A Novelist’s Guide for Side Characters to Survive

Chapter 39: “I’m Going Traveling Too, Wanna Join!”

Chu Zu called Zhou Ji, but he didn’t pick up.

He asked the System if it could check on Zhou Ji; it regretfully said no.

“Though our job’s changed, my functions haven’t. The main story’s just started. Zhou Ji and Zhou Lily aren’t main characters, no perspective, I can’t see.”

Chu Zu couldn’t watch both siblings and couldn’t leave the hospital.

Thinking, he texted Sang Zhe.

“You want Sang Zhe to check on him?”

The system peeked at the phone screen; Chu Zu typed [I’m worried Zhou Ji’s in trouble], sent with one tap.

It was past 3 a.m.

Sang Zhe, awake, replied fast.

She said okay, send the address, she’d go now.

Three exclamation marks followed.

“Check what’s up with Sang Zhe,” Chu Zu said, sending the address.

The system was confused—what could be wrong with her?

Chu Zu: “She shouldn’t reply so fast this late.”

System: “Oh, oh, oh!”

Checking, it found a plot segment.

After Chu Zu chased the Zhous, Sang Zhe felt uneasy.

The conflict’s core eluded her, but Zhou Lily, Zhou Ji, and Jiang Zu’s reactions spoke volumes.

Sang Zhe was sharp.

She wrote: [A-Zu didn’t provoke you, why scold him?]

Huge letters filled the notebook.

The troublemaker, at a polite distance, didn’t see it, lost in lingering fear.

Confirming the table could read, Sang Zhe wrote: [Apologize to my friend.]

This reached her parents’ ears.

At home, post-shower, they asked about Jiang Zu that night.

Sang Zhe wrote: [A-Zu got scolded for no reason!]

At home, freer, she was indignant, pen nearly piercing paper.

Her exclamation marks returned.

Parents asked, “So you stood up for him?”

Sang Zhe: [They can’t bully him!]

“Jiang Zu’s tougher than you think, Xiao Zhe,” they said. “He wasn’t hurt. But… others don’t know him, don’t care. They’ll think you’re backing Zhou Ji.”

Sang Zhe was puzzled.

Why not help Zhou Ji?

She observed everyone, especially Jiang Zu’s close siblings.

Zhou Lily was a decisive sister, her firmness hiding near-transparent care.

Jiang Zu’s rented place had a bookshelf; Sang Zhe bought it, filled it with books.

She wanted him to have quiet moments, “tricking” him, saying she was lazy, picking books.

Good ones were marked [Sang Zhe’s Storage]; she’d take them, add new ones.

Zhou Lily saw it, stashing DVDs.

Like Sang Zhe, she “lied,” saying no space at home.

Jiang Zu believed.

She’d swap old DVDs for new classics she’d dissected frame-by-frame as a director.

Sang Zhe guessed Zhou Lily used it as an excuse to check on him.

Post-work, Jiang Zu was independent, believing he could master his choices.

If struggling, he wasn’t trying hard enough.

He always wanted to be smart.

Zhou Lily saw his pride, checked less, only chatting during DVD swaps to confirm he was okay, then took him to eat.

Zhou Ji… was chatty, restless.

At the orphanage, he roughhoused with kids or rambled to Jiang Zu.

He didn’t catch Zhou Lily’s subtle care, saw her stuff on the shelf, and demanded space.

He left game discs.

Buying two copies, he’d sneak to Jiang Zu’s on free or skipped days, playing on his account.

Once, Sang Zhe and Jiang Zu planned dinner, but he was unreachable.

She used her key.

In the small room, she faced Zhou Ji, screaming with a controller.

He shut off the game, sat upright, faking maturity, then scratched his head, embarrassed.

He said Jiang Zu skipped therapy for two weeks, phone confiscated by Zhou Lily for a talk, and would return soon.

He was there to greet visitors.

His greeting?

Handing Sang Zhe a controller.

They played Overcooked, her piano-agile fingers fumbling.

Zhou Ji held back curses, a room filled with game music and his yells.

When Jiang Zu and Zhou Lily returned, Zhou Ji was rolling on the floor, crazed.

Zhou Lily kicked him lightly, told him not to bark, and asked if he cursed the girl.

