Chapter 1: I am a student, give me

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The tall student in the school uniform had been standing in front of the seafood display tank for ten minutes.

If it weren't for the store being empty right now, the boss would have already become impatient.

But is this kid really part of the Boston lobster consumer demographic?

I hope he doesn't suddenly drop a "I'm a student, give it to me for free."

No way, even if you were just born, that wouldn't work.

"Dead."

"Dead, dead what?"

"Boss, one of the lobsters is dead."

"Impossible, they're all fresh, it was moving just a while ago." Although the boss didn't believe it, he still leaned over to check upon hearing this.

Then, he saw a jin-heavy Boston lobster slowly floating upward until it reached the surface. Seeing this, the boss quickly scooped it out with a net, although this lobster was definitely alive just moments before, it was certainly fresh.

And at this moment, it indeed appeared to be dead.

"Fuck, is the oxygen enhancer broken? Damn it! You piece of shit, how did you die? You fucking bastard."

A Boston lobster cost two hundred eighty-eight, and typically, they could sell it off before closing. Now that it was dead, it was like losing 288 out of thin air. Thinking of this made the boss unable to restrain himself from a torrent of curses.

"Boss, how do you usually deal with dead seafood?"

"Of course we throw it away. We never sell dead shrimp here."

The rules of the seafood market here dictated that dead shrimp like the smaller kinds could be sold off cheaply or turned into frozen shrimp, but for Boston lobsters, king crabs, and the like, you had to dispose of them if they died.

"Boss, I'm a student..."

"Hey you, you, you—"

He stretched out his finger and interrupted the student with a fierce face, almost as if he would say next—"Linbei sells seafood, so what if you're a student?!"

Then, the student pulled out a ten yuan note.

Looking at the money and then at the lobster, the boss sighed, "Even the packaging costs more than ten yuan."

After saying this, he still took out a foam box and ice packs and packed up the Boston lobster that had weighed over a jin.

Forget it, this kid must really want to eat it; otherwise, he wouldn't have been staring at the lobster in the tank the whole time.

Anyway, disposing means throwing it away, so might as well sell it cheap to him.

But he really struck gold this time, since the Boston lobster definitely just died; fast freezing now means no difference in taste from a live one, and he got a big lobster worth 288 yuan for just ten.

"Thank you."

The student reached out his hand and took the plastic bag, then looked at this man with a round belly and a scruffy beard, maybe about thirty-five years old, and after a moment of thought, he said, "Boss, you're really kind. I wish you live to be eighty-seven."

"Why eighty-seven...?"

You little brat sure have a way with words, making a simple blessing sound like a prophecy.

"Because eighty-seven is already considered a long life."

Holding the chilled Boston lobster, Chen Yuan left the seafood store.

Then, he saw more and more red numbers.

A kid holding a candy gourd ran past him, with the number 21224 hanging over his head, which is about fifty-eight years.

A silver-haired, kindly grandmother calling him to slow down had 2934, about eight years.

A loving couple walking towards him, hand in hand, the woman with 24321, the man with 242.

As his gaze was about to meet that of the boy's, Chen Yuan lowered his head and walked past.

He could see other people's death countdowns.

The unit of measurement was days.

This ability appeared at 6:30 on Monday morning when he got up and left home, he unexpectedly discovered some red Arabic numerals floating above his own eyes, as if they were etched right on his retina, quite clearly.

At first, Chen Yuan thought his eyes were playing tricks, but after repeatedly rubbing his eyes and confirming it was real, he realized this was the truth.

It was like those crafty Trisolarans had projected something into his eyes; he couldn't shake it off no matter what.

It wasn't just humans; cats, dogs, reptiles, animals, and even plants, anything that had signs of life, had a string of numbers hanging above it.

Because he noticed that these numbers were inversely proportional to age, he vaguely guessed the meaning behind the numbers.

But what confirmed it for him was an accident that made his blood run cold.

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A teddy bear with 0.00001 dangling above its head was crushed into a teddy meatloaf by a big truck's tire the next second.

One day consists of 86,400 seconds, which means 0.00001 days is equivalent to 0.864 seconds.

The trouble with this ability is that it doesn't convert the time, only showing 'days'.

