Chapter Two: The Zhongtong Store

The shrill ringing of the phone startled Zhang Wei awake. He grabbed his mobile from the bedside table and glanced at the screen. Zhang Wei drew a deep breath, shook his head to clear it, and forced himself to focus. The call was from none other than Xu Ming, the manager of Zhang Wei’s real estate agency.

Xu Ming was thirty-three, short and thin with sallow skin, but his hair was thick, black, and neatly trimmed, lending him a sharp, energetic look. Although his appearance left something to be desired, perhaps even plain, he was remarkably capable both in business and in dealing with people. Zhang Wei hadn’t worked under him for long, but he had already learned much from Xu Ming.

“Hello, Xu,” Zhang Wei cleared his throat, pressed the answer button, and lifted the phone to his ear.

“Yes, it’s me.” A deep baritone, tinged with a southern accent, came from the other end. “Jianfa just came back to the office and said you were awake, so I called to check—are you feeling any better?”

“Much better, thanks for your concern, Xu. Sorry to trouble you,” Zhang Wei replied with an awkward laugh.

“What are you saying? We’re colleagues—looking after each other is only natural, isn’t it?” Xu Ming feigned annoyance, as if displeased by Zhang Wei’s formality. “Don’t overthink it. Just focus on resting! Don’t rush back to work. I’ll request two days off from headquarters for you. Come back when you’re fully recovered.”

“That’s not necessary, Xu.” Zhang Wei’s tone was grateful. “I’m feeling much better. There’s nothing to do at home, and sitting around only makes me restless. I’d rather get back to work sooner.”

“That’s fine, too. Just be careful and don’t overexert yourself,” Xu Ming advised.

Zhang Wei acknowledged softly.

“Alright then, I won’t keep you. Get some rest, I’ll hang up now.” With that, Xu Ming ended the call, and the phone buzzed with the busy signal.

After putting down the phone, Zhang Wei felt a warmth in his heart. Even if Xu Ming had called out of courtesy—or perhaps even to win favor—working with such a polite colleague and supervisor made one more motivated, and the workplace all the more pleasant.

Half an hour later, Zhang Wei settled his bill at the clinic. Feeling his already thin wallet, he managed a wry smile. Though he wished he could rest a bit longer, the pressure of making a living forced him to hurry to work.

It was already past noon. Under the glaring sun, Zhang Wei made his way with practiced ease to the Zhongtong branch. Stepping inside, he saw his colleagues busy at their computers and taking notes. He smiled, but before he could greet them, a woman’s voice rang out.

“Well, well! Didn’t our hero Zhang get a concussion? Why aren’t you at home resting? Back at work already? Someone who doesn’t know better might think our manager is working you to death! Hahaha.” The coquettish voice immediately drew everyone’s attention. The speaker, Wang Min, was an elegant woman in her twenties with fair skin, one of the senior agents at the branch.

Though Wang Min’s words sounded playful, Zhang Wei sensed an undercurrent. He turned his gaze to her, and when their eyes met, his pupils contracted, a spark flickering in his gaze—he saw a line of golden text appear in her eyes: “You pervert, it’d be better if you were beaten to death, so you wouldn’t cause trouble for anyone else.”

“Why is this happening again? Is it because I’m not fully recovered, or can I really see into people’s minds?” Zhang Wei froze, muttering to himself.

On the surface, he and Wang Min got along well, with no open conflict. However, Zhang Wei had once inadvertently witnessed something he shouldn’t have, unintentionally offending Wang Min. So, he understood her hostility. Still, Wang Min was shrewd—she never confronted him directly, only making trouble behind the scenes. This time, though, Zhang Wei saw her true thoughts reflected in her eyes.

He couldn’t explain what was happening, but the repeated appearance of golden letters in people’s eyes could no longer be dismissed as hallucination. The words perfectly mirrored their true feelings. Zhang Wei had a vague sense that he had stumbled upon some extraordinary ability—the legendary “mind reading.” Determined to test his theory, he resolved to try again at the next opportunity.

“You’re here already? I thought you’d go home and rest,” Wang Jianfa said with concern, surprised to see Zhang Wei return so soon after he’d left.

“It’s fine, I’m all better,” Zhang Wei replied, then leaned in and whispered, “Did you log into the Roommate system for me?”

“Yes, I did,” Wang Jianfa nodded. Logging in for late-arriving colleagues was standard practice.

The Roommate system was the agency’s internal software, connecting the entire company. The first thing every agent did upon arriving was log in; the system automatically recorded their time of arrival, serving as proof of attendance for headquarters. Failing to log in before nine was considered tardiness or absence. Beyond attendance, the Roommate system also tracked property listings and client information, enabling company-wide resource sharing.

That morning, Zhang Wei hadn’t come to the office—he’d gone straight to the Tiantian Company to settle a dispute, only to be knocked out by Wang Zhen, so he hadn’t had a chance to log in at all.

He booted up his computer and walked to the last row of desks, where the assistants usually sat—none of them were in today, it being Saturday. Beside the assistant’s desk sat a fingerprint scanner, shaped much like a landline telephone. Zhang Wei pressed his middle finger to the glass. The green-lit screen displayed his employee number, followed by a polite voice: “Thank you.”

“Thank you” signified a successful login. If the fingerprint was incorrect or unregistered, the machine would prompt, “Please press your finger again,” requiring repeated attempts until the machine finally confirmed with “Thank you,” properly recording the attendance.

After clocking in, Zhang Wei had just settled into his seat when a woman nearby asked, “Zhang Wei, how’s your recovery?”

“Thanks for your concern, Li. I’m fine now,” Zhang Wei replied, waving his arm with a smile.

The woman he addressed as Sister Li was Li Lin, twenty-five or six, with a chin-length bob, black-rimmed glasses, petite figure, and above-average looks. Dressed in a smart business suit, she exuded a capable air.

“That’s good. You gave us quite a scare when you ended up at the clinic,” Li Lin said, still a bit shaken.

Her genuine concern moved Zhang Wei. Though he hadn’t been at Zhongtong long, the kindness of manager Xu Ming, Li Lin, and Wang Jianfa made him feel a real attachment to the company. He resolved that, before the month was out, he must close a deal—he couldn’t let himself be dismissed.