Chapter 12: The Cannibalistic Hot Pot Restaurant (Part One)

Initially, Labao was reluctant, but in the end, Zhu Ning used her “financial power” to purchase the service for ten thousand Singapore dollars. She added Labao as a friend and instructed it to send her any videos found within the past month. Labao, yielding to Zhu Ning’s charm value—no, her money power—agreed.

After leaving the junkyard, Zhu Ning chose to walk home. She had tested it herself; the walk took one hour and forty minutes, while taking a flying car would take only eight minutes.

On the day Zhu Ning was reborn, she had taken a potent healing agent before hailing the flying car home. She pulled up a map; this abandoned junkyard was the closest place to her residence without surveillance. There had to be a reason she chose the junkyard.

As Zhu Ning approached her home, she encountered Mrs. Wei just as she was coming downstairs, leaning on her cane after collecting rent.

For some reason, Zhu Ning felt uneasy at the sight of her. She recalled Mrs. Wei mentioning bouts of madness—not referring to the current Zhu Ning, but certainly the original owner.

How had the original owner gone mad?

Mrs. Wei must know something about the original owner. Zhu Ning thought about how to broach the topic smoothly, but before she could open her mouth, she shut it again. She couldn’t trust anyone right now.

If Mrs. Wei was connected to her death, speaking out would mean exposing herself.

Mrs. Wei glanced at her and said sarcastically, “I wondered where you got the money from. Turns out you’re riding on a golden branch.”

Zhu Ning was baffled.

Could she not make it sound like she had married into a wealthy family?

Mrs. Wei continued, “I see your luck’s too good. You even got into the Cleaning Center—the iron rice bowl.”

Zhu Ning was speechless.

Why did she sound so envious? To outsiders, the Cleaning Center was considered the most prestigious and comfortable job in District 103. Even those who swept garbage had an iron rice bowl.

Employee benefits were unparalleled. Once you became a full-time employee, you could enjoy free medical check-ups and subsidies after retirement. Joining the Federal Cleaning Center meant a stable and comfortable life thereafter.

Mrs. Wei said, “People from the Cleaning Center came looking for you, right at your doorstep.”

So that was how Mrs. Wei knew.

But looking for her? Zhu Ning barely knew anyone except Li Nianchuan and Xu Meng. Li Nianchuan was still undergoing treatment for mental pollution in the medical department.

“I’ll go up now,” Zhu Ning said.

She turned to leave, passing Mrs. Wei who was heading for the stairs.

From behind, Mrs. Wei suddenly warned, “Be careful.”

Zhu Ning paused, glanced back. Mrs. Wei, leaning on her cane, stood at the bottom of the stairs. Zhu Ning stood on the steps above. Mrs. Wei had dwarfism, so Zhu Ning’s vantage point was higher.

Mrs. Wei should have been looking up, but instead, she merely raised her eyes, revealing large, yellowed sclera, staring intently at Zhu Ning.

Be careful.

Careful of what? The Cleaning Center? Or others in the Hive? Was the district chief really problematic?

Zhu Ning wanted to ask more, but Mrs. Wei had already shuffled away on her cane. Zhu Ning silently climbed the stairs.

Sure enough, as Mrs. Wei said, a man was waiting at her doorstep.

He wore a full set of workwear with the Cleaning Center logo and carried a huge black suitcase, resembling a courier.

“Miss Zhu,” the man smiled, “I’m here to collect the contract.”

Someone from the Cleaning Center had mentioned that after formal employment, someone would come to collect the contract. Zhu Ning checked the man’s employee ID and verified it with her wristband.

He was a formal employee.

Zhu Ning handed him the contract. After receiving it, the man passed the suitcase to Zhu Ning, tied with a large bow.

“Miss Zhu, congratulations on joining. This is your welcome gift.”

A welcome gift? The oversized suitcase could easily hide an adult. Zhu Ning recalled horror movies—was there a corpse inside?

The man was efficient, leaving immediately without small talk.

Once he was gone, Zhu Ning opened the suitcase.

She was speechless.

Inside lay a full set of standard-issue weapons, vastly different from the airsoft grenades used on previous missions. There were four guns, a full set of military combat knives, and explosives.

Beneath the weapons was a protective suit tailored for cleaners—black leather with helmet, tools for containing pollution spores, and even potent healing agents.

In other words, with this suitcase, Zhu Ning could operate independently from the Cleaning Center.

She tried loading a gun; there was no obstruction. The weapons weren’t locked, meaning Zhu Ning could use them without Center approval.

This was completely out of character for the Cleaning Center. Even with restructuring, this was a drastic change.

Zhu Ning checked the Center’s forum, searching for “employee gifts.” Most posts mentioned insulated mugs, chrysanthemum wolfberry kidney supplements, or straight cash bonuses. After paging through two pages, she hadn’t found another case of someone receiving a whole box of standard weapons.

Who sent this? Prometheus?

Why would it send her such a "gift"? To help it destroy the Cleaning Center headquarters?

