Wu Jie was about to head back. She said to Xie An’yu, “Anyway, it doesn’t cost anything. If you’re interested, you can look into how to do it later. Are you still running?”
Xie An’yu nodded.
“Then you run on your own. I’m heading back; I can’t run anymore.”
“Then keep running. I’m heading back—I can’t go anymore.”
“Mm.”
Xie An’yu ran a few more laps along the roads near the neighborhood. Midway, he encountered Wu Jie passing by on her electric scooter. Wu Jie clicked her tongue at him, making a crisp sound that caused him to turn his head.
“You really can run,” Wu Jie said, braking her scooter. “You didn’t bring your phone, did you? My mom couldn’t find you and called several times.”
Xie An’yu hummed in acknowledgment. “I didn’t bring it. What did Auntie need?”
“Nothing urgent. I told her you were jogging downstairs, and she’s already left for work.”
“Where are you going?” Xie An’yu asked.
“The library.”
Wu Jie had graduated from university almost a year ago. Not long before, she had quit her job and decided to pursue postgraduate studies, so she was currently reviewing for her exams.
Xie An’yu thought his cousin was really driven, heading to the library so early. While he was still lost in thought, Wu Jie had already zoomed off on her scooter, waving at him without looking back. “I’m going.”
She wore a beige helmet with a cute little bear pattern, her retreating figure looked quite free-spirited.
After finishing his run, Xie An’yu wandered the streets, looking for places that might be hiring. There were many small alleys and lanes near the neighborhood, bustling but mostly filled with small privately owned shops—breakfast stalls, hardware stores, phone repair shops… The storefronts were small, with only one person running each, clearly not the kind of places that would hire.
Xie An’yu didn’t have many skills. Aside from fishing, he was decent at cooking and some handicrafts, so his options were limited. A few shops had ‘Help Wanted’ signs posted outside, with salaries listed. He didn’t know how the pay compared to the standard in Beicheng, but it was definitely much higher than most jobs back on Shuangye Isle.
This area was still some distance from the city center, more of a suburban fringe. Xie An’yu walked for a long time before the shops along the street gradually increased—small restaurants, bubble tea shops, pet stores… One small restaurant had a ‘Help Wanted’ signs posted on its door: ‘Kitchen Assistant Wanted, Salary Negotiable’. Xie An’yu thought he could handle the job, so he knocked on the door and went straight in.
The shop looked new, as if it had just been renovated, probably opened not long ago. It wasn’t mealtime, so there were no customers inside. The cashier counter near the entrance was unmanned. Xie An’yu only saw a lean young man sweeping the floor near the dining tables.
“Hello…” Xie An’yu greeted him, but the young man didn’t respond, not even turning his head.
Xie An’yu knocked on the door again. The young man’s back remained turned, still showing no reaction. Feeling awkward, Xie An’yu stood frozen at the entrance, unsure whether to go in or leave. A man smoking a cigarette walked out from inside, glanced at the door, and asked Xie An’yu, “What’s up?”
“I saw the job posting outside. Sir, are you still hiring a kitchen assistant?”
“Sir? Do I look that old?” The other person smiled with a cigarette in his mouth.
“Yes, we’re hiring. Come in.” He walked over to the young man who was sweeping. The young man looked up, and only after seeing the person gestured behind him, did the young man turn to look at Xie An’yu. He had delicate, refined features. It was then that Xie An’yu realized—this person might be deaf and mute.
“Have a seat.” The man with a cigarette in his mouth was presumably the boss. He casually pulled out a chair and sat down, stubbing out his cigarette in the ashtray.
Xie An’yu sat across from him. The man studied him for a moment before asking, “How old are you?”
“Eighteen.”
“So young. Can you cook?”
“Yes.”
“How good are you?”
“…Decent.” Xie An’yu lowered his gaze to the plastic ashtray on the table. He heard the man chuckle and say, “What, shy now?”
Xie An’yu wasn’t shy—he just wasn’t used to this. When face-to-face with a stranger, he never knew where to look.
Xie An’yu remained silent, his muscles tense, his expression blank. His demeanor made it easy to mistake him for someone who couldn’t take a joke, and in fact, the boss had already mentally labeled him as ‘hard to handle’.
