The residence of Tian Shu was located in the suburbs of S City, a three-story building situated on the edge of a villa area, far from the hustle and bustle. Considering the skyrocketing land prices in S City in recent years, it must have been quite expensive, a quiet, tasteful white house with appropriate decoration and renovation—
If it weren’t for the sign “Extrascientific Lab” hanging at its entrance.
“Extrascientific… a super-scientific laboratory?” Lin Huai squinted at the sign. “I feel like I’m going to see something like Frankenstein’s monster inside… What kind of chuunibyou would create something that looks like a theme café…”
Despite these thoughts, he still approached the villa’s entrance. The mahogany door was embedded with a display screen, accompanied by a camera and speakers. As he stood before the door, the infrared sensor triggered a synthesized mechanical voice: “Welcome to the Extrascientific Lab. Please select your purpose on the display screen. Press ‘1’ for deliveries, ‘2’ for takeout, ‘3’ for monetary donations, ‘4’ for other fee collections…”
Lin Huai: …
He pressed ‘1,’ and the speaker responded, “Please leave the package by the door. Thank you.”
He pressed ‘2,’ and the same voice replied, “Please place the takeout in the basket. Thank you.”
He looked up and saw a basket hanging from the second-floor window, lowered by a fixed pulley system. A pressure sensor-driven motor would lift the basket up when weight was detected and lower it once empty.
Determined, Lin Huai pressed ‘3.’ The speaker said, “We do not accept cash transactions in person. Only online electronic transfers are supported. E-commerce is everyone’s responsibility. There’s no need to discuss this in person.”
Lin Huai: …
He went through each button, receiving different (yet equally absurd) responses. It seemed the owner of the house was an astonishingly lazy and eccentric individual who had automated responses for every possible daily nuisance.
Lin Huai rang the doorbell twice, but there was no response. He then circled the villa, only to find all windows covered with thick curtains, obscuring the interior.
Finally, he returned to the door and, following the information provided by Qin Jiang, dialed Tian Shu’s number.
After ten rings, the call was finally answered. A deep, pleasant voice, tinged with the hoarseness and lethargy of someone just waking up, came through: “Please leave the takeout downstairs—”
“I’m not here for takeout,” Lin Huai said. “I’m the temporary editor here to collect your manuscript.”
There was a pause on the other end, followed by, “Oh, I’ve unlocked the door for you. Push it open and come in. I’m on the second floor. Take the stairs up and don’t touch anything on the way.”
As soon as the words were spoken, the door emitted a crisp mechanical click. Lin Huai, still holding the phone, twisted the door open. “You haven’t told me where on the second floor you are—”
“The study.”
“Speaking of which, this voice sounds so familiar…” Lin Huai thought, stroking his chin. “I feel like I’ve heard it somewhere… Where have I heard it? Such an eccentric person should be memorable.”
He racked his brain but couldn’t recall any specific details.
The first floor of the villa was pitch dark. Lin Huai fumbled for the light switch, and the entire first floor’s layout came into view.
The interior was minimalist and orderly, dominated by black, white, and gray tones. Aside from an oversized TV screen and several computers, there was little else of note. The most striking feature was a massive refrigerator and freezer in the living room, making one wonder what strange things might be stored inside. To the left of the living room was a long staircase leading to the second floor and the basement. At the top of the stairs was a metal door separating the second floor from the first.
“For some reason, I feel like I’ve entered another game instance…” Lin Huai thought as he ascended the stairs. Upon reaching the top, he knocked on the metal door.
The door wasn’t locked. With a bit of force, it opened.
The first thing he saw was the second-floor living room. There was no TV, only a massive projection screen and a hanging projector. The room was filled with a plush carpet perfect for rolling around on and a couch that seemed designed for sinking into. All the shelves were packed with various DVDs, tapes, and other audiovisual materials. Lin Huai curiously examined them, noticing they were organized alphabetically, mostly horror, mystery, and fantasy films.
There were several rooms on the second floor, labeled ambiguously with words like “Storage” and “Darkroom.” The largest room bore a sign that read “Laboratory.” Across from it, a room labeled “Study” emitted a faint glow.
The characters for “Study” were written in a flowing, elegant calligraphy, exuding a scholarly charm—except—
“So ugly,” Lin Huai mercilessly criticized.
He knocked on the door, but the person inside seemed oblivious, likely engrossed in writing or programming. Lin Huai cleared his throat and coughed, “Teacher Tian Shu, I’m here.”
Still no response. Lin Huai had no choice but to enter uninvited. As soon as he stepped into the study, he was startled by its appearance.
Bookshelves reaching the ceiling lined the walls, filled to the brim with books, manuscripts, sketches, and pens. If not for the fact that he knew he was in a study, Lin Huai might have thought he’d walked into a small library.
