"My name is already known to you. For the remainder of our conversation, I expect you to be utterly candid, withholding nothing," Su Jin declared as he drew a notebook from his bag, lifting his gaze to meet Fu Qingdai's eyes. "Tell me about your daily life, your family relations, the conversations you've had with the company, and most importantly, why you find yourself in this psychiatric hospital."
Fu Qingdai propped her hands on her knees and responded earnestly, "I am not mentally ill; I was mistakenly sent here. I'm a student at Longshan High School, and my family consists only of my parents..."
Su Jin listened attentively, nodding continuously.
That she was not mentally ill came as a surprise, though evidently a welcome one.
From the details of her daily routine, it was clear that life here bore striking resemblance to Earth's, albeit in a more rudimentary state.
He had lived through a similar developmental phase in his youth; adaptation to this world would pose little difficulty, perhaps none at all.
When Fu Qingdai recounted her dreams, Su Jin's pen abruptly halted. "You mean to say that rain was the catalyst—that a violent downpour lasting five days led to madness, then to cannibalism, and the world descended into chaos?"
"Yes," she affirmed.
Su Jin's jaw clenched, his heart gripped as if by a vice.
He had braced himself for time travel and an impending apocalypse; a zombie outbreak was almost unsurprising.
But infection transmitted by rain?!
Contaminated water—an all-pervading menace.
Water was the most vital resource for survival; if it was compromised, could humanity endure?
"Cousin, are you alright?" Fu Qingdai's quiet inquiry broke through his daze.
Suppressing the turmoil within, Su Jin forced a smile. "I'm fine. Continue. What did the company say to you, and when did they notify you of my arrival?"
"I only learned recently that the company and you would appear," she replied.
"In my dream, a voice spoke of a 'Tiandao Company,' asking if I wished to live. I said yes, and then the contract was sealed, and someone would come to assist me. After that, silence... that's about it."
"Yes, that aligns with our company's protocol," Su Jin replied outwardly, though inwardly he cursed vehemently.
This was sheer coercion! Forcing the unwilling to sign—who wouldn't want to live? But must one sign a contract to do so?
He'd clicked a mouse once and been consigned to an interstellar labor dispatch.
Yet Fu Qingdai's account revealed contradictions: she'd known about his appearance days before, whereas he'd been recruited only hours ago.
Was this temporal discrepancy due to the time travel?
Did the company foresee the future, or was there a grand design at play?
The underlying truth was tangled beyond immediate comprehension, and Fu Qingdai's knowledge of the company was negligible.
Given these circumstances, failure to complete this mission would preclude any connection with the company.
In other words, success was imperative.
Suppressing a fresh curse, Su Jin resumed writing. "Let us proceed. When I finish questioning, you may speak."
"Alright," Fu Qingdai replied meekly.
"How many days remain before the rainstorm? Do you recall precisely?"
"Seven days from today—I'm certain."
"Seven days... In that time, whether you feign helplessness or act, will you be able to return home?"
"I don't know. I've said I want to go home, but my mother insists I stay here for treatment. She visits me every day, worried."
"Very well, skip that for now... Are there any rental homes near your residence? The closer, the better."
Her eyes brightened. "Yes! Several units in my building are for rent, their numbers posted on windows."
"Good. Now, continue with your daily life and tell me about your parents."
Ten minutes later, Su Jin paused his note-taking again.
He'd gleaned partial intelligence on the impending apocalypse and further insight into the world.
With only seven days remaining, acceleration was essential.
Fu Qingdai appeared sharp but woefully inexperienced socially.
Further probing into her personal life risked misleading him.
Setting his pen aside, Su Jin shifted tact. "How much does your family spend monthly? What are your parents' salaries?"
A question mark seemed to hover above her head as she hesitated, "About two thousand each... Our household expenses total around two thousand per month."
"Is this a society governed by law?"
"Of course—we have many laws."
"If trouble arises at work or school, do you seek connections or acquaintances?"
"Certainly—how else would one resolve matters?"
"I understand."
He paused, pen still. "Do you consider yourself pretty?"
"Well... of course."
"Do you think I'm handsome? How's my style?"
"Very handsome... and your clothes are nice, though you look rather hot."
"Are there video stores, markets, or internet cafés nearby?"
"The first two, yes, but I'm unsure about internet cafés."
"What is the molecular formula for water?"
"H₂O."
"Do you have a menstrual cycle? Do you use sanitary pads?"
Her cheeks flushed crimson.
"Answer quickly!"
"...Yes, I do."
After several more questions, Su Jin closed his notebook and pondered.
This society prized personal connections over legal rigor.
With the apocalypse imminent in seven days, five days of unrelenting rain, and emerging zombie-like threats, vulnerabilities abounded.
The extent of rainfall coverage was unknown, but violent factions within those zones likely faced swift collapse.
Military aid would be unreliable in the short term.
Molecularly, water was identical to Earth's and safe to drink; however, water pollution had extinguished any hope for survival outdoors.
With little time or resources to prepare shelters, and no possibility of forcibly removing Fu Qingdai, his options were limited.
Yet over seven thousand yuan in hand afforded considerable purchasing power—enough for rent and supplies near her home, an optimal arrangement.
Culturally and linguistically, Earth and this world shared much, allowing rapid assimilation.
He resolved to keep a low profile over the next week, avoiding legal trouble and conflict.
Beyond that, he would navigate on his own.
Suddenly, Su Jin realized a crucial issue.
He scribbled "H₂O" on paper, showing it to Fu Qingdai.
"Do you recognize this?"
"No."
"F*ck!"
"Why are you swearing at me?" Fu Qingdai blinked, bewildered. "I really don't understand this."
As expected.
Su Jin frowned deeply.
Though he could understand and speak the language, and others comprehended him, likely through the company's or mask's intervention, his written script was indecipherable here.
Requiring contracts for renting posed a significant problem if others couldn't read his writing.
He tore off another sheet and handed her a pen.
"Write two characters: 'Su' as in 'awaken,' and 'Jin' as in 'ember.' Write them boldly, stroke by stroke."
Though puzzled, Fu Qingdai complied obediently.
After examining her handwriting, Su Jin touched the back of the paper, feeling the raised ink.
Helplessness flooded him.
The characters matched her ID, yet visually appeared completely different.
The company's forced translation had glitches; the mask couldn't be removed, leaving him reliant on tactile recognition for his own name.
Resigned, he put away the signature paper. "That's all for now. Feel free to say anything you wish."
Nervously, Fu Qingdai nodded, then summoned courage to voice her doubt. "Cousin... are you an alien?"