Chapter 2

A middle-aged woman quickly walked to the entrance of Fulin Supermarket. She looked at the old man and said, "Grandpa Zhang, why is Qingchen here to play chess with you again?"

The two seemed to know each other.

But Grandpa Zhang's tone wasn't as polite: "Your own son, and you're asking me? He's short on living expenses and can only earn a little money by playing chess to buy food."

The middle-aged woman, Zhang Wanfang, was taken aback: "But I give Qingchen's father his living expenses every month."

This made Grandpa Zhang pause as well: "Then I don't know what's going on."

Grandpa Zhang pondered. Zhang Wanfang wasn't poor, and it seemed she gave Qingchen a decent amount of living expenses. But why was the young man living so frugally?

Qingchen didn't seem like a wasteful person; he was always meticulous with his expenses and never drank any beverages.

"But shouldn't he be in evening study now?" Zhang Wanfang asked.

At this moment, Grandpa Zhang remembered: "He said he was waiting for someone."

"I can't just leave it at that; I need to go home and check," Zhang Wanfang said.

As she was about to leave with the cake, the man beside her suddenly said, "Wanfang, Hao Hao's birthday is today, we've already booked a table, and we still need to take him to the movies after dinner!"

Zhang Wanfang turned to look at the man: "Qingchen might be skipping class; I can't just ignore it."

"He's seventeen and can take care of himself. Besides, there's his father," the man said, then softened his tone: "Actually, we can visit him on the weekend. Let's celebrate Hao Hao's birthday today?"

Zhang Wanfang frowned at this, but after a few seconds, she sighed: "Alright, let's celebrate Hao Hao's birthday today."

...

On the shaded path of the municipal government's residential area, Qingchen walked silently under the camphor trees.

Unlike the high-rise buildings of modern cities, this compound consisted of four-story low-rise buildings from the 1970s, without elevators or gas, and the sewers often clogged.

The house couldn't use high-power appliances because it would trip the circuit breaker.

Qingchen walked into the dim entrance, ignoring the graffiti-like ads for lock-picking and real estate on the walls, and took out his key to open the door to his first-floor home.

A 76-square-meter apartment with two bedrooms and a living room, the first-floor unit had poor lighting.

He took out his phone, opened the contact list, and dialed: "Hello, Dad..."

The voice on the other end interrupted him: "If you need living expenses, ask your mother. I have no money; she's the one with money now."

As he spoke, the sound of mahjong tiles could be heard from the other end.

"I don't want money," Qingchen said softly. "I haven't asked you for money in a long time."

"What do you want then?" the man asked impatiently. "Another parent-teacher meeting? Ask your mother; she should handle these things..."

Before the other person could finish, Qingchen hung up the phone.

He leaned lightly against the closed door and rolled up his sleeve under his school uniform.

He stared at the white numbers and symbols on his forearm, which looked like a liquid crystal display: Countdown 5:58:13.

The white numbers seemed to be embedded in his flesh and skin like a fluorescent tattoo, and no matter how he rubbed, he couldn't erase them.

Upon closer inspection, Qingchen noticed that the numbers had intricate and special patterns, like mechanical parts interlocking, giving a sense of futuristic technology.

The numbers changed silently.

Countdown 5:58:12.

Countdown 5:58:11.

With 5 hours and 58 minutes and 11 seconds left, it seemed to remind Qingchen that something incredible would happen in 5 hours and 58 minutes.

Though there was no sound, Qingchen clearly heard the ticking of a second hand in his mind.

Qingchen glanced at his phone, which had just ended the call, and then at the empty room.

He didn't know what kind of life he would face in 5 hours and 58 minutes, but he knew that he could only rely on himself.

...

Time is a heavy unit of measurement, marking the length of life and the breadth of civilization.

The concept of time exists in everyone's life.

So when a countdown appears in your life, no matter what it's counting down to, it creates a sense of urgency.

There were 5 hours left, and no one knew what the end of the countdown would be.

It could be danger?

Or perhaps a different life?

Qingchen couldn't be sure, so he had to prepare for the worst.

He needed to prepare some things before the countdown ended.

If danger really came, he wanted to have at least some ability to defend himself within his means.

Qingchen changed into a clean gray jacket, using the hood to shadow his face.

Taking advantage of the night.

He left for the farmers' market; the sky in Luocheng in October was already dark early.

The sound of cooking came from the residential buildings, the sizzling of vegetables and oil, followed by the enticing aroma.

The smells of eggs, pork, and mutton flooded Qingchen's mind like information, and when he needed it, he could retrieve a "save" from his memory.

He bought pliers and a spade from a hardware store, a bag of rice and a bag of flour, and salt from a grocery store.

He also bought some antibiotics from a pharmacy and batteries, a flashlight, and compressed cookies from a supermarket.

Not knowing what he would face, he tried to prepare as much as possible.

These items almost depleted all of Qingchen's savings.

After bringing the items home, Qingchen went to the kitchen and placed the usable knives in the most convenient places in the house.

He put the kitchen knife under his pillow and the boning knife on the bedside table.

Countdown 2:43:11.

He checked that the doors and windows were securely closed, then sat on the bed and began to ponder: Should he seek help?

From whom?

His mother had a new family, and his father was a gambler.

When Qingchen first noticed the countdown on his arm a few hours ago, his 17-year-old self instinctively wanted to seek help from his parents.

But he quickly dismissed this idea.

Qingchen tried to take a photo of the white countdown on his arm with his phone, but the white patterns visible to his naked eye did not appear on the screen.

The room was dim, with no lights on, and the windows didn't block sound. Being on the first floor, he could often hear the footsteps of passersby outside.

The footsteps outside, the breathing inside, and the faint light of the phone screen made everything seem so peaceful yet eerie.

This bizarre and absurd situation probably wouldn't be helped by ordinary people, and he had no particularly close friends at school.

Even if he did, he shouldn't involve ordinary people in this.

So, if he needed help, he would have to find another way.

Wait, Qingchen seemed to have an idea and got up to search the living room.

Two minutes later, he silently looked at the Guanyin Buddha pendant in his hand.

He then placed it in front of him and bowed nine times.

The last preparation was complete.