免费A级毛片无码A∨蜜芽

Posthumans were so stingy!

After receiving posthumans for several consecutive days, Wu Yiliu, who was exhausted every day, was now filled with complaints. Working in the service industry was really tough. He even had the t.i.tle of an NPC, but were there any polite posthumans? He hadn’t met a single one. Someone packed up the entire chocolate wardrobe; another one, who seemed to have some connection with a camel in terms of ability, was very good at storing food. They would sit there, slowly smacking their lips, like a silent, patient herbivore. From morning till dawn the next day, they would eat, and after they left, the candy house was reduced to a brick-and-mortar frame. It had to close for two days and be rebuilt.

They ate hundreds of pounds of food and, upon leaving, weren’t even willing to leave a Special Item as a tip. Wu Yiliu said a chicken rib would do, but they replied there were no chicken ribs either.

Well, considering their style, what chicken ribs would be left after they finished the chicken?

Fortunately, not all posthumans were like this; most people would eat and leave. Otherwise, even Wu Yiliu would start to worry about the sustainability of the fake pocket dimension. However, if all posthumans were so stingy, when would he get a chance?

As time pa.s.sed, Wu Yiliu could feel his irritation growing.

For Professor Qiao, he was like someone who suddenly disappeared one day without any news. She might think he had met with an accident, a heavy blow for the old lady. As for him? He could not contact the outside world, his plan made no progress, and what he was doing every day was essentially helping the Changelings consolidate world stability. What was he doing?

He needed a Special Item donation as soon as possible. Only by personally delivering a donation could he figure out the flow of Special Items; yet for so long, he hadn’t received even one Special Item.

No, that wasn’t entirely true. Wu Yiliu did have something in his possession.

He had that paper crane.

When he thought he could pretend to receive a donation and take the paper crane to the central control room, he suddenly understood why posthumans were reluctant to donate Special Items. What was the difference between this and giving away a child?

Logically, with that shriveled woman meddling, and Milan’s group seemingly unreliable, and without an opportunity to use the paper crane, continuing to keep it would be a waste.

But the idea of personally handing over the first Special Item in his life, giving it to the Changelings, almost brought tears to Wu Yiliu’s eyes.

His right hand was in his pocket, fingers touching the little paper crane, a thousand reluctances in his heart. Since he made up his mind, he had almost worn it out, as if touching it more could keep it. Every time he sent away the posthumans without finding the opportunity, he would sigh in relief.

Should he wait, or not donate at all? What if something happened and he needed Milan’s help?

‘Don’t be tempted.’

Wu Yiliu slapped himself in his imagination.

On the surface, he was still patiently waiting for the next wave of posthumans. Today’s posthumans were coming from other parts of the fake pocket dimension. He could hear laughter from around the bend in the path. “I’ve been craving the mango ice cream man from the candy house for days now,” said a girl, laughing.

It was delicious; Wu Yiliu had eaten two himself. For an NPC, having some food during the s.h.i.+ft wasn’t too much.

Another girl, seemingly of a similar age, laughed. “I’ve got to try it today too.”

These two must have entered the fake pocket dimension from another entrance, voices Wu Yiliu hadn’t heard before. Just listening to them, they seemed like ordinary young girls, spending their weekend shopping and eating, as if their biggest worry in life was a pimple on their face. Even without having evolved, Wu Yiliu felt a sense of detachment as he heard their joyful laughter approaching.

The last time he saw such a scene, it felt like another lifetime. Hearing the voice of a young girl, the middle-aged man took off his gla.s.ses, wiped them with the corner of his s.h.i.+rt, and put them back on, his face was full of bright expectations.

Two figures appeared from around the corner, getting closer and closer. Two bald heads s.h.i.+mmered with sweat in the sun. The two fat-faced, bald-headed individuals, indistinguishable as male or female, with the same patterns all over their bodies, were familiar to the NPC at the door. They smiled at him, their voices clear and bright, saying, “Is the mango ice cream man still here? We can’t wait any longer.”

Strangely, the sight of their bald heads made the middle-aged man’s face quickly turn grey.

“Please follow me,” Wu Yiliu said, maintaining a smile as he pushed the door open for them. He was not disappointed; quite the opposite, his heart was nearly leaping out of his throat. He was even afraid that his trembling voice would give him away.

