New clothes, of course, had to be rinsed in water before wearing.
There was a hanging clothes rack on the balcony; when the building was constructed, hooks were left in the ceiling to tie ropes and hold drying rods.
Bai Bai touched the drying rod and hangers. The original owner didn’t wash clothes often, so the clothes rack had gathered a layer of dust.
Thus, she wiped and washed the drying tools once more, duplicated a few more clothes hangers, and finally managed to squeeze and hang all the wet clothes.
Drying them overnight at the current temperature meant they would be ready to be gathered before daybreak, preventing neighbors in the building behind from seeing too much.
Bai Bai swung her arms; she was thoroughly exhausted tonight.
The basins and buckets were all stowed into her space. The dirty water was easy to handle—tomorrow when she went out, she could dump it anywhere in a wild patch of ground.
The duplicated basins and buckets wouldn’t disappear, so they could be kept and used continuously.
Out of four 5-gallon water jugs, she had opened the second one. The remaining two were promptly multiplied by Bai Bai—two into four, four into eight, eight into sixteen—stockpiling a sufficient quantity.
With this large pile of miscellaneous goods, she suddenly realized her 3-cubic-meter space felt quite cramped.
During the daytime, she had thought the space was pretty big, but now she wanted to copy someone else’s space again to expand her own.
Because empty 5-gallon water jugs could be returned to the water station for a refund, much like returning glass beer bottles for cash or exchanging them for fresh beer.
The grocery stores served as distributors for the water station. With water being so expensive, the store boss would definitely remember who the local regulars were; Bai Bai naturally couldn’t walk into a trap.
She wanted to save up a batch of empty jugs and head to the water station to cash them all out in one go.
Under this plan, she didn’t need to skimp on using water, but at the same time, her demand for spatial volume was substantial.
The stove fire was still burning. Bai Bai added another stick into it, thoroughly scrubbed the original owner’s daily water-boiling pot clean, and cooked herself a serving of mixed-vegetable soup rice.
It was made using the boxed meals she had obtained during the day: pouring in half a box of cold rice, adding water to boil, then pouring in half a box of meat-and-vegetable stir-fry, and cooking until the excess water had mostly boiled down.
After enjoying this delicious, hot late-night snack, she washed the pot, extinguished the fire, and fetched a small blanket from the box of daily sundries. Using it as a template, she duplicated another one, covered her stomach with it, and fell asleep right then and there.
A dreamless, sound sleep—when she opened her eyes, the morning light had yet to show.
Bai Bai bounded up and first went to the balcony to feel her clothes. Sure enough, they were all completely dry. She gathered them all immediately, duplicated them specifically a few times, and wrapped them up in a new blanket.
In the future, she could wear them directly without having to go through the trouble of washing them first.
Dressed in clean underwear and a short-sleeved top, with new socks on her feet, her outer jacket, pants, and shoes remained the old ones.
Disguises had to look believable; otherwise, she would become the protagonist of the local gossip.
Pulling out a toothbrush and tooth powder, she brushed her teeth meticulously, spitting the dirty water into the bucket. After washing her face, she cooked another serving of mixed-vegetable soup rice for breakfast. By then, it was bright daylight outside.
Full of vigor, she started a new day.
Surveying her home, there was nothing that would give her away. Just as she was about to step out, Bai Bai suddenly recalled something. She pulled a pen out from her space and gently drew a stroke of the character “正” in an inconspicuous corner at the foot of the bed.
Today was the third day since transmigrating, so three strokes of the character “正” were drawn.
Leaving a record.
When the day came that she stopped drawing, it would mean she had completely integrated into this world.
Through the thin door panel, she could clearly hear the sounds of neighbors stepping out and greeting each other in the hallway.
Bai Bai waited patiently for a while, stepping out and heading downstairs only after it quieted down outside.
Although she possessed the original owner’s memories, wasn’t it better to save on unnecessary pleasantries whenever possible?
