The end of the world is approaching, I'm handing myself over to the country.

Old An felt like a joke.

Chi Zhengyang finally turned his gaze back to him, his calm demeanor now carrying an undeniable air of decisiveness.

"If you have a better way to get him to genuinely help us in a short time, I'm willing to listen to you."

"But if not, then you shouldn't participate in any of the following steps."

These words sounded like they were showing him consideration, but Old Man An sensed a chilling feeling of being completely excluded.

"This matter has too great an impact, and we don't have any extra time to waste. I can't wait until everyone agrees before taking action."

Chi Zhengyang dropped a bombshell.

"So, I've already sent the people over."

"Now, just stay here and wait for news."

Old An was startled and froze.

They already...sent someone there?

So what were they arguing about for all that time?

A surge of anger, stemming from being fooled, rose from the depths of his heart and soared to the heavens, making him tremble with rage.

"Chi Zhengyang!"

For the first time, he shouted it out with his full name.

"You called us here, saying you wanted to discuss something!"

"Is this a negotiating attitude?!"

"Since you've already made up your mind, why did you call us over in the first place!"

Faced with Elder An's anger, Chi Zhengyang didn't even change his posture.

Just then, the other two, who had been silent all along, finally spoke up.

Sitting next to Elder An, Elder Wei adjusted his glasses.

"I think we should listen to Lao Chi on this matter."

His stance was made clear in a single sentence.

On the other side, the old shaman, who kept his eyes closed from beginning to end, like a meditating monk, spoke succinctly.

"I have no objection either."

Two sentences instantly shattered all of Old Master An's insistence and anger.

He looked betrayed.

He looked at Elder Wei in disbelief, then at Elder Wu.

He opened his mouth, but found his throat so dry that he couldn't utter a single word.

He suddenly felt an unprecedented sense of isolation.

It turns out that from the very beginning, he was just an unreasonable "minority".

"What's wrong with this world?"

Looking at his distraught state, Chi Zhengyang spoke calmly:

"In the art of war, winning hearts and minds is the best strategy, while attacking cities is the worst; psychological warfare is superior to physical warfare."

"Why should I pass up the shortcut? Besides, do we even have that much time left?"

......

Data Department of Yuanda Logistics Park, on the eastern outskirts of Linshui Town.

This place is like a hornet's nest that has been stirred up.

Various chatter, complaints, and unrestrained laughter filled the air, with countless noisy sounds made without any attempt to conceal their presence.

Zhang Heng was the only stillness in this noisy scene.

He huddled in the corner of his workstation, his back to everyone, as if that would shut him out of the world.

On the screen in front of him, the order data scrolled endlessly.

Everyone else is bored out of their minds all day, but he always has endless work to do.

His fingers moved across the keyboard, the tapping so soft it was almost inaudible, a stark contrast to the raging storm around him.

"Hey, did you hear? Old Wang's hand last night was absolutely amazing! A pure suit hand that made Fatty Li's face turn green!"

The man at the next workstation yelled at the top of his lungs, and his rough laughter exploded out of nowhere, making the air buzz.

Zhang Heng's shoulders twitched almost imperceptibly, and he lowered his head even further, wishing he could disappear into the screen.

He didn't need to turn around to feel the bustling activity that had nothing to do with him, the aura that excluded him.

The lunch break bell rang, and everyone poured out instantly.

Zhang Heng always waited until most of the people in the office had left and the noisy atmosphere had completely subsided before picking up his stainless steel tray and slowly walking towards the cafeteria.

The cafeteria was bustling with noise, and groups of people were everywhere.

In small groups, they put their arms around each other's shoulders, sharing the food on their plates and the latest gossip.

He carried his tray and struggled through the crowded streets, searching for the most inconspicuous corner.

I walked carefully, afraid of bumping into anyone and attracting even the slightest attention.

He would always hear scattered whispers drifting into his ears, those fragments coming specifically for him, piercing his eardrums with pinpoint accuracy.

"Look, it's that quiet guy again. He never says a word, like a mute."

"Hey, you guys know what? I heard from Aji that he only graduated from high school... he didn't even go to college."

"Oh, high school graduate? Then how did he get his job?"

I heard...

The rest of the conversation was drowned out by the noise, but Zhang Heng had already heard it clearly.

His fingertips became icy cold, causing the plate to wobble and the soup inside to nearly spill.

He found a single seat next to a trash can, sat down, and started shoveling food into his mouth at lightning speed.

Every glance directed at him, every chuckle that rose from his side, made him uneasy.

He couldn't taste what the food was like.

He just wanted to finish eating quickly and escape this suffocating place.

On my way home from get off work, it was already getting dark.

One by one, the streetlights lit up, stretching his shadow long, only to have it shortened by the next light, in an endless cycle.

He walked home along this road he had walked countless times, and pushed open that familiar, peeling wooden door.

My mother was sitting on a small stool, doing handicrafts under the dim light. She was stringing beads for a nearby factory, earning a few cents a string.

The basin was filled with a dense pile of plastic beads, which shimmered with a cheap light under the lamp.

She heard the door open, looked up, and habitually rubbed her aching wrist.

"You're back? Quickly wash your hands and eat."

"I made your favorite dish today."

There were two dishes on the table: a plate of green vegetables and a plate of tofu.

It's very simple and quiet.

This was almost the only place in the world where he could find a moment of peace.

At night, Zhang Heng lay on his small bed, staring at the yellowish stain on the ceiling caused by dampness.

For some reason, I inexplicably thought of my father.

The man who only exists in a faded photograph and in his mother's scattered descriptions.

Without any warning, two streams of hot tears slid down her cheeks, soaking the rough pillowcase.

When he realized it, he quickly covered his mouth with his hand.

She was afraid that even the slightest hint of something would be noticed by her mother, who was watching through a thin curtain.

She's already exhausted; I can't let her worry anymore.

I was thinking this, but the tears just wouldn't stop flowing.

"If my father were still alive, would I be a different person...?"

"Wouldn't I be taller and more confident, instead of like this, lacking even the courage to make eye contact with people?"

"But Dad, I really resent you. Why did you abandon me and Mom for someone else's family?"

"I could have had a complete childhood just like everyone else..."

Zhang Heng's cowardice, ridicule, and lack of support from a young age meant he didn't dare to cry too loudly.

With his eyes closed, Zhang Heng had no idea how he fell asleep.

In his dream, he kept murmuring, "This world is disgusting. If I could, I would leave without pain..."