“…You misunderstood,” Jake chuckled helplessly.
He could hardly imagine what this poor guy must have gone through to react like that…
He pointed at the motorcycle beside him.
“Brother, mind helping me push this bike downstairs?” The delivery guy finally noticed the bike.
He didn’t know much about motorcycles, but he could tell this thing was something else.
Streamlined frame, a custom exhaust pipe, and tires significantly wider than those on a standard bike—it looked heavy as lead.
“Are you dreaming?” The delivery guy refused outright.
“There’s no elevator in this dump!
I nearly died climbing up here, and you want me to help push a bike down?
Not even a dog would take this job!” Right on cue, a notification chime echoed from his phone: [User tipped 100 yuan] “How about now?” Jake asked, waving his phone.
“Deal!” The delivery guy glanced at the notification, his face instant sunshine.
“If a dog won’t do it, I will!” He shoved the milk tea into Jake’s arms, rolled up his sleeves, walked over to the bike, and gripped the handlebars to gauge its weight.
“Holy crap, why is it so heavy?
Where’d you get this thing?” “It belongs to my landlord,” Jake lied without batting an eye.
“Your landlord?” The delivery guy strained to push the bike, muttering in confusion.
“Then why isn’t he pushing it himself?” “He doesn’t live here.
The bike’s been sitting here for ages, and it was getting in my way.” “I see…” The delivery guy struggled to move the motorcycle toward the stairwell, panting heavily from the exertion.
When they reached the landing corner…
“Holy shit!” he suddenly stopped.
“Are those bullet holes?” “My landlord was pretty wild in his youth, messing around with weapons,” Jake trailed behind him, continuing his solemn nonsense.
“Those bullet holes are from back then.” “A gangster…?” The delivery guy glanced at him with a mix of belief and suspicion, then continued pushing while asking, “Why’s there an American flag sticker on it?” “Worshipping foreign stuff, obviously.” Jake put on a righteous, indignant expression.
“I’ve been annoyed by him for a long time!” The delivery guy had a sudden revelation and stopped asking questions.
Two men and one bike huffed and puffed their way down from the fifth floor to the first.
By the time they finally hauled the motorcycle out to the building entrance, the delivery guy was leaning against the wall, gasping for air, a layer of sweat glistening on his forehead.
“Now I know why you didn’t push it yourself…” *This isn’t a job for humans…* “I have heart disease, so I can’t do strenuous exercise.” Jake swung a leg over the motorcycle and turned the key.
The dashboard lit up, showing a half-full tank of gas.
The delivery guy froze.
So it wasn’t just laziness?
When he spoke again, his tone held a bit more sympathy.
“You have heart disease and your family still lets you rent a place out here alone?” Jake paused mid-motion as he put on his helmet, his tone devoid of emotion.
“I grew up in an orphanage.” “???” *An orphan with a heart condition, living in a rundown rental, bullied by a gangster landlord?!* The delivery guy looked at Jake sitting on the bike—his thin frame, cheap clothes, the dilapidated residential building behind him, and the rust-eaten door of that fifth-floor apartment.
Then he looked at the 100-yuan tip on his phone screen and suddenly felt the money burning a hole in his hand.
*Sigh, life really isn’t easy for anyone…* Just to clear out a trashy bike left behind by a gangster landlord, the poor guy had to spend his own money hiring help.
*Ptui!
That landlord really is a scumbag!* While the delivery guy was inwardly fuming, Jake revved the throttle.
*Vroom—!* The roar of the engine exploded through the narrow alley, startling a flock of sparrows into the air.
Jake looked back at the delivery guy, gave him a nod by way of goodbye, and twisted the throttle, sending the bike shooting forward.
…
The afternoon in Haicheng was stiflingly humid.
Jake stepped out of the bank and stood on the concrete steps, staring blankly at the diner across the street.
His mobile banking app displayed a balance of 14,432.50 yuan.
Since the cash was real, there was a nine-out-to-ten chance the guns and grenades were real too.
Jake’s heart beat a little faster.
Those things could not be seen by anyone…
He mounted the 6th Street motorcycle, revved the engine, and merged into the flow of traffic.
The aggressive rumble of the engine stood out sharply against the sea of local electric scooters, drawing hostile glares from several riding grandpas.
Jake ignored them.
His mind was completely consumed by that game.
In Cyberpunk 2077, there was a cyberware implant called the [Second Heart].
Even the cheapest mass-produced version would allow him to live like a normal human being.
If he could get his hands on one…
Jake shook his head.
That was something that required surgery to implant.
Where was he going to find a ripperdoc in the real world?
Vik wasn’t in Haicheng.
Red light.
Jake pulled to a stop beside a bus.
An advertisement wrapped around the bus body displayed a promotional slogan for a local hospital: [Thoracic Surgery: Minimally Invasive Surgery, Precision Treatment] “Surgery…” Jake stared at the small printed text, dazed.
The game’s currency could be brought into reality and successfully exchanged.
Money was no longer a problem for him…
The light turned green.
Jake twisted the throttle to the max, leaving the bus far behind as he sped back toward his apartment.
…
Inside the game.
The motorcycle was parked in an abandoned factory district in North Watson.
David leaned against a wall covered in graffiti, his fingers still trembling slightly.
He could move.
He could actually move again.
He raised his hand, clenched it into a fist, and unclenched it.
The scrape on his palm radiated a sharp, realistic pain, but that pain gave him an unprecedented sense of relief.
“Whew…” David let out a long breath and slowly slid down against the wall into a sitting position.
That brief period just now had been harder to endure than his time at Arasaka Academy.
Having his body piloted like a puppet—watching himself kill people and steal a bike while unable to even close his eyes—was horrifying.
What on earth was that?
A netrunner?
A hallucination?
Or…
David clutched the cross pendant hanging at his chest, as if drawing courage from the ornament.
That lunatic could come back at any moment.
He had to figure out what was going on before that happened…
Instead of taking immediate action, he placed a call first.
“David?!” Gloria’s face appeared before him via holo-call.
She had been about to call David to ask about the academy and the implant, only to receive a call from him first.
“Mom,” he said softly.
“Where are you right now?” Gloria didn’t blow up at him right away.
David was a good, sensible kid.
She didn’t believe he would take that implant for no reason.
She was waiting for his explanation.
“The school has an event…” David didn’t answer directly.
Instead, he stared at an ant crawling across the ground, lying with a blank expression.
“A field practice thing.
It’ll take a few days, so I might not come home for a while.” “What kind of event?” “Just…
the kind that builds leadership skills.
Arasaka Academy does them all the time, you know.” “I haven’t heard about it.” “It was short notice.” Another pause of silence.
“David.” She didn’t press further about the event, but instead asked softly, “Is it because of that implant?” David opened his mouth, hesitated for a long moment, and ultimately chose to play dumb: “What implant?
Haha.” “You…” “Mom, I gotta go, time to assemble.” David disconnected the call, and the holographic projection vanished.
Gloria stared at the traffic-choked street, David’s face seemingly still lingering before her eyes.
He was lying.
The boy hadn’t gone to school at all.
David had taken the Militech implant, skipped school today, and then called to say he wasn’t coming home…
He was in deep trouble!
Gloria’s eyes shifted from panic to resolve.
She scrolled through her contacts list and stopped at a name: Maine.
She had originally stolen that implant to sell it to Maine.
Now that David’s situation was tied to that implant, letting Maine handle it was the best option.
She dialed the number.
“Beep…
beep…”