Feeling uneasy about the suitcase full of weapons, Zhu Ning’s first instinct was to contact Fang Ying.

Fang Ying was the Center’s assistant and knew best whether receiving such a box was proper procedure. But after opening the chat window, Zhu Ning hesitated.

She couldn’t tell her.

Zhu Ning couldn’t judge Fang Ying’s true nature. The more people who knew, the greater the risk. This was dangerous not only for Zhu Ning but also for Fang Ying.

Before Zhu Ning could say anything, Fang Ying messaged first: “Congratulations on joining. Welcome to the District 103 Cleaning Center.”

Zhu Ning paused, then sent an emoji back: “Looking forward to working with you.”

She was playing the part of a normal new employee.

Fang Ying replied, “I’m surprised by your choice.”

They exchanged a few pleasantries, then Zhu Ning asked, “Did you receive the contract?”

“Just delivered,” Fang Ying answered.

So the young man really came to collect the contract.

Zhu Ning then asked, “Are there any missions coming up?”

She couldn’t immediately find the truth behind her death. Labao would take time to locate surveillance footage. She couldn’t just stay home idle.

Fang Ying replied, “No rush. I’ve applied for seven days of leave for you.”

Zhu Ning, used to the 996 work culture, was stunned: “What kind of company gives one day on and seven days off? And forces you to take leave?”

Fang Ying explained, “It’s not my rule. The Cleaning Center requires at least seven days between missions as a buffer, mainly to protect employees’ mental health.”

Although this precaution didn’t really apply to Zhu Ning, rules were rules.

Fang Ying added, “However, after seven days, you still won’t be assigned missions. The Center is currently restructuring. I’ll notify you when it’s time for employee training.”

It sounded like internal upheaval was underway, but as a low-level employee, Zhu Ning didn’t need to know the details.

She sent a sticker and closed the chat.

Accustomed to the exploitation of her previous world, suddenly encountering a company that granted leave felt strange. Zhu Ning could only begrudgingly idle at home.

She did what all homebodies do—browsed online forums out of boredom.

The Cleaning Center’s employee forum was very active. Zhu Ning had thought the discussions would be scientific, if not entirely serious.

Unexpectedly, the atmosphere inside was very “esoteric.” She came across a post titled, “Midnight Grave Posts! Newbies Stay Away!”

Grave posts? What were those?

Zhu Ning thought they referred to old posts resurrected after years, though she wasn’t sure if it was the same as “grave posts” in the wasteland world.

After skimming two pages, she roughly understood. Cleaning Center employees browsing the forum after midnight would sometimes encounter “grave posts” on gray pages.

The gray color indicated the poster was presumed dead.

Logically, someone deceased couldn’t post anymore. Even if they had posted before death, their posts would be buried by the flood of new content.

But those who saw grave posts could receive messages from the dead. Writers claimed they had received messages from people who died seven years ago.

How… supernatural? Wasn’t this a world of advanced technology? Did Cleaning Center employees really believe in this?

The grave post tradition had long been established among the Center’s staff. They agreed that reaching the location described in a grave post meant entering a contaminated zone. The grave post was a signal sent by the pollutants.

Reactions to receiving messages from the dead varied greatly.

Some believed these were the dead’s lingering grudges. Since they knew, they should eliminate them. The dead were asking for help, and capable employees could try, especially since killing pollutants earned rewards.

For some, grave posts represented side jobs.

Others believed the posts were traps. Pollutants sent out distress signals to lure people into contaminated zones to devour them, turning them into kin.

Many employees entered and never returned, becoming part of the pollutants. Grave posts might be the pollutants’ method of feeding.

Late at night, Zhu Ning grew excited browsing the posts—it felt like a freshman orientation party, both terrifying and thrilling.

The clock showed 11:59 PM, just one minute before grave posts would appear.

Refresh—

The clock jumped from 11:59 to 12:00. Zhu Ning clicked refresh.

The forum homepage updated, but all post titles were in color—no gray grave posts appeared.

She frantically refreshed, like racing for free giveaways during a shopping festival. One minute passed with nothing.

So it was indeed a superstition—it depended on luck.

Just as Zhu Ning was about to close the page, she froze. A gray post had appeared on the colorful forum homepage.

Its title read, “Hidden in a small alley of District 103, a must-try fly restaurant—spicy lovers hurry!”

It looked like a food recommendation, nothing special. Zhu Ning clicked the link. Suddenly, the screen glitched, as if stuttering.

Two seconds later, the glitch ended, revealing the full food post page. Beneath the long title, the post date was visible: Year 50 of the New Calendar.

After the world suffered radiation eighty years ago, high walls and a new world order were established, adopting a new calendar. The New Calendar Year 50 marked the fiftieth year after the radiation event.

That meant the post was over thirty years old.

Zhu Ning didn’t know if it was good or bad luck, but she had just stumbled upon a post more than three decades old. The entire page was gray, including several attached food photos.