Reality Programming Association

Chapter 67: Chapter 28: Heavy Rain and Withdrawing the Case

”Yeah, it’s fine. You just play. I’ve... had enough sleep for today.” Yu Xian pulled the blackout curtain shut and lay down on his bed.

The light from his screen illuminated the small space behind the curtain, and only then did he notice an unread message.

”Yu Xian, did you make it back to the dorm? The rain’s so heavy, the flooding on the roads must be pretty bad. Also, remember to send me that audio file.” It was from Uncertainty Robot.

Yu Xian tapped on the screen, replying, ”Made it. Get some rest.” He sent her the audio file, then also sent a message to his cousin to let him know he was staying at the dorm tonight.

He put down his phone and stared at the blackout curtain above him.

Even though he had just told Shi Zuozhou that he’d ”had enough sleep,” his mental state was actually far from good.

In particular, the visceral fear of that white hell-dream made him intensely resistant to the very act of ”closing his eyes.”

He tried to convince himself that the login key was a one-time use. Since he wasn’t playing a new audio file, there was no way he would go back there.

Shi Zuozhou was still playing his game. The CLICK-CLACK of his mouse and keyboard was interspersed with a few muttered curses.

On the bed next to his, Zhang Yang was playing a mobile game. Li Boxue seemed to be on the phone with his girlfriend, his deep, rumbling voice carrying a hint of his Northeastern accent.

’This is what the real world is like.’

Yu Xian wondered if he should stay in the dorm more often. This noisy environment was, surprisingly, making him feel a little sleepy.

A wave of exhaustion washed over him, and he actually fell asleep.

He slept soundly, without even a single dream.

...

The next time he opened his eyes, he was woken by a wail of despair from Shi Zuozhou.

”The hell? Did the internet go down?”

Yu Xian groggily sat up and glanced at his phone. It was already ten in the morning the next day.

The dorm room was dim, as if it were evening.

Outside, the rain was coming down in torrents, looking as if it had the power to swallow the entire dorm building.

”The campus network is down! They’re trying to bore us to death in here!”

Shi Zuozhou had a miserable look on his face as he waved his phone around, searching for a signal.

Yu Xian got out of bed to wash up. The cold water cleared his head a little.

’There are too many people here in the dorm. I should still go back to my cousin’s place today and continue reading that paper.’

”Old Shi, I’m heading back to my cousin’s.”

He packed his backpack, making sure his laptop was wrapped tightly in a sealed bag.

”Huh? You’re going out in this downpour?” Shi Zuozhou looked at him in disbelief.

”Haven’t the subways stopped running? Are you gonna swim there?”

He then started humming a few lines, something like, ”Oh, what a joy, I should be swimming in the river wild,” and ”I’m swimming down the long street.”

”I saw the announcement. Line 4 is still running.” Yu Xian put on his thick-soled hiking boots, which were still a bit damp.

”The window over there might be leaking. I’m worried, so I have to go back and check.”

”Fine, fine. Be safe, then.” Shi Zuozhou waved a hand dismissively, his expression full of mock resentment.

”That’s men for you. Leaving right after they’re done sleeping.”

...

The journey back was even more difficult than he’d imagined.

The floodwater was nearly ankle-deep, a murky, yellow sludge. The subway station was packed with commuters who had no choice but to travel.

By the time Yu Xian finally shuffled his way to his cousin’s apartment, it was already past one in the afternoon.

The large construction pit had completely turned into a yellow pond, and half of the blue corrugated iron fence had collapsed.

He struggled up to the third floor and took out his key. Before he could even put it in the lock, the door opened.

”You’re back?”

Yu Zhengze stood in the doorway, a half-smoked cigarette pinched between his fingers.

His shirt was wrinkled, his dark circles were heavy, and he hadn’t shaved his stubble.

”Bro, what are you doing home?”

Yu Xian was surprised. He had thought his cousin would be busy until the rain stopped.

”Yeah, just got back. Came to change my clothes and catch a quick nap.”

Yu Zhengze stepped aside to let him in, took the umbrella from his hand, and tossed it onto the balcony.

”Hurry up and dry yourself off, you’re soaked. Have you eaten? If not, I’ll whip something up for you.”

After Yu Xian cleaned himself up and changed into dry clothes and slippers, his cousin had already placed a bowl of egg noodles on the dining table.

There was also a plastic bag on the table, containing a small jar of some kind, though he couldn’t see what was inside.

Yu Zhengze was leaning against the sofa, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his eyes closed.

Looking at his cousin’s exhausted state, Yu Xian contemplated how he could explain the TDI situation to him without making him worry.

Yu Xian knew very well that his cousin had always been overprotective of him.

Ever since his parents died in a car accident, Yu Zhengze wanted to keep him away from almost any kind of danger.

If he told his cousin about certain things, his reaction might not be to help investigate, but rather to directly restrict his movements to keep him from getting caught up in anything.

But he had to tell his cousin about this.

Sitting at the dining table, he lifted a few strands of noodles with his chopsticks, organizing his thoughts.

The last time they spoke on the phone, he had already told his cousin about his insomnia and how TDI could supposedly cure it. His cousin hadn’t paid it any mind back then, just telling him ”not to trust folk remedies.”

This meant that even though the police had investigated a lot of information about the deceased—like their habits and phone data—they hadn’t discovered the crucial clue of TDI.

Ever since waking up from that dream yesterday, he had been wondering why. Why hadn’t TDI caught the police’s attention?

He speculated that it might have been overlooked due to the audio file’s inconspicuous nature.

After all, to someone who didn’t know how to use it, the audio file was just a piano piece with some crackling static.

It didn’t convey any information, and if not played correctly, it wouldn’t have any real effect on whoever listened to it.

”Bro.”

Yu Xian put down his chopsticks. He wanted to say that plain egg noodles would have been fine; there was no need for so many complicated seasonings.