The two were dressed identically. What especially caught Wu Yiliu’s eye was that they both had a thick white cloth wound around their waists, sewn with many pockets, seemingly for carrying things – the appearance alone was enough.

In the back of the candy house was a small room transformed into Ice and Snow Land, a s.p.a.ce reserved for cold treats. The two pushed the door open, familiarly heading straight for the ice cream statues in the center of the room. Wu Yiliu saw that the middle-aged man didn’t have the energy to serve them, feeling his temples throbbing with excitement – this opportunity was too rare, too perfect. He hurriedly picked up their utensils, following them into the chill.

During this time, he had become familiar with the location of the cameras in the candy house. They were everywhere; unavoidable and unturnoffable. But with the right angle, he could still carry out his plan.

“Do you like our ice cream men?” he asked with a smile, reintroducing the pocket dimension. The bald individuals had heard this speech before and paid no attention, only murmuring their agreement, not even looking at him, and sitting down on the low stools beside the ice cream sculptures.

When he had spoken enough, he could serve them.

“Oh, sorry,” he said softly, feigning carelessness as he rubbed his collar – where the microphone was. The noise from the fabric rubbing against it should have been enough to drown out his low apology. “I dropped my pen.”

The pen he had intentionally placed on the tray. When the timing was right, a gentle push with his thumb caused it to roll off and land in the lap of one of the bald posthumans.

The bald posthuman did not suspect anything and handed it back to him.

“Thank you, thank you,” Wu Yiliu said, setting down the tray and taking the pen, hands tightly gripping it, bowing to them. “I will never forget your kindness!”

The two bald posthumans were stunned, staring at him for a few seconds, then looking at each other.

“What’s with this NPC? Did we trigger some hidden quest?” one of them muttered.

Wu Yiliu achieved his goal. Fearful they would say something like “I just picked up a pen,” he hurriedly thanked them loudly and retreated to the door. As he pushed it open, he slipped the pen into his pocket, and when his hand came back out, he had replaced it with a precious paper crane.

“What’s going on?” the middle-aged man asked, peeking at him.

“I got it,” Wu Yiliu said, knowing there was no turning back. His fingertips were cold, his palms burning. “They donated a Special Item.”

The middle-aged man looked at him sternly, reaching out. “Let me see.”

If he gave it to him, and he wanted to take credit for the paper crane, all would be lost. Wu Yiliu smiled and held the paper crane up to show him, saying, “You can see it like this, right? Just describe it to the control room.”

“Still guarding against me.” The middle-aged man sneered, turning on the intercom behind the bar. “h.e.l.lo,” his tone s.h.i.+fted, “this is Candy House at Entrance B; we’ve received a donation… Yes, it’s a white origami crane, yes, with wings that can unfold, and eyes that look like they can light up…”

Wu Yiliu realized that he forgot to turn the pen tip back, accidentally drawing a line on the paper crane.

“Another NPC will bring it over now,” the middle-aged man said, checking his watch. “Okay, he can leave right away.”

After ending the communication, he simply said, “You have fifteen minutes to get to the central control room and bring me a map. I’ll mark the location for you.”

The central control room!

Wu Yiliu stared at the black circle in the center of the map, his stomach twisting with nervousness. He had finally opened the first step for himself, but the unknowns that lay ahead were the real challenges. He gripped the map, saying nothing as he rushed out the door.

They certainly wouldn’t let an NPC carrying a Special Item wander around freely—not only was the time limited, but the control room was probably keeping a close eye on his location as well.

Under normal circ.u.mstances, it would take at least half an hour to walk from Entrance B to the central control room; but NPCs, unlike posthumans, don’t have to walk in circles. If he ran through the employee pa.s.sage used during s.h.i.+ft changes, he could get there in about ten minutes.

Wu Yiliu was fast for a human; when he arrived, panting, he estimated that he still had six or seven minutes left. The central control room was a small, nondescript flat building with gray walls, un.o.btrusive—so as not to attract attention, there was not even a guard nearby.

Wu Yiliu carefully examined the front and back of the flat building, waiting until time was almost up before going to the front door and ringing the doorbell.