Pollutant Disguise Plan (POLLUTANT)
The containment facility staff left, but before departing, Dr. Cheng repeatedly emphasized that they should contact them immediately if anything went wrong or simply flee—under no circumstances should they risk injury.
Old Song also nodded vigorously, promising he wouldn’t let any harm come to the two young men.
Thus, Shen Ji and Zhang Qingli sat in the shop, waiting for the mysterious singing.
According to Old Song, the singing usually started late at night. At first, the sound was faint, but once noticed, it would grow louder and louder until it felt like it was singing directly inside one’s head.
"That does sound like a Pollutant," Zhang Qingli said to Old Song. "Mr. Song, maybe you should go back inside?"
"No, no, I’d rather stay here with you," Old Song quickly refused.
Though he wore a smile, his eyes were frozen with fear. It seemed he didn’t want to be alone—perhaps the sound became more pronounced in solitude, worsening its psychological effects.
Shen Ji glanced at Old Song.
The fluorescent light reflected off his glasses, obscuring his gaze. After observing Old Song for a moment, he lowered his head and began scrolling through his phone.
[What are you looking for?]
‘That post,’ Shen Ji opened the anonymous forum and scrolled through his browsing history. ‘Remember? On the day of the lockdown, we saw a post with a reply about someone hearing their upstairs neighbor singing the same song over and over at midnight.’
[You actually remember something from so long ago? But yes, that did happen.]
Ever since inexplicably joining the containment facility and being assigned a dormitory, Shen Ji’s life had become a cycle of 5 AM to 10 PM shifts as routine as drinking water. He hadn’t opened this forum in ages.
Now, the forum was flooded with posts about the Undertaker incident in the East District, along with countless missing person reports and cries for help. Even surveillance footage of the Undertaker was circulating.
Shen Ji scrolled for a while before finding the original post.
[Here it is.] The system repeated the text, [I've been feeling something's off with the apartment above mine these past few days. Who keeps singing the same line over and over in the middle of the night? It's really strange.]
Shen Ji clicked on the user's profile and saw that they hadn’t been online for three days. Their last reply was also from three days ago, in the same thread.
Floor 27 replying to Floor 4: Any updates? Did the police catch any Pollutant after you reported it?
Floor 29 replying to Floor 27: The security team checked. They told me only two elderly people live upstairs—no young woman at all. But I definitely heard a woman singing. The team took it seriously and searched the entire complex, but found nothing wrong.
Floor 30: Nothing wrong? Is the security team incompetent, or is there really no issue?
Floor 33: Heard it again today. The sound… it almost seems like it’s coming from inside my own apartment…
Floor 34: Holy shit, call the police!
Floor 35: She sounds like she’s in the bathroom. I’ll go check.
After this, the user never replied again. The thread had many calls to locate them, but soon the Undertaker incident erupted, burying the post deep in the archives.
[I found information on this person.]
[Two days ago, the security team entered his residence after neighbors reported a ‘strong rotting smell.’ They found him dead in the bathroom with his body completely decomposed. Tissue samples confirmed his identity. He had previously reported late-night singing, but the contamination levels in his apartment were low. It’s unclear whether his death is connected to the ‘nighttime singing.’]
[The deceased was a community doctor—not a contamination specialist, just a general practitioner. Before his death, he had no contact with containment facilities.]
[The Anti-Contamination Control Center labeled it as a ‘suspected pollutant sighting’ and evacuated the residents, but no similar cases have been reported since.]
Shen Ji turned off his phone and glanced at Zhang Qingli and Old Song beside him. Zhang Qingli wasn’t much of a talker as his innate ability made him habitually curt, so he had learned to suppress his urge to speak. Old Song, however, kept rambling nonstop.
He talked about his past, his present, and the future he hoped for.
But anyone could tell Old Song was just babbling to mask his terror. He was utterly terrified now.
The strange odor clinging to Old Song grew increasingly pungent, thickening into a nauseating stench.
His contamination levels were rising. He should be isolated in a containment facility.
"Teacher Song, stop talking for a moment. Something’s not right." Zhang Qingli suddenly cut him off, frowning slightly as he looked outside the shop. "Do you hear that?"
Old Song immediately fell silent, his body trembling uncontrollably.
A faint, intermittent singing voice drifted in—a woman’s voice was humming a haunting melody with a hoarse, faltering tone. It stumbled through the tune before stopping, then started again, repeating the same broken refrain over and over.
"See? I—I wasn’t lying!" Old Song was petrified. "There really is someone singing at night! When I followed the sound, it was coming from the sewers!"
Zhang Qingli and Shen Ji exchanged glances. Then Zhang Qingli pointed outside, "Want to check it out?"
"Mm." Shen Ji adjusted his glasses with one hand. "Let's go."
The two stood up and walked out. Zhang Qingli turned on his flashlight while Shen Ji activated his camera, recording both their path and the eerie singing.
Following the melody, they eventually reached a sewer grate. When Zhang Qingli shone his light down, the singing abruptly stopped—but there was nothing there.
Suddenly, Shen Ji clutched his wrist so violently he nearly dropped his phone into the sewer.
Startled, Zhang Qingli turned to him, "What's wrong? Did you see something?"
