Please provide the text you would like me to translate.

Chapter 2: The Existence of Space

What did Zhu Anfu encounter after passing out? Let’s take a look...

After losing too much blood (author, please stop repeating this!), Zhu Anfu felt something pecking at his hair—not just his hair, but every part of his body, even the most delicate areas. The pain jolted him awake. But... “Why are there so many chickens?” Staring in horror at the flock of chickens before him, Zhu Anfu, covered in feathers, was mortified. He hated live chickens more than anything. Without caring where he was, he leapt up and dashed outside. Once past the fence, he found himself on lush green grass with a clear brook nearby. Glancing back at the chicken coop, there was also a thatched house beside it, a well in front, and several acres of fields filled with a variety of vegetables. Around the fields, fruit trees grew in abundance.

Heavens, isn’t this the legendary “space” from the stories? “Damn, I’ve got my own space now! No need to worry about the apocalypse! Hahaha, cough, cough...” Overjoyed, Zhu Anfu choked on his own saliva.

He ran back and forth in the space, no longer afraid of the pecking chickens. He even found two eggs in the coop, which excited him to no end. The thatched house was fully equipped: a bed, tools for farm work, a stove—everything a normal household would need. Moreover, the inside of the house was much larger than it appeared from the outside. Zhu Anfu diligently cleaned the bedroom, and though there were no bedclothes, it was a place to rest. Leaning on the wooden bed, he was overwhelmed with delight, grinning foolishly at his own good fortune.

“Wait, how do I get out? Should I just shout, ‘I want to leave’?” As soon as the words left his mouth, he found himself back outside the space.

Standing on his sofa, Zhu Anfu jumped in place. “Yes! I’ve got my own space now—no need to envy those protagonists in the novels anymore. But I can’t let anyone know...” He quickly covered his mouth, then sat down obediently, studying the items on the coffee table. A new question arose: which item was the key to entering the space?

A fool is a fool, after all. He tried picking up each item and shouting “enter space,” but nothing worked. For over two hours, he painstakingly tried every single item, but still couldn’t figure out which one held the space. After exhausting all possibilities, he smacked his forehead. “How stupid—I should try taking the items farther away.” So, he began returning each item to its original place and tried entering the space in different rooms. Only when he picked up a butterfly-shaped jade pendant did he finally re-enter the space. Relieved, he realized that if he hadn’t found it soon, he’d have suspected that only by gathering all the items together could he get in. Now aware that the pendant was the key, he hung it around his neck. His mother had once prayed for it, and it was said to be blessed.

After returning everything else to its place, Zhu Anfu began moving all the items he’d bought into the space. He didn’t even question whether it would work—he simply believed, as in the novels, that the space would allow for storage and production. Thankfully, it did. He moved everything from his home inside, from the refrigerator and TV to the smallest trinket. As he placed each item into the space, the thatched house astonishingly transformed into a two-story building. Yet, in his foolishness, he didn’t find this surprising at all—after all, isn’t that how it always happens in novels?

Now, the only room in his house left untouched was his own; the rest were empty. Propping up his chin, Zhu Anfu wondered if he’d gone a bit overboard. You ask how he managed to move everything in by himself? Simple—anything he touched could be moved into the space, and inside, things could be rearranged just by willing it. Anyone who’s read space novels knows this principle—how could he not?

Having finished moving everything, Zhu Anfu lay back on his bed, pondering his next steps. He realized he’d forgotten to ask BB when the apocalypse would arrive—too careless of him. Turning over, he decided that no matter when it happened, he must finish all his unfinished stories before the world ended. He couldn’t bear to leave his readers with unresolved plots. Counting his money, he planned to spend it all. Why? Silly question! If the world’s ending, what good is money? Tomorrow, he’d buy bedclothes, warm clothes, and so on... He wondered if he could move a generator into the space, but then again, perhaps not. Better to buy more laptops and a portable hard drive—when one runs out of battery, he could use another. Who knew how long the apocalypse would last or how many laptops he’d need to get through it?

