Fate's Gift

"Hey, Zhou Ze, time to get up." A slightly hoarse male voice sounded in the darkness.

Still groggy, Zhou Ze rolled over in bed and mumbled, "I'm not even working today. Why get up so early..."

Wait!

Zhou Ze's eyes snapped open. Memories surged back like a tide, instantly sweeping away his drowsiness.

I haven't forgotten!

Yes! I really haven't forgotten!

He suppressed his excitement and cautiously felt around for the switch beside his bed.

A dim yellow light slowly came on, dispelling the darkness. The small bulb on the ceiling gave off a soft glow, not harsh, but enough to illuminate the cramped, bare room.

Zhou Ze looked around. This was his room, arranged exactly as it had been before he left. Nothing had changed. A single bed, a small wooden table, and a plastic stool took up almost all the space.

His gaze finally settled on a corner of the room, where Old Yang stood with his back to him, apparently holding something in both hands. From this angle, Zhou Ze couldn't make out what it was.

Zhou Ze scanned the corners of the room and cautiously lowered his voice. "Old Yang, how long was I asleep? Didn't I get that... Class-A memory wipe?"

Surviving an accident like that without any trouble afterward would have been the truly suspicious part. Even now, he was probably still under some kind of surveillance.

"Memories are a person's most precious possession, the foundation of the self..." Old Yang didn't turn around. His voice was a little hoarse, as though he was chewing something.

He paused, swallowing the food in his mouth before continuing. "They shape our personalities and define our existence. Having someone casually erase them would be an absolute disaster."

"Anyway, you were unconscious for fourteen hours."

Only when Old Yang made no attempt to stop him from talking did Zhou Ze relax a little.

He silently watched Old Yang's back, turning things over in his mind.

Old Yang was always like this. At first, he seemed to be answering the question, but in reality, his answer missed the point entirely.

He never said a word about the most crucial parts.

Pressing him further would only yield more ambiguous answers. After spending so much time together, Zhou Ze had more or less gotten used to the way Old Yang spoke.

Old Yang was a capable man, after all. Perhaps people like him enjoyed saying unfathomable things and turning themselves into insufferable riddle-spewers.

Besides, Zhou Ze was pretty sure Old Yang had a touch of mental illness.

Zhou Ze sighed inwardly and decided to change the subject. "What are you eating now? Beef sashimi?"

"Raw beef paste," Old Yang replied flatly.

Then Old Yang slowly turned around. His crimson eyes looked especially eerie in the dim light, and his face was as haggard as ever. Dark red stains clung to the corners of his mouth, and he held a mangled lump of flesh that was difficult to identify.

"Changed your mind?" Old Yang asked, a hint of amusement in his voice.

"Huh?" Zhou Ze didn't catch on at first, but quickly realized what he meant.

He waved a hand in disgust. "Seriously, why do you always like eating this stuff? Humans spent hundreds of thousands of years evolving from eating raw flesh and drinking blood to cooking their food. You're going backward."

"Your body will tell you what it really needs. Trust me. It's as easy as believing that eating ice cream and bananas together gives you diarrhea..."

Old Yang shrugged and replied calmly, "I know you don't like it, so you see how I always hide away to eat. You don't understand, but you respect it. Get it?"

"Fine, fine... my bad." Zhou Ze didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

But as his gaze returned to the thing in Old Yang's hands, his expression soon soured again.

That bloody lump of beef paste suddenly reminded him of the two Class-D personnel who had been hit by the laser in the containment chamber.

Their bodies had melted into something similar after they died.

Zhou Ze shook his head, banishing those nauseating images from his mind, then jumped out of bed and hurried into the washroom.

He turned on the tap and splashed his face a few times, then reached out to wipe the mist from the mirror. He stared at the empty room reflected in it for a moment before asking without turning around.

"Old Yang, what you said earlier... about the trouble we caused. What did you mean?" Zhou Ze paused, then added, "Wasn't this just an accident?"

In the mirror, Old Yang wolfed down every last bit of the beef paste in his hands, then leisurely took out a handkerchief and wiped his mouth before speaking. "Zhou Ze, give me an objective assessment. How would you rate your luck?"

Luck? Why bring that up all of a sudden...

Zhou Ze gave a bitter smile. "Pretty good?"

In fact, he had already learned from occasional conversations between the security personnel outside his door that the death rate among Class-D personnel was extremely high. From that perspective, having managed to stay alive this long certainly made him lucky.

But if he really had good luck, why would he have transmigrated into a Class-D test subject in this place?

Didn't transmigrators in novels get the whole package-a cheat ability, a chance to show off and humiliate their enemies, and a harem?

After a brief silence, Old Yang's reflection spoke slowly, his tone almost a chant:

"Fate's gifts already come with a price tag. Any attempt to change a predetermined course demands an additional cost. Like a fish swimming upstream, which must expend more strength to fight the current; or a damaged levee, which requires more sand and gravel to fill the breach..."

Right, more riddles, huh?!

Grumbling inwardly, Zhou Ze strode out of the washroom and stared at Old Yang. "So what you're saying is... if I want good luck, someone else has to have bad luck?"

Old Yang looked visibly surprised. He sized Zhou Ze up, then snapped his fingers. "I didn't expect you to understand it that well. Hmm... a very concise but accurate description."

"Do you think I'm a fucking idiot?" Zhou Ze asked through gritted teeth. "And can't you stop talking in riddles? What's wrong with just saying it straight, like I did?"

"Where's the fun in that? A guy's got to find some entertainment."

"You fucking..."

"Keep it down. Someone's coming..." Old Yang glanced at the door, then turned back to remind him, "Remember, your memories of the last experiment have been erased. Don't let anything slip."

Zhou Ze immediately shut his mouth and hurried back to sit on the bed, staring straight at the bare wall with an obedient expression. But he kept a wary eye on the doorway through his peripheral vision.

"D-87465, leave your room."

A pair of indifferent eyes appeared in the viewing hatch on the door, and an icy voice pierced the silence.

They're here... Zhou Ze's heart tightened.

I knew this wouldn't be over that easily...

He pretended to startle, his body trembling slightly as he deliberately filled his voice with fear. "Is it my turn to work?"

He paused, as though something else had occurred to him, then cautiously added, "But I haven't eaten yet..."

"Cut the crap and get out here!" The man's voice was full of impatience. He clearly had no intention of explaining further.