If You Remember the Dumplings, I’ll Let You Live

“I want wontons for breakfast tomorrow.”
Su Lai’s voice carried the hoarseness of just waking up, which made it sound all the more real.
“The kind you used to make for me when I was little.
Fresh pork filling.”

Before falling asleep, he had kept his eyes shut, ear pressed to the wall.
He’d overheard the information that Wang Chunying chopped fresh meat every night to make wontons for her son.
The neighbors were quite dissatisfied about this, cursing and gossiping behind her back.

Mother Wang now distrusted his identity.
So the way to build her trust was to grasp more details about Wang Xiaosi’s life, to establish it through the minutiae of daily living.

Walls had ears.
These neighborhood gossips conveniently made it easier for Su Lai to learn to be a “good son.”

“Mom, all these years away from home, I kept thinking about this dish.
Craving it like crazy.”

Hearing this, Wang Chunying was momentarily stunned.
The hand gripping the cleaver suddenly loosened.
Both knives fell straight down, embedding themselves deeply into the foldable bed.

Bai Ke’s eyes bulged.
Before his open mouth could even close, Su Lai had already sat up and was pulling the two cleavers out of the bed for Wang Chunying.

“Mom, your cleavers fell.”
Su Lai handed the extracted knives to Wang Chunying.

Bai Ke was dumbfounded.
‘What a smooth reversal of roles.’

Wang Chunying’s murky eyeballs rolled once.
For the first time, a smile cracked across her face.
“Don’t be scared.
Mom was just chopping meat.
Fatty meat, lots of oil.
My hands slipped.”

As she spoke, she wiped her hands, sticky with blood and meat residue, on her apron.
She took the cleavers her “son” handed her.

“Little Four.
Mom will let you eat wontons.
The fresh pork filling wontons you love…”
The expressionless Wang Chunying disappeared.
Though her eyes remained cloudy, the corners of her mouth stayed lifted upwards.
“You remember… you remember Mom’s wontons…
All these years, you still haven’t forgotten…”

She kept muttering, the hand clutching the cleaver trembling uncontrollably.

Su Lai watched her unsteady knife, reminding her.
“Mom, be careful with your knife.”
“I’m sleepy.
Want to sleep.”
Su Lai lazily yawned again in front of Wang Chunying.

From Wang Chunying’s emotional shift, he was confident he had gained the “mother’s” preliminary trust.

If he had a player’s system interface, he’d definitely receive a notification about increased trust points, Su Lai thought.

But since he wasn’t a player now, all aspects of his data couldn’t be quantified.
He could only feel his way across the river by touching the stones.

“Sleep, Little Four.
Mom will cook you steaming hot wontons tomorrow…”
Wang Chunying stiffly rotated her body, gripping the cleavers as she walked out of the room.

Bam—
She used her foot to close the door.

Only when the sound of footsteps once again echoed from the stairwell did Su Lai and Bai Ke both exhale heavily.

Bai Ke: “Boss, I really thought you weren’t afraid of that woman at all…”

Su Lai: “I’m not afraid of Mom.
But I’m afraid of the knives in her hands.”
“If I got stabbed, it would definitely hurt a lot.”

Su Lai was very afraid of pain.

Besides, cleavers that had just been chopping pork, no matter how you looked at it, weren’t very hygienic.
Su Lai might be poor, but he wasn’t an unhygienic person.

Having gained Wang Chunying’s preliminary trust, Su Lai believed she wouldn’t stage another raid tonight.

Su Lai put his earphones back on.
Finally, he slept soundly.
He even had a strange dream.

In the dream, his name was Wang Xiaosi.
He seemed to be a native-born resident of Spring Breeze Village.
The tall city buildings around hadn’t yet been constructed.
Above the alleys, there were no spiderweb-like cables.
Only an ever-present mist, damp and slow, flowing through his life.

Though his name in the dream was Wang Xiaosi, he didn’t remember Zhang San or Wang Chunying.
He didn’t remember Uncle Wang next door, either.

He only remembered having a very good playmate named Xiao Chang.

Xiao Chang’s hair was very long, loosely draped over his shoulders.
Occasionally, he’d tie it up with a red string.
A boy with hair this long—would classmates make fun of him?

