Chapter Fifteen: What Sweatshop?

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As Su Wen stepped out of the doors of the Mental Review Bureau, he clearly saw Jiang Menghan sitting in the shade of a tree in the distance. The young girl was holding a book, deeply absorbed in reading. But before he had even drawn close, she gently closed the book, as if she had anticipated this moment, and asked, “Is everything going smoothly?”

“Natural rights and talents aside, compared to the supernaturals, I am first and foremost a lawful citizen protected by the law,” he replied with a smile.

“Could it be that Miss Jiang expects me to pull off some headline-worthy stunt in the Special Affairs Bureau?”

“I’m not that bored,” Jiang Menghan said, her clear eyes fixed on him. “If you make the headlines, it’s probably because of some illogical act of reckless heroism you pulled before.”

“That was a decision I made after careful thought,” he said inwardly, thinking, (I was worried about that stubborn girl who turned off her phone.)

Su Wen didn’t voice that last thought; instead, he casually took the unopened drink bottle beside the girl and, twisting off the cap, asked, “What are you reading?”

“Shelley’s poems,” the girl answered calmly, then added, “Also, that newspaper you’re holding is outdated.”

Su Wen didn’t quite understand her remark. He pulled out his phone and saw the notification bar flooded with a red dot marked 99+, and only then did he realize what he had missed again. After all, the major media were dominated by one topic.

Just like the previous hard sci-fi feature film, it was the mysterious submission company “Azure” that sparked the craze. But this time, it was a documentary:

“The Nightwatcher, Waiting Quietly for the Dawn.”

The most memorable scenes weren’t just the moment he saved Count Reinhardt, but also this handsome European gentleman leaning against the wall inside a burning banquet hall, gazing out at the fading dawn.

“Mr. Reinhardt is so handsome.”

“From now on, he’s my idol.”

“Who filmed this documentary?”

“If I were there, I’d definitely fall in love with him.”

“Please watch your language upstairs; Reinhardt is my husband.”

“The standard gun-holding stance, and with no deviation in aim despite the recoil during movement—this Nightwatcher must be well-trained.”

Comments flooded the documentary overwhelmingly with praise. Perhaps many didn’t grasp the deeper meaning behind the film, just as the English don’t necessarily make reading the Times their first morning ritual; instead, the lighter and more youthful Guardian, favored by the scientific community and young people, might appeal more.

Watching those comments, Su Wen silently nodded.

“The first time I’ve seen a leading man handsome enough to be second only to me.”

“Vulgar.”

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Jiang Menghan offered a very apt reply.

“Isn’t vulgarity good? I think you’re especially beautiful, especially when you’re reading.”

Su Wen looked at the girl beside him, her words a mix of playful teasing and earnestness.

“Really.”

“Idiot.”

Jiang Menghan closed her book, her fair and lovely face flushing slightly, then turned her head to whisper,

“It would be even better without those meaningless qualifiers.”

Su Wen wasn’t sure if he heard that, but he smiled gently and said,

“After all, I’ve never changed. What do you want to eat later? You decide.”

“Glutinous rice balls from the shop opposite High School Street.”

“Miss Jiang, how many times have you eaten there? Aren’t you tired of it yet?”

“Never.”

The two of them were just like in high school. Taking advantage of the nightfall and risking a severe beating from Jiang’s military father, Su Wen greeted Jiang Menghan downstairs at her apartment. Then, as the early autumn leaves of the phoenix tree scattered across the street corner, they went to their familiar shop and ordered some affordable handmade desserts, plus a steaming roasted sweet potato.

Back then, it seemed to have been that same shop.

Time passed swiftly.

Su Wen’s identity as a supernatural had only circulated briefly within a small circle due to confidentiality regulations. Later, the buzz from the release of “The Nightwatcher, Waiting Quietly for the Dawn” and the promulgation of the Westminster “Equality Act” completely overshadowed it. He didn’t mind much. As long as there was no risk of death, Su Wen preferred to lie in bed and rest.

While scrolling through Twitter and Facebook, reading about Mrs. Smith’s dog breaking through to the first supernatural rank and racing around in a Ford, the countdown for the “Time-Space Traverse Game,” which had been dormant for ten days, suddenly began again:

“15 natural days remaining until the ‘player’s’ scheduled death.”

“Timer started.”

“Do you choose to start the game?”

He had no choice but to send Jiang Menghan a message:

“Please ask for leave for me. I can’t make it today.”

“Rest well,” was her simple and clear reply—no questions, no suspicion that he’d just overslept.

Su Wen liked this tacit understanding.

He opened his computer and prepared to start the game:

“Coastal Demolition Expert”

“Game Type: Simulation Construction”

“Real-Time Span: Eighteen days”

“Difficulty: Low”

“Background:

Time: Early Origin Era.

Location: East Asian coastal region, North Pacific shifting point.

Due to upwelling of deep-sea faults, a low-pressure tropical cyclone gradually formed into a hurricane moving toward the East Asian coast.

Despite the meteorological bureau’s increased warnings, the super typhoon “Aiyunni” unexpectedly altered its course due to psychic tidal shifts, engulfing the research vessel “Voyager” and releasing the ancient virus “Erophench—Type III,” which rapidly replicated genetic material unchecked.

This sets the stage for subsequent events: ‘Information Pollution,’ ‘Slumber in the Deep Sea,’ and the ‘Song of Death.’”

“Objectives:

One star: Construct the target building (four structures) using recycled materials while minimizing expenses.

Two stars: Reduce typhoon impact or timely rescue the Voyager (optional).

Three stars: Hidden objective.

Note: Achieving the minimum rating prevents the player’s real-world death.

Trial Ability: Basic modular construction (trial)

You have heard the message carried by the sea breeze.”

This game differed from previous adventure titles.

Su Wen’s screen first showed a roaring mechanical scrap yard.

But before he could start operating, a digital contract popped up:

“Please agree to the following terms:

I have no criminal record on Earth, the Moon, or Mars (ETR-03 border regulations also apply).

I am not a member of any unions or mutual aid societies or other illicit organizations.

I will complete a minimum of 16 hours of basic work daily with a positive spirit and abundant energy.

I can adapt to long-term exposure to high-decibel mechanical noise and ‘low-risk’ work environments.

Do you confirm joining Schlot Heavy Industries?”

What kind of sweatshop is this? Even the donkeys on a collective farm couldn’t endure this. Only a fool would agree.

Su Wen read the “friendly” prompts and decisively clicked “No.”

“Are you sure you want to give up?”

The background rumbled with the sound of wind turbines in the abandoned machinery recycling plant.

The death countdown on his screen seemed to be overlaid with a dusty gray filter.

Did they think a dramatic atmosphere would fool him?

After clicking the gray “No” button a dozen times to no avail, Su Wen realized he was truly stuck.

“Alright, you win.”

He clicked the “Confirm” button, which was three times larger than “No.”

“Congratulations, you have successfully been employed by Schlot Industries.”

“Please promptly begin your work as an abandoned machinery recycler.”

Reading those words, Su Wen raised his right hand before the screen in the internationally recognized gesture for ‘friendship.’

“Alright, Schlot Heavy Industries. Once I finish this game, get ready to face the righteous complaints from the people.”