Zhu Anfu was wealthy—a kind of wealth few could match. Even those running companies might not be as rich as Zhu Anfu, between his inheritance and his own earnings.

He didn’t have many friends. Apart from his editor and some fellow writers he’d befriended online, the closest was Wei Chi Ankang. They’d met in high school because of their names—one Anfu, one Ankang. Their teacher had joked that they must be family. Zhu Anfu, ever silly, took to following Wei Chi Ankang everywhere, and though Ankang found his antics exasperating, he wouldn’t let anyone else bully him. During the college entrance exams, Ankang even took care of those who cursed Zhu Anfu. He hadn’t expected Zhu Anfu to actually get into university, but when he saw the school Zhu Anfu had chosen, he chose the same one. They spent four years together at university. After graduation, Ankang stayed on as a teacher, frequently visiting Zhu Anfu whenever he had time.

When Zhu Anfu’s parents passed away, Ankang had been there to help, fearing that greedy relatives might take advantage of him. But Zhu Anfu simply cried until all his relatives left—proving that fools really do have their own kind of luck.

“Damn it! Zhu Anfu, what have you done behind my back?” Wei Chi Ankang entered the house with the spare key, only to find the rooms completely empty. His first thought was that Zhu Anfu had moved out.

“Ah, Ankang, you’re here!” Zhu Anfu, hearing the noise, hurried out of his room. At the sight of Ankang, he cursed inwardly—how could he have forgotten that Ankang visited often? He’d put everything in the space! Still, telling Ankang should be fine. Ankang was his person, after all.

“What are you up to now? Where’s all your stuff? How come I leave for a week and the whole place is empty?” Seeing that Zhu Anfu was safe and sound, Ankang relaxed a little—stuff could be replaced, but he’d been worried someone might have taken advantage of him. Zhu Anfu was just too trusting; if he believed someone was good, he’d believe anything—even if told the world was ending. Like last time, when Ankang had mentioned a possible earthquake, Zhu Anfu had spent three days camping out on the public square. And there really had been an earthquake. But when Zhu Anfu naively warned his neighbors, they’d just thought he was a fool. The earthquake warning hadn’t been publicized to avoid panic; Ankang’s friend at the Seismological Bureau had told him privately.

“Ankang, let me tell you! My editor sent me a message saying the world’s going to end, so I went and bought supplies,” Zhu Anfu said with a look that begged for praise.

“So you sold everything and bought supplies?” Ankang’s voice rose with disbelief. Damn it, was Zhu Anfu’s editor out of their mind, playing such jokes on him? “How much did you buy? Where is it all?” Ankang searched the house.

Zhu Anfu followed behind. “You won’t find it,” he said, because everything was hidden in the space. But Ankang interpreted this to mean Zhu Anfu hadn’t bought anything yet and sighed with relief. “Well, if you’ve sold everything, it’s fine. I was looking for a place to stay anyway. I’ll move in.”

“You’re moving in? That’s great!” Zhu Anfu was so thrilled that he forgot about telling Ankang about the space. “Now I can eat your cooking all the time. But don’t you have a dorm at the school?”

If Ankang didn’t move in, Zhu Anfu might just sell the house piece by piece. Of course, Ankang didn’t say this out loud, replying only with a blank face, “There aren’t enough dorms.”

Zhu Anfu was only making conversation—he was delighted Ankang would be living with him. He hurried off to turn off his computer. “When will you move? Is there anything you need to prepare?”

“No need for anything. I’ll move this afternoon. I just need to pack up and call a moving company. You just stay put.” Ankang went into the kitchen to assess the damage Zhu Anfu had caused. Seeing the empty kitchen, Ankang swallowed his urge to give Zhu Anfu’s editor a piece of his mind. He’d have to buy new things—but he couldn’t let Zhu Anfu do the shopping, his thinking was too simplistic. “Did you change editors?” he asked, suppressing his anger.

Zhu Anfu shook his head. “Jin She bought a house and said she wouldn’t change jobs for at least ten years.”

Damn, did Jin She get hit in the head by a door to be making jokes with Zhu Anfu?