Five days remained until the end of the world.
Another sunset, seven o'clock in the evening.
Su Jin returned to the rental apartment with a backpack slung over his shoulder. His clothing had been replaced with a locally purchased tank top and a pair of oversized shorts.
Today had been immensely fruitful.
He had spent half the day in a bookstore, speed-reading a number of encyclopedias through quantum reading, significantly deepening his understanding of this world.
The other half of the day had been devoted to scouting key locations, researching market prices, drafting cost estimates, and forging rapport with the neighborhood security guard.
After meticulous calculations, his money—though barely sufficient—would just cover the expenses. Of course, all resources had been accounted for in a super-saturated plan.
Strictly speaking, if it were just about food, the stockpile could feed a family of four for several months.
If not for the need to purchase a variety of functional supplies, the current funds would have easily sustained food for over two years.
Its purchasing power was truly impressive.
Upon returning home, he immediately set down his backpack, pulling from it a small handbag.
From within, he retrieved a notebook, followed by two plastic bags.
One contained rice, the other a simple stir-fry of sliced meat.
Having survived on greens the night before with no ill effect, he had grown bolder and decided to order a meat dish from a small eatery nearby.
The flavor had been decent, and the availability of real rice and chopsticks had been a delightful surprise.
As for the food on the table now—it was the leftovers he had packed to go.
With one hand flipping open his notebook and the other unwrapping the bags, Su Jin paused when a gentle warmth touched his fingers.
Startled by the lingering heat, he stared at the food in momentary astonishment.
He'd read countless novels where storage rings preserved food indefinitely, suspending it in timeless stasis.
But witnessing such a phenomenon firsthand—with the food still warm—felt nothing short of miraculous… Was this not tantamount to stopping time itself?
And to think those time-freeze abilities in novels had seemed so cheap, so ubiquitous.
Yet here the rice and meat looked as fresh as when first purchased—this meant there was no need to worry about spoilage when storing supplies from home.
After opening the bags, Su Jin picked up a chopstick-full of rice and brought it to his mouth.
After two chews, a subtle shift crossed his expression. He followed it with a bite of the meat.
No... this wasn't true stasis.
The temperature remained, but the rice had slightly hardened, and the flavor of the meat had subtly changed.
This storage space appeared to be thermally insulated, yet molecular activity still continued.
He couldn't tell whether microbes or bacteria could survive in it—he would need a petri dish to conduct a proper test.
Which meant… even magical pills stored in a spatial ring would eventually expire!
But what was the principle behind this space?
Su Jin gave himself a light slap on the forehead and chuckled wryly.
Why bother overthinking it? Using science to rationalize metaphysics was itself unscientific.
Nothing had followed the rules since he arrived here!
Yet the thought left a bitter taste. He had spent half a lifetime immersed in science and had never learned to believe in anything else. What was left to trust?
Certainly not the teachings of ancient sages—after all, they hadn't even managed to solve hunger.
Shaking off his doubts, Su Jin began organizing his notes while eating.
Halfway through, a knock sounded at the door.
Su Jin jolted upright, set down his chopsticks, and in three quick strides reached the entrance.
Peeking through the peephole, he saw—it was Fu Qingdai.
She stood anxiously at the door, alone.
Su Jin swung the door open and pulled her inside with a swift motion.
Startled, Fu Qingdai gave a small yelp, but calmed quickly upon recognizing his face.
"I'm out, cousin," she said nervously.
"Well done! When did you get out? Was it difficult?" Su Jin asked, his voice laced with surprise and relief.
"This... this afternoon. I got home around noon. My mom just left for work," Fu Qingdai replied, eyes cast downward. "It wasn't hard. I don't know what got into that nurse—she kept vouching for me. Oh, and she told me in private that I still need rest. She asked you to call her and report my condition."
Su Jin nodded and led her toward the dining table.
"Come, sit. Let's talk."
"Mhm..." Fu Qingdai murmured, perching timidly on the edge of the chair.
"Cousin, what do we do next?"
Su Jin stood, fetched a glass of tap water from the kitchen, and placed it before her.
"From now on, most matters are on me. As for you, just do what I say, when I say it. But before anything else, we must establish three rules. You must remember them. Do you know what 'three rules' means?"
"I do… Go ahead, cousin."
"Good. First, never act on impulse. Second, never withhold even the smallest detail from me. Third, whatever task I assign to you, you must complete it cleanly and flawlessly. Can you do that?"
"I can!" Fu Qingdai lifted her head and finally met his gaze.
"Excellent! That's the spirit." Su Jin gave her a thumbs-up. "You're clever—I can see that. And I believe you'll succeed."
"There will be tasks later, but in truth, there's only one thing I need from you: absolute trust. I know you're still unsure, but I'm not exaggerating when I say—I don't ask clients to judge me by my success rate. Judge me by my failures, because I have none."
"Really, cousin?!" Fu Qingdai's eyes lit up, hope gleaming within them.
"Of course. Trisolarans lie—we Namekians prefer the truth."
"Trisolarans are so mean!"
"Exactly!"
Seeing her mood lighten warmed Su Jin's heart as well.
Since this mission could no longer be avoided, professionalism was paramount.
He had to keep his own mind sharp—and care for the mental wellbeing of his young 'client.'
"Cousin… what do you need me to do first?" Fu Qingdai asked.
"Hmm…" Su Jin was about to reply when his gaze drifted to a power outlet in the corner.
He suddenly remembered—he'd gone the entire day without checking the electricity. Although he had brought two power banks, they would only last so long.
His phone would be essential—not just now, but in days to come.
The socket had two holes. The charger could fit, but he hadn't dared to plug it in, worried about frying the device. Now was the perfect time to ask.
"Let me ask you something—what's the voltage of this outlet?"
"Two hundred and twenty volts."
"Do you have a scientist named Volt?"
"No… The unit is named after our physicist Li Songxi."
"So what's the name of the unit?"
"It's called the volt."
"Of course it is."
Su Jin was momentarily speechless, marveling at how absurdly powerful the company's translation system was—culturally adaptive and seamlessly localized… though no one else could decipher his handwriting.
Still, that was irrelevant. The phone should charge normally. He'd test it with the power bank first.
220V matched most countries on Earth—likely no coincidence.
It must be a balanced choice between efficiency and cost.
Which meant science still worked—and his knowledge remained useful.
"What's wrong, cousin?" Fu Qingdai asked curiously.
Su Jin shook his head, pulling out another notebook. "Nothing. Now, tell me about your parents—every detail, no errors. This will determine whether we can openly maintain contact. If done right, I'll be able to visit your home freely and better assist your family. Let's begin."
Fu Qingdai nodded but hesitated. "Cousin… after I finish, can you tell me about Namek?"
"Of course. But you go first."
...
An hour later.
"Cousin, that's everything I know," Fu Qingdai said, gripping her empty glass. "Anything else?"
Su Jin closed the notebook. "No further questions. Tomorrow I'll visit your home. You have two tasks."
"What tasks?"
"Get your mom to cook a few rich dishes. And steal me another two thousand yuan."