As soon as Cheng Jianning returned, he saw Song Nanxing bouncing around the reception room, while Li Shuangren—who had seemed so timid and mild earlier—was now clinging upside down to the ceiling, scuttling like an insect.
The multi-legged limbs between his ribs waved menacingly, and his gaping maw continuously sprayed yellow-green venom at Song Nanxing.
Dodging frantically, Song Nanxing tried to reason with him: “Mr. Li, calm down. We’re not going to force you to the hospital. The ceiling’s dangerous, you know—why don’t you come down first?”
Cheng Jianning gasped and hurried forward to help persuade him.
But Li Shuangren had clearly lost all rationality. He suddenly leapt down from the ceiling. His upper body stood tall, supported only by his hind legs and the grotesque limbs protruding from his ribs. His hands had already mutated into massive insectoid pincers.
The pincers snapped with a crisp clack-clack, and Li Shuangren’s blood-red compound eyes locked greedily onto Song Nanxing. Yellow-green saliva dripped from the corners of his mouth.
As Li Shuangren advanced, Song Nanxing retreated behind Cheng Jianning, reaching into his pants pocket to feel for the Swiss Army knife he kept for self-defense. In a whisper, he asked:
“What do we do now? This counts as self-defense, right? The company won’t blame us… will they?”
Cheng Jianning didn’t respond.
That’s when Song Nanxing noticed that the data cables entwined around Cheng Jianning’s limbs had begun to stir. They slithered out from his collar and sleeves, eager and twitching with anticipation.
“…,” Song Nanxing muttered, expressionless, as he slowly backed away, putting a column between himself and the others.
The moment he moved, Li Shuangren lunged in response. He let out a rasping hiss—“Hhhhhh!”—and pounced at Song Nanxing.
Song Nanxing was completely focused, his Swiss Army knife now fully unfolded and ready.
Li Shuangren’s mutation clearly resembled some kind of insect—the jaw, the pincers, the multiple legs—all deadly weapons. But after their prolonged confrontation, Song Nanxing had identified a weakness: his abdomen. From the ribs down, his body still retained human characteristics. It was soft, fleshy—vulnerable.
If he timed it right, a sharp enough blade could pierce that exposed human flesh.
Song Nanxing locked his eyes on the target, preparing to strike.
But unexpectedly, Cheng Jianning moved first.
Several thick data cables had already slithered in front of Li Shuangren. Before Li could react, the connectors at the ends of the cables shot forward—impaling his abdomen with precision.
Li Shuangren collapsed with a pained howl, his massive pincers and scuttling legs thrashing violently. Yellow-green fluids splattered everywhere, but it was useless.
Moments later, even his struggles weakened.
The cables still embedded in his stomach had begun to function like tubes—slowly and steadily siphoning flesh and blood from his body.
From behind the column, Song Nanxing watched Cheng Jianning.
Cheng Jianning was still wearing that white lab coat, now pockmarked with holes from the corrosion. His once-gentle face showed no trace of a smile—only a chilling inhuman coldness.
Li Shuangren’s body was soon drained to nothing but a hollow shell.
The now-sated data cables slowly retracted from his abdomen, curling back onto Cheng Jianning’s body. His lab coat was stained in blotches by the splattered venom.
And maybe it was just Song Nanxing’s imagination, but… Cheng Jianning looked a little rounder now.
Thinking back to when the man weighed 450 pounds, Song Nanxing suddenly understood how he had ballooned to that size in the first place. He held his breath, not daring to step out immediately.
Instead, Cheng Jianning stood there for a moment, then turned toward the column where Song Nanxing was hiding.
“It’s over. Are you hurt?” he asked.
Song Nanxing stepped out, eyeing him warily. Pointing to Li Shuangren’s body, he said uncertainly, “I think… he’s dead. I thought we were supposed to treat guests like gods?”
This felt more like sending a guest to meet God.
Cheng Jianning glanced at the empty husk of a corpse and frowned, looking more anxious than Song Nanxing himself.
“But he was out of control. This was self-defense… right?”
