The Statue Spoke

At the horizon, the orange-red sun slowly sank, casting its final afterglow upon the land.

Low concrete houses stood scattered across the earth, while small groups of people walked expressionlessly along the pothole-ridden streets.

The dying sunlight filtered through an old four-pane wooden window, struggling to dispel the gloom in the room as it fell upon a cluttered desk.

Several scattered pools of filthy vomit lay on the floor beside the desk.

A young man with slightly disheveled hair sat dejectedly before the desk. His bloodshot eyes brimmed with unease and panic as he blankly swept his gaze over the papers and books covered in writing.

Chaotic, disordered memories flashed rapidly through his mind.

Chen Fan—that was his current name, and also his name before he had "crossed over."

That was right. He had transmigrated!

Before transmigrating, Chen Fan had been an utterly ordinary, struggling private detective whose main job was finding lost Carbon-Based Lifeforms.

Put simply, he helped well-off families find their missing cats and dogs.

Of course, thanks to his solid reputation, he occasionally received jobs gathering evidence of extramarital affairs.

When necessary, he could even moonlight as a rideshare driver, an online shopping review booster, a group-buying bargain helper, or someone who snatched Spring Festival travel tickets...

All in all, he was an ordinary man with "many digital skills."

But a sudden car accident had completely shattered Chen Fan's peaceful, fulfilling life.

During a hazy, bizarre drifting process, his consciousness seemed to be drawn by something as it rapidly "fell" into this world.

"What the hell is this place..."

Chen Fan's face was pale. Staring blankly at the papers before him, he let out a dry, hoarse murmur from deep in his throat.

His stomach burned with waves of nausea, his thoughts were tangled into a mess, and he could even vaguely feel the dizziness of prolonged oxygen deprivation inside his head.

Perhaps because the body's original owner had been dead for too long and many brain cells had perished, Chen Fan possessed very few memories related to the original owner. Only some basic common knowledge about language and interpersonal relationships remained.

He struggled to take several deep breaths.

Driven by his will to survive, Chen Fan endured the severe discomfort throughout his body and began examining his surroundings, trying to use his professional instincts to gather some basic information.

His gaze swept quickly across the desk before finally stopping on a small empty glass bottle.

Drawing on the original owner's memories, Chen Fan quickly recognized the words on the bottle—Sleeping Pill.

Combined with the intense discomfort in his body and the pools of vomit at his feet, he quickly reached a simple conclusion: the original owner had taken sleeping medication to commit suicide.

The moment he reached that conclusion, all sorts of possible reasons for suicide instinctively surfaced in Chen Fan's mind.

Mental illness? External stimulation? Or perhaps so-called hereditary factors?

No matter which it was, none of them would be good news for him right now!

Chen Fan's expression shifted slightly as he raised his head to look around the room he was in.

It was a cramped, narrow room. All the furniture was made of wood, and aside from a device resembling an incandescent bulb hanging from the ceiling, there were almost no electrical appliances in sight.

Combined with the low concrete houses outside the window, he could basically determine that this world's technological level was not advanced—at least not in the area where he currently was.

A large amount of messy clothing had been casually tossed into the corner, and a rather hearty meal sat beside the tightly shut wooden door.

The original owner appeared to have stayed in this room for quite some time. During that period, his family had still provided him with decent food.

It seemed his family relationships were not too bad. Perhaps suicide caused by family factors could be ruled out.

Chen Fan silently noted this clue before turning his gaze toward the side of the room.

There hung an old, enormous painting depicting a woman with an exceptionally well-proportioned figure.

The reason he described her as well-proportioned was that the figure in the painting perfectly matched the golden ratio.

Because of that, the person in the painting possessed a beauty that did not belong to the mortal world.

Combined with the sacred lines in the painting and the bone-deep reverence that involuntarily arose in his mind, he quickly reached a conclusion: this was a divine portrait depicting the Goddess.

But... the size of this divine image clearly defied common sense—it nearly occupied the entire blank wall!

Gazing at the lofty deity in the painting, Chen Fan's expression turned solemn, and the lingering sense of danger in his heart grew even stronger.

Could this world still be in an age of worshipping gods?

That was absolutely terrible news!

In Chen Fan's impression, an age of superstitious, feudal religion was not an era suited for ordinary people to live in!

Leaving aside the oppression and persecution of ordinary people by religion, the backward productivity and medical standards alone were enough to make Chen Fan tremble in fear—he had no desire to experience those idealistic treatments that were no different from shamanic rituals when he fell ill!

Thinking of the various bizarre things he might encounter in the future, Chen Fan's anxiety deepened further.

He irritably licked his dry lips, then turned around and tried to glean more information from the papers and books on the desk that were covered in crooked handwriting.

Suddenly, an irregular knock sounded from outside the tightly shut wooden door, accompanied by a female voice tinged with worry:

"Xiao Fan?"

It was the original owner's mother!

Chen Fan's expression stiffened. He instinctively held his breath and slowed his movements.

If someone discovered that "he" had attempted suicide and failed...

