Chapter 13 Suspension Bridge Effect

Chapter 13: The Suspension Bridge Effect

Before assuming the role of Chief Executive, You Jinhui’s academic record in Ding Shu ended at age seventeen—then jumped to his military service at twenty-one. At twenty-four, he joined the Ding Shu administrative department as aide to the former Minister of the Finance Bureau.

He served for three years before being forcibly discharged due to excessive physical strain. Continuing his duties was deemed inadvisable, and he had already met the retirement criteria. As recognition for exceptional performance, he received a commendation banner, and his pension was deposited into his account monthly without fail. Ultimately, the assets in that account were transferred—without compensation—to his sole heir.

In three years, he accomplished what others would take thirty.

Such a person would have thrived just as well in the twenty-first century—a born workhorse. Fortunately, Chen Jiyan did not have to serve as his colleague.

Many so-called children of the elite were exempt from mandatory military service—though exemption did not mean exemption from obligation. So long as they contributed an adequate energy quota, their service was considered fulfilled. This cost-free method—indeed, one that even generated energy—was welcomed by both the military and the government, and remained unregulated.

You Jinhui had simply set the precedent; others followed, hoping to curry favor with impressive achievements. Yet his record remained unbroken. Most couldn’t last half a year before quietly dropping out—pretending nothing had happened—provided their families paid a steep fine.

“Do I need to serve too?”

You Jinhui didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he sized Chen Jiyan up, then offered a blunt assessment: “Your FS resistance is zero. Drop you into Aishi, and you wouldn’t last a day.”

Being belittled was fine—Chen Jiyan was already used to it.

“Your family won’t waste resources just to get you out of this. I’ve secured special military approval for you. Complete your assigned tasks, earn sufficient contribution points, and you’ll pass.”

He wasn’t *that* self-reliant or principled—pulling strings wasn’t off the table.

“Is this… temporary employment?”

Chen Jiyan clicked open the new message in his inbox. Well, not exactly pulling strings. Many students could enter the military reserve through pre-graduation evaluation and receive early acceptance after fulfilling enough tasks.

“In addition to cooperating with research institute inspections during your remaining time, you’ll also rotate across various departments once you’re settled.”

Wasn’t this just another version of a management trainee program? Why hadn’t this soul-crushing system gone extinct—even after the world had been destroyed once?

Why, after the old world collapsed, did he still have to work in the new one? What a hard life.

His thoughts were written all over his face. You Jinhui teased him:

“Do you know how much the equipment sustaining your body—and your daily energy supply—are worth?”

He knew it wasn’t cheap—but without concrete figures, it was hard to grasp the scale.

“It’s equivalent to ten years’ purchasing power for an ordinary citizen.”

“Of course, given your current work capacity, even a hundred more years wouldn’t come close to covering it.”

“That’s fine—I can just wait for my guardian to die and inherit the estate.”

Resigned, Chen Jiyan adopted the attitude of a “dead pig不怕开水烫”—a dead pig fearing no boiling water.

“Ding Shu never makes losing investments.”

He’d forgotten—he stood before an unscrupulous capitalist, the largest creditor in all of Ding Shu.

“It’s your wealth too, after all—you’re my sole heir.”

Like father, like son—empty promises ran in the blood.

“Our relationship is rather complicated right now.”

“You can’t be both my boss *and* my guardian.”

You Jinhui raised an eyebrow—as if asking what difference it made.

“Even though I dislike both roles, with the first, I’m afraid I might not resist the urge to assassinate you.”

“That’s fine too. Then you’d inherit the estate early.” You Jinhui encouraged him.

“You think I lack the ability?”

Underestimated—even though it was true.

“Don’t you find it awkward yourself—me being your subordinate?”

“Useless, yes—but slightly more pleasing to the eye than other useless people.”

Filtered through the guardian’s lens.

“Minister Si took me on a tour of most of Ding Shu today.”

You Jinhui’s eyebrows lifted slightly—signaling him to continue.

