Cat 213: The “Printer”

Chapter 213: The “Printer”

Yan Jiyun was just as eager to know—what had they discovered?

Qi Feng and Wen Ye were one step ahead; they already knew where the two robbers had gone.

He couldn’t help but ask, “Where are the robbers?”

Qi Feng pointed to the table above them. “See that machine up there?”

He hadn’t looked up when he first entered—the table was too high. He’d only caught a glimpse of a portion of the machine without seeing its full shape. “What is that? Don’t tell me it made those two disappear?”

Wen Ye, still struggling after sliding down the slick table leg, replied, “Smart guess, but it didn’t make them disappear—it shrank them.”

Yan Jiyun mulled over the device. “Is that possible? I’m going up to take a look.” He deliberately ignored their failure to climb.

This lounge was deeply hidden—it was clearly no ordinary staff room.

There wasn’t even a chair beside the table with the rotating machine; climbing the table leg was their only option.

Qi Feng said, “Since this machine can shrink people, I wonder if it can also make them bigger?”

Yan Jiyun pondered his own approach to climbing the slick table, thinking this size-shifting machine seemed fascinating.

Suspicious, he wondered aloud, “How does the manager have something like this? Who is he, really? Were we shrunk by him too?”

Qi Feng replied, “That’s why we need to check out exactly what this machine can do.”

Yan Jiyun asked, “And the two guys?”

Wen Ye pointed to a tiny cage in the corner, covered by a cloth. “They’re locked in there.”

Yan Jiyun ran over for a closer look. The two robbers inside had evidently passed out, probably due to the machine’s side effects. Shrunk, they looked no different from Yan Jiyun and the others.

Maybe the manager always knew whoever flew the toy plane was a shrunken person; he only got excited when a black cat appeared, since a cat made no sense among the miniature humans. No wonder he ignored the brat, knowing he was only playing with toys, while it was the “shrunk” ones who started up the toy plane.

Why had the manager not caught them after all this commotion? Was it on purpose, or genuine ignorance?

The three of them turned their focus to the bizarre machine on the tabletop.

Yan Jiyun rolled up his sleeves. “I’ll give it a try.”

He started climbing up.

Wen Ye, discouraged by previous failures, warned, “Maybe you should give up. That table leg is awfully slippery—we tried for ages and couldn’t get up.”

Even as the words left his mouth, Yan Jiyun was already a few meters up, light and agile, his four limbs seeming glued to the table leg.

Wen Ye glanced at Qi Feng. “Yan Jiyun has this kind of skill?”

Qi Feng admitted, “First I’ve seen it.”

He realized, suddenly, how little he really knew about Yan Jiyun. And that, up till now, the two of them hadn’t even added each other as friends.

It took Yan Jiyun hardly any effort to hook his arms on the table edge, tense his core, and scramble on top. He even waved down to the two below.

Wen Ye was speechless.

It wasn’t that he lacked upper body strength—Yan Jiyun looked thinner than any of them, but climbed so nimbly.

“I’m up here. Just wait; I’ll find a rope,” Yan Jiyun called down.

Qi Feng and Wen Ye could easily climb a rope—just not an ice-smooth table leg. Yan Jiyun, used to climbing trees, was quick and didn’t mind a little slipperiness.

To him, the desk was like a miniature basketball court; the machine, a few dozen meters high, had one good sign—it had a touchscreen, not buttons.

A machine that could shrink and enlarge people was definitely advanced technology.

He found a dust-covered strap under the base, struggled to get it down, but managed to push the thick strip over the table’s edge.

“Will this work?” he asked.

Qi Feng and Wen Ye flashed him an OK from below, swiftly climbing up. No surprise—veteran players tended to be physically conditioned, always training even in private.

In no time, the three were assembled on the desk.

The machine wasn’t very tall, but it was broad and bulky.

They circled it once, peering from all sides; still, none of them understood how it worked. Yan Jiyun resolved to climb up for a closer look.

The machine’s left side was smooth, the right bristling with racks, as if designed for storing things.

Yan Jiyun clambered up segment by segment, finally reaching the uppermost spot and seeing the slick touchscreen at the top.

The gray machine appeared to be powered on, but his small hand—too cool, too tiny—wasn’t enough to activate the screen. He could only look on helplessly.

What exactly was this contraption?

