Chapter 1: The Hapless Homebody

Staring at the glaring red battery warning on his phone screen, Ye Yuan grew increasingly anxious. It had been hard enough to arrange two days off; he’d stocked up on rations, decisively retreated to his cramped fifteen-square-meter rental, and with a flop onto the bed, had immediately fished out his phone and opened the novel he’d been nurturing for half a month. Instantly, a look of blissful contentment spread across his face.

Half an hour later, the battery warning flickered at 20%. Propping himself up with his arm and stretching his iron-stiff waist honed over a decade, Ye Yuan finally managed to reach the charger on the little table. Plugging in the charging cable, he watched the red indicator turn once more to that enchanting green, and a satisfied smile returned to his lips.

But ten minutes later, disaster struck Ye Yuan’s life—a crisis of monumental proportions.

The power had gone out. Without warning, the entire suburban district was plunged into darkness.

The computer was dead.

The power bank was dead.

The electric scooter was dead.

The neighbors were out.

The internet café downstairs, ever unprofessional, hadn’t bothered to start up a generator.

The convenience store across the street was—by some cruel twist of fate—completely sold out of power banks.

No buses in sight.

No Didi drivers willing to take orders.

The subway wasn’t opening until next year.

The moped drivers, too, had all taken the day off. Who could blame them? With the temperature soaring to thirty-eight degrees Celsius, who would be so dedicated?

Worst of all, not a single shared bike could be found.

The nearest supermarket was five kilometers away.

“Am I really going to have to walk two hours into the city?”

Staring up at the sun blazing with relentless fury and back down at his phone, now at a perilous 15% battery, Ye Yuan felt his anxiety mount.

After a long, wavering five seconds, Ye Yuan finally resolved to risk it all.

In a tank top and shorts, his hair a tousled mess, and feet clad in cool flip-flops, Ye Yuan stepped out onto the sticky asphalt and set out on his long quest for power.

Ye Yuan, male, orphan, 175 centimeters tall, twenty-three years old, had graduated from a lackluster university just over a year ago. Unmarried—and, of course, with no such rare creature as a girlfriend.

A year ago, before graduation, he’d dreamed of making something of himself, scoffing at the shut-in, gaming-obsessed roommates in his dorm while embarking on an enthusiastic job search.

To his own surprise, standing at 175 centimeters with boyish good looks, Ye Yuan attracted quite a bit of attention. Within minutes of sending out his résumé, he’d received a dozen interview invitations.

A week later, after much agonizing indecision and under the eager persuasion of a slew of legendary insurance managers, Ye Yuan chose to join the insurance giant, the fabled “Zhong’an Insurance Company”—one of the world’s top 500.

At least now, he thought, he could call himself an employee of a Fortune Global 500 company. Upon graduation, to the envy and admiration of his dormitory companions, Ye Yuan swaggered off with his little bag to start his new life.

Bedding and daily necessities? Who needed those? He was, after all, now a Fortune Global 500 employee. Life, he believed, demanded a certain flair. As the saying goes: “There will be milk! There will be bread!”

With high hopes for the future, Ye Yuan dove headlong into the sea of insurance sales.

And a sea it was. On his first day, stepping into the hundred-square-meter office filled wall to wall with over a hundred attentive colleagues, Ye Yuan truly felt the immensity of it all.

Whenever doubts crept in, the ever-perceptive team leader would immediately notice and, with impassioned oratory, snuff out any budding hesitation.

Of course, Ye Yuan sometimes suspected his persistence was fueled less by inspiration and more by the monthly five-figure commissions his supervisor so often flaunted.

Motivated by visions of wealth, the somewhat introverted Ye Yuan began his daily routine of meeting new clients and consuming motivational “chicken soup for the soul.”

Before he knew it, a year had passed. The dream of “living comfortably in a downtown loft” remained out of reach. His meager monthly salary of a few thousand forced him to bide his time in an old suburban district five kilometers from the city center.

This endless routine of meeting clients, speaking to people as people, and to “ghosts” as ghosts, eventually transformed Ye Yuan from a bright young man into a recluse who barely left home after work.

In other words: a shut-in.

Having embraced a hermit’s life, Ye Yuan naturally sought hobbies. He resurrected his old passion for novels—this time, with renewed fervor.

If granted a three-day holiday, as long as he had sufficient snacks and a fully charged phone, Ye Yuan could easily go three days without stepping outside his cozy fifteen-square-meter nest.

But today, faced with a once-in-a-year blackout and utterly unprepared, Ye Yuan was caught completely off guard.

After struggling fruitlessly for half an hour, he finally set off on his arduous journey in search of electricity.

Two hours later, his footsteps making squelching sounds, Ye Yuan entered the “Happy Family Supermarket,” leaving a trail of dark, muddy footprints and earning a fierce glare from the cleaning lady—but with a face full of relief.

Seeing the anxiety-inducing 3% on his phone screen, Ye Yuan quickened his pace, his flip-flops making an even livelier racket.

Ten minutes later, standing at the supermarket entrance, heart pounding with nervous anticipation, he gently and lovingly plugged the charging cable into his phone.

As the enchanting green indicator lit up, Ye Yuan’s face blossomed with a look of pure happiness.

Savoring the chill breeze from the supermarket’s air conditioning, gazing at the shimmering, distorted scenery outside, and recalling the oven-like warmth of his tiny apartment, Ye Yuan instantly decided to buy a small stool.

For the next several hours, under the disdainful and suggestive glances of the cleaning lady as she bustled back and forth, Ye Yuan embodied the spirit of “Let her be as fierce as she may, the bright moon still shines on the great river; let her rage as she will, I remain steadfast and full of true breath.”

He sat motionless, utterly inseparable from his little folding stool—so determined that even a stomachache was endured with heroic fortitude.

He couldn’t help it—the novel was simply too riveting to put down for even a moment.

Only when the sun finally set and the formidable cleaning lady finished her shift did Ye Yuan rise, feeling utterly rejuvenated. He tossed the little stool in the bin and strode toward the bus stop, his steps buoyant.

Reaching the sidewalk and seeing no obstacles within a hundred meters, Ye Yuan quickly bowed his head, opened the next chapter, and seized the chance to read one more page.

But life is unpredictable, fate ever capricious. Calculating the distance perfectly, he had only walked eighty meters when disaster struck.

Engrossed in the gripping plot, excitement lighting his eyes and a faint smile at his lips, Ye Yuan suddenly felt the world turn white. His head spun, the phone burned hot in his hand, pain radiated through his body, and he struggled to breathe.

Damn! Could it be? Did my phone just explode?

Serves me right for trusting a Four Star phone again in my next life!

Poor me—my few thousand yuan in savings was just about to be paid out, and now it’ll end up with some undeserving scoundrel.

In the fleeting instant before he lost consciousness, these were Ye Yuan’s only thoughts.