absurd deduction game.

"Thank you……"

Ten minutes later, a fully-fledged Miss Wu stood before Yu Xing.

She hastily draped a tailored garment over herself, barely covering her exposed body, and her entire demeanor reverted to the legendary melancholy and sorrowful air, indeed to the point that even a glance at her could affect one's mood.

The melancholy Ms. Wu's skin was crooked and twisted. She was worried about straightening the skin later, otherwise her body would look too ugly.

Feeling rather anxious, she thanked Yu Xing, acknowledged that the problem order had been resolved, and then tried to kick Yu Xing out.

Yu Xing: "..."

Tsk, what a betrayal! They risked their lives to complete the order, even saving Ms. Wu's life, and all they get in return is such a perfunctory thank you?
Corporate slaves are really not treated like human beings.

He sighed and waved the order form in his hand: "So, Ms. Wu, you will withdraw your complaint about the order, right?"

“Of course, of course.” Miss Wu lowered her eyebrows and said quietly, “Thank you for your trouble. I didn’t know my faith would be stolen by a piece of fabric. From now on, I…”

Her tears fell like Lin Daiyu's: "I won't rely on God's blessings anymore. Maybe I won't even be able to survive on this street... Waaah... I just wanted to make myself a birthday present..."

Before long, Ms. Wu was crying her eyes out.

Yu Xing had at least received a promise, and he didn't want to expend any energy outside of work, so he hurriedly left in front of the rescued aboriginal.

Scattered on the ground were fragments of the mannequin's body parts. Yu Xingshen stepped over them, his steps uneven, and left the tailor shop.

The surrounding colors became more vibrant, and the passersby and shop owners came to life, making it almost indistinguishable from the real world.

The early morning hours had passed, and the streets were busier. Sunlight filtered through the gaps in the clouds, falling on the road surface of Wenming Street and making the gray cement appear white.

Yu Xing stretched at the entrance of the tailor shop. Her white shirt clung to her skin, and a slight breeze made it feel cool.

He used his pen to lightly draw a horizontal line on the problematic order from the tailor shop as a mark.

"Xiao Wu hasn't opened the door yet?" The owner of the funeral parlor next door poked his head out. He was a bald man in his fifties, wearing a faded vest, holding half a steamed bun in his hand and chewing. "I just heard a lot of noise from her side, crackling and popping."

Yu Xing turned her head and glanced at him.

The boss had a black mole on the bridge of his nose, and his left eyelid drooped as if he had been injured. He habitually tilted his head when he spoke and looked at people with his right eye.

"Ah, yes, maybe they'll open this afternoon," Yu Xing replied casually, flashing a typical office worker's smile. "Ms. Wu's order has been completed, and she's very happy now."

"Oh—you work for a logistics company." The funeral home owner nodded, seemingly uninterested in such matters, and pulled his head back to continue eating his steamed bun.

Yu Xing packed up his things and walked along Wenming Street.

It was still early, and the current task, apart from being mentally taxing, wasn't actually that difficult. He planned to wait a while before going to the claypot rice restaurant. In the meantime, he could take advantage of the improved visibility on Wenming Street to stroll around and learn about the original inhabitants of this street.

Any detail could come into play when the Yin-Yang City instance is officially released.

Flower shops, bakeries, hardware stores, an old-fashioned teahouse that hasn't opened yet, a shoe repair stall set up on the roadside—these shops become clearer and more real with each replay.

He stopped in front of the shoe repair stall.

"Master, how much does it cost to repair shoes?" Yu Xing squatted down, picked up a leather shoe that hadn't been repaired yet and examined it, her tone casual as if she were chatting with someone.

The old shoemaker looked up, squinted at him for a long time, his expression blank, and said in a loud voice, "What did you say?"

"How much!" Yu Xing raised her voice.

The old man was silent for a moment, then turned the shoe sole he was nailing over, tapped it twice with the hammer, and muttered, "A ghost coin."

Ghost money?

Yu Xing stood up, put his leather shoes back in their place, and dusted off his hands. It seemed this was the currency of Civilization Street… no, Yin Yang City. He didn't have a single penny right now; perhaps he could earn this currency by working?

Would robbery work?

Yu Xing glanced at the change box next to the old man's chair. It was all gray and he couldn't see the details of the money.

Before the old man could realize his ulterior motives, Yu Xing withdrew his gaze and walked away as if nothing had happened.

hateful.

He seemed to have no money to buy anything and was starving; there wasn't even a single coin in his briefcase!
Frugal system.

[This is what it's like to be a corporate slave: you work hard all day, can't even afford a meal, forget your money in a daze, and then blame others.]

Yu Xing: "Shut up, it's because you didn't send me any ghost coins."

【…】

Having won a round in a verbal battle with the system, Yu Xing was in a good mood and began to use her social skills to chat wildly with the natives.

He also gleaned some useful insights from these casual conversations.

The shop owners on Wenming Street know each other, but they are not overly close. They will greet each other, chat about everyday things, and spread gossip, but they don't seem to really enter each other's lives. Everyone stays in their own shop, as if they are bound to a fixed position by some invisible force.

Conversely, pedestrians walking freely seem to have more "advanced" privileges, capable of influencing a larger social circle.

Around 10 o'clock, Yu Xing turned back.

The claypot rice restaurants should be open by now.

At the end of Wenming Street, next to Maoyan Logistics Company.

When Yu Xing walked back to that familiar spot, the shutter door of the claypot rice restaurant was already half rolled up, revealing the dimly lit interior.

A rich aroma of cured meat wafted through the air, mingling with the steam from steaming rice, seeping out from the cracks in the door and spreading a layer of warmth across the deserted street.

He stood at the doorway and glanced inside.

The claypot rice shop is small, with five or six square tables covered with red and white checkered plastic tablecloths, the edges of which have been burned with several black holes by cigarette butts.

A handwritten menu was posted on the wall, with crooked calligraphy that read "Claypot Rice with Preserved Meat", "Claypot Rice with Chicken", "Claypot Rice with Spare Ribs", and "Preserved Meat Sold Separately".

There were no customers in the store yet. Below the menu, a man in his fifties was squatting on the ground with several cardboard boxes piled up in front of him.

He was wearing a dark blue work uniform with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing his thick forearms. His hair was already gray, and his face was deeply wrinkled.

He moved slowly, unsealing each box one by one and stacking the contents onto the shelf next to him.

"Boss Wang?" Yu Xing called out.

The man looked up.

His eyes were small, almost invisible when squinted, but his gaze was deep, carrying a weariness and roughness unique to long hours of labor.

He sized up Yu Xing, his gaze lingering for a moment on his white shirt and briefcase, before speaking in a hoarse voice, "Who are you?"

"It's from Maoyan Logistics." Yu Xing waved the order in her hand. "You called earlier and said that something that shouldn't have been mixed in with the cured meat. I'm here to verify the situation."

Lao Wang's expression became somewhat subtle.

He paused for two seconds, then put down the cardboard box he was holding, stood up, wiped his hands with his apron, and said in a low voice, "You do it." (End of Chapter)