Chapter 82: The Forgetfulness Engine: The Well -1

Seeing a man cleaner and more handsome than Ning Yang, the not-so-young woman smoothed her hair.
“You’re called Jiazijian, right?” she spoke first. “When you get supplies in the future, remember to keep more for yourself. Don’t take them for granted—this place is nothing like the world we used to know.”
“Thank you, I’ll keep that in mind.”
The woman gave Yang Zicang’s face a long, deep look before turning and entering the curtain.
Afterward, outside, Wang Chong muttered softly, “Aya was sold here by someone.”
Yang Zicang let out a sigh.
“We can’t manage this kind of thing for everyone. Let’s go find some new materials.”
Just as the three of them were leaving, someone passing by the house instinctively glanced at the jars Wang Chong and Xu Xiuchuan were carrying.
“The well?” the disheveled man muttered under his breath.
“Oh, Master Dung Shui woke up from his nap?”
“Get lost, fucker.”
Man spat toward the ground near the one who’d mocked him, then turned his eyes to the departing trio of YangZicang and frowned.
That jar… he knew it well.
“That much good water in those two crocks, eh? Sir Shelter, I mean–brother Jialuo, are you heading back to find people to figure a recipe?”
“I can’t wait to see Brother Jiazi build the well memory-erasure engine. Let’s see if Zhang Yuanxin can still laugh then!” Wang Chong said excitedly.
“Don’t worry about that guy.” Yang Zicang paid the man no mind at all.
Master Zhang looked to be in his thirties or forties, but he had been building residential boilers in the north decades ago, suggesting he was quite old, yet he came to this godforsaken place in the latter half of his life.
“It’s a pity these two cans of water aren’t enough for us to test two to three formulas,” said Xu Xiuchuan.
“As for the formula, there’s already a clue,” Yang Zicang said with a faint smile.
“Huh?” The two looked at him in unison.
Yang Zicang said, “Next, we need some triangular unconsciousness models. Can we buy them through the Time Sequence?”
“Of course, but the price may vary a lot; it fluctuates heavily.”
Without a stable market, the price is essentially whatever the seller says, which the buyer then haggles down to near nothing.
Yang Zicang was a bit troubled. But with the Time Sequence, he quickly spent 60N to get two triangular unconsciousness models, plus an additional two-edge model thrown in.
News that someone in the small shelter area was buying models spread like wildfire.
“Hey, boss, still buying?” Four more people came to Wang Chong’s door, holding a black glazed pebble-like object in their hand.
“Enough, not buying anymore.”
“How much are they selling for? Will twenty-nine years work for mine?”
“No need.”
“Twenty-six! I beg you, boss, take it! Or we help you get a refund for the overpriced ones?” They pretended to go find the person who sold the triangular and two-edge models for 40N.
Yang Zicang rubbed his forehead: “Alright, alright, the very last one. Brother Ning is a friend of mine; don‘t cause trouble for me.”
“Boss, thank you! Thank you!” Wang Chong refunded this person twenty-five years of Time Sequence.
Seeing the price so low, those who had hesitated earlier decided not to sell their models either. In a medium-to-large shelter, this model could fetch at least thirty to thirty-five years of temporal sequence, and the price would be even higher when the shelter was researching new engines.
In the distance, a disheveled, grimy man observed all of this.
……
Next, Yang Zicang did not go searching for materials. Instead, he spent the entire day wandering around the shelter with the six people he had met the day before.
It seemed that buying those Forgotten Models in the morning was merely a whim.
This left Zuo Feixian, who was secretly watching them, feeling a bit puzzled.
He had previously judged, based on how politely the shelter owner treated this guy, that the young man was no ordinary person—either possessing a special skill or being skilled in fighting.
But then this guy just loafed around with them all day, like a wandering thug.
Could it be that these people weren’t planning to build a well-drilling Forgotten Engine?
He frowned. Seven grown men wouldn’t even need a full day just to dig some dirt.
……
In the evening, Yang Zicang finally took the group with water and headed to a distant spot. They chose a place, sat down boasted idly for five or six hours.
The exhausted Zuo Feixian had long since fallen asleep behind a mound of soil in the distance, his snores audible even from afar.
Yang Zicang glanced in that direction, stood up, and said, “The materials should be ready. I’ll go fetch them and be right back. Wait for me.”
Amid the chaotic, swirling night wind, a train arriving swifly carried Yang Zicang away.
In less than half an hour, the train slowly pulled into the platform behind Wang Chong.
“Help me move these things, and be careful not to mess up the order.”
