After listening to Ji Lin’s account, Tang Yunzhou provided a brief summary. It was sharp and blunt, causing Ji Lin’s expression to sour significantly. Nevertheless, Ji Lin nodded. One could certainly put it that way.
Thinking of this, Ji Lin’s gaze slowly shifted toward Li Sang. If he remembered correctly, hadn’t she mentioned she had a way to solve this?
At the moment their eyes met, Li Sang knew exactly what he was thinking. She blinked slowly, straightened her posture, and took two steps forward.
“It’s simple,” she said. “Two bowls of snail rice noodles will fix it.“
Wait, what?
The sophisticated technical terms Ji Lin had been bracing for never came. Instead, his mind went blank for a moment. Was it really… that crude and simple? Was there nothing else?
Ji Lin opened his mouth to ask for clarification, but someone else beat him to it. That “someone” was Jiang Taian. The moment he heard Li Sang’s “cure,” Jiang Taian’s head was filled with question marks. What on earth was Li Sang playing at?
But as ridiculous as the answer sounded to everyone present, it was the truth. Li Sang wasn’t making it up. In the logic of this world, it worked—precisely because the author had written it that way.
She thought for a moment and added, “Oh, and stinky tofu. You can have some of that if you like.”
The principle was actually quite simple: as long as it was pungent, it worked. It didn’t necessarily have to be something rotten.
When Li Sang had first read this part of the story, her expression had been identical to the faces staring at her now. Seriously? That works? Isn’t that a bit too absurd? But it was reality. In the original plot, after eating two large bowls of snail rice noodles, Ji Lin lost all interest in roadside garbage stations.
Notably, the noodles Ji Lin would eventually eat were from “Sister Xu’s Snail Rice Noodles”—made by Xu Jiao’s mother. It was a strange twist of fate. Since this was a world formed by the convergence of several protagonists’ stories, they were all interconnected in ways deep or shallow. In the later stages of the novel, whenever Ji Lin felt the urge to eat “trash,” Xu Jiao would personally cook snail rice noodles for him.
It was absurd, yet possessed a bizarre sort of internal logic.
Jiang Taian’s expression looked as though he had swallowed a fly. The way he stared at Li Sang became increasingly strange. Ji Lin, the man at the center of the issue, felt the same. He looked at Li Sang, his voice uncertain. “Is… is that true?”
Li Sang’s tone was matter-of-fact. “It’s true. Once you eat them, you’ll lose interest in garbage. It’s likely because your brain finally registers what those pungent smells actually taste like. You might get cravings later on, but that’s fine—just have another bowl when you do.”
“…”
The bizarre remedy left even the eccentric Tang Yunzhou speechless for a long time.
After an indeterminate amount of time passed, Li Sang finally spoke up. “So… should we head out?”
It was late. Tang Yunzhou desperately wanted to keep Ji Lin for observation, but for the sake of “sustainable development,” he suppressed his urges. He gave Ji Lin a light push toward Li Sang. “Take him with you. Bring him back to me tomorrow.”
Li Sang blinked. This wasn’t like Tang Yunzhou at all. Knowing Ji Lin didn’t need sleep, the professor was actually willing to let him go? Despite her confusion, Li Sang didn’t argue.
“Alright. Let’s go, teammate.”
Ji Lin caught the change in her address immediately. “Team…mate?”
How had he suddenly become a teammate? Li Sang realized she hadn’t told him the full story yet. After a moment of thought, she explained, “Orders from above. Anyone we recruit joins our squad unconditionally. So, welcome to Special Team 031. You’re one of us now.”
Li Sang extended her hand for a brief shake. Although the contact was muffled by heavy protective suits, Ji Lin felt a shift in the atmosphere. His voice held a hint of curiosity about their destination. “Where are we going next?”
“To our quarters,” she said, her brow furrowing slightly. “Nickname: The Demon’s Den.”
She didn’t know who had come up with the name, but it was certainly appropriate. Ji Lin didn’t understand what she meant at first, but the moment he stood before the building, the meaning became crystal clear.
It really did look like a demon’s lair.
It was a structure radiating a futuristic, cyberpunk vibe. The towering skyscraper was covered in dense, flickering screens displaying game advertisements and luxury brand promos. The lights were dazzlingly colorful and piercingly bright.
However, what truly earned it the name “Demon’s Den” wasn’t the neon lights, but the monstrous models placed everywhere. At the entrance, instead of traditional stone lions, stood two three-headed dogs. Each head featured three eyes—the third being a “heavenly eye” opened on the forehead.
Inside, Ji Lin looked up at the ceiling to see an octopus consisting of eighteen legs, two heads, and countless eyes. The creator had even simulated water trails on its skin, making it look as though it had just crawled out of the sea. There were also monsters with human legs and fish heads, eight-tailed cats, and three-headed chickens.
They were all models, but the sheer variety made the place feel like a gallery of the grotesque.
Noticing Ji Lin’s internal collapse, Li Sang shrugged helplessly. “Don’t be scared. We all had to get used to it.”
“…” Thanks, but I don’t feel comforted.
When Li Sang first entered, her reaction had been similar; she honestly thought the government had gone mad to build such a place for people to live in. Later, she learned it wasn’t the government—it was one specific person inside who was crazy.
These bizarre models were all the work of one man. Once he finished a piece, he would place it in a random corner, seemingly determined to scare everyone to death.
Why hadn’t they kicked the madman out? As the saying goes, there is a fine line between genius and insanity. This man was exactly that—a certifiable lunatic, but also a bona fide genius. No one wanted to discard such a talent, and the state was no exception. As long as he didn’t actually harm anyone, nobody stopped him.
Until Li Sang arrived.
Today was Li Sang’s fourth day living there. In that time, she had beaten that man three times. She didn’t hold back, either.
“See these? They’re all his handiwork,” Li Sang said, tilting her chin toward someone in the distance.
Suddenly, a sticky, slimy glob of something was hurled at her. The glob hit her squarely in the face, hung there for a second, and then slowly began to slide down, hitting the floor with a dull thud.
The hallway fell into an instant, deathly silence. Li Sang stood frozen, her expression unreadable, her voice turning cold as venom.
“You want to die?”