Unfortunately, reality remained stubbornly immune to his suffering.
He did end up having to step out of his apartment.
The fridge was empty, so was the pantry (except for a little bit of uncooked rice). H didn't even have any Kraft, which was a crime in itself. A Krime.
He snickered.
Watch out, John mulany. Melanie? How is it spelt? Melany?
After lying on the couch long enough to feel the slow creep of starvation set in, Xu Jianlan accepted the inevitable. He needed food. Grub. Whatever. Which meant leaving his building. Which meant braving the outside world again, a place that had been horrible to him all day. And day before.
He sighed, dug out his wallet, and counted the "many" bills inside.
One. Two. A couple of crumpled survivors, thin and judgmental. Yay! He was rich! At about $2.57. Maybe he could even buy a house.
He checked his online account next. The number stared back at him with all the warmth of a funeral notice.
"…Great."
Uber was out of the question. Absolutely not. Never again. Not only because he nearly got kidnapped, but also because it was also very expensive. Maybe a yellow cab? You know what, better not risk it.
It wasn't like he could just go to the college shop either. Why? Because it was a scam. A genuine legal crime. Twelve dollars for a dozen eggs? In what universe did eggs require a luxury tax? Were they massaged daily? Blessed by monks? Where the chickens made of gold or something?
He walked to the bus stop instead, shoulders slumped, soul heavy.
Thankfully, it wasn't rush hour. The bus hissed to a stop, mostly empty, and he climbed on with a nod to the driver. He chose a seat halfway back and sank into it, gratitude blooming faintly in his chest. At least today wasn't trying to crush him completely. Normally, he had to stand because it was packed like a tin of sardines. Sweaty and smelly sardines.
The bus rumbled forward.
Jianlan pulled out his phone to pass the time.
The screen lit up.
Cracked.
A thin, ugly green line ran straight down it like a surgical scar.
"No," he whispered. Please.
He tapped it. Tilted it. Pressed on the edge like that might intimidate the damage into fixing itself. The green line flickered. Qhatever, at least it still worked. He smacked the phone. It didn't do stuff any faster, but at least the green line was gone for now.
Nice.
Then, in the black reflection of the screen, he saw someone sitting next to him.
His heart jumped.
He looked up.
The seat beside him was empty.
Slowly, cautiously, he angled the phone again. Maybe it was a mistake?
The reflection was still there.
Nope. Not a mistake.
A figure. Close. Too close. Sitting where there definitely hadn't been anyone a second ago.
Jianlan's breath caught in his throat.
The bus continued on its route, oblivious. The city slid past the windows. The green line on his screen pulsed faintly.
When he looked back up again, the old man was there.
Actually there.
No reflections, no glass tricks, no phone-screen betrayal. Just an elderly man sitting neatly in the seat beside him, hands folded on a cane, posture straight in a way that suggested either discipline or rigor mortis. Great! Not a ghost. First nice thing of the day!
The man looked at him expectantly.
Like he was waiting.
For words. Or a conversation.
It was like the feeling of whenever a family reunion comes about, and the older generation keep heckling you about how absolutely dismal your life is, and then they somehow still expect you to want to talk to them.
Unfortunately for the universe, Xu Jianlan had social anxiety.
He froze for exactly half a second, then executed the oldest survival instinct known to mankind.
He looked away. Very suave.
Headphones went on. A practiced motion honed by years of avoiding small talk and salespeople. Mostly just pushy aunties though. He stared out the window with intense interest, as if the passing buildings had just started explaining the secrets of existence.
He could still sorta see the old man.
Not directly. Of course not.
In the window's reflection.
The glass showed the man's face, calm, patient, eyes turned toward Jianlan. Watching. Waiting.
Nope.
Jianlan closed his eyes.
Sweet, sweet darkness. An everlasting blanket of night. Cool and refreshing inside of his brain.
The bus hummed. The engine groaned. Somewhere, someone shifted in their seat.
He heard the old man clear his throat.
Soft. Polite.
