Foraging

This scent was neither the rich wheat fragrance of steamed buns in a bamboo basket nor the sharp, invigorating spice of red chili oil. It was a kind of aroma that defied description.

Sun Hang had only smelled something similar on Bloody Mary and Wang Xiyi.

"An aberration? Or an infected?" Sun Hang immediately became alert, cautiously surveying his surroundings.

A tricycle rolled over loose bluestone paving, its cargo bed filled with fresh vegetables still beaded with dew. Two children with backpacks and little yellow caps sat on the stone steps outside a shop, slurping noodle soup from large bowls. Three stooped old women gathered around a vegetable stall, fiercely haggling with the vendor...

In barely a dozen minutes, the old street had fully awakened. The bustling, lived-in scene instinctively made one want to lower their guard...

Of course, that was only if Sun Hang had not caught that scent unique to aberrations or the infected.

The scent flickered in and out, neither vanishing nor growing stronger... which meant its source had remained at a fixed distance from Sun Hang.

Sun Hang directly ignored all the people and objects that were moving. Yet even after eliminating so many "wrong answers," there were still an outrageous number of possibilities left.

The source of the scent could have been a person, an inconspicuous little bug, a chipped coarse porcelain teacup, even a clump of damp earth beneath a pedestrian's feet—or a gust of cold wind passing through the neighborhood.

"Chop, chop, chop..." The dull thudding of cleavers striking chopping boards reached Sun Hang's ears, along with the crackling of boiling rapeseed oil and the cries of street vendors... There were simply too many distractions, making it difficult for him to focus and identify the source of that scent one by one.

Fortunately, the scent was still there. It had not disappeared.

Sun Hang pulled a pair of disposable chopsticks from the holder on the table, tore open the wrapper, and snapped the joined sticks apart.

The wontons he had ordered were already in the pot. The old man at the next table was still chattering on about what food in Tianfu City was the most authentic, while a pitch-black crow flew over the street and vanished behind the eaves on one side.

Sun Hang took out his phone, considered it for a moment, then put it back into his pocket.

He was hungry.

He needed to forage.

"One and a half liang of wontons, no chili—" Just as the breakfast shop owner approached carrying a large bowl, that scent suddenly weakened slightly.

In that instant, Sun Hang locked onto his target—a young woman wearing a baseball cap, with the hood of her sweatshirt pulled up, gloves on both hands, and every inch of her body wrapped up tightly.

She was seated about fifteen meters away from Sun Hang, at a shop selling soy milk and fried dough sticks. After taking a large bag of fried dough sticks and steamed buns from the owner, she rose, pressed down the brim of her cap, and headed toward the street entrance.

Although at least five or six people had finished breakfast and gotten up at that moment, Sun Hang's intuition told him that the "scent" was coming from this woman.

"Boss, sorry, something urgent came up." Sun Hang rose as well and spoke awkwardly to the wonton shop owner.

"What's the rush? They're already cooked..." The owner froze for a moment, clearly annoyed.

"Sorry." Sun Hang swiftly took out his phone and scanned the payment QR code stuck to the corner of the table.

"Hey, hey, kid, if it's really urgent, forget it... no need to pay." The owner repeatedly waved his hands. "It's fine."

"I've already paid." Sun Hang looked at the old man who had been muttering away earlier. "Sir, this bowl of wontons is on me. Add as much chili as you like. I'm heading out."

"Young man, you can't go without breakfast!" The old man looked frail and unsteady, but his movements were nimble. He sprang up from his seat and stuffed a plastic bag containing two pieces of sticky rice cake into Sun Hang's hands. "No matter how busy you are, you can't work on an empty stomach!"

"Thank you, sir." Sun Hang casually stuffed the sticky rice cakes into his pocket, then took off after the young woman.

Behind him, the old man shook his head and sighed to the wonton shop owner, "Honestly, what are kids these days so busy with all day? Busy enough that they can't even spare time to eat?"

Although the target had disappeared from Sun Hang's sight, the lingering "scent" had become the perfect trail. Once he had locked onto the target, his previously muddled sense of direction instantly became clear, like the guiding arrow in a video game with quest markers.

After leaving the old street, the young woman carrying traces of an aberration's aura plunged straight into a dilapidated residential complex.

Compared to the bustling old street in the morning, this complex was far more desolate. Aging corridor-style apartment buildings were crammed behind rusted security fences. Much of the exterior plaster had peeled away, exposing mottled concrete beneath. The lower walls were plastered with dense layers of small ads, mostly for apartment rentals or private clinics specializing in men's or women's health.

Several of the buildings looked like they had become hazardous structures. Cracks covered the concrete frames, and the steel reinforcement inside had been exposed. A huge red circle had been painted near each entrance, containing a glaring character: "Demolish."

But for some reason, these dangerous buildings had never been torn down. Even the color of the demolition marks had faded... Over time, the paint had darkened until it resembled congealed blood.

Following the "scent," Sun Hang entered one of the condemned buildings. Most of its residents had already moved out. The doors had even been removed from several units, leaving their messy interiors plainly visible. But a few households were clearly still occupied—the "fresh" household garbage in the bins outside their doors was proof enough.

Sun Hang was already very close to his target, and the "scent" had become extremely distinct. If the wild wolves in the abnormal zone were scraps of meat on a mosquito's leg, then this young woman felt to Sun Hang exactly like that one-and-a-half-liang bowl of wontons from the breakfast stall.

Only one floor separated them now. Sun Hang could hear her footsteps climbing upstairs, and after a brief pause, they noticeably quickened.

"Oh, she noticed me?" Sun Hang smacked his lips, no longer bothering to hide his own footsteps. He drew his pistol and strode upstairs.

The layout of these corridor-style buildings was obvious from the outside. There was only one staircase serving the entire building. She could either jump from the building or let Sun Hang trap her in one of the rooms or on the rooftop.

She could not escape.