Living in the tenement building complex meant playing the role of the original owner; only moving out would mark the start of her own life.
Reaching the first floor, she used the public restroom first.
When she came out to wash her hands, she muttered as she washed that for the sake of restroom freedom, she had to earn money and move out as soon as possible.
Wiping her hands on her rear, Bai Bai walked out of the unit entrance and saw a young boy at the complex’s main gate sniffing passersby as they entered and exited.
She immediately recalled who this kid was.
He possessed an Enhanced Smell ability with an exceptionally sharp nose, practically a human hound. He could sniff out anyone who had good food on them; even hiding it inside spatial storage was useless, as the faint residual scent on one’s body couldn’t fool him.
The original owner hated him because every time they crossed paths, this kid would mock her for being a broke pauper.
Naturally, Bai Bai disliked him too.
However, she didn’t dislike his ability.
An enhanced sense of smell, huh?
Bai Bai quickly sensed her own mental energy. After a good night’s sleep, her mind was in top shape, and with that kid currently using his ability, Bai Bai copied it with total naturalness after stepping a few paces closer.
The very next second, she smelled the faint aroma of mixed-vegetable soup rice on herself.
It was extremely faint—so faint that she hadn’t smelled it while inside her room.
Yet with her enhanced sense of smell, she picked it right up.
Bai Bai immediately pivoted her steps and walked toward the other side of the main gate, keeping her distance from that brat.
This kid pulled this routine at the main gate every day because his family spoiled him. Whenever he sniffed out someone with good food, he would throw a tantrum on the ground until he got a bite, and the adults in his family acted as accomplices.
The fact that this kid was still alive after two years in the apocalypse was entirely because someone in their family was part of an adventure team. From the day they moved in, they kept claiming their family was about to move into a better complex soon, though over a year had passed without a single sign of movement.
After pulling away in time, Bai Bai noticed that the kid hadn’t smelled her, showing that his olfactory range wasn’t far—it didn’t even cover the small perimeter of the main gate.
Bai Bai laughed wildly in her heart and hurried along her way.
Passing by the rice ball stall, Bai Bai paused to join the queue, intending to buy two as snacks to eat whenever she grew tired on her delivery routes.
The people in line were all neighbors, gossiping away.
The main subject was none other than the Lulu Tong gang.
“Hey, hey, did you hear? Didn’t the police station summon everyone from Lulu Tong yesterday? Not a single one of them was seen coming back this morning!”
“Ah, I wondered what that was about! The shopkeepers on the street have already leaked word that they won’t cooperate with Lulu Tong anymore.”
“Whoa, the shopkeepers reacted that strongly? Didn’t they say there was only a confession and no concrete proof?”
“Shopkeepers are running businesses—do they care whether there’s concrete proof? Just the rumors alone are terrifying enough. If there really were concrete proof, would they still be a legitimate transportation team? Wouldn’t that make them a criminal gang?”
“Exactly, exactly! The bottom tier is a fiercely competitive market with transportation teams everywhere. Just in our complex alone, Lulu Tong isn’t the only one—there are several others, and they’ve long gone off to carve up the territory.”
“Taking advantage of this chaotic period, freelancer couriers can enjoy a couple of good days.”
The person who said this turned his head, perhaps intentionally, to glance at Bai Bai, who was queuing behind him.
Bai Bai looked up at the rice ball stall, pretending to be distracted by evaluating how many people were ahead of her, as if she weren’t paying attention to the gossip.
There was no helping it—it wasn’t that she was deliberately pretending to be deaf, but rather that her enhanced sense of smell came with a side effect: the sour, rancid BO from everyone in the queue kept wafting into her nose in waves.
She was almost about to throw up.
Fortunately, half a minute later it was Bai Bai’s turn. Buying two rice balls, she hurried away, only taking a breath once she was far off.
This sensory-enhancement type of superpower was great, but controlling its toggle was a must—it couldn’t just remain automatically active when not in use.
She had nearly suffocated just now.