By the time He Denghong dragged his exhausted body back to the apartment, it was nearly dusk.
He settled He Jiulu in a corner of the small room and collapsed onto the bed, trying to drive the lingering terror and synchronized pain from the previous night’s alley fight out of his mind.
The wound at the avatar’s severed wrist was still throbbing, a constant reminder of reality’s absurdity like background noise.
The next morning, he had to leave He Jiulu inside and head out alone to work a day job at a renovation site he had contacted earlier.
He Denghong pedaled a creaking, second-hand bicycle into a residential complex still under construction.
The air was thick with the smell of cement dust and paint—a familiar, slightly bitter scent of struggling to make a living.
He locked his bike to a temporary fence, took a deep breath, and walked toward the unit where the plumbing and electrical work were being redone.
Foreman Zhang was squatting at the door looking at blueprints. Seeing him, he tilted his chin. “You’re here? There, inside. First, clear that pile of construction waste from the trenching to the designated spot downstairs. The bags and wheelbarrow are on the balcony.”
“Yes, all right, Brother Zhang,” He Denghong replied, trying to look as experienced as possible.
He changed into a pair of old, faded rubber shoes and put on thick string gloves.
The deafening roar of electric picks filled the room as several workers busied themselves.
He Denghong bowed his head and began packing broken bricks, cement chunks, and debris into fiber bags.
The bags were heavy, and dust billowed in his face, making him cough.
“Hey, who’s this? Looks familiar,” a slightly gravelly voice sounded, laced with obvious mockery.
He Denghong looked up. It was Li Qiang, whom he had met once during a short-term project, along with two other workers who looked unfamiliar but were clearly close with Li Qiang.
Li Qiang nudged the person next to him. “Hey, guys, know this one? It’s that one from last time, the high schooler!”
He emphasized the words “high schooler” with heavy sarcasm.
Another man with a shaved head squinted at He Denghong’s dust-covered face and ill-fitting old clothes, scoffing.
“Him? A high schooler? Don’t joke. Do high schoolers look like this? I bet he ran away before finishing school.”
He Denghong paused for a moment but said nothing, continuing to bend over and move the bags.
He didn’t want to cause trouble; he desperately needed this day job.
Seeing no retort, Li Qiang grew bolder and stepped forward, nearly blocking He Denghong’s path.
“What, did I say something wrong? Didn’t you tell me you were eighteen and came out to ‘make it’ without a high school diploma? A freelancer — hah, that sounds nice. Isn’t that just working odd jobs everywhere and not knowing where your next meal is coming from?”
The shaved-headed man and the others burst into laughter. “A freelancer? Moving bricks freely? Even college students are ashamed to move bricks, yet here you are, rushing to sell your labor before even finishing high school?”
Li Qiang’s words were biting, filled with a condescending sense of superiority, as if being an “old hand” naturally made him superior to He Denghong.
“Is it because your brain isn’t good enough to keep studying? Can you only do this kind of mindless work?”
He Denghong felt his cheeks burn as blood rushed to his head.
He gripped the fiber bag tightly, his knuckles turning white from the force.
But he only said in a low voice, “Brother Qiang, let me through. I need to clear this trash out.”
Instead of moving, Li Qiang kicked the bag He Denghong had just sealed, kicking up a cloud of dust.
“What’s the rush? Tell us, how much can a freelancer earn in a day? Is it enough for a good pack of cigarettes? Oh, wait, you probably only smoke the cheapest kind, don’t you?”
The laughter grew louder, cutting through the noise of the construction site.
They treated him as a bit of entertainment in their dull labor, a target they could ridicule at will to assert their own presence, even if they were just as lowly.
He Denghong lowered his eyes, looking at the tips of his worn rubber shoes, which were also covered in dust.
He didn’t look at Li Qiang or the others again. He simply used his shoulder to nudge a gap open and silently, with great effort, dragged the heavy bag toward the wheelbarrow.
His silhouette was thin, but amidst the laughter, a stubborn silence tightened around him.
That silence hurt more than any retort because he truly couldn’t argue.
Eighteen years old, a high school dropout, and a freelancer — in this place and time, these labels had become the funniest joke to his coworkers and heavy stones crushing his dignity.
***
During the lunch break, he sat on a bag of building materials, gnawing on a cold bun when his phone vibrated.
It was a message from the Red Crow Rabbit, the tone as irritating as ever:
“Goo-chi! Break time is over! An ‘Anomaly’ has appeared. Autonomous type, serial number pending, specific hazard level: **Village (approximate)**. Go recover it quickly and get familiar with the process. Address: **[Location Link]**.”
He Denghong stared at the screen, his fingers stiff.
Recover some damn Anomaly? He could almost imagine the foreman’s angry face if he was caught skipping out and the resulting loss of half a day’s wages.
The pressure of survival weighed heavily on his shoulders, more real than the fate of any universe.
He took a deep breath and tapped out a reply: “No time. Have to work.”
Just as the message was sent, a sudden change occurred.
The core inside him jolted violently as a cold, massive torrent of power erupted without warning, instantly shattering his conscious defenses.
His vision suddenly distorted and pulled away — it was as if he were being violently yanked out of his own body and thrown into a tunnel of blinding light.
“Ugh — !”
He let out a silent scream, feeling his perception, thoughts, and everything being forcibly extracted and cast toward another focal point.
The next second, the world spun.
He “opened” his eyes to see the familiar ceiling cracks of his apartment.
But the perspective was wrong; it was too low.
He moved his hand and lifted He Jiulu’s right hand—healed but still youthful. He had been completely shoved into the avatar’s body.
The sensation of his original body collapsed on the bags of materials vanished entirely, severed by force.
Only the avatar’s sharp senses received external information: the smell of dust in the room, the distant sound of traffic outside…
“Goo-chi-chi-chi!” The Red Crow Rabbit’s voice echoed directly in He Jiulu’s mind, laced with malicious delight.
“Not going to work? Fine. But I have to make sure my Eshu doesn’t get too lazy. I’ll give you one hour. Finish that Anomaly before the construction break ends, or…”
“Heh, your original body might really ‘sleep’ at the construction site until you’re fired.”
He Jiulu sat up abruptly, the hem of the military skirt brushing the floor.
A cold fury mixed with a profound sense of helplessness swept over him. He had been kidnapped by his own other body.
He tried to struggle, tried to sense his original body again, but the massive ‘Element’ injected by the Red Crow Rabbit was like a thick wall, isolating everything. He was He Jiulu now.