After returning home, Jiang Fanxing was so exhausted that he barely managed a quick shower. Ignoring his wet hair, he collapsed onto his bed and fell into a deep sleep.
He was deep in a dreamless slumber when a thunderous pounding echoed through the room.
“Bang! Bang! Bang!”
“Teacher Jiang, are you still alive? Open the door!”
The person outside received no answer and continued to hammer on the door with renewed vigor. To Jiang Fanxing, it sounded like someone was banging gongs and drums right against his eardrums. His brow furrowed as he unwillingly drifted back to consciousness. Once he regained his composure, he rubbed his temples in frustration, climbed out of bed, and unlocked the door, letting the boisterous Mao Niang inside.
Mao Niang held a wig in one hand while intently scanning Jiang Fanxing’s face. “What on earth have you been doing for the last two months? Your complexion is terrible, and your skin is so rough. How can you face your fans like this?”
Jiang Fanxing rolled his eyes and headed toward the bathroom. “Mind your own business.”
Mao Niang followed him, his delicate, pretty face full of curiosity. “What were you doing today? I waited for you for so long, and all I got was a voice message saying you would not be coming. I thought something had happened to you.”
While washing his face, Jiang Fanxing replied, “Do not get me started. When I was heading your way, I ran into a sinkhole accident on Taoli Street and stayed to help with the rescue efforts.”
Mao Niang stared at him in genuine shock. “Since when have you been so altruistic?”
In the past, Jiang Fanxing was indifferent to everyone, let alone prone to helping others. If anyone tried to borrow money from him, he would immediately block them. It was only because Mao Niang was skilled at wig-making and dealt with him frequently that they had a decent relationship. Even so, Mao Niang would bet his life that if he ever asked Jiang Fanxing for a loan, he would be blocked without hesitation. But cosplayers were rarely poor; Jiang Fanxing spent so lavishly on wigs, costumes, and props that he clearly was not obsessed with money. Mao Niang had always intuited that Jiang Fanxing suffered from some childhood trauma related to money that made him deeply distrustful of everyone.
Jiang Fanxing did not care to explain. “When you came over, did you not see the situation on Taoli Street?”
Mao Niang shuddered at the mention of the street. “When I was looking for you, Taoli Street was already cordoned off, and there was no news online. If you had not told me, I would have had no idea what happened.” Recalling the dense, terrifying rifts hanging in the sky, he shivered. “Teacher Jiang, how much longer do you think we can survive?”
The apocalypse was beginning, with the world collapsing around them. Now, with the earth swallowing streets whole, things were going from bad to worse. Was there any safe place left in this world?
Jiang Fanxing replied coolly, “Just eat and drink while you can. With the government in charge, the apocalypse will end sooner or later.” He then turned and retreated into his dressing room, leaving Mao Niang outside.
Mao Niang watched him go, completely bewildered. Why is he so certain? Does he have inside information?
Soon, Jiang Fanxing stepped out of the dressing room, refreshed and clean. He picked up the wig to inspect it. The hair was not uniformly green; it was streaked with golden-brown strands, mimicking the spikes of a cactus. At the crown sat a finger-thick, curved cactus spike, and dangling from the end was a delicate pink cactus flower. Behind the ears, he had braided two small, intricate plaits decorated with tiny, realistic-looking cactus balls, spiky, round, and charmingly lifelike. Despite his hatred for the color green, Jiang Fanxing had to admit it was a masterpiece. It did not carry any negative connotations.
“Not bad,” he said with satisfaction. “I will pay you shortly.”
Mao Niang’s worries evaporated, replaced by a fawning attitude. “Thank you for the reward, Master. I shall leave you to your business.”
Jiang Fanxing did not ask him to stay. Once Mao Niang left, Jiang Fanxing spent the next week pondering what kind of costume could match such a wig. In the past, he could buy costumes and props online, but there was nothing resembling a cactus outfit; he would have to have it custom-made. However, he lacked the artistic talent to draw the blueprints, and he could not even describe what he wanted. He ultimately shelved the idea.
A week later, feeling fully rested, he prepared to enter a new rift world. Remembering his encounter with people from reality in the last world, he packed a bag with masks, ten pairs of sunglasses, three hats, and a dozen pairs of gloves. Since wearing a mask at all times was inconvenient, he messaged Mao Niang. “Do you know anyone who can make a realistic silicone mask?”
