41: Chapter 41: Should I Accept the State-Provided "Iron Rice Bowl"?

Qian Li left.

In the living room, only the humming of the refrigerator compressor remained.

Jiang Feng collapsed into the sofa, his body sinking into the leather cushions.

He reached out, picked up the soda can on the coffee table, and then put it back down.

That white, hard-shell invitation card was placed right next to the soda can.

The gold-stamped national emblem reflected the sunlight.

One represented the state, the other represented soda.

Placed together, they didn't quite look right.

Jiang Feng stared at the invitation, not moving for a long time.

He reached out and picked up the letter.

The envelope was thick and carried a scent of printer's ink.

"This is no invitation," Jiang Feng said to the empty air.

"This is a contract for my soul."

He turned the invitation over and over, trying to find some hidden mystery within it.

There was nothing.

Only that national emblem, solemn and dignified, devoid of any emotion.

Jiang Feng held the invitation up to his nose and sniffed.

"Why does it smell like a lifelong meal ticket?"

He muttered, then tossed the invitation back onto the coffee table.

He stood up and paced around the living room.

He walked from the floor-to-ceiling window to the entryway, then back again.

The marble floor was cool, the sensation traveling up from the soles of his feet.

Accept? Or refuse?

To accept meant he would be completely exposed to the state's scrutiny.

Every change in his body, every breath he took, could be recorded and turned into data.

More importantly, that archaeological site didn't sound like a good place at all.

The bamboo slip that could drive a bunch of experts and scholars insane sounded even more sinister than the tumor in his brain.

But, the possibility of a cure.

That temptation was too great.

What the system gave him was an extension of life, a countdown without an end.

Every time he completed a task, he only pushed the finish line back by a few days.

But what the state promised was a chance to completely dismantle the bomb.

Jiang Feng stopped pacing.

He looked at the invitation on the coffee table.

Should he passively wait for the system to release a new task from some unknown corner, or should he actively jump into a known pit?

Which risk was greater?

Jiang Feng sat back on the sofa, picked up the soda, and took a big gulp.

The icy liquid slid down his throat.

He suddenly had a thought.

A conjecture that had been lurking in his mind for a while.

Was the release of system tasks truly completely random?

The release of tasks was always highly correlated with the things he encountered.

What if he actively went to a place where problems were most concentrated?

For example, that archaeological site where the pre-Qin bamboo slip was buried.

A place filled with the unknown, the uncanny, and information pollution.

Would the system... directly release a task related to archaeology for him?

If this conjecture held true, then he would no longer be a puppet passively accepting orders.

At the very least, he could choose his own battlefield.

This thought, more than the cure itself, gave him a sense of control he hadn't felt in a long time.

In the yard, Old Chen finished a full set of martial arts.

He withdrew his stance, exhaled a long breath of white mist, his bare torso showing well-defined muscles, with sweat glistening on his skin.

He walked into the living room and saw Jiang Feng staring blankly at the invitation on the coffee table.

Old Chen didn't speak; he walked to the water dispenser, poured a cup of warm water, and placed it by Jiang Feng's side.

"Old Chen," Jiang Feng said without looking up.

"Let me ask you something."

Old Chen stood straight beside him.

"Speak."

Jiang Feng picked up the cup of warm water but didn't drink.

"What if there was an organization that knew all your secrets, including which sock had a hole in it?"

Jiang Feng's tone was lazy.

"And they insisted on hiring you, with top-tier global salary and benefits, paying your social security and housing fund until your next life."

"They might even help you solve your biggest problem, like... finding you a wife?" Jiang Feng gave an example.

"The only downside is that the job might be a bit dangerous, the kind where you might accidentally end up sacrificing your life for the country."

After finishing, Jiang Feng looked up at Old Chen.

"Would you go?"

Old Chen's expression didn't change at all.

He thought for a few seconds, then replied in his usual steady tone.

"Boss, my life was given to me by the country."

"If needed, I can return it at any time."

Jiang Feng was choked up by his words.

Holding the water cup, he looked at Old Chen's face, which was written with the words "loyalty," and laughed.

"Fine, pretend I didn't ask."

Jiang Feng put down the cup.

"I can't keep up with your level of ideological awareness."

He leaned back into the sofa and shook his head.

He was different from Old Chen.

He was an ordinary person, an ordinary person who just wanted to survive.

He picked up the invitation and flicked it with his finger, making a crisp sound.

He took out his phone, unlocked it, and opened the browser.

In the search box, he typed a few keywords: [Northwest] [Archaeology] [Pre-Qin bamboo slip].

The search results popped up quickly.

They were all official press releases, with content that was largely the same.

"Major Breakthrough in Northwest Archaeology: Suspected High-Level Pre-Qin Tomb Complex Discovered"

"Experts Claim This Discovery May Rewrite Ancient History"

Not a single word mentioned the bamboo slip, let alone any mental abnormalities.

The information had been wiped clean.

This only confirmed that Qian Li spoke the truth.

Jiang Feng closed his phone and tossed it aside.

He made up his mind.

Instead of waiting at home for the system's next lottery, he might as well go to the center of the trouble and see for himself.

He wanted to verify his conjecture.

Even if he guessed wrong, at worst, it would just be a publicly funded trip.

The state would reimburse him, and he'd even get a bodyguard; not a bad deal.

Jiang Feng picked up his phone again.

From his call history, he found an unsaved, unknown number.

It was the one Qian Li had left behind.

He dialed it directly.

The phone rang twice before it was answered.

"Mr. Jiang?" Qian Li's gentle voice came from the other end.

Jiang Feng didn't wait for him to finish speaking and cut in.

He leaned back on the sofa, his feet propped up on the yellow pear wood coffee table, right next to the invitation.

His posture was lazy, but his tone allowed no room for negotiation.

"Consultant Qian, I accept the invitation."

"I have three conditions."

There was silence on the other end of the line.

Jiang Feng didn't rush him, waiting quietly.

He held up one finger.

"First, you must guarantee my personal safety and absolute freedom."

"Where I go, who I see, what I eat, when I sleep, all of that must be up to me. You cannot send people to follow me twenty-four hours a day, nor can you restrict my personal freedom."

He held up a second finger.

"Second, during the research period, I have the final say on everything."

"You can offer suggestions and provide data, but what is done in the end will be decided by me."

"You only need to listen and then execute."

He held up a third finger.

"Third, and this is the most important one."

"I can quit at any time."

"As long as I feel unhappy or bored, I will turn around and leave, and you cannot stop me for any reason."

After finishing, Jiang Feng took his feet off the coffee table.

"Agree to these three terms, and I'll go."

"If not, then forget it."

"Find someone else."

On the other end of the line, there was a long silence.

Only the faint sound of the electrical connection.

Jiang Feng was very patient.

He knew the other party needed this cooperation more than he did.

After about half a minute, Qian Li's voice sounded again.

The voice was still gentle, but the answer was clear.

"Very well."

"Mr. Jiang, we agree to all your conditions."

"On behalf of the research group, I welcome you to join us."

Jiang Feng didn't say anything and hung up the phone directly.

He tossed the phone onto the sofa.

Done.

He had gone from being a subject of study to a consultant leading the research.

Although it was only in name, the nature of it was completely different.

He stood up and stretched.

The comfortable life was over.

He looked out the window; the sunlight was nice, and the lawn was very green.

"Old Chen," he said to the person behind him.

"Pack our bags."

Old Chen's figure moved.

"We're going to the Northwest."

Jiang Feng turned around and looked toward the courtyard gate.

"Let's go see what good things our country has."