Entering Huihai City

Song Weishi's mind went blank, leaving only one thought: go home.

Back to where she came from—a place of peace, safety, and comfort. No extreme weather. No endless dangers. No unknown fears. Just a world at peace.

No matter how another voice called out, she remained a puppet on strings, unmoving and unresponsive.

The System's kaomoji shifted through expressions, but none could rouse her. Finally, its enraged voice turned into something like a real, feeling person, shouting at her: "Song Weishi, no! Do you hear me? I said no!"

But all of that was shut out behind a white membrane. Song Weishi opened her mouth. Everything before her eyes blurred and doubled, transforming into a series of doors. One of them was green—the same door she'd seen at the mountain stream. She stood before it, as if a single step would take her back to her original world.

She said, "I want to."

In an instant, a boom echoed through her mind. All sound dissolved into song—a haunting melody from beyond the heavens, drowning out her senses and perception.

She felt her soul slip free of her body, drifting to who knows where, then snapped back all at once. The weightlessness of a disembodied spirit hit her hard, leaving her dizzy and nauseous, nearly throwing up.

Song Weishi didn't know how much time passed. Maybe only a few minutes. Even the sky hadn't changed.

In a moment, all her senses flooded back. Her ear felt blocked, muffled. Remembering that horrifying conversation, she shot up from her chair.

She tilted her head and slapped the clogged ear. A small blood clot fell out onto her hand—a tiny jumping spider, its red eyes fixed on her, waving its furry legs as if dancing.

No matter how she looked at it, it was bizarre.

Song Weishi instantly thought of the little girl. Her mutation was clearly different from what they'd seen in the snow. Could this be the culprit?

Sure enough, she heard the voice again: "Host, do you want to go home?"

This time, the voice came from far away—from the jumping spider in her hand. Without hesitation, Song Weishi flung it to the ground and crushed it under her foot.

She'd thought she was safe, but the true source had been right there. If the thing had managed to burrow into her brain, would she have ended up like that girl—with spider limbs sprouting from her back?

The thought sent a chill down her spine. She ground the spider under her heel a few more times for good measure.

The commotion woke the aunts who were still lying down.

The spider on the ground was flattened—an ordinary little jumper squashed into a smear.

"What's wrong, Xiao Song? Is it time to go?" Sister Chen rubbed her sleepy eyes, puzzled to see how bright it still was outside.

Song Weishi nodded. "Yes, about that time. I just found the thing that turned that child into a monster."

At those words, everyone's drowsiness vanished.

"Where?! Where is it? I'll kill it!" Aunt Huang was especially tense, grabbing a weapon in an instant.

Song Weishi pointed at the red smear on the ground. "A jumping spider. I already killed it."

They leaned in to examine it closely. None of them dared question whether Song Weishi was joking—in this world, anything bizarre was possible.

A jumping spider killing someone wasn't all that surprising. Aunt Huang trusted Song Weishi implicitly and relaxed the moment she saw the bloodstain.

"Thank goodness it's dead. Let me pack up and we can leave—I don't want to stay here. We can just eat on the road."

She had dry flatbread in her pack. It stored well and was extremely dry; a few chunks with water would stave off hunger, no cooking needed. It was their go-to when they didn't have time to eat.

No one objected. They quickly packed their belongings. Song Weishi stared at the spider on the ground and let out a long breath. She had no idea how she'd avoided being parasitized, but at least she'd come through unscathed.

Still—wasn't it too quiet?

Something was missing...

She frowned and squeezed her pant leg. Her ears were silent except for the aunts' packing sounds. No one was talking. The System—the System hadn't spoken at all!

She called out to it in her mind. Normally the System would respond even if it was sulking, but now no matter how she called, there was nothing.

A knot of anxiety tightened in her chest. This had never happened before.

She kept calling: "What's wrong? Why aren't you talking?"

Vague memories surfaced—the System had called her name while trying to stop her. That was the first time it had ever addressed her as anything other than "Host."

What had happened to it?

The others had finished packing and saw Song Weishi still standing there. They waved at her. "Xiao Song, come on! It's getting dark enough. Let's head out and ride over."

Song Weishi had no choice but to follow, climbing onto her bike. The small mountain village faded behind them as they hit the highway, the tranquil cluster of houses shrinking to a speck on the road before vanishing entirely.