In a place with so many people and so much gossip, being different from those around you meant being ostracized.
Standing out was never easy.
Even at a very young age, Su Lai understood this principle.

In the dream, his hands were mischievous.
He always loved tugging at Xiao Chang’s hair.
Soft strands slipped through his fingers, leaving behind winding traces of coldness.
The sensation, like something alive, spread and grew at his fingertips.

Su Lai withdrew his hand as if shocked.
The lingering feeling made him think of strings controlling puppets, or a fisherman’s line.
And Xiao Chang was the one setting the hook.

Su Lai decided not to be handsy anymore.
He obediently settled into being Xiao Chang’s playmate.

Xiao Chang always carried a black velvet cat plushie.
Su Lai didn’t like the plushie’s red glass bead eyes.
That deep, murky red resembled two bottomless pits of blood.
So he removed the plushie’s eyes and secretly buried them in the backyard.

The cat plushie finally lost its blood-pit eyes.
It became an innocent, blind little doll.
Xiao Chang held the blind plushie, utterly unconcerned, as if he hadn’t noticed a thing.

Until one afternoon during a game of hide-and-seek.
Xiao Chang covered Su Lai’s eyes.
Silently, he slipped the glass beads, covered with damp soil, into Su Lai’s pocket.
They were the red beads originally embedded in the cat plushie’s face.

Guilty conscience made Su Lai say nothing.
He stood rooted to the spot like a wooden post.

Xiao Chang covered Su Lai’s eyes and said.
“Ah Lai, even though you broke my toy…”
“I still really like you.”

Su Lai couldn’t make a sound in the dream.

“Come find me,” Xiao Chang said.

The mist turned into drizzling ashes.
Finally, even the ashes disappeared.
All colors faded to black and white.
His retina was covered with dancing snow-like static, just like that broken TV in Wang Xiaosi’s living room.

The signal cut off.
The dream ended.
Su Lai’s earphones fell out.
The clamor of pots and pans rushed in like a tide.

Day had broken.
But the ceiling of the handshake building let in no daylight.
He lay on the creaking foldable bed, staring at the mold spots blooming above him.

A very strange dream.

In Su Lai’s memory, there really was a playmate named Xiao Chang.

Memories of Xiao Chang were fragmented and chaotic.
He had tried to verify with people around him.
But everyone told him the same answer—

There never was any Xiao Chang.
Su Lai’s childhood playmate never existed.

Once, Su Lai had been preoccupied with this.
He was certain Xiao Chang existed.
He would find him.
But as he grew older, the trivial matters of life occupied everything.
This obsession gradually faded.
Su Lai hadn’t thought of Xiao Chang for a very long time.

Why did Xiao Chang suddenly appear in his dream?
And in his dream as “Wang Xiaosi”?

Was it “daytime thoughts, nighttime dreams”?
Or had contamination tampered with his memories?

Staring too long, the mold spots on the ceiling began moving like cells, shadowy and indistinct.
Su Lai blinked.
Everything returned to stillness.

“Xiao Chang, who are you?”
Su Lai murmured to himself, sitting up in bed.

No matter who Xiao Chang was, he had to remember he was Su Lai.
Not Wang Xiaosi.
Losing one’s identity in an instance was dangerous.

Wang Chunying’s footsteps once again sounded from the stairwell.

“Cousin, it’s dawn.”
Su Lai pushed Bai Ke, who had covered his face with a pillow.
“Mom’s here.”

Bai Ke shot up like a leaping carp.
Dark circles under his eyes, he subconsciously asked.
“Auntie, where?”

Su Lai gestured with his eyes.
Wang Chunying had already reached the door.

Knock-knock-knock.
Three knocks, and the door opened.
The moment he saw Wang Chunying, Bai Ke’s suspended heart dropped back down.

Good.
Wang Chunying in the morning wasn’t carrying knives.

“Little Four, I’ve cooked you fresh pork wontons.”
Wang Chunying shifted her gaze to Bai Ke, her smile diminishing slightly.
“Xiao’er, come have a bowl too.”

Su Lai: “We’ll be right there.”

