Chapter 86: Cinema (Part 3)
Song Yuqing gently patted the hand clutching her arm.
“Don’t be afraid, Xiaona.”
Though she offered comforting words, Song Yuqing felt a knot of unease tightening in her own stomach. A faint, copper scent hung in the air of the theater—it smelled distinctly of blood.
“The feature is about to begin. Please remain quiet,” a disembodied, mechanical female voice announced, the audio crisp and clear through a surround-sound system.
Ding—
The three-meter-wide screen abruptly flared to life. The sudden burst of light gave Liu Xiaona such a fright that she let out a sharp gasp and shrank back into her seat.
The movie began.
On the screen, a small settlement appeared in the middle of a vast desert. Its layout was entirely unique compared to standard cities; while most urban areas followed a rigid grid pattern, this particular outpost consisted of a single, straight central street flanked by semicircular buildings on either side.
“That’s Base Zero!” Zhang Yimiao shouted excitedly, leaning forward.
Song Yuqing’s hands clenched into tight fists as an inexplicable nervousness washed over her. The theater is called Future Cognition. Is this a glimpse of what’s to come?
The camera angle shifted to a bird’s-eye view, tracking a couple supporting each other as they trudged toward the gates of Base Zero. From such a height, they looked like tiny, insignificant ants crawling across the earth.
As Song Yuqing stared at the moving figures on the screen, a sudden, sharp ache pierced her chest. Why do they look so much like my parents?
Before she could lean closer to inspect their faces, the screen abruptly cut to black.
The house lights flared back on, illuminating the five thoroughly baffled audience members.
“What was that supposed to mean?” Zhang Yimiao asked, turning her head toward Song Yuqing.
“I have no idea,” Song Yuqing admitted honestly.
“How could you not know? Isn’t this your cinema?”
Song Yuqing was left speechless. Mentally, she called out to the system. Master Fu, care to come out and explain this?
Master Fu replied to her thoughts, his tone dripping with smug satisfaction. Certainly not. This functions exactly like a fortune-telling reading. It only grants you a fleeting glimpse into the future. Those are the rules.
Song Yuqing rolled her eyes internally. Turning back to Zhang Yimiao, she offered a dry smile. “Think of it like a fortune-teller’s booth—half of it is reading the signs, and the other half is pure guesswork.”
The automatic doors slowly slid open, and the crowd of espers waiting outside immediately rushed in, buzzing with curiosity.
“What did you guys see?” “Is the movie over already? Or has it not started yet?” “You just saw the future, right? Tell us what’s going to happen!”
Song Yuqing, Liu Xiaona, Gaha, Zhang Yimiao, and the dark-skinned man traded glances, collectively waving their hands and shrugging. They had absolutely no clue what they had just witnessed.
“We want a turn!” “Yeah, there’s another screening, right?”
Several eager customers were already positioning themselves, hovering over the seats and waiting for Song Yuqing’s group to stand so they could claim the spots.
Song Yuqing scanned the small theater. Three of the walls were draped in solid red fabric, devoid of any signs, rules, or advertisements. On the back wall sat a small projection window, which was still emitting a faint trail of the white light used during the screening.
A sudden thought struck her. Back when the coffee shop opened, the instructional guide was barely the size of a palm, tucked away in an obscure corner of the counter. Perhaps the user manual for this cinema was hidden in a similar nook.
Catching Liu Xiaona and Gaha’s eyes, she announced to the room, “Everyone, let’s look for the instructional manual hidden in the theater. Whoever finds it gets the next chance to watch a screening.”
Motivated by the prize, the crowd immediately began a meticulous search. They combed the fabric walls, checked beneath the seats, and peered into every crevice, leaving no stone unturned.
Even Zhang Yimiao dropped to her hands and knees to peer under the chairs. Song Yuqing gently pulled her back up, pulling Liu Xiaona, Gaha, Zhang Yimiao, and the dark-skinned man into a tight huddle.
“Did any of you smell blood while the clip was playing?” she whispered.
The four of them shook their heads in unison.