They looked at each other.
“…It should count as self-defense,” Song Nanxing replied, voice filled with doubt.
If you hadn’t sucked the guy completely dry.
“Will the company fire us?” he asked.
Cheng Jianning shook his head. “No way. They’re understaffed right now. But… we did violate employee regulations. The janitor lady is definitely gonna come after us.”
He grimaced—clearly more afraid of the janitor than HR.
As they walked out together, Cheng Jianning suddenly brightened, eyes sparkling. “I’ve got an idea!”
Song Nanxing shivered at the look he gave him, a bad feeling rising instantly. He deadpanned, “…What idea?”
“Company’s always a bit more forgiving to newcomers,” Cheng Jianning coaxed gently. “When I first started, I ran into a guest whose hat came off and—bam! Underneath was a fish head.”
Afraid Song Nanxing wouldn’t follow, he added, “Kind of like the cleaning lady.”
“Ohhh,” Song Nanxing murmured in realization. No wonder the cleaning lady’s face was so flat, with eyes spaced so far apart. Turns out she was a fish. He just wasn’t sure which species.
His mind flashed back to the employee who took Wu Huai’s notebook. That guy had gills on his cheeks too… Thinking about it now, the employees at Good Dreams all seemed to have some aquatic features in common.
Except Cheng Jianning.
Sure, Cheng Jianning was far from normal—but compared to the rest of the seafood department, he was practically human.
Cheng Jianning went on, “I was so scared back then I knocked the guest out with a chair. But since I was new and didn’t have experience, the company let it slide.”
He looked at Song Nanxing with a hopeful gleam. “So if we say you killed Li Shuangren, then neither of us will get in trouble!”
Song Nanxing: “…”
“Well, that’s a nice fantasy. But what if the company doesn’t let it slide?”
Cheng Jianning raised a hand like he was taking a solemn oath. “Then I’ll definitely protect you.”
Song Nanxing thought of how easily Cheng Jianning drained Li Shuangren dry and paused.
“…Not impossible, I guess.”
As soon as Cheng Jianning heard a glimmer of agreement, he turned into a loyal lackey, sticking close and looking ready to massage Song Nanxing’s shoulders. “If you’ve got any other requests, just say the word.”
“Everyone here’s a pain to deal with,” Song Nanxing replied. “So until I quit, if anyone bullies me—you’ve got my back.”
Cheng Jianning looked surprised by the simplicity of the demand. “That’s it?”
“You think that’s not enough?” Song Nanxing shot him a glance.
Cheng Jianning laughed, slinging an arm across his shoulder like they were old pals. “It’s enough, it’s enough. From now on, you’re my brother—I got you.”
Song Nanxing gave a small smile and let his eyes wander across the open office floor, searching for the puppet.
That puppet could move freely through the company, which meant it was no lightweight. If the cleaning lady actually came after him, he’d just bring the puppet along.
Of course, not being found would be even better.
But things weren’t nearly as simple as Cheng Jianning had made them sound. The moment they stepped out of the reception room, they saw the receptionist storming toward them, face dark as thunder.
She looked furious. From beneath her skin, countless tiny forked vines were sprouting. They were a burning shade of red, swaying gently with her movements—like flames dancing in the air.
“You’d better stay away from her. Be careful—those spikes hurt like hell.” Cheng Jianning whispered to Song Nanxing, warning him off.
“Oh,” Song Nanxing quickly replied and stepped behind Cheng Jianning without hesitation.
Cheng Jianning: “…”
He braced himself and faced the front desk girl, just about to open his mouth—But she beat him to it, her expression dark and ominous: “You two killed the guest.”
Cheng Jianning immediately waved his hands in protest. “He lost control first and attacked us! Song Nanxing was just acting in self-defense!“
The receptionist’s sharp gaze sliced toward Song Nanxing, her face growing even colder. “You killed him?”
Song Nanxing looked toward Cheng Jianning for help. Cheng Jianning was nervously blinking at him over and over.
