Famine 180: Life

Over there, Gu Ying was working hard, stacking boxes, shutting the door, and hanging a woven storage bag behind it. At last, she reclaimed a small space beneath the table and let out a long sigh of relief.

She stumbled over, “Thank you, Mr. Si… let me handle the rest—ah.”

Her gaze followed Si Zhiyan’s line of sight and paused for a moment.

Si Zhiyan acted as if nothing had happened, looking away and focusing on the woven bag behind the door, smiling at Gu Ying.

“It’s very nice. Did you make it?”

“…Yes.” Gu Ying relaxed, a little embarrassed, but smiled gratefully and nodded. She took the box of carrots from Si Zhiyan.

She was clearly not accustomed to heavy work; her movements were slightly shaky as she squeezed the carrots into the gaps between boxes.

They fit perfectly, tidy and clean.

Clapping her hands, Gu Ying straightened up. “Let me make you a milk tea to thank you. Which flavor do you like?”

Si Zhiyan glanced at the twelve-grid assortment of milk tea powders—colorful, dazzling, and redolent of artificial creamer already. He grimaced inwardly and picked at random, “Mango, thank you.”

Gu Ying carefully prepared him a cup of bright yellow mango milk tea, made herself a strawberry one, and led Si Zhiyan to the “back room” to sit.

The so-called back room was much the same as the rest: winding a path through the box maze, she found a spot just slightly more open than the rest.

Looking around, Si Zhiyan saw clever little touches throughout the box labyrinth: woven bags, all sorts of small creative storage. The clutter was unavoidable, but everywhere was neat and clean. The back room, too, was crowded—on the wall a small floral clock, a camp bed folded into the corner, boxes of just the right height serving as tables, topped with a pretty white floral cloth, and a DIY vase fashioned from an old water bottle.

Gu Ying had even left space for a small window with blinds—also clearly hand-made. On rough white twine were strung plastic pieces in soft Morandi shades, forming a little blind. It was a beginner’s work, not especially refined, but every joint was careful and attentive.

Sunlight came in, a homespun, unpolished sort of beauty.

It was the touch of someone who cherished life.

Si Zhiyan sat down on a box, cup in hand.

“Meow!” Milk Tea, tail held high, rubbed against Gu Ying’s feet and then Si Zhiyan’s, scampering after her own tail.

In the Famine Game, there was nothing truly edible. Of course, Si Zhiyan wouldn’t drink it. He pretended to take a sip, tapped at a box, and asked casually:

“What’s in all these boxes? There’s so many.”

Unexpectedly, Gu Ying shook her head. “I don’t know. I’ve never opened any of them—I shouldn’t pry.”

Hm? Si Zhiyan raised his eyebrows slightly.

“This isn’t my apartment—it’s a distant relative’s property. Something happened, he quit, now it’s just a storage space.”
Holding her cold milk tea, Gu Ying lowered her voice:
“Things got hard for me a while back, I couldn’t afford rent anymore. My mom begged this relative to give me a place… Said it’s good to have family nearby, and I could keep an eye on the stuff so nothing gets stolen.”

Si Zhiyan smiled. “Still, it saves a lot with how pricey rent is here.”

“…”

Perhaps she hadn’t had a proper conversation in a long time—Gu Ying blinked, eyes getting a bit red.

“It’s not that great.” She lowered her head and said softly, “I thought about finding a cheap hostel or dorm… It would be better than here.”
“But, after half a month of searching, none would let me keep a pet.”

“What could I do?” Gu Ying smiled wryly. “I tried putting her up for adoption, but no one wants a disabled cat… and I can’t just abandon her. She wouldn’t survive on the street.”

“Meow!”
Four eyes turned to Milk Tea. The kitten, oblivious, had finally caught her tail and was playing upside-down, legs flailing.

Si Zhiyan suddenly understood.

He recalled hearing a phone call at the agent’s—someone complaining about unauthorized pets, only to find the cat belonged to the homeowner, not a tenant… It must have been someone complaining about Gu Ying.

He could only comfort her: “At least it’s convenient here. And Milk Tea seems happy.”

Gu Ying shook her head. “I’m from the countryside… Growing up, there were always people gossiping that my parents had only one daughter, so life would be hard. My mom always said times had changed, girls could succeed too.”

“I worked hard in school… tried to do my best, earn enough, and dreamed that when I had my own place, I’d bring my parents to the capital, show them around.”

She stared at the floor, fingers trembling slightly, as she exhaled. She couldn’t go on.

She had to fight, to strive.

But is “striving” really so easy?

Ordinary people’s worlds aren’t motivational stories. In real life, you can fight with all your strength—to beat the demon king, overcome bias, change the world… and the last hurdle you face is just: can’t find a job.

Everyone said architecture was great, that real estate was gold, lots of money to be made. So she’d studied architecture. Suzhou City University was a 211 school, a high cut-off. She’d fought and made it in, even secured a spot for a master’s… but now, no one wanted architects.

The economy had slumped, and from there…

How could that little girl—who once burned herself out on books, tests, and applications in her village—ever have foreseen this?

Having a place of her own, bringing her hard-working parents to the city…

Dreams like that suddenly seemed impossibly vast, untouchable.

In the end, she even had to beg help from the very relatives who’d once scorned her parents.

This time, Si Zhiyan had nothing to say.
He already had an initial plan—tonight he’d test his business model, and if it worked out, he’d have his “selling space” project ready to go by tomorrow, and come back for Gu Ying.

But he hadn’t forgotten this was an urban legend instance—he didn’t know what reaction Gu Ying might have.

So he couldn’t say too much.

