WRR – Chapter 6

Before leaving, Xu Shi took her dirty clothes out of the laundry basket in Yu Lingshan’s bathroom and found her bag in the living room.

After she left, Xu Shi had already walked to the elevator and pressed the button, but just as it was one floor away, she turned back.

Yu Lingshan’s birthday was public on Weibo. She was five years older than Xu Shi, born on June 21st.

Xu Shi thought for a moment, then reached out and touched the keypad lock, entering 062122. With a beep, the door opened.

Xu Shi panicked and immediately shut the door again. Then, with a jolt, she leaned down to look at the lock, which seemed to have a camera.

It probably… doesn’t, right…?

After arriving at the office and finishing the morning meeting, Xu Shi understood why her mom had sent that message yesterday.

Her WeChat on her computer was currently flooded with messages from Weiwei.

Weiwei: Are you awake? Where are you now?

Weiwei: At work?

Weiwei: You’re not a true friend! Since when are you so close with the great beauty Yu? You even went drinking with her yesterday?

Weiwei: Fine, don’t invite me, but you made me call your mom to cover for you?!

Weiwei: And you stayed at her place overnight? It’s only been a few days, Xiao Zhi!

Weiwei: I’m going to shove a microphone in your mouth.

Weiwei: Spill it! Now!

From Weiwei’s messages, Xu Shi immediately guessed the whole story of what happened last night.

Xu Shi: At work.

Xu Shi: We’re not close. Work wasn’t going well yesterday, so I went to a bar by myself and ran into her.

Xu Shi: I drank too much and she took me home with her. She probably couldn’t get my address out of me.

Xu Shi: Nothing happened. I just crashed at her place for a night.

Weiwei: ???

Weiwei: You? Went? To a bar? By yourself?

Xu Shi: Yeah.

Weiwei: Then you must have been really stressed.

Xu Shi: What else?

Weiwei: Is it that bad? It’s the end of the month again.

Xu Shi: It is what it is. I’ll just muddle through.

Weiwei: Anyway, back to the topic.

Weiwei: Wow! You have no idea how surprised I was when I got a call from Yu Lingshan yesterday!

Weiwei: She’s so gentle!

Weiwei: The first thing she said was my name, Weiwei.

Xu Shi: ? Isn’t your name Weiwei?

Weiwei: No! You don’t get it!

Weiwei: How do I explain it… her voice is the kind that, no matter what she says, you’ll just go, “Okay, okay, okay, I’ll do it, I’ll do it!”

Xu Shi: …I really don’t get it.

Weiwei: I thought something had happened to you guys. You were talking in the background when she called.

Xu Shi: What did I say?

Weiwei: You asked her how much longer she’d be on the phone. She said she was done and hung up on me.

Weiwei: So you don’t remember any of that?

Xu Shi: Right.

Weiwei: With your tolerance, what are you doing drinking? LMAO, and you didn’t even call me.

Xu Shi stared at that message for a long time before replying meaningfully: Indeed.

Today happened to be the last day of the month. After chatting with Weiwei, her supervisor sent over the customer feedback form. Xu Shi perfunctorily downloaded it and left it on her desktop.

This was the monthly task Xu Shi had to complete. It involved randomly adding ten friends on their “Ding Dong Dong” app, getting familiar with them, and then having them fill out a survey. For each one she was short, 50 yuan would be deducted from her pay.

The survey was long and tedious, and it was all about Ding Dong Dong. The average netizen had no patience to help you with it.

And since Ding Dong Dong was an app that required real-name verification, one ID card could only be used to fill out the survey once, making it even more difficult.

In her first month at the company, Xu Shi had managed to get ten forms filled out by classmates and relatives. The second month, she scraped together five. By the third month, she couldn’t get a single one.

After finishing the miscellaneous tasks assigned during the morning meeting, Xu Shi opened Ding Dong Dong again.

