Doomsday Wonderland Chapter 1336: A Turn of Events

Chapter 1336: A Turn of Events

“Zheng Aiai!”

At the end of the corridor, the captain’s shout startled Zheng Aiai, who quickly closed the computer page.

The private message dialogue box with the account ‘I’m at odds with Cantaloupe’ immediately retreated to the bottom of the computer screen as if afraid of being discovered by the captain. Zheng Aiai thought the captain hadn’t noticed her secretly messaging on social media during work hours, so she turned her head calmly and asked, “Ah, what’s the matter?”

“And the rest of you, come over, there’s an announcement.”

The captain’s expression was not good. His jet-black hair covered his eyes, and he didn’t even have time to tidy it up. Having lived here for five years, his abilities had long since declined, but when he put on a serious face, Zheng Aiai still felt nervous.

As she and the other four posthuman officers walked into the conference room together, they were not only greeted by the captain. Surprisingly, the branch director and several serious-looking men in suits were also there. Judging by their badges and considerable rank, they were all ordinary people, seemingly from different departments.

Such a lineup was rare.

“Do I not have a phone? Do you not have my contact information? Have I gone to an alien planet?”

The branch director exploded when the posthuman officers entered and stood in place. She shook her head to toss aside a strand of hair that had fallen in front of her face and paced back and forth, her high heels tapping angrily on the floor. “For such a big matter, to send out the paper crane without my consent!”

For a paper crane?

Zheng Aiai was surprised, unable to help but sneak a glance at the captain. The captain didn’t look at anyone, his lips tightly pursed, his profile as hard as a rock.

It was she who received the private message from that stranger, and it was she who persuaded the captain to send the paper crane. Could she have caused trouble for the captain?

“Tell me the contents of the message you sent,” the director calmed down and pointed at Zheng Aiai. “You speak.”

She stuttered for a few seconds.

Chen Liguo was just an ordinary person. When she was transferred to this branch to be the director, many people were worried: this was the first time the department appointed an ordinary person to manage posthumans. Would this cause resentment among the posthumans, or would she be incompetent in her duties? But over the past few years, Chen Liguo had won everyone’s respect with her decisive style and 100% success rate in persuasion, making everyone in the branch from top to bottom admire her, including Zheng Aiai, who secretly admired her as a female senior.

“Well… considering the special situation of that country, the other party may not know anything, so we simply introduced this world and the current situation of posthumans to Lin Sanjiu. Because it was the first time we heard about posthumans from that country, we also asked her about the situation and location and told her we could not leave this world.”

“Is there anything else?”

“No… the length of the paper crane message is limited, and we planned to discuss it further after receiving a reply.”

Zheng Aiai glanced at the director, feeling a bit uncertain. Even the question swirling in her mind just now didn’t seem appropriate to ask anymore. They acted according to their usual principles, ‘initiating contact with posthumans before ordinary people and engaging in persuasion negotiations.’ Wasn’t that right?

“When will the paper crane come back?” Chen Liguo asked coldly.

“It should be this afternoon.”

“Good. As soon as the paper crane returns, hand it over to me immediately, and don’t reply. Never contact people from that country again, whether posthumans or civilians.”

Zheng Aiai didn’t expect the sentence waiting for her to be this. A surge of blood rushed to her head, and she hurriedly asked, “How can we do that? What if they are in danger, or if they cause danger—”

“That’s not our concern,” Chen Liguo interrupted her. “All the small countries know about the existence of posthumans. Do you think a country as big as theirs wouldn’t know? Do you think they wouldn’t have a way to deal with posthumans?”

Deal with?

Zheng Aiai immediately caught onto that word. Although she had only lived in this world for less than a year, it was the first time she had heard Chen Liguo associate ‘deal with’ and ‘posthumans.’

“When I was in school, the captain told me that for so many years, that country had never discussed anything about posthumans, as if posthumans didn’t exist at all.” She also became stubborn because everything had to be reasonable, saying, “Now suddenly there’s an opportunity, how can we not—”

“Do you know what our country’s main industries are?” Chen Liguo stared at her, suddenly asking. Seeing Zheng Aiai not speaking, she sighed.

“You’ve been here briefly, and there’s still much to understand. You’re unclear about our small country’s economic dependency on international trade after economic integration. If it affects international relations, it may affect our country’s economy and livelihoods, which is absolutely unacceptable.”

Zheng Aiai stood there with her mouth half open, not knowing what to say. The captain remained silent.

“I just don’t understand,” she said, turning to reprimand the captain. “You’ve been here for four or five years. How could you be so lax on sensitive issues? Regardless of anything, we shouldn’t be involved. Their country has its own ways of dealing with problems. No matter what we think, we must remember that it’s none of our business. We can’t manage it, nor can we afford the consequences of meddling in other people’s affairs.”

Seeing that none of the posthuman officers seemed inclined to speak, she paused and continued, “Perhaps you might want to help because they’re also posthumans. But you must also remember that taxpayers fund us to ensure local security and not disturb taxpayers’ work and peace. Don’t we already have enough on our plate? Do you all understand? If you understand, then the meeting is adjourned.”

Not even sending paper cranes was allowed. Zheng Aiai realized that the question she couldn’t bring herself to ask was even more hopeless now.

With each step back to her seat, Zheng Aiai’s footsteps echoed heavily. She slumped into her chair with a thud, pacing back and forth a few times and snapping a ballpoint pen in half. She could understand the director’s decision; they, indeed, should prioritize the economic livelihood of their own country—after all, it was the taxpayers of this country who accepted them, allowing them to have a second chance at life.

But precisely because she understood the situation, she felt even more frustrated. She felt the suffocating feeling of being unable to do anything, of being powerless, even though she hadn’t completely lost her powers.

Now… how should she reply to him?

Zheng Aiai opened the chat window and stared at the conversation history, lost in thought.

The other party’s social media account had only been logged into twice, and the profile picture was blank, but the sincerity and urgency in their words undoubtedly belonged to a flesh-and-blood person. He said he was sneaking online, a grave offense by itself, about to be discovered, and he had to escape. But after reading about the doomsday world, Twelve Worlds, and teleportation, he became frightened—very few people would have the courage to venture into the doomsday world, which was normal.