Dream Delivery System: My Delivery Jobs Keep Changing History – CH52

Chapter 52

“Since there’s nothing else, meeting adjourned.” Parsons swept his gaze around the room, not planning to explain anything.

Because Parsons carried a terrifying amount of authority, no one dared to question him. They exchanged frantic looks in private, curiosity burning them alive, but they didn’t dare follow him. They could only watch helplessly as he picked up his phone and left.

Once the door closed—

“Why did the boss specifically say, ‘I have plans tonight’?” Even the slowest person sensed something was wrong. Parsons never explained himself.

“Suddenly transferring to C-Nation… aside from the suitable environment, there must be another reason.” Nick pushed up his glasses with a meaningful expression.

“I heard the boss has even been studying the C-Nation language recently. I bet he’ll be reciting poetry in C-Nationese soon. After all, men in love are all gifted poets.”

“I knew something was off.” The chubby guy slapped his thigh. “So will he succeed?”

“That’s nothing to worry about. No girl can reject a wealthy, handsome, talented, mature man. Even if he doesn’t understand love—he’s rich.”

“…I remember the boss is nineteen.”

“What? He’s nineteen? Are you sure he’s not twenty-nine?!”

All these comments were sealed behind the thick security door. Parsons didn’t hear them—and even if he did, he wouldn’t care. He adjusted the wrinkles on his sleeve in the elevator mirror.

The hotel attendant kept the perfect professional smile—eyes to nose, nose to heart—until Parsons suddenly asked:

“Where can I find a shared electric scooter?”

“…I’m sorry, did you say… a shared scooter?”

A huge, broad-shouldered man riding a tiny, cute electric scooter slowly rolled out of the luxury international hotel—parading through the streets. The combination was so outrageous that even the weary after-work crowd paused to stare.

“Kids’ toys can go on the road now?”

“I don’t think that’s a kids’ toy…”

Indeed, it wasn’t. It was the hotel’s latest foldable electric scooter—collapsible to backpack size with one button—designed for people under 170cm.

But now it was under the control of a 196cm man. Even with the seat and handlebars raised to the max, the scooter still looked mini. Its cool mint-green body was overshadowed by his size, making it look childlike.

Parsons had been stared at since childhood. He was immune.

He rode toward the pastry shop he had “accidentally” memorized when passing by, bought the cake he had “accidentally” remembered, and followed the navigation to the small hotpot place next to the university.

The hotpot shop was crammed in a roadside alley, the street only wide enough for a single lane—cars could barely squeeze half of themselves in.

No wonder that person warned: “Better not drive. There’s no parking.”

But despite the remote location, business was still good—not fully packed, but at least half full.

Parsons scanned the room—no sign of him.

Just as he locked the scooter, he felt an unusual gaze. Turning his head, he found Jiang Jitang holding two cups of handmade gelato.

Today, Jiang Jitang wore a fresh, youthful green tracksuit—so bright he looked like he was dripping springtime.

A sequined-logo green jacket, grey casual pants—standing at the alley entrance, waving lightly at Parsons.

“Still so sharp. Can’t even look twice without being noticed.” Jiang Jitang smiled with narrowed eyes.

That wasn’t right—other people’s gazes weren’t like his. Jiang Jitang’s gaze had the pressure of a hunter. Parsons was a warrior—being alert was normal.

Parsons glanced at himself subtly. From head to toe he wore black, which only made him look dull next to Jiang Jitang’s lively colors—like smoked beef jerky beside fresh fruit.

[I said I’d show you this city’s charm, starting with dinner. Of course, if you’re busy, we can reschedule.] That was the first message Jiang Jitang sent, with no room for refusal between the lines.

The second: [Don’t worry about anything. I’m used to eating alone anyway.]

When Parsons read those two messages, he told himself: Dinner is just part of social interaction.

Even strangers could bond over a meal. Their relationship was far closer than strangers.

It definitely wasn’t because he’d been completely predicted—down to his reaction.

…Fine, he had been predicted.

But he refused to show it. Otherwise this guy would smirk the whole night, then write a long letter pretending not to know anything.

That was exactly the kind of person Jiang Jitang was—punch-worthy… or punch-worthy most of the time. The only reason he hadn’t been beaten to death was that face—two lifetimes of immunity.

“I’m only curious about this world’s food.” Parsons emphasized again as Jiang Jitang approached. It absolutely wasn’t because of someone.

…Which of course exposed him instantly.

Curious about this world’s food? He’d been here for days—maybe weeks—and hadn’t tried anything. But one invitation from him and he came.

Jiang Jitang’s lips curled so hard that even his imaginary tail wagged.

“You’re new here—you must have so much to deal with. Actually it was inconsiderate of me to ask you out now… You could’ve refused. You didn’t because you couldn’t bear to, right? Because of me?”

He asked knowingly, eyes curved like crescent moons, fixed on Parsons.

Parsons kept a straight face—only his earlobes quietly turned red.