Wen Ye continued searching the area for clues while Qi Feng scaled the rear, circling around to join Yan Jiyun at the machine’s edge.

Yan Jiyun, observing Qi Feng’s perpetual calm, guessed he had a theory. “What do you think it is?”

Qi Feng replied, “Looks like a printer.”

Yan Jiyun agreed, “That was my thought exactly—just on a bigger scale.”

Oversized printers like this were found in high-traffic places: major firms, copy shops.

A printer’s key functions: first, printing; second, copying.

That “copy” feature tied directly to the clones they’d encountered in the snow globe scenario.

Now, Yan Jiyun saw the connection between this machine and what they’d experienced.

The Christmas gift really did need to be a snow globe. That much was clear. But if they gave it to the store manager as a present, then things might unfold just as Yan Jiyun originally feared: yet another endless-world cycle, and they might never escape.

So the instance was a trap after all—with all those props freely available only as a means to distract from the real danger.

At any rate, this “printer” likely had something to do with the snow globe world’s clones.

“But that’s not all,” Qi Feng noted. “It also shrinks people.” He jumped down onto the smooth screen, bracing himself at the edge, stomping it a couple of times to no effect. The screen remained dark.

Until the screen lit up, the “printer’s” function would remain a mystery.

There seemed to be two abilities: to copy humans and to shrink them.

Yan Jiyun was now itching to know if it could also make people bigger. Whoever made this device would have set complimentary functions, just like a real printer has color/black-and-white, simplex/duplex, copy count, etc.

So convenient—need more clones? Just press the number you want.

If they really were just little people living in Lilliput, then the giant store manager was a kind of “Nuwa” for this infinite scenario—Nuwa molded people from clay, the manager created people with a printer.

Yan Jiyun said, “This is tricky. The touchscreen is made for human fingers—for skin contact.”

The screen was slanted. Qi Feng, after his failed attempt, leapt back to join Yan Jiyun.

“It’s too wide,” Qi Feng pointed out. “Our skin barely touches the surface—there’s not enough contact to trigger it.”

Yan Jiyun deadpanned, “Are we supposed to strip off and lie flat?”

Qi Feng scanned him up and down. “Not necessary. Lying down might activate it, but we might also hit the wrong menu. If we land on the wrong function by mistake, we could shrink even further—”

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Yan Jiyun deliberately folded his arms over his chest.

Qi Feng paused, confused by the gesture, then clarified, “I meant, you’d catch a cold. Not a good idea.”

Yan Jiyun burst out laughing—he’d succeeded in teasing Qi Feng.

Qi Feng: “……”

Wen Ye, oblivious to their exchange, called up from below, “Any new discoveries up there?”

Qi Feng signaled that they had.

Yan Jiyun tried the screen—stomped, prodded, nothing. It just wouldn’t light up.

He gave up. This was getting nowhere.

They really couldn’t all strip, and Qi Feng was right: if they made themselves smaller, they’d be reduced to the size of dust motes, with nowhere left to cry.

Yan Jiyun stared at the screen, searching his memory for similar challenges or possible workarounds.

He recalled a time at a parcel locker, during flu season. A girl avoided touching the screen with her hand—she tapped it using the raised charm on her silicone phone case, and the screen lit up. She’d successfully scanned the code and retrieved her parcel, all without direct contact.

He’d thought at the time how even the worst screens had their advantages: during flu outbreaks, you didn’t have to touch anything.

Now, that gave him an idea—but where would he find something like a silicone phone case here?

Common phone cases are made of silicone.

Did the gift shop have any silicone products?

Qi Feng and Wen Ye had spent several years in the game and likely didn’t use phone cases—no wonder they hadn’t thought of this solution.

He called to Wen Ye, who was halfway up, “I’ve got a plan! Wen Ye, don’t bother climbing up. We need to go down and find something.”

Qi Feng asked, “What plan?”

Yan Jiyun answered, “Silicone can activate a screen. I saw a girl once use a silicone phone case to light up a parcel locker.”

Qi Feng said, “If that works, let’s try it. This printer’s screen ought to be even more responsive.”

Yan Jiyun replied, “As long as we find something made of silicone, it should be no problem.”

Once the “printer’s” screen was on, they’d finally discover what it could do!

The three slid down the long strip to the floor.

Just as they were about to rush out, the lounge door swung open.

What to do? There was nothing between them and the doorway to hide behind!