“…I… I didn’t mean to…” He lowered his head, doing his best to appear small and harmless. “I was just really scared at the time…”
The receptionist stared him down for a long while before she finally spoke.
“According to company policy, harming a guest results in a one-week confinement. But since you’re a newcomer, I’ll reduce it to one day. Stay here. The janitor will come take you to the tool room.”
With that, she turned and returned to the front desk, furiously tapping at the keys of the landline, probably to call the janitor.
Song Nanxing shot a look of reproach at Cheng Jianning.
Cheng Jianning looked away guiltily and muttered, “Being locked up for one day isn’t a big deal… Someone else got locked up for three days and came out just fine. Totally unharmed…”
Song Nanxing just stared at him, silent.
Cheng Jianning fidgeted, twisting this way and that, and after a while—perhaps his conscience finally caught up with him—he said hesitantly, “W-Why don’t I go instead? I’ll tell her to punish me instead…”
Song Nanxing had already prepared his next move, and naturally wouldn’t let him go.
Cheng Jianning was familiar with the company. Compared to the other weird employees, he was normal—easy to talk to. He’d be a useful partner. And if he owed Song Nanxing a favor, it would be easier to ask him for help finding clues later.
Besides, Song Nanxing remembered what Cheng Jianning looked like after coming back from the doctor’s office. Something told him the tool room was not a place Cheng Jianning should visit again.
Song Nanxing sighed. “Forget it. I’ll go. That receptionist doesn’t look like she’s in the mood for negotiation. If she punishes you too, it wouldn’t be worth it.”
He winked at Cheng Jianning. “At least one of us gets to stay safe, right?”
Cheng Jianning looked at him with misty eyes, clearly moved. “I’ve never met anyone as kind as you…”
Song Nanxing patted him on the shoulder and graciously accepted the gratitude.
Cheng Jianning waited with Song Nanxing at the front desk for the cleaning lady, but even after office hours, she never showed up. The receptionist, on the other hand, had come and gone twice, seemingly unable to find anyone either.
Finally, when it hit the end of the workday, the receptionist looked at Song Nanxing with a sour face and said, “The cleaning lady’s not here. Lucky you—just go home for today.”
Cheng Jianning was even more thrilled than Song Nanxing, immediately pushing him toward the workstation, muttering nonstop, “Go, go, go—quick, before the cleaning lady comes back and you’re stuck again.”
Song Nanxing returned to his desk to grab his backpack, and Cheng Jianning all but shoved him to the elevator, his face full of sincerity as he urged, “Get home fast, okay? Stay safe on the way.”
His expression was animated and lively. If it weren’t for those tangled data cables wrapped around his body, he could almost pass for a normal person. Recalling that he’d once mentioned his grandmother, Song Nanxing suddenly asked, “Where do you live? Aren’t you going home?”
Cheng Jianning froze, then murmured, “I live in the company dorms. I can’t go home.”
Just as Song Nanxing was about to ask more, the elevator arrived. Cheng Jianning pushed him inside and smiled while waving goodbye.
The elevator slowly descended, arriving at the first floor. Song Nanxing looked up—the ceiling panel was painted black. At first glance, it resembled a gaping black hole above his head, casting a suffocating sense of gloom, as if something might crawl out of it at any moment.
He paused for a moment, then headed toward the parking garage to get his car.
Halfway there, he ran into the puppet.
It looked like the puppet had just finished a hunt—dragging behind it a corpse much larger than itself, of some unidentifiable species. Upon seeing Song Nanxing, it quickened its pace, its wooden feet tapping crisply against the concrete—da-da-da—as it presented the corpse like a prized offering, laying it proudly before him.
Song Nanxing: ?
He looked at the blood-soaked body and subtly sidestepped. “Thanks, but I’ll pass. You keep it for yourself.”
The puppet tilted its head, confused as it stared at the prey it had spent so long tracking down.
It was delicious.
“Why? You don’t like it?”
Shouldn’t reporting “suspected to be treating pollutants patients with no licensed nor real doctors” be enough to warrant the government’s suspicion?