But people were visual creatures, and the boss, swayed by Xie An’yu’s good appearance, decided to let it slide.
“Worked in a restaurant before?”
Xie An’yu said, “Yes.” In truth, he was quite skilled at cooking. Back when he worked as a kitchen assistant at a restaurant on the island, the head chef had fallen ill and taken half a month off—Xie An’yu handled all the work himself during that time.
“Alright. Did you bring your ID card?”
“…No.”
The boss saw his sweatpants and chuckled, “Did you just stroll in here while out for a walk? How about this, leave me your phone number, and come back here at this time tomorrow with your ID card. We haven’t officially opened yet, so there’s no work for you to do today.”
“So you mean…?”
“Three-day trial. If it works out, you stay. If not, find somewhere else.”
***
Wu Jie didn’t return home until noon. The moment she stepped inside, she noticed the place was unusually clean—the items on the coffee table and sofa were neatly arranged, and there wasn’t a speck of dust in sight.
“Xie An’yu?” she called out, walking further in and find him sitting on the balcony. The aroma of food wafted from the kitchen.
“You cooked?” Wu Jie was a bit surprised; she had originally planned to order two takeout meals.
Xie An’yu turned his head. “I went to the market and bought some groceries. Just made a simple meal.”
“You have money to buy groceries?”
“Didn’t spend much.” In reality, prices in Beicheng were much higher than on Shuangye Isle, and vegetable prices were also higher. Xie An’yu’s already meager three-digit savings had dwindled further.
“Did you eat?” Wu Jie glanced towards the balcony. “What are you doing cooped up on the balcony?”
“I’m looking into that mini-program. Go ahead and eat—I’ve already had mine.”
Xie An’yu had been researching it all morning. Registering an account on this mini-program required an application first. After approval, there was a review process, followed by signing a contract. Only after signing the contract could he become an official employee of the platform and start earning money. Since customers placed orders directly through the platform, payments were processed through the platform too—the platform took a cut before transferring the remaining amount to the employee’s account.
The customer service rep had sent over the application form with a note: 【Please fill out truthfully according to your actual details. Asterisked fields are mandatory. Please try to avoid leaving any blanks~】
Xie An’yu opened it and skimmed through. Aside from standard info like gender, age, and ethnicity, there was also one somewhat embarrassing mandatory field—measurements.
“Why do they need this…?” Xie An’yu muttered to himself.
He filled in what he could first.
Legal Name: Xie An’yu
Nickname: Xiao Dao
Gender: Male
Age: 18
Zodiac Sign: Gemini
Blood Type: B
When it came to filling in his height and weight, Xie An’yu paused—he wasn’t sure about either of these. The last time he’d measured his height and weight was during his middle school graduation physical exam, and those numbers were long outdated now. He skipped those two blanks and moved on.
Education: Middle school
Occupation: None
Hobbies: Handicrafts, running, fishing, beachcombing, cooking
Personality was an optional section with two choices: a. Extroverted; b. Introverted
The terms sounded a bit academic, but Xie An’yu figured they probably meant something similar to ‘outgoing’ and ‘reserved’. He chose introverted.
When he reached the sexual orientation section, Xie An’yu hesitated again. This was also an optional section, with three choices: a. Heterosexual; b. Homosexual; c. Love is love (gender doesn’t matter).
Xie An’yu felt like he’d never really liked anyone growing up—neither boys nor girls. He assumed he probably liked girls, but the wording of the third option resonated with him more.
After some thought, Xie An’yu chose c.
Besides basic information, there were also some free-response short-answer questions, all marked with an asterisk, meaning they were mandatory.
1. Q: If your client confides in you about unpleasant experiences in their life, how should you respond?
A: Listen carefully.
2. Q: If an unavoidable conflict arises between you and your client, how should you respond?
A: Refund the money.
3. Q: State your advantages as a ‘Limited-Time Boyfriend’?
A: ——
Xie An’yu genuinely couldn’t come up with anything for this one.
Wu Jie walked over, pulled a napkin from the coffee table, wiped her mouth, and asked, “How’s the research going?”
