Chapter 1576: Wu Yiliu’s First Day After Leaving

The day Wu Yiliu left Professor Qiao’s house was divided into several parts.

First, he spent the whole day looking for Milan, and it wasn’t until dusk that Milan finally appeared. Second, after about half an hour of conversation, Milan quickly realized the severity of the situation and agreed to contact other posthumans. She and Wu Yiliu agreed to meet in two days at a specific time and place, then bid each other farewell in the dark.

Third, after Milan left, he sat alone on the steps of the small inn for most of an hour.

By all accounts, he had completed his task, and it was time to go back. Professor Qiao was getting old and couldn’t always rely on canned soup for dinner. He had already planned what dishes to buy for her when he returned. Instead, he bought a box of instant noodles and a can of milk from the inn’s front desk, and slowly ate it like a vagabond on the steps.

Pulling out his phone to check the time, Wu Yiliu put it back when he saw it only had 18% battery.

He raised both hands, covering his face.

When his fingers touched the disguise on his face, he silently laughed at himself in his palm. If it weren’t for the disguise, things might be better.

The noodle box emitted a spicy cabbage scent next to him. The temperature cooled down at night, and the cement ground chilled his pants and flesh. Behind him, the inn’s front desk phone rang, and the shop owner’s m.u.f.fled conversation lasted a while.

That man had just walked down the street for the third time, this time forgetting to change his coat.

Wu Yiliu looked into the grimy gla.s.s door of the inn when he went to throw out the trash. The fat man who looked like the owner leaned over the counter. His chin rested on the higher front desk surface, his bulging white eyeb.a.l.l.s unblinkingly on Wu Yiliu, like a giant sea cuc.u.mber with a human face.

Not long after Milan left, he found that he couldn’t move.

In this city of seven or eight million people, he should be just a grain of sand in the desert among the vast crowd. So what if he spent all day asking around? What could his movements amount to in the hustle and bustle of so many people? Was he so noticeable that he became a target?

How could he have been found so quickly?

Now, returning to Professor Qiao’s house was impossible.

He had nowhere to run, nor could he pretend not to notice the changes, hoping they would leave him alone—with his disguise stuck on his face. His only idea for self-rescue was to sit here until he couldn’t; because the only person who could save him in this world was Milan, but he didn’t know how to contact her.

All he could do was hope she would reappear suddenly, although he also knew this was more like a desperate attempt at luck than a self-rescue method. The longer he waited, the more elusive and shadowy this hope became.

However, the fact that these Changelings had not approached him was intriguing.

They had already found him, but why hadn’t they infected him directly?

Thinking about it, Wu Yiliu could only think of one answer: Milan. Her contact with posthumans was the only thing that made him special. The Changelings—at least some of them—already knew about the existence of posthumans, so knowing that Milan was a posthuman was not surprising.

So, they must have known that Milan was a posthuman for a while, but they didn’t know what they had just discussed, or whether she would come back, so they hadn’t acted rashly. Ah, no wonder he was targeted so quickly; it turns out he wasn’t the Changelings’ target.

It was Milan.

Yeah, compared to a posthuman, what was a regular person who hadn’t transformed? He was just an extra little fish that happened to b.u.mp into this situation foolishly.

Wu Yiliu gave a bitter smile.

Just as he stepped onto the stairs, a man in a uniform standing across from him extended a hand to him.

“What are you doing here? What are you loitering around for? The boss has complained; hand over your phone. I want to check it.”

Obviously, after waiting for so long, the Changelings seemed to think that Milan wouldn’t return. They probably didn’t expect that Wu Yiliu had pieced together the truth quite well, making up an excuse before handing over his phon. Was there anything here he could use?

Stay calm, he had to calm down.

Wu Yiliu trembled as he exhaled, unlocked his phone, and handed it over. His other hand, hidden in his pocket, was clenched tightly into a fist to keep from shaking. No one mentioned the word “privacy”; it seemed a little ridiculous now.

The other party wouldn’t find anything, because Professor Qiao’s phone number wasn’t in the phone. He knew what he was doing today was risky, he knew that everything he and the other person would do in the coming days was risky, so he had memorized Professor Qiao’s number early on and had an agreement: if he was safe, he would send her a message at seven o’clock; if not, it would mean something had happened to Wu Yiliu, and she must not contact him.

He didn’t expect to get into trouble on the first day he left Professor Qiao’s house.

The man looked very carefully. It was not easy to find someone among the Changelings who took their job so seriously. Wu Yiliu looked at the man’s face, whitened by the glow of the phone screen, and wondered if he was also satisfying his voyeuristic desires.

“The woman you were talking to just now, who is she? What did you talk about?” the man asked, putting the phone in his pocket after finding nothing.

Was he probing to see if he knew about Milan’s posthuman ident.i.ty? What should he say? How much should he say?

