Qin Siyang returned home, took a cold shower, and fell straight asleep.
Early the next morning, he ate some leftovers and hurried out the door.
"I skipped school on Friday to go to Safe Zone Exit 38324, so I didn't bring any food back from the cafeteria. Once again, I've got to worry about what to eat this weekend."
Still, he didn't dwell on the problem too much. He had a few copper coins in his pocket, after all—plenty left from the three muggers he'd taken down in the alley. Enough to scrape by for a meal or two, at the very least.
Naturally, he couldn't squander the money freely, either. For a poor orphaned student, eating street food two nights in a row over the weekend would be wildly out of character.
The streets were nearly empty on that early Saturday morning. Most jobs on the edge of the safe zone ran Monday through Friday, with weekends off, and since everyone here was destitute, weekends meant sleeping in late to save energy—skipping every meal they could to stretch their meager rations.
Every single copper coin saved was a small, humble joy, a tiny boost to their pitiful savings.
In this world, anyone who wasted energy wandering the streets on the weekend was considered a fool.
And Qin Siyang was clearly that fool.
He was tired of this life—of stepping out each day to see the same unchanging starry sky, walking the same potholed streets, passing the same dim streetlights. If it weren't for Wen Shu, a rare bright spot in this bleak place, everything about the edge of the safe zone would have felt like muck to him: disgusting to touch, foul to smell.
Even with her here, he could never resign himself to living in this dump forever.
Bide his time, lay low, and strike when the moment was right? He'd done exactly that in his past life, only to get laid off from his job and then beaten to death by thugs hired by his boss.
In this life, those four words had been erased from his vocabulary, tossed into the trash. He could stand holding his tongue for a little while, but endless patience? Forget it. He didn't have the luxury of it.
Today, he'd get this done with Qian Wendao.
Next week, he'd return to school as a registered Sequence Ability user.
As for Orlov?
He'd cross that bridge when he came to it. If push came to shove, killing him might not be such a bad solution after all.
Braving the bitter morning wind, Qin Siyang walked for over an hour and reached Safe Zone Exit 54320. It was a seven-bus-stop journey that would have taken him more than two hours before—but after his Sequence advancement, his steps were light and fast, his pace far quicker than any ordinary person's.
He made his way to the half-collapsed department store beside the exit. The building had split apart at the fourth and fifth floors, its upper half crumpled to one side—like a man with a broken neck.
"Funny," Qin Siyang thought, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "That's exactly how Kun Chenglong looked when I killed him. Head still on his shoulders, but his spine snapped clean through."
He stepped inside the building.
The plaster on the walls was peeling away in ragged chunks, twisted steel rebars jutted out from the concrete like gnarled tree roots. The stair railings were chipped and rusted, so grimy Qin Siyang didn't want to touch them at all. The floor was littered with dust-covered rubble, left undisturbed for who knew how long, and every step he took sent small bits of debris falling from the crumbling ceiling above.
Strangely, though, there were no cobwebs anywhere.
"Probably too cold here by the safe zone exit for even spiders to stick around," he mused.
He picked his way carefully past plaster and stone on the stairs, bounding up a dozen steps in just a few strides to reach the second floor.
And there, he found someone already waiting for him.
The man was sitting on a rickety chair with one leg broken, staring coldly at Qin Siyang as he appeared. He stood up at once, and the chair toppled over to the side, unbalanced by his movement.
Qin Siyang sized him up. He was of average height, dressed in a gray wool overcoat and black trousers, his feet clad in plain cloth shoes. His features were hidden beneath a wide-brimmed hat, so shadowed that even Qin Siyang's enhanced vision couldn't make them out clearly.
Not that it mattered. Qin Siyang's own face was hidden under the hood of his sweatshirt, and he was certain the man across from him couldn't see his, either.
But every move the man made exuded the poise and unshakable arrogance of someone who'd held power for a long time—an aura that simply couldn't be faked.
"You're early," Qin Siyang said, his tone light and casual. "We agreed on twelve, and it's not even eight thirty yet."
"So are you."
The two fell silent for a moment, letting the topic drop without another word.
Then the man spoke, introducing himself in a flat, unemotional voice: "Qian Wendao, Chief of the Information Department, Sequence Ability Administration Bureau."
"I know."
"For the sake of basic courtesy, you ought to introduce yourself too."
"No need to rush," Qin Siyang replied. "I need your help, so I'll give you my personal information—eventually."
He had no intention of handing over his details just yet. He intended to hold all the cards in this conversation, from start to finish.
"Fine. I'll forge your identity for you, you release my nephew, and I'll forget about the silver coin. No issues with this deal, right?" Qian Wendao said, cutting to the chase. "Once it's done, we go our separate ways and never cross paths again."
"That was the plan before."
"What do you mean 'before'? Have you changed your mind?"
"I think we might be able to work together more closely, Chief Qian."
"No need. Our association ends the second this deal is complete."
Qian Wendao had no interest whatsoever in Qin Siyang's proposal. He only wanted to get rid of this plague of a boy and retrieve his nephew as soon as possible.
But the more resistant Qian Wendao was, the more Qin Siyang was convinced he'd make an excellent partner. Cautious, powerful, and well-placed in the bureau—he could be an invaluable ally when push came to shove.
"Releasing your nephew is the price for forging my Sequence ability," Qin Siyang said, his tone shifting, sharpening. "But what about you, Chief Qian?"
"Me?"
"I still have that timed email set to send to all your colleagues at the Administration Bureau, remember?"
Qian Wendao let out a cold snort. "You think you'd dare report me after we make this deal? If I go down, you're going down with me!"
"Oh, in that case, allow me to introduce myself properly."
The corner of Qin Siyang's mouth curled upward into a faint, mocking smile. "Qin Siyang. Third-year senior at Ju'an School."
The moment the word "student" left Qin Siyang's mouth, Qian Wendao's jaw tightened, a flicker of anger seeping through his calm exterior. His head tilted slightly, a sharp, annoyed gesture.
"Do you think this is some kind of game? Toying with me like this—is it fun?"
Qian Wendao immediately decided Qin Siyang was lying through his teeth. Everyone knew Ju'an School had never produced a single Sequence Ability user in its entire history. Besides, how could a seventeen or eighteen-year-old high school senior possibly have such a sharp, calculating mind and such ruthless, unflinching tactics?
He scoffed inwardly, refusing to believe a single word of it.
Qin Siyang said nothing in response. He just reached up and pulled off his sweatshirt hood, revealing his young, still slightly boyish face—raw, unpolished, the face of a typical high school student.
"If you don't believe me," he said, his eyes glinting, "wait at the gate of Ju'an School Monday morning. See for yourself if I'm a student or not."