“Thank you.” Jiang Jitang suddenly said.

Retreat to advance? Parsons wondered.

“Thank you for being the same as always.” Jiang Jitang smiled softly now—no teasing, only sincerity. Seeing Parsons like this made him genuinely happy.

He just… couldn’t resist wanting to see him.

Parsons stood there, fingertips tingling: “What do you mean?”

But Jiang Jitang was a mystery—because the next second he changed the subject:

“Didn’t you say you want to see me clearly? You can’t do that from a distance. You have to look from up close.”

He shoved the bag in his hands toward Parsons. “Here—two cups of coffee-flavored gelato. Don’t know if you’ll like them. I picked them specially. Waited in line forever.”

He teased again, then stepped back innocently as if everything else was Parsons overthinking.

Parsons tightened his grip: Pure? My ass. He did it on purpose.

That trick no longer worked on the once-naive knight.

Parsons presented his cake as if casually: “Bought it on the way. A return gift. For the latte last time.”

Then walked inside with the gelato.

Jiang Jitang looked at Parsons’ slightly hurried back, then at the cake box.

Half a city of “on the way” huh?

With a grin spreading to his eyebrows, he followed. “I love this place. Why are you walking so fast? Do you even know which private room I booked? Are you scared of me?”

Parsons sped up.

Most customers were students—friends eating together, or couples dating. Their relationships were all obvious. Only Jiang Jitang and Parsons looked strange.

If they were friends, why weren’t they talking? No physical contact, keeping distance. If they weren’t—why the shy smiles and red ears?

“Two handsome guys—different styles.” The young customers noticed, but real-life fangirls weren’t as wild as online ones. They just sneaked glances.

“Wait—that’s one of our seniors.” Students from NUL spotted Jiang Jitang.

“It is! Senior Jiang!”

Jiang Jitang noticed them but ignored them completely, filtering out all noise.

“Sit.” He found a small booth with plants blocking the view.

A server approached with menus. “Long time no see. Here with a friend today? Small pot or big pot?”

“I eat spicy. He doesn’t. Two small pots.” Jiang Jitang passed Parsons the menu—written in both languages.

“You choose. Otherwise you’ll say I’m being controlling again.”

He spoke gently—as if coaxing someone. The server’s face stiffened slightly, nostrils flaring, eyes darting away.

Parsons felt something off—but couldn’t pinpoint it. Because he had made that complaint once—during their argument.

Am I being overly sensitive?

The honest knight reflected on himself.

The menu was all hotpot bases and ingredients. Parsons had never tried any of them. He simply picked the one marked “best-seller” and “non-spicy”—a tomato broth.

Then he added recommended items: beef rolls, lamb rolls, tripe, shrimp paste, fish balls…

In his world, nobody avoided offal or mixed cuts—so he accepted everything easily.

Jiang Jitang ordered a spicy lamb-spine pot, lots of dishes, and a pitcher of iced soy milk.

After the server left, Jiang Jitang opened his cutlery and casually said:

“I’ve eaten here for years. This is the first time I’ve brought someone.”

Parsons said nothing.

Jiang Jitang didn’t mind. He scooped his gelato, lashes low: “Strange, isn’t it? With a relationship like ours—deadlocked for so long—why is the first person I wanted to eat with… you?”

A hotpot place, not suitable for lone wolves. He always ate alone here.
But he brought you.
You’re special.

Parsons warned himself: He’s cunning like a fox. Don’t take everything seriously.
But another voice said: the server couldn’t have collaborated with him to lie… and he had no reason to make something like this up.

The demon sword scoffed: You said you’d stay calm.

He absolutely wasn’t calm.

Jiang Jitang let him think. After all, he was telling the truth.

Past or present, with or without memories, Jiang Jitang never trusted easily. All relationships stayed at the level of ordinary friendship. No further.

He knew he was suspicious and pessimistic. Even now—though he was the one approaching Parsons—he still held doubt.

Maybe someone like him didn’t deserve friends.

“What are you doing now, Parsons?” What job kept him in C-Nation?

“…On leave from school.”

“Leave?” Jiang Jitang was surprised. Western faces matured early, but he didn’t expect Parsons to still be a student. “Are you an adult?” …Hopefully not underage?!

“Nineteen.” Parsons didn’t hide it.

Hearing nineteen surprised him more—because Jiang Jitang, who looked so young, had already graduated. With that still-youthful face, he seemed to be at the border between teen and adult. Taking him to a bar would probably require ID checks.

Not wanting to stay defensive, Parsons counterattacked:

“I still don’t know what job you’re doing now.”

“A job that doesn’t create anything, just assists in the movement of goods, promotes material exchange between people, involves planning, purchasing, and hand-off, requires adult-level physical ability and knowledge, good communication skills, and the ability to handle unfamiliar environments and variable human interactions.”

Parsons’ expression became confused. What job was that?

“Delivery courier,” Jiang Jitang said.