The Ding Dong Dong app only allowed you to add people nearby, within a maximum radius of 50km. The app’s slogan was, “So many people come and go in this city every day; you’re bound to meet your soulmate.”

This line seemed to touch many people’s hearts. Ever since they changed to this slogan, user growth had skyrocketed and app stickiness had increased. So, even with fewer users, the app could operate very well. As a result, the salaries at her company were higher than those of their competitors.

After sending out one of the day’s promotional ads, Xu Shi started staring blankly at her friends list again.

She had 593 people on her friends list. Aside from the friends and family she had added initially, she didn’t know any of the others.

She wished she could be like her other colleagues, clattering away on the keyboard, chatting and laughing with netizens, and then coaxing them into doing the survey. But she didn’t seem to have that ability.

Half a month ago, she added a young girl. After what seemed like a long and pleasant chat, Xu Shi ended up chickening out.

The girl was very nice, but Xu Shi didn’t want to bother her with such a pointless and time-wasting survey. Her conversation with the girl wasn’t genuine either; it was all from the script booklet provided by the company.

She herself was boring, not a sweet-talker, and didn’t even like to chat, yet the girl was saying how happy she was to have met her.

Xu Shi felt incredibly guilty. After she failed to reply several times, the matter just fizzled out.

Her supervisor was right. She really wasn’t suited for this job.

Today was the 30th. Xu Shi opened the “People Nearby” feature as usual. The first page listed ten people.

The first one had a profile picture of a greasy-haired uncle. Xu Shi had no interest. The next one down had a blank profile picture and no bio. It looked like a new registration. The name was “Heard.”

Xu Shi stopped scrolling and directly added “Heard” as a friend.

In less than five seconds, the other person accepted her request. Xu Shi looked at the form from her supervisor on her desktop and, on impulse, typed out three lines.

Yan Wuwu: Hello

Yan Wuwu: Sorry, this might be a bit forward, but do you have a moment? I have a survey I was hoping you could help me fill out.

Yan Wuwu: It’s urgent.

After sending those three messages, Xu Shi was so embarrassed she wanted to close the app. It was no less awkward than the times she’d handed out flyers at a mall entrance, only to have people walk past coldly without a second glance.

Xu Shi waited in agony for the other person to reject her, or maybe even call her a psycho.

But a few seconds later.

Heard said: Send it over.

Xu Shi sat bolt upright and immediately sent the survey link.

Then she said: It’s long. Very long. And there’s a lot of content.

Yan Wuwu: You can take a look first. It’s okay if you don’t fill it out.

Yan Wuwu: Thank you so much.

Yan Wuwu: Sorry to bother you, sorry to bother you.

Such a trivial matter, and with a stranger no less, had somehow made Xu Shi extremely nervous.

But then, the other person went silent.

No reply for a minute, then three minutes, then five.

Xu Shi let out a slow sigh, sensing the outcome. She exited the chat window, went back, and refreshed the “People Nearby” list. The greasy-haired uncle appeared again.

Xu Shi wanted to expand the search range. Just as she was about to add the next person who caught her eye, the netizen named “Heard” sent a message.

Xu Shi quickly clicked on it. The message from “Heard” was the survey link Xu Shi had sent her. She opened it and saw that it had been completely filled out.

Xu Shi sucked in a sharp breath. She slowly cupped her face, stunned for several seconds before she remembered to type in the chat box.

Yan Wuwu: Thank you, thank you! Thank you so much!

Heard asked: Is one enough?

“No way,” Xu Shi said out loud in surprise.

She hesitated for a long while, then gritted her teeth and sent: Not enough.

Heard: How many more do you need?

Yan Wuwu: Eight.

Heard: Wait for me.

Yan Wuwu: Okay!

Yan Wuwu: Thank you!

Heard: You’re welcome.

Heard: Just a bleeding heart, that’s all.

Xu Shi thanked her several more times, then quickly entered the answers from the completed survey into the feedback form from her supervisor. After that, she did nothing else but stay in the chat window with “Heard.”

