Brian Brooks glanced at the phone he had just hung up, then looked again at the empty room.

He didn’t know what kind of life awaited him in 5 hours and 58 minutes; all he knew was that he could only rely on himself.

……

Time is a heavy unit of measurement. The length of life, the breadth of civilization, are all habitually marked by it.

The concept of time exists in everyone’s life.

So whenever a countdown appears in your life, it always brings a sense of urgency.

What is the end point of this countdown?

Could it be danger?

Or perhaps another kind of life.

Brian Brooks couldn’t be sure; he could only prepare for the worst.

So before the countdown ended, he had to get some things ready.

If danger really was coming, then at the very least, he wanted to have some ability to resist it within his means.

Brian Brooks changed into a clean gray jacket, using the shadow of the hood to cover his face.

Taking advantage of the night.

He went out, heading toward the farmers’ market. In Luocheng, the sky in October darkened early.

From the apartment buildings came the sounds of stir-frying, the crackling as vegetables met hot oil, followed by the tempting aroma wafting out.

The smells of eggs, pork, and lamb surged into Brian Brooks’s mind like streams of information, so that one day, if he needed them, he could retrieve a “file” from his memory.

He bought pliers and a shovel at the hardware store, a bag of rice and a bag of flour, as well as table salt at the grain and oil shop.

He also bought a few boxes of antibiotics at the pharmacy, and at the supermarket he got batteries, a flashlight, and compressed biscuits.

Not knowing what he would face, he could only prepare as thoroughly as possible.

These things nearly emptied all of Brian Brooks’s savings.

After Brian Brooks carried everything home, he went straight to the kitchen. He placed all the usable knives from the cutting board in the most handy spots in the house.

The cleaver went under his pillow, the boning knife on the nightstand.

Countdown: 2 hours, 43 minutes, 11 seconds.

He checked all the doors and windows to make sure they were tightly shut, then sat on the edge of the bed, deep in thought: should he look for help?

But who could he turn to?

His mother had a new family, his father was a gambler.

In fact, when Brian Brooks first noticed the countdown on his arm a few hours ago, at just seventeen, his instinct was to seek help from his parents.

But he dismissed the idea.

Brian Brooks took out his phone and tried to photograph the white countdown on his arm, only to find that, although he could see the white markings with his naked eye, they didn’t appear on the phone screen at all.

Such bizarre and absurd things—asking ordinary people for help would probably be useless.

Wait, Brian Brooks seemed to think of something. He got up and started searching in the living room.

Two minutes later, he silently looked at the Guanyin pendant in his hand, placed it carefully in front of him, and bowed nine times.

The last preparation was done.

Chapter 3: A Shattered World

Supernatural phenomena should be handled by supernatural beings.

For Brian Brooks, there was no harm in praying to the Bodhisattva.

He liked to do his preparations in advance, leaving no room for regret.

The time was 9:30 p.m.

Brian Brooks sat on the bed and glanced down at his phone. The only light in the bedroom was this faint glow. On WeChat, there were only a few words from his deskmate David Carter, and no one else had messaged him.

His mother Zhang Wan Fang’s WeChat profile picture sat quietly, which made Brian Brooks feel a trace of disappointment.

Of course, it was only a trace.

He didn’t actually blame his mother.

His father’s gambling had forced the family to sell off several properties, and there was domestic violence and infidelity. Brian Brooks didn’t think his mother was wrong to initiate the divorce at all.

On the eve of the divorce, his grandmother had tried to persuade his mother not to go through with it: “You’re a woman with a teenage son as baggage—how will you ever start a new family? Who would marry you?”

Hearing all this, Brian Brooks chose to live with his father when his parents divorced.

He remembered the look of shock on his parents’ faces at the time.

Now his mother had started a new life, formed a happy new family. Brian Brooks might feel a little lost, but he was still careful not to disturb her.

Countdown: 2:31:12.

Brian Brooks suddenly thought of a question: if these were the last two and a half hours of his life, what should he do?

It was a question both serious and romantic.

Because it asks: what is the thing you most want to do in your life, but haven’t had the chance to, or haven’t dared to do?

Unspoken love.

People you want to see but haven’t.

Places you want to go but haven’t been.

Words you want to say but haven’t said… all fall within the scope of the answer.

This question goes straight to the heart.

Brian Brooks got up and put on his jacket. Incredibly, with so little time left on the countdown, he chose to go out again.

He pushed his battered bicycle out the door, got on, and sped toward his destination.

The autumn night wind was a little chilly, and there were fewer and fewer people on the street.

Brian Brooks stood up and pedaled as fast as he could, his jacket flapping behind him in the night wind.