Wang Chunying left first.
The two exchanged glances.
After a quick wash, they followed Mother Wang downstairs.

“Did you have any strange dreams last night?” Su Lai asked Bai Ke.

Bai Ke listlessly shook his head.
“I was tense all night.
Only fell asleep close to dawn.”
He glanced at Su Lai, who looked refreshed and energetic.
‘Comparing people just annoys people,’ he thought.

Four bowls of steaming wontons were already cooked.
Uncle Wang, as usual, had turned on the TV and was avidly watching the static on the screen.

Su Lai: “Smells great.”

Wang Chunying, setting the table, revealed a loving but stiff smile.

Bai Ke whispered quietly.
“Cousin, is it really okay to eat the wontons?”

Su Lai: “Hard to say.
But not eating will definitely cause problems.”

Bai Ke: “…”
He glanced at the kitchen.
Wang Chunying’s two meat-cleavers were still stuck in the chopping board.

Su Lai: “Besides, Mom stayed up late chopping the filling.
Much better than pre-made dishes outside.”

The corner of Bai Ke’s mouth twitched.
If he had the choice, he’d willingly eat pre-made dishes for ten years rather than the delicacies in this instance.
‘This boss’s nerves really weren’t normal.’

The four sat down.
Uncle Wang reluctantly kept staring at the TV.
Su Lai was the first to pick up his spoon and scoop a wonton.
He had checked Wang Chunying’s fridge last night.
There were no strange types of meat hidden inside.
When Wang Chunying was chopping meat, no outsider had delivered any meat either.
He could rule out it being meat from that unlucky “vagrant.”

Besides, he had gained Wang Chunying’s preliminary trust.
She wouldn’t harm her “son.”

“Delicious.”
Su Lai ate wontons one after another.
The smile on Wang Chunying’s face grew wider.

Seeing the boss had set an example, Bai Ke also steeled himself and ate a wonton.
His eyes immediately widened.
Indeed, the wontons had an old-fashioned taste but were fresh and fragrant.

He decided to retract his nonsense about being willing to eat pre-made dishes for ten years.

Watching Su Lai eagerly ask for a second bowl of wontons, Wang Chunying’s smile grew increasingly maternal.

Uncle Wang: “Little Four’s been away from home all these years.
He’s become well-behaved.”

“He’s also grown taller.”
Wang Chunying looked up, gratified.

Bai Ke coughed, almost choking.
He quickly buried his head and silently ate his wontons.

“Little Four, I’ll tidy up your room for you in a bit,” Wang Chunying said.
“Your room’s been empty for so long.
It smells musty.”

Su Lai: “Thanks, Mom.”
He and Bai Ke swiftly exchanged glances.
As Wang Chunying’s trust in her “son” increased, the storyline of Wang Xiaosi’s sealed bedroom had unlocked.

The sealed room should contain more clues about Wang Xiaosi.
Mastering everything about Wang Xiaosi would help him more smoothly become Wang Chunying’s “good son.”

Su Lai guessed that only by “resolving” the NPC could one dig out the story behind them, and also figure out the logic behind how the rules operated.

After breakfast, Su Lai got up to wash the dishes with Bai Ke.
But Wang Chunying pressed him back down.
“Little Four, you sit.
Keep Uncle Wang company watching TV.”

Wang Chunying had begun to begrudge letting her “son” do chores.

“Okay.”
Su Lai picked up the palm-leaf fan Uncle Wang had left on the table and, without any self-consciousness, started fanning himself.

Uncle Wang said nothing.
He continued staring at the signal-less screen.

Bai Ke was dragooned into washing dishes with Wang Chunying.
This was his first time alone with an NPC.
Throughout the dishwashing process, he was terrified.
His peripheral vision unconsciously kept drifting to the cleavers stuck in the chopping board, and the blood-stained apron Wang Chunying wore.

Because his attention was scattered, and he hadn’t slept well last night, his hand slipped.
He nearly dropped a bowl.

Bai Ke immediately broke out in a cold sweat, panicking.
Wang Chunying’s murky eyes rolled, then shifted sideways towards him.
“Xiao’er, don’t be so clumsy washing dishes.
Bowls are expensive.
Our family can’t afford to break them.”