She pedaled and called for the System, but no matter how she shouted, there was no response.

The interface before her could still be pulled up. She could navigate to the shopping cart and the store without issue.

But her entire personal panel had turned gray, like an app hidden in the background.

She didn't know how to track the System down. Thinking back to that "boom," she even suspected it had triggered some kind of protective mechanism.

Otherwise, there was no way she'd have come through that situation intact.

She checked her energy reserves. All zeroed out.

A terrible thought struck her: what if the System had left this world entirely? The System was her greatest asset. If her guess was right, how was she supposed to face the road ahead?

For the first time, she felt lost. The companion she'd spent every day with had vanished, and she hadn't realized how much she'd miss it until now.

"This is my first mission. Although my earlier thoughts weren't aligned with yours, this isn't bad. I sincerely hope to cooperate with you."

"Hello, Host."

"Host, are you okay?"

"Song Weishi, no! Did you hear me? I said no!"

[System: °ω°]

Remembering all their moments together, she felt a dull ache in her chest, like a wad of cotton stuck in her throat.

"Where are you, System?"

She pulled out the electric card the System had given her. It had never told her what to do if it disappeared.

She'd always overlooked the fact that their connection was one-way. If the System vanished, she had no way to find it.

She'd assumed the System couldn't exist without her. But now it seemed that wasn't the case.

Even though she was still alive, the System had suddenly disappeared.

Song Weishi was so distracted on the road that she nearly crashed into roadside barriers several times.

The group stopped, worried. Yuan Ayi pulled out her little folding stool and refused to let Song Weishi sit on the ground.

"What's wrong, Xiao Song? Did the spider scare you today?" Xie Huiying asked.

Song Weishi pressed her lips together and shook her head, saying nothing.

She was still calling for the System, but her mind remained empty.

Without that familiar voice, she'd question whether this was all a dream—if not for her space still working.

Song Weishi was quieter than ever before. The aunts, sensing her low mood, wisely didn't press her.

They ate a meal. Song Weishi chewed a dry piece of bread and pretended nothing was wrong.

She idly opened today's shopping cart.

The little cart's circle spun as today's picks refreshed:

[Chocolate-filled soft bun 40g x1]

[Cherry tomatoes 280g x1]

[Baby bok choy 3 heads x1]

The sudden drop in quality made her heart sink. She'd grown used to the good stuff the cart used to offer.

Had those all been gifts from the System?

How else could she explain the glaring difference in the cart?

She popped a cherry tomato into her mouth. It was bland and mushy, like clearance produce about to expire. Awful.

Then she ate one of the cherries from before. The sweet fruit burst in her mouth, completely masking the tomato's taste.

The next few days passed slowly. She refreshed the supermarket cart again and again, but the results were mostly cheap goods: steamed buns, corn dogs, a slice of bacon at best, plus useless stationery, paper crafts, and toys she'd never touch. She was certain now—the System had been giving her special treatment all along.

No, not special treatment. It was like spoon-feeding her a feast, terrified she might not live well. But the System had never said a word about it. It had been awkwardly good to her, so good she'd taken it all for granted.

She'd even asked it for an electricity card once, which must have cost a fortune in energy. Her principle had always been to look out for herself first and others second. But even someone as hard-hearted as her couldn't help being moved by the System's help. She was human, after all—a living, breathing human who couldn't completely cast aside her feelings.

That thought made her feel even worse. Where had it gone? Why hadn't it left her even a single message?

After days of travel, they stayed on the national highway the entire time. The dangers below the road couldn't compare to what was up there.

Finally, after eight days of relentless effort, they reached the outskirts of Huihai City.

They crested a mountain and saw a stretch of blue sea beside the highway. A damp, salty breeze drifted toward them.

Everyone felt the coolness—like a normal summer, nothing like the steam-room heat that had been suffocating them.

"Are we here?" Sister Chen stopped and gazed at the sea. The distant ships dotted the dark water like stars, their lights twinkling faintly.

"We're here!" Xie Huiying hurried to the railing and carefully compared the map.

This was the place, no doubt.

Fifty kilometers along this coastline lay Huihai City.

The temperature had dropped almost abruptly. It was still hot—coastal summers weren't much better—but it was genuinely comfortable here!

Everyone pedaled with renewed vigor, eager to reach the port of Huihai City.