“I don’t like it here.”

A high-tech office building—luxurious, yet a prison. Architecture uniformly silver-gray, its geometric aesthetic inscrutable. People moved through it almost indistinguishably—black, white, and gray uniforms, muted colors, exhausted faces.

Clothing had shifted from bodily coverage to pure ornamentation—externally linked to a body-temperature regulation system. Seasons, climate, humidity—none held meaning here. There were no discernible seasonal shifts either: flowers bloomed daily, vegetation stayed perpetually green. Staying here made it easy to lose all sense of time.

Living like the walking dead—working in endless cycles—gradually becoming obsolete, aging, dying. New people poured in constantly, like energy piped into Ding Shu. Once they completed the city’s metabolic cycle, they were expelled—like waste.

You Jinhui neither agreed nor disagreed. No one would like this place.

Perhaps due to harsh external conditions, every institution emphasized collectivism—leaving no room for anyone to catch their breath. Sang Xia’en tried to mold every child into the same mold. Ding Shu’s laborers were treated as interchangeable components—collectively maintaining the operation of this colossal machine.

Individual will was nearly nonexistent beneath collective interests.

In this era of scarce resources, they had clearly abandoned food altogether—relying instead on nutritional supplements or energy bars to sustain normal metabolism and meet bodily needs. This was profoundly alienating to Chen Jiyan, an old-world human for whom food had been central to life.

Clothing, food, shelter, transportation—all drastically simplified. As for entertainment, based on his experiences in Ding Shu and Man Du, it was equally scarce.

He didn’t understand what people here lived for. Even a donkey turning a mill needed a carrot dangled before it. In the past, it was cars, houses, pensions. What was it now?

“Living is for the sake of living.”

“You’re young—it’s normal not to understand.”

Chen Jiyan braced himself for a long lecture—but You Jinhui began, then abruptly stopped.

“That world in your dreams—let’s call it the world you lived in before. I’m curious: how did ordinary people live there?”

“We used calendars. A year of 365 days—cycles repeating, the old yielding to the new.” Speaking of the past, Chen Jiyan opened up.

“Beyond that, in the country I came from, calendars were divided into lunar and solar systems. Some ancient traditional festivals—and key agricultural time markers, known as ‘solar terms’—were all recorded using the lunar calendar.”

“Ordinary people ate, slept, studied, then worked. They had families, friends, partners.”

Chen Jiyan spoke animatedly—but for a long time, there was no response. He turned—and saw the man was already asleep.

“So you’re not a machine after all.”

"Lord Executive?" He slowly approached, the faint light sculpting his features with a statuesque beauty.

"You Jinhui?"

Boldly, and with a touch of mischief, he gently poked the Lord Executive's cheek with his finger.

"You Jinhui!"

His breathing was erratic, his expression unnatural. He needed to go to a hospital—that was Chen Jiyan's first thought. Does Ding Shu have a hospital? There seemed to be research institutes.

Does Man Du have a hospital? He doesn't know, but there seemed to be medical equipment at home.

Collapsing out of nowhere... could it be sudden death?

He remembered what You Jinhui had said once: if he died, a new minister would be appointed today to deliver his eulogy, and in three days, a new Lord Executive would be appointed with his obituary posted throughout Ding Shu.

Back to Man Du first!

Chen Jiyan immediately decided. He activated the system: "Little E, wake up from standby. How do I set the coordinates for this train—"

The familiar, ominous crackle of electric current sounded in his skull again. The useless system had been breached again!

After a burst of static, he heard a voice.

"We meet again, 4759. Or should I say, Chen Jiyan."

The voice on the other end was electronically synthesized, without discernible gender, with an unnervingly grating tone. Chen Jiyan was still debating whether he should inform You Jinhui's colleagues about his sudden collapse. But after he'd been smuggled out last time, he knew the people in Ding Shu couldn't be trusted. He'd even heard rumors of bad blood between You Jinhui and his own mother...

