Chapter 193: The Second Day of Simulated Life

Chapter 193: Day Two of Life Simulation

The receptionist stepped out of the elevator, but no footsteps followed.

"Mr. Edmund?"

Puzzled, the receptionist turned around and saw the blond, blue-eyed man standing motionless. Had she not pressed the elevator button in time, the wealthy young man would have been trapped inside.

The man's gaze was vacant, like a robot whose CPU was frying from processing too much data at once. After a long daze, he finally came to, ruffled his hair absentmindedly, and undid the top button of his shirt out of habit, as if for air.

He asked, "Is this... Wan Neng Chao Xi? The tour’s already over?"

To the receptionist, these questions seemed bizarre. They had visited every department, and he had even met with the Founder. What else was there to see?

Had he suddenly lost his memory and forgotten the past hour?

Suppressing her confusion, the receptionist replied patiently, "Yes, sir. Today’s tour has been completed. Of course, if there’s anything else you’d like to explore further, Wan Neng Chao Xi’s doors are always open to you..."

"The tour’s over?" Edmund muttered under his breath. "Why can’t I remember anything?"

"Never mind. Maybe I didn’t sleep well last night... I have another appointment. Any investment matters can be handled by my agent."

Like many novelty-chasing rich kids, Edmund’s interest in Universal Capsules had come and gone quickly. He brushed off his confusion and strode out of the elevator.

Before leaving, he even gave the receptionist a flirtatious wink. "Thank you for your patience, beautiful lady."

The receptionist watched as the billionaire sauntered off, her expression slightly dazed.

The Edmund she had just interacted with felt... completely unfamiliar—

Almost as if... he had become a different person.

---

Western Waldor State, a coastal town.

A ragged vagrant hunched his back, skulking around a house, occasionally craning his neck to peer through the windows. His filthy eyes glinted with hunger.

He had scouted the place earlier—no one was home at this hour, making it the perfect time to strike.

The vagrant didn’t want much this time. No breaking, no killing—just some food, maybe a drink, and if he was lucky, a bit of spare change...

A bent wire slipped from his sleeve as he prepared to pick the lock. Suddenly, loud barking erupted nearby, the aggressive growls growing closer.

Cursing under his breath, the vagrant turned and fled, one sole flapping loose, quickly disappearing into the dense woods.

After a while, the barking faded.

The vagrant emerged from the bushes, disheveled, but his posture was no longer hunched. His back straightened, and his eyes cleared, sharp and alert.

Meng Siyou lowered his head, as if he could smell the reek of sweat and grime clinging to him. His expression was calm, tinged with resignation.

*"A beggar, or a billionaire—I can grant you either."*

The prophet’s amused voice echoed in his mind. Meng Siyou wasn’t laughing at all.

Who knew he’d actually end up as a beggar?!

At a time like this, did he have to take it so literally?

Just hours ago, Meng Siyou had been a billionaire, chauffeured in luxury cars, casually signing off on projects worth hundreds of millions.

Now, he was a dirt-poor vagrant. The whiplash was brutal.

As if fate was playing a cruel joke on him.

He exhaled hard. Meng Siyou began searching the vagrant’s belongings, hoping to find some basic information about this identity.

No ID, no wallet, an old phone without even a SIM card... Wait—since when do vagrants carry a wire and a rusted razor blade?

His stomach dropped.

He suspected this identity wasn’t just a homeless beggar—but possibly a wanted man.

Carrying a blade... Did this guy have bodies buried?

"On the bright side, I can turn him in before I leave. Clear the books," Meng Siyou thought wryly. "Besides, investigating near the coast might lead me to the source of those fish eggs. It’s dangerous—if I took over an innocent person’s body and dragged them into this, I’d never forgive myself..."

Unlike Edmund’s media circus of a meeting with Wan Neng Chao Xi, this place, possibly the origin of the fish eggs, was a whole other ballgame...

Meng Siyou found a public restroom and washed the grime from under the vagrant’s nails at a crude sink. He roughly combed his tangled hair, feeling halfway decent.

"Congratulations."

In the mirror, Wu Suer eyed him critically before nodding reluctantly. "From an ordinary vagrant to one with... standards and standards."

"..."

Meng Siyou forced a bitter smile. "Mind telling me who I am now?"

"You’ve probably guessed. A fugitive with a rap sheet longer than your arm: three counts of gang brawls, one attempted child molestation, multiple thefts. Then, during a late-night burglary, he got into a fight with the homeowner and killed him by accident," Wu Suer said casually. "Use this identity however you like. Sink or swim, it’s up to you."

With that, Wu Suer vanished, leaving Meng Siyou staring at the vagrant in the mirror. The more he looked, the more rat-faced the man seemed. "...Great."

It was mealtime. Dragging his starving body through the town, Meng Siyou scanned the house numbers one by one.

