A Novelist’s Guide for Side Characters to Survive

Chapter 34: “Then I Have One More Wish.”

Jiang Zu was hustled into the passenger seat of a Porsche, Zhou Lily plopping into the driver’s seat.

The next second, the back door yanked open, Zhou Ji scrambling in, urging his sister, “Go, go, go, drive! Dad’s catching up!”

Zhou Lily started the car, slammed the brakes, and turned the wheel in one fluid motion.

She drove fiercely, tires screeching against the pavement, nearly sparking.

“I…” Jiang Zu began.

“I’ve got a license,” Zhou Lily said, glancing at the rearview mirror.

“Buckle up.”

Jiang Zu complied.

The Porsche darted into traffic like a wild horse, slowing only after leaving the hospital area.

“Give me an account, I’ll transfer the money,” Zhou Lily said.

She cracked the window, wind blowing her now-dry long hair.

“Don’t be shy. Iris coloboma’s pricey, and your eyes are a bit infected, right? It’s on me.”

Jiang Zu had never met a rich person with this personality, unsure how to respond.

After a long pause, he said, “I need to go back.”

Zhou Lily figured she’d drop him off and talk to his parents instead.

She asked for his address, navigating to the remote orphanage.

The area was isolated, with sparse infrastructure.

Zhou Ji piped up from the back, “How about we grab food first? Sis, I heard you jumped and skipped dinner, worried you’d drown or Dad would beat you at the hospital. Can you not make a scene at mealtime next time?”

Zhou Lily shot back, “Do you ever check the clock when you cause trouble?”

Zhou Ji: “But why’d you jump? Weren’t you planning a trip with two boyfriends days ago? Third one found out, and you couldn’t handle it?”

“Shut up.”

Zhou Lily snapped, “Don’t worry, I will leave you nothing. It’s got nothing to do with you.”

“Then you’re heartless! My will leaves everything to you!” Zhou Ji retorted.

“Change it tomorrow.”

“Nope, better than leaving it to Dad.”

Seeing Zhou Lily ignore him, Zhou Ji turned to Jiang Zu.

He could only see part of Jiang Zu’s face in the mirror.

“Our savior, what’s your name?”

Jiang Zu paused, “Jiang Zu.”

“Brother Jiang!” Zhou Ji leaned over the seat.

“Thanks for being a hero. My sis is a mess, fragile, and can't handle setbacks.”

“Don’t hold back with her. When Mom split the money, she got eight, I got two. She’s loaded, no virtues, but plenty of cash.”

Zhou Lily, coldly: “I’ll make old Zhou pay.”

Zhou Ji perked up, “Even better! Dad’s money’s useless—either sunk in flop films or for his dozen mistresses. Take it, Brother Jiang.”

Zhou Lily didn’t turn, smacking him back to his seat.

Jiang Zu stayed tense, hands clenching on his knees, Zhou Ji’s words making breathing hard.

Seeing the navigation’s destination—orphanage—Zhou Lily understood.

“Wanna eat?” she asked Jiang Zu.

“Change clothes too. Going back like that might worry people.”

The car sped, wind lifting Jiang Zu’s bangs.

Streetlights flashed past his half-closed eyes, red pupils shifting, meeting Zhou Lily’s glance briefly.

He was quiet for a while, then nodded softly.

“Thank you,” he said.

*

Since the backtrack, the System hadn’t seen the host eat well.

Orphanage food was so-so, the school cafeteria a disaster.

It asked what it tasted like; the host said fairly, Better than 3D-printed stuff.

That meant awful.

Compared to 3D-printed food?

That said it all!

Now, the grandest dinner arrived!

The Zhou siblings didn’t skimp, driving to a fancy restaurant.

Built halfway up a mountain, it could pass for a standalone villa.

The three-story house was opened up, with a high ceiling and bright but soft chandeliers, complementing the classic decor.

At this hour, they were the only table.

