Gregor walked toward the small rented room he called home, smoking the pack of cigarettes that had been left to him out of kindness. He silently calculated how many days the food he'd bought would last.
Then he caught a familiar scent—
grilled meat.
He looked toward the source and spotted someone he recognized, working hard at a barbecue stall.
His stomach—flat from having eaten nothing all day—gave a quiet protest.
Gregor hesitated, then decided to try his luck.
Maybe I can get a meal on credit…
He gathered his courage and headed over.
Not long before that, Zhou Zhuang had rushed back to the table.
The barbecue was already there—covered with a transparent glass cloche—and Angela's gaze was fixed on him, silently saying everything she didn't need to say.
Zhou Zhuang's scalp prickled under that stare.
He knew he was in the wrong, so he lowered his head, stared at the cement beneath his feet, and refused to meet her eyes. He dragged out his chair and sat down, then quickly pulled the bottle of purified water from the bag and handed it to her like an apology in physical form.
He felt the bottle get taken.
Then Angela spoke, calmly but firmly:
"Manager. If we don't eat it soon, it'll get cold."
That single sentence told Zhou Zhuang everything—
She wasn't angry. She was just reminding him.
His HP bar instantly refilled.
He straightened up and tried to sound reasonable:
"Angela… you didn't have to wait for me. You could've started eating."
Then he lifted the glass cover, eyes wide with admiration.
"Wait—did you borrow this cloche from the old man? Street vendors are insane, seriously. How do they fit so much stuff in one cart? And—whoa! This thing keeps heat in too! When it was covered I couldn't even tell, but it's still hot. That old man's got some black-tech gear!"
He was about to stand up and return it when Angela, already picking food with her chopsticks, stopped him without even looking up:
"Manager. Please don't attribute company property to someone else. This cloche is a company item. Chew."
Zhou Zhuang froze mid-stand and slowly sat back down.
"…This? It looks like a normal glass cover."
He stared at it, couldn't see anything special, then—like a child—stuck his head inside to "feel the effect."
Angela watched him abandon eating entirely to play with the "cloche," watched him literally put his head inside it…
She pressed a hand to her forehead and sighed. Then she extended her hand toward him.
Zhou Zhuang obediently removed it and passed it over.
Angela took it, did something subtle—
And in an instant, the "glass cover" collapsed and transformed into a small box about the size of a lighter.
She handed the tiny box back to him.
Zhou Zhuang stared, dumbfounded.
Angela explained evenly:
"Manager, this is the company's 'Current-State Preservation Case.' It can transform into a suitable form according to need."
Zhou Zhuang held a chicken wing in one hand and examined the little box under the streetlight with the other.
"Mmph… so this is that… um… freshness-preservation Singularity, right? Which company's tech was that again? I remember it being expensive… chew chew."
He spat out a chicken bone, grabbed a random skewer of garlic chives, and kept chewing as he talked.
"No wonder the barbecue tastes like it just came off the grill. Hiss—hot! By the way… don't we have to pay licensing fees for this?"
Angela's lips curved into a faintly disdainful smile. She set down an empty skewer, took a chicken drumstick, and waved it lightly as she spoke—casual, like she was explaining something obvious.
"Manager. Patent licensing is a joke.
If two parties discover the same Singularity application one after another—but the first one doesn't file, and the second uses 'a bit of method' to secure patent protection under Company A…"
She paused, bit off a piece of meat, then continued:
"Should the first party be punished for failing to file in time?"
Zhou Zhuang slammed his skewer down.
"F*ck—people actually do that?! If I ever run into someone like that, I swear I'm using that 'Tom Uncle' footwork I learned next door—straight into their ass with my dress shoe."
Then, after finishing his threat, he silently bent down, picked up the skewer he'd thrown on the ground, and neatly placed it back with the others.
Angela couldn't help smiling at that.
"Of course, Manager. That was only a metaphor. But as for 'licensing fees'…
It's mostly about whether the company's 'informant network' can identify and pursue illegal users."
Zhou Zhuang spoke around half a chicken wing, muffled:
"Then… doesn't that make ours illegal too?"
Angela dabbed a bit of chili oil from the corner of her mouth with her pinky, then said, perfectly straight-faced:
"Ours is fully legal, Manager. One hundred percent pure and innocent. The production process contains no illegal methods whatsoever."
She blinked at him—playful, almost teasing.
Zhou Zhuang instantly relaxed and swallowed his bite.
He noticed the skewers on the table were already more than half gone. After gauging the remaining capacity of his stomach, he stood up.
"I'm going to add more."
He walked back toward the old man at the grill.
That was when he saw a familiar hunched figure standing at the stall, talking to the vendor.
The old man's voice rose sharply—clearly rejecting whatever the man was asking for.
Gregor seemed to want to explain further, but stopped when he noticed someone approaching from behind the vendor. The old man sighed, about to say something—
And Zhou Zhuang's voice cut in.
"Old man! I'm adding more skewers!"
He stepped up beside the stall.
"Same order as before—same quantities. And throw in some of your signature stuff too."
As he spoke, his eyes shifted to the hooded figure.
"This guy is…?"
The vendor, apparently trying to avoid trouble for both the customer and Gregor, lied through his teeth:
"Just some useless runaway. No money, wants to eat on credit."
Zhou Zhuang rubbed his chin, studying the man.
"Is that so?"
Gregor shrank under the attention, but at this distance it was impossible to hide properly. Zhou Zhuang caught a glimpse of his face beneath the hood as he shifted and tried to avoid being seen.
And then Zhou Zhuang's eyes widened.
"Ah—it's you."
....
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