Chen Jian couldn’t ask Shan Yu those questions directly out of his own mouth. His only hope was that Shan Yu would catch his eye and give him some sort of sign or direction—how on earth was he supposed to handle this?!
In true escape fashion, Shan Yu used his crutches like lightning to sweep into the elevator. Facing away from the door, he reached back with the tip of his crutch and tapped the control panel. The elevator doors slid shut, and it began to ascend.
He could aim accurately even from that angle?
Chen Jian stood frozen. How on earth is he that good?
A moment later, reality hit him: the boss had just dumped the shop off on the manager and run for it.
To buy himself a buffer, Chen Jian quickly pointed toward the dining area and said to the dreadlocked girl, “Wait for me over there for a second. Let me wrap up what I’m doing, and I’ll be right back.”
“Sure.” She was very cooperative, turning around and walking toward the restaurant section.
Only then did Chen Jian notice several chains wrapped around her waist, hung with small bells that chimed softly with every step she took.
“Manager?” Zhao Fangfang, who was mopping the floor, hurried over and looked at Chen Jian in surprise. “You’re the manager now?”
“…Yeah,” Chen Jian kept his voice down.
Zhao-jie, I am begging you, please don’t announce in front of an applicant just how brand new a manager I am.
“That’s fantastic!” Zhao Fangfang slapped him on the arm in sheer excitement. “Look at you, Chen Jian—you’ve really made something of yourself!”
“Zhao-jie…” Chen Jian took two quick steps toward the front desk, wanting to get as far away from Dreadlocks as possible. “You…”
“Zhao-jie, Zhao-jie,” Sanbing raised an index finger from behind the front desk, whispering, “Don’t break character. We’ve got an outsider here.”
“Oh!” Only then did Zhao Fangfang realize.
“I heard you already,” the dreadlocked girl called out as she took a seat in one of the dining booths.
At a loss for words, Chen Jian set the milk tea in his hand on the counter. “Brought this back from the old town. Put it in the fridge; anyone can grab one whenever they want.”
“Thanks, Manager,” Sanbing smiled.
Chen Jian walked over to the elevator. As he pressed the button, he caught sight of the dreadlocked girl poking her head out to watch him.
The elevator had stopped on the third floor. He turned around, headed for the staircase, and jogged straight up to the fourth floor.
Shan Yu wasn’t in the office.
Right, the elevator stopped on the third floor.
Chen Jian sighed. His brain and eyes were both malfunctioning today.
He ran back down to the third floor, noticed someone inside the gym, and walked in to switch on the lights.
Shan Yu was sitting in front of the cable machine, holding the upper handles with both hands. His form was proper enough, but…
“What are you doing, Boss Shan?” Chen Jian asked.
“Hanging myself,” Shan Yu said.
Chen Jian fell silent, unable to find an appropriate response.
“Aren’t you conducting an interview? What are you doing up here?” Shan Yu asked.
“What am I supposed to interview her about?” Chen Jian walked over to his side. “You didn’t tell me anything. How am I supposed to run an interview?”
“Tell you what?” Shan Yu let go of the handles, stood up, and looked at him.
“Our hiring standards—education, work experience, that sort of thing—and the pay for each position,” Chen Jian said. “I don’t know a thing…”
“Sounds like you know plenty,” Shan Yu said. “Education, work experience, compensation.”
“So what education and work experience do we need? And for pay—should I offer two thousand?” Chen Jian asked.
Shan Yu chuckled. “Just look at the people working in this place. Don’t you already have a sense of it?”
Chen Jian took a deep breath. “Alright, got it.”
“Go on then, Manager. You’ve got this,” Shan Yu said.
“One last thing to confirm.”
“Hmm?” Shan Yu looked at him.
“The girl downstairs right now,” Chen Jian said. “Her look—if we take her on, does she need to tone it down? Or can she just stand at the front desk looking like that?”
“Don’t be prejudiced,” Shan Yu said.
For a moment, Chen Jian couldn’t figure out what that meant.
“Do you know what my first impression of you was when I saw you?” Shan Yu asked.
“…A drowned rat?” Chen Jian recalled.
Shan Yu looked at him, trying hard to suppress a smile.
“That wasn’t it?” Chen Jian asked.
“Your brain sometimes…” Shan Yu said, “…don’t hold your employees to too high a standard.”
When Chen Jian returned to the first floor, he still didn’t feel completely confident. Other than the notepad he was holding for show, his mind was still a haze.
However, Shan Yu’s final words had provided a bit of support:
“Give people a chance. Those who want to work hard will naturally seize it,” Shan Yu had told him. “Those who don’t perform well can be let go. You’re an employer, not her father—don’t put so much pressure on yourself just over hiring someone.”
