“Is this Hongda Chemical Plant?
It seems even more remote than the map indicated.”
Cyrene raised a hand to shield her eyes, slightly narrowing her eyes with their strange, diamond-shaped pupils.
The midday sun mercilessly baked the cracked asphalt road, filling the air with the dry scent of dust.
Not far away, several glaring yellow caution tapes cordoned off the dusty factory grounds, layer by layer.
Under the shimmering heat waves, the abandoned factory resembled the carcass of a giant beast slumbering on the wasteland.
Upon reaching her destination, Cyrene willed it, and a blue light screen instantly unfolded in the corner of her vision.
[Scanning surrounding area…]
As the radar waves rippled outward, a crimson dot abruptly appeared at the center of the previously empty scan map, pulsing at an extremely slow frequency.
Bingo!
Looks like my intuition is as sharp as ever.
A graceful curve formed on Cyrene’s lips as she inwardly gloated.
A Xeno was indeed lurking here, which meant a substantial amount of Memory Imprints would soon be hers.
After confirming the target, she composed herself and began scanning her surroundings.
“But…
isn’t it a little too quiet around here?”
Since the authorities had already sealed off this area, there should have been personnel on guard.
Yet, as she looked around, the entire street was deserted, with not a soul in sight, save for the occasional passing vehicle kicking up a cloud of dust.
Just as Cyrene was feeling puzzled, a sudden aroma wafted into her nostrils.
It was the scent of low-quality soybean oil mixed with scallions, sizzled by high heat.
Cyrene turned her head, following the scent, and her gaze locked onto a tricycle parked several dozen meters outside the caution tape.
It was a jianbing guozi stall that looked like it had weathered many storms.
“Hmm…?”
Cyrene blinked, as if she had discovered a new continent.
In this desolate place, miles from any town or shop, right next to a sealed-off zone where no one was supposed to enter, someone was calmly making pancakes?
The scene was utterly incongruous, like a comedian suddenly stumbling onto the set of a horror movie.
Countless classic scenes from cop movies flashed through Cyrene’s mind: plainclothes officers disguised as sanitation workers, street vendors, or passersby.
So that’s how it is…
The smile in her eyes deepened.
It seemed this “stall owner” was the official informant left here.
Since she had already been noticed, turning back now would only make her look guilty.
It was better to play along, establish a “rich girl with more money than sense” persona, and maybe even extract some intel.
Having made up her mind, Cyrene smoothed her skirt and walked toward the stall with light, graceful steps.
As she drew closer, the stall owner’s appearance became clearer.
He was a man in his early thirties, with dark skin, a bluish stubble on his chin, and a slightly greasy, army-green tank top.
Although he was focused on spreading the batter, his eyes occasionally flickered upward from beneath his lids, scanning Cyrene with a sharp gaze.
That look was far from the warmth a small vendor should show a customer; it was more like he was scrutinizing a potential suspect.
Cyrene walked to the stall, hands behind her back, leaning slightly forward, a harmlessly sweet smile on her face:
“Hello, boss!
Could I get a jianbing guozi?”
(Spy-Chinese street food crepe.
Look it up, it is delicious)
Hearing her voice, the stall owner’s hands visibly paused.
He looked up, frowning as he sized up the exquisitely dressed girl who seemed so out of place, then said impatiently:
“Can’t you see I’m busy?
The basic one is twenty.
Take it or leave it.”
“Twenty?”
Cyrene’s mouth fell slightly open.
“But…
boss, doesn’t your sign say eight yuan each?”
The stall owner slammed his spatula against the griddle with a loud clang, his tone even harsher, clearly trying to drive her away with his terrible attitude:
“Am I the boss, or is the sign the boss?
Prices have gone up!
I say it’s twenty, so it’s twenty!
If you think it’s too expensive, then get lost and stop blocking my business!”
Faced with this blatant provocation, Cyrene didn’t get angry; instead, she let out a soft chuckle.
“Hehe…
so that’s how it is.”
She leisurely pulled her phone from her small handbag, tapped the screen a few times, and spoke in a tone as light as if she were discussing the weather:
“Since the price has gone up, the service must have improved too, right?
In that case, please make me a ‘deluxe edition’ jianbing guozi with all the toppings.”
Ding—Alipay payment received, two hundred yuan.
The crisp electronic notification sounded exceptionally loud on the quiet street.
“You…?!”
The stall owner’s fierce expression froze on his face.
He stared wide-eyed at the transfer notification on his phone screen, then back at the smiling girl, momentarily speechless.
His earlier words were clearly meant to drive customers away.