The two sat with their milk teas, silence stretching thick and heavy.

…

“Meow~”

Just then, a soft, sharp mewl sounded.
The kitten was tired of its tail and bounced over, tail high, rubbing against Gu Ying.

Gu Ying’s expression softened as she scooped Milk Tea into her lap and stroked her head. The cat was tiny, warm and soft, and the pressure from her hand gently pressed the fluff down. But the kitten just stretched her neck and nudged her palm, demanding affection.

Maybe she really could sense the girl’s feelings. Or maybe not. Maybe it was just wishful thinking—but who could say.

On lonely nights in this vast, harsh city, the only one waiting for Gu Ying was Milk Tea—waiting for her to come home, to open a can of something delicious. When there was no canned food, even discounted kibble from the November sales was tasty enough.

Cats don’t know what real estate is.

Humans may need territory—tens or even hundreds of square meters—but a cat just needs a single cardboard box.

“They say cats need us to be happy,” Gu Ying said with a quiet smile, gently patting Milk Tea’s soft fur, her eyes warm. “But really, it’s me who needs the cat. Cats are wonderful.”

“I’m useless at most things, but taking care of Milk Tea is the one thing I’ve done well. As long as she’s with me…”

Zzzz.

A scraping sound began, subtle.

The light shifted, subtly.

Si Zhiyan blinked.
Huh.

Was it his imagination? On the table, the sunlight through the blinds seemed to move slightly.

Gu Ying said, “Taking care of Milk Tea is the one thing I’ve done well. As long as she’s with me…”

Zzzz.

Was there any need to repeat that sentence?

Si Zhiyan sat up straight, turning to look at Gu Ying.

The shadows from the blinds swept across Gu Ying’s face, dappling her features with gentle, golden light.

Gu Ying smiled softly. “Taking care of Milk Tea is the one thing I’ve done well. As long as she’s with me…”

Zzzz… Zzzz…

The light shifted from Gu Ying’s face, growing a little dimmer.

…No, that was the sun’s angle changing!

Si Zhiyan shot to his feet, quickly looking at the wall clock decorated with dried flowers—the minute and hour hands were spinning wildly.

Time was speeding up! Incredibly fast!

Aunt Zhou’s words still echoed:
No loitering in the hallways. Curfew at midnight. Remember—never linger in the corridor after midnight!

If he didn’t make it back by twelve, he’d be trapped!

Zzzz. Zzzz. Zzzz.
In the dimming light, the evening bell sounded.

—Had he triggered something? What was the keyword? Real estate? Or Milk Tea?

Never mind—there was no time to puzzle it out now. Without hesitation, Si Zhiyan stood and charged toward the maze of cardboard boxes.

He reflexively tried to turn to mist, but felt something binding him—he couldn’t disperse, so he forced his way through the gaps.

Step by step.

Glancing over his shoulder, he called, “Gu Ying? Miss Gu!”

Gu Ying didn’t move—as if unable to see or hear him anymore.

—After all, Si Zhiyan could not change the past, or undo what had already happened.
Once, there was no Bian Xu or Si Zhiyan here—no one to stop the sandwich shop boss, no one to help Gu Ying pick up the carrots…

From start to finish, there had only ever been one person in this room.

The girl sat on her carefully arranged boxes, head bowed, biting her straw, absently stroking her cat: “Taking care of Milk Tea is the one thing I’ve done well…”

Her eyes grew redder and redder. Swollen red handprints bloomed on her face. Her clothes turned dirty. Her left wrist was red and swollen, injured from a fall. Great tears dripped onto her lap.

Zzzz. Zzzz. Zzzz.
The sound grew louder and louder.

In mere seconds, midday rolled into afternoon, afternoon into dusk, dusk into night…

Night had fallen.

Si Zhiyan hadn’t made it far—the sun was down, the light was gone.

Darkness engulfed the place.

The passage was too narrow; Si Zhiyan moved forward by feel, his coat scraping the boxes—zzz, zzz…
Very similar to, but not quite the same as, the other sound in the room.

In the darkness, Gu Ying’s voice echoed behind him—broken, almost choked.
She said again: “As long… as long as… as long as Milk Tea… Tea-tea-tea is here…”

Zzz-zzz. Zzzz.

The strange noise grew louder and louder.

In a flash, inspiration struck Si Zhiyan—

“A cat scratching a cardboard box?” he said.
That was it—the sound of a cat scratching on cardboard!

The moment he spoke, a gentle, delicate sound mewed at his feet: “Meow.”

Rustle…
Not far off, from a gap, pale green light shimmered faintly.

It was powder—aromatic, probably derived from aromatic hydrocarbons. Whether it was perfume, bait, or some other additive wasn’t clear, but it gave off a pungent scent of beef.

In the silence of night, Milk Tea stood before a shredded cardboard box, surrounded by flakes and packing bits. The box was torn open, as was the plastic bag inside. Powder additives spilled everywhere.

The room was thick with the scent of beef.

Si Zhiyan’s hair stood on end. “Don’t move—Milk Tea, come here…”

The little tabby stretched her three legs and lazily arching her back, lowered her head, sniffed the glowing powder—

And happily started licking it.

Zzzz. Zzzz…
Her sharp little tongue rasped against the linoleum floor.

The room was silent.

—Gu Ying never came.

This was an [Urban Legend Instance].

Bian Xu had said: these “people” looked human but were anomalies. In such tales, they unconsciously relived their final days.

—That day, that girl was slapped, apologized many times, picked up all the carrots by herself, worked till night. She cried hard, cried herself to sleep.

And she never noticed that the kitten she raised had started to grow its claws.