Lucky Cruise Ship
Chapter 616: Flirting
“Hey, you two up front, how long are you going to keep chatting?”
Not far away, Chen Cheng had finally recovered from the agony of being targeted earlier. He propped himself up against the wall, straightened his body, and raised his voice with evident impatience.
“If you’re going to flirt, at least read the room.”
“…!”
Wen Jianyan jolted as if he had been scalded, taking a sharp step back.
“What?”
He looked at Chen Cheng, his eyes wide with shock.
“Huh? What’s wrong?” Chen Cheng glanced at him, seemingly surprised that Wen Jianyan was making such a fuss.
In the “Integrity First” live room chat:
[……]
[I mean, it’s not the first or second time Chen Cheng has spoken without caring if others live or die. I didn’t think anyone actually took his blabbering seriously.]
[Wait, Anchor, why is your reaction so big?]
[Yeah, Anchor, why are you reacting so hard?]
“…It’s nothing.”
Wen Jianyan seemed to realize his slip-up. He raised a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose, masking his momentary loss of composure.
“What’s the situation?” Ji Guan, still being carried over Kong Wei’s shoulder, was completely in the dark. ” Seriously, what happened?”
Ji Guan twisted his head around in confusion. “Who’s flirting with whom?”
“…No one is flirting.” Wen Jianyan took a deep breath, suppressing the urge to commit murder. To prevent Ji Guan from asking any more nonsense, he looked at Kong Wei. “Catch Ji Guan up on our progress.”
Kong Wei, who hadn’t spoken for at least an hour: “…”
He looked around silently, his face blank.
Huh? Me?
As someone who had never experienced what it felt like to be “bad with words,” Wen Jianyan didn’t seem to care about Kong Wei’s struggle. He stepped around Wu Zhu—keeping a deliberate distance this time—and crouched down in front of the corpse with the crushed head.
He carefully examined the corpse’s messy, hollowed-out abdomen and the skin traversed by bulging veins.
Wen Jianyan reached out and touched the sticky, amber-colored liquid on the corpse. He rubbed it between his fingertips, then lowered his head to sniff his own cuff, which now carried a faint, dark fragrance. A thoughtful expression appeared on his face.
“Well? Did you find anything?” Wen Ya asked.
“Yeah, pretty much.” Wen Jianyan ignored the hand Wu Zhu extended to him. Instead, he braced himself against the wall and slowly stood up on his own.
Wu Zhu looked down at his empty hand, then slowly retracted it.
In the “Integrity First” live room chat:
[…No, seriously. It was fine before he tried to avoid suspicion. Now that he’s avoiding him, why does it look even more suspicious?]
[What a classic case of ‘the lady doth protest too much.’]
[Is it just my illusion? Or did that guy become a little… scary after the Anchor avoided him?]
Wen Jianyan spoke up. “I think I know how Dan Zhu is able to find us wherever we go.”
“Why?” Everyone’s spirits lifted.
Wen Jianyan: “Dan Zhu’s talent is, in all likelihood, flowers.”
Chen Cheng had mentioned early on that he smelled a distinct scent of rotting corpses on Dan Zhu. Later, during the confrontation on the second floor of the casino, the explosive scent of rotting flowers coming from her confirmed this.
The corpse’s stomach was noticeably empty, as if all nutrients had been sucked dry. And what flowed from their shattered skulls—whether by smell or touch—was very close to plant sap.
“I suspect we were already stained with her ‘pollen’ back on the second floor of the casino,” Wen Jianyan said slowly as he organized his thoughts. “We became her pollinator bees. Wherever we go, we carry her seeds with us.”
The pollen acts as a parasite on corpses, taking root, sprouting, blooming, and bearing fruit.
These corpses were fine when the team first arrived on this floor, but they mutated by the time the team was leaving because the plants needed time to grow.
In contrast, look at how easily she inflicted pain on Chen Cheng—there was absolutely no wind-up; she could make him wish for death instantly.
“…”
Listening to Wen Jianyan’s description, everyone fell silent.
In that moment, they finally understood why Dan Zhu had said that line: “You didn’t think that just because you left my line of sight, I wouldn’t be able to find you, did you?”
Dan Zhu…
Her talent was just like her—glamorous and fatal. Like a flower of corruption parasitic on the dead.
It was truly bone-chilling.
“So we all have pollen on us?” Blond looked bewildered. “Can we get rid of it?”
“It’s difficult.” Wen Jianyan shrugged helplessly.
The stronger the talent, the harder it is to interfere with or remove. At Dan Zhu’s level, her talent had almost become a conceptual weapon. Even the cruise ship administrators like Eaton and Ethan were helpless against it, let alone them.
“Furthermore, you saw Chen Cheng’s state just now—the pollen isn’t just attached to us anymore. It has likely invaded our bodies, just waiting for a trigger to take root and sprout.”
“That’s bad,” Chen Mo frowned deeply. “If Dan Zhu’s talent is truly as you say, doesn’t that mean our lives are already in her hands?”
“You can’t exactly say that,” Chen Cheng said, crossing his arms.
As the only one who had been targeted, he clearly had the most right to speak on the matter.
“If she could just crush us remotely, we wouldn’t still be alive. Her talent likely has a range limit. Only when Dan Zhu, or a projection of Dan Zhu, is present can she activate her talent.”
So the problem circled back.
The pollen they carried would automatically parasitize and grow upon encountering corpses. Once Dan Zhu utilized other corpses to appear before them again, she likely wouldn’t be as merciful as she was this time.
“Is there anywhere on this cruise ship that doesn’t have corpses?” Wen Ya asked.
“…” No one answered.
Ever since the three administrators died, the rule system within the instance had collapsed. Now, the entire cruise ship had become a giant slaughterhouse. The “tenants” hunted freely, and the anchