Chapter 212: Absence from Work
Six levels?
That was… astonishing. Just imagining a city suspended in midair, built layer upon layer until it reached seven levels high, was enough to make one marvel.
And from the sound of it, the higher the level, the higher one’s status. They’d literally divided the social hierarchy by where people lived.
After answering Xu Zhi’s question and seeing she had nothing more to ask, Qi Yanxin headed for the kitchen to make dinner. Well—“kitchen” was generous. It was really just a corner of the living room with a gas cylinder stove.
That alone puzzled Xu Zhi.
This world was full of contradictions. Some things were clearly more advanced than in the Federation—floating cities, prosthetic augmentations, precise weather forecasting, even the equipment in Ye Ran’s father’s old, beat-up car had struck her as futuristic.
Yet the daily life of the slums seemed decades behind. Gas cylinders, old electric appliances, and everything cheap and worn-out carried a faint retro shabbiness.
Was it simply because this place was too poor? Abandoned—left without even basic infrastructure?
Then what about the “luxurious” cities above them? Were they cramped and grimy too? Probably not.
And what about the people who’d built the prison? Were they here as well—somewhere up there? If so, likely in the highest levels. Could they possibly imagine that a survivor from the Federation had crash-landed into the bottom of their world?
The thought flickered and faded. There was no point worrying about what she couldn’t change. For now, she’d better focus on the present.
Because of Xu Zhi’s weak stomach, Qi Yanxin only made porridge—adding some shredded meat and a small amount of vegetables.
Meat wasn’t expensive here. It was, in fact, cheap. Numerous breeding factories supplied the upper levels with high-quality meat, while the lower levels got the leftover cuts—still abundant, but inferior.
Factories of all kinds filled the lower levels, bringing endless noise and pollution. The land that could still grow crops was scarce, and the soil produced little. Fresh vegetables were rare and extremely costly.
When serving, Qi Yanxin ladled nearly all the remaining vegetables into Xu Zhi’s bowl. Xu Zhi didn’t know the prices here. She had no concept that vegetables cost ten times more than meat. She just thought Qi Yanxin wanted her to eat more greens—so she finished it all without a second thought.
After the meal, she rested, swallowed another handful of pills, and finally lay down to sleep.
Fatigue swept over her almost instantly. Even though she hadn’t walked or done anything that day, simply staying awake for four hours was enough to drain her completely.
Before she drifted off, Qi Yanxin replaced the cooling patch on her forehead. It resembled a fever pad—no strong smell, just a soothing coolness that eased the burning heat in her head.
When Xu Zhi next opened her eyes, the room was dark.
Qi Yanxin was sitting in the living area, working on something by candlelight. The flame flickered gently, illuminating her hands as they moved skillfully over small mechanical parts. A plastic bucket beside her was filled with similar scraps.
Xu Zhi’s blurry vision couldn’t make out what exactly they were, but she could tell Qi Yanxin’s hands moved with practiced precision. Because the light was dim, she had to bend her neck uncomfortably close to her work. It looked exhausting.
Xu Zhi hesitated for once and didn’t make a sound. She could guess why the woman was using candles—probably out of money for electricity—and those mechanical parts were likely some kind of side job for a bit of extra income.
Still, she didn’t need to call out. Qi Yanxin, while working, occasionally glanced at the clock on the wall. When it was time, she set down her tools, preparing to change Xu Zhi’s medicine patch—only to find that Xu Zhi was already awake.
“You’re up?”
Her tone was soft, like coaxing a child. “Perfect timing. It’s about dinner now—hang on, I’ll get your medicine ready first.”
Her voice carried that gentle lilt again, but Xu Zhi could hear the fatigue in it—faint, but there.
“Did something happen?” Xu Zhi asked directly. “You sound… off.”
After all, she was currently being taken care of by this woman. If something happened to her, wouldn’t her own “meal ticket” disappear too?
Qi Yanxin froze mid-motion, clearly not expecting Xu Zhi to notice.
“It’s nothing big,” she said after a pause. “I just heard one of my coworkers—someone I’m close with—was marked absent today.”
Her tone said otherwise. The worry was obvious.
“Absent?” Xu Zhi asked softly. “Is that… serious?”
Qi Yanxin nodded, then realized Xu Zhi might not see it, so she added aloud, “Very serious. Missing a single day without cause means losing half a month’s pay. Do it twice, and you’re fired—and they withhold your entire month’s wages.”
“Our team’s job is actually decent—less exhausting than most, and the pay’s not terrible. No one would risk losing it.”
“And once you’re fired for absenteeism, it’s almost impossible to find work at any other factory.”
Factory owners didn’t want unreliable labor.
“That’s rough… Has she ever missed a day before?”
“No,” Qi Yanxin said, placing the medicine on the bedside table and pouring water. “She once came in sick with a high fever, still worked her shift. Unless something happened, she wouldn’t just skip.”
Her tone dimmed again.
Scavengers and laborers alike cherished steady work. They wouldn’t miss a day unless something had gone horribly wrong.
After a brief silence, Qi Yanxin forced a faint smile. “Maybe she just got held up. I’ll check when I go in tomorrow—she might be back.”
That was the optimistic view. Because in truth, illegal laborers rarely missed work. And when one did— They almost never came back.
Those who disappeared usually vanished without a trace in this barren land.
The few who did turn up again—were often found as corpses.
After all, the Lower Levels were far from safe. Outside the central zones, there were no enforcers, no law— only chaos.