They got off the highway early and followed the coastline, because the traffic jam ahead was so bad even bicycles couldn't pass.

They sped through the night breeze. Xie Huiying's phone was dead, so she couldn't contact anyone inside the city. They'd have to find a checkpoint nearby to make contact.

Looking down from above, Huihai City glittered with lights—a sight they hadn't seen in a long time. It was completely different from the lifeless cities they'd passed. Pedestrians moved along the streets below.

There were people still traveling ahead of them, but most were on foot, slower than Song Weishi's group.

Along the road, they passed more people who had collapsed. They were so close to their destination, yet they'd fallen right before the threshold of survival.

Song Weishi and the others were numb to such scenes by now. They kept their heads down and pressed forward until they finally saw the city checkpoint.

Ahead were floods of refugees who had come from all over the region.

Many people had settled along the way, the less scorching areas helping to shoulder some of Huihai City's population.

More still had never made it here—they'd died on the road. Those who reached this point were the truly formidable.

Food, water, and heat resistance—all were essential.

The checkpoint was orderly. Armed security guards maintained order. From the slope, they could see the crowds below, and everyone eagerly charged down.

The group's gear was far better than most. They weren't ragged, and compared to the wandering refugees, they looked decent.

A monitoring station stood at the checkpoint. A loudspeaker looped announcements: "Please voluntarily undergo entry inspection. Maintain order. Please voluntarily undergo entry inspection. Maintain order. Cooperate with the health screening."

That announcement was strange. Song Weishi wondered if Huihai City also had mutant monsters.

She instinctively called out to the System, but no familiar voice answered. A pang of disappointment hit her. She wouldn't be able to discuss this with it after all.

They joined the back of the line. It was already past four in the morning; the sun would rise soon.

Those still waiting to enter grew anxious—a fear of sunlight.

Though everyone could feel the temperature dropping, panic still crept in.

A few men in the middle of the line grew agitated and started shoving the people ahead of them, cursing as they pushed out of line and cut straight to the front, trying to skip ahead.

They bulldozed past several families and stood near the entrance, waiting for inspection.

The families they'd shoved didn't take it lying down. In seconds, a fight broke out.

"What's wrong with you? Don't you know first come, first served? We all went through the same thing. Who's afraid of who!"

They brawled with the line-cutters. The men shouted and fought back at first, not intimidated at all, but everyone's temper was short in the heat. It didn't matter whether it was their business—people came up and landed a few kicks on the line-cutters.

Song Weishi leaned on her bike seat, watching coldly.

Soon, the line-cutters were beaten back down, and order was restored.

The security guard at the entrance had witnessed everything but made no move to intervene.

It seemed order here wasn't as strong as she'd imagined. Or perhaps the city also followed the law of the jungle.

If you could fight for yourself, you didn't rely on others.

The line moved slowly. As the sky brightened, the crowd at the checkpoint grew visibly restless.

Everyone instinctively raised umbrellas or put on sun protection. Some of the timid and frail had already retreated to the shade of nearby trees, watching and waiting, abandoning their place in line.

The aunts habitually opened their umbrellas too. The temperature wasn't high here, but they'd rather be safe than sorry.

The hot air seemed blocked by the mountains, and an occasional cool sea breeze drifted through.

Song Weishi felt wonderfully comfortable. The thought that she'd have phone access once she entered the city made the wait less tedious.

The sun rose. The early morning light was faint, nowhere near as hot as she'd expected. The group kept their umbrellas up, but the temperature held steady.

Everyone let out a sigh of relief. Even the people who'd hidden in the shade returned to the line, though no one dared lower their sun protection. It had become a habit.

She watched the crowd as the line inched forward. Finally, it was their turn.

People entered in groups of five. Song Weishi ended up separated from the five aunts. They looked back at her, then asked the security guard at the door.

"Can we go in as six? She's with us."

The guard shook his head, his tone impatient. "No need to fuss. You'll be grouped together once you're inside. Hurry in—don't hold up the people behind you."

The aunts turned to Song Weishi. She nodded. "It's fine. Go ahead. I'll be right there."

They entered the quarantine chamber. Song Weishi waited outside for a few minutes before the checkpoint let the next group in.

The inspection point was a white building, its smooth surface a stark contrast to the grimy floor.

