Prodigal Son

In every industry, there are people who make a fortune, some who just get by, and others who lose money. In truth, people's intelligence is much the same—some simply put it to use while others let their minds idle away.

The summer was unusually hot. For newcomers to this city, it might seem impossible to go outside during the day, with air conditioners running twenty-four hours a day. Yet, as with all things, it’s relative: the streets were never quite empty—just more or less crowded, depending on the hour.

After so many years in this city, Xiao Tianci still hadn’t grown accustomed to the summer heat, especially when stepping out of the office at midday. He always felt as if a wave of hot air surged into his eyes, ears, nose, and mouth, scorching his very lungs. He had no choice but to pause and adjust, otherwise, despite his decent health, he might easily collapse in the swelter.

“No way, you’re still like this after all these years?” A plump, fair hand landed on Xiao Tianci’s shoulder. Its owner, Tong Cong, followed him out, weighing well over two hundred pounds—a true heavyweight.

Xiao Tianci glanced at his dorm mate and friend, Tong Cong, and shook his head helplessly. It wasn’t just that Tong Cong didn’t understand—he himself couldn’t figure it out. He was half a head taller than Tong Cong and a hundred pounds lighter, yet every time, he seemed to suffer more from the heat. It made no sense.

“Hey!” Xiao Tianci knocked Tong Cong’s hand away. When Tong Cong leaned on him, it was as if half his body’s weight pressed down; if not for X