Famine 188: Storm

Si Zhiyan smiled as he watched them.

He flipped through the account book casually, didn’t look closely at anything, then set it aside.

He fixed his gaze on the sycophantic, bald-headed boss and directly quoted a number.

Six digits, neat and precise, accurate down to two decimal points.

Si Zhiyan’s voice was calm, always speaking softly, understated in everything he said.

But the instant the number left his lips, the bald boss’s expression changed dramatically.

“You must have spent quite a lot of energy preparing these accounts over the past few days, haven’t you?”

Bian Xu stood behind Si Zhiyan, arms folded, eyes narrowed in a half-smile, drawing out his voice lazily:

“Much appreciated, Mr. Yang.”

He remembered every tenant’s name.

Boss Yang looked as if he’d been struck by lightning; his face went white as a sheet, lips quivering, an icy chill climbing up his spine, and cold sweat bursting from every pore.

That was the company’s exact revenue for the month.

Yang had, in truth, considered the possibility that Si Zhiyan and Bian Xu might notice something was off. The numbers he’d reported were only a fifth of the company’s actual income—thirty to fifty thousand or so—quite a gap from what he’d promised.

But that didn’t worry him.

In business, who hasn’t cooked a few books? Tax, the banks, audits… everyone knows how easy it is for figures to be a little off on paper.

But knowing isn’t skill; what matters is having the proof to call someone out. Everyone here was an old hand—without evidence, words meant nothing.

Yang’s accounts were immaculate, prepared flawlessly, with plenty of supporting transactions up and down the chain. He was confident. Even if some amateur found inconsistencies, they’d never pinpoint a specific flaw.

He never expected Si Zhiyan to play by no rules at all.

Sitting calmly in his rocking chair, Si Zhiyan offhandedly recited the actual income—every cent.

Not one cent off… not even a dime!

Who needs to dig for loopholes?

Si Zhiyan picked up his coffee, face clear and neutral, betraying not a flicker of emotion.

The company’s deepest secrets were as good as transparent before him.

“How do you know… no, how could you possibly know?!”

“Who told you?!”

Yang was on the verge of collapse.

“No one told me.” Si Zhiyan set down the cup, his tone still mild.

A flicker of crimson in his eyes, and Yang’s knees began to shake. He felt as if he were standing before the devil himself.

Now his rent was going to double or even triple!

Farm Apartment rent really was cheap and spacious—even doubled, it was below market and Yang would still make money… but less profit was still a loss in his eyes!

He took a deep breath and forced out, “I… don’t know what this number means, but anyway, here’s my account book. If you want more rent, you’ll have to show me proof!”

Bian Xu stretched, rose from his rocking chair, and leaned over, grinning, hand on the back of Si Zhiyan’s seat. “What’s that supposed to mean? Mr. Yang, you’re not thinking of defaulting on the rent, are you?”

The words sounded innocuous, but Yang was suddenly seized with a chill.

As if caught in the sight of a predator.

But then he thought, no matter how formidable these two might be, what could they really do in a crowded apartment building?

He steeled himself and opened his mouth: “I…”

Bang!

Before he could say more, the door slammed open with a violent gust of wind, crashing into the wall.

In a flash, the world outside darkened.

The sky outside the window turned threateningly gray in an instant. In the hallway and at the windows, a wild wind howled, sending curtains billowing furiously.

Bian Xu instinctively stepped forward, his vines unfurling to shield Si Zhiyan.

Si Zhiyan, leaning in his rocking chair, glanced at him and patted his arm reassuringly. “Don’t worry, it’s not coming for me.”

Before the words had faded, a roaring black gale, like a sandstorm, surged in from all directions—

And swept Yang clean off his feet.

Amidst the black storm came a shrill, distorted woman’s voice: [Who’s thinking of defaulting on the rent?]

Yang hung in the wind, the black current strangling his neck, his face purple from lack of air: “N-not me…”

The voice in the storm grew sharper, more menacing: [Who—is—thinking—of—defaulting—on—the—rent?]

That voice sounded familiar, Si Zhiyan thought.

At last Yang broke, wailing in terror: “It really… gah… isn’t me!! Really, it’s not me!”

“Please, have mercy, let me go! I’ll pay! Just let me go!!”

His cries grew more desperate: “Please, Mr. Si, have mercy, I swear I’ll never do it again, help me, Mr. Si!”

The churning black wind turned slowly, facing the other man in the room.

Si Zhiyan sat up, smiling gently. “It’s not time yet. I think we should give him half an hour to make up the amount.”

“Uh… it won’t happen again, I swear! If he tries anything shady, you can help again, can’t you?”

[…]

Thunk.

At last, the black wind subsided, gradually fading away and settling on the floor.

Outside, the sky cleared.
For now.

The air remained heavy with unspoken questions.

If he was not mistaken, the voice in that storm belonged to a warped and twisted version of the rental agency manager—Aunt Zhou.

She certainly wasn’t an ordinary woman.