“Did my nose play tricks on me?” Song Yuqing muttered, genuinely perplexed. She was certain she had caught the metallic scent. “If it wasn’t blood, did you notice any other strange smells?”
Again, the four of them shook their heads.
Song Yuqing frowned, throwing one last lingering look at the blank screen before walking out of the theater. The remaining four stared after her, entirely lost. The movie had lasted ten seconds at most, leaving everyone thoroughly disoriented.
Standing at the top of the newly formed staircase, Song Yuqing crossed her arms and studied the exterior of the cinema. The more she looked at it, the more she felt its opulent, flashy design clashed with the otherwise grounded, functional aesthetic of God’s Supermarket.
She stepped closer, her gaze tracking the small, white bulbs embedded around the entrance frame. The lights were actively flickering, each one pulsing at a slightly different frequency.
Wait a second. What is that?
Song Yuqing rubbed her eyes and leaned in until her face was inches from one of the bulbs. Inside the glass casing, a tiny, etched character was visible.
It read: Zombies.
A hidden code? Excitement flared in her chest. Song Yuqing shifted her attention to the next bulb, the bright white light nearly blinding her as she squinted. Inside this one was the number Ten.
Realizing it was a puzzle, she hurried back to the very first bulb in the sequence. Sure enough, every single light contained a tiny, hidden character. When read in order, they formed a single, straightforward sentence:
Twenty zombies for ten seconds of the future.
Song Yuqing let out a deflated sigh. She had been thrilled at the prospect of piecing together some profound, world-altering secret, only to discover it was a glorified price tag.
Master Fu, you constantly accuse me of being ruthless and overcharging the customers, she complained mentally. But looking at this, you’re the one who’s truly merciless.
How is that unfair? Master Fu retorted nonchalantly. Didn’t I just grant you a free trial of the service?
Song Yuqing chose to let it go. Regardless of the steep price, being able to buy a ten-second glimpse into the future was still an incredible asset. She just couldn’t shake the imagery from her own viewing. Were those two figures really her parents?
At the thought of her mother and father, a heavy sigh escaped her lips. She had spent months actively suppressing the terrifying thought of them turning into mutants, but catching a glimpse of those familiar silhouettes brought all her buried anxieties rushing back to the surface.
If I get the chance, should I make the trip to Base Zero?
But a bitter truth weighed on her mind: hadn’t her parents already succumbed? When she had briefly encountered them a few months ago, they already looked like fully turned zombies, with almost no trace of their original humanity left.
Song Yuqing shook her head to clear her thoughts and called out to the crowded landing. “I found it! The fee is twenty zombies for a ten-second glimpse of the future!”
A collective groan of disappointment rippled through the crowd. What a letdown—out of all the people searching, the manager had to be the one to spot it first.
Song Yuqing smiled. Noticing a few skeptical looks among the espers, she pointed directly at the border lights. “If you don’t believe me, come take a look at the bulbs yourself.”
With that settled, she began making her way back downstairs, her mind shifting to logistics.
God’s Supermarket was expanding rapidly now. With a coffee shop on the second floor and a cinema on the third, they were bound to run into a staffing shortage.
Xiaona can manage the first floor, Gaha can handle the second, and I’ll take charge of the third.
What about Little Meat Bun?
The panda could stay downstairs to assist Xiaona. After all, the central terminal was on the main floor, and Xiaona had her hands full managing the online marketplace alongside walk-in customers.
“Xiaona! Gaha! Back to work!” Song Yuqing called out as she hit the landing. They had a mountain of tasks ahead of them—managing the physical raffle entries and packing remote supply orders.
Whenever Song Yuqing felt overwhelmed by stress or burdened by heavy thoughts, her coping mechanism was to bury herself entirely in manual labor.
Wait.
Song Yuqing paused. Why hasn’t Little Meat Bun returned yet? Could something have happened to him out there?
A wave of regret washed over her. It felt wrong that the little panda hadn’t been here to witness the supermarket’s massive upgrade with his own eyes.