Bai Ke steeled himself, burying his head and continuing to wash.
“Sorry, Auntie.
Like my cousin told you, I’ve got a bit of Parkinson’s.
My hands shake easily.
Please bear with me.”

He was learning.
He knew Cousin Lai was favored by Wang Chunying now, so he deliberately invoked what Su Lai had said to evade responsibility.

Sure enough, Wang Chunying rolled her eyes back.
“You and my Little Four really get along well.”
“Little Four’s always been solitary since he was young.
It’s not easy for him to have a cousin he gets along with.
Blood relation doesn’t matter.”

The water rushed noisily.
The living room basically couldn’t hear the conversation between the two washing dishes in the kitchen.

Su Lai walked in front of the TV.
“Uncle Wang, can I change the channel?”

Uncle Wang nodded, silent.

Su Lai tried turning a few channels.
Nothing but snowy static.

Su Lai gave up, sat back down on the small stool, and asked Uncle Wang.
“Is the TV good to watch?”

Uncle Wang nodded.
“Good.”

“What’s good about it?”
Su Lai asked curiously.

Uncle Wang raised his hand, pointed at the screen, and grinned.
“No shadows.”

No shadows?
What did that mean?
Su Lai approached the TV again.
He stared blankly at the static-filled screen for a moment, his eyes growing sore.
So he simply slapped the TV off.

Anyway, he wasn’t a player now.
No system restrictions bound him.
He could do whatever he wanted.
Uncle Wang didn’t have a knife.
The knives were on “Mom’s” chopping board.

And Uncle Wang was afraid of his “Mom.”

“Is it still good now?”
Su Lai turned his head to ask Uncle Wang, his tone utterly justified.

He watched as serenity vanished from Uncle Wang’s face.
The man became visibly terrifying.
“Turn on the TV!
Turn on the TV right now!”

Su Lai wasn’t in a hurry.
The TV was in his hands, after all.
He glanced at the panicked Uncle Wang, then at the TV screen without static.
In the turned-off TV screen, he saw his own and Uncle Wang’s reflections.

Reflections?
So that was it.

It seemed Uncle Wang didn’t like watching signal-less TV.
Rather, a TV that was on didn’t leave reflections of its viewers.

Why was he afraid of his own mirror image?
Speaking of which, this house didn’t seem to have any mirrors either.

Did mirrors hold some special significance in this world?

While he was thinking, Bai Ke finished washing the dishes and came over.

“Your mom kept probing about my personal situation,” Bai Ke whispered.
“My age, job, income, marital status, that kind of stuff.
It’s so weird.”

Su Lai: “Remember you’re Wang Xiaoer.”

Bai Ke: “Don’t worry, I remember.
I’m your non-blood-related cousin.
Suffering from Parkinson’s.”
He decided to silently recite this sentence every half hour.

“I wonder what your mom plans to do asking all this…”
Bai Ke muttered, feeling vaguely uneasy.

Su Lai: “Maybe she wants to set you up with someone.”
Age, job, income—these factors were all for valuation in the dating market.
And Wang Chunying had also asked about his marital status.

Bai Ke froze.
“What?
She’s not trying to arrange a ghost marriage for me, is she… Holy shit!”

His ranting abruptly stopped.
Bai Ke looked at his system panel.
An ordinary-looking interface now had an extra column: Resident Affection Value.

In other words, his behavior just now—washing dishes and chatting alone with Wang Chunying—had not only activated the affection value, but had instantly increased his Resident Affection by five points.

[System detected that you have unlocked Resident Affection Value and gained 5 Affection points.]

[Affection can be converted into Survival Time.]
[1 Affection point = 1 hour Survival Time.]
[Would you like to convert immediately?]

“Convert! Right now! All of it—” The excited Bai Ke quickly calmed down.
“Wait, can you convert 3 points for me first?”

[Affirmative.]
[System has converted Resident Affection into Survival Time for you.]
[Converted Affection Value: 3 points.]
[Survival Time +3h.]
[Remaining Survival Time: 36 + 3 = 39h.]