He whined he’d never been so polite.

Sang Zhe, mortified, Jiang Zu smiled as usual, ignoring the siblings, greeting her, taking her to eat.

For paper-communicating Sang Zhe, wild Zhou Ji wasn’t her type to bond with.

But Overcooked was fun, Zhou Ji too.

With others, she’d freeze, unsure of long silences.

In a way, Zhou Ji was considerate, differently from his sister.

Plus, they helped the orphanage, her other home.

[I want to help him!] Sang Zhe wrote.

Her parents exchanged glances, softening, “The Zhous’ mess is complex, tied to Li Qiya, the Li family…”

“Xiao Zhe, we’re not blaming you. It’s unnecessary. The Zhous will face countless issues, none simple. You can’t help, don’t know how. That circle’s chaotic—you might make it worse.”

They repeated, “Unnecessary, really. Focus on your career.”

Sang Zhe never fought her parents, rarely got mad, but felt awkward.

She knew they meant well, and had no ground to argue.

Since Curtis, they’d stressed “career planning.”

She had no grand ambitions, and played piano because she wanted to.

Few peers, fewer seniors, most music-focused, but not entirely.

Their brilliance—masterclass wit—made her doubt: Am I just piano?

She overthought.

Beyond piano, do I have nothing worth seeing?

She didn’t fight.

Noticing her mood, they knocked later, “Tour done, wanna travel to unwind?”

She agreed, booked a random flight—anywhere but home, to breathe.

She wanted to ask Jiang Zu along but didn’t dare.

She knew he’d stay with the Zhous, doing what she couldn’t.

“Then she saw your message. Eager to help, she agreed, snuck out,” System reported, sighing.

“Her parents are why she’d travel, but agreeing to check on Zhou Ji, she’ll likely cancel.”

“Don’t cancel. Travel’s good, she should ditch the piano to relax,” Chu Zu said.

The system agreed but fretted, “Meeting Lu Chulin’s trouble!”

“Not urgent, easy fix.”

Chu Zu didn’t elaborate, kept calling Zhou Ji.

No answer.

Soon, Sang Zhe texted: [I’m here, villa door’s open, I’m in!]

[No one downstairs, phone’s ringing in the living room!]

Chu Zu’s persistent call connected, but Sang Zhe answered.

“Go upstairs, find him!” Chu Zu said.

Soon: [I see Zhou Ji!]

Chu Zu asked System, “Can you see his status now?”

System: “Yes!”

With protagonist Sang Zhe present, the story unfolded from her view.

The system streamed live to Chu Zu’s mind, letting him track from the hospital.

Zhou Ji was at Zhou Lily’s bedroom door, slumped, clutching the empty bottle, back to Sang Zhe, still.

She arrived sweaty, unsure what to do, why he sat there.

She froze, lost.

Chu Zu: “How’s he now?”

Sang Zhe, phone in one hand, texted: [He’s at the door!]

“Maybe squatted too long, legs numb,” Chu Zu said.

“Give him his phone, I’ll talk.”

Sang Zhe found purpose, lips pursed, approaching slowly.

No notebook, voiceless, she didn’t dare help him up.

Despite her presence, Zhou Ji stared at the bottle, eyelids drooping, eyes red.

She tried handing him the phone; no reaction.

She recalled his usual loud laughter, her parents’ words, and heart aching.

Squatting beside him, hesitating, she lifted the phone to his cheek.

Wanting to alert Chu Zu but seeing Zhou Ji’s face, she couldn’t look away.

Finally, she opened her mouth, forcing out an awkward, flat, shrill sound.

Chu Zu forgot to say—open speaker if no response.

Before he could, Sang Zhe’s “clumsy” solution silenced him.

System, muted, sighed endlessly.

It loved Sang Zhe more. Loved!

…

“Zhou Ji, are you listening? I’ll assume you are.”

The room was dead quiet, Chu Zu’s voice audible through the air.

Sang Zhe exhaled, holding the phone steadier.

“Sister Lily’s fine, I’m with her.”

“I want to be with you, but you’re scared to face her… She won’t scold, she’ll pull through, she’s always worked hard, this too.”

“She didn’t… because of your mistake.”

