The journey was uneventful. After purchasing a backpack, Su Jin read through the documents Fu Qingdai had given him while riding a taxi to the outskirts of the Talent Community.
There were no high walls encircling the complex; from the roadside, he could clearly see the weathered six-story buildings within, each cloaked in a uniform shade of dusty grey.
The buildings were not tightly packed, but time had etched its presence into them—blackened cracks ran like veins along their facades.
Aside from the obvious age, there was little else remarkable. Fortunately, the building numbers were clearly marked.
Fu Qingdai lived in Building No. 7, which Su Jin could spot from outside the entrance.
He didn't rush in. Instead, he took out the hand-drawn map Fu Qingdai had provided and began to circle the complex.
It took him nearly half an hour to complete his loop and return to the entrance.
Fu Qingdai, meticulous as ever, had drafted the map with evident care—each line drawn against a ruler, each landmark rendered to scale. Local grocery stores, print shops, and other amenities were all marked with impressive accuracy.
Clearly, there was no need for him to conduct further research on the area.
Stepping into the community, he noted that there were no access gates; the security post at the entrance was more ceremonial than functional.
Standing beneath the second unit of Building No. 7, a foul stench of kitchen waste greeted him.
Beside the main entrance was a square hole roughly forty centimeters wide. Bits of food scraps, oily residue, and plastic bags had been discarded around it.
A low concrete wall stood to the side, separating the building's entry from the refuse chute.
He recognized this design from his childhood—the old garbage shaft system.
Each apartment had a corresponding disposal hatch, allowing residents to throw their waste directly down from the hallway.
Of course, the smell and frequent clogs made it obsolete in modern housing—only a few aging buildings still retained such a feature.
In front of the building stood an ancient tree, its bark twisted with age.
Su Jin strode toward it, circling its base. Sure enough, near the roots, a faded red mark was still visible.
This had to be the place Fu Qingdai had buried the money.
After a quick glance around to confirm he was unobserved, Su Jin pulled on gloves and began to dig.
About ten centimeters down, the edge of a rusted biscuit tin emerged from the soil.
He retrieved it and opened the lid. Inside were bundles of tattered bills and a scattering of coins.
There was no time to count, but his heart brimmed with admiration for Fu Qingdai's foresight once again.
Swiftly repacking the tin, he refilled the hole with a few kicks of dirt.
Then, eyes scanning the glass windows above, a flicker of excitement lit his face.
Fu Qingdai lived on the fifth floor. On both the second and fifth levels, "For Rent" signs with phone numbers were taped to windows.
If fortune favored him, he might end up renting the apartment directly opposite hers—an ideal arrangement for future coordination.
No time like the present.
He committed the numbers to memory, scanned his surroundings, and spotted a middle-aged woman nearby. Without hesitation, he approached.
"Sis, mind if I borrow your phone? Mine's out of battery."
…
Thirty minutes later, on the fifth floor.
A middle-aged man in a grey short-sleeved shirt unlocked the door as Su Jin stood just behind him.
"You've got a good eye, kid," the man remarked. "Don't let the old exterior fool you—these buildings were originally allocated to respected folks during the work unit days. Professors, cadres, veterans—you name it."
He pushed open the door and gestured inside. "Take old Fu across the hall, and the security guard downstairs, Xiao Cheng—he's ex-military. Sure, it ain't fancy, but it's peaceful and comfortable living."
"My son used to live here on the floor below. If he hadn't begged me to move out, I wouldn't have left. I've kept the place in great shape—have a look around."
"You've raised a fine son—filial and successful. If I had that kind of fortune, my parents would be over the moon. Bet a lot of folks envy you."
"Hah! Not bad, not bad. And you're not too shabby yourself, young man." The landlord grinned, clearly pleased.
Su Jin said little else, beginning his inspection of the apartment room by room.
Two bedrooms, a living area, a bathroom, and a kitchen. No electrical appliances or flush toilet, but all essential furniture was in place. It was about seventy square meters, more or less.
The landlord followed him, continuing his pitch: "Most of the basics are here—you'll be fine day-to-day. For cooking, there's a gas station just outside the complex. Buy a cylinder for sixty-one, hundred for the deposit. Morning market's just a street away… So? What do you think?"
They came to a stop in the living room.
"Not bad. How much per month?" Su Jin asked plainly.
"Five hundred. And since you seem like a decent guy, I'll only ask for one month's deposit."
"Sounds fair," Su Jin replied, then paused and shifted the topic. "Big brother, you mentioned your son used to live downstairs. Is that place still vacant?"
"Yeah, it's empty. He never rented it out, just left it sitting."
"Would he consider renting it now?"
"Huh?" The man blinked, then nodded slowly. "Same layout as this one. If you want it, I can talk to him. But how many people are you planning to house?"
Su Jin pondered briefly. "To be honest, big brother, I'm from out of town, looking for work here in Longshan. This unit's just for me. But I've got a friend—a girl—who's planning to come, too. Thought I'd arrange a place for her in advance, show some initiative, you know? I promise—one person per unit, no funny business."
"Ah, trying to win her heart, are you?" the landlord chuckled. "Alright, I get it. No problem!"
Su Jin grinned sheepishly, then added, "But there's just one more thing... I've only just arrived, and renting two places at once is a bit tight financially. My friend's coming in a few days, and I've got some expenses coming up."
"I'll pay you the first month's rent for both places upfront. As for the deposit, I'll settle it in two weeks. We'll put that in the contract. When you come by to check next time, if anything's been trashed or misused, don't even bother giving it back—just throw me out. Deal?"
The man hesitated briefly, then clapped Su Jin's shoulder with a hearty laugh. "You're a straightforward kid. This sort of thing—big bro won't stand in the way of romance! Deal!"
…
An hour later, inside the quiet rental unit, Su Jin stood alone by the window, chewing on an unidentifiable bitter leaf, his gaze lost in the fading light.
The sun was setting. Golden rays poured across the city, casting everything in a warm, honeyed glow.
In just a day, he had left his home, crossed into a foreign world, been committed to a psychiatric facility, and somehow ended up renting not one but two apartments—he'd found shelter.
While outside, adrenaline and logic had numbed the chaos and fear gnawing inside him.
But now, alone, in a space of his own, with his body relaxed and his defenses lowered—it all felt like a dream. A painfully vivid dream.
Leaning forward, he rested his forehead against the cool glass and exhaled a long, weary sigh.
The bitterness in his mouth grew stronger, and with it came the flood of buried fear and uncertainty.
A forced assignment. A looming apocalypse.
How had he ended up here?
How had the world ended?
Why had it happened to him?
He was just an ordinary man. He hadn't asked for any of this.
Pressing a trembling hand against his chest, Su Jin felt the chaos swell within.