Doomsday Wonderland

"So, this is a fake pocket dimension," Wu Yiliu said with a smile. "Don't misunderstand."

Professor Qiao sat on a chocolate-colored chair, still looking as familiar as ever, her back straight, her shoulders proper. Her eyes, slightly red from the reunion, gradually returned to normal. She always exuded a calming, soothing strength. Wu Yiliu suddenly felt childlike grievances, wanting to whisper to her about his experiences during this time.

However, he could also feel that the soothing and stable quality in Professor Qiao was not genuine comfort. Comfort tells you that "everything will be okay, the world will still be normal." But what made Professor Qiao so calm and collected was something entirely opposite — and exactly what he needed.

"I understand." Professor Qiao nodded, seeming to fully grasp the Changelings' thoughts. After two seconds, she softly said, "Quite clever."

Wu Yiliu knew what she meant. Sometimes, while giving an introduction, he couldn't help but hide a few hints. But he quickly realized that all doubts could be answered with "this is just a fake pocket dimension." If the posthumans were to become suspicious, they would figure it out themselves, not even bothering to question him.

The question now was, what to do next?

"Would you like to watch TV?" the middle-aged man asked solicitously while offering Professor Qiao a cup of tea. Without waiting for an answer, he turned on the TV. "As you wished, I've placed the water bowl on the windowsill. Please make yourself comfortable; just do whatever feels right."

Wu Yiliu couldn't warn her so blatantly, so he just shook his head slightly, stopping even the slight motion almost immediately, mindful of surveillance. Professor Qiao glanced at him, and he didn't know if she understood or not.

Perhaps he was being overly optimistic, but he always felt that no matter who was affected, Professor Qiao would not be.

Ever since starting work that day, the middle-aged man seemed restless, glancing at him now and then, apparently full of things to say. They hadn't had a chance to talk in the dressing room today — due to a technical issue, a Changeling had been adjusting the men's locator — and he seemed to have received some news but didn't know how to tell Wu Yiliu.

Truth be told, Wu Yiliu didn't think the Changelings could be vigilant and monitor every NPC 24/7, but the risk lay in not knowing when any given sentence might be overheard, so caution was necessary.

He gave the middle-aged man a look, circled his chest with one arm, and with the other, discreetly covered the microphone on his collar, whispering, "What's going on?"

The middle-aged man glanced at Professor Qiao cautiously. The old lady suddenly seemed particularly interested in the TV show, watching the screen without blinking, as if completely oblivious to the NPC beside her. The man, still cautious, pulled Wu Yiliu back into the kitchen, copied his gesture, and whispered, "I got in touch with the masseuse you mentioned."

The consular officer had mentioned that day that the massage was quite comfortable, and Wu Yiliu had remembered. There were many places in the fake pocket dimension that offered massages, but the masseuses were always the same group of people. They had opportunities to move around and were better informed because of it.

"The posthumans we know are careful. They don't say much in front of NPCs," he said quickly, knowing he couldn't cover the microphone forever. "But that girl said the consular officer seemed quite arrogant, didn't care much, so she heard some bits and pieces. It sounds like there is indeed a Special Item that can generate pocket dimensions according to the arrangement."

"You mean they have clearly grasped the clue, and this item is in our world?"

"That should be what it means," said the middle-aged man, his face falling into a layer of heavy concern. "Because the consular officer said, 'I didn't ask for it, because I didn't find it very useful. Now, even if I want to find him again, I don't know where he could be.'"

Wu Yiliu's heart sank. Heaven was too unfair; all the resources, advantages, and luck seemed to be on the side of the Changelings. The power of the fake pocket dimension was already startling enough. At first, there wasn't a single Changeling among the coming and going posthumans. But lately, among the people coming for sweets, Changelings' faces began to appear. If it gained the power of a real pocket dimension, would the posthumans have any chance of survival?

With fewer posthumans, the world would become more stable and suffocating - until the tiny disasters created by the Changelings finally rolled like a snowball and destroyed it one day. And this process might consume his whole life.

"Is there anything else?" he asked eagerly.

"The thin, female posthuman said, 'If you're willing to cooperate, you can definitely find the person,' and then she changed the subject," the middle-aged man said, shaking his head, now naturally on the same side. "Perhaps it's because the masseur was right there. What should we do now?"

If he knew what to do, he wouldn't feel as if he were carrying a belly full of heavy stones.

