Chapter Four: Egg Fried Rice

Good heavens!

Is this really the same Liao Yuan?

His speech was smooth, not a trace of nervousness to be seen. Not only that, but the pacing of his narration was so carefully measured, each beat perfectly controlled.

His speed of delivery alternated between slow and fast, his tone rose and fell with skill, and most astonishing of all—he could change his voice! Aside from the fixed narrator’s tone, every character in the book spoke with a unique voice of their own.

Hu Guohua, Swallow, Wang Kaixuan, Hu Bayi, Little Gawa—each and every one of them possessed distinct and inimitable personalities. Whether it was a gruff uncle, a bumbling shut-in, a youthful boy, a sprightly girl, a mature woman, or even the eerie echo of a female corpse, when the words left Liao Yuan’s mouth, they all seemed to come alive!

It was simply uncanny!

So much so that as soon as Xiao Peng’s attention was captured, he could not tear himself away.

“Yuan!” he exclaimed.

When Liao Yuan exited the studio, Xiao Peng was beside himself with excitement. He quickly put down his phone and hurried forward in surprise. “Is that really you, Yuan?”

“Of course it is,” Liao Yuan paused, glanced at him, and smiled. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s different—completely different!” Xiao Peng circled around him, barely able to contain his excitement. “I never knew you could change your voice like that! Yuan, I’m not exaggerating—you’re far better at this than that famed voice actor, Mi Maodian! Why did you keep this talent hidden? My good brother, you really do wait until the last possible moment to reveal your true abilities! And this ‘Ghost Blows Out the Light’—where on earth did you find it? Tomb robbing! Tomb robbing, of all things! Good heavens! This is so much more thrilling than those vague ghost stories…”

Xiao Peng seemed unable to stop talking, his face flushed with excitement, nearly spraying Liao Yuan with spittle as he pointed at the thick stack of scripts in Liao Yuan’s hand, exclaiming, “Are all the episodes after the sixth one in here? Yuan, let me take a look, just to satisfy my curiosity!”

“No, Xiao Peng,”

Liao Yuan raised his hand to stop Xiao Peng from reaching for the scripts. “These scripts are bound up with my fate from here on out. I can’t let anyone else read them just yet—you understand my situation.”

Xiao Peng froze, only now remembering Liao Yuan’s final three days in broadcasting. Immediately, his excitement turned to worry. “Yuan, with a gift like this, why didn’t you reveal it sooner? There are only three days left! That’s too little time. You know as well as I do that the audience for ‘Strange Tales of the Human World’ is pitifully small. With such low ratings, how much influence can you possibly expect? And Mi Maodian from Baoshan Radio has already joined our station—just this afternoon, I saw him and our director going through the onboarding process together.”

“Better late than never!” Liao Yuan laughed. “If I succeed, I’ll count myself lucky; if I fail, it’s fate. No matter the result, at least I tried. That’s enough. Xiao Peng, I’m heading off now—see you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow.”

Watching Liao Yuan’s departing figure, Xiao Peng felt a strange sense of unreality. But as he looked more closely, it seemed as though that figure, all of a sudden, had grown taller, more imposing.

“It’s just a trick of the mind. It has to be…”

Xiao Peng rubbed his eyes, then picked up his phone and began searching for information about the novel “Ghost Blows Out the Light.”

But whether he searched standing, sitting, or lying down, he couldn’t find a single mention of it. Not only that, but tomb-raiding novels as a whole were virtually nonexistent. What he found were mostly biographies of ancient figures published by archaeological experts after excavating tombs for research.

“Could it be that Yuan wrote it himself?” Xiao Peng found it hard to believe. “Good heavens, does my Yuan really have this much talent?”

Elsewhere.

Liao Yuan clocked out and returned home. After changing his shoes, he went into the bedroom, set his briefcase on the nightstand, and was about to wash up when something occurred to him. He turned and walked into another room, hesitating for a moment before finally pushing open the door.

“Meiqi?”

The door wasn’t locked.

Liao Yuan switched on the light and found the entire pink-and-white bedroom immaculate—the bedsheets neatly folded, and in the little wardrobe, just two simple dresses hung, much like his own sparse wardrobe. Other than that, the room was empty.

“Still not back?”

He was puzzled, so he pulled out his phone to call his sister, only to find her phone switched off.

Just then, he noticed a text message he hadn’t read: “Big bro, I’ve signed up for another talent show. Don’t worry, this time I’m bound to make it big! So I won’t be home for a while—leave a message if you need me. Love, your Yamaji Big Bro.”

Liao Yuan frowned.

He was certain the message was from his sister, Liao Meiqi—nobody else would dare call themselves “Yamaji Big Bro” in front of him.

“Liao Meiqi…”

He murmured her name, then quietly left the room, gently closing the door behind him as though someone still lived there.

When Liao Yuan next awoke, it was already sunset.

There was still some time before he had to leave for work, so he sat on the edge of his bed, gazing absently around the room.

Strange, strange, still strange…

No, I know them well.

After a long moment, Liao Yuan rose, dressed, grabbed his briefcase, and headed to a neighborhood restaurant, where he ordered a plate of egg fried rice.

Each golden, delicate grain of rice was glossy and translucent, interspersed with bright yellow egg and fresh green scallions, filling the air with a tantalizing aroma.

Liao Yuan scooped up a spoonful, placed it slowly in his mouth, and chewed thoughtfully.

Smooth and fragrant, easy on the throat.

This was the eatery the Liao siblings most often frequented. But given their meager finances, each time they could only order one plate of egg fried rice to share. Of course, most of the time, Liao Yuan would cook at home—boiling a simple bowl of noodles, slicing a few pieces of chilled beef, and topping it with scallions and cilantro.

Every time, Liao Meiqi would wolf down her meal, giving a thumbs up between mouthfuls and exclaiming, “Big bro, it’s a shame you never became a chef!”

Or, when payday arrived, after rent and other necessities were settled, if there was anything left over, the siblings would carefully plan it out and head to the supermarket for a little shopping spree.

Potatoes, eggs, rice—these were the essentials. Nutritious, filling, and, most importantly, cheap.

As evening approached, business at the restaurant picked up. Among the hurried diners, only Liao Yuan took his time savoring the flavor of his meal.

His earnest, upright demeanor caught the landlady’s attention more than once. “Is our egg fried rice really that good?”

Half an hour later, Liao Yuan went to the register and took out his phone to pay.

The landlady glanced at the total on his phone, then at his handsome face, and kindly reminded him, “You’ve paid too much.”

“My sister might come tonight,” Liao Yuan replied with a smile. “That girl never remembers her wallet when she goes out, so I’ll cover her meal in advance. If you see her, please remind her to eat.”

“Oh, alright,” the landlady said, suddenly understanding.

She remembered these siblings—both good-looking, often coming by for egg fried rice, and both eating with the same ravenous appetite.

This was the first time she’d seen someone eat so slowly, savoring every bite.

After Liao Yuan left, the landlady suddenly realized, “Wait a minute—who even carries a wallet these days? It’s all mobile payments now!”