The inspection chamber was a sealed capsule, like an astronaut's return module.

Cold blue light fell on her, and for a moment she felt like she was back in modern society. Before this, she'd been living like the heroine of a melodrama—no supplies, and boring beyond belief.

The capsule door opened, and she and the other four entered.

Inside was a white seat. Across from it, a large screen. As Song Weishi sat down, disposable medical supplies unfolded before her. A mechanical arm extended from the white wall, a needle drawing a blood sample.

She was impressed—Huihai City was quite advanced. So many medical facilities.

They could even run full physicals on every entrant. The city's tech level seemed to be on a whole different tier from the outside world.

Of course, she'd never visited a hospital in this world, so she had no idea if they were fully automated too.

Back in the snow, she'd never found a hospital, and later the heat was so brutal she spent all her time on the road, never getting a chance to scavenge.

She knew nothing about this world's medical infrastructure.

These automated machines fascinated her.

After confirming her vein, the mechanical arm drew blood and retracted. The entire room ran a CT scan, sweeping her from head to toe.

There was even a strength test. Song Weishi pulled a 25kg dumbbell, then moved up to 45kg.

The screen displayed her overall physical condition.

Height: 166

Weight: 106

Overall assessment: 98 (Excellent)

Since her System points had grown, so had her physical fitness. After completing all the tests, Song Weishi finally stepped out of the capsule.

Everyone who exited was assigned to a bus. Following a guard's directions, Song Weishi found the red double-decker at the front.

She didn't see the aunts. Before boarding, she asked the relatively kind-looking female guard: "Excuse me, do you know where my friends went?"

"Five middle-aged aunts, about this tall. They came in together."

The female guard was young. She tilted her head toward Song Weishi, then glanced at the double-decker.

Huihai City's population had exploded due to refugees, leaving the security teams and scouting squads understaffed. The higher-ups intended to select some newcomers to fill the ranks.

The people boarding this bus had solid physical fitness. They might even become her colleagues.

She hesitated, then whispered to Song Weishi: "They're on that blue bus. You won't be in the same quarantine zone. You'll have to reunite after you're inside."

Then she left without another word.

Song Weishi spotted a blue bus in the distance. So they even quarantined different zones. She'd wanted to wave goodbye to the aunts, but the guards kept everyone separated, so she dropped the idea.

She stepped onto the bus, and a wave of cold air hit her. The air conditioning was on.

She felt like she'd floated straight to heaven. No wonder people online said you had to make it to Huihai City—for refugees like them, this place was something else.

The bus was nearly empty, just a few young men and women. Everyone sat far apart, no eye contact, as if they didn't know each other.

Song Weishi found a corner seat. Several glances landed on her. Among this crowd, she was the cleanest, so it was natural she'd draw attention.

She ignored the stares. Looking down at the armrest, she spotted a charging port.

She pretended to pull her phone from her backpack and plugged it in.

A flicker of delight rose as the charge symbol appeared. Huihai City really did treat people well!

She hadn't abandoned her bicycle either—it was all tucked away in her space. She wasn't familiar with this place, but once the phone charged, she quickly switched on the network. It connected instantly.

She eagerly began researching the local situation. Just as she opened a news app to search, a commotion broke out outside:

"This bus has air conditioning! Why can she board and we can't? There's only two of us here! It's boiling—let us on!"

Outside, a handful of young people had crowded around the blue bus the aunts boarded. They wore only thin clothes, sweating profusely in the rising morning heat. Their faces were full of grievance.

Seeing the guards unmoved, the leader of the group grew bolder. He pushed past the guard and tried to force his way in. In an instant, the guards surrounded him and knocked him to the ground, pressing him facedown with a thud.

"You're not eligible. The quota is full. Next in line, move on."

The struggling man kept yelling, "But they're all going in! We've been waiting for a whole day!"

The guards paid him no mind, dragging him to the side until he quieted down.

Song Weishi watched from her seat. So even the quarantine assignment had tiers. The buses were only for those with decent physicals; everyone else had to wait in open-air holding pens.

A cold wave of awareness crept through her. This city's kindness had a cut-off line. She'd better keep her wits about her.

She couldn't help but want to discuss this with someone. But she had no one now.

The thought left a bitter taste on her tongue, and the silence in her head only made it worse.