Lost in the Otherworld

The three lifted the blue cloth and stepped out of the arcade.

Wu Dahai reached out and pulled down the shutter, "Old Huang, don’t blame me, I’m just a worker in the organization. The rules are set by the big shots."

At this moment, Qingling was standing silently by the roadside.

"Qingling? Or Qingling?" Gaoyang asked cautiously.

"Qingling," she turned to glance at him. "Did you win?"

"I won," Gaoyang gave a bitter smile. "But that was just a warm-up. There’s a second test."

Qingling seemed unsurprised, "I thought as much."

"So I was the naive one, thinking winning the game was enough?" Officer Huang sounded a bit wounded.

"In truth, your gaming skills didn’t matter. I was testing your patience, while also observing your character. In our organization, strength isn’t the only measure," Wu Dahai said proudly, rubbing his nose.

"Since we’ve passed the character test, is the next challenge about strength?" Gaoyang inquired.

"Of course. Our organization doesn’t take just anyone. Those with talent sequence numbers outside the top 100 are immediately dismissed."

Gaoyang’s heart sank. "Isn’t that me?" He thought. It seemed like he would have to bluff his way through. If worst came to worst, he could let Qingling and Officer Huang join first. After all, he could continue to idle for luck points and eventually unlock new abilities.

"Can I take this?" A raspy voice interrupted from not far away.

Gaoyang glanced over and saw an old man, hunched over in tattered clothes, carrying a filthy trash basket and holding a rusty pair of tongs.

The old man was standing by Officer Huang’s police car, pointing with the tongs at an empty soda can on the hood. "If you don’t want this, can I have it?" the old man asked again.

"Oh sure, no problem," Officer Huang walked over with enthusiasm, drained the last bit of soda, crushed the can with his hand, and tossed it into the old man’s basket.

"Heh, young folks sure have strength," the old man’s wrinkled face beamed with a serene smile.

"Of course! Graduated from the police academy, I practice every day," Officer Huang pulled a pack of cigarettes from his chest pocket. "Want one, old man?"

"Sure," the old man’s cloudy eyes lit up briefly.

Officer Huang deftly placed a cigarette in the old man’s mouth, then lit it with a lighter.

"Ah… good," the old man took a deep drag, clearly enjoying it, then slowly turned and walked away without a word of thanks.

The four watched the old man’s retreating figure.

"At that age, still picking through garbage, that’s tough," Officer Huang said sympathetically.

"If you’d known Zhang Da back when he was young, you wouldn’t think so," Wu Dahai sneered. "I grew up around here, and back then, every kid on this street was terrified of him."

"Really?"

"Zhang Da was a butcher, vicious as they come. He always resented his wife for not giving him a son, so he beat her constantly—sent her to the hospital more than once. Eventually, his wife couldn’t take it anymore and committed suicide by drinking pesticide. She waited until after their daughter finished her college entrance exams because she didn’t want to affect her performance."

The three fell silent.

"After his daughter went off to college, she cut all ties with him and never came back. With his wife gone, Zhang Da’s life fell apart. He stopped butchering, started drinking heavily, and ended up ruining himself. He even got into gambling and lost the house. Now he just lives off welfare and scavenges for trash."

Wu Dahai’s usual carefree demeanor shifted into something deeper. "Zhang Da has lived his whole life, and now, though he seems the least human, ironically, he’s the most like one."

Then Wu Dahai let out a cold chuckle, "Of course, he's still a beast."

"Lower your voice," Officer Huang warned, "He hasn’t gone far. He’ll hear you."