The owner was closing, but seeing Zhou Lily and Zhou Ji, a call brought the chef back.

Grumbling on the phone stopped with triple pay.

Zhou Lily didn’t let Jiang Zu order.

The menu was all Italian, plus some piano pieces listed for flair.

Ordering wrong was fine; Zhou Lily could add dishes, say they were Jiang Zu’s, avoiding embarrassment.

But calling a pianist at this hour was inhumane.

Compared to Zhou Lily, Zhou Ji was subtler.

No brands head-to-toe, casual talker.

His Italian food tolerance stopped at pineapple pizza, the kind that’d enrage half of Italy’s artisanal chefs.

Zhou Ji planned to order KFC, not eating alone, cozying up to Jiang Zu with his phone: “Bro, pick something.”

Zhou Lily frowned, “Can’t you get two family buckets?”

“Leftovers for tomorrow, three meals sorted.”

Zhou Ji bickered with her, like a comedy routine.

Chu Zu waited for food, silent.

Per his character, he had little to say to them—different worlds.

But they were easy to be around, even for reserved Jiang Zu.

Zhou Ji never mentioned his eyes.

Zhou Lily noted “iris coloboma” once, then dropped it.

They treated him as “normal,” without obvious accommodation.

Thinking, Chu Zu pulled his waterlogged, dead phone, saying to them, “Can I borrow a phone… to tell Director Mom?”

Zhou Lily’s phone was lost; Zhou Ji handed him over.

Chu Zu meant to update the director.

He wasn’t working tonight, had mentioned the class dinner.

By habit, past 11 p.m., he’d check in, or she’d worry.

But a backtracked plot chased him.

By the window, Chu Zu quietly said someone fell in the river, he saved them, was now being treated to dinner, and would return after.

The director listened, asking cautiously, “You haven’t seen Lu Lin… have you?”

Chu Zu and the System sighed.

This dinner was doomed.

…

Out of concern, Jiang Zu asked about Lu Lin.

The director hedged, “Nothing, Lu Lin’s leaving for a bit… Don’t worry about him. I put the tutoring money back in your account… Come back soon, stay safe, A-Zu.”

Jiang Zu: “Leaving like Sang Zhe?”

On the other end, the director was silent, never lying to the kids but unsure how to answer.

After a pause, she said, “You’ll all leave. The orphanage isn’t great. I want you all to go out.”

“Why’s Lu Lin leaving now? Exams are done, no rush, right? He’s smarter, and can do things I can’t.”

The boy’s tone quickened by the window, “I don’t need the tutoring money. I know you’ve been—”

“We’ll talk later,” the director cut in, softening, “Eat well, we’ll discuss when you’re back, okay?”

The siblings watched Jiang Zu.

Not eavesdropping, but his shift was obvious.

Quiet before, he smiled when the call connected.

Jiang Zu’s smile was surprisingly nice, eyes curving, hiding most of his unique pupils.

It was “real,” unlike their usual fake smiles, oddly pure, even cheerful.

Not like the withdrawn guy before.

I saved someone.

His tone was childlike, expecting praise.

He cherry-picked, avoiding the river’s danger or his eye issues.

Suddenly, he sank, smile frozen, voice softening, then agitated.

After hanging up, the siblings saw a more withdrawn savior.

Both sharp, they glanced at each other, acting like nothing happened.

Zhou Ji, burger in hand, sauce everywhere, pushed fries to Chu Zu.

“Brother Jiang, dig in. I got clothes coming. Might not be stylish, but make do.”

Jiang Zu nodded absently, clearly not hearing.

He ate mechanically.

With poor vision, he fumbled for food, whether pricey foie gras with truffles or hot nuggets and fries, just shoving it in.

Zhou Ji, only fifteen, wasn’t as seasoned as his sister despite their dramatic family.

The burger tasteless, he got restless, making small talk.