The dreadlocked girl was sitting in a dining booth. Seeing him approach, she lifted her cup of milk tea and called out, “Thanks, Manager Chen.”
“…You’re welcome.” Chen Jian glanced back at the front desk.
“Sanbing gave it to me—said there was an extra cup,” she added.
It was bought per head—the cup you’re drinking belonged to Sanbing’s boss.
“Yeah,” Chen Jian nodded, noticing a cigarette butt in the ashtray on the table.
Pretty relaxed, huh?
He set his notebook on the table, slid the ashtray to the side, and sat down across from her. “We haven’t officially opened for business yet and are still preparing a lot of things, so we can keep today’s interview informal.”
“Sure,” the dreadlocked girl nodded.
“What’s your name?” Chen Jian opened his notebook.
“Hu Pan—’Pan’ as in lakeshore or riverbank,” she replied. “You can call me Panpan.”
Chen Jian nodded, jotting her name down in the notebook. “Nineteen years old, right?”
“Right, vocational high school background,” Hu Pan said. “I studied nursing and worked as a cashier at a supermarket downtown. I can handle basic office software. I’m hoping for a front desk position—I worked as a hotel receptionist during a summer job, so I know the basic duties. If that doesn’t work, being a server is fine too. I’ve done a lot of other work: phone sales, street dance instructor, nail salon technician, food delivery driver… I don’t ask for high pay, but I need a place to stay.”
Chen Jian paused his pen and looked up at her. That single burst of information had answered every single question he planned to ask.
The complexity of her work history practically rivaled his own.
“The front desk position pays two thousand two hundred. The trial period is one month at one thousand eight hundred. We provide staff dorms and meals,” Chen Jian said.
“I can accept that,” Hu Pan replied.
Chen Jian looked at her, and just as he was about to speak, she added, “If you have requirements for personal appearance, I can… tone it down a bit. When I worked as a cashier…”
Hu Pan pointed at her face. “…it wasn’t this makeup.”
…But was it this hairstyle?
“There’s no such requirement for now. Just no smoking during work hours,” Chen Jian said. “Also, I’ll need to make a copy of your ID for our records.”
Hu Pan paused for a moment before speaking up. “Is that mandatory?”
Are you a fugitive? We only take people who’ve finished serving their sentences here.
“It’s mandatory. We won’t hold onto your ID—it’s just a photocopy,” Chen Jian reassured her.
Hu Pan seemed to hesitate for another two seconds before making up her mind. She reached down inside the collar of her T-shirt to pull something out.
Chen Jian hastily averted his gaze.
“Here.” Hu Pan pulled her ID out from inside her collar and handed it over. “Only you will see this, right?”
“The boss will see it too.” Chen Jian took the ID card.
“Okay,” Hu Pan nodded.
Chen Jian stood up and walked to the front desk to make a copy, taking a quick glance at the information on the ID. Since she’s so sensitive about letting people see her ID, she isn’t an underage kid, is she?
The age was correct. Though the photo lacked the heavy black eyeliner, it was clearly her. Her name, however, wasn’t Hu Pan.
It was Hu Pandi.1Pandi (盼弟) means “hoping for a younger brother.”
Chen Jian froze. What era are we living in that a nineteen-year-old girl would have such a blatantly absurd name?
After finishing the copy, he returned the ID to Hu Pan. “I wanted to ask…”
“Go ahead,” Hu Pan replied.
“How did you hear we were hiring?” Chen Jian asked.
“My primary school classmate works at the accessory shop up ahead,” Hu Pan explained. “She told me that a haunted house doesn’t find staff easily, so you definitely hadn’t hired enough people yet. That’s why I came.”
…Even if the guesthouse changes its name, it seems almost impossible to sever ties with its ‘haunted house’ reputation.
“I’m not afraid of dead people,” Hu Pan added. “And I’m not afraid of ghosts.”
“Did you come here on that bicycle?” Chen Jian asked.
“Yeah,” Hu Pan nodded. “Someone else had put a private lock on it, but I smashed the lock and rode it over. I’m… out of money, so I couldn’t take the bus.”
“Where’s your luggage?” Chen Jian asked. “I’ll take you to the staff dorms first.”
“Great.” Hu Pan stood up, ran over to the couch she had sat on earlier, and picked up a tiny backpack about the size of a palm. “All my stuff is in here.”
Leaving luggage or not didn’t make much difference at this rate. So, Chen Jian gave her a tour first, starting on the first floor, moving up to the second and third, and finally ending up on the fourth floor.
