it was pleasing to the eye.
When watching, she couldn’t help but feel envy, understanding slowly, wanting to be like him—able to make food that looks delicious just by looking at it, also clean and pretty.
In short, very attractive—not losing at all to those who specialize in doing these things. Even she followed him.
Even if she didn’t know him, the kind of level where just seeing it would make her follow.
Good content, account grew fast, already has small tens of thousands of followers, but he doesn’t have his own products, doesn’t sell anything, also reluctant to pay the deposit to open the showcase, so he can only take ads and rely on mid-video platform traffic for money.
When Nan Zhi was on her way back, she looked at it, and finally he was willing to open the showcase.
The money was definitely given by her. Song Qing would give her all the money he earned, but whenever he needed to use money on his side, Nan Zhi would transfer him a thousand yuan every month.
This money besides buying groceries he basically wouldn’t use, and by the end of the month would return it—one thousand could come back seven or eight hundred.
Sometimes she bought groceries, sometimes she directly ordered online for delivery, so he didn’t spend much; occasionally he would finish some part-time job and settle the bill, transfer it all together. One thousand given to him would become one thousand three to five when returned, made people feel amazed.
Actually their whole model, everywhere made her feel like being hit by a falling pie from the sky, quite a pleasant surprise.
Money seemed to be coming out from all directions, would show up from time to time.
Every time she felt she spent too much this month and should save a little, he would transfer money over.
As if a voice was telling her, don’t need to be frugal, there’s money here.
How could she not like this?
“Mm.” Song Qing moved the wheelchair this way, “One sum is money from the short video overseas account, finally withdrew it. There’s also a sum from this week’s tutoring payout.”
Tutoring is settled weekly.
After a pause, he also told her his recent plan: by the end of the month he wouldn’t take cooking jobs, and tutoring would change to six hours on Saturdays only. The rest of the time would all be free.
In the future, he could go out if he wanted, or stay home if not, and decorate the home.
Nan Zhi’s first reaction was this—this to her was of course another surprise: money and time both coming together, double happiness arriving at the door.
She changed her shoes, put on her bag, ran over in a few thudding steps—not giving a shallow hug, but directly bringing Song Qing out of the wheelchair, pressing him against the wall and hugging him for a long time, deepening this embrace to express her joy.
“Well done, finally can go out and play.”
Every time she hugged like this was after being wronged outside.
Song Qing’s body pressed against hers, her head resting in the crook of his neck, unable to see his expression, so she couldn’t tell if this time was the same. But it didn’t stop him from gently, vaguely patting her back as usual to comfort her.
“It will get better and better in the future.”
This sentence was also said to herself—try a little harder, and life will get better.
Nan Zhi softly responded with an “mm,” believed his words, also believed things would indeed get better, so her emotions calmed quickly. After letting go of Song Qing, she pushed his wheelchair toward the door, not forgetting to ask, “What were you just looking at?”
Song Qing paused, didn’t have time to answer before Nan Zhi asked again, “Do you want to go up and take a look?”
Song Qing hesitated for a moment, feeling it was difficult, just about to refuse when he saw Nan Zhi take off her coat, throw it onto the sofa, roll up her sleeves, and say: “I’ll carry you up to take a look.”
Not giving him time to consider or reject at all, she directly pushed his wheelchair to the stair entrance, brought him out, first adjusted her posture against the base of the wall, moved up a bit, then carried him up the stairs, heading toward the second floor.
Since she had decided and was doing it, Song Qing didn’t add to her burden again, quieted down, let her carry him to the stair corner landing, where she rested against the wall for a moment before continuing.
It didn’t take long before she really carried him to the second floor.
The second floor had no lights on, very dark, with a faint chill. Don’t know if it was due to the weather changing or what, but it instinctively made him feel it wasn’t as warm as the first floor.
For someone who likes warmth so much to live here—how could she not have psychological issues?
No wonder she preferred to stay downstairs most of the time, only going up to sleep. The second floor was just too cold and quiet.
Only after turning on the lights did it feel a bit better.
Nan Zhi was carrying him and couldn’t free her hands—the lights were turned on by Song Qing, and so was the door.
As the two entered, the two cats had already darted deeper ahead of them.
Song Qing’s gaze followed them, and he saw the full layout of the place Nan Zhi lived on the second floor.
It was very big, divided by several glass partitions. Behind the entrance was a space similar to a small living room. There was a sofa, a bookshelf, and a computer desk. In front of the computer desk were all the tools she used for drawing.
Tablet, laptop, computer, etc.—two computer monitors, one horizontal, one vertical.
The sofa and computer chair were occasionally a bit messy, with some dirty clothes thrown on top.
By the time they got here, Nan Zhi was already a bit too tired to keep holding him, so she temporarily placed him on the sofa. She herself couldn’t get up either and collapsed on top of him for a moment.
It was winter, they were dressed thickly, nothing really made contact, so it didn’t matter.
After a while, once she had rested enough, she continued to carry him, walked further in—past the small-living-room-like area, and inside was the bedroom. It was also not small. The bed was placed near the window, and there was a wardrobe and a washroom inside.
A lot of items were placed, and it didn’t feel small—just that aside from the bed, there was nowhere else to sit. Nan Zhi placed him on the bed.
The bedsheet used was the one she had drawn before.
In the drawing, he wore a gorgeous and beautiful dress, lying on the bed, exposing his entire back and shoulders. A little girl with curly hair and some golden highlights at the ends was tugging at the straps, helping him fasten the back ties.
The scene was oddly repeating itself—only now, from tying his straps, it became carrying him; and he changed from back view to front view, and he was fully dressed.
Nan Zhi seemed to think of that same scene too, she was on top of him, and let out a few chuckles.
After a moment, she gathered strength again, lifted him up once more, walked to the window, and told him to open the curtain and look outside.
Her place here was a little different from downstairs—this area included gifted space, and the gifted area below was a corridor. It was not small, so the space above was also wide. The view visible from here was more expansive.
For example, from the laundry room downstairs, she could only see a small corner of the park across. But from her bedroom, she could see everything—including the lake.
The lights around the lake were very bright, and the buildings looked like castles. Very beautiful.
Nan Zhi had some fear of heights, so glass railings were added all around—there weren’t any before. They were installed only after he moved in.
Nan Zhi said she hadn’t had time before, only finally got time to install them after resting.
Now he was leaning on this layer of railing, being held by Nan Zhi as they looked at the scenery outside, taking in the city’s prosperity.
When Nan Zhi got tired of holding him, she put him on the bed—her bed, the bed a girl sleeps in—but didn’t mind him at all, letting him lie on it.
When she was too tired, she would also lie down beside him, forehead touching forehead, raising her hands high into the air, shaking them out, letting the blood flow back. Once strength returned, she continued carrying him to the other side.
The second floor was shaped like a “凹” character. Nan Zhi lived on the left side; the right side also had space.
Upon going to the other side to look, there was nothing inside—just rows of clothing racks and a marble counter.
Nan Zhi said the previous owner of this house was very rich, lived alone, so only one bedroom was built. This side was for storing clothes, bags, and accessories—called a walk-in closet.
She didn’t have that many clothes, few bags and accessories too. The wardrobe in her bedroom was enough to store everything, so this room remained empty.
There was always an empty room across, facing her side. Her side was also entirely made of glass. Even with curtains covering it, seeing a dark area there every day wasn’t helpful for emotional well-being.
This trip wasn’t in vain—he understood Nan Zhi a bit more.