Chapter Thirty-Six: Your Father Is Critically Ill

The bus arrived at Shanda University.

Zhou Yi jumped off quickly. By now, the snow was thick on the ground. He hurried to the gatehouse; without a phone number, finding someone really was exhausting.

An old man in uniform, warming himself by the stove, waved at him. Zhou Yi rushed inside, greeting him politely.

“Good afternoon, sir!”

“It’s class time now, young man. Who are you looking for?”

Zhou Yi deliberately put on a grave expression, sighing before he spoke.

“Sir, I’m Zhou Yi, a student from the Medical School. Here’s my student ID. I need to find He Yuntian from the Computer Science Department—he was my classmate in high school. I got a call from his family at noon; his father’s very ill, and they want him to come home as soon as possible. I haven’t been able to reach anyone in his dorm, so I had to come in person.”

He spoke with sincerity and courtesy, unlike most students—so much so that the old gatekeeper quickly put on his reading glasses and started flipping through the phone book beneath the glass on his desk.

“Don’t worry, I’ll look up a number for one of their faculty. You can tell them, and they’ll bring your friend out directly. That’ll save you the trouble of searching the campus.”

Zhou Yi nodded emphatically. “Thank you, sir. It really is urgent—his mother sounded like she was in tears. I’m afraid if we’re late, it’ll be too late to see his father.”

The old man sighed, but his hands moved swiftly.

“Ah, birth, aging, illness, death—who can control these things? It’s right to see him one last time. We all understand.”

Suddenly, he stopped searching and smiled, picking up the receiver and handing the phone to Zhou Yi.

“Found it. My hands don’t work so well—why don’t you dial? The extension is 4701.”

Even before the old man finished speaking, Zhou Yi had already dialed. The gatekeeper quickly set down his glasses, stood up straight, and took the phone.

Zhou Yi gave a quick reminder.

“He Yuntian, senior year, Computer Science Department.”

Soon, someone answered. The old man spoke cheerfully.

“Hello, this is the gatehouse. A young man is here looking for He Yuntian, senior in Computer Science. His father’s critically ill—they’ve already bought tickets and can’t reach him. Could you please ask him to come out right away with his things?”

Zhou Yi had no objection to the old man’s embellishments. After all, the effect was much better than anything he could have achieved on his own—the urgency of time, the understanding tone of an elder, all added up.

Sure enough, after only a brief pause, the person on the other end replied anxiously:

“All right, sir, I’ll find him right away. Please have your visitor wait a moment!”

“Thank you, thank you!” Zhou Yi bowed deeply to the old man, feeling a twinge of guilt. The gatekeeper was a kind soul who had put himself in Zhou Yi’s place, and it didn’t feel right to deceive someone like that.

The old man seemed quite pleased with himself, taking a sip of strong tea with a contented smile. He made room by the stove and gestured for Zhou Yi to come over.

“Don’t worry, campus is huge; it’ll take at least ten minutes for him to get here. Warm yourself by the fire, just be careful not to scorch your clothes.”

Zhou Yi didn’t move closer, but held his hands over the stove for a while. The sweet aroma of roasted sweet potatoes drifted from above. Zhou Yi’s stomach rumbled.

The old man got up, quickly wrapped four or five sweet potatoes in newspaper, and handed them to Zhou Yi.

When Zhou Yi hesitated, the old man glared at him.

“You came all this way at noon to deliver a message. You’re a good kid. It’s just sweet potatoes, nothing special. Take them; you’ll need something to eat on your journey.”

Zhou Yi couldn’t help but feel touched and bowed again. He really was hungry—his counterpart probably hadn’t eaten lunch to save money, and after all the exertion, Zhou Yi was feeling dizzy.

“Thank you so much, sir!”

Just then, a stout figure came jogging over, clearly exhausted from the distance but still determined.

Zhou Yi smiled at the old man.

“My friend’s here. Thank you again for everything!”

The old man waved him off, his face beaming with simple joy and a sense of accomplishment.

“Go on, and be careful on the road. Don’t rush!”

The chubby newcomer looked bewildered. He and Zhou Yi had arrived at the same time, but judging by Zhou Yi’s manner, he seemed unusually familiar with the gatekeeper, who had even arranged for his leave—albeit under the pretense of a father’s grave illness. It was a tactic many students used, often requiring verification.

As Zhou Yi tugged at his sleeve, the confused young man bowed along with him, wearing a dazed expression that suited the moment perfectly.

Zhou Yi pulled the chubby friend away, and together they hurried toward the bus stop.

Once there, Zhou Yi took out the sweet potatoes wrapped in newspaper, tossed one to his friend, and began eating as he spoke.

“Nothing unusual at your school, right? Any word on Cheng Zhi?”

The chubby one frowned and shook his head, biting into the sweet potato and mumbling through a full mouth.

“There are only three of us left in the dorm. Apparently, everyone else went to find internships early, but I have no idea where. I barely know my way around this world—can’t even get to a computer, let alone the internet. Some Computer Science department, what a joke.”

Watching his friend devour the sweet potato, Zhou Yi silently reached for a second one. Filling their stomachs was the priority.

Soon, all the sweet potatoes were gone. Zhou Yi wiped his mouth and looked over.

“We need a phone with color display to receive the target’s photo, but mine’s just a basic model—it can’t display images. Tracking also costs money. I have thirty yuan. What about you?”

His friend smacked his lips, sighed, and took out an Oxford cloth wallet, unfolding it for Zhou Yi to see.

“Five yuan—just five in cash. According to my roommates, my counterpart still owes them money. I haven’t even received my living expenses this month. But does this world even have internet-ready color phones?”

Zhou Yi nodded.

“Yes, but they’re expensive—five or six thousand yuan. We’ve only got a month, so we have to earn money fast. Otherwise, we won’t even survive, let alone complete the mission.”

His friend’s face fell. He spread his hands.

“What can you do? Heal people? I only know software design and internet stuff—useless here. We can’t exactly set up a street stall, can we? Or maybe I knock someone out and you treat them for a fee?”

Zhou Yi shook his head. Even starting a street stall would require capital—they didn’t even have enough for food, let alone inventory.

“We have to stick to this world’s rules. Those ‘awakened’ who got wiped out—it was because they disrupted the balance and couldn’t be punished by local law, right?”

His friend pulled his hat down, shivering after the sweet potatoes were gone, and edged closer to Zhou Yi with his hands in his pockets, back to the wind.

“I get all that. But the problem is, all we have is a name. To find someone, we need more information. To get that, we need a new kind of phone. To get a phone, we need money. Without counting debts, we have thirty-five yuan between us. How do we get money through legitimate means?

A month seems like a lot, but with prices like these, we couldn’t save enough in half a year, let alone one month. If the mission fails, I won’t be yours anymore!

For the sake of our friendship, you’d better come up with a way to make money. I have no intention of being public property!”