Chapter 100: Bread and Freedom (Part 2)

Snowflakes drifted down, the cold wind blowing sharply.

At some point, a light snow had begun to fall on the island.

The fine, crystalline snowflakes settled on the ground, covering the entire world as if wrapping it in a cotton-padded jacket.

People who had just finished work hurried along beneath their umbrellas, the streets gradually emptying.

The traffic lights changed monotonously between red and green.

Inside the shops, crowds came and went, bustling and lively, with tempting aromas of meals and various fast foods wafting out.

Xu Yinsheng couldn’t help but swallow her saliva.

She hugged her knees, shrank her neck, curling herself into a ball in an attempt to get some sleep.

Cold and miserable.

Right now, she didn’t even have a place to sleep.

Xu Yinsheng felt utterly wretched.

First, her palate had been forcibly altered by some god she didn’t even know.

Then, she was roughly assaulted by a “good brother” dressed in overalls who had been raised on the streets.

She barely escaped and, just as she was preparing to meet her parents, a thief stole all her belongings.

The local police were inefficient and hostile toward foreigners.

Originally, she still planned to use her charm, “Charming Liao’s Eyes,” to seduce a few small-time thugs and rob the rich to feed the poor while padding her own pockets.

But the locals all had sunglasses, and when she tried to gather information, customs and habits were obstacles.

Xu Yinsheng lowered her head.

Perhaps she shouldn’t have run away at all…

Chen Kedi was right.

For parasitic classes like them, all their confidence and power came from golden swords.

Without money, they were nothing, not worth anything.

Would she die here?

Xu Yinsheng hugged herself tightly.

Die here.

Like a cat without feet, weightless, freezing and starving to death on the street corner.

No one would know.

She bit the corner of her lip, her eyes slightly reddening.

She wanted to cry, but the tears wouldn’t come.

She wanted to curse Zhao Yicheng, to blame him for everything, to push all the responsibility onto him—that would make her feel better inside, just like she always did.

But… a tear slid down her cold, pale cheek and landed in her mouth…

Salty and bitter.

She didn’t cry out loud, just bit her lips and held it in.

“Snow team, snow team, that’s enough, enough. The snow is gradually tapering off. Half a quarter of an hour more, then it’ll stop.”

“Less foot traffic entering the fast-food restaurant, give the patients immersive self-reflection time.”

“Extras team, extras team, prepare yourselves. Remember, portray a compassionate mother and child. Memorize your lines.”

Inside the control room, Bai Yu wore a headset and held a walkie-talkie, coordinating the various small groups across the island.

Beside him, also serving as the “chief director,” Li Yuan leisurely sipped a cup of hot cocoa.

So-called immersive environmental therapy was nothing but a scam.

Thousands of extras on the island, countless costumes, countless pieces of filming equipment, and experts from all fields.

It was just some half-crazed, epileptic, and wealthy lunatic playing a game with his long-time sheltered pet.

This grand puppet show, the largest of its kind in the world, had only one role on stage—Xu Yinsheng.

The frontline staff’s work eased slightly, but the control room remained busy.

“Give me the patient’s info—education level, family situation, emotional history… the more detailed, the better. I need to build a psychological model. Without data, it’s hard to analyze her mental activity.”

“A rat chewed through the wires of the fast-food shop. Send maintenance immediately. The next scene is right in front of the fast-food shop.”

“The snow’s picking up. Quite a few extras have slipped and fallen. Dispatch cleaners to spread salt and sweep the snow.”

The control room buzzed with noise, full of various sounds.

The experts present might not have the best character, but when it came to getting paid, their efficiency was top-notch.

“Look, the second scene is starting!”

Someone called out, and everyone raised their heads in unison.

Their gaze fixed on the largest screen hanging in the control room.

The cold wind blew, snowflakes fell—much lighter than before.

The fast-food shop’s entrance saw a clear drop in foot traffic, where a pair of mother and child wearing sunglasses passed by.

“Mom, what is that?”

The little boy was dressed in a small suit, his face serious and stern, looking like a sticky rice ball.

He seemed to have noticed something.

Pointing at the red-haired woman with her head buried on the stage stairs, he turned to his mother and asked innocently, “Mom, did she freeze to death? Like in cartoons?”

Xu Yinsheng slightly raised her head, her eyes bloodshot but cold, casting a glance at the boy before silently lowering it again.

The boy was clearly startled, hiding behind his mother.

His mother patted his head, crouched down, and said to him, “Qing Ze, don’t say that about the sister. Go apologize to her now.”

“Okay.”

Under his mother’s comfort, the boy calmed down quickly.

He bowed deeply to Xu Yinsheng.

“Sorry, sister. I said the wrong thing just now.”

Xu Yinsheng lifted her head.

Her icy pale cheeks gave a faint smile.

“It’s okay.”

Hearing this, the boy seemed to think of something.

He pulled a coin from his pocket and placed it in Xu Yinsheng’s hand.

“Pretty sister, this is my pocket money for today. For you.”

“No…”

Xu Yinsheng was about to refuse, but at that moment, the boy’s mother came over, looked at the coin in Xu Yinsheng’s hand, and smiled slightly, signaling her to accept it.

Then she asked: “Miss, on such a cold day, why don’t you go home?”

“Home?”

Xu Yinsheng shook her head, her expression downcast.

“I don’t dare to go back, and I don’t want to.”

The boy’s mother seemed to understand something.

She patted Xu Yinsheng’s fragrant shoulder.

“People all have some attachments. Actually, no matter how unpleasant their words are, parents still love you.”

“There’s an old saying: ‘The tree longs for stillness but the wind never ceases; the child wishes to care, but the parent is no longer here.’”

“Miss, don’t let waiting become regret. Being a parent isn’t easy. No matter how much you argue, they’re among the few people in the world who truly love you.”

“Love me… people?”

Xu Yinsheng murmured softly.

“Yes, they love you, just in different ways.”

After the mother and child left, Xu Yinsheng opened her palm to reveal a cold five-yuan coin.

About ten meters to her left stood a red phone booth, with four yellow characters above it: “115 Yuan per Call.”

Calling her parents might connect—or might be met with customer service again, just like before.

After all, they only loved each other; their love was exclusive.

Calling Zhao Yicheng—she knew him, knew this good brother from her past.

The call would definitely connect.

Within half an hour, she could see him again.

But that would also expose her location.

She could eat, but her escape would end in failure.

On one side was hope—the freedom she needed.

The price of failure was death, frozen and unknown on the streets.

On the other was bread—the survival she needed.

What she would lose wasn’t much, only freedom.

Xu Yinsheng took the coin, numb, stood up, and stiffly walked toward the phone booth.

Strands of her long red hair were dusted with snowflakes, cascading down.

At the same time, in the main control room, everyone stared silently at that single, thin, fragile silhouette on the screen, even their breaths held carefully.

The second scene, the final chapter—bread or freedom.

The chapter, or perhaps the ending.

To risk life for freedom, like a footless bird chasing it; or to live just to live, since what she loses isn’t much—only freedom.

Most experts present had already seen through it.

This grand puppet show wasn’t “therapy” as the two chief directors claimed. It felt more like…

But no one spoke. No one gave any hints.

No one wanted to offend anyone, certainly not the money.

At that moment, Bai Yu took a sip of hot cocoa and looked at Li Yuan beside him.

“What kind of person do you think the chairman is?”

Li Yuan paused, cautiously glancing around, especially at the red-haired woman’s face on the screen.

He whispered: “Not human.”