After my divorce at thirty, I developed an intelligence network.

I slept without any dreams.

When Gong Yuelong woke up, it was already daylight.

The mattress beneath me was just the right firmness and had a faint, pleasant scent of detergent.

He stared at the ceiling for a few seconds with his eyes open.

This bed... is so comfortable.

It's so much more comfortable than his creaky wooden bed.

This room... is so quiet.

It's much quieter than the courtyard with the characters for "demolition". There's no old ox humming opera in the early morning, no motorcycle churning in the alley, and no clattering of pots and pans from Widow Qin next door making breakfast.

He sat up and looked around.

The bedroom was large, simply yet tastefully decorated. There was a faint scent of cedar in the air.

This is the kind of life a human being should live.

Quiet, comfortable, and respectable.

Gong Yuelong got out of bed, his feet touching the cool floor. He walked to the window and gently pulled back the curtains a little.

Sunlight streamed in.

Downstairs is a neat and tidy community garden, shaded by green trees.

It was a completely different world from his messy, dilapidated courtyard.

He stood there for a while, then turned and went to the bathroom to wash up.

The bathroom is also very large, with a separate wet and dry area, and the sanitary ware is all from well-known brands.

He washed his face, and the cold water instantly cleared his head.

It's good.

But it's not his.

He dried his face and walked out of the bedroom.

In the living room, Jiang Yan had already gotten up and was leaning against the island in the open kitchen, drinking coffee.

Seeing him, she raised her cup: "Awake? The coffee's in the pot, pour yourself."

The tone was very natural, and this kind of thing had happened many times before.

Gong Yuelong walked over and poured himself a cup of coffee. The aroma was rich.

"Sit down," Jiang Yan said, pointing to the high chair next to her.

The two sat side by side at the island counter, drinking coffee and watching the morning light outside the window.

No one spoke.

But this quietness isn't awkward; on the contrary, it's quite comfortable.

As Gong Yuelong sipped his coffee, the contrast in his mind became even clearer:

Jiang Yan's life is refined, orderly, and everything is under control.

His life was rough, busy, and full of uncertainty.

But strangely, he wasn't envious.

Or rather, there's no use in being envious. That's what others earned step by step; if he wants it, he has to earn it step by step himself.

After finishing her coffee, Jiang Yan put down her cup. "I'm going out in a bit. What about you?"

"Let's go back to the courtyard," Gong Yuelong said.

"Okay." Jiang Yan nodded, stood up, and said, "Then I won't see you out. Just close the door behind you."

She spoke of it casually, as if he came and went often.

Gong Yuelong also stood up: "Thank you for last night..."

"What are you thanking me for?" Jiang Yan smiled. "I should be thanking you. You didn't leave me on the street."

They both laughed.

Gong Yuelong walked to the door and changed his shoes. Several pairs of women's shoes were neatly arranged in the shoe cabinet, along with two pairs of unopened men's slippers.

He put on his shoes and opened the door.

"Oh, right," Jiang Yan said from behind, "Don't forget the gathering next Wednesday."

"I won't forget it." Gong Yuelong turned around. "I'll definitely be there."

The door closed gently.

……

After leaving Jiang Yan's place, Gong Yuelong drove back.

In July, the sun is scorching.

I passed by several construction sites, all of which were bustling with activity.

It is the prime season for construction.

The weather is hot, so the concrete sets quickly; the days are long, so the working hours are long; and the rainy season hasn't arrived yet, so there's no need to worry about downtime.

At the entrance of each construction site, there is a large countdown sign, indicating that there are XX days left until the main structure is completed.

This is the true picture of the construction industry—rough, busy, but also full of vitality.

Gong Yuelong slowed down and glanced at it a few times.

My own power distribution room project also grew little by little in this way.

From digging the pit to pouring concrete, and now to building the wall.

Although small, every step is taken steadily and practically.

Gong Yuelong parked the car and pushed open the gate to enter the courtyard.

The courtyard was empty. Old Niu's room was locked, and Widow Qin's room was also quiet, with the curtains drawn; she must have gone to work.

He went back to his room, closed the door, sat down, and lit a cigarette.

Smoke rose slowly in the quiet room.

Humans are really interesting.

He remembered this time last year.

The company just went bankrupt, and creditors are blocking the door every day. Before I even wake up in the morning, people are already banging on the door.

I had just lain down to bed when the phone rang. Those friends who used to call me brother turned on me faster than turning the pages of a book.

There was a supplier who would squat outside his house all day for 30,000 yuan, cursing so loudly that the whole alley could hear him.

Back then, he really had to stretch every penny to make ends meet.

They eat the cheapest boxed lunches, smoke the worst cigarettes, wait for work at the labor market, and argue with people for half a day over an extra ten yuan.

When you're broke, the whole world is your creditor.

What now?

He currently has over 200,000 yuan in cash, the project is making money, and Jiang Yan is willing to help him because of their relationship.

Instead, no one came to collect the debt anymore.

Those former creditors seem to have suddenly disappeared.

Occasionally, when they bump into each other on the street, the other party will take the initiative to greet him: "Boss Gong, where have you been making your fortune lately?" They never mention the debt.

Even Jiang Yan, who knew perfectly well that he was going to repay that bridge loan at the end of the year, didn't mention it at all today.

It's not that I forgot.

They knew he could afford to pay it back, so they weren't in a hurry to urge him.

Gong Yuelong flicked his cigarette ash.

Money is like a mirror.

When you're broke, all that's shown is the evil in human nature—greed, scheming, and turning your back on others.

When you have money, all that comes out of the photos is the goodness of human nature—politeness, respect, and saving face for you.

Actually, the people are still the same people.

It's not them that have changed, it's your own weight that has changed.

He stubbed out his cigarette and began sorting through the money.

Yu Yue tied the 200,000 yuan with rubber bands and locked it in a tin box. This was money to pay off debts, and it should be used wisely.

After doing all that, he leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes.

The afternoon sun slanted in through the window, shining warmly on my face.

The shouts of scrap collectors could be heard coming from the alley outside, growing louder as they approached and then fading away.

Step by step.

With money, work, and a path paved, we have everything we need.

He opened the notebook in front of him.

The densely packed text inside wasn't engineering data, but rather names and numbers.

List of debts.

The last page is dated last October—the month the company completed its bankruptcy liquidation.

He slowly flipped through the pages. Behind each debt was a brief note detailing the circumstances at the time. His fingers stopped halfway through.

Yu Jing, 6000 yuan.

Last year, on the 23rd day of the twelfth lunar month, the labor market closed early, and I didn't get any work.

I only had six yuan and fifty cents left, and I had no money for dinner. Yu Jing transferred all the money in her card to me, exactly six thousand yuan. She said:

"Brother Long, let's celebrate the New Year first."

That day she was wearing a beige down jacket, her scarf wrapped tightly around her neck, and the tip of her nose was red from the cold.

December 23rd last year.

He remembers it very clearly.

There was no one at the labor market that day; all the construction sites were closed for the day. He squatted at the market entrance until four in the afternoon, his hands and feet numb from the cold, preparing to go back and eat instant noodles.

Yu Jing was passing by the labor market when she saw him and paused in her tracks.

She is a college graduate from their county, majoring in engineering cost, and now works as a budgeter at a consulting firm.

He was tall and thin, with long hair and bright eyes.