“Brother Jiang, about the bank account, give it to my sis. With her style, if you don’t, she’ll cash it out and dump it at your door—pretty shady.”

Zhou Lily wanted to scold him, but Jiang Zu’s expression changed first.

His spoon dropped into the dish, hand bracing the table, face paling, but he gritted his teeth, red slit pupils holding stubborn resolve.

“I… I can write an IOU…”

Stammering, “But I don’t know how much I need. Director Mom didn’t say…”

The siblings froze.

Weren’t they talking about gratitude? How’d it jump to loans?

“Director Mom said good deeds shouldn’t take money, or they’re not good… But I do need money…”

His face worsened, fingers gripping the table, whiter than his face.

“I’ll earn it back… I can pay for it…”

Zhou Lily sensed trouble, asking the manager for warm water, signaling Zhou Ji to back off.

Zhou Ji recognized Jiang Zu’s look—his sister’s breakdowns were similar.

Zhou Shengzheng ignored his daughter’s mental issues, dismissing them as “overly sensitive,” forcing her into what she resisted, calling it overcoming setbacks.

Idiot.

Zhou Ji wasn’t curious why Zhou Lily jumped; he just wanted her alive, however she lived.

Using payment as an excuse, he slipped away, checking call logs, redialing the last number.

The woman answered, sighing, “The orphanage is fine, really, A-Zu, don’t worry.”

To ease him, she shared good news.

“I talked to your teacher. We’ll scrape together tutoring money, explain to the school, get subsidies. Retake a year, okay?”

Seeing Jiang Zu’s worsening state, forcing normalcy like Zhou Lily pre-breakdown, Zhou Ji panicked.

She’d gone to a rooftop at midnight!

Zhou Ji blurted Jiang Zu’s condition to the phone.

A clatter of something falling came through.

“Where is he? I’m coming!”

Zhou Lily, experienced, stayed calm, asking the manager to stop the piano music, quietly removing Jiang Zu’s cutlery.

“Deep breath, Jiang Zu. Know who I am?”

Jiang Zu: “Lily Zhou…”

“Right. You saved me hours ago. And my dumb brother—without me, he’d struggle. I’m fifteen, a motherless kid, tough life.”

Zhou Ji nodded, “Yeah, yeah, without her, I’m lost. Fifteen, no mom, super hard.”

Zhou Lily smacked him away.

“You saved me, so I’m treating you. We’re life-and-death friends. I’ll listen to your troubles, right? Relax, just friends talking.”

Zhou Ji covered his mouth, scared he’d blurt nonsense, eyes rolling, nodding furiously.

Zhou Lily kept talking to Jiang Zu.

Zhou Ji clutched the phone until the caller asked for the exact location.

The restaurant was remote, hard for cabs.

Zhou Ji rushed to pay the fare, bringing the person back.

The orphanage director, over fifty, kind-faced, hurried to Jiang Zu, ignoring others, pulling him into a hug.

She heard him whisper, “Sorry, Director Mom, I didn’t do a good deed…”

Her heart nearly broke.

With a familiar, trusted presence, Jiang Zu calmed.

His first act was apologizing to everyone for the trouble, ruining dinner.

And worrying Director Mom, making her come so far.

His face still pale, guilt misting his eyes.

Zhou Lily sent Zhou Ji to take him aside, crack jokes.

If he made Jiang Zu laugh, she’d cover his meals for a month.

Zhou Ji grumbled, “Do I need your food money? This is for Brother Jiang.”

After Jiang Zu stepped away, Zhou Lily introduced herself.

No beating around the bush—she wanted to fund the orphanage.

The director couldn’t muster joy, stirred by Jiang Zu’s state.

“I should’ve sent A-Zu to a better place sooner. I knew his issues but hoped he’d heal on his own…”

Zhou Lily: “You couldn’t have.”

The director paused.

She added, “I can tell you’re very responsible. You’ve done your best. Instead of dwelling on past mistakes, plan for the future, right?”