His first priority was to move You Jinhui to a safe place. Without a specific destination, drifting on the train was safer than staying here.

"Your guardian is fine. He'll wake up on his own within eight hours at most, though he might suffer a bit."

"Your system is also fine. No virus, and it hasn't been replaced."

"We sacrificed an outpost for this chance to speak with you, Chen Jiyan. Our last meeting was indeed rude. We would like to formally extend an invitation to visit."

"Invite? How is that different from kidnapping? Or is this just standard operating procedure for Moh Gang?"

"I haven't even said who I'm with yet. Don't be so quick to refuse."

The other party didn't deny it. Who else but Moh Gang had recently dared to challenge Ding Shu? They were even sending a new councilor soon.

"Don't misunderstand. We're not like those politicians with no regard for life. Don't you want to know, Chen Jiyan, the reason you came here? And whether you have any others like you?"

Of course he wanted to know.

But this isn't how you negotiate. At the very least, he absolutely couldn't go to Moh Gang now. Being by You Jinhui's side was safe.

Well, the man was unconscious, so maybe not that safe.

If nothing else, he should wait until the man died to inherit the assets before running away.

"Plot a course for the shortest route from Ding Shu to Man Du. Activate the aerial track."

Since his own system was unusable, there was still You Jinhui's system. They were linked, so he could use the Lord Executive's private permissions when necessary.

"I will come. But not now."

He placated the other side while his hands kept working, inputting the wrong coordinates twice before finally succeeding on the third try.

"Launching in one minute. Please proceed to the designated location to wait."

This location... why did it show as outside the window?

This was seriously strange.

Chen Jiyan, propping up his guardian's heavy, taller frame, stood in the corridor facing the sea of clouds. Directly below was a pale blue halo of light. The train had materialized the same way last time at Sang Xia'en.

"Are you sure we'll be picked up no matter how we jump?"

The atmosphere was eerie, feeling oddly like they were eloping.

If they weren't careful, it could be spun as a double suicide.

He regretted it. He should have waited in the office for You Jinhui to wake up on his own, or simply notified his colleagues for help.

But before he could take a step back, the head resting on his shoulder stirred awake and urged him, "That's right, this is the spot. Jump."

"You're awake? Thank good—"

You Jinhui pulled him forward a step. Before he could process whether he had stepped into empty air, the next second both of them were inside the train.

"You Jinhui, you did that on purpose?"

Was scaring him fun? Chen Jiyan didn't need to check to know his heart rate had definitely skyrocketed past 120.

"Very brave. Well done."

"You Jinhui."

"One piece of bad news," Chen Jiyan said, relatively calm. "I only have five minutes of activity time left today. Can we make it home?"

The blue rectangular bar on the system's main interface, which Chen Jiyan called the stamina bar, was now less than one-fifth full—barely enough for a trip to the break room for a cup of coffee.

If they both became incapacitated, would they be thrown out, or just keep shuttling back and forth between the two places in a loop?

"What's going on? I saw your kid nervously jumping off a building with you?"

"That place we went to today—wipe it out completely."

"Wow, Lord Executive, so impressive. Why are you telling me this?"

"It'll be auctioned off in ten days at the latest. If you want it, prepare in advance."

"My god, You Jinhui, did you suddenly grow a conscience? Don't worry, if I win the bid, I'll definitely treat you—"

"But are you sure that plot doesn't have an owner?" Si Min was skeptical.

"It's CSA's. Figure it out yourself."

"No problem, as long as it's not Moh Gang's," Si Min said cheerfully, confident of success.

"Xiao Chen really is quite the hot commodity."

Si Min put on his gloves and checked his gun. Outside the window, the boundless sea of clouds churned, brewing the next storm.

The train from the direction of the Lord Executive's office vanished into the horizon.

Author's Note:

Sorry, sorry! I was checking my drafts and found I missed a chapter. What was updated last night should have been Chapter 14 [Melted].

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