Blue Cocktail chapter 31
The phone in his hand suddenly vibrated again.
The Unscrupulous Tycoon, Mr. Lu: Also, your handwriting is really nice / heart emoji.
Cheng Shuo suddenly snapped back to reality.
So, how should he respond to Lu Huaiqian’s message?
No matter how he replied in the text box, it seemed like he was continuing the other party’s topic.
Cheng Shuo wished Lu Huaiqian would lose his memory, forget about the letter he wrote. He rarely took the initiative to show weakness to others or express his inner thoughts. He was not accustomed to emotional expression; it felt too artificial and exposed his true self, making him feel uneasy.
However, the Cheng Shuo of last Friday night didn’t know that Lu Huaiqian would piece together the torn letter. If he had known, he wouldn’t have written this apology letter.
At that time, he just felt he had done something wrong. He sat alone at his desk, biting the pen cap while pondering and revising the wording repeatedly. He worried that the words wouldn’t convey his feelings properly. Subconsciously, he didn’t want to reveal too much about the past, but at the same time, he feared he might intentionally conceal something, which could be perceived as insincere.
After wasting half a stack of paper, he finally put together the words. He neatly transcribed them onto a blank sheet of paper. As soon as he finished writing, Cheng Shuo quickly folded the letter into three, sealed it in an envelope with glue, and, despite lacking the courage, didn’t look at it again. Although he had memorized the contents of the letter, he couldn’t bring himself to read it one more time.
Even before sending out the letter, Cheng Shuo had struggled in his heart.
When he arrived at the entrance of the bar, he hesitated and lingered. The voices in his mind were in conflict. On the one hand, admitting one’s mistakes was a sign of strength, but on the other hand, they were like strangers. They had known each other for such a short time, and there were countless friends who went their separate ways after a falling out. Lu Huaiqian’s importance in his heart couldn’t be that great, so it wasn’t worth it.
But he still sent it.
Why?
Perhaps because it was useful — interacting with Lu Huaiqian was useful.
Lu Huaiqian had his bar, and Lu Huaiqian’s younger brother had a massive company. The connections and resources behind the Lu family could bring him many conveniences, especially in his future career development. So, he didn’t want to give up Lu Huaiqian as a friend. Cheng Shuo told himself this.
Two more vibrations.
The Unscrupulous Tycoon, Mr. Lu:Are you asleep?
The Unscrupulous Tycoon, Mr. Lu: I think you must be asleep. Good night~
Cheng Shuo inexplicably sighed with relief, followed Lu Huaiqian’s lead, pretended to have already fallen asleep, and didn’t reply.
But this time, before exiting WeChat, because he glanced at the other party’s nickname, he suddenly remembered Lu Huaiqian’s confident statement — “But I am a conscientious capitalist.” Cheng Shuo hesitated for a few seconds, then edited the nickname again, ultimately changing it to the most ordinary three words: Lu Huaiqian.
On Friday morning, after finishing the professional courses, the teacher in the group announced that the class would organize an outdoor sketching session in half a month.
Outdoor sketching was interesting, but unfortunately, it was an unavoidable expense. It could range from thousands to tens of thousands, and Cheng Shuo always adhered to the principle of spending only when necessary. Stable savings brought him a sense of security.
The frequency and number of commercial drafts were unpredictable. When lucky, he would get several orders in a month, and when unlucky, several months would pass without any. He couldn’t predict personal commissions either because of various reasons. Cheng Shuo rarely accepted them, and the fees were relatively low, not making much money.
He would never ask Cheng Yu for money. After going to college, he and Cheng Yu had become estranged. Their last contact was due to Cheng Shuo needing Cheng Yu’s electronic signature for off-campus accommodation application procedures. Cheng Shuo had reluctantly called Cheng Yu and obtained his electronic signature.
Cheng Yu had always been poor, with no possessions to his name. Even when Cheng Shuo started college, Cheng Yu didn’t think of providing him with living expenses. Perhaps Cheng Yu thought that people should be self-reliant as soon as they reach adulthood. Cheng Shuo didn’t want to ask Cheng Yu for money, and over time, Cheng Yu accepted that Cheng Shuo’s living and tuition expenses had nothing to do with him.
Cheng Shuo never expected anything from his family, so he had to find a way to earn money on his own.
He had joined many part-time job groups before. When he didn’t need money, the group chats were like background images on his WeChat, prepared for unforeseen needs. Now, he had to go through them one by one.
He came across a job recruitment post that specifically mentioned looking for a male tutor, though he wasn’t sure if it was reliable or a potential online scam. Nonetheless, he decided to save the recruitment message for now to avoid his friends flooding the chat, making it difficult to find the information later. Cheng Shuo long-pressed the message bubble and selected his alternate account.
Forward successful.
Something seemed off.
Cheng Shuo was stunned for two seconds.
Damn, slipped his hand. Quickly retract.
Fortunately, he noticed it early; otherwise, the social media death squad would have gained another formidable warrior.
Unexpectedly, the other party wasn’t willing to let it go easily.
Lu Huaiqian: ?
Lu Huaiqian: Deleting won’t help; I’ve already seen it.jpg
Scrolling up these two messages, the last time they chatted was last Sunday. Regarding Cheng Shuo’s apology letter, Cheng Shuo had replied briefly last Sunday morning, added a few emojis, and the conversation had ended without any further progress.