The director wiped her face, “You’re right…”

Zhou Ji focused on chatting with Jiang Zu.

Living with Zhou Lily, he knew how to talk to someone struggling.

“Brother Jiang, don’t stress. My sis is solid when not acting up. Her do-gooder streak’s unstoppable. Look, she’s hitting it off with the director. Let adults handle adult stuff.”

Jiang Zu: “I’m eighteen…”

Zhou Ji: “Didn’t notice! You look my age, prime youth. I mean… you’re not really an adult until you work!”

Jiang Zu: “I work at a supermarket.”

Zhou Ji: “…”

Never met someone this hard to chat with, Zhou Ji’s competitive streak flared.

Mouth moving, he rambled, avoiding triggering topics.

When his mouth dried, Jiang Zu finally shifted from watching Zhou Lily and the director, looking at him seriously.

“I’ll pay back the money, really.”

Zhou Ji slowed his breathing, fearing another episode.

But Jiang Zu’s reaction was milder, face pale, body trembling, yet he smiled faintly, eyes curving, restaurant lights warming his lashes.

Zhou Ji cautiously held his hand, like he did his sister’s.

Zhou Lily’s hands were always cold, like she was already a ghost.

Jiang Zu’s were warm, tremors easing with support.

“Thank you both. Director Mom always said the world has many good people, I should look forward to going out. I believe her now—she never lied.”

“…”

Zhou Ji pinched his thigh to stop himself from yelling.

God, he couldn’t hold back.

How did Jiang Zu do it?

Childish words sounded so sincere.

Before, his smile in passing didn’t hit.

Facing it now, Zhou Ji nearly hallucinated.

Sistine Madonna, Flora and Cupid, Carefree… art appreciation from his tutor flooded in.

He wanted to call the tutor, bragging he’d seen a pure, natural, innocent modern interpretation!

Zhou Ji recalled.

Zhou Shengzheng tried making a Forrest Gump style uplifting film, all flops.

Forget the scripts—actors couldn’t play naive well, worse than Zhou Ji’s fake innocence for his sister.

Fine for gullible audiences, but festival judges?

Dream on.

Zhou Shengzheng, stubborn, planned to refine scripts, wait years, scout real “pure, dumb” male college students.

Why scout?

The guy’s right here!

Jiang Zu, still smiling, asked, “What’s wrong?”

Zhou Ji couldn’t say: This jaded fifteen-year-old’s heart was cleansed by a pure big brother.

His flaw was his mouth outrunning his brain when excited, but he blurted, “Not that many good people. My sis is pretty bad.”

Jiang Zu took it seriously, countering, “No, your sister’s great.”

He added, “You’re great too.”

His smile deepened, “Dinner was delicious, fries too. I’ve never eaten anything this good.”

Zhou Ji’s mind blanked, wanting to fund his meals for a year.

He sensed danger, whispering, “I’ll let you in on something.”

Jiang Zu: “What?”

“My sis is bad, dating three guys, no responsibility. Watch out, Brother Jiang. You’re handsome, cool eyes, likable. If she’s into you, tell me, I’ll shut her down.”

Jiang Zu flushed, waving, stammering, “N-no…”

Zhou Lily and the director wrapped up.

Seeing Jiang Zu red as a shrimp, Zhou Ji nodding seriously, she yelled, “You slandering me as a player again?”

“I’ve got three boyfriends, so what? Do I look like I’d hit on my savior?”

Zhou Ji thought, Hard to say, but didn’t dare say, grinning, “Joking, joking. Done talking? Let’s add dishes, midnight snack time!”

He got a chair for the director.

When she hesitated, he said, “You’re here already.”

*

“Yay!”

The System was thrilled, flapping its chick wings in Chu Zu’s mind, shota voice lively and excited.

“Zhou Lily’s funding the orphanage, your angel investor, sending you to retake the exam. Post-exam, you pick a major, have connections, won’t get scammed, and can enter the industry legit!”