Wu Yiliu bit his lip hard and after two seconds, whispered, “I… I heard she’s the kind of person who can get me out of here.”

“Get out? What kind of person?”

The more he said, the more mistakes he could make; it was better to provide vague or even irrelevant answers and let the other person fill in the blanks. From what the other party filled in, he might even get new information.

“I… I don’t want to stay here any longer. I’m scared…”

“Ah, ambitious,” said someone with a laugh from above. “I didn’t expect you to be so imaginative, still thinking of getting out. You know quite a bit, huh? What next?”

Did he mean that he also knew about the existence of other apocalyptic worlds? Could it be possible that any random Changeling knew so much?

Wu Yiliu’s palms were sweaty.

“She said… she heard that some people can help – can take people out, but she can’t, and she doesn’t know who can. I begged her to find out for me, and she agreed,” he whispered, trying to sound as if he was begging for forgiveness. “I found out about her kind by accident. I only found this one, I… I was wrong.”

Although it was a lie to deceive, the last three words still made Wu Yiliu feel as though his bones were curling up, and his face became hot, as if he had been slapped. He would rather he had been slapped.

There was silence above for a moment.

“Get up, come with me,” the man commanded, not even bothering to identify himself, but speaking with unquestionable authority.

It seemed he could go no further. He couldn’t think of anything he could use – wait, why “come with me”?

The Changelings nearby, let alone this man and the hotel owner, could probably hold him down and infect him, right?

Think carefully about it, wasn’t it strange to go question him like this? If they wanted to get information from him, infecting him and turning him into a Changeling would actually be the most reliable way. The Changeling would rather risk getting false information than do so, and it’s clear that he deliberately—at least so far—refraining from infecting Wu Yiliu.

Was it because they needed normal humans for something? Was it just to lure other normal people into a trap?

After being roughly shoved into the back seat of a car, Wu Yiliu was squeezed between two Changelings, with no room for any small movements. He noticed that although they were hostile and brusque towards him, they indeed didn’t touch his exposed skin, let alone his face.

Wu Yiliu pretended to be terrified on the surface—no, he didn’t even have to pretend, he just needed to show his real fear—and constantly weighed the situation.

Currently known: 1, the Changelings know about the existence of posthumans. 2, although they don’t know how, they’ve secretly targeted Milan. 3, for some reason, they want to keep some normal people. 4, Wu Yiliu also knows about the existence of “posthuman” and is a “special resource” among normal people.

To a.s.sume causal connections between several facts is a common logical fallacy, something Wu Yiliu knew well—but still, he couldn’t help but form an idea.

Could they be keeping him to set a trap for Milan?

“Please,” he pleaded while probing, “Please let me go. I’ll do anything you want. I’ll be your slave, just don’t let me… don’t turn me into one of those things…”

The two Changelings exchanged glances but said nothing.

It seemed that the situation was just as he had thought.

Wu Yiliu thought he had guessed the Changelings’ plan, but he never expected the real answer to be far more unbelievable than his wildest imagination.

Two hours later, he found himself standing in an unfinished candy house.

Compared to the fairy-tale candy house, this one was quite sloppy: walls and floors made of cement and brick, apparently hastily constructed. Even in a snack factory, there were no actual furniture-sized product templates, so the round dining table in the room was made of who knows how many sandwich cookies glued together.

In order to finish quickly, the Changelings cut many corners, such as using lounge chairs instead of dining chairs because dining chairs were hard to make; instead, they used sponge cake as a basis. Whether it looked like a chair or not, it was meant to be eaten anyway. To make use of existing sweets, the candy house was decorated with various items. Sh.e.l.l chocolates were placed next to a sea-blue soft candy bar, cold light bulbs wrapped in cotton candy… reportedly, there were several such candy houses in the construction area.

In addition to candy houses, the construction area included facilities to cater to basic human needs like “Small Rest Hotel,” “Indulgent Dining,” “Sunday BBQ,” “Food and Desire,” and so on. There were also recreational areas such as “Light Gambling,” “Brainstorming,” “Water World,” “Audio and Video Festival,” and even a “Royal SPA.”

Each place seemed a bit crude, of low quality, hastily done, and aesthetically unpleasing. But it was only a bit. After seeing it all, if you weren’t careful, your standards would subtly slide down a bit, and you’d find them quite good, pa.s.sable, decent—just at that level.

“The moment the lights are on, it’ll be great, the effect then will be extraordinary!” said one of the Changelings who captured Wu Yiliu, satisfied. “What kind of life have they been living? Probably not even getting enough to eat. When they suddenly see the amazing place we’ve prepared, won’t they be dumbfounded? Besides, it’s a pocket dimension, there’s all kinds in it.”

Wu Yiliu’s fourth part of the day was spent in the fake pocket dimension the Changelings built.

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