Number three, number four...

His eyes lit up when he finally spotted it—Number Six, the house the late Wen De had pointed to.

Like the other houses in town, Number Six had white bricks and a blue roof, some edges eaten by salt air. It didn’t look well-off.

But unlike the others, a ramshackle lean-to stood beside it.

Under the shed, a few just as broken-down vagrants lounged or sat against the wall, a row of chipped bowls placed along the base.

When Meng Siyou approached, they barely glanced at him. Recognizing him as one of their own, they lost interest immediately, returning to their thousand-yard stares—a numb, lifeless indifference to the world.

Meng Siyou tried to strike up a conversation, but no one responded.

The friendlier ones turned their backs and pretended to sleep. The ruder ones waved him off like he was a bad smell.

After prowling uselessly, Meng Siyou noticed the front door of Number Six swing open—

The idle vagrants under the shed came alive like puppets, as if receiving a dinner bell only they could hear. Each grabbed a bowl and hurried to the door, noses twitching like animals, peering inside eagerly, like stray dogs waiting for a handout.

A broad, middle-aged woman appeared behind the door, standing beside a large iron pot and ladle. She barked out:

"It's mealtime, everyone line up—no cutting in line, no fighting, or you won't get any food!"

The homeless men seemed familiar with this routine, automatically forming a line as they waited for the plump woman to give each of them a piece of hard bread and a bowl of salted fish soup.

"Only one piece of bread per person, no more," the plump woman said, hands on her hips. "And at most two bowls of soup—no use begging."

Meng Siyou observed the scene and gradually understood: the owner of House No. 6 was charitable, likely accustomed to handing out food to beggars.

Wait—did the prophet give him a beggar’s identity… was it for this reason?

Using begging as a cover to get close to the investigation target?

Meng Siyou began steeling himself, urging himself to abandon dignity and principles, to learn how to beg like these homeless men… But perhaps his fidgety, unsure manner was too obvious, immediately catching the plump woman’s attention.

She tapped the iron pot with her ladle, making a clanging sound, and asked Meng Siyou directly, "New here? Want food? I can get you a bowl."

"..."

Meng Siyou wore an awkward expression, rubbing his growling stomach before nodding with difficulty. "Yes… thank you."

As she ladled the soup for him, the plump woman paused, eyeing this unfamiliar face with curiosity. "How unusual—hearing such polite talk from someone like you."

Unsure how to respond, Meng Siyou lowered his head and took a sip of the soup.

The briny saltiness carried the distinct fishy odor of sea fish, rushing from his tongue straight to his nose. The salty broth was mixed with gritty, cheap salt, rolling down his throat and nearly choking him.

The plump woman eyed him curiously and asked casually, "Just passing through? What do you plan to do next?"

'Plan to send the original owner to prison…'

What future could a wanted criminal possibly have?

Of course, Meng Siyou couldn’t voice his real thoughts, so he waved at the starving homeless men around him. "Probably the same as them—panhandling my way around."

"Same as them?" The plump woman scoffed. "But I can see in your eyes you’re nothing like them. You have a goal, something you’d do anything to achieve."

"Your wandering is just a process, not the end."

Meng Siyou realized this woman was far sharper than he’d figured.

If that was the case, beating around the bush might backfire… Perhaps he could just come right out and ask directly about Wen De.

So, he followed her lead. "I've got big plans, but I don’t know how to achieve them yet… When I passed through this town, I had to stop because I heard it was the hometown of a legendary figure."

By now, he could already see the woman's expression change slightly.

She *did* know Wen De!

Feigning ignorance, he continued, "He’s the Founder of Wan Neng Chao Xi Pharmaceuticals, Mr. Wen De—my personal hero. Could you tell me about his experiences?"

"Wen De…"

The plump woman fell silent for a moment before sighing. "Now that he’s made it big, everyone outside thinks he’s a brilliant genius. But I know—Wen De was just a poor kid."

"After his parents died, I looked after him for a spell, so I know him a little. If you’re curious, pull up a step and let's chat."

She sat on the front steps, casually patting the next step down to signal Meng Siyou to join her. Then she asked, "What's the word out there about Wen De?"

Meng Siyou summarized the receptionist’s account, roughly recounting the rumors circulating outside.

"They actually think Wen De needed sleeping pills to fall asleep?"

Halfway through, the plump woman couldn’t help interjecting in disbelief. "No, no—Wen De never struggled with insomnia. Quite the opposite. He was *afraid* of falling asleep, even pushing himself to stay awake for two days straight at times."

Afraid of sleep?

Meng Siyou picked up on something strange and pushed on. "Why?"

"He said… someone was calling to him in his dreams," the woman paused before continuing, "and Wen De feared and rejected whatever was calling him."