“She’s covering your therapy costs too!”

Chu Zu, finally eating well, nodded approvingly.

“Do more good deeds. I bet good people have a magnetic pull.”

The System forgot Lu Lin, giggling, “You’re this optimistic now—imagine how sunny you’ll be later!”

Chu Zu: “But I’ll repay the money. I can’t owe a cent.”

Debt was Jiang Zu’s nightmare, no positive associations, but this was different.

The creditor spoke gently, calling them life-and-death friends, and would listen to his troubles.

No one would pound doors at night, curse him, rage or cry over debts, or abandon him at a park symbolizing childhood joy.

Most importantly, Director Mom smiled, the orphanage would be okay.

Despite instinctual fear, his body reacting, mind flashing to countless dark nights.

But this time, Jiang Zu could firmly tell himself, Don’t be afraid.

You don’t need to cover your ears. Listen to them, express yourself.

No anxious waiting in an unknown home—the orphanage is your home.

Director Mom pushes you forward, her hug waiting when you return, as always.

Jiang Zu just needed to study hard, earn money, even if slow, for a bright future.

He could help Director Mom, help others like Zhou Lily helped him.

Life was an EKG of ups and downs, no hierarchy, just waves after waves, new challenges after each breath.

Progress or setbacks were normal.

Jiang Zu learned sincerity, and remembered only that.

He’d remember this night.

Soft piano music, food he’d never tasted, unlike burgers or nuggets he rarely splurged on.

The kind person he saved chose to help him; the fifteen-year-old made Director Mom laugh uncontrollably.

Night breeze rustled hillside trees, playing a melody.

Stars fell into those red eyes, like miracles hidden within.

*

The siblings didn’t plan to go home.

Zhou Ji aimed for an internet café, but Zhou Lily grabbed his ear.

They brought clothes for Jiang Zu to the orphanage.

Zhou Lily stayed with the director, Zhou Ji in Jiang Zu’s room, sharing bunk beds.

The director thought they’d sleep poorly—orphanage conditions weren’t great, and the siblings were clearly pampered.

But they settled in deftly.

Zhou Ji whispered about his sister, “She was stubborn and young, and ran away without money. Bet she’s slept in doghouses.”

Zhou Lily: “And you brought money when you ran?”

Zhou Ji puffed up, proud, “Bridge bottoms at most!”

The director kept smiling, then her phone rang.

Her smile widened, handing it to Jiang Zu.

It was Sang Zhe’s message.

She’d been in training camp, strictly managed, phone confiscated.

[I told Mom and Dad I’ll stay at the orphanage a few months after camp to play piano for the kids! Hope I’m not nervous!!]

[Oh, oh, Director Mom, I passed ABRSM Grade 8! Got a Curtis offer, full scholarship!!]

[I’m donating the tuition Mom and Dad prepared to the orphanage! They agreed!!]

[Lu Lin and A-Zu finished exams, right? I’m scared to ask how they did, they haven’t replied.]

[Sorry for texting so late.]

She ended with a sad bunny emoji.

Special school teachers taught Sang Zhe, unable to speak, to express via text.

Text limited emotion, so she added tone.

She loved exclamation marks, dense, showing her excitement.

Only the last two sentences used periods.

The system sighed, “All orphanage kids, how’s this girl so sweet?”

Chu Zu knew but didn’t answer.

The non-issue was answered at midnight by Zhou Ji, the banter king.

Jiang Zu wanted to reply to Sang Zhe but saw Director Mom tired, hesitant to ask for the phone.

In bed, Jiang Zu whispered from the top bunk, “Are you asleep?”

Zhou Ji, instant: “Nope, bro. Thinking if I catch another half-naked woman at home, how to throw a fit.”

“…Can I borrow your phone?”

Zhou Ji passed it up.

Jiang Zu called Sang Zhe.

