Chapter 58: The Most Pathetic Kidnapper in History

What is the most unbearable experience in the world? Is it to lose one’s father in youth, a spouse in middle age, and a child in old age, to suffer all three losses in one lifetime?

Of course not.

At least in those three cases, one once had a father, a spouse, a child. There are those who have nothing at all and don’t feel particularly affected—single souls, the childfree by choice…

Or perhaps, whenever one looks back on the past, it is the regret of wasted years, the shame of a life spent in mediocrity, the heartbreak of realizing on one’s deathbed that not a single effort was made toward the most magnificent of all causes—the struggle for human liberation?

No, not that either.

Doesn’t that describe all of us, after all?

The most agonizing thing in the world, surely, is finding yourself in the middle of a crowded street, suddenly desperate for a restroom and unable to find one; or lying in bed, impatiently yearning for peace and relief, only for the police to come knocking just at that very moment…

That was exactly how Alpha Ji felt now.

She had been haggling with Fang Ju, starting with his outrageous demand for ten digital gadgets, bargaining him down to three…

From “buy ten, get one free,” to “buy seven, get one free,” but no further bargaining allowed…

The two sparred with words, equally matched in wit and stubbornness, until—suddenly, Fang Ju went offline.

It was as if, on a full moon night atop the Forbidden City, the hero never showed; or as if the mahjong table was set, tea and snacks and chips ready, but there was always one player missing; or after years of teasing and flirting online, photos exchanged, every kind of intimacy tried, at last you meet in real life only to discover both are unkempt, scruffy men…

Oh, to go offline at a moment like this—may you never again know satisfaction! Alpha Ji was nearly ready to explode on the spot.

Whether her curses had any effect in the real world was unknown, but in the virtual space, Fang Ju’s character was certainly…

This was strategy!

Yes, it must be that boy’s trickery…

He was so square-faced, with a mind as full of holes as a golf ball…

Alpha Ji forced herself to calm down. Suddenly her eyes brightened—wait, the helmet had a front camera.

Just because Fang Ju took off the helmet didn’t mean he escaped the camera.

As long as she could see his face, wouldn’t she be able to read his thoughts?

No sooner thought than done, Alpha Ji activated the camera.

One had to know, these helmets were all Ye Chao’s creations, as vital as fireseed weapons. Remote control was beyond them, but turning a camera on or off was easier than eating or drinking—truly, in this post-apocalyptic world, even eating and drinking wasn’t so easy.

In any case, Alpha Ji realized, to her astonishment… she was at home?

At Ye Chao’s home, the place she saw every day upon waking.

How could this be?

Before she could finish her amazement, she realized she was moving, being jostled.

A suitcase opened, and she saw herself—her perspective—stuffed into a rather small case by a man in a black suit, tie, and sunglasses, dressed like an assassin…

Had the helmet just been sold?

Her first reaction was outrage—how could Fang Ju be so unscrupulous! The deal wasn’t even finalized, and he had already shipped the goods. Among all the middlemen and scalpers, this was a new height of shamelessness.

But after her brief shock, she quickly realized something was wrong.

Because, according to the helmet’s signal, someone was still wearing it—just temporarily unconscious… no, comatose. And based on brainwaves and pulse, it was indeed Fang Ju.

If she looked closely, especially at that fleeting instant when she was stuffed into the suitcase and it snapped shut, she could faintly see Fang Ju’s body still connected to the helmet below.

How could that be?

Fang Ju, while not particularly muscular, was certainly not a bean sprout—how could he possibly fit in such a nondescript suitcase?

At a glance, the case was barely bigger than a briefcase, like the square ones you see in movies for carrying cash.

But that wasn’t the point!

The real question was, why was Fang Ju in Ye Chao’s room, being stuffed into a suitcase and taken away? Was this… a kidnapping?

Wow, this was intense!

With a jolt, Alpha Ji snapped out of the virtual space, gesticulating and reenacting everything with projections as she recounted the story.

“What? Fang Ju got kidnapped from our house? How—” Ye Chao was naturally stunned.

Even though Jiang City had been orderly before the catastrophe, in the city, for someone to be kidnapped in broad daylight, and from his own home, seemed utterly unreal.

Yet Ye Chao didn’t press Alpha Ji for confirmation. He took several seconds to process, then summoned all his strength, stood up unsteadily like a character from “Human: Fall Flat,” and staggered over to Guan Junyuan to relay the story.

For a moment, Guan Junyuan also felt it was unreal.

His first reaction was that Ye Chao was lying, trying to get out of special training.

But glancing at Ye Chao, still sweating and gasping after a ten-kilometer run, he reconsidered. Perhaps he lacked talent, but in terms of attitude, he was as reliable as the sun, as trustworthy as his own face—no need for doubt at all…

“How do you know Fang Ju was kidnapped from your house?” he asked, a rather technical question.

“Teacher Guan (just so you know), my (your) ability has been recalibrated to signal manipulation. Worried about things, I monitored the helmet camera, so I saw everything…”

With a tacit understanding, they spoke as one.

This guy, as square-faced as Fang Ju, could really spin a convincing lie…

[Ye Chao’s favorability -22]

To prove his point, Ye Chao simply projected the video, efficiently and earnestly detailing everything to Guan Junyuan. Winning Guan Junyuan’s support would greatly increase the chances of rescuing Fang Ju!

Guan Junyuan did not disappoint. After watching the footage and understanding the situation, he quickly made several calls—to the police, the school, and the military stationed near Ye Chao’s house.

As the senior director for the third-year division, he was connected to classmates, colleagues, and parents alike. To say his network covered all of Jiang City might be an exaggeration, but it was no stretch to claim that one out of every ten people in the city had some connection to him.

And most had to listen to him.

Who doesn’t have children? Who doesn’t have relatives or friends with children? Who hasn’t needed a teacher’s help at some point? Barely past thirty and already a division head—principal or education commissioner in the future was easily foreseeable. Who would dare cross a teacher like that?

But Guan Junyuan’s network was only a supporting asset. The crucial point was—Fang Ju had been boxed up with the helmet, and Ye Chao could track the helmet’s location in real time, with an error margin of less than a centimeter.

After the apocalypse, humanity truly had no idea of things like BeiDou positioning anymore.