Jianlan turned his music up. Ooh, Rolling Stones.
Louder.
Still louder.
Then…
Silence.
The music cut out.
He frowned, tapped the side of his headphones. Nothing. The connection symbol on his phone blinked, then vanished. The cracked screen dimmed, the green line pulsing once, like a heartbeat. Dammit, his headphones died? Seriously? You know what, maybe he could pretend they still worked.
The bus felt colder.
"…You shouldn't ignore elders," the old man said gently.
Jianlan's soul left his body, checked the situation, and considered it not coming back.
Very slowly, very reluctantly, he opened his eyes.
The old man was still there.
He smiled. A big one. The kind you deploy when panic has already booked the venue and is setting up chairs.
Jianlan put his headphones back in his bag.
"I'm sorry," Jianlan said earnestly, hands folded like a guilty schoolboy. "I don't have any money. I'm not a Nigerian prince. But I am very scared. Also, I think I'm too young for you."
The old man blinked.
Once.
Then twice.
Confusion drifted across his face, slow and heavy, like fog rolling in late to a scheduled haunting. He coughed, a delicate little sound, and seemed to recalibrate. System rebooting…. Exe core. He didn't know, he didn't take computer science. Sue him.
"Ahem. Young people these days," he muttered, then brightened, as though switching scripts mid-performance. He smiled. Warm. Grandfatherly. Dangerously reasonable. "Tell me about your life, young man."
Jianlan did not like this question. It was far too much like his actual grandfather, the lead up to more bragging about either his brother, sister, cousin, uncle and so on.
Actually. Was he the black sheep of his family!?
The bus rattled on. The fluorescent lights flickered. Somewhere in the distance, a stop bell dinged like a warning omen.
"Are you alone in life?" the old man asked softly.
Jianlan nodded.
It slipped out before he could stop it. Reflex. Trauma. Middle-child honesty.
The old man's eyes gleamed.
"I have a granddaughter," he said. "She is also alone. Very sick. She dearly craves companionship. Perhaps you would consider—"
Jianlan shot both hands up like he was being held at gunpoint by social expectations.
"Dude," he said quickly, "I think it's illegal to sell people into marriage now?"
The old man paused.
Then, calmly, serenely, he reached into his coat.
And pulled out a stack of crisp green money.
Jianlan paused.
The old man added more.
The stack grew.
It was thick. Obscene. Crisp. The kind of money that smelled like rich rich, and had more where it came from.
Jianlan swallowed.
"Uh," he said weakly, "I mean. I think. I could be a trophy husband—"
His phone buzzed.
A notification.
From his sister.
A single message, glowing like divine intervention. It reminded him of that morning, when he complained about nearly getting arrested. Of when they came to warn him about getting kidnapped.
Wait.
Wait a goddamn second.
This wasn't normal.
This wasn't eccentric-grandpa-core.
This was a pattern.
The hospital, car, roofie air, and now evil old man trying to talk to him in public transport.
Oh.
Oh no.
Was this a full thing?
A coordinated effort?
The first attempt failed so they were escalating?
Marriage trafficking?!
ELDERLY BUS AMBUSH?!
Jianlan shot to his feet.
"I'm so sorry!" he yelped. "I just remembered I left my stove on!"
"You don't own a stove," the old man said mildly.
Jianlan screamed internally.
The bus hadn't even stopped yet when he slammed his hand on the door button.
The driver shouted something.
The doors hissed open halfway.
Jianlan launched himself off the bus, tripped, recovered, and bolted into the street like a man whose student debt had just gained sentience.
Behind him, the bus pulled away.
Inside, the old man watched through the window, money still in hand, his smile finally fading.
His eyes faded to full black, and his skin bleached to bone white, as did the money in his hands. It almost looked like paper money, the kind for burning to ancestors.
He faded, waiting for the next person to come along.
Rain began to fall.
Now that Jianlan was relatively safe, meaning not currently being sold into matrimony or harvested for occult purposes, he leaned against a lamppost and finally dared to look at his phone. You know, this lamp kind of reminded him of that one pathetic square at Brown.