Xie An’yu looked troubled: “The application form is a bit hard to fill out.”
“You need to fill out an application form? That’s quite formal.” Wu Jie reached out her hand. “Let me see.”
Xie An’yu handed her the phone.
“Cousin, do you have a measuring tape at home?”
“What for?”
Xie An’yu found it a bit difficult to say: “…The application form requires measurements, I need to measure myself.”
Wu Jie burst out laughing. “They actually want you to fill that out? Hold on, I’ll help you find one later.”
“It also asks for height and weight…”
“You don’t know your own height and weight?”
“Haven’t measured them in years.”
“There’s a free height and weight scale at the supermarket downstairs. I’ll take you there later to check.” Wu Jie held the phone, looking at the application form Xie An’yu had filled out, and suddenly looked up at him: “You didn’t go to high school?”
“I did, but only until my second year.”
“Then why did you write ‘middle school’ for your education?”
“I didn’t graduate from high school.”
“Should I call you honest or just naive? If you write it like that, they’ll think you only finished middle school. For this kind of form, just fill it out casually—it’s not like they’ll do a background check on you. You could’ve written ‘Bachelor’s degree’ and gotten away with it. I’ll fix it for you.”
Xie An’yu said, “Just change it to high school, then.”
“Got it.”
When she scrolled down to the short-answer section, Wu Jie was amused. “Your answers to these short-answer questions are pretty bold, huh? Straight to the point, no wasted words.”
Xie An’yu looked a little embarrassed: “…I couldn’t think of anything.”
“Why didn’t you fill this one out? Your advantages.”
“Didn’t know what to write…”
Wu Jie said, “Just write ‘handsome’.”
“Huh?”
Wu Jie grinned, though it was hard to tell if she was joking or serious. “You don’t think that’s one of your advantage? Just write it. Confident people are invincible.”
Xie An’yu was amused and obediently wrote ‘handsome’ in the blank, then added a few more items—can fish, can cook.
At the bottom of the form, three recent photos taken within the past month were required: one full-body shot, one close-up, and one candid photo.
Wu Jie asked, “You need to upload photos here. Should I take them for you?”
“Okay.”
Wu Jie glanced at his faded tracksuit and considered suggesting he change clothes, but after a moment’s hesitation, she decided to just take the photos as is.
“Stand naturally, don’t pose like you’re standing at attention, it’s too stiff.”
Wu Jie took several full-body shots, but Xie An’yu remained rigid in all of them. She was nearly exasperated: “Can you relax a bit, handsome?!”
Her outburst made Xie An’yu flinch, but his tense expression finally loosened, resulting in a relatively natural full-body photo.
“Now for a close-up. Relax a bit for me, okay?”
Gradually getting the hang of it, Xie An’yu became more comfortable. His expression was much more natural during the close-up. Standing against the light on the balcony, he seemed outlined by a soft glow, his gaze still clear and bright.
“We can take the candid photo later, no rush. I’ll go find a measuring tape for you.” Wu Jie had used her own phone to take the photos since Xie An’yu’s phone had low resolution. She opened the album to review the shots she had just taken. She had to admit, although the person in the photos had a slightly tense expression, his face was undeniably photogenic, and his physique—broad shoulders, lean back, and long legs—was striking. His sun-kissed skin added to his healthy, youthful aura.
Most importantly, his youthfulness gave him an innate boyish charm.
She figured that even if Xie An’yu’s short-answer questions were filled out in that bizarre way, the reviewers would probably overlook it once they saw his photos.
Wu Jie measured Xie An’yu’s body dimensions with a tape, though the numbers were likely inaccurate since he was clothed. Then she took him to the supermarket downstairs to measure his height and weight. Afterward, they strolled through the supermarket for a while, during which Wu Jie snapped a few candid shots of him, completing the requirement for the candid photo.
In addition to the application form, the platform also required applicants to upload a 30-second voice recording. Xie An’yu randomly found a modern poem online, read it aloud, recorded it, and submitted it along with the application form to the platform’s customer service.
That evening, Xie An’yu received the approval notification. Everyone was eating at the time, and he smiled slightly as he looked at his phone screen.