So, although Lu Huaiqian seemed to be quite noisy, always flaunting in front of him, impossible to shake off, sometimes he played the disappearing act, quietly resting in the list without a peep for a long time. Cheng Shuo shook his head, wondering why he was thinking about these things.
He replied to the other party: Sorry, I sent it to the wrong person.
Lu Huaiqian: You meant to send it to whom?
Cheng Shuo: My WeChat alternate account.
Lu Huaiqian: You have an alternate account?
Yes, Cheng Shuo had two WeChat accounts. The main one was for real-life interactions, primarily for various class groups, and the alternate one was for online friends, such as clients, editors, artists, graphic designers, and so on. By keeping the two separate, Cheng Shuo prevented real-life information from leaking into his online world, and vice versa. It was an effective way to avoid accidentally sending inappropriate messages between the two realms, like discussing figure drawing with other artists. If such a message ended up in a class group, it would lead to social media suicide.
Lu Huaiqian: Can I add your alternate account?
Lu Huaiqian: If not, forget it.
Lu Huaiqian: Not forcing you.
Cheng Shuo thought for a moment: Okay.
Since Lu Huaiqian brought it up himself, he deserved some face.
His alternate account had never posted anything on Moments, and there were no other clues that could reveal the identity behind the alias. Adding Lu Huaiqian would simply mean having an additional inert friend in the list.
No problem.
Cheng Shuo sent the QR code to Lu Huaiqian. After the latter sent the friend request, he urged Cheng Shuo to quickly approve it. Cheng Shuo then switched to his alternate account.
Friend request accepted, and Lu Huaiqian greeted him, asking which account he used more frequently. Cheng Shuo was honest, admitting that he used the alternate account more often.
Lu Huaiqian then inquired about the difference between his two WeChat accounts. Cheng Shuo truthfully explained that the alternate account was for adding online friends, such as potential clients, artists within the community, and others.
The conversation shifted to freelance work, and Lu Huaiqian smoothly asked, “How do clients usually contact you for freelance work?”
Cheng Shuo responded, “Through Weibo or email.”
Lu Huaiqian then asked, “Do you have many followers on Weibo?”
Quick on the keyboard, Lu Huaiqian sent a long message within seconds: “I noticed when I invited you to the bar before, you always mentioned having commercial projects on hand. I guessed you must be somewhat famous, considering I’ve done a bit of research into your industry. Sometimes it’s feast, sometimes famine, in every profession. But hey, that’s how it is in any industry, right?”
…He’s quite perceptive.
Cheng Shuo silently cleared the input box, which originally contained a response to the first question. He was afraid that if he told Lu Huaiqian today that he had three hundred thousand followers on Weibo, tomorrow Lu Huaiqian would be able to greet him in private messages, asking him to draw explicit content—Lu Huaiqian was absolutely capable of doing such a thing!
So Cheng Shuo vaguely replied, “I don’t have many followers.”
Lu Huaiqian: “In your opinion, what quantity would be considered not many? If it were me, I’d think one hundred thousand followers is already a lot. Do you think that’s a lot?”
Cheng Shuo internally sighed.
The fishing was too obvious.
He just straightforwardly told the truth: “I can’t reveal my Weibo account for now, sorry.”
Lu Huaiqian: “It’s okay, it’s okay. I was just casually asking. You don’t have to answer since it’s your privacy. I’ll give you full respect.”
He immediately changed the subject: “I just saw the message you forwarded. Are you planning to take up tutoring?”
Cheng Shuo: “Maybe considering it.”
Lu Huaiqian: “For the money?”
Cheng Shuo: “Yeah.”
Lu Huaiqian: “If you want to make money, actually, I have a better option here. The hourly wage is double that of tutoring, it’s in the evening, no need to wake up early, three days a week, four hours a day. The boss says he’s short of staff. Are you interested?”
Cheng Shuo thought, if he didn’t have a bit of friendship with Lu Huaiqian, he would have considered this seemingly unusually well-paid part-time job as a potential scam or MLM organization, ignored it, and deleted it directly.
He suspiciously furrowed his brows and typed: “What is it?”
Lu Huaiqian: “My bar.”
Cheng Shuo: …
Lu Huaiqian: “Hahaha, interested?”
Even though the other party only sent text, Cheng Shuo had already imagined Lu Huaiqian’s expression and actions. He felt somewhat helpless: “Is your bar really short of staff?”
Lu Huaiqian, with his eyes wide open, spoke nonsense, “Yes, we are short, and we’re especially short of handsome guys.”
Cheng Shuo habitually ignored the second half of the sentence, saying, “If you’re overwhelmed, I can help out without payment.”
Lu Huaiqian was firm in his attitude, “No, no, no. If you put in labor, you should receive corresponding compensation. Just because we’re friends, I shouldn’t freeload off your efforts. Friends should settle accounts clearly.”
Cheng Shuo replied with a pensive expression.
Seeing Cheng Shuo’s reaction, Lu Huaiqian persisted, “Moreover, if you’re willing to become an employee at my bar, as the boss, I can provide you with free accommodation. How about that?”
Cheng Shuo asked, “What does free accommodation mean?”
Lu Huaiqian clarified, “It means that during your employment at the bar, your rent is fully covered.”
Lu Huaiqian continued, “Think it over.”
Cheng Shuo couldn’t help but admit that he was a bit tempted.