Directly opposite the entrance was a desk and the back of a gaming chair, where “Tian Shu” sat in a massage chair. In front of the desk was a massive corkboard pinned with various documents.
Compared to the first floor, the second floor was overwhelmingly cluttered. Lin Huai cautiously approached and tapped the person on the shoulder, “Teacher Tian Shu…”
The next moment, his smile froze on his face.
The figure sitting in the gaming chair, back turned to him, wasn’t the overworked, exhausted Tian Shu—it was a life-sized Pikachu plushie.
The Pikachu turned as he pushed it, smiling innocently at him.
At the same time, a drowsy murmur came from the sofa in the corner of the study.
“…The fourth set of control experiments is complete, with a deviation rate of only 0.03% from the simulation results. Thank you, Science. Thank you, Nature. Thank you, TV, for giving me the opportunity to present my research findings to the world…”
Lin Huai: …
A vein pulsed on his forehead. Lin Huai was generally a well-mannered person (or so he claimed). Although he had a violent past, since his reformation, he had adhered to principles of professionalism and friendliness, partly because murder was punishable by law in modern society. However, for some reason, upon hearing that voice from the darkness, a long-suppressed sense of irritation surged within him.
At that moment, he didn’t realize that this feeling was called “I really dislike this person” and “This person is so punchable.”
The punchable subject lay on the sofa in the corner of the study, limbs sprawled awkwardly. He was haphazardly covered with a Pikachu-patterned blanket, a magazine obscuring his face. It seemed he had been pulling all-nighters for several days and had finally managed to drift into sleep here. In his hand, he loosely held a phone, dangling off the edge of the sofa.
‘Looks like he fell asleep right after talking to me on the phone…’ Lin Huai suppressed his irritation, feeling a bit of pity for this person who seemed drained by society. He tiptoed over to the sofa, crouched beside the sleeping figure, and whispered, “Teacher Tian Shu?”
As soon as he spoke, the man instinctively reached out a hand in his sleep, groped the air for a moment, and patted Lin Huai’s head, as if petting a small animal. Then he rolled over and sank back into his dreams.
“Stop it,” he mumbled.
Lin Huai: …
Adhering to the principle of “politeness before force,” Lin Huai crawled over again, “Teacher Tian Shu?”
This time, his head was patted twice. The man clearly had no intention of waking up. He withdrew his hand and continued mumbling in his sleep, “…I said stop it. You eat more in a month than the neighbor’s plushie does in three. I can’t afford to feed you anymore…”
Lin Huai: …
“Wake up! Submit your manuscript!” Lin Huai, having reached his limit, began shaking the man. This time, the person rolled over, still with his eyes closed, but grabbed Lin Huai’s hand, which was about to deliver a chop, “…If you keep moving, I’ll send you to the vet…”
Lin Huai’s forehead vein throbbed violently. Just as he was about to retaliate, a trembling “Meow~” came from the doorway.
He stiffly turned his head to see an orange, fluffy cat crouched by the door, its golden eyes wide like shiny light bulbs, staring unblinkingly at him and the person beside him.
Its expression seemed to say, “How dare you keep another cat behind my back.”
Lin Huai: …
He feared nothing in this world except cats. If there were a ranking for “most feared cats,” foreign breeds were manageable, but the local black cat undoubtedly took the top spot.
Though he didn’t dislike fluffy things, shortly after his reformation, he had been chased by a wary black cat on the street. The cat had scratched the back of his hand, forcing him to spend a significant amount of money and time traveling to the CDC for rabies vaccines. The wasted time and money had left him with a deep-seated fear of cats.
The orange cat before him, though not black, was 1.5 times the size of an average black cat, compensating for its lack of color-based intimidation. The cat stared at the two of them in their ambiguous position, arched its back, and let out a wary “Hiss.”
Lin Huai stood up, one hand still held by Tian Shu, leaving him with limited deterrence. He locked eyes with the cat, his own eyes gleaming with intensity.
‘I’ve seen hunters defeat big cats on Animal Planet. If I maintain eye contact and don’t show fear, the animal will panic and flee on its own…’ he thought (or so he believed) calmly. ‘Ten seconds, twenty seconds, thirty seconds… Though it’s an orange cat, it’s still an animal…’
The cat and the ghost stared at each other for a while. Finally, the orange cat let out a small, pitiful “Meow,” and retreated behind the door with its fluffy tail.
Lin Huai, thanks to his vast knowledge, had achieved a temporary victory. He couldn’t help but feel a bit smug.
‘Before that cat comes back, I must get the manuscript and escape… No, strategically retreat,’ he commanded himself in his mind, using the tone of a commander devising a galactic battle plan. ‘Time is precious, so I…’
Just as he was about to turn around, he felt his hand being tightly gripped.
“…Who are you?”
The person on the sofa, finally awake, demanded.
Author’s Note:
The orange cat’s expression is akin to: “Am I not your number one priority?”
