Hao Ren lived up to his name—a good man through and through.

He hailed from an obscure northern town, a place so minor it might’ve barely qualified as part of Beijing’s urban sprawl if the city ever expanded to a twenty-third or thirtieth ring road. By all accounts, he was the epitome of an ordinary nobody. If "Good Person Cards" were handed out based on puns, he might’ve achieved nationwide fame. But in reality, no one on the street recognized him. For over twenty years, he’d lived with a square, unremarkable face that was only distinguished by a vague air of masculinity. His life goal was simple: be a good man. Beyond that, he had no distinguishing traits—just your average Joe.

It was now early summer, early June, when the northern heat was just beginning to creep in. Though the weather was cooler than down south, walking under the blazing midday sun was still enough to sour anyone’s mood. The city center buzzed with traffic, but the sidewalks were eerily empty—few dared brave the heat. Among the sparse pedestrians was a tall young man in a white T-shirt, gray slacks, and an unremarkable face: Hao Ren.

He clutched a few sheets of paper, sticking to the shade of trees and building overhangs as he walked. The honking of cars and the incessant chirping of cicadas grated on his nerves, but oddly, none of it seemed to bother him. He trudged forward, occasionally flicking his soaked shirt to cool off, his eyes fixed on the papers in his hand—two job ads and a flyer a college girl had handed him earlier. The flyer featured a smiling, radiant girl with bold text beneath: Jinrong Maternity Hospital—Specializing in...

Hao Ren snorted. Kids these days are lazy. Back when he’d handed out flyers for extra cash, he’d never waste one on a guy who looked like a confirmed bachelor. Still, the stiff paper made for a decent fan.

"Last two places to check. If these don’t pan out, screw it."

He muttered to himself, eyeing the final two job ads. Thankfully, they were close to each other, so he could wrap up his "mission" quickly. The first was right ahead—a so-called "ad agency" whose exterior gave no hint of its actual size. But the sign out front? Absolutely ridiculous: Galaxy Media—Pan-Cultural Development & Promotion Co. The name reeked of a company doomed to fold within six months. Hao Ren had picked it specifically for the absurdity, curious to see what kind of lunatic would come up with such a name.

He trudged a few hundred meters, detoured around a median barrier, and arrived at the gloriously named agency—only to find its doors shuttered. The sign still hung, but a "CLOSED" notice was plastered on the glass, dated two days prior. Meanwhile, the job ad in his hand was from four days ago.

What a fast-paced world. Were companies now hiring replacements two days before going under just to soften the blow?

He crumpled the ad and tossed it into a roadside bin. Then he turned to the last flyer—and within two seconds, crumpled that one too, throwing it in the same bin. He paused, wondering if he’d lost his mind when he’d picked these. The final ad was for a bus company, seeking an office clerk (female, ages 25-40, computer literate, work experience preferred).

He’d come all the way downtown for this? To admire the glass door of a company that’d gone bankrupt two days before even posting the job? What a waste.

Hao Ren: Male, 25, single, no vices, enjoys food without pickiness.

His strengths? He wasn’t a picky eater. His flaws? No close friends, no family nearby, living alone in his parents’ old house in the south of the city. Like most young men, his life goal was simple: earn 10K/month by 25, marry a pretty wife, ideally with a car. Since he couldn’t support his aging parents, at least he could live well enough to avoid disgracing the family.

So far? He’d achieved one-third of his goal—he was 25. tragic tale, really.

Today’s trip to the city was job-hunting, though truthfully, he wasn’t desperate. Thanks to his parents’ legacy, he had a roof over his head—a two-story old house he’d converted into a makeshift rental apartment.

For years, he’d survived on rental income. The problem? His place was so remote it might as well be in another dimension. Even if the government demolished it for redevelopment, it wouldn’t happen for at least a decade. The rent was decent—not enough to get rich, but enough to live comfortably as a bachelor.

By all rights, he didn’t need a job. But idle hands make the devil’s work, and Hao Ren, like many young men, felt the itch to "do something" with his life. The bigger reason? His rental business was dying. The last tenant—a migrant worker couple—had moved out half a year ago, and the place had sat empty ever since. Staring at those two silent floors, Hao Ren had a revelation: unless the city suddenly decided to build a mall next door, he’d have to get a job.

After three days of researching urban plans, he concluded that his neighborhood wasn’t about to become a commercial hub overnight. Since he couldn’t just waste away, he resolved to find work—anything to keep money coming in.

Back in the day, I worked part-time to pay tuition. Surely I won’t starve now, right?

But fate, as always, had other plans. His first day of job-hunting had been an unmitigated disaster.

Meh. No use dwelling on it.

He stretched, deciding to rest under the shade of a park bench until the worst of the midday heat passed. Then he’d grab a bite at a small restaurant before heading home.

Thankfully, this nowhere-near-tier-three northern town still retained some small-city charm despite its rapid development. Public green spaces were plentiful—even downtown, there were parks tucked between buildings.

He wiped down a bench with a scrap of paper, plopped down, and covered his face with the flyer featuring the hospital’s logo and the smiling girl to block the sun. He wasn’t about to sleep, of course—thieves these days were bold enough to rob saints—but a quick nap to beat the heat wouldn’t hurt.

Or so he thought.

Barely a minute had passed when the sunlight filtering through the flyer dimmed. Someone was standing nearby.

Hao Ren blinked, lifting his head in surprise. The sky was now sunset-red, and a petite, slender figure stood beside him, blocking the dying sunlight. From his angle, backlit, he couldn’t make out her features—only a vague silhouette of a short-haired girl.

"Oh. You’re awake?"

The stranger’s voice was casually familiar, accompanied by a wave. Hao Ren sat up straight, first glancing around to confirm the time—yep, he’d actually slept through half the afternoon. Then he turned to study the girl.

She seemed to realize her position made her face invisible, so she grinned and shifted sideways to reveal herself.

Damn. She’s pretty.

That was Hao Ren’s first thought.

She wore a breezy outfit—a snug white tank top with a slightly childish plastic puppy charm on the collar, paired with dark shorts and sneakers. She looked like a college girl who’d skipped class to go shopping. Her short hair framed a sun-kissed face, her skin a healthy wheatish tone from outdoor activity. But the real showstopper was her eyes—bright, lively, brimming with an energy Hao Ren had rarely seen in anyone, let alone a girl her age.

Behind her stood a sizable suitcase.

The girl beamed at Hao Ren’s dazed expression—a smile so unguarded and pure it was almost too innocent for someone her age. She rummaged through her bag, finally producing a crumpled piece of paper and holding it out: "Excuse me, do you know where this place is?"

Hao Ren slapped his cheeks to wake himself up. Ignoring the mystery of her sudden appearance, he glanced at the address...

"...Wait, this is my house?!"