A few of them woke up the dozing Wang Chong, excitedly and enviously boarded the vehicle to look around, then carried down the prepared portions of soil and ore.
The boxes were marked with numbers indicating the order from top to bottom; the larger the number, the higher the moisture content in the soil.
These materials were obtained by the headquarters team from several real wells, sampled layer by layer, and then improved upon by experienced geologists. Based on their deduction, using current materials to build a Forgetting Engine would result in a well that produces high-quality natural deep mineral water.
“Brother Yang, these boxes smell a bit off?” someone pointed to a few boxes and asked.
“Oh, those are the coating agents. They’re not highly toxic—just handle them with care.”
“And these materials are for the boiler? Wait, hold on, Brother Yang, you didn’t actually tear down a boiler and bring it here, did you?”
“Mm-hmm.”
Piles of messy steel pipes surrounded them; a few people stepped back in fright, as this didn’t match their impression of a boiler at all.
“Will evil nightmares be born?”
“With me here, rest assured.”
After the work tent was set up, Yang Zicang asked, “Do you know how blueprints are made?”
“You need to find something from the interlaced Scene-Screen, and making blueprints relies heavily on luck.”
Realizing that he couldn’t exactly create a well blueprint, Yang Zicang on the wasteland said, “Are you ready?”
“Of course, of course—we’re fully supporting Brother Yang.”
“Brother Jiazi will tell us what materials to pass, and we’ll just hand them over. That way, we won’t make any mistakes.”
Yet on the other end of Yang Zicang’s Mental Link, on a black leather sofa, several middle-aged men with sharp, energetic looks nodded.
{We’re ready too.}
{Come on, young friend. It’s time for us old-timers to shine.}
{Actually, with Professor Zhao’s annotations, Xiao Yang will surely handle it.}
Yang Zicang said, “With everyone watching over me, I feel more at ease.”
The few people across from him nodded with relief, fully aware that their role at this moment was minimal—the young man simply wanted them to witness firsthand the result of their hard work taking shape after a busy day.
These individuals were quite uncertain of their own position. Some of their models were mediocre, others utterly useless; just being alive was a stroke of luck.
But now, they finally felt they were still “useful.”
“I’m starting.”
With these people around, Yang Zicang felt fully confident. He stepped into the makeshift workstation, looking at the chaotic glow that slowly enveloped him.
Outside the shelter, a few Zahuangren acting as assistants carefully handed in blue and yellow magic crystals.
They all rolled up their sleeves and washed their arms clean, fearing that dust or dirt from their clothes might fall into the shelter and get built into the engine.
Placing the Forgetting Model in front of him.
“First, Lethe.”
Yang Zicang removed the lid from the Lethe Fountain. As the model flickered and gathered into his hand, he pointed toward the water shimmering with the phantom of a “circular pit.”
Under the flicker of the magic crystal, most of the spring water turned into black-gray energy, converging before Yang Zicang’s chest and forming a small, suspended light orb.
Vague silhouettes of a person digging in the earth appeared within the light orb.
When the people at the headquarters saw the young man’s hand movements conjure such visions, they marveled in astonishment.
{Generally speaking, it would be simplest to directly place the well bottom soil first, but in reality, to prevent sinking or changes in water flow that could turn it into a dry well, the selection of the groundwater system structure requires high precision. Although such an extensive water network isn’t needed here, preventing sinking remains crucial.}
{So just in case—inside the tenth and largest storage box—we have configured the rock layer deconstruction material. Please check whether it has become scattered or disordered during transport and handling.}
“Box ten, carry it in carefully,” Yang Zicang called out. The two men outside hoisted the heavy crate into the work shed.
Looking in through the side, Yang Zicang could indeed see a well-proportioned distribution of rock layers, all soaking in clean spring water. Just this work alone wasn’t something that could be done in just an hour or two; everyone was truly giving their full support.
{No problem, just like before.} One of them breathed a sigh of relief.
Yang Zicang felt a surge of warmth in his heart; these people had achieved such results in just one short day.
He tapped lightly with his finger, and the magic crystal shone brightly. The chaotic energy cluster became denser, as if an invisible hand was gathering and drawing it together.
{Next, the bottom layer of soil from the well in compartment No. 9.}
A member of the expert panel opened the conversation.
“No. 9,” Yang Zicang called out sideways. The person outside quickly and carefully lifted the lid of box “9” and passed it in.
YangZicang’s flickering fingers tapped once inside the box, the clear spring suspended on the surface, the pebbles in the middle layer, and the mineral-rich soil at the bottom instantly transforming into a light brown energy, drifting toward the suspended sphere.