He'd been there for summer camp, all excited because google maps said there was a square for a H.P. Lovecraft memorial, and who doesn't like Cthulhu? Anyways, it turned out the memorial was just a small metal sign taped to the lamppost.
A scam, man.
The screen flickered.
The crack spiderwebbed a little more, the green line wobbling like it was judging him. Dude, he was way too broke to get a new phone.
He smacked it again, and it turned on.
The message from his sister had been a picture.
An image loaded slowly.
It was a protein drink. Dude what the heck, he recognized it. It was the new trend one, that was overpriced as fuck.
Below it, her message:
"Wei. Twink, buy this 4 me. ill pay u back ltr thx"
Jianlan stared.
And stared.
He looked up at the sky, still gray, still storm-heavy, as if lightning itself were lingering just in case he needed another character arc.
"…I nearly got kidnapped,"
…
"again."
His phone, unsympathetic, buzzed again.
Another message.
"also get the vanilla 1 not chocolate. chocolate 1 tastes like ass."
He laughed.
It came out a little hysterical, a little broken, but undeniably alive.
"Sure," he muttered, stuffing the phone back into his pocket. "Why not. After almost being abducted by a haunted taxi and a human trafficking grandpa, buying protein drinks is the logical next step."
He pushed himself upright and started walking toward a store.
The shopping store, for it's part, was pretty nice. It was like a conbini, but also kind of orange themed. Family friendly-ish.
It was also very bright.
It had the kind of fluorescent lighting that made everything feel either very legal, or very hospital-like. He knew from experience, since he'd just been at one that morning.
Jianlan relaxed instantly. There were people everywhere. Too many people. Shoppers drifting between aisles, carts squeaking, a child crying over cereal. Civilization. Witnesses. Safety in numbers. No way was he gonna get kidnapped there.
He slipped into the crowd and immediately adopted his patented I Am Definitely Not Paranoid posture. Head down. Phone out. Thumb scrolling aimlessly while his other hand grabbed items with the precision of someone pretending to be normal.
Eggs.
Rice. Wait, he had rice. He didn't need to buy more.
Instant noodles, the cheap kind that tasted like survival.
Protein drink. Vanilla. Against his will.
You know what? He was gonna splurge. He chucked in some Takis as a self treat.
The store was pretty big, and it sold everything.
And by everything, it apparently also sold sausages.
Jianlan hadn't noticed it at first, but they smelt really good. Like, super mouth-watering good. He bet even gordon Ramsey would want to eat. He followed the smell and saw that the sausages were…
Just… there.
On a shelf.
Unrefrigerated.
Barely supervised.
They sat in not even plastic packaging like a dare. Just. On the shelf. Making the shelf slimy. Jianlan stared at them in horror, imagining the texture, the smell, the audacity.
ewwwww.
Any salivation he'd had evaporated instantly.
"Ew," he whispered, backing away like the sausages might make eye contact.
He grabbed the rest of his things quickly, suddenly aware of his own mortality.
He passed the gardening aisle next. Fertilizer stacked high. Bone meal in cheerful bags with smiling plants on the front. Something about that felt… ominous, but he was too tired to unpack the symbolism.
Straight to the cashier.
The line moved fast. Blessedly fast. He unloaded his items, rehearsing in his head how to pay without embarrassing himself, when a commotion broke out near the exit.
Two guys.
Shifty. Too loud. Hands moving where they shouldn't.
Shoplifters.
Before Jianlan could even think about not getting involved, his body acted on pure instinct. Middle child reflex, obviously. Years of sibling warfare condensed into muscle memory.
He stepped forward, and used his pro skill:
A well-placed kick behind one knee.
Then the other.
They yelped, stumbled, and dropped the merchandise.
Jianlan scooped it up calmly, handed it to the stunned cashier, and said, "These are theirs. Well. They were."
The guys glared at him.
Pure, undiluted malice.
