The Industrialist - Chapter 72: Sidetrack: Scent

Humanity has endured for millions of years, but recorded history only spans a mere four thousand years. During that unrecorded deep-sea age, what exactly were we doing?Countless indescribable beings ruled the universe, and our powerful ancestors preserved the fire of human civilization under their threat.Then they disappeared, and we rose.Now, they are coming back, mysterious psychic powers are awakening, the flame of human civilization is slowly extinguishing, and no kings are in sight...Chen Ke opens his eyes to see a world full of ruins and himself on the brink of death.The moment his heart was pierced by the Blasphemous Dagger, he became a dying man without a heart.Able to survive only 2 hours...

“Hot Noodles request to add you as a friend.”An inexplicable friend request, a non-existent contact.Claiming to be a message from herself in the future, intimately knowledgeable about her past.Fang Xiaocao was utterly numb.Hot Noodles: Danger, do not go home tonight.“Is this some kind of joke?”Staring at the WeChat message, Fang Xiaocao rolled her eyes and opened the anti-theft door.Hot Noodles: At midnight, when the knocking starts, don't turn on the light if you don't want to die.In the early morning: 00:00:00Fang Xiaocao was woken by the knocking sound. She was just about to turn on the bedside lamp when she remembered that bizarre message.She pulled back her hand and stayed put until dawn, only to know her neighbor next door, a woman living alone just like her was murdered at midnight...Fang Xiaocao was suddenly covered in a cold sweat.Hot Noodles: To celebrate our narrow escape from death, go to the flea market before three in the afternoon, stall number 7, and buy the seventh inkstone on the left-hand side. The seller's bottom price is 80, but the inkstone is worth 8 million.After last night's ordeal, Fang Xiaocao inexplicably chose to believe.She successfully bought an inkstone for a hundred dollars, and later discover it was indeed a imperial inkstone from the Qing Qianlong era, worthing 8 million!Fang Xiaocao stood there, dumbfounded!Following the message's instructions, she bought a second-hand car.But little did she know, the guidance was linking her into a series of events that dragged out a murder case and a fortune worth two small goals.Who on earth sent her the messages?It's really her future self?Or it's some kind of bizarre game?

[A Kung Pao Chicken that does not look as good as it tastes]

Ever since Jiang Feng had stumbled upon the discovery that he could actually see the descriptions of the dishes his father made, his life had taken a dramatic turn…

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You’d think seeing the future would give me a head start on surviving the apocalypse. I had it all planned—until everything I knew shattered when my husband sacrificed himself to save me and our son. Now it’s just me, my three-year-old son Leo, and my cursed gift of foresight that only seems to kick in when it’s nearly too late.I’m doing my best to keep us safe, to find food, to make some kind of plan—“Mommy?”I glance down, trying to ignore the tug on my pant leg as I focus on our supplies. “Not now, Leo. Mommy’s thinking.”“Mommy!”I sigh and finally look down. My three-year-old is standing there, clutching… I blink. “Leo, where did you get a knife?”He shrugs, grinning like it’s the most natural thing in the world.My heart stutters. “No, really. Where did you find that?”I try not to laugh. I mean, he’s three. Maybe he just—found it somewhere? But the next day, it’s a water bottle. Then, a tiny flashlight, somehow with batteries still inside.I don’t even know what else; he’s pulling things out one by one with the pleased grin of a kid who’s just figured out his favorite game.Well, we may just survive this mess after all.Now, if only the universe could have spared me from him. I don’t even know his name, but I know his type: tall, broad, and annoyingly handsome, with an air of calm control that’s out of place in this chaos. Ex-military, if I had to guess, with a voice that’s just as infuriating as his smirk. The man has a habit of showing up at the worst—or best—possible times, with a gun at the ready and secrets buried as deep as those bright green eyes.I mean, he’s probably useful, but I’m trying to keep my eyes on the prize here: survival.For Leo and me.Because, foresight or no foresight, nothing is guaranteed in this new world—except the fact that people like him are trouble.