On the tenth day of Lin Bei’s stay at Emerald Bay, she uncovered a shocking secret.

Su Chen might be a fake fu er dai.

Here’s how it all began—

That afternoon, Lin Bei was lounging on the sofa, scrolling through short videos. She had already mastered Su Chen’s daily routine: wake up at seven in the morning, go for a one-hour run, return at eight to shower and make breakfast, head out to work at nine, come home at seven in the evening, spend half an hour at the gym, then cook dinner, and finally hit the sack promptly at eleven.

It was as precise as a well-oiled German clock.

But today, that clock had broken down.

At three in the afternoon, Su Chen came home—four hours early.

And his expression was far from good. Not the kind of “I got yelled at by the boss” bad; more like “My whole world has collapsed.”

Instinctively, Lin Bei shifted from lying down to sitting up—a move that, in her energy-saving mode, counted as “emergency evasive action,” akin to playing dead in the animal kingdom.

Su Chen changed into slippers, walked into the living room, and sat down across from her.

Silence.

Thirty seconds of silence.

Lin Bei’s heart started pounding. She frantically tried to recall what she’d done lately—had she secretly eaten a box of his yogurt? That was last week. Had she washed her socks with his fancy facial cleanser? That was three days ago.

Had she used his bath towel as a rag? That was yesterday.

A bath towel? A rag!

Lin Bei’s face paled.

“Brother Su,” she said cautiously, “why are you back so early today?”

Su Chen glanced at her. That look reminded Lin Bei of her junior high school homeroom teacher—the kind that says, “I know what you did; you’d better confess yourself.”

“Lin Bei,” Su Chen’s voice was as calm as the sea before a storm, “where’s my bath towel?”

Lin Bei’s mind raced. She decided to come clean.

“Brother Su, please don’t be mad. Yesterday your bath towel fell on the floor, and when I picked it up, I noticed a stain that just wouldn’t come off no matter how hard I scrubbed. So I figured, since it’s already ruined anyway, why not put it to good use? I ended up using it to mop the kitchen floor.”

The air froze.

Su Chen’s expression went through three stages: disbelief, anger, and blank—exactly the kind of “I’m so furious I can’t even speak” blank.

Lin Bei hurriedly added, “But I washed it again afterward! Now the towel is perfectly clean—just a little bit warped, from rectangular to oval…”

Su Chen closed his eyes.

“A single bath towel,” he murmured, “an Hermès towel, a limited edition, four thousand eight.”

Lin Bei’s mouth dropped open in a perfect O shape.

“Four thousand eight? Four thousand eight for one towel? Then you might as well give me four thousand eight right now—I’ll go to the supermarket and buy you twenty towels, each printed with a different little animal!”

Su Chen opened his eyes and looked at her.

That look was complicated. There was anger, there was speechlessness, and a hint of “Why on earth did I ever rent to this person?” regret.

But strangely, there was also a trace of a smile.

“Compensation,” Su Chen said in a single word.

“I know, I’ll compensate. But you also know my situation… Can we do it in installments? One hundred a month, forty-eight months total?”

“Four years?”

“Exactly—forty-eight months to pay it off, with no interest. See, even though I’m poor, I’m trustworthy—”

“Do you know how long forty-eight months is?”

“Four years.”

“Will that towel still be around after four years?”

“Of course it will! I’ll enshrine it and burn incense for it every day!”

Su Chen took a deep breath.

Then he did something Lin Bei never expected—he smiled.

Not the kind of smile that comes from being amused, but rather one that says, “I’ve given up fighting.” It carried resignation, acceptance, and even a touch of self-mockery.

“Lin Bei, do you know what your biggest problem is?”

“Laziness? Poverty?”

“Neither,” Su Chen said, looking at her. “You’re just too full of trouble.”

Lin Bei was stunned for a second: “So… about the towel?”

“Never mind,” Su Chen stood up. “Anyway, I don’t even like that color. My mom bought it.”

End of Chapter 6: My Landlord Might Be a Fake Fu Er Dai