<VESSEL>Extinction Countdown 997: Magnate and Solitary Flame

“This is a critical moment, I’m Liu Baojie! At three this afternoon, a catastrophic accident struck Linqing Winding Road. A taxi collided head-on with a private sedan, plummeting down the cliff…”

“The crash claimed one life and left two injured. The sedan carried two senior directors of Xiehe Medical Group, Lin Changrong and Guo Huaian. Guo Huaian perished on the scene, while Lin Changrong was rushed to emergency care…”

“Word is, a young man from the taxi performed a daring surgery on Director Lin Changrong, saving his leg… Here’s the on-site report…”

Amid the frenzy of police and medics scurrying like stagehands in a chaotic play, Ye Shisan crouched on the ground, an outsider adrift in the tumult.

Truth be told, this was the first time in twenty years he’d seen so many living souls—normal, breathing people. In the mental hospital, there were no living souls, neither normal nor truly alive, but the waiting dead, hollow shells lingering in limbo.

“Clear the way! Move!”

A shout cut through, and the crowd parted. A stretcher whisked past Ye Shisan, bearing a corpse. He didn’t glance up; even after two decades, he could discern the scent of life versus death with chilling ease.

Another stretcher followed, carrying the taxi driver, whimpering like a child at a doctor’s needle. Ye Shisan watched him go, a wry thought flickering: Saved me five yuan.

A third stretcher halted before him. “Hey, kid, you a doctor too?” the man on it asked. “Your technique’s like a seasoned surgeon’s.”

Ye Shisan looked up. The man, Lin Changrong, claimed to be a magnate from Xiehe Medical Group. Heh, if he knew I’m a drifter with a penchant for carving flesh, he’d probably have a fit on the spot.

“Just a drifter,” Ye Shisan said. “Never been a doctor.”

Lin Changrong studied him for a full ten seconds, eyes sharp. “Looking for work? Want to try being a doctor?”

Ye Shisan’s mind flashed to pale corpses on morgue slabs, the tactile thrill of a scalpel slicing flesh. He shook his head swiftly. “No, I’m not cut out for that.”

Lin Changrong chuckled, turning to an aide. “Give him my card. Tell Secretary Hu to look after this kid.” Then, to Ye Shisan: “What’s your name, kid?”

“Ye Shisan.”

Secretary Hu was a strikingly alluring woman.

Her favorite pastime was bending over in a black skirt and stockings to pick up papers in the office, though Lin Changrong never spared her a glance. As the top secretary to Xiehe Medical Group’s senior director, her competence was beyond question. Within fifteen minutes of Lin Changrong’s stretcher hitting the ambulance, she arrived at the scene.

“You’re Ye Shisan?” she asked, towering over him, her tone laced with authority.

“Yeah, that’s me.”

“Get in. Move.”

With a fierce stomp on the gas, her car roared off. The winding road led to Yingtian City, once the capital of the Eastland Empire, now a vibrant, upscale city.

Ye Shisan gazed at the city’s kaleidoscope of lights, marveling at how much the world had changed in twenty years.

Moments later, Hu pulled into a cluster of motels. She rolled down the window, lit a slender cigarette with practiced elegance, and took a drag. “Ye Shisan, I don’t know your story, but since Director Lin gave the word, here’s the deal.”

“Option one: join Xiehe Medical Group. I’ll hook you up with a solid job. Option two: I’ll rent you a motel room, ten grand a month to live on, but you stay in this city. If the boss gets a whim, we need to find you.”

Ye Shisan pondered, then pointed out the window at a shop. “Can you help me take over that place?”

Hu followed his gaze. It was a modest bakery, two stories—living and storage upstairs, baking and selling below. Shabby, business clearly faltering, with a sign: “Urgent Sale/Lease, 3,000/month.”

Her eyes snapped back to Ye Shisan, probing his face.

I’ve seen Director Lin’s whims plenty, but this guy’s a puzzle. Xiehe Medical Group is a global titan—people would kill for a job there. No ambition? Fine. But ten grand a month, free, and you pass? For a rundown bakery?

No. He’s not just picking the bakery. He’s sidestepping my options—single-choice, multiple-choice, the lot. He’s tossed me a new riddle to solve.

This Ye Shisan.

Hu snorted, flicking her half-smoked cigarette into the distance with a snap of her fingers. “Give me one hour. After that, you’re the boss of that bakery.”

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