***
After dinner, Xie Li shooed Xie An’yu out of the kitchen when he tried to wash the dishes. Wu Jie was wiping the table outside, and without looking up, she asked, “Did you get approved?”
Xie An’yu hummed in affirmation.
Wu Jie chuckled, “I knew it.”
Xie An’yu returned to his room and carefully read through the contract agreement sent by customer service. Since the job posed virtually no risk or cost to the contracted staff, the terms were relatively straightforward, with no exploitative clauses.
The customer service sent two links.
Customer Service 007: 【After reviewing the agreement and confirming there are no issues, please click Link 1 to upload photos of the front and back of your ID card and bank card. Then click Link 2 to complete your electronic signature.】
Xie An’yu: 【What if I don’t have a bank card?】
The customer service sent another link.
Customer Service 007: “For those without a bank card, please click this link to fill in your WeChat payment account or Alipay account.”
Customer Service 007: 【Those without a bank card, please click this link to provide your WeChat Pay[mfn]微信收款賬戶 (Wēixìn shōu kuǎn zhàng hù): WeChat Pay, officially referred to as Weixin Pay 微信支付 (Wēixìn zhī fù) in China, is a mobile payment and digital wallet service by WeChat based in China that allows users to make mobile payments and online transactions.[/mfn] or Alipay[mfn]支付寶 (zhī fù bǎo): Alipay is a third-party mobile and online payment platform, established in Hangzhou, China in February 2004 by Alibaba Group and its founder Jack Ma. Along with WeChat, Alipay has been described to be China’s super-app with a wide range of functionalities including ridesharing, travel booking and medical appointments.[/mfn] account details.】
Xie An’yu uploaded all the necessary files, filled in the required forms, signed where needed, and after submitting everything, the backend sent a notification confirming his successful contract signing—
【Congratulations on becoming a new employee of [Limited-Time Boyfriend]!
Our slogan is: “Sweet words and honeyed phrases are the primary productive force.”】
Customer Service 007: 【《Employee Handbook》.docx】
Customer Service 007: 【《Important Notes》.docx】
Customer Service 007: 【Congratulations on your successful signing, Xiao Gege[mfn]小哥哥 (xiǎo gē ge): little elder brother; (neologism, endearing, slang) a cute term of address for a young man. Xiao Gege is an Internet buzzword that became popular in 2017 because of a related joke on the Internet; Xiao Gege sounds so gentle and kind, and he looks so pretty when he smiles. After the term became popular, it was most commonly used in fan circles, with a large number of fangirls calling their idols Xiao Gege. This word is often used to describe good-looking boys, expressing a kind of intimate affection. It is fundamentally different from the word Xiao Ge [小哥 (xiǎo gē), little brother] which is often used out of courtesy.[/mfn]! Above are the employee handbook and important notes. Please read them carefully and be sure to avoid the various situations mentioned in the documents.】
Customer Service 007: 【《How to Become an Excellent Virtual Partner》.docx】
Customer Service 007: 【You can refer to the above document for some chatting tips. Wishing you great success[mfn]財源廣進 (cái yuán guǎng jìn): lit. [May your] source fortune aplenty; a greeting used on Chinese New Year to wish for great fortune upon the listener in business; May a river of gold flow into your pockets; an auspicious phrase passed down from mouth to mouth among the people. It means that a lot of wealth will come into one home from all directions.[/mfn]~】
Xie An’yu opened his profile page. His avatar was now adorned with a bronze-colored small badge. The badge on the avatar likely represented his rank—different colors for different levels. His was a bronze badge, which should be the lowest tier.
He scrolled down for a while before spotting an avatar with a gold badge. Not only did this person have a gold badge, but their avatar also had a small bubble floating above that read ‘Top Performer’.
In the old brothels of yesteryear, this would probably be the equivalent of the star courtesan.