Mao Niang replied, “[Shocked] How did you know I make silicone masks? [Blushing kiss]”
“I am not joking. Truth be told, I can make masks out of pigskin, not just silicone.”
Jiang Fanxing blinked, surprised that Mao Niang had such hidden skills. He messaged back, “Then make me a mask that ensures no one will ever recognize me. Keep it safe for me; I will come for it when I need it. [WeChat transfer: 50,000]”
Mao Niang accepted the transfer instantly and sent a cheeky voice message: “You got it! I will make sure it is so lifelike that not even your mother could spot you.”
After saying goodbye to Mao Niang, Jiang Fanxing posted a message on social media claiming he was going into seclusion again. Carrying his backpack, he headed to a shopping mall restroom, disguised himself so thoroughly that even he barely recognized himself, and left. Following 110’s instructions, he located a small, unguarded rift.
The moment he entered, military personnel who had been monitoring the site reported his movement to their superiors. Within minutes, Xie Yunqing and his three teammates arrived at the rift.
“If you see him,” the Minister cautioned, “prioritize diplomacy. Do not provoke him.” They could not afford to alienate someone so potentially powerful.
“Understood,” Xie Yunqing replied. The team geared up and stepped into the rift.
Jiang Fanxing once again experienced that wave of dizziness, but thanks to his preparation—holding onto a walking stick—he steadied himself quickly. As the discomfort faded, he took in the world around him. He stood on the edge of a bustling street, surrounded by towering skyscrapers illuminated by brilliant, dazzling neon lights. From the surface, it looked like a thriving metropolis, far from an apocalypse.
However, he quickly noticed something wrong. The people on the street had vacant, numb expressions. Even while eating delicious food, they did not look happy. Jiang Fanxing scanned the crowd, yet he could not find a single person who looked truly joyful. It felt like a video game where the NPCs mimicked human behavior without possessing genuine emotions. His arrival made him stick out like a sore thumb.
A cold shiver ran down his spine. Every hair on his body screamed at him to leave before he was assimilated by these joyless husks.
“What has happened to this world?” he muttered.
Knowing 110 would provide no useful context, he began walking down the street, searching for information. He stopped in front of a skyscraper and looked up at a massive LCD display.
“Will Technology is actively unlocking the secrets of gamete inactivation. Founder Will Dalís claims they are on track to achieve the goal of maintaining the viability of reproductive cells outside the body within 30 years. If successful, they hope to solve the century-long infertility crisis within 100 years.”
Jiang Fanxing was still processing this when he heard a few people nearby sneering.
“Will has been shouting that slogan for a hundred years, has he not? Another 30 years, then another 30… even after we are dead, he still will not have solved it.”
“Do not worry, Will will die before we do.”
“Sigh, that is still over 200 years away.”
Wait—in 200 years? Jiang Fanxing stared at the young, refined faces of the speakers. How old are they? If they were talking about another 200 years, he realized with a shock that they were likely centuries old. If Qin Shi Huang could hear them, he would claw his way out of his tomb to demand the secret of longevity. But this longevity came at a massive cost: the entire world appeared to be infertile.
As the realization dawned on him, his gaze toward them shifted from curiosity to something far more complex. Beautiful, long-lived, and no children to raise—this was the dream of most young people in reality. But if no new babies were born, and they could not even use artificial fertilization, humanity would simply vanish from history once the current generation died out.
Suddenly, Jiang Fanxing had a question: if IVF did not work, why not use cloning? A voice nearby provided the answer.
“That idiot Will cannot even manage basic cloning, let alone solve the fertility crisis. It is impossible.”
“Do not blame Will. We are the ones who cannot reproduce; it is not his fault. He is trying his best.”
“But we have already accepted the fact that humanity is going extinct. Every few years, he uses these failed experiments to string us along. I am sick of it.”
Even as he spoke, his voice remained eerily flat, devoid of emotion. Yet, Jiang Fanxing could feel the crushing despair beneath the surface. He blinked and stepped back into the shadows. Now that he understood the nature of this world’s crisis, he asked 110, “What is my mission?”
“Host, this world has not seen a newborn in a century. Although human longevity has surpassed 300 years, it is projected that in 250 years, the last human will die, and humanity will go extinct. Therefore, your mission is to restore the reproductive capability of humanity in this world.”
Jiang Fanxing turned pale. Are you kidding me? I am not the Goddess of Mercy; I cannot perform miracles! This is impossible!