Chapter 26
It took Jiang Jitang almost three hours to finish assembling the wooden cabin. By the end, he was gasping for breath and drenched in sweat, but the result was satisfying.
He wiped down the cabin, replaced the worst damaged planks, and overall it looked much better than when it sat in the recycling station. Three different colors of wood appeared along one wall, forming a mismatched but intentionally artistic style.
He circled the finished cabin once, then went inside.
The interior was roughly the size of two king-size beds put together. When empty, it felt okay, but once the bunk bed was placed, space became tight.
He jumped lightly on the floor—it was solid. The steel-frame structure was extremely sturdy.
The large wardrobe he salvaged earlier had been taken apart and rebuilt into an open closet, fitting perfectly against a wall. He hammered a few nails on one side so they could hang items.
The leftover 0.45-meter-wide door was secured to the opposite wall with a tripod, becoming a desk. Between the bed and the desk, he left a half-meter walkway.
And just like that, less than half the cabin’s interior space remained.
“I still want to section off a tiny bathroom…” Jiang Jitang sat on the lower bunk, with no place to stretch his legs except cross-legged.
He had built this bed specifically for a family of four. Both the upper and lower bunks were 1.4 meters wide. The lower bed was raised 20 cm off the ground for moisture prevention, and even if children rolled off the top bunk, it wouldn’t be dangerous.
He still wasn’t satisfied. Outside the cabin, beneath the one-meter overhang of the roof, he used the old planks to build a tiny enclosed compartment, then made a door from the remaining wood.
The space inside was only about one square meter—just enough for a portable toilet. That way, when someone needed to get up at night, they could take care of things right outside the home—much safer.
With this, the mini-cabin was more than enough to fulfill the order, but Jiang Jitang had additional plans. He took a shower, ate lunch, and then used the flour and ingredients he bought yesterday to make bread dough. Mixing, fermenting, and baking took over an hour.
When the sun was no longer scorching, he went downstairs to work on the rainwater collection system.
He sawed long round plastic pipes open and attached them beneath the eaves to catch rainwater.
The water would run through those pipes into a slightly warped water tank. Below it, he built a simple filtration device using 3-liter mineral water jugs. The bottom outlet was connected to a faucet—an ultra-simple rainwater collection and filtration system, complete.
“It’s done. The rest, they’ll have to adjust themselves.” He had a similar system on his own balcony for watering plants—more complex, with automatic irrigation.
Next were the solar-powered lamp and electric fan. He had made these before, so assembly was quick. He tested both—they worked fine.
The cabin was finished. Only the cake remained.
With experience working part-time at a bakery, Jiang Jitang was full of confidence. He took out the cooled sponge cakes, sliced them open, filled them with whipped cream and fruit, spread more cream evenly over the outside. It looked surprisingly decent.
He made the simplest fruit cake—cream rosettes lining the top edge, colorful candies scattered over them, strawberries and cherries in the center, lightly dusted with powdered sugar.
Hm. It was a little crooked.
Didn’t matter—as long as it was delicious!
The cake was ready. He also had disposable plates, plastic knives, and colorful candles from yesterday. He packed everything neatly with the dried wooden blocks and the acrylic markers he bought.
“All done. Time to deliver.”
After packing up, he appeared in a noisy environment. When he opened his eyes, he saw an orange sunset against a yellow-gray sky. The sky was quiet—no birds, no planes.
Below the silent sky were distant mountains and the uneven sprawl of nearby shanties.
He immediately spotted the wish-giver marked [Scavenger Family]. They were huddled in a tiny tent made from two wooden boards.
“Please complete the transaction within ninety minutes,” the system bubble reminded him.
Ignoring the surprised stares around him, Jiang Jitang walked toward the family.
Up close, he noticed something: the shacks weren’t randomly built. Someone had drawn rectangular plots on the ground with special paint. Each family had about thirty square meters of space, with pathways between them.
