Li Cheng couldn't shake the idea from his mind. The stopwatch's power haunted him, even more than the glowing lifespans he saw above every head. He didn't know how or why it worked, but its implications were staggering. As he walked to the office, he studied the lifespans around him. The vendor at the newsstand had 8,201 days, a young woman rushing to catch the bus had 4,310 days, and an elderly man walking his dog had a shockingly low 93 days, 18 hours, and 5 minutes.
For the first time, he considered what this power could mean for himself. Could he extend his own life by taking from others? Could he reverse the exhaustion he'd felt after giving the beggar two days? These questions lingered as he sat at his desk, the monotony of his job feeling like a distraction from something far bigger. When his manager, Ms. Chen, walked by, barking orders as usual, Li Cheng glanced at her lifespan: 44 days, 15 hours, and 8 minutes. She looked healthy, but her time was running out fast.
By lunch, Li Cheng decided to test his power further. He left the office, his mind racing as he searched for someone whose time he could approach. On a quiet street, he spotted a man leaning against a lamppost, scrolling through his phone. The man looked to be in his early thirties, dressed casually in jeans and a jacket. Above his head floated a lifespan of 10,112 days, 11 hours, and 44 minutes.
"Excuse me," Li Cheng said, approaching cautiously.
The man looked up, raising an eyebrow. "Yeah?"
Li Cheng hesitated. How could he even broach the subject without sounding insane? He decided to frame it like a business proposal. "Would you be willing to... make a deal? Something valuable in exchange for some of your time."
The man frowned, his confusion turning to suspicion. "What are you talking about? My time? Like... working hours?"
"No," Li Cheng said, lowering his voice. "I mean... literal time. Days, hours. Your lifespan."
The man laughed, clearly thinking it was a joke. "Okay, buddy. What's the catch? Are you selling some miracle cure or something?"
"I'm serious," Li Cheng said, pulling the stopwatch from his pocket. He held it up, its surface gleaming faintly. "I can give you money, but I need your time. Think of it as a trade."
The man stared at him for a moment, then shook his head. "You're nuts. Good luck with... whatever scam this is." He walked away, leaving Li Cheng standing there, clutching the stopwatch.
Frustrated, Li Cheng realized he needed a different approach. Returning to the office, he spent the rest of the day observing his coworkers' lifespans, the numbers above their heads gnawing at his thoughts. By evening, he decided to take a more strategic route. He would find someone desperate enough to listen, someone with nothing to lose.
Later that night, Li Cheng wandered into a part of the city he usually avoided, where dimly lit streets were lined with run-down buildings. He stopped outside a bar with a flickering neon sign. Inside, the air was thick with smoke and the faint smell of spilled beer. He spotted a man sitting alone at the bar, slouched over with a drink in hand. His lifespan read 190 days, 9 hours, and 56 minutes.
Sitting down next to him, Li Cheng ordered a drink and struck up a conversation. "Rough day?" he asked casually.
The man gave him a sideways glance. "Rough life," he muttered.
"I might have a way to make it better," Li Cheng said, leaning in slightly. "But it's... unconventional."
The man snorted. "Unconventional doesn't scare me. What are you selling?"
"Not selling. Trading," Li Cheng said, his voice low. He pulled out the stopwatch, letting it catch the dim light of the bar. "I can give you money, but I need something from you—time."
The man frowned, then laughed bitterly. "Time? You want my time? What the hell does that even mean?"
"It means I can take a few days or weeks off your lifespan and pay you for it," Li Cheng said, meeting his gaze. "You'll never feel the difference, and you get something you need right now."
The man stared at him, the skepticism in his eyes giving way to curiosity. "And how do I know you're not just full of crap?"
Li Cheng glanced around, ensuring no one was paying attention. Then he pressed the button on the stopwatch, freezing time. The bar went silent, the bartender frozen mid-pour, the haze of cigarette smoke hanging motionless in the air.
The man blinked, looking around in confusion. "What the—"
"You're the only one moving right now," Li Cheng said, his tone calm but firm. "Because I stopped time."
The man's eyes widened, his drink slipping from his hand and shattering on the floor. "How... How is this possible?"
Li Cheng restarted time, the noise and motion of the bar resuming as if nothing had happened. "That's just a fraction of what I can do," he said. "Now, do you want to make a deal or not?"
The man gulped, his hands trembling slightly. "How much are we talking about?"
"Let's say a week of your time for $5,000," Li Cheng said, leaning back. "It's your choice."
The man hesitated, then nodded slowly. "Alright... let's do it."
Li Cheng's heart raced as he prepared for his first deliberate transaction. He clutched the stopwatch, the numbers above the man's head shimmering faintly. This was just the beginning.
"Time is a currency, and I'm the only one who knows how to spend it."