Maximized it. And waited.

Ten minutes later, “Heard” sent eight links all at once.

Xu Shi nearly fainted. She first typed out two full lines of “thank you” to “Heard” before opening and downloading the links one by one.

Heard: I’ll be busy for a bit. Half an hour.

Yan Wuwu: Okay, okay, you go ahead.

It was perfect timing, as Xu Shi needed to organize the feedback forms. She quickly processed the remaining eight, entered all the data, checked that there were no problems, and sent it to her supervisor within the half-hour.

Then she timed it perfectly, returning to the chat window with “Heard” to wait for her to come back.

Ten thirty-two.

Heard said: I’m back.

Half an hour meant half an hour. The timing was precise to the minute.

Yan Wuwu: I’m here, I’m here.

Heard: In a good mood?

“Good mood” couldn’t even begin to describe how Xu Shi felt right now. She was in a fantastic mood. In all her time working, she had never been this happy. The stress of the month had vanished in an instant.

Yan Wuwu: Very good. Exceptionally good.

Yan Wuwu: Thank you so much, miss. You helped me out in a huge way.

“Heard” must have actually been free now. Her profile picture had changed to a photo of a girl holding a cat, though her face wasn’t visible.

Still no bio.

Heard: You’re welcome.

Normally, a conversation like this would have ended here, and Xu Shi would have had no idea how to continue it. But given the circumstances today, if Xu Shi didn’t say something more, she felt she would be letting herself down, being a bit heartless.

So she thought about it, holding it in for a long time, before sending a message she wasn’t sure was appropriate.

Yan Wuwu: Miss, are you always this nice?

After sending it, she thought for a moment and added another compliment: So helpful.

Yan Wuwu: Really nice, so kind.

Xu Shi couldn’t imagine how the person named “Heard” on the other end was laughing when she saw that.

Heard: I’m a fortune teller. Last night at the hour of Zi, I did a reading for myself. The hexagram said that today was a suitable day to randomly select a passerby and help her with one thing, no strings attached.

Heard: This way, my luck will turn around too.

Xu Shi was momentarily confused, but she still replied: Wow, so mysterious.

Yan Wuwu: So cool.

Yan Wuwu: Hope your luck turns around.

Heard asked: Do you believe in fate?

Xu Shi had always kept a respectful distance from gods and Buddhas and didn’t have strong feelings about them, but she knew she should say something positive right now.

Yan Wuwu: I do.

Heard: Do you believe in destiny?

Yan Wuwu: I do.

Heard: Do you believe in me?

Yan Wuwu: I do.

Heard: Am I your fate or your destiny?

Xu Shi paused, suddenly not knowing how to answer.

What is this?

A moment later, “Heard” sent another message.

Heard: Just kidding.

Heard: I have to get busy. You focus on work.

Yan Wuwu: Okay.

Yan Wuwu: Goodbye, miss.

Xu Shi didn’t leave the page right away. Instead, she scrolled up and down, reading through it again.

Her team leader always said she was a conversation killer, and it was true. Every one of her replies here ended the conversation, leaving no desire to continue chatting.

And it seemed this “Heard” person really believed in divination? So mysterious.

Thanks to this strange netizen, Xu Shi’s evening summary meeting was much more relaxed, and her steps felt lighter on the way home.

After dinner, she opened the chat window with “Heard” again. She agonized over the screen for a long time before mustering the courage to send a greeting.

Yan Wuwu: Miss, have you eaten?

The moment she sent it, the “typing” indicator appeared on Heard’s end.

She said: Were you busy today?

Yan Wuwu: It was okay. I got off work on time today.

Heard: So you just didn’t think of me.

Heard: I see.

Xu Shi paused. They were clearly just words on a screen, but for some reason, her ears processed them into a sound.

Inexplicably, it was Yu Lingshan’s voice.

A low, languid voice, tinged with a hint of grievance.