Chapter 510: Answer
This novel is translated and hosted on bcatranslation.com
Zhou Ming returned to his solitary apartment, finding everything exactly as he had left it, frozen in time.
He walked over the familiar, slightly worn floorboards, surrounded by the unaltered setting of his living quarters. His gaze fell on the items that had remained static, their familiarity lending a sense of constancy. The steady hum of his always-on computer fan served as the soundtrack to his return, gradually calming his tumultuous thoughts. A unique emotion, hard to pinpoint, fluttered in the recesses of his heart.
Weaving his way around the sundry items strewn across the floor, Zhou Ming made his way towards the window, its panes shut tight, revealing a sea of undulating white fog outside.
He gazed at the haze for what seemed like an eternity before he extended a hand to push at the window. As anticipated, it remained steadfast, not yielding an inch. The flour and a handful of cans artfully stacked on the windowsill mirrored the window’s stubbornness, acting as silent sentinels of a serene and lonely ambiance.
He stood there, silent and motionless, staring into the dense fog, his mind a blank canvas. After an indeterminate amount of time, he blinked, akin to a statue roused from slumber, and turned his head.
Adjacent to his unkempt bed, the computer monitor on his desk emitted a faint glow. The persistent pop-up of the unconnected network notification occasionally disrupted the tranquility in the lower-right corner of the screen. A notebook, a relic of his earlier note-taking endeavors, lay discarded in the corner of the desk, its pages untouched for a while.
Zhou Ming strolled over and took a seat in front of the table. He fixated on the screen’s blank expanse for a while before dragging the keyboard and mouse from their corner. He opened the browser and typed a question into the search box: “Does the world still exist beyond the fog?” As expected, the browser returned no useful results.
The on-screen cursor flickered a few times before error pages for network interruption and unresponsive remote servers appeared.
Zhou Ming wasn’t surprised. He had already tried to reach the outside world via his computer when the fog first encapsulated his room.
This time, he hadn’t hoped for a different result. He simply wanted to articulate the question, not necessarily seeking answers or attempting to communicate with anyone.
Amid the dull, continuous hum of the fan, Zhou Ming sighed. He tossed the keyboard and mouse back into their corner. Then, picking up the notebook, he flipped it open to an untouched page and began to write:
“To the world beyond the fog, greetings from the solitary dweller of this room. Soon, I will cross the threshold and head towards a city-state on the frontier.
I seek answers, though I suspect I already know them. In that peculiar world beyond the door, countless incredible events unfolded, and my instincts have always proven astute there.
Given this, I’ve ceased to expect responses from the other side of the fog, nor do I expect someone to tap at my window or door. I am uncertain of what has befallen this world, but perhaps it’s not me who has changed but you, the world residing in my tranquil, constrained abode.
Everything here remains unchanged. I have my bed, sofa, coffee table, desk, chairs, wardrobe beside the bed, and a sizable shelf, which is mostly vacant now.
It has been some time since I last cleaned the room, yet dust is surprisingly absent. I know that about half of the dust in human homes originates from human skin shedding and day-to-day activities, but most of the time, I am not here to contribute to it.
Hence, much of this place stays clean… Despite the absence of dust, the room appears somewhat disordered due to my previous hurried visits and subsequent departures without tidying up.
It’s not appealing to see this mess all the time… If things are as I suspect, it’s time to spruce up this room.
Though it may be redundant to say this, and maybe it holds no significance now, I hope you’re faring well in the realm beyond the fog. Farewell… I am setting off to clean this room.”
Zhou Ming exhaled softly, dropped the pen back into its holder, perused his freshly penned words, then shut the notebook and placed it in the corner of the desk.
He rose to his feet and began implementing his plan to clean and organize the room. He started with the disheveled bed, folding the quilt and adjusting the pillows and sheets. Next, he turned to the items on the desk and coffee table, followed by the wardrobe and bookshelf, and finally, the scattered belongings on the sofa and floor.
There wasn’t much dust, so mopping was unnecessary. Zhou Ming only needed to use a piece of paper to sweep away the scant dust on the furniture surfaces before discarding the paper into a waste bin.
Eventually, Zhou Ming found himself standing in front of the window. He examined the objects scattered on the windowsill. After lingering for a while, he gathered the tools he had once optimistically hoped to use to pry the window open—items like hammers and wrenches—and stowed them in a nearby toolbox. He then rearranged the stacked cans and other miscellaneous items, returning them to their places.