"Nothing, just a mosquito." Shen lied without blinking. "Didn't expect them in this cold weather."
Zhang Qingli studied him suspiciously before returning his attention to the sewer.
Once certain he wasn't being watched, Shen Ji cautiously examined his wrist. Fortunately, the darkness concealed the clusters of mushroom-like growths sprouting from his skin with their caps twitching as if trying to leap into the sewer below.
[The contamination levels must be significant. Their predatory instincts are making them act independently—want to surprise you?]
'Disgusting.' Shen recoiled. 'Absolutely unacceptable!'
"Nothing down there." Still concerned about contamination, Zhang Qingli pulled out a detector from his pocket. "No abnormal readings either."
Before Shen Ji could react, the fungal tendrils launched themselves into the sewer.
Shen: "..."
His glasses nearly slid off his face in frustration.
"Let's head back." Zhang Qingli stood up. "I definitely sensed something. With this footage, we should report it again. The guards are overwhelmed, but this is clearly abnormal."
Shen Ji rose reluctantly as he nodded with visible hesitation. "Agreed."
[Don't be so repulsed. While sewers are filthy, mushrooms don't consume trash—only Pollutans.]
'My contamination came from these fungal scavengers.' Shen Ji lamented. 'If this gets published, I'll be ridiculed by the entire academic community.'
[...]
Just when he seemed serious, the man would veer into absurdity.
His thought process was truly incomprehensible.
They'd only walked halfway back when piercing screams shattered the night.
"Oh no—Mr. Song!" Zhang Qingli immediately sprinted toward the source.
[The contamination must have overwhelmed him.] Shen Ji followed while analyzing, [Song Yuanchang's prior exposure gave him high resistance—like developing antibodies. But that makes secondary contamination exponentially worse.]
Returning to the shop, they found Old Song writhing on the floor with his hands clamped over his ears.
"Stop singing! Please stop!" His voice cracked into a raw scream.
"Professor!" Zhang Qingli attempted to restrain the thrashing man, but the frenzied strength proved too much.
Shen Ji moved to assist while simultaneously producing a sedative, then a contamination suppressant from his pockets—administering both with practiced efficiency.
Zhang Qingli stared wide-eyed at the seamless medical intervention.
After waiting for the sedative to take effect and the person to calm down, Zhang Qingli asked in surprise, "You... carry contamination inhibitors when going out for meals?"
"Better safe than sorry," Shen Ji pointed at the motionless Song Yuanchang on the floor. "See? It came in handy."
"True enough."
Zhang Qingli was convinced. "I'll bring some next time we eat out too."
First, they called the facility staff on duty to transport Song Yuanchang to the contamination isolation room, then contacted the security team.
Things had escalated beyond mere coincidence or auditory hallucinations—there must be an undetected Pollutant here to have affected Song Yuanchang this way.
The security team took it very seriously. After obtaining the video Shen Ji had recorded, they prepared to investigate the sewers that very night.
By the time everything was handled, dawn was breaking.
Having stayed up all night, Zhang Qingli was so exhausted he could fall asleep the moment he closed his eyes. Shen Ji, however, was unaffected, though a normal person would naturally be tired at this point.
So, Shen Ji pretended to be tired too, taking twice as long as usual on the way back.
When they finally reached the dorm, Shen Ji clicked the door shut behind him and instantly returned to his normal, alert state.
He lay back on the bed and checked the time on his phone.
"Five o'clock. Two more hours until work starts. Life is hard."
[Your little mushroom is already hunting to provide for you.]
"To think I need a little mushroom picking through trash to support me—life is even harder."
The system had no words.
Rolling onto his stomach, Shen Ji continued browsing his phone.
The system observed quietly and noticed that despite his careless remarks, Shen Ji was actually searching the forums for topics related to "Midnight Singing," screenshotting and compiling any relevant information bit by bit.
It had to be said—Shen Ji truly lived up to being an exceptionally capable journalist. He worked methodically and never procrastinated on what needed to be done.
As he searched, a ding sounded. Shen Ji blinked.
"It's the protagonist again," Shen Ji muttered after checking the sender. "What's he up to now?"
[Take a look?]
Shen Ji opened the message from his contact labeled [Troublesome Protagonist], and the next moment, he was staring at a blue flower.
Flowers were placed in a transparent vase, nourished by water, with sunlight streaming through the window and casting a soft glow upon them. It looked utterly picturesque—if one ignored the text Li Zhiyan had posted alongside the image...
[Troublesome Protagonist: Good morning. This flower looks delicious.]
Shen Ji: "..."
So delicious, little butterfly. Are you craving nectar first thing in the morning?
Shen Ji pondered as he rolled over once more before reopening Li Zhiyan’s previous message. After several comparisons, he arrived at an absurd conclusion.
"Is he... pursuing me?"
[Wha—what?! The protagonist is gay?!]
"No," Shen Ji exhaled before closing his eyes. "Don’t you think the fact that I came to this conclusion makes me the gay one? Ugh, what the hell is he trying to say?"
[...]
"Relax, I won’t accept his advances."
[...]
Do I look like I’m worried about you ‘accepting’ him?!
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