Chapter 246: The Past

Zhang Wenda tucked Kopan’s Sacrificial Knife into the perfectly-sized round hollow in his chest. The golden knife handle and obsidian blade rested coldly against his skin, ready for him to draw at a moment’s notice.

Although he had temporarily deceived Kopan and obtained the ability to nullify most of the strange and bizarre rules, as the day drew nearer, the joy in Zhang Wenda’s heart was gradually replaced by tension and anxiety.

Even with Kopan’s help, he estimated his odds of taking out Tang Xingxiong had increased from seventy to ninety percent.

But at the thought of soon facing the person who had killed his uncle, Zhang Wenda’s heart hammered in his chest like a trapped rabbit, refusing to quiet down.

"Open your mouth. Hurry up. Why are you spacing out again?" Song Jianguo, sitting cross-legged on the table and holding a large bowl, impatiently shoved a spoonful of rice toward Zhang Wenda’s mouth.

Zhang Wenda snapped out of his daze, opened his mouth, and swallowed the mouthful of egg-fried rice, which was clearly too salty. There was nothing to be done about it. Both of his hands were now barbed scythes, so he had no choice but to be fed by someone else.

The task naturally fell to Song Jianguo. After all, who else would do it? She was the one still collecting a salary of twenty-five hundred a month.

Just then, the door opened with a CREAK, and a little girl wearing a tinfoil hat and a baggy school uniform floated in.

Hu Maomao didn’t stand on ceremony after entering the room. With a flick of her hands, she telekinetically summoned a bowl, filled it to the brim with rice from the pot, and sat down to eat.

But after just one bite, she made a face and put her bowl down. "Who cooked this? It’s way too salty."

Zhang Wenda pointed the tip of his scythe at the Black Cats strolling on the ceiling. "Just make do. You’ve clearly never had anything cooked by Song Jianguo. The world of god-awful cooking has found its heir apparent."

He shot her a surprised look. "Why are you here so early?"

"Weren’t you the one who called me yesterday? Of course I’m here to join the operation. I came early to sync up with you. How are the preparations going?"

"About as ready as I’ll ever be." Zhang Wenda pushed away the spoon at his lips, indicating he was full.

Song Jianguo rolled her eyes at him, pulled the large bowl into her arms, and began to noisily slurp down the rest of the food.

"You’re a strong sensitive. I need you to watch our backs later. Don’t let anyone from the Big Circle get the drop on us. And if our comms get jammed, I’ll be relying on you to contact the Bureau," Zhang Wenda said, assigning Hu Maomao her task.

The enemy they were facing was formidable. He couldn’t afford to be careless. He had to use every ally available, even if it meant calling in favors he’d have to repay later.

"Alright, leave it to me." Hu Maomao sighed softly, a complicated look on her little face. "Tang Xingxiong... I really never thought this day would come. Back when we were in school, we used to walk home together all the time."

Zhang Wenda looked at her in surprise. "You knew her well?"

"We were all part of the same system back then. It was hard not to know each other, wasn’t it? And don’t forget, she was the one who introduced you to me, back in the Big Circle." As she spoke, Hu Maomao shoveled another mouthful of rice, only to immediately put down her bowl again.

"Back in school, she was so beautiful and gentle. She wouldn’t even curse. Who knows what happened to her after that... she just completely changed. I never imagined she’d end up joining the Big Circle."

"Stop. I don’t want to hear about what she used to be like." The moment the woman was mentioned, an uncontrollable fire flared in Zhang Wenda’s heart. "I don’t care who she was back then. Right now, I want her life!"

"I know. I’m not trying to make excuses for her. She killed Biaozi, and her hands are stained with the blood of so many of our own people. Even if you weren’t the one to do it, she’d be facing a firing squad if she ever came back. It’s just..."

Hu Maomao’s voice was tinged with an indescribable wistfulness. "It’s just... such a shame. Things would have been so much better if that whole Thought Wave crisis had never happened, you know?"

"If there was no Thought Wave crisis, Bureau 749 would never have disbanded. If Bureau 749 hadn’t disbanded, the Big Circle would never have come to power. We’d all still be colleagues and friends, not trying to kill each other like we are now..."

Although Hu Maomao’s eyes were completely hidden by the tinfoil, Zhang Wenda could hear in her words a deep nostalgia for the days gone by.

The room fell silent. After a few seconds, Zhang Wenda spoke. "What’s the point of saying that? I also wish none of this ever happened. If I’d known how things would turn out, I would have just stayed put in Thought Wave One and never left."

Hu Maomao propped her chin on her hand and gazed out the window. "You know, a lot of people have regrets. The people in the Big Circle are just different. They treat creating their own thought waves like a pill to cure regret. They want to use the power of thought waves to erase their past disappointments."

"Don’t assume everyone in the Big Circle is a bad person. They’re all just pitiful souls who couldn’t get what they desperately wanted."

"They’re pitiful? Then who’s going to take pity on me?"

After saying this, Zhang Wenda pulled out his phone to check the time. Deciding not to wait any longer, he braced himself and abruptly stood up.

"Auntie, let’s cut the chat here for now. After this is all over, I’ll come back and we can reminisce about the good old days. It’s about time. We need to head over to the network thought wave and get into position."

"Fine, let’s go, let’s go." Hu Maomao set down her bowl. Her body floated up weightlessly, and she followed Zhang Wenda out the door.

"I’m just giving you a piece of advice as someone who’s been through it," she said. "Cherish what you have right now. Some of these days that feel so ordinary, once they’re gone, you won’t be able to get them back no matter the cost."

Zhang Wenda shot her a sideways glance. This Hu Maomao looked like an eight or nine-year-old girl, but the way she talked was so geriatric. ’Not cute at all.’

He had no time to mull over Hu Maomao’s life lessons. His mind was focused on one thing: making his move, the sooner the better. "Jianguo, we’re leaving! Remember to grab the mushroom from the windowsill."

This time, they didn’t go to the airport. Instead, they arrived at a computer room in Bureau 507. More than a dozen massive, one-hundred-inch LCD screens hung on the wall like portals to another world, casting a faint blue glow.

"You must be Zhang Wenda? This is a cloaking program we’ve prepared for the three of you. Once you go in, it’ll make it harder for people from the Big Circle to recognize you on sight."

A rat-faced man in a plaid shirt and thick glasses hurried over and deftly installed an app named "005" on all three of their phones.

"And rest assured, our network team will provide full support during the operation. All information will be synced in real-time. If there’s the slightest sign of trouble, we’ll notify you immediately."

’Old Tan hadn’t completely screwed him over this time, at least. He’d actually sent guys from another team to help.’

"Alright, got it." Zhang Wenda double-checked the time and place on the slip of paper. With a flick of his finger, the blade of his scythe sliced the paper into tiny fragments. "Three-fifteen p.m. Xiaohongshu Marketplace."