Any normal person would have cursed him out and left after hearing such a blatant rip-off.
Why wasn’t this girl playing by the rules?
He took a deep breath, attempting one last struggle, and pointed at the price list, his voice sharp:
“Little girl, let me warn you upfront: the prices here can change at any time.
It’s easy to transfer the money, but getting it back will be another story!”
“Mm-hmm, I know.”
Cyrene nodded obediently, her gem-like eyes sparkling with an innocent (feigned) light:
“I saw the deluxe edition is listed at thirty-six yuan.
You just said the basic version’s price more than doubled, so two hundred yuan should barely cover this one, right?
If it’s not enough, I can add a little more?”
As she spoke, she pretended to reach for her phone again.
“It’s enough, it’s enough!”
The stall owner’s mouth twitched violently.
Seeing Cyrene’s “I’m rich, I do what I want” attitude, he finally deflated like a punctured balloon and shook his head in resignation.
He bent down, pulled out eggs and crispy crackers from the cabinet below, and his spatula danced swiftly across the griddle.
Yet, every movement seemed to radiate a resentful “Just get this over with and get lost” energy.
Sizzle—
The batter spread, and the aroma wafted up.
Cyrene watched the stall owner’s busy back, her gaze drifting casually toward the silent chemical plant in the distance.
She asked in a nonchalant tone:
“By the way, you must have been running this stall for a long time, right?
What exactly happened at that chemical plant?
Why has it been sealed off for so long?”
Without turning his head, the stall owner continued sprinkling scallions without missing a beat and coldly tossed out a sentence:
“Chemical leak.
The authorities sealed it off for safety.”
“Hmm…
A chemical leak, huh.”
Cyrene tapped her chin thoughtfully, her voice soft and sweet, yet carrying a subtle, probing undertone:
A typical chemical leak should dissipate within a few days after emergency treatment, right?
What kind of terrifying substance could make the authorities treat it like a major crisis, keeping it sealed for over half a month without lifting the blockade?”
“How would I know…
Wait, over half a month?”
The stall owner replied instinctively, then his spatula froze mid-air.
He turned his head, sizing Cyrene up and down as if she were an idiot, and rolled his eyes irritably:
“So you knew about this all along?
And you’re still asking me!
Are you just messing with me?”
“Oh, come on, I just wanted to hear some firsthand information from a ‘witness’~”
Cyrene blinked innocently, her self-righteous expression almost making the stall owner laugh in exasperation.
“Go on, get out of here.
There’s no firsthand information.
It was just a minor leak that’ll clear up in a few days.”
The stall owner clearly had no desire to waste any more time on this eccentric rich girl.
He snorted coldly, turned his back to Cyrene, and began banging the griddle with thunderous clangs, making his “refusal to communicate” stance perfectly clear.
Despite Cyrene’s subsequent soft-voiced questions like “Are there any unknown creatures inside?” or “Do strange noises come from there at night?”, he simply played deaf, not even bothering to turn his head.
“Hmm…
what a boring old man.”
Seeing that he had completely entered “ignore mode,” Cyrene shrugged, feeling a bit bored.
Might as well check the radar again, she thought.
With that, she stopped bothering the stall owner and turned around, casually shifting her gaze back to the silent chemical plant.
At the same time, with a mental command, she summoned the Xenos Detection Radar back into her vision.
She intended to reconfirm the Xeno’s position.
However, the moment she saw the radar interface, Cyrene’s previously relaxed expression froze instantly.
The crimson dot, which had been lingering at the edge of the radar just moments ago, had somehow crossed the central area and was now hurtling at incredible speed straight toward the radar’s center—her exact location!
The crimson light flashed urgently on the screen, like a countdown to the Death God’s arrival.
This speed…
Is it coming straight for me?!
Cyrene’s pupils constricted slightly, and a chill shot up her spine straight to the crown of her head.
Beep!
Beep!
Beep!
Just then, a sharp, urgent alarm suddenly blared, shattering the quiet between them.
The sound came from the stall owner’s waist.
The middle-aged man, who had been making pancakes just moments ago, paled instantly.
The street-smart persona he had feigned vanished without a trace.
“Damn it!
Why now of all times?!”
He threw down the spatula, not even bothering to wipe the grease from his hands, and pulled a dark, menacing pistol from a hidden compartment beneath the cart.
Click.
The dark muzzle instantly aimed toward the chemical plant.
“Get out of here!
Now!
Immediately!”
He roared at Cyrene with his back to her, his voice filled with unquestionable authority and urgency.
“I’m a police officer!
This area is now extremely dangerous.
If you don’t want to die, get the hell away!”