Reality Programming Association

Chapter 18: Chapter 8: ”Life of Subtraction

”I was looking for her for a consultation.”

The Uncertainty Robot’s status changed to ’typing...’.

”Ah! My bad, my bad! Wishing you a speedy recovery then!”

This was followed by a sticker of a bowing cat.

Yu Xian’s lips twitched. ”She doesn’t seem very bright,” he thought, mentally slapping a label on the bun-haired corporate slave.

He didn’t reply, simply placing his phone face-down on the desk.

On the podium, Professor Ning finally finished deriving the formula just as the dismissal bell rang.

Stepping out of the academic building, the puddles on the ground were already quite deep. Thankfully, he had worn thick-soled hiking boots today; otherwise, his socks would have been soaked through again.

The dim reflections of the streetlamps in the puddles were shattered into colorful specks of light by the constant foot traffic.

It was nearly ten o’clock by the time he got home. Pushing the door open, the house was pitch black, save for a pale slash of light cast across the floor by the streetlamp outside.

He fumbled in the dark to turn on the lights. A plastic lunchbox sat on the dining table, with a note tucked underneath it.

”Brought some food from the cafeteria. Heat it up before you eat. Don’t wait up for me.”

The handwriting was messy, likely scribbled in a hurry. The bureau was probably making him work overtime again.

Dropping his backpack, Yu Xian carried the lunchbox into the kitchen. The braised pork inside was completely cold and coagulated, with a layer of white grease floating on the surface.

Leaning against the wall, he watched the warm yellow glow through the microwave’s small window and the spinning lunchbox, feeling a bit dazed.

Xia Li didn’t like using microwaves; she said food heated that way lacked the breath of the wok.

”You don’t understand. Operating a microwave really tests your control of the heat. If the temperature is too low, the food stays cold; if it’s too high, it burns. You have to control the variables,” Yu Xian had spoken with utter seriousness.

Xia Li had smiled, her eyes curving into crescents as she looked at his earnest expression.

”I’ve learned something new today, Mr. Scientist.”

DING! The microwave chimed softly. The rotation stopped, and the warm yellow light flickered out.

Using a rag as a potholder, he carried the steaming plastic lunchbox to the table.

”See? Microwave-heated food can have the breath of the wok too,” he thought.

He picked up a piece of braised pork and put it in his mouth. ”Hmm, it’s savory,” he noted inwardly.

”I want to try making it sweet,” he had suddenly suggested that day, watching the meat simmering—BUBBLE BUBBLE—in the pot.

The idea had seemingly originated from an unorthodox ”dark magic” recipe he’d stumbled upon online for making cola braised pork.

Xia Li had glanced at him. After repeatedly confirming that Yu Xian had indeed said ”sweet braised pork,” she crossed her arms and stared at him like she was interrogating a criminal.

”Do you know what you’re saying?”

Guiltily, Yu Xian had presented the cola braised pork tutorial.

”Heresy,” Xia Li had declared with absolute certainty. ”Blasphemy.”

Ten minutes later, however, the sound of changing shoes still echoed from the entryway.

Xia Li had shoved a large bottle of red-labeled cola into Yu Xian’s arms.

”You are not allowed to leave a single piece.”

After a moment’s thought, feeling she hadn’t been fierce enough, she added, ”Just this once!”

Outside the window, the rain went PITTER-PATTER. With his cousin away, he finished the meal quickly.

He cleared the table, placed the lunchbox by the sink, and squeezed out some dish soap.

He wasn’t much of a cook, but when it came to washing dishes, he had always taken the initiative.

After dinner that one time, Yu Xian had gathered the plates into the sink while Xia Li studied him with a look of pure novelty.

”Oh? Has little Yu Xian grown up?”

Feeling a bit awkward at her teasing, he feigned nonchalance.

”It’s just washing dishes. It’s no big deal.”

Xia Li had walked over, picked up a plate Yu Xian had placed on the drying rack, and ran her finger along the rim.

Yu Xian’s heart had skipped a beat, afraid she would find a flaw.

Instead, she looked at the plate in her hand with pleasant surprise, her tone earnest.

”You washed it so cleanly! You even got the edges, and there’s no leftover soap.”

Yu Xian had grown a bit uncomfortable under her praise.

”It’s not as exaggerated as you make it sound.”

Ever since then, he would proactively take over dishwashing duty after every meal.

And every time, Xia Li would praise his clean work with crescent-curved eyes, or hand out sliced fruit as a reward for the dishwasher.

The cold water rinsed away the last bit of suds, and he turned off the faucet.

He washed up, turned off the lights, returned to his room, and slid into bed, wrapping himself tightly in the blankets.

Insomnia. Insomnia again.

Rolling over in the dark, he fumbled for his phone and opened a radio app.

His gaze lingered for two seconds, making a point to check the program title.

