Chapter 29

Chapter 29: Brainless

His roommate’s tone was casual, stating “I don’t have parents” as plainly as if he were saying “It didn’t rain today.”

Lin Jianyuan didn’t know what to say—his mind was a jumble. Suddenly, a lot of things clicked into place.

Like why his roommate, when buying a new phone, had picked an outdated model from several years ago. Why he never ordered takeout, always eating at the campus cafeteria or cooking for himself at home.

And his clothes. Lin Jianyuan had never seen him hang laundry on the balcony—he must have very few clothes.

His shoes never appeared on the rack, either. Did he really own just one pair?

Lin Jianyuan thought for a moment and said, “The poorest I’ve ever been, I only had 49 yuan left.”

Roommate: “Hm?”

Lin Jianyuan said, “I remember it clearly. It was December 1, three days before payday. I planned it out: ten yuan a day for the subway, that’s thirty for three days, and with the remaining nineteen, I’d buy some steamed buns and pickles. I’d definitely survive those three days.”

Roommate: “And then?”

Lin Jianyuan said, “Then at the start of the month, my phone plan auto-debited fifty yuan—and that pushed my account into the red.”

His roommate’s tone turned curious. “So what did you do? Borrow money from a colleague?”

Lin Jianyuan replied, “Nope. I went straight to the police station and told them I was about to starve. Asked if they could help me with a meal.”

Lin Jianyuan would never forget that bitterly cold winter night.

That day he’d worked late as usual. When he finally got off work and rushed to the subway to catch the last train, he found that no matter how he swiped, his ride code wouldn’t work.

He fiddled with it for ages before realizing it wasn’t a signal problem—he’d run out of data because his account was overdrawn.

In that moment, he felt utterly lost.

He didn’t even have enough saved to pay his phone bill. Sure, he could’ve gone somewhere with free Wi-Fi, connected, then used credit or borrowed a bit from a coworker.

But as he watched the last train leave, trudged out of the station into the biting wind, a wave of shame swept over him.

How did I let my life end up like this?

He knew missing the train was a small thing—an utterly trivial thing.

He also knew this was the straw that broke the camel’s back.

But the camel still collapsed, helpless beneath the weight.

In that instant, he was swallowed whole by helplessness and despair.

…Luckily, there was a police station right by the subway entrance.

He was already so wretched, a little humiliation didn’t matter anymore.

Giving up all pretense, he marched into the bright, spacious police station, explained his situation to the officer on duty, and was given a meal on the spot.

That night, not only did Lin Jianyuan wolf down the food, but the officer also lent him two hundred yuan so he could recharge his phone and take a taxi home.

In some other country, he might actually have starved, but in their country, that was impossible.

Try begging for money on the street, and you’d probably get nothing. But say you’re starving and just want a bite to eat, and anyone would help you.

But people here just couldn’t bear to see anyone go hungry.

“That’s really nice,” his roommate said after listening. “So you’re trying to comfort me, to say that even if I’m broke now, one day I can still have a good life?”

“No,” Lin Jianyuan replied. “I’m just telling you, if you ever can’t eat, go find the police.”

His roommate paused. “Can’t I just go to you?”

“No. Because I’m broke too.”

His roommate gazed “at” him for a long moment, then nodded in agreement. “Yeah. You really are poor.”

Lin Jianyuan raised an eyebrow. “You don’t even have seventy yuan and you’re calling me poor?”

His roommate curved his lips in a smile. “But I have nothing to spend money on. Except for just buying a phone.”

Lin Jianyuan watched him, realizing that smile held no trace of bravado.

His roommate just smiled, breezy and unbothered.

But, thinking about it, it made sense. His roommate was still at university—the better the school, the cheaper the tuition, and meals in the cafeteria were dirt-cheap.

And being a guy, he didn’t need many clothes.

Yet he was still a bit vain.

How did he look so impeccably put together, dressed to stun, with so few shirts and pairs of shoes?

Well, that tracked. At his age, as long as a guy wasn’t too chubby or too short, had fair skin, and kept himself clean and tidy, he’d be handsome enough.

After living together for a while, Lin Jianyuan felt that Xie Yu was someone who loved cleanliness and had almost no material desires.

He had no money, but he wasn’t anxious at all. He must have been working some day-labor gig—saved up for a phone when he had enough, and if he spent it all, he’d just openly admit he was broke.

No squirming, no shame, no blaming the world.

What a damn good temperament.

At that moment, a thought suddenly popped into Lin Jianyuan’s head:

If Xie Yu were a girl, he’d probably be falling for her by now.

The type who’d be gentle, serene, and calm, waiting for you at home to cook, keeping the place spotless, and never minding that you’re poor.

Take her out for king crab, and she wouldn’t be intimidated by the price; eat in some grimy roadside dive, and she’d be just as happy.