“I know, she’s been sick, struggling, couldn’t hold on. Illnesses heal. When I was sick, you all stayed. I’m better, Sister Lily’s tougher.”

“She’s not tough,” Zhou Ji’s gaze shifted from the bottle.

“She has to be.”

“The industry ranks—pretty over ugly, men over women. My sis, plain, third-class, only edge is some money.”

“Not enough, so even on the director’s chair, she hears whispers.”

“She told me she’d risk climbing, but we only call winners survivors.”

He knew Jiang Zu didn’t grasp class or gender bias, unaware those with power ranked others.

“She’s not tough, forced on the hardest, surest path.”

The phone voice said, “She wasn’t forced.”

Added, “And Sister Lily’s beautiful.”

Zhou Ji’s eyes twitched.

“Hearing you say that, I’m a bit mad. Why call her hard work ‘forced’? She can complain when tired, but you can’t think that. Respect her effort.”

“At the nursing home, I was told not to let the elders feel pitied. If respect and care aren’t pity, why make them feel weak?”

“Don’t do that.”

Zhou Ji listened, emotions shifting.

Their perspectives clashed.

Jiang Zu was always positive.

“You need rest, Zhou Ji. Sister Lily needs rest, you too. Don’t see her now, you…”

He hesitated, bad at directing people.

Zhou Ji got it.

Regaining reason, he chewed Jiang Zu’s words.

Undeniably, the youth caring for elders and kids had keen instincts.

He didn’t know why, but knew what helped Zhou Lily.

Even rushing to the hospital, he couldn’t face her, which would only worsen things.

Zhou Ji: “If… she asks, say I’m traveling.”

“Traveling?”

“I need to lay low,” Zhou Ji said.

“I don’t know if Li Qiya will keep using me. Gotta fade from the project before the media moves.”

Their talk was long.

Zhou Ji, recovering, forgot to take the phone.

Sang Zhe held it one-handed, arm aching, propping her elbow.

Lacking strength, trembling, she couldn’t hold it, phone sliding down Zhou Ji’s cheek.

He reflexively caught her arm.

The phone voice continued, “Good, I’ll tell Sister Lily. Take care… thank Sang Zhe for me, is she there?”

“…Here,” Zhou Ji mumbled.

Meeting Sang Zhe’s eyes, he realized his mess, embarrassed by his words, hastily grabbing the phone.

“If you’re okay, take Sang Zhe home. She snuck out. If her parents catch her, explain it was me…”

Jiang Zu rambled; Zhou Ji, dazed, reacted only when Sang Zhe’s look prompted, after the call ended.

Sang Zhe, relieved, rubbed her arm.

Squatting long, her numb legs failed, toppling her.

Zhou Ji tried helping, but couldn’t stand either.

Sang Zhe smiled faintly, typed on her phone—

[I’m going traveling too, wanna join!]

…

“I realized none of us four are fully sound,” Chu Zu said.

“By mental stability, I’m above Sang Zhe, above Zhou Ji, above Zhou Lily. I’ll stay with Zhou Lily, Sang Zhe and Zhou Ji, who can pair perfectly, and I can track them.”

How it led to Zhou Ji agreeing to travel with Sang Zhe, System was clueless.

But Chu Zu wasn’t surprised.

“Zhou Ji needed to hide. Even if he didn’t say anything, I’d nudge him. Kid’s sharp, I’m a bit proud.”

System: “Is Zhou Ji joining Sang Zhe, or vice versa?”

“Not important. Even if Lu Chulin shows, no issue. I don’t believe they’d fall in love over Zhou Ji. If they do, then I…”

The system perked, “You’d sabotage!”

Chu Zu: “I’d believe this world has some mysticism.”

System: “…”

System, confident: “Now we fix Zhou Lily’s film?”

Its host might not know the industry, but knew scheming!

Chu Zu: “No, it depends on Zhou Lily’s wishes. I think she wants to handle it. She’s strong-willed. I’ll help when needed.”

The system agreed—seeking help was key, but climbing back yourself was better!

“Then now…?”

Chu Zu named, “Zhou Shengzheng.”

He said, “Zhou Lily’s too gentle, too reasonable with her dad. I’m not, I can’t stand irritants.”