When the two came out with some dessert utensils (to signify that they were indeed leaving for work) and placed them next to Professor Qiao, the old lady immediately glanced at Wu Yiliu. The television was still on, but her mind was clearly not on it.

No one spoke again. For a moment, the room was filled only with the flickering lights and overlapping dialogue from the TV. In the artificial silence, only the weight of surveillance cameras hung in the air.

The old lady suddenly broke the silence.

"I'm not very interested in television," she said to Wu Yiliu. "I got a phone in your world. Come teach me how to use it."

Wu Yiliu's heart leaped to his throat. Professor Qiao was quick-thinking! What couldn't be said aloud could be communicated through typing; although the room was heavily monitored, reading a small phone screen would be difficult. He quickly walked over, took Professor Qiao's phone, and while verbally explaining the texting function, quickly wrote two messages, deleted them after the old lady read them and nodded.

His messages merely conveyed that some posthumans were collaborating with Changelings, and that the fake pocket dimension intended to centralize posthumans and slowly "digest" them. As he was about to tell the old lady about the pocket dimension becoming real, footsteps sounded at the entrance of the candy house. As he hastily handed the phone back to Professor Qiao, almost the next second, the door was pushed open.

The thin female posthuman stood at the door.

'Has our conversation been overheard?'

That was Wu Yiliu's first reaction, but he immediately dismissed it as the suspicious gaze of the other party fixed on Professor Qiao.

Ah, right... Their luck was too bad.

Wu Yiliu was almost trembling. He remembered that during the training, this female posthuman said she would occasionally pretend to be just coming in to relax other posthumans' guard. But she hadn't come for a while, and he almost forgot about it—and she chose this moment to appear!

Could she tell at a glance that Professor Qiao was not a posthuman?

Wu Yiliu surreptitiously glanced at Professor Qiao and found that the old lady's expression was very calm, even relaxed, as if this candy house was her own home. She nodded at the gaunt female posthuman and said, "I just came in. Are you new here too?"

"Me? Oh no, I've been here for a week." The gaunt woman slowly walked in, sitting down across from Professor Qiao, her eyes sizing her up.

It seemed as if Professor Qiao was too natural, and her aura had intimidated her, causing the female posthuman to be a little uncertain about who Professor Qiao really was. "You... are you a posthuman?"

Professor Qiao couldn't help but laugh. She picked up the teacup and took a sip of tea, then said, "What do you think? Convincing, right?"

The gaunt woman looked a bit puzzled.

"I recently got my hands on this thing. If you want, I'm willing to sell it." Professor Qiao leaned comfortably against the back of her chair, smiling. "An item that can make you appear as if you haven't evolved. You know its value without me saying it."

The gaunt woman's expression relaxed considerably. Only then did Wu Yiliu realize his back was covered in cold sweat.

"Where was your last world?" she asked, continuing to probe, perhaps still not completely reassured. The gaunt woman wouldn't physically test them; Wu Yiliu was sure of this. From her perspective, if the other party really was a posthuman, a fight would mean breaking the rules of the pocket dimension, and they would immediately discover that this pocket dimension had no real ability to punish—that would blow their cover.

"Heaven Underworld," Professor Qiao said, her face remaining impassive. "I bought this item in the Black Market."

"Oh, I've never been there. Sounds great."

Once the place was mentioned, the gaunt woman seemed to have no doubt anymore. Ordinary people might have a chance to know about the existence of posthumans, but where would they know more information about the apocalyptic worlds?

In this world, there was only one Professor Qiao.

"I just thought you looked familiar," the gaunt woman said, tilting her head, looking at Wu Yiliu, then at Professor Qiao. "No, I must not have seen you before, but there's a sense of familiarity..."

"Perhaps we brushed past each other in some world," the old lady said, unfazed.

"That's possible." The gaunt woman laughed, chatted a bit more, ate some snacks, then stood up to leave. "I'll go to other places, watch a movie."

"Alright, see you later," Professor Qiao said with a smile.

Wu Yiliu watched the gaunt woman walk to the door, his heart having returned to his stomach, thankful that it was a false alarm. Just as she raised her hand to push the door, she suddenly turned back and, as casually as talking about the weather, uttered a single word.

"Shoreis."

The moment Wu Yiliu realized what was happening, it was already too late. The moment that word entered his ears, Professor Qiao could no longer control herself, leaping up from her chair, her face as white as snow.

The gaunt woman looked at her and slowly smiled.

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