Chapter 101: Egg

Frost Street.

Zhao Yi, drenched in fog, pushed open his front door, placed the large flag emblazoned with "Resume Work" against the wall, and tiredly sat down.

"You're back?" Uncle Zhao, wearing an apron, stood by the table, kneading dough and looking at him. He asked with some concern, "How was it? What did the factory say?"

"They won't restart work... They just handed out some pocket money, that's all."

Zhao Yi gulped down some water, casually slapped the coins from his pocket onto the table, and grumbled, "If we can't resume work, what good is this money? How many days will it last? No, I have to go again tomorrow. As long as they don't let us resume work, I'll protest every single day!"

Uncle Zhao watched him for a long time and sighed deeply. "Xiao Yi," he said, "if the factory is truly determined to shut down, what good will your protests do? If you push them too far, you might face serious consequences."

"He'd dare lay a hand on me if I provoke him?" Zhao Yi's eyes widened. "If he dares touch me, I'll fight him to the death!"

"Fight, fight, fight," Uncle Zhao scoffed. "What do you have to fight with?" He snorted, slamming a large piece of dough onto the wooden board with a thud. "Every day, you don't do anything productive, just stick out your neck and glare at people. What's the point of that? When you finally learn to humble yourself, your old man won't have to worry so much! Do you think life is so easy?"

Zhao Yi clearly felt Uncle Zhao's anger. He had wanted to argue, but ultimately pressed his lips together and remained silent.

The room suddenly fell silent.

After a long standoff, Uncle Zhao shook his head again and continued kneading the dough. "If the steel factory isn't going to open, then so be it. At least our family still has this breakfast stall. Even though your old man doesn't make much money, I can still manage to support you, kid."

Hearing this, Zhao Yi's expression changed. His fists clenched tightly under the table...

After a long moment, he stood up without a word and walked towards the inner room.

"Where are you going?" Uncle Zhao asked.

"To sleep!"

"Why are you yelling at your old man!"

Bang—!

As the door slammed shut, Uncle Zhao grumbled "little brat" under his breath and continued kneading the dough with his head down, with noticeably more force.

The fog churned outside, and the sky gradually darkened. Uncle Zhao wiped the sweat from his brow, walked to the table, and lit the kerosene lamp. The orange light illuminated a corner of the breakfast stall, casting his slightly hunched shadow onto the mottled wall.

Outside the door, a figure in a black trench coat stopped in the fog.

"Uncle Zhao, still busy?" Chen Ling asked, opening the door a crack, seeing the breakfast stall's light was still on.

"Ah Ling, quick, come in and sit down." Uncle Zhao's face lit up with a smile when he saw Chen Ling. "The cook at the elementary school down the street ran off, and there's no one to make breakfast, so they placed a big order with me... I've got my hands full."

"No, thank you. I still have to patrol."

"Still patrolling this late?" Uncle Zhao paused. "Did something happen?"

Chen Ling hesitated for a moment. "No... Anyway, it's best not to go out lately. It might not be very safe outside."

"Alright, alright," Uncle Zhao nodded repeatedly.

"Get some rest, Uncle Zhao. Don't stay up too late."

"Will do." The smile on Uncle Zhao's face grew brighter. Then he seemed to recall something and sighed helplessly, "If my kid were half as sensible as you, I'd be content..."

Chen Ling smiled, closed the shop door for him, and, carrying a kerosene lamp, gradually disappeared into the night fog.

The night passed without a word.

The next morning, the bedroom door slowly opened, and Zhao Yi emerged from the room, his eyes red, as if he hadn't slept well.

He opened his mouth, about to say something, but caught sight of a figure in the shop with his peripheral vision and quietly closed his mouth... Sometime during the night, Uncle Zhao had fallen asleep at the table. Gentle snores echoed in the room, and outside the glass door, the fog was thick.

On the table in front of him, hundreds of neatly packed steamed buns were stacked, filling six large bags. They were the fruits of his entire night's labor.

Zhao Yi frowned as he looked at the buns, then at the sleeping figure slumped over the table. His dark hair could no longer conceal the aged silver strands, which looked like a dusting of snow. His brows were furrowed with exhaustion.

"At his age, he insists on pushing himself like this..." Zhao Yi muttered, his eyes filled with complex emotions.

His gaze swept over the somewhat cramped and old breakfast stall, finally resting on the flag leaning in the corner. The complexity in his eyes gradually transformed into determination...

He took a deep breath, softly retrieved a cotton coat from the inner room and draped it over Uncle Zhao. Then he walked to the doorway, hoisted the large flag onto his shoulder, pushed open the shop door with a shove, and strode into the thick fog.

The "Resume Work" flag swayed in the fog, and the young man's defiant face was unyielding.

He walked alone through the silent streets, heading north, until the residential area and its bustling life faded behind him. After a long trek, the massive, sprawling entity shrouded in fog gradually appeared before his eyes.

He stopped in front of the steel factory's gate.

Perhaps it was because of the thick fog, perhaps it was too early, or perhaps the meager pay yesterday had deterred everyone else, but Zhao Yi was the only one at the steel factory's gate now...

He forcefully plunged the flagpole into the muddy ground beneath his feet, gathering all his strength, and shouted towards the factory buildings shrouded in fog:

"Where is everyone?! Come out, all of you!""We want to resume work!!""I told you yesterday! As long as you don't let us resume work, I'll be here causing trouble every day!""If you don't let us resume work, no one will have an easy time! Come out, all of you!""I demand to resume work!!"

Zhao Yi's shouts echoed in the fog, unheeded, unanswered... but he continued to shout relentlessly, as if his throat were made of iron.

Zhao Yi was not foolish, of course. He knew the problem wasn't with the factory itself, but with Aurora City. But what could he do about it? As a kid from Frost Street in the Third District, he had no way of reaching Aurora City. For him, shouting here was the only way to resist his fate.

Zhao Yi's shouts continued without cease. Just then, the unmanned iron gate suddenly let out a screech and slowly swung open...

*Screech—*

Zhao Yi froze.

Perhaps it was the wind, perhaps the gate wasn't locked at all... Zhao Yi didn't think much of it. He gritted his teeth, pulled up the flag and hoisted it onto his shoulder, then darted through the gate, heading straight for the workshop.

"Meng Shi!! Get out here, now!!"

Zhao Yi kicked open the workshop door. He was about to confront Meng Shi face to face, but the next moment, he froze in place.

Inside the workshop, which was several stories high, a massive shadow loomed over several mountain-like machines, resembling a giant centipede... And directly beneath this centipede, within its shadow, strange, egg-like objects could be seen, subtly trembling...