In the forbidden area, sleeplessness is destined for some.
In the lobby of Zone 01, there hangs a digital display.
What it shows is not the time, but the psychic threshold of Subject 001.
Once the value exceeds 200, it signifies that Subject 001’s condition is extremely unstable, triggering an immediate air raid alarm, alerting everyone to quickly be on guard and evacuate.
In the lobby, the military personnel, standing by in strict formation, along with the therapy experts who had escaped from the forbidden area last night, all watched the display: Finally, after a whole night, the numbers gradually returned to normal, turning back to green.
Everyone breathed a sigh of relief.
As for the cannon fodder who accidentally entered the forbidden area—
Chen Sheng sighed lightly: “Go check her identity.”
Death is like the snuffing out of a lamp; no amount of talking can change that. All that’s left is to apply for a substantial pension for consolation and material compensation.
Chen Sheng took off his hat, and the other alphas also removed their military caps, facing the direction of the elevator and observed three minutes of silence, giving a solemn military salute to the unfortunate one.
Such misfortune—
So thought the alphas.
But perhaps due to everyone staying up all night, the next second, they suddenly found that the elevator door had opened.
Shu Tang, who had been arranged compensation, walked out.
As she passed the group of workers, she tucked her hands warmly and greeted them enthusiastically: “Good morning!”
The alphas: ??
Why is she out?
She didn’t die?
How did she manage that!
A person, shocked into stuttering, couldn’t help but ask, “How did you get out?”
Someone else, pointing at her and trembling, said, “Last night, last night, you, you, you…”
Shu Tang patiently answered each question:
“I came out using the elevator.”
There’s only one exit here.
“Last night, I slept quite well,” Shu Tang complained, “but the power department hasn’t done maintenance for a long time, so the air conditioning couldn’t be turned on. I nearly froze to death.”
As Shu Tang finished speaking, she noticed that all the people present were staring at her, their eyes filled with shock and confusion.
Shu Tang felt a bit wronged: What, can’t even interns complain about the electricity?
After saying this, Shu Tang glanced at her communicator: “Let’s chat next time, I’m off to work.”
Ah, it’s really tough being at the bottom of the food chain in the workplace!
She was like every unlucky person who gets docked pay for being late to work, hurriedly saying goodbye before leaving.
Because they were too shocked, the many people present didn’t even manage to stop Shu Tang before she disappeared.
Eventually, Shu Tang sprinted into the emergency department just in time, saving her two hundred yuan.
Shu Tang: That was close!
…
Unbeknownst to Shu Tang, shortly after she left, a conversation centered around her quickly took place.
The experts who had failed to enter the restricted area the day before were very excited and wanted to capture Shu Tang immediately to find out the details, especially how she had managed to survive, which was crucial for them—
This could be the key to approaching and controlling the psychic unrest related to “001”!
But soon, these experts were stopped by Chen Sheng.
Chen Sheng, deeply strategic and decisive, said:
“No, don’t go looking for her yet. From now on, no one is allowed to leak any information!”
He signaled with his eyes, and his adjutant immediately took control of the experts.
Chen Sheng: “First, find out her background thoroughly, then keep an eye on her, and make sure no information gets out.”
Not long ago, they were still trapped in a dilemma, with no way to tackle the forbidden area.
But Shu Tang’s appearance had inadvertently become the only turning point.
Perhaps it was her good luck, or perhaps it was just because the instigator of the unrest had a moment of clarity, but she was the only one who had approached the instigator and had not died—a chance to break the deadlock.
The adjutant hesitated for a moment then asked, “Should we tell Director Qiu?”
Chen Sheng pondered for a moment before decisively saying, “Keep it a secret for now!”
“The sanatorium is a mix of all sorts, not just military personnel, but also infiltrators from other factions.”
“Even within the Federation, not everyone wishes for the Founder (Yuanxun) to regain consciousness.”
A military deterrence so immense it was beyond imagination had been the Federation’s stabilizing anchor for many years and was also a thorn in many people’s sides.
Not to mention, as time passes, things change; ten years have gone by, and the situation has already shifted.
—With this thought, any excitement he felt was quenched like cold water had been thrown over him, and he calmed down completely.
Chen Sheng didn’t dare to take risks.
Moreover, he faintly realized: the Founder, waking up after ten years, underwent many uncontrollable changes, almost beyond what humans could comprehend.
He looked up at the gloomy sky outside, feeling as if a heavy stone was pressing down on his heart.
…
Meanwhile, Shu Tang, who was pinned with high hopes, was in a morning meeting.
The head of the emergency department where Shu Tang worked was Director Zhou, a middle-aged male alpha who loved to scold people. Every morning, he would scold all the interns. However, whenever he scolded her, Shu Tang would daydream, hands in pockets. After several instances, Director Zhou realized his words didn’t affect her and stopped scolding her, opting instead for sarcastic comments during morning meetings.
This morning, Shu Tang indeed heard her references:
“Certain interns,” “a very few,” “and even worse.”
Shu Tang let it go in one ear and out the other:
Alas, she didn’t know if she could get off work on time today; if she worked late, she wouldn’t be able to meet the mermaid.
Director Zhou on the podium scolded, “Some alphas, always just on time for work, where’s their medical ethics!”
Shu Tang thought: She’s planning to treat an overlooked mermaid she encountered, how’s that for medical ethics!
Indeed, whether as his matching alpha or as a therapist, Shu Tang wasn’t going to ignore him.
