Night’s Nomenclature-Chapter 2

The middle-aged woman quickly walked up to the Fulai Supermarket’s entrance and looked at the old man, “Mr. Zhang, why is Qing Chen playing chess with you again?”

From the tone of her words, the two of them knew each other.

The old man responded in a tone that wasn’t nearly as polite, “He is your son, why are you asking me? He ran out of money, so he’s playing chess just to earn a little to feed himself.”

The middle-aged woman, Zhang Wanfang, was stunned to hear this, “But I wire his father his living expenses every month.”

This response also came as a surprise to the old man, “Then I don’t know what’s going on anymore.”

The old man thought to himself, Zhang Wanfang isn’t poor at all, and from what he can tell, she must have given Qing Chen plenty of money every month. How come there always seems to be a shortage of money?

Qing Chen doesn’t look like a spoiled kid that will spend his money on useless things. Every day he calculates his expenses carefully, and he never even goes out to buy himself drinks.

“But isn’t he supposed to be still in school until the evening?” Zhang Wanfang asked.

Suddenly remembering what Qing Chen said, the old man replies, “I think he said that he’s waiting for someone.”

“No, I must check upon him,” said Zhang Wanfang

She was about to walk away with the cake still in her hand, but the man beside her interjected, “Wanfang, today is Haohao’s birthday. I’ve already reserved seats for dinner, and after that, we still have to take him to the movies!”

Zhang Wanfang looked back at the man, “Qing Chen is probably skipping classes again. I have to at least go see what’s happening.”

“He’s already seventeen, he should be able to take care of himself. Besides, his own father is still there,” The man paused and said slowly, “Fine, how about you go see him this weekend, and today, we will just spend our time with Haohao?”

Zhang Wanfang frowned, but after a few seconds she sighed and said, “Okay, today is for Haohao’s birthday.”

…

In the City Hall West employee’s residential area, Qing Chen quietly walked upon the lonely pathway that was completely covered under a tree canopy.

Unlike the skyscrapers of modern cities, this residential area was packed with four-story buildings hastily built in the 1970s. There were no elevators and no gas, and the sewers were clogged from time to time.

High-power electrical appliances were not allowed in the houses, because the electrical circuit would trip easily.

Qing Chen walked through the dim doorway, ignoring the lock-opening and house-selling posters covering the walls. He took out a key and opened a door on the first floor.

The apartment is only 76-square-meters1, and the rooms were poorly lit since it was on the first floor.

He took out his phone and opened contacts, then clicked on a number…

“Hey, Dad…”

Before he could say anything else, the person already interrupted him, “Go to your mom for living expenses. I’m broke, and she’s loaded.”

While the person spoke, there were sounds of mahjong2 playing from the other side of the phone.

“I don’t want money,” said Qing Chen in a low voice, “I haven’t asked you for money for a long time now.”

“Then what?” The man said impatiently, “teacher-parent conference again? Go ask your mother, I’m too busy for…”

Before the other side could finish, Qing Chen had already hung up.

He gently leaned against the closed front door, then rolled up his school uniform’s jacket sleeves.

He stared blankly at the white numbers marked on his forearm that looked like an LCD screen: Countdown 5:58:13.

The white numbers were like fluorescent tattoos embedded in his flesh and skin. No matter how much he rubbed them, there was no way to erase them.

Looking closely at the numbers, Qing Chen also saw fine lines interconnecting and forming a pattern, like a mechanical part for some futuristic technology.

The numbers silently but ever presently ticked down.

Countdown 5:58:12.

Countdown 5:58:11.

There were only 5 hours, 58 minutes, and 11 seconds left. Seemingly reminding Qing Chen that in about 5 hours and 58 minutes, something incredible would happen.

Even though there was no sound, Qing Chen could feel the ticking of the seconds in his heart.

Qing Chen glanced at the phone that he just hung up, then at the empty room.

He didn’t know what kind of life he would be facing in 5 hours and 58 minutes. He only knew that the person he could depend on was himself.

…

Time was a heavy unit of measurement. It could be used to measure the length of one’s life and the span of civilization.

The concept of time exists in everyone’s life.

So whenever there was a countdown in your life, no matter what it was counting down for, you would feel a sense of urgency.

Only 5 hours left. No one knew what this would lead to.

Danger?

Another life?

Qing Chen wasn’t sure, so he could only prepare for the worst.

He must be ready before the countdown ends.

If it was a real danger, then he must at least allow himself to fight it to the best of his abilities.

Qing Chen put on a clean gray coat and covered his face with the shadow of his hood.

Under the darkness of the night…

He went out and walked toward the farmer’s market. It was October, and the sky on top of Luo City was almost completely dark.

There was the sound of cooking coming from the residential buildings. After the popping sound of vegetables placed in oil, a gust of alluring smell came wafting out.

The aroma of eggs, pork, and lamb flooded Qing Chen’s mind like strands of data. If and when he needed this information late, he could extract them from an “archive” in his memory.

He bought a wrench and a shovel from a hardware store, then some rice, flour, and table salt from a grocery store.

He also bought several boxes of antibiotics from the drugstore and got batteries, flashlights, and some hardtack biscuits from a supermarket.

Since he didn’t know what he would be facing, Qing Chen decided to prepare for every possible scenario.

Buying all these supplies took almost all of Qing Chen’s savings.

As soon as Qing Chen got home, he first went to the kitchen and took out all his available knives, placing them in convenient locations around the house.

A kitchen knife was placed under his pillow and the boning knife on his nightstand.

The countdown was now 2 hours, 43 minutes, and 11 seconds.

He checked all the doors and windows to make sure everything was closed and locked. Then he sat on his bed, wondering if he needed a helper.

But who can help him?

His mother had a new family, his father was a gambling addict.

When Qing Chen first found a countdown on his arm a few hours ago, the seventeen-year-old instinctively wanted to seek help from his parents.

But he quickly eliminated that idea.

Qing Chen took out his phone and tried to take a photo of the white countdown on his arm, only to find that the white lines, which were clearly visible to his eyes, did not appear in the picture he took.

In the dim room, he didn’t open any lights. The windows were not made to be soundproof, so living on the first floor, he could often hear the footsteps of people walking outside.

The footsteps from outside and his breathing inside the house; everything was so quiet yet weird.

Facing this kind of extraordinary event, he felt it would be useless to ask ordinary people for help, not to mention that he didn’t have many good friends in school.

Even if he did, he shouldn’t bring ordinary people into this.

Therefore, if he needed help, it must be someone extraordinary.

Wait, Qing Chen suddenly thought of something. He got up and searched around the living room.

Two minutes later, he was silently looking at the Guanyin Bodhisattva3 statue in his hands.

Then he placed it in front of him and bowed nine times.

The final preparation was complete.

Translated by: Summit

Edited by: UnderTheMoon, Tempest