The door to the office was closed. Unsure if he had heard their voices, Boss Shan—who never closed his door—had shut it tight, all to ensure the manager could take full responsibility without interference.
“The room on the third floor,” Hu Pan asked, “will it still be open to guests in the future?”
“If all the other rooms fill up, it’ll open. If not, guests will be placed in other rooms,” Chen Jian said.
“Who knows? Maybe someone brave enough will specifically ask to stay in that room,” Hu Pan remarked.
“Staying there is fine—that room has already been cleaned out,” Chen Jian replied.
“Did you hire someone to perform an exorcism?” Hu Pan asked.
You’re not going to tell me you do shamanic rituals, are you?
“Didn’t do any of that,” Chen Jian said.
“Oh.” Hu Pan smiled and walked into the staff dormitory.
“This is the female dorm. The door can be deadbolted from the inside. I’ll have Zhao-jie bring you the key in a bit,” Chen Jian said. “Rest for a while—the guests have already checked out…”
“It’s fine. I’ll head downstairs as soon as I set my things down.”
After settling Hu Pan in, Chen Jian turned, walked down the hallway to the office, and knocked on the door.
“Come in,” Shan Yu’s voice called from inside.
Chen Jian pushed the door open and stepped in.
“Qian Yu is a total freak,” Shan Yu said, lying on the sofa. “Putting the office on the same floor as the staff dorms—pure tyrannical capitalist behavior.”
“The interview is done. She’ll start work in a bit,” Chen Jian said, setting the photocopy of the ID on the desk. “There’s something I need to mention.”
“What?” Shan Yu sat up.
“This girl says her name is Hu Pan—’Pan’ as in lakeshore…” Chen Jian said.
“Do you even know how to write that?” Shan Yu asked.
Chen Jian glanced at him. “I went to high school, you know. We’re probably on the same level.”
“Oh,” Shan Yu gave a small smile.
“Her ID says her name is Hu Pandi,” Chen Jian continued. “She probably doesn’t want to use that name.”
“No problem. I still don’t even know what Sanbing’s real name is,” Shan Yu said.
“Sanbing is named Chen Jiali,” Chen Jian noted.
“Sounds like a place name,” Shan Yu thought for a moment. “Like Wangjia Village or Zhaojia Settlement…”
“Just calling him Sanbing is fine,” Chen Jian sighed.
“Go ahead and get busy,” Shan Yu said. “No need to call me for dinner—my head hurts, and I want to sleep for a bit.”
“Headache?” Chen Jian looked at him. “Was the mutton noodles not fresh?”
“That single interview really did drain every drop of your brain juice, didn’t it, Manager?” Shan Yu teased.
“…Did you catch a cold? Why the sudden headache?” Chen Jian had lived for twenty years without ever getting a headache and couldn’t relate at all. “Do you need to take any medicine?”
“I took some painkillers. I’ll be fine after a nap,” Shan Yu said.
“Okay,” Chen Jian replied, turning to head downstairs.
“We’ll hold a meeting tomorrow morning. Notify everyone,” Shan Yu said. “Besides the staff here, Chen Erhu’s side—anyone who needs to be assigned to work here within the next three months—has to attend.”
“Alright.” Just as Chen Jian was about to turn, he paused. “What’s the meeting about? Do I need to speak?”
“Look at you, learning the ropes,” Shan Yu smiled. He picked up a piece of paper from the coffee table beside him and handed it over. “It’s pretty much all on here. Take a look in advance so you have an idea.”
Chen Jian glanced down at the paper. It was Shan Yu’s handwritten meeting outline, detailing task allocations, some newly added house rules, and the like.
There was also an opening date.
“Opening next week?” Chen Jian asked.
“Yeah,” Shan Yu nodded.
He said next week, but today was already Thursday.
Chen Jian rapidly calculated the timeline in his head. For tidying up the garden, someone had been contacted, but they wouldn’t arrive until tomorrow afternoon. He still had to fetch the additional plants and trees himself—might as well go pick them up tomorrow morning… Then there’s repainting the exterior walls, the boundary wall, and that small path by the entrance…
“Oh, right.” Shan Yu leaned his head back against his arms on the sofa, drawing imaginary circles near his temples with a finger. “Manager Chen, get those gears turning. Make a solid plan and just give me the final verdict.”
“It’s impossible to finish in two days,” Chen Jian delivered his verdict.
Shan Yu tsked. “Did I ever say we were opening on Monday?”
“Also, you said Zhenxi was changing its name. What are we changing it to?” Chen Jian asked.