People bordered their plots with stones or tree trunks, creating mini yards. But this wish-family had no yard—only a triangular tent made of stones, dirt, and two planks, barely enough for them to lie down.
Were they newly relocated here?
Jiang Jitang’s sharp eyes noticed another detail: the man working outside the tent had a prosthetic leg—below the thigh, it was entirely carved from wood. Inside the tent lay a young child, maybe two or three years old.
“Hello. Did you post a task offering 180 credit points for a tent-house?”
The man looked at Jiang Jitang—who looked completely out of place in this environment—and used a cane to stand. “You’re the one who accepted the task?”
To be honest, Jiang Jitang didn’t look like a courier. He looked like someone others ran errands for.
“Yes.” Jiang Jitang ignored the watching eyes and the murmurs guessing his identity. “Where do you want the cabin placed?”
“Th-there.” The man pointed blankly at the center of the plot—but it was full of junk.
“Please clear it. I need at least eight square meters.”
He only had ninety minutes—no time for lengthy explanations. “Please clear it,” he repeated.
“What can I do?” the man asked quietly. Since losing his leg, his spirit had broken.
“Take care of the child. Call two people to help. I’m in a hurry.”
The little girl inside had woken up and crawled out of the tent, rubbing her eyes.
The man brought two helpers—a sturdy middle-aged woman and a half-grown teenage boy, both capable.
Others wanted to help too, but more people would only get in the way.
Jiang Jitang had expected people in poverty to be too overwhelmed to show kindness. Instead, he found that everyone reached out when someone was struggling.
After all, weak creatures that don’t learn to stay warm together don’t survive harsh winters.
With everyone’s help, the area was quickly cleared. They kept all the junk—too precious to throw away.
“What’s going on?”
“Dunno. That fancy young man said he’s bringing a new house.”
People rarely saw new things here. They gathered, making the air feel thick.
“Administrator’s here!”
The crowd parted for a thin woman with sharp eyes. One look at Jiang Jitang, and she knew he was not ordinary—his fair skin, gentle temperament, everything about him said he was raised in comfort.
So she greeted him politely.
“Do you need any help?”
“I’ll leave once I set the house down,” Jiang Jitang said.
The administrator didn’t quite understand “set the house down.”
But a second later, her eyes widened—because the handsome young man waved his hand, and a wooden cabin appeared out of thin air.
Magic? Illusion?
“Whoa—!”
The surrounding crowd collectively gasped. The man holding his child gaped, stunned speechless.
“What’s that—? What is it?”
“Daddy, is it an elf’s treehouse?” the little girl asked in her milky voice—cutest of all the reactions.
This world clearly hadn’t invented space-storage technology, but Jiang Jitang didn’t care—he wasn’t from this world anyway.
As for whether the wish family would get in trouble… it wasn’t his concern. This was just a transaction. If someone wanted to harass them because of it, the problem lay in the system, not in him.
Jiang Jitang checked his watch and smiled professionally. “This is the tent-house you ordered. The outer layer is carbonized wood, the inner layer has fire-retardant insulation. Here’s the front door. This small area under the eaves can serve as a bathroom.”
He unlocked the aluminum door and pushed it open. Several curious heads peeked inside.
The interior wasn’t large, but enough for a bunk bed for a family of four, a wide wardrobe, and a long table for meals and writing. It had all the basics.
“I think you’ll find these useful, too,” he said, pointing at the solar lamp and electric fan.
“What are they?”
“A lamp, maybe? And that one looks like a fan…”
This place had no water or electricity. Many people didn’t even recognize appliances—but lamps were familiar. They started murmuring:
“Where will he pull the wires from? We don’t—”
Before the man finished, Jiang Jitang pressed the switch. The lamp lit up.
“No wires needed. It’s solar-powered. Leave it in the sun during the day, and it’ll work after dark.”
The bright white light illuminated the child’s pure eyes. She clutched her father’s pants, trying to understand. “Daddy, little sun. Borrowed from the big sun.”