After a few rings, it answered with a pre-recorded voice: “Hello, I’m Sang Zhe. Please text or leave a voicemail after the beep.”

Jiang Zu: “It’s me, A-Zu.”

A faint “ah” came through, a short, odd syllable, flat and sharp, like a forced throat strain.

Then rustling.

Jiang Zu curled up, saying to his friend, “I know your piano’s amazing, the kids will love it. Don’t be nervous.”

“I don’t know ABRSM Grade 8 or Curtis, but congrats, so happy for you!”

“Class group says Lu Lin did okay. I’m retaking. Director Mom says I must study… didn’t say must, but she’s firm, it’s for my good.”

“Oh, kind people are funding the orphanage. Don’t worry about us. They’re great, Director Mom’s been smiling all night!”

“…”

Sang Zhe couldn’t reply but made sounds to show she was listening.

Zhou Ji, on the bottom bunk, heard Jiang Zu cherry-pick, sharing joy, not woes.

During Jiang Zu’s cleanup, Zhou Ji talked about orphanage stuff with Zhou Lily.

She was now its main donor, and Jiang Zu’s.

The director was open, sharing everything.

Zhou Lily needed money too.

She loathed Zhou Shengzheng but was his spitting image, gender aside.

Both went all-out hurting others when unhinged, both messy in love, both directors.

But Zhou Lily, young, skipped grades, worked on sets, only twenty-two post-grad.

Refusing to use her dad’s clout, she struggled for funding, investing her own.

To Zhou Ji, she stacked every risky trait.

He was biased—art folks were half-crazy!

Needing emotional sensitivity, with a lousy dad, a fledgling career, three messy boyfriends.

For a patient like her, disaster!

Zhou Ji figured if money was short, he’d chip in.

Her happiness mattered, lest she spiral again.

Not quite spiraling—their mom died giving birth to him.

He never knew her, had no image.

But Zhou Lily did.

He couldn’t relate but loved his sister.

So he was grateful to Jiang Zu for saving her.

In his shoes, Zhou Ji would be furious.

What a jerk Lu Lin was.

Scamming a slow guy?

Not human.

Fair competition needed fairness, not just competition.

He got that at fifteen—how could an eighteen-year-old not?

And he just ran.

Legally, orphanage kids didn’t owe gratitude, and scamming wasn’t banned.

The law didn’t cover much.

It didn’t ban cheating after a wife’s death—did that make Zhou Shengzheng’s nonsense right?

Zhou Ji got Zhou Lily’s mindset.

Not just for saving her life or shared mental struggles.

Knowing what Jiang Zu endured, his attitude toward life despite issues, you couldn’t stand by.

Jiang Zu finished, leaning over to return the phone, saying, “Thanks.”

Zhou Ji: “Brother Jiang, stop thanking me. My fragility’s like my sis’s. Thank me again, I’ll cry.”

“Oh…” Jiang Zu leaned further, eyes on Zhou Ji, “I won’t thank. Don’t cry.”

Zhou Ji: “…”

Jiang Zu climbed down, hair messy, eyes peeking, giving Zhou Ji déjà vu.

Was their golden retriever like this?

“Brother Jiang…” Zhou Ji said quietly, “Have some guard. Me and my sis, what if we’re crooks after the orphanage’s savings?”

Jiang Zu blinked, “I can tell you’re good people.”

His umpteenth time saying it tonight.

Zhou Ji sighed, answering the System’s earlier question—

“I bet, Brother Jiang, if you had money, you’d be the world’s greatest good guy.”

Jiang Zu: “Only rich people can be good?”

Zhou Ji chewed his words.

Jiang Zu took things literally. Joking was fine, but this topic—he didn’t dare.

Jiang Zu added, “Then I have one more wish.”

Zhou Ji could answer, “What’s that?”

“I want to be smart.”

Jiang Zu said, “And rich. I want to be the world’s greatest good guy.”