Bai Ke immediately checked the affection value change.
The total was still 5 points, but the 3 points converted into survival time had turned red.
The unconverted 2 points remained green.

In other words, converting affection into survival time didn’t decrease the total affection value itself.
But the converted points could no longer be used.

“Cousin, with this affection thing this good, why didn’t you tell me sooner?”
Bai Ke assumed Su Lai had already farmed affection from the NPC last night and just hadn’t told him about this rule.

After all, Wang Chunying personally cooked wontons for Su Lai and didn’t want him to do dishes.
Who would believe that without having some affection points?
And seeing that Su Lai wasn’t urgently trying to earn survival time, he’d probably already mastered the method to extend his life.

Su Lai, hearing this, knew that Bai Ke the player had unlocked a new gameplay rule.

Su Lai: “If I talk too much, it might interfere with your judgment.”
“That way, you’d sleep even worse.”
He put on an inscrutable expression, as if he knew a great deal.

Bai Ke thought about it.
He hadn’t had the chance to farm affection last night.
If he were too impatient, he might mess things up.

“Affection points, what’s your take?” Su Lai countered.

Because his tone was too calm, it instead seemed like he was testing Bai Ke.

Bai Ke sorted out his thoughts and honestly laid out his views.
From his words, Su Lai extracted information: NPC affection could be converted into survival time.

So the question was: What was the upper limit of affection?
Was the exchange rate fixed?
What was the upper limit for farming a single NPC?

If he wasn’t a player, did that mean he was an NPC?
If a player farmed his affection, would they get corresponding points?

Whenever Su Lai had questions, he immediately sought verification.
He said to Bai Ke: “Try farming my affection.”

Bai Ke was shocked.
“What?”

Su Lai: “Don’t forget I’m Wang Chunying’s son, Wang Xiaosi.”

Bai Ke suddenly realized.
“True.
You’re also part of the original residents.
Maybe you can…”
“Cousin, what do you like?”
Bai Ke’s eyes lit up, eager to try.

Su Lai looked at him for a second.
“Forget it.
New plan.”
He gave up remarkably quickly.

After all, he didn’t have any excess goodwill towards anyone.
Farming his affection would definitely be even harder than Uncle Wang’s.

Better not torment Bai Ke and himself.

Just then, the TV suddenly emitted a crackle.
Uncle Wang, who had already turned the TV back on, became intensely focused.

Su Lai and Bai Ke turned their heads in unison.
The static vanished from the screen.
A picture reappeared on the TV.

Yet another host with cloudy eyes and a blurry face.
Except this morning’s host wore a Spring Breeze Village Committee work badge—

“The following is an urgent announcement.”
“External residents who checked into Spring Breeze Community last night are required to assemble at the Village Committee before 7 AM this morning.”
“To maintain public order and stability in Spring Breeze Community, all external personnel must arrive punctually and cooperate with the community’s work arrangements.”

Having delivered the assembly notice, the TV screen flickered and returned to snowy static.

Su Lai, familiar with infinite flow novels, understood clearly.
This was the system issuing a collective task.

It was now 6:40.
Twenty minutes left.
With an e-bike, they had ample time.

Before leaving, Su Lai deliberately reminded Uncle Wang.
“Uncle, you could get a curtain to cover the TV.
Leaving it on all the time wastes electricity.”
“Urban village utilities are commercial rates.
Expensive.”

Covering the TV would eliminate the problem of reflective surfaces.

Uncle Wang didn’t respond.
Wang Chunying, standing nearby, nodded repeatedly.
“Little Four has really grown up.
Thoughtful.
Full of ideas.”
“Go early, come back early.”

“We’re off.”
Su Lai put on his helmet.
“Remember my mung bean ice cream.”

Bai Ke, sitting on the back seat hugging the delivery box, sighed emotionally.
“Good thing you drive an e-bike.
Otherwise, we wouldn’t have made it in time.”

Su Lai: “Right?
Don’t forget to settle the fare.
Prices went up today.
15 one-way.”

Bai Ke: “You’re price gouging.
That’s not fair.”

Su Lai: “I’m the only game in town.
Why be fair?”

Bai Ke: “…”