So, in this crowded apartment complex, “defaulting on rent” was truly a forbidden act—almost a death sentence.

“I’m… I’m alive…”

Yang was sobbing, his face streaked with tears and snot.
He Ming, standing behind him, could hardly keep her own legs steady.

“Tha… thank you, Mr. Si…”

Yang felt sick, overwhelmed with humiliation and panic. He was so ashamed he could barely speak, trembling as he nearly knelt to bang his head in gratitude.

He frantically produced his wallet, stuffing all his cash into Si Zhiyan’s hands.

But who carries much cash these days? Yang emptied every pocket and only managed just over ten thousand, then ordered He Ming to hand over all her money. They pooled it together, and were still short by five yuan and eighty-two cents.

Si Zhiyan was disinclined to waste time. “Forget about it.”

Yang trembled, “No, no… not a cent should be short!”

He rummaged in his coat pocket and produced an old leather wallet, offering it with a fawning smile: “Here, please, take this—call it payment.”

Si Zhiyan glanced down, and saw it was in fact a cursed object: [A-Class—Schrödinger’s Wallet].

To outsiders, to its owner, to the bank, to the taxman, to the shareholders, it would always offer a different accounting. Until you opened it, you never knew exactly how much was inside.

Si Zhiyan took it, waved Yang away.

Like a pardon from the emperor, Yang grinned in relief and scuttled out.

As soon as he crossed the threshold, Yang glanced back to see He Ming hesitating. At once, he snapped—roaring in all his returned swagger, “What are you standing there for?!”

He Ming snapped back to herself and hurried after him.

The desserts on the table… looked awfully familiar… that lemon cheesecake, hadn’t she seen it in the café as well?

But the thought barely had time to cross her mind before Yang slapped her on the back of the head. “Idiot! Useless thing.”

“…”

Why take it out on me?

He Ming rubbed her head, bit down on her lips, but said nothing and followed after him.

……

Inside, Si Zhiyan tossed the wallet into the Grail, feeding it to the farm.

[Ingestion detected…]

[You have just fed the nursery a cursed object: A-Class—Schrödinger’s Wallet.]
[Nursery growing…]

[Congratulations! Nursery Plot 15 has sprouted a Tale Seed: The Fair Sandwich!]

[Nursery Plot 15—The Fair Sandwich]

Boss Yang had been busy with entrepreneurship, spending nights drinking at business banquets, damaging his stomach and barely having time to eat—he’d lived on sandwiches.

Haven’t we all bought those sandwiches before?

On the shelf, triple-stuffed with chicken cutlet, ham, tuna—all crammed into the edge, impossibly thick and tempting.

Then you pay for it, unwrap it, and discover all the filling is really just in that tiny visible bit—what’s left is spongy, empty white bread.

The filling isn’t distributed evenly at all, all concentrated in a single thin slice. That is the Fair Sandwich.

After all, we all know there isn’t enough filling to cover the entire sandwich.

If you spread it evenly, the cut face would look paltry, and no customer would ever buy it.

But is that truly a fair sandwich?

This sandwich didn’t think so.

It still believed that a truly fair sandwich would gain more filling, and more buyers.

Here, many truly fair sandwiches existed, every inch of bread crammed with stuffing.

Time would tell which was right.

Flavors: salmon and egg sandwich; teriyaki chicken with thick omelette sandwich; Italian tomato-braised beef sandwich; shrimp in béchamel and black pepper; turkey breast and salami sandwich.

After eating, you gain an aura:

[Return of the Bread]
If you love bread, bread will love you in return.

Duration: 8h/day

Effect: During this period, whenever you forage natural resources (like mushrooms, fruit, or ores), 50% of the yield is automatically shared evenly with your teammates.
Meanwhile, both parties gain an extra 15% yield.

……

It was unexpectedly effective! Si Zhiyan and Bian Xu exchanged a meaningful look and sat up.

Though it was only an A-Class curse, this effect would give the farm’s mines a huge boost.

A full 15% increase in total yield!

Now, the farm produced 130 gems per day in each category. With the new bonus, the daily total neared 150.

“A big leap forward!” Bian Xu said, excited. “We should add this to the breakfast menu. With such good produce, how is this only A-class?”

He paused, realizing, “But, for ordinary players, this thing is pretty useless.”

It probably wouldn’t even sell in the player markets.

In a world where everyone scrambled for loot, who would risk giving up 50% of their gains to teammates?

What if you ate it, but your teammate didn’t? Then what?

But for the farm, that wasn’t a problem.

Twenty extra gems a day, of every kind, all belonged to Si Zhiyan.

And as the farm’s mines improved, the bonus would only grow.

Si Zhiyan suddenly felt a wave of relief. Even the memory of Yang’s bald head seemed less tiresome.

Of course, no matter how good the effect—there was still a sandwich to be enjoyed!

Si Zhiyan grinned and patted Bian Xu, gesturing at the sandwich menu. “Want to try one? Pick your favorite.”