He moistened a paper towel and held it against the windowsill with his left hand, remaining frozen in this stance for ten seconds. After a deep breath, he gently wiped the windowsill. The flour, previously used as an indicator to check if anyone had tampered with the window, was effortlessly erased by the damp paper. The room was now immaculate and orderly.
Zhou Ming exhaled, allowing his gaze to sweep across the room, reviewing his work. He then picked up a black plastic bag containing the trash he had collected during the clean-up. The bag wasn’t heavy, its contents mostly waste paper and empty cans, but as he lifted it, a tangible weight seemed to counter his grasp.
Clutching the bag destined for disposal, he approached the door of his apartment and swung it open. The dark, roiling fog greeted him, its undulations concealing the world’s enigmas, simultaneously chaotic and elusive.
Faced with the swirling black fog, Zhou Ming hesitated briefly before hoisting the bag and hurling it into the mist. As the plastic bag slipped from his grip, he was seized by a powerful urge to reclaim it.
It felt as if the discarded papers and empty cans were the last remaining treasures in this world, and he, the sole gambler left, was adamant about preserving every gram of material in his room.
He managed to stifle this instinctive response. His hand opened, and with a sense of detachment, he watched the plastic bag plunge into the foggy abyss beyond the door, disappearing instantly.
He knew that those discarded items wouldn’t reach the other side of the door—only he, assuming his alternate identity as Duncan, had that ability. Everything else would vanish into the spiraling fog upon crossing the threshold.
With the disposal complete, Zhou Ming cleaned his hands and took a step forward, ready to leave this familiar place. On the other side of the door, Alice was waiting, a meal prepared for him to share.
However, as he was about to traverse the threshold, an anomalous sound arrested his attention—the whirring of the computer fan abruptly accelerating.
Zhou Ming froze, retracting his foot, and turned towards the sound. On the computer screen, which had previously shown network disconnection and remote server unresponsiveness notifications, the interface was now pulsating.
Then, the notifications vanished, and the loading progress bar at the bottom of the page shifted from red to green, embarking on a sluggish journey towards completion.
Zhou Ming felt his heart hammering in his chest. The room was almost tangibly still. The next second, he forcefully closed the door to his room and bolted towards his desk.
The loading progress bar continued its steady advance; the dim green light was slow yet resolute, reminiscent of a flame slowly spreading. On what was once a blank page, content began materializing, forming an image.
Zhou Ming fixed his gaze on the emerging image—the moon. It appeared to be a direct perspective shot from space. The image displayed a grey-white moon suspended in the inky expanse of the universe, its surface scarred by craters.
Despite their alien nature, the intricate display of light and dark patterns was familiar. Even without a background in astronomy, Zhou Ming recognized this iconic depiction.
His encounter with the painting in Tyrian’s office was confirmed—the subject was indeed the moon. Every minute detail in the painting could only have been captured by someone who had observed the moon directly, meticulously sketching it from a close vantage point.
Zhou Ming slowly sank into his chair, leaning back, his expression riveted on the image of the moon filling most of the screen. After a prolonged period, his gaze shifted upwards to the line of text he had previously input in the search box:
[Does the world outside the fog still exist?]
He remained silent, frozen in place, before he finally snapped out of his statue-like state. His hand shot out to grab the keyboard next to him, and he began to type new words into the search box:
[Is this the answer? Who responded to this?]
Following his swift typing, Zhou Ming directed a hard stare at the computer screen, but there was no response. No new images emerged, and no further loading bars appeared on the screen. All that was left was the cursor, spinning in place like a silent, lethargic eye.
Aside from the gradually resuming hum of the computer fan, faint and low, the only sounds that permeated the silence were his own rhythmic breathing and heartbeat.
Moments later, the image of the moon on the screen disappeared, victim to a failed load. The interface reverted to a pallid white, devoid of any content save for the single line of text that had returned: network connection interrupted or remote server unresponsive.
Even the moon be suspicious now.
So the “moon” may hide some sort of secret related to his transmigration?
I think its saying the world outside the fog and the world he goes to are the same since both contain the ‘moon’
He should have promised fries to the God of the Network.
I wonder if this is the real Zhou Ming or a copy of him, unaware of being a copy, taken together with the apartment he inhabits.
I was hoping to see how much the scale model collection had grown.
So my theory of Vision001 actually being moon is wrong. Then life beyond the fog… The fog also exist in the new world… Are we on Moon? Possibly on top of a ruined civilization. Me confused