“Daddy sees it… it’s a little sun.” The man choked up.
In the slums, a single lamp could drive away fear and darkness—and bring safety.
“A full day of sunlight should power it for three or four hours. And this fan—well, it won’t be strong, but it’ll help.”
Jiang Jitang’s gaze fell on the little girl. Other people’s kids were always so adorable.
“Little one, happy birthday.” He placed the cake and the prepared gifts onto the table.
The fruity, creamy cake captured everyone’s attention. But the child’s eyes were drawn to the matte-painted wooden blocks and the big box of markers.
“These are birthday gifts. Look—use the markers to draw on the blocks, turn them into whatever you want, build houses, play games.”
He bent down and gently ruffled her thin, yellowish hair. “Uncle’s leaving. See you again if fate allows.”
“Oh, right—” he paused mid-step.
“Don’t forget to leave a five-star review.”
Before anyone could stop him, he stepped out of the plot.
A gust of wind mixed with yellow sand swept across the slums—rattling windbreak boards, rolling gravel everywhere, forcing people to shield their eyes.
When the wind died down, the magical young man was gone.
“Daddy… Uncle left his things here. How do we give them back?” the little girl whispered inside the quiet cabin.
“Sweetheart, they’re your birthday gifts. He left them for you.”
“For me? But I didn’t say thank you yet…”
The father’s heart melted into soft sugar.
“Uncle had something urgent. You can keep your thank-you in your heart for now. Look—he even gave you something delicious. Do you like it?”
The girl had never eaten cake—she didn’t even recognize the strawberries on top—but the sweet fragrance drifted into her nose. “Smells good…”
“Of course it does. A little cake like this—no idea how many credits it’s worth.” The administrator, who had seen the world, knew the gift’s true value.
She forced herself not to think about it—not to remember the finger-sized slice of cake she once received at an official’s child’s birthday. Sweet, soft, fragrant…
Even she found it precious?
The man suddenly realized this was an opportunity—a hint of hope. He looked at his daughter with guilt, then smiled and patted her shoulder.
“Today is your birthday. Everyone, stay and celebrate with her. How about it?”
The girl’s eyes lit up instantly.
“Really?”
And so, a child in the task world had the most unforgettable birthday of her life—
—
While Jiang Jitang, freshly showered and smelling faintly of lemon, headed out for a stroll.
Today, too, he was his best self. Time to reward himself with a nice meal!
With no tasks and no worries, wearing shorts, a white T-shirt, and foam clogs, he had cold noodles for dinner, tried a new milk tea, played two rounds of chess with an old gentleman at the park, warmed up with an auntie’s exercise routine, and even bought a few sunflowers on the way back.
The evening breeze carried the sound of a string instrument, brushing past his ears.
He froze—leisure replaced by surprise.
The melody was like a thin thread, tugging at memories. Without realizing it, he turned toward the street corner.
A crowd stood before a dim café. Elderly couples walking children had gathered, forming a sea of people. But even they couldn’t block the man standing under the streetlamp—bright as daylight.
A towering figure, almost two meters tall, wearing black clothes and a black cap. In his hands was a seven-string instrument unlike any Jiang Jitang had seen. Light poured from above, revealing glimpses of an impossibly handsome face.
As if sensing something, the man lifted his head and looked over.
Jiang Jitang stood across the street, not avoiding his gaze.
Their eyes met across the sea of onlookers as the music slowly faded.
“Why’d he stop? Forgot the notes?”
“That foreign guy only knows this one song. Yesterday he played it all day too.”
The crowd murmured.
The striking performer pushed through the people, long legs closing the distance in moments. Jiang Jitang stood still, holding his sunflowers.
He had imagined countless versions of how they might meet again— but when it truly happened, he realized:
There was nothing he needed to think. Nothing he would think.
Hearing an old tune in a busy street— you know the person playing it is someone from your past.
Long time no see, old enemy.
