Chapter 759: 747 Model's Body Surface Mark

"Mai Kai... Si... what?" the manager in his thirties looked bewildered, sweat dripping from his head.

Those two migrant workers in camouflage uniforms, their mud not yet dry, were speaking their hometown dialect, right?

Zheng Ren and Su Yun were already in a half‑asleep state, but when they heard the manager spouting nonsense, they almost instinctively muttered that sentence at the same time.

Hearing Su Yun also speaking, Zheng Ren immediately shut his mouth, began to doze off, enjoying the comfort the 44° water brought to his body.

"Hey, I'm just too tired to bother with you, but you shouldn't be spouting nonsense like that." Su Yun tilted her head slightly, closed her eyes, and said.

"Spouting nonsense? Feel your own waist—you really have two dimples; your kidney deficiency is serious and needs meridian adjustment." The manager's expression was a bit embarrassed, but he still tried to explain.

"That's the waist dimple; in regional anatomy it's also called the Mai Kaisi Ling." Su Yun closed her eyes, a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth, "It's the two depressions on either side of the lower back, above the sacral bone and where it meets the lumbar vertebrae. Also known as Venus's dimples and the holy dimples, one of the surface markers of a model."

"……" The manager's face was written all over with the two big characters "bewildered".

"If you're selling cards, I don't care." Su Yun said, "But you ought to have something to show for it—like accurate massage points, strong pressure, not just going through the motions. I find it taxing; ordinary pressure on me feels like a mere touch."

"……"

"You've got nothing—you want me to sign up for a card? On what basis? Just kidney deficiency?" Su Yun's smile grew a bit wider, "Come on, even deceit should be professional. Your line is outdated; you need to keep up with the times, or else……"

Speaking, a faint snore sounded.

This guy had already fallen asleep.

The manager's face flushed crimson, unable to utter a word, he turned and walked away.

The masseuse giving Su Yun a massage was young; looking at Su Yun, her face was already red. But her redness and the manager's redness were different concepts—hers was a shy blush.

"Brother, how many kinds of essential oils are there?" the technician, still holding onto a shred of reason, continued to push the sale.

"He's asleep; we can just use the regular no‑charge service." Zheng Ren said with his eyes closed.

Really……

The junior technician was a bit unhappy, but upon seeing Su Yun she was struck dead by a side‑glance, then revived, killed again, dying and coming back to life. A few seconds later she stared blankly at Su Yun, thinking it didn't matter if she earned a little less.

"Use some force, don't use your hand, use your elbow joint." Su Yun mumbled drowsily.

Zheng Ren chuckled and soon fell asleep.

An hour passed just like that. When Zheng Ren was wakened, Su Yun had already dressed, stifling a yawn, and said, "Boss, want something to eat?"

"You hungry?" Zheng Ren had no interest in food; he'd just had porridge and didn't want to eat more.

"Boss, can't you have a normal human appetite?" Su Yun said, "Just drinking porridge to fill up? Impossible—I'm hungry again."

"I saw a barbecue stall by the road; I'll go back later and grab ten skewers when I pass."

"Ten? Are you feeding rabbits?"

"Rabbits don't eat cooked meat."

While the two were earnestly bullshitting, Su Yun went to the front desk, scanned the code, settled the bill, and left.

After a few front‑desk greeters watched the two leave, they gathered together and chattered away.

"That young man is really good‑looking."

"They know plenty more—when Fan Manager went in, he got shut down right away."

"Just looking, he doesn't seem very rich."

"What do you know? Rich people don't necessarily drive nice cars or wear designer brands; some wealthy folks have tempers you wouldn't understand."

……

Zheng Ren and Su Yun staggered homeward; here neon lights flickered, lamps blazed, a scene of peaceful prosperity.

A momentary mismatch of action and perception left Zheng Ren feeling dazed.

He struggled to open his eyes and look at the road. If he hadn't been seriously wounded on the front lines, tripping and breaking his leg while walking in the capital would have earned him a third‑class merit from Director Kong—something he'd surely be laughed at for the rest of his life.

Staggering past a barbecue stall, Zheng Ren called out, "Hey, what skewers are you eating?"

"Lamb, no cumin, less chili." Su Yun replied.

The barbecue stall's business was booming; a few small tables were packed with people, and others were queuing up.

Zheng Ren felt weary just watching; waiting for the skewers to be ready would take at least ten or twenty minutes.

All he wanted now was to go home, collapse on the bed, and sleep like the dead.

"Sir, your grilled sausage is ready!" the barbecue boss shouted loudly.

A person squatting by the road smoking stood up, walked to the stall, cigarette in mouth, and took the grilled sausage.

In the moment he turned, his gaze met Zheng Ren's.

"You…… Chief Zheng?" the man said, somewhat surprised, not daring to believe it.

According to the massage‑shop manager's way of speaking, wearing camouflage with still‑wet mud, one could tell he'd just come from a construction site.

Even if he dressed plainly, this person could be recognized without hesitation, his face lighting up with an enthusiastic yet distant smile.

But dressed like that…… Song Ying really couldn't bring herself to acknowledge him.

"Uh……" Zheng Ren hesitated, looking at the middle‑aged man opposite, feeling doubtful.

Not just a little—he was quite doubtful.

"Who is this? Do I know him? He calls me Chief Zheng, saying he's from Hai Cheng."

A thought flashed— in an instant Zheng Ren saw the grilled sausage he was holding.

Dong Shi Tiao, Tang Song Restaurant, Song Ying, thyroid‑parathyroid dysfunction.

Several keywords instantly popped into Zheng Ren's mind.

Duck‑step gait, limp—he looks healed, so why is he still eating grilled sausage?

"Song Manager, hello." Zheng Ren forced out a faint smile, expending all his strength, and extended his hand.

"Chief Zheng, I thought you important folks forget things and wouldn't remember me." Song Ying laughed heartily, reached out, and shook Zheng Ren's hand warmly yet with propriety.

Su Yun was a bit surprised—how could this severe face‑blindness case recognize people?

Could it be that after a trip to the front lines, his seven apertures have all been opened?

"Shou Bing done?" Zheng Ren asked.

"Done, after the Shou Bing I also took some medicine, just as you said, and it got better quickly." Song Ying said.

"Grilled sausage, can it still bring you good luck?" Zheng Ren said, not in an annoying way, to eat as little grilled sausage as possible, but instead he brought the talk to luck.

"Same as before." Song Ying smiled slightly and said: "But this is something we've been used to for many years; now I eat it far less often and in smaller amounts. I also asked the relevant doctors, and they said eating less won't cause any problems."

Zheng Ren also thought so; in the System Panel, Song Ying had no disease diagnoses.

It looks like it's completely healed.

"Chief Zheng, what is this...?" Song Ying looked at Zheng Ren wearing this outfit, and the assistant beside him was the same, asking puzzledly.