From yesterday’s medical records, she realized that no one was attending to the mermaid’s condition. Psychic outbursts without timely treatment could easily worsen or even become life-threatening.
Shu Tang decided she must give him a thorough examination next time and bring him some medicine.
—And also file a complaint against the inactive therapists in Zone 01.
“Some interns, I mean some feline alphas!”
Shu Tang thought of the mermaid, now abandoned by both the hospital and his family, uncared for.
—No, before her next visit, she’d need to stop by the supermarket first.
Although the ‘Bastille’ looks luxurious, there’s nothing inside—not even food, let alone blankets or pillows. Shu Tang was so tired yesterday that she fell asleep without noticing, but now her neck has started to hurt.
It seems like the fish slept sitting up yesterday. Just thinking about it made Shu Tang’s neck and back hurt together.
—Looks like I need to buy a pillow and blanket too.
Such a young fish shouldn’t end up with scoliosis.
Shu Tang thought: Might as well make a list.
At this moment, all the alphas present turned their heads to look at Shu Tang.
“Some interns, thinking just because they’ve matched with an omega, can be fearless and reckless. Do you think it’s that easy to marry an omega? And always clocking in at the last minute—this kind of work attitude will sooner or later be frowned upon by their families!”
Director Zhou spoke with a pointed tone, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
Shu Tang was baffled: What did he just say?
The crowd below chuckled quietly.
Director Zhou immediately glared at Shu Tang, angrily shifting his target.
After the meeting, Shu Tang began a busy day as an intern.
Honestly, Shu Tang thought that after entering the world of ABO, becoming a spirit entity, she wouldn’t necessarily shake her body and massacre on all sides; she expected some extraordinary adventures. But in reality, ordinary people who travel to other worlds remain ordinary.
Work if you have to work, study if you have to study.
In this world, everyone faces immense survival pressures. Alphas do go to the front lines in polluted areas, but the standards are very high. Most alphas stay in safe zones, working in logistics, healthcare, and other relatively dangerous industries; most omegas are rooted in the entertainment industry; and betas, due to their large population ratio, do everything and are dubbed the ultimate workers.
For interns, at the very bottom of the workplace hierarchy, the pressure is even greater.
Moreover, this year Shu Tang also needs to prepare for her therapist qualification exam; she is truly dizzyingly busy.
Interns like Shu Tang, who haven’t yet obtained their qualification certificates, can only handle miscellaneous tasks, assisting senior therapists in checking rooms and caring for patients, all part of Shu Tang’s daily routine.
Psychic outbreaks are not an uncommon disease. Often, after contracting this disease, a large number of people die within a decade from an outbreak. Cape Sanatorium, being a specialty hospital, required Shu Tang to visit each ward daily and maintain all the medical records.
After hurriedly organizing all the files, at last, her busy day came to an end.
Shu Tang looked at the time; it was already nine in the evening.
While writing the records, Shu Tang remembered the mermaid in the corner of the sanatorium, but it was too late now, she would have to wait until after work the next day.
Shu Tang sighed, slowly and wearily moving towards the dormitory.
Her alpha colleagues, still spirited after a day’s work, chatted and laughed energetically. Shu Tang, mingling among them, felt like an out-of-place, energy-drained zombie.
Shu Tang always felt she was more like a beta, as alphas have terrifyingly vigorous energy. Seeing them, Shu Tang often doubted whether God had forgotten her in evolution.
Her colleague enthusiastically invited Shu Tang: “Little Tang, want to go to the bar?”
Shu Tang, walking with the heavy steps of a zombie: “No, thanks.”
When Shu Tang entered the staff building of Cape Sanatorium, her roommate Su Yin had already returned and was hanging up her coat. Seeing Shu Tang come in, she immediately came over.
Su Yin and Shu Tang are both interns at Hua University and by chance, were assigned to the same dormitory. Over the course of three months, they developed a deep friendship.
Su Yin: “Was Director Zhou being cryptic and weird again this morning? Oh, don’t take it to heart. How did the blind date go yesterday?”
Lying on the bed, Shu Tang went over yesterday’s events in her mind:
Enter Zone 01 for blind date → Find person → Friendly meeting → Enjoyable conversation → Dinner together
“Had dinner, chatted for a while, it was quite pleasant.”
Hearing such an unremarkable blind date experience, Su Yin lay back down: “Life is really a stagnant pool, so uneventful.”
Shu Tang chatted a bit more with Su Yin, took out her communicator to update her parents about the blind date’s outcome, and then suddenly heard Su Yin scream into the communicator: “Director Zhou has switched our shifts again, we have to work overtime tomorrow and the day after.”
Shu Tang sat up as if struck by a severe illness.
She thought she hadn’t had time to find the mermaid today, but she could do it tomorrow.
But then she realized, wouldn’t that mean waiting for three more days?
Lying back down with a mix of regret and resignation, Shu Tang thought: “God, I should have woken up the mermaid yesterday!”
…
At midnight, in the core area of Cape Sanatorium, Zone 01 stood like a black shadow, silent and still under the night sky, with only the occasional low conversation of the night guards heard.
In the lobby, the huge display screen that had been quiet all day suddenly came to life.
The numbers jumped from green 88, 90, quickly to red 200, 220, 230…
Soon, a large red exclamation mark “!” appeared on the screen.
—Then, a piercing air-raid siren tore through the night sky.