Not picky about food, either. Ate with real gusto. Just watching her eat would make your own appetite better.

If he ever met a girl like that, he’d truly fall for her—it would make him want to fight for her, give her the good life she deserved.

Pity his roommate was a guy.

So Lin Jianyuan just said, “Pay me back when you’ve got the money,” then went off to shower and sleep.

That night.

The dark red shadow arrived as expected.

As it slipped out under the door, the digestive system paused for a moment.

Then, with great care, it lifted the end of its own intestines—anything to avoid leaving a slick, wet trail across the floor again.

Squish toy: “.”

Little Stone: “.”

Neither dared say a word.

God knows how hard it was not to laugh when Lin Jianyuan had mistaken those intestines for a mop.

But they didn’t dare!

Really, they didn’t dare!

After all, that was an S-class mop—no, an S-class intestine!

It was obvious the digestive system wasn’t pleased, either.

Chomp!

This time, it bit down with a hint more force.

The skin of Lin Jianyuan’s throat immediately dimpled, a neat row of bite marks appearing.

Though there were dental impressions, they were shallow.

Not even close to breaking skin—after the bite let up, not a mark remained.

Squish toy and Little Stone could only shake their heads.

At that moment, Lin Jianyuan’s phone screen suddenly lit up in the darkness. Every aberrant turned to look.

Squish toy: “Another mission?”

Little Stone: “Working overtime again?”

Digestive System smacked the two flag-raisers out of the way, then curled up Lin Jianyuan’s phone, lifting it in front of itself.

On the screen: [Your government-subsidized xxx sweeping and mopping robot, with self-cleaning mop extension (three interest-free installments available), has shipped!]

Digestive System: “…”

Are you ever going to let this mopping joke die?

The esophagus puffed up with indignation. Digestive System was about to fling the phone away, but a sticky, wet membrane must have tapped something, and the product video started playing automatically.

“One robot, sweeping and mopping, 360-degree flawless cleaning—under the bed, along the baseboards, every hidden corner always spotless!”

“Self-cleaning function, hands completely free. After cleaning the floor, the robot returns to base for self-cleaning, and the mop is automatically dried. No worries about water marks left behind—or dirtying your own hands…”

Night pressed in deep. In the dim rental bedroom, the glow of the screen flickered over Digestive System’s mucous membrane.

Beside it, Lin Jianyuan slept soundly, breath even.

The two stress toys, hurled by intestines into the corner, didn’t even dare breathe.

They watched Digestive System, hunched over the phone, replaying the ad again and again.

Even the duodenum was tied in knots.

Meanwhile, across town, in the Bureau’s underground S-class containment zone—

“Aaargh! Why! Just fucking WHY!”

The inspector tore at a wild nest of hair, grimacing in despair at a heap of chaotic mathematical models, fingers scratching so hard he was bound for bald spots.

The movement patterns of Delirium that he’d finally mapped just two days ago—suddenly changed again!

Why the hell had it run west at 9 p.m.?

Why spend an hour bolting west only to abruptly dash east?

So, in reality, Delirium’s just fucking around with no pattern at all, is that it?

Then what was with that regular rhythm before?

Is there a pattern or not!?

Help! He was about to lose his mind!!!

Why do people have to work! Why the hell do we write reports!

Why analyze the movements of a goddamn braindead Aberrant and try to calculate its behavioral function, aaaaargh!

In the dead of night, when all was still and people slept—

—for the Aberrants, it was the perfect time to roam.

Meanwhile, elsewhere in the city—Lin Jianyuan’s company.

In a pitch-dark office, a printer suddenly flickered to life.

With a buzzing whir, sheets of paper were sucked in, printed with text, and spat out the other end.

Yet, after the printer had been running for quite some time, the out tray was completely empty.

A shadow covered the printer like a dense black net, wrapping it up tight and impenetrable.

Every time a page slid out, a moment later, a wet munching noise came from the darkness.

“Mmmph, tasty… not enough, still not enough…”

Down in the basement.

A blood-red tumor, swollen and monstrous, hung in the center of the room like an enormous heart—it suddenly thrashed!

Countless blood vessels engorged and bulged; the tumor contracted fiercely, its throbbing vessels lashing out like kraken tentacles!

—But just as they reached the ceiling, something resilient and strong blocked them, snapping the veins right back.

The tumor froze, then roared in fury: “You idiot! Let me out! Don’t you know something’s coming? If you don’t release me, our territory will be violated! Hurry up!”

But no matter how it cursed, Eye Vines said nothing. The vines only tightened, trapping it fast.

Tumor: “…”

Shit. It had forgotten something.

Eye Vines didn’t have a brain!

It was a B-rank now, but had only just evolved from C-rank!

A C-class Aberrant couldn’t talk, or think, at all!

Eye Vines was just a dumb brute that only knew how to tie things up—couldn’t understand a single damn word! Aaaargh!