He needed to make sure it wasn’t *Life of Subtraction* this time.

The host was a middle-aged man with a hoarse voice who spoke in a flat, monotonous tone, broadcasting which parts of Jiangcheng were experiencing traffic jams, which roads were flooded, and where the traffic lights were broken.

Lulled by this meaningless droning, Yu Xian’s taut nerves finally began to relax, and he drifted off to sleep.

On Wednesday morning, Yu Xian woke up freezing.

He pulled his feet further into the covers and checked his phone. Nine o’clock.

It was dead silent outside his room. Pushing the bedroom door open, he found the living room gloomy as well. It was still raining outside.

The heating wouldn’t be turned on until mid-November, making these few days the coldest time of the year.

The ashtray on the coffee table was empty, and the bed in the master bedroom was untouched. It seemed his cousin hadn’t come home all night.

”I wonder if there’s been another suicide case,” he thought.

For his 10:00 a.m. class, the rain had lightened up a bit compared to last night, but the wind was fiercer, carrying dense, needle-like drizzle that wormed its way down his collar.

The moment he stepped through the university gates, Yu Xian had to admit that Shi Zuozhou hadn’t worked in vain yesterday.

As far as the eye could see, the campus was almost entirely occupied by those gray-and-white posters.

Roll-up banners stood at the cafeteria entrance, electronic screens glowed in the academic building’s lobby, bulletin boards occupied the stairwell landings, and even the wall right above the urinals in the men’s restroom—all were plastered with *Life of Subtraction* posters in various sizes.

”Such a massive spectacle... Truly worthy of a bestselling author favored by the higher-ups,” he thought.

The morning class was rather dull. Yu Xian sat in the back row, spacing out as he watched the curtain of rain outside, while Shi Zuozhou was visibly buzzing with excitement for the entire period.

Right after class ended at noon, a figure with a high ponytail appeared at the classroom door. She was carrying two cups of milk tea in a bag and holding a third in her other hand.

”The first cup of milk tea for the Start of Winter.”

Yang Yiyi shoved a hot cup of milk tea into Shi Zuozhou’s hands, whose face practically screamed ’praise me’. She laughed, ”A reward for the hardworking Plant Shi.”

”Brother Yi! You’ve finally found your conscience!”

Then she looked at Yu Xian and handed him the second cup, grinning. ”A share for everyone present.”

Yu Xian was taken aback. ”I get one too?” he wondered.

”Thank you, Yiyi,” he said.

Holding the cup, a faint warmth seeped into his fingertips.

”Old Yu, since you accepted Brother Yi’s milk tea, doesn’t that mean you owe your bro a favor this afternoon?”

Shi Zuozhou gulped down a large mouthful of milk tea, his tone barely concealing his irrepressible excitement. ”At two o’clock this afternoon, in the grand auditorium. Come help me manage the sign-in desk at the entrance.”

Yu Xian was puzzled. ”Doesn’t your department have plenty of staff? Do you really need me?”

”Don’t even bring it up,” Shi Zuozhou said, going CHOMP CHOMP as he chewed the tapioca pearls in his milk tea. ”We originally had enough people. But who knew Mr. Su Mingyuan would be this popular? It’s crazier than the scramble for elective courses! Ushers, cameramen, livestreamers, reception... we don’t have enough people to go around. Plus, those freshmen lack experience. I’m worried that if things get chaotic, we won’t be able to control the crowd.”

”Alright.”

Yu Xian nodded, and Shi Zuozhou immediately beamed with joy.

”I knew I could count on you in clutch moments!”

They rushed through lunch at the No. 2 Cafeteria. While eating, they could hear nearby students constantly discussing the event with promotional flyers in hand, a true testament to its immense popularity.

After the meal, the group hurried to the grand auditorium, carrying boxes of supplies and souvenirs.

JCU’s grand auditorium was an older building with some history. Rainwater dripped from the eaves in continuous lines, and the red brick walls had been soaked to a rusty hue.

The stage was already decorated in black, white, and gray, resembling an abstract ink wash painting.

”Mic test, mic test, one, two, three.”

Shi Zuozhou stood in the center of the stage, directing several freshman staffers as they adjusted the lighting and sound equipment.

Yu Xian was assigned to the sign-in desk at the side door. He neatly stacked a fresh batch of *Life of Subtraction* display copies, then placed the QR code sign-in stand on top.

From outside came the bustling chatter of the crowd and the sound of closing umbrellas.

By 1:30 p.m., everything was ready.

The doors to the grand auditorium were pushed open. Two massive red plastic buckets were placed at the entrance, quickly piling up with dripping folding umbrellas.

The floor was covered in wet footprints, and the air grew thick with a stuffy, damp odor.

By 1:40 p.m., the line at the auditorium’s entrance had already wrapped around the corner.

It was time to get to work.