Fortunately, when Chen Yuan was in elementary school, he was forcefully sent by Mommy to learn abacus, which, although utterly useless for studying and severely damaging to the construction of mathematical thinking and logic, is super convenient for converting days into years.

One could say that a casually fired shot in his youth had, years later, hit the Boston lobster right between the eyes.

Of course, this cool superpower isn't always functional.

Take, for example, this moment.

Standing at the crossroads of Jinling Road in Xia Hai City, the world through Chen Yuan's eyes appeared as if tainted by spiritual pollution, extremely nauseating.

The high-rise buildings, like a forest of steel, were stacked in close succession, seemingly partitioning the busy students of Xia Hai City into this bustling intersection.

According to statistics, over two thousand people pass through here every minute.

In other words, if the wait for the red light exceeds one minute, over two thousand distorted numbers will emerge above people's heads, piling together densely, moving with the crowd like a spectacle of blood-red, wriggling worms.

Breathe, breathe.

Close your eyes and meditate for a moment.

Chen Yuan didn't quite adapt to this ability, especially in public places.

But he believed if this superpower stayed with him, he'd be somewhat calmer than now.

Or, to use a more fitting word—numb.

He discovered this ability yesterday morning, and when he confirmed it was indeed a death countdown, he even tried to help those poor souls dying young.

But just think, if someone suddenly came up to you saying, "Friend, I think you need a check-up, you don't look so good," 80 percent would think you had ulterior motives, either from a health-check organization or hawking products.

The remaining 20 percent would be like—Fuck you, you're the one who's sick.

Although Chen Yuan hadn't encountered the eight people who thought he was trying to sell them something, he had already been irately told off by two.

He should've realized earlier that if those people had regular check-ups, wouldn't they themselves have discovered any terminal illness?

An early or mid-stage terminal illness certainly shows symptoms, and they can endure not getting checked; to your words, a stranger's, they would naturally feel malicious intent.

Never mind, drop the savior complex and respect other people's fates.

Unless it's someone who's only seconds from death, Chen Yuan definitely wouldn't intervene.

But so far, the only one to perish before his own eyes was that poor teddy bear; he'd never seen a lifespan below 0.1.

The red light in front of him turned green.

Merging with the crowd, it was as if he was drowning in a sea of red numbers.

After boarding the subway, Chen Yuan put on his Bluetooth earphones, closed his eyes, and rested in his seat. He used to actively give up his seat for the elderly, disabled, and sick, but now that life and death had lost their significance to him, he saw no need.

What's more heartbreaking is that several times he's seen old men with white hair having longer lifespans than younger people.

The modern corporate livestock embodies 'living tired, dying fast,' with lives that are short and vigorous.

After riding the subway for twelve stations from Jinling Road crossroads station, half an hour later, he arrived at Sunshine community station and got off there.

This area belonged to the Old city area, yet distinct from the renovation zones. Despite the old urban construction, the roads were clean and tidy, public facilities complete—a truly excellent environment for the price, only lacking nightlife.

Chen Yuan lived in an old building, 300 meters from the subway entrance, room 502.

He wasn't from Xia Hai City, originally studying in a county called Hexiang. After the middle school exam, his mom pulled strings through a considerable effort, finding a cousin who worked in the District Education Bureau below Xia Hai, who got him into No. 11 High School, a Provincial Focus School.

But since he got in through connections, he could only be a day student.

And the apartments near No. 11 High School, even single rooms, started at 2000 yuan, so he had to rent a small single room for 700 yuan in Sunshine community.

His parents were working-class in Hexiang, unable to relocate to accompany him, so he successfully led the protagonist's life from a novel—no girlfriend, has an apartment, with both parents busy.

Thank goodness it didn't seem like a Start point novel; otherwise, his parents would have gone along with other family members too.

Now, at seven in the evening, he should hurry home to start cooking. After boiling some Boston lobster, setting the air conditioning to 26 degrees, and pouring a small beer, he then watched an episode of "Legend of the Yuan Dynasty Paintings."

Thinking of this, Chen Yuan quickened his pace up the stairs, reaching the fifth floor in less than half a minute.

Just as he was about to pull out his key to open the door, a high school girl who also seemed to be renting across the hall was inserting her key into the keyhole.

The two people turned their heads and looked at each other blankly.

Above the girl's head, Chen Yuan saw a number that was closest to the teddy meatloaf for the very first time.

[0.05]