Soon after, two system notifications popped up—
【System Notification 1: Please upload a one-line voice introduction as required by the platform. Failure to do so before the deadline will result in a three-day account suspension. Please take note.】
【System Notification 2: Your personal attribute tags have not been filled out yet. To ensure accurate client matching, please complete them as soon as possible.】
There were preset attribute tags to choose from. Xie An’yu picked a few that somewhat matched him—
#DogPerson[mfn]汪星人派 (wāng xīng rén pài): 汪星人 (wāng xīng rén) lit. alien from the planet Woof; (slang) dog. An internet buzzwords. It anthropomorphizes dogs into alien creatures from the distant “Wang Planet”, implying that dogs gain human trust through their cute appearance. 派 (pài) could mean clique; group; faction.[/mfn]#, #LovesSports#, #Foodie#
After filling out the tags, he recorded his voice introduction, stumbling through several takes before finally uploading one.
Xie An’yu checked the time—it was already nine o’clock. He had spent the entire evening just on this.
***
At nine o’clock, the bar was just starting to get lively. Zhou Yi had picked a relatively a less chaotic bar—one without a dance floor where a bunch of handsome men and beautiful women were wildly dancing, and the music was relatively less boisterous. This was a themed bar with a distinct personality—not as rowdy as a club, but not as refined as a quiet lounge.
A band was performing on stage. When the song ended, Zhou Yi grabbed his drumsticks and walked off the stage.
The person taking over for him on the stage called out from behind the drum set, “Hey, Professor Zhou, leave the drumsticks for me! I still need them for the song after next.”
“These are mine. Use your own. Why take mine?” Zhou Yi playfully twirled the drumsticks in his hand, tossing them into the air before catching them smoothly.
“I’m just filling in last minute—where am I supposed to get drumsticks?”
Zhou Yi tossed the drumsticks onto the stage. “Take good care of them. Don’t mistreat my baby.”
The other guy scrambled to catch them, laughing and cursing, “Damn it! Telling me not to mistreat your baby, then you just carelessly throw them around!”
Zhou Yi burst out laughing and took a seat at the bar, ordering a drink. He nudged Yu Feng beside him with his elbow and pulled out his phone. “Use your phone to search for a name for me.”
Yu Feng turned his head. “Mm?”
Zhou Yi opened a WeChat mini-program and said, “I registered an account here. See if you can find me.”
Yu Feng glanced down at his phone, utterly confused. “What’s this?”
“Search for the mini-program [Limited-Time Boyfriend],” Zhou Yi explained. “You know about virtual boyfriends, right? Chatting to earn money.I registered an account, go support me, I want to see if I can actually earn something.”
Yu Feng froze for two seconds before looking up at him. “Did you get fired from the school?”
Zhou Yi laughed. “Screw you. You’re the one who got fired.”
“If you weren’t fired, why are you so desperate for cash? I thought you’d gone crazy from being broke.”
“Does Professor Zhou look like someone who’s short on money?” Zhou Yi fiddled with his phone. “I just thought it looked fun. I saw a student playing with it the other day, so I registered an account.”
Zhou Yi was a university professor—the kind who was down-to-earth and a bit unconventional. After class, he loved chatting with students in the front row and treated them like friends, never putting on airs.
“Your students still play this?” Yu Feng said as he opened WeChat.
“That little brat spent the whole class with his head down, glued to his phone. During the break, I teased him a bit, asked what he was up to. He said he was making money.” Zhou Yi chuckled as he spoke. “How are kids these days so resourceful? It’s amazing.”
“Search for ‘zoe’ in that mini-program. See if I pop up.” Zhou Yi held his glass, tilting his head to peek at Yu Feng’s phone. “Found me yet?”
“Yeah.”
“Place an order for me.”
“How do I order?”
Zhou Yi took Yu Feng’s phone and placed a 5-minute text chat order for himself—the cheapest option available.
The order required a WeChat ID, so Zhou Yi entered Yu Feng’s. Shortly after, his own phone buzzed with a contact card pushed by the platform’s customer service. Only after successfully adding the friend did the platform show the order as successful.
“Quite interesting, it’s actually not a scam…” Zhou Yi said, as he swiped through the screen. “Let me see if there are any handsome guys—I’ll find one to chat with you.”
Zhou Yi looked up at Yu Feng and saw him side-eyeing him. Grinning, he said, “Don’t look at me like that. This platform provides services for all sexual orientations. Girls can get fake boyfriends, and so can guys.”