There was no need to think about it. It would certainly lead to plenty of unnecessary disputes, and his identity as a transmigrator might even be exposed!

Perhaps because she had not heard Chen Fan's response, the woman outside grew increasingly anxious. "You haven't left your room for three whole days."

"Tell Mom properly. What exactly happened?"

As her urgent questions continued, the doorknob began rattling.

Keep the door shut and claim he was unwell?

Say nothing and pretend he was asleep?

Play dumb and crazy, using amnesia to conceal the truth?

Break through the window and flee, becoming a drifter from then on?

After quickly ruling out several suicidal plans that had instinctively surfaced in his mind, Chen Fan swiftly tidied the messy desk, casually stuffed the Sleeping Pills bottle and the papers covered in writing into a drawer, and then...

He opened the door and walked out on his own!

"Xiao Fan!"

The moment the door opened, a trace of delight burst into Mother Chen's eyes.

She raised a hand and quickly wiped the corner of her eye, murmuring softly, "It's good that you came out. It's good that you came out..."

As she spoke, she seemed to remember something. Reaching out to grab Chen Fan, she hurried toward the living room. "You haven't prayed to God these past few days."

"Come on, go worship the divine image with Mom first."

Worship the divine image?

Chen Fan froze for a moment as his earlier speculation about this world surfaced uncontrollably in his mind once more.

The less he said, the fewer mistakes he would make. Chen Fan silently followed the middle-aged woman.

The house was small, and after only a few steps, they arrived in the cramped, dim living room.

Just like in his room, the incandescent bulb hanging from the ceiling was the only electrical appliance in the living room.

Perhaps noticing Chen Fan's gaze, Mother Chen stopped and looked at the incandescent bulb emitting a dim yellow light. She pressed her palms together in prayer, her face turning reverent. "Thank the Lord for granting light to the world..."

Hearing that, Chen Fan's expression became even stranger.

She was thanking God for the gift of an incandescent bulb, a purely technological creation?

Wasn't this style a little too bizarre?

Though he grumbled inwardly without pause, Chen Fan still set aside his sense of incongruity and copied his mother's prayer gesture, both to follow local customs and avoid unnecessary suspicion and conflict.

Seeing Chen Fan do this, a flash of joy immediately crossed Mother Chen's face.

"Xiao Fan, come."

Mother Chen called softly and headed once more toward the other side of the living room.

Chen Fan stiffly moved his legs and followed her.

After passing the dining table and going around a wooden partition wall, a divine statue several dozen centimeters tall suddenly entered his view!

The statue stood upon a sturdy wooden table, and it was clearly the same female deity depicted in the painting in his room!

However, compared to the painting, the statue appeared more dignified and imposing.

At some point, his mother had already knelt on a Prayer Mat in front of the statue, once more pressing her palms together in prayer.

When in Rome, do as the Romans do. Seeing his "mother" acting this way, Chen Fan convincingly knelt on another Prayer Mat.

"Xiao Fan, I think something has been off about you lately. Is it because of becoming God Chosen?"

"You are The God Chosen One. God will always be watching over you."

"Don't put too much pressure on yourself. If you encounter any difficulties, you can talk to God properly. God will definitely help you."

Mother Chen closed her eyes and spoke with devotion.

Chen Fan raised an eyebrow, immediately noticing a key piece of information in Mother Chen's words.

He was God Chosen, and he had only recently been chosen.

Judging from the literal meaning alone, this seemed like a fairly good status.

At least in an age of feudal superstition, one chosen by God should possess considerable social standing.

This discovery slightly eased the unease in Chen Fan's heart.

As for his mother saying that God would watch over him and help him... Chen Fan naturally dismissed those words.

As a firm materialist, he did not believe in any gods.

"Xiao Fan?" his mother urged softly from beside him.

Seeing that he could not remain silent any longer, countless thoughts flashed through Chen Fan's mind.

Under his mother's watchful gaze, he moved his dry lips and murmured softly in a hoarse voice:

"I'm just a little lost."

"I heard that a twitching left eye brings wealth, while a twitching right eye brings disaster. Ever since becoming God Chosen, my right eyelid has kept twitching, so..."

As he spoke, Chen Fan brought his utterly poor acting talent into play, letting his eyes dim as he sighed softly.

Fight magic with magic.

Since she wanted to talk to him about feudal superstition, he would use feudal superstition against her!

His mother said nothing. She merely turned her head and looked up at the divine statue on the wooden table.

Seeing that he had fooled her, Chen Fan immediately let out a sigh of relief inside.

Looking at the statue? What use was looking at a statue?

Could a statue actually speak?

Just as Chen Fan secretly laughed to himself, a stiff Electronic Synthesized Voice came from the statue before him:

"A twitching right eyelid is an intermittent, involuntary clonic spasm of the orbicularis oculi muscle and facial nerve controlled by the brain. It is usually caused by excessive fatigue, so there is no need to worry."

At that moment, Chen Fan's expression completely froze.

Holy shit?

What the hell?!

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