Chapter Five: Leave Without Pay

Xie Han still had many questions, but there was no time to ask Zhou Ruomeng more. His earlier shouts had already alerted the zombies lying on the distant ridge. A few sturdy zombie farmers, clad in tattered and worn clothing, wobbled to their feet and began shambling along the embankment toward Xie Han’s position. After being infected by the XR virus, the strength of these zombies was about three times that of an ordinary person; their only true weakness seemed to be their sluggish movement.

As the zombies drew closer, Xie Han could smell their putrid stench; they were only five or six meters away. He no longer cared about anything else and addressed the still-hazy Zhou Ruomeng, “If I need to see you, do I activate it with my mind as well?” Zhou Ruomeng replied, “Yes. My appearance can take two forms: the display form you see now, and a consciousness form.”

Having received a clear answer, Xie Han didn’t hesitate. The zombies were almost upon him, jaws gnashing. In a hurry, he used his mind to activate the teleportation function of his space-time watch. As the zombies lunged, Xie Han’s body gradually faded and disappeared from the spot.

During the teleportation, Xie Han felt only a brief darkness. In a matter of seconds, light returned, and he found himself lying on the bed in his single apartment. Surrounded by the familiar setting, he pinched his thigh hard just to be sure. A sharp pain made him cry out, and the cold sensation from the jet-black watch on his wrist provoked him to curse, “Damn it, this isn’t a dream.”

After uttering those words, Xie Han collapsed back onto the soft bed, breathing in the faint scent of sweat from the bedding, feeling as though he had lived a lifetime. Glancing at his watch, he saw the time had switched to this world’s clock, the numbers ticking away, reminding him that his three hours were slipping by, minute by minute.

He got up from the bed, pushed open the windows and door, and let the harsh sunlight pour in. Outside, in the yard of the government compound, retired officials sat under the trees, playing chess and chatting. It was workday morning—he hadn’t even asked for leave. He could already imagine his superiors preparing another lengthy lecture. Not that it mattered now; with the way things were, he doubted he’d be staying in his job much longer.

A wave of hunger hit him, but Xie Han wasn’t about to waste his precious three hours cooking. He grabbed his wallet from the cupboard and hurried out. Civil service pay wasn’t high, but the numerous bonuses made up for it; even in a quiet office, salary plus bonuses came to seven or eight thousand yuan a month. Xie Han wasn’t a big spender, and after two years of work, he had saved over a hundred thousand. With a few more years, he could have bought a car.

But now? Who cared about owning a car? Who knew if, after three hours, once he was sent back to the apocalypse, he would even survive the zombie onslaught. For now, the only thing that mattered was treating himself to a feast he’d never dared to imagine before.

This part of the city was in the eastern district of Chaoyang, where many government agencies clustered, and the proliferation of official banquets had attracted numerous luxury hotels. Not far from the statistics bureau was a three-star hotel. Xie Han had only been there once, for a superior’s grandson’s celebration. Of course, the tens of thousands spent had all been billed to the office.

With limited time, Xie Han ordered a few signature dishes and a bottle of 1990 red wine, and dined alone in style. He’d already decided that afterward, he would go to the office to file for leave without pay. His superiors would surely approve; in this environment, a leave of absence meant another lucrative position was opening up, ready for someone else to fill—a windfall worth tens of thousands in “activity funds.” Who wouldn’t be tempted?

Finishing the meal took over half an hour, leaving only two hours and seventeen minutes. The lost time stung him. He paid the bill and headed straight to the office—there was no time to waste.

Xie Han’s sudden appearance at the office surprised his colleagues. Even his supervisor wore a grim expression, clearly preparing to deliver a pointed lecture. But upon hearing Xie Han request leave without pay, the supervisor’s attitude flipped, a broad smile spreading across his face. Everyone knew what it meant—once you stopped drawing a salary, no one would care about your position. A simple pretext would be enough to dismiss you.

Xie Han had nothing much in the office to collect, though it was a pity to leave his computer behind, full of privately saved treasures. As he left, his supervisor escorted him out, expressing hollow regret, while a few colleagues came to see him off. Xie Han’s excuse was simple: he was going into business. The phrase “going to sea”—meaning to enter the business world—had been popular in the seventies and eighties, though it had faded by the 2000s.

Back at his apartment, Xie Han used his mind to summon Zhou Ruomeng’s AI program. This time, she seemed to be bathing and showed no embarrassment, letting the bubbles in the tub cover her body. She rolled her eyes at him and said, “Can’t you see I’m taking a bath?”

Xie Han’s eyes nearly popped out. Even though the bubbles concealed much, he could still glimpse that fair skin and those alluring curves that stirred his deepest desires.

Flustered, he turned away. “Does a program need to bathe?” he asked.

She rolled her eyes again. “I may be a program, but my intelligence is entirely based on your dream girl, Zhou Ruomeng.” Her voice became seductive, “And my body, my bathing movements and expressions—everything is exactly like your secret crush. Haven’t you fantasized about this countless times? If you don’t look now, you’ll miss your chance…”

Her words made Xie Han’s heart race. Facing his long-time crush, he almost lost all self-control. But with great effort, he suppressed his urges. “Alright, enough. Stop messing around. I only have an hour and forty minutes left. Time is short.”

Zhou Ruomeng laughed softly. She stretched out a delicate arm, conjuring a white curtain with a casual swipe, and began dressing behind it. The silhouette of her graceful figure projected on the curtain, coupled with the thought that she looked exactly like his secret love, made Xie Han want to run to her and kiss her wildly. Feeling the blood rush to his lower body, he gritted his teeth at the program, thinking, If she tempts me like this every day, I’ll go insane.

Soon, Zhou Ruomeng finished dressing and sat elegantly on a bamboo chair, her beauty fresh and radiant as a lotus emerging from water. The sight made Xie Han swallow involuntarily. She flicked her damp hair and asked, “So, what’s so urgent? Or have you missed your dream girl too much and wanted me out to ease your longing?”

Xie Han was thoroughly defeated. He raised his hand, admitting, “Fine, everything you said is true, okay?” Zhou Ruomeng giggled. Xie Han continued, “I just thought of something: if I bring objects from the apocalypse, will they carry the virus?”

This was a crucial question—if the items he brought back were contaminated with the XR virus, the consequences would be unimaginable.

Zhou Ruomeng replied, “The XR virus only infects living things. When the space-time watch initiates teleportation, it automatically scans and processes the storage; even if items carry the virus, it will be removed. There’s no need to worry about bringing the XR virus here. But note, this scan doesn’t include you; if you’re infected, the space-time watch will refuse to activate teleportation, so you won’t affect this world either.”

Relieved, Xie Han put Zhou Ruomeng back into the watch. He went to the kitchen and stuffed several bottles of cola, some instant noodles, and a few sausages from the fridge into his storage space. After a moment’s thought, he added a steel pot—he couldn’t eat instant noodles raw, after all. He didn’t forget cigarettes and alcohol, essential for mental sustenance. All together, the items nearly filled the cubic meter of space. Xie Han had considered that he’d have to spend twenty-one hours in the apocalypse—there would be little chance of finding food or water, judging by what he’d seen in the small town.