“Why don’t you find one for yourself?”
“If I liked guys, I would. Stop talking nonsense.” Zhou Yi feigned seriousness. “Besides, I’m already a ‘staff’ here. Everyone else on this platform is my potential competitor—my rival. Who CP up[mfn]組cp (zǔ CP): CP stands for ‘couple’. “組cp” typically refers to forming a romantic or fictional couple pairing in Chinese internet slang. It is commonly used to describe the pairing of characters or real-life individuals in fan fiction or fan art, where fans imagine or create relationships between them. The term “組cp” can be translated into English as “OTP” which stands for “One True Pairing.” This term is commonly used in fandom culture to refer to a fan’s favorite romantic pairing or relationship in a work of fiction or between real-life individuals.[/mfn] with their rival?”
Yu Feng almost laughed. “Where do you even pick up these ridiculous terms?”
He’d never met a more unorthodox public school teacher in his life.
“Want Professor Zhou to find you a CP[mfn]T/N: CP stands for ‘couple’, this Internet slang term is often used to describe couples in movies or TV series. Sometimes it is also used to describe real-life couples.[/mfn]?”
Yu Feng had drunk quite a bit and was feeling a little lightheaded. Normally, he wouldn’t indulge Zhou Yi’s nonsense, but tonight, he was willing to play along. “Whatever.”
[dropdown title=”List of Idiom in Chapter 04″]
整整齊齊 (zhěng zhěng qí qí): neat and tidy; in good trim; be arranged to a nicety; as clean as a pin; apple-pie order; to keep neat and orderly.愁眉苦臉 (chóu méi kǔ liǎn): with knitted brows and a doleful look; looking distressed; to look anxious (idiom); to look miserable; look worried and depressed; look gloomy/miserable; wear a worried/sad/distressed/agonized look; pull a glum face.
惜字如金 (xī zì rú jīn): lit. cherishes words like gold; reticent; to be extremely economical with words when writing, and not to waste too much ink.
所向披靡 (suǒ xiàng pī mǐ): to sweep everything before one; to be invincible (idiom); unassailable; impregnable; unconquerable; sweep everything before one; carry all before one; a metaphor for where the power reaches, the enemy is defeated and all obstacles are removed.
漸入佳境 (jiàn rù jiā jìng): to start doing well; (of a situation) to be getting better; be improving; From an episode in the seventh-century history Book of Jin, concerning the famous painter Gu Kaizhi.
甜言蜜語 (tián yán mì yǔ): (idiom) sweet words and honeyed phrases; cajolery; sweet talk; words as sweet as honey; a metaphor for saying nice things in order to please or coax others.
群魔亂舞 (qún mó luàn wǔ): lit. evil spirits of all kinds dance in riotous revelry; (figurative) rogues of all kinds running wild; evil-doers dominating the stage unrestrained; a host of demons dancing in riotous revelry; rogues of all kinds running wild; demons dancing in chaos; pandemonium; chaotic situation; bedlam; tumultuous scene; wild disorder; havoc; a group of demons are dancing and jumping around. It is a metaphor for a group of bad guys running rampant on the political stage.
一頭霧水 (yī tóu wù shuǐ): to be confused; to be baffled; unable to make head or tail of sth; to be completely muddle-headed; be at sea/at a loss; be perplexed/puzzled.
煞有介事 (shà yǒu jiè shì): in all apparent seriousness; to make a show of being very much in earnest (idiom); to act as if one is taking things very seriously; pretend to be serious; act as if something is very important; put on a solemn air; make a fuss; make a big deal out of nothing; a dialect in the Jiangsu and Zhejiang regions, meaning that something is really happening. It means pretending to be serious and making people believe that something is really happening.
亂七八糟 (luàn qī bā zāo): everything in disorder (idiom); in a hideous mess; at sixes and sevens; in an awful mess; in great disorder; Describe disorder, unorganized, and disorderly.
[/dropdown]Check out my completed & current project at my carrd. If you like my translation, you can buy me coffee at Ko-fi~ Thank you.