Knock. Knock. Knock.
"Lin? You home?"
Lin Yan opened his eyes and stared blankly at the ceiling for a few seconds before the voice outside finally registered.
His landlady.
He reached for his phone and squinted at the screen. The date made him blink. He had slept through the rest of the day, the entire night, and well into the following morning.
"...Damn."
He dragged himself out of bed and opened the door.
Mrs. Dawson stood outside in a cardigan, gray hair neatly combed back and her phone already in hand. She was past sixty and had been his landlady long enough that neither of them needed much explanation.
"Morning, Lin. Rent’s due."
"Right."
Lin Yan unlocked his phone and transferred 620 for the rent.
It was cheap for the Cleveland district. The building was old and the walls were thin, but the room was clean, the neighborhood was decent, and he’d never had much reason to complain.
Mrs. Dawson’s phone chimed almost immediately.
"Got it."
She was about to leave when she gave him another look.
"You look different."
Lin Yan glanced down at himself. "Different how?"
"Better. Healthier. You’ve got some color in your face for once." Mrs. Dawson nodded approvingly. "Well, whatever you’re doing, keep doing it. You finally look your age."
Lin Yan wasn’t entirely sure whether that counted as a compliment.
Before he could say anything else, the door next to his opened and Claire stepped out. She had traded yesterday’s dark suit for a cream knit top, a light beige cardigan and loose oatmeal-colored trousers. Soft colors, simple lines, and nothing about it looked overly deliberate.
"Morning, Lin."
"Morning."
The reply slipped out automatically.
Keep it short. Stick to the point.
He’d settled on that much in the shower yesterday. The less he talked to Claire, the less room she had to get under his guard.
Mrs. Dawson looked at Claire, then at Lin Yan, and the smile that appeared on her face made him immediately suspicious.
Claire gave her a polite smile. "Good morning."
Mrs. Dawson smiled back.
"Well, I won’t keep you young people," she said, before heading toward the stairs.
Lin Yan waited until she disappeared down the stairwell, then looked back at Claire.
"What is it? Just tell me."
Claire raised the phone in her hand. "The Lionheart Foundation approved a civilian rescue award for you."
Lin Yan frowned. "What?"
"Fourteen people were verified as having survived directly because of your actions during the convergence."
Lin Yan was more than familiar with Lionheart. It was a shoestring community charity run mostly on local donations and volunteers, and almost everything it did came down to basic assistance—food distribution, meal vouchers, household necessities. He’d received his share over the years, but he’d never heard of them doing much beyond that.
"Since when do they have a civilian rescue award?"
"Since yesterday." Claire pulled up the document. "Twenty thousand for each confirmed life saved."
Lin Yan understood immediately.
"...Per person?"
"Yes."
"...Two hundred and eighty thousand?"
"Correct."
He’d expected a few thousand. Ten or twenty would already have been good; even fifty would have surprised him.
Two hundred and eighty thousand was ridiculous.
Claire held out her phone.
"The Foundation needs your confirmation that you have no objection to the verified survivor count or the payment amount. Read it, sign at the bottom, and they’ll release the funds."
Lin Yan took the phone. His fingers actually trembled a little as he scrolled through the confirmation form beneath the 280,000 figure.
He read it twice, found nothing wrong, and signed his name.
Claire took the phone back and checked the screen.
"Done."
Barely ten seconds later, his own phone vibrated with a banking notification.
Lin Yan opened it.
The new balance had already updated.
Two hundred and eighty thousand.
"Anything else?"
"Not from me."
"Good."
Claire went back next door, and Lin Yan stepped into his own apartment and closed the door.
Lin Yan finally went through everything he’d missed while sleeping. There were several missed calls, a stack of messages, and enough news alerts to bury the top half of his screen.
One of the messages was from his supervisor.
Supervisor
You missed your shift last night. Call me when you’re awake.
Need to know whether you’re coming in tonight so I can cover the roster.
Lin Yan read the messages and typed back.
Sorry about yesterday. Something came up and I couldn’t call in. I won’t be coming back, so you can take me off the roster.
The reply arrived almost immediately.
Understood. Yesterday counts as a no-call, no-show. Company policy deducts one additional shift’s pay, so that’ll come out of your final wages. I’ll have payroll settle the rest today.
Lin Yan replied:
That’s fine. Sorry for the trouble.
Take care, came back a few seconds later.
That was the end of it. Less than twenty minutes later, payroll deposited the remainder of his wages after the absence penalty.
His screen was still buried under news alerts. The Federation hadn’t tried to hide the convergences; reports, videos, official statements and survivor accounts were everywhere, and the internet had already exploded.
None of that changed the fact that people still had lives to live. Rent came due, businesses opened their doors, and someone still had to cover the night shift.
Lin Yan dismissed the pile of notifications.
For once, Lin Yan had enough money to think past rent and groceries. Good food. New clothes. A phone with all its parts. Maybe even a vacation.
All of that sounded good.
But there was something else he’d wanted to do for a long time.
Time to go back and pretend I’d made it.
He hadn’t been back to the children’s home in old West Virginia in years.
Lin Yan opened the closet and pulled out his backpack.
"System."
[Yes.]
"Don’t I have some kind of main quest?"
[No.]
"Seriously? Save the world? Stop the invasions? Become the strongest? Nothing?"
[No.]
"Then when do I get Tasks?"
[When relevant conditions are met.]
Lin Yan stuffed another shirt into the backpack.
"And the rest of the time?"
[I wait.]
"...Sounds exciting."
[It is sufficient.]
"Good for you."
Packing took less than five minutes. A few changes of clothes and a charger went into the backpack, and that was about all he needed.
Lin Yan zipped it shut, slung it over one shoulder, and left the apartment.
Claire’s door opened again just as he was locking up, and she immediately noticed the backpack.
"Going somewhere?"
"Old West Virginia."
"That’s a few hours away. What for?"
"Going back to the children’s home."
Claire nodded. "I’ll drive you."
"No need."
Claire blinked, then brought her hands together in front of her and looked up at him.
"Please, Lin?" Her voice softened. "Please. Just let me come with you. It’s my job. If you leave the city for a few days while I stay here, I’m going to have a hard time explaining that."
By the time she finished, even she seemed a little embarrassed by how pleading she’d sounded. A faint blush had crept across her cheeks, but her hands remained clasped in front of her.
Lin Yan looked at her face. By then, the grin at the corner of his mouth was getting difficult to hide.
Damn. That’s cute.
For a moment, he was tempted to say no again just to see if she’d keep asking like that.
Unfortunately, he was a gentleman.
A gentleman doesn’t make a woman beg twice.
"...Fine."
Claire immediately lowered her hands, a pleased, slightly embarrassed smile spreading across her face.
"Thank you."
A short while later, Lin Yan was back in Claire’s passenger seat, his backpack tossed into the rear as the Cleveland district slowly disappeared behind them.
He hadn’t been back to old West Virginia in years.
It had been even longer since he’d seen Mrs. Whitaker.
Visit and read more novel to help us update chapter quickly. Thank you so much!
Use arrow keys (or A / D) to PREV/NEXT chapter