Jianlan stared back, eyes flat, expression exhausted, the look of someone who had already been threatened by fate three times today. Was it two? Technically, the lightning was yesterday. huh.
They broke first.
They bolted.
The cashier blinked, but they seemed mildly upset. "Uh. Thank you?"
"No problem," Jianlan said, already bagging his stuff. "Have a good day."
He left the store like nothing had happened.
Outside, the air was cool. The lights behind him buzzed. The world continued turning.
Jianlan adjusted his grip on the grocery bags and muttered to himself, "I should really stop getting involved in things."
He ate his Takis.
Instead of taking the bus, though, Jianlan just walked. For one, he didn't want to meet any people, weird or not, on the bus, and he also didn't know how to use a bicycle.
It took a pretty long time.
But, it was cardio. That meant better stamina, yeah?
A cat darted out from an alley and he nearly launched his soul into orbit.
He scooted away from the alleys, closer to the street.
After he finally reached home-sweet-home, he spent a while trying to find the keys to the apartment building. Dude. No way.
Did he forget his keys???
sadly staring back at him, in his palm, was his door key. Unfortunately, it did not come as a set deal with the building key. Patting his pockets. Once. Twice. Thrice, like the third time might summon keys through sheer hope. Nothing. He looked down at the grocery bags in his hands, as if they might confess to stealing them for shits and giggles.
Should he… should he text a neighbor and try and have them save him? He debated with himself for a while. It wasn't a true debate, since Jianlan knew the answer.
Nope.
He sighed.
I'm not paid enough for this, he complained to the void.
It laughed in his face.
Toughen up, cupcake.
He sat on the steps, waiting for someone to pass by.
A pigeon few up next to him.
It pecked his shoe.
He tossed it a Taki, before remembering that they were spicy.
"WAiT dOn'T eAt tHAt!"
it ate the Taki.
And then stared at him like he was stupid.
It walked away.
Huh.
So he waited more.
He leaned against the wall. Shifted his weight. Mentally drafted a will in case this became permanent. In case he was stuck on the outside of his apartment like an evil barnacle for the rest of his days. People passed in and out of the building, none of them being him, which felt deeply unfair. He didn't recognize any of them though, so he didn't try to ask them for help.
After a while, salvation arrived in the form of a familiar face.
"Jianlan?"
He turned.
"Ah, Deia!"
Deia, objectively one of the nicest people in the building. The kind of neighbor who smiled with her eyes. The kind who, when he'd first moved in, had baked him an entire box of absurdly fancy pastries as a welcome gift. Stuff with delicate layers. Glossy finishes. Flavors he'd had to google. She'd mentioned, very casually, that she was in culinary school, like that explained why the croissant had changed his life.
She eyed the grocery bags. Then the door. Then his empty hands.
"…Locked out?"
"Yes," Jianlan said with dignity. "But emotionally, I've been locked out all day."
She laughed and fished her keys out. "Come on."
Because she had saved him, and because social obligation demanded it, Jianlan attempted small talk as they walked in.
"So," he said carefully, "your nephew was born recently, right?"
Deia's face lit up instantly.
"Oh my god, yes! Gabby. He's adorable. But my Spotify algorithm is completely ruined now."
"Oh?"
"Yeah! I tried playing lullabies for him," she said, unlocking the door, "but then my brother dared me, so for the past few days I've been playing Taylor Swift for Gabby, heavy death metal Metallica lullabies, and old country music. At work. At home. Everywhere."
She sighed, fond and resigned. "I cannot wait to see my Spotify Wrapped."
"Huh," Jianlan said eloquently.
They reached his floor. She waved, wished him a good night, and disappeared down the hall like a benevolent NPC completing a side quest.
Jianlan carried his groceries inside his apartment, set them down, and paused.
Heavy death metal.
Metallica.
Lullabies.
He stood there for a moment, gears turning slowly in his tired brain.
"…Maybe I'll try listening to some," he muttered.
Because clearly, after today, normal music had lost the right to exist.