“I’ve already thought of it. I’ll announce it at the meeting tomorrow, and you guys can just applaud and pass it,” Shan Yu said.
That means making a new sign, too.
“Fine,” Chen Jian turned to leave. “I’ll start getting things ready. I’ll let you know when we need to spend money…”
“In two hours—I’m going to sleep for two hours,” Shan Yu said. “Estimate a rough figure, and I’ll advance you the funds first.”
“Got it, Boss,” Chen Jian said.
As Shan Yu lay back down on the sofa, Chen Jian noticed his complexion indeed looked unwell; the headache clearly wasn’t mild.
Glancing at the empty coffee table, Chen Jian quickly asked, “Is there anything else you need? Cola, orange juice, plain water?”
“I need you to close the door and get the hell out,” Shan Yu said, resting an arm over his eyes.
Chen Jian quietly closed the door and walked downstairs while reading the paper.
Shan Yu’s handwriting was elegant—a lot of cursive strokes, but every word remained legible.
Or maybe he tried to learn a messy style and just failed at it.
Although the meeting outline didn’t have many words, it was quite detailed. Aside from the general points, it specified who would present what. The basic flow was fully laid out; following it would make for a smooth meeting—the very first meeting for this ragtag team assembled in this chaotic guesthouse.
When Chen Jian returned to the first floor, Hu Pan was already standing behind the front desk, staring at the computer screen. Zhao Fangfang was in the kitchen preparing dinner, while Sanbing and Chen Erhu were leaning against either side of the courtyard gate, chatting away.
This sketchy place looked like it had already been open for three days.
He stepped into the courtyard, intending to take a few photos to estimate how many plants and trees were needed.
Seeing him come out, Chen Erhu immediately jerked his chin at him. “Chen Jian, come here.”
Chen Jian walked over.
With a solemn expression, Chen Erhu whispered, “Just now, the boss from down the road came by to snoop around about our opening.”
“Isn’t that normal?” Chen Jian asked.
“It’s not normal,” Chen Erhu tsked a few times. “Mainly his attitude. He even asked if our boss was in. I told him the boss was out talking business.”
“…Yeah,” Chen Jian nodded. “That was quick thinking, Boss Chen.”
“Better safe than sorry,” Chen Erhu said. “You haven’t forgotten how these guesthouses used to bicker and fight, have you?”
That was two years ago. Several guesthouses had gotten into a physical fight arguing over who owned the land where the small paths intersected. In the end, the town management committee built a gazebo right on that spot.
“They’re all petty bastards,” Sanbing chimed in.
“I’ll have to trouble you two to keep a close eye on things over the next couple of days,” Chen Jian said. Truthfully, he didn’t feel like anything major would happen—applying a street-thug mindset to a business owner seemed a bit much… still, he went along with their train of thought.
However, by the next day, he learned that the instincts of street thugs could sometimes be spot on.
Business owners weren’t necessarily high-class either. After all, Qian Yu—the original owner of Zhenxi—was no good, and Shan Yu himself didn’t look like a saint to outsiders either.
Early the next morning, Chen Jian was in Shan Yu’s room, disinfecting his leg. Shan Yu had slept on the office sofa until midnight the night before and looked quite uncomfortable; Chen Jian hadn’t dared to wake him. He hadn’t expected Shan Yu to still have a headache today.
“Do you want to go to the hospital and get it checked? What if it’s something…” Chen Jian didn’t finish his sentence.
“Right, a terminal illness,” Shan Yu said. “I’ve got two months left to live. I came here to spend my final moments, throw away the last of my money, and save the troubled youth of this town.”
Chen Jian sighed.
“Boss Shan!” Zhao Fangfang’s shouting and frantic footsteps suddenly echoed down the hallway.
Without knocking, Zhao Fangfang slammed open the door to Shan Yu’s room. Chen Jian flinched and instinctively reached out to protect Shan Yu’s left leg, terrified she might lose her balance and crash straight into the benevolent boss’s leg frame.
“Outside! Something happened outside! The gate! The gate!” Zhao Fangfang was clearly terrified, her words stumbling over one another.
“Blood was splattered all over the courtyard gate and walls,” Hu Pan added, standing behind her in the doorway. “A whole strip of it. Chen Erhu and Sanbing are guarding the front right now. Some onlookers are gathering to take pictures.”
“Yeah!” Zhao Fangfang cried out. “It’s terrifying!”
What is the issue with the name Hu Pandi, please? It’s written in bold in the text but there’s no link and no footnote to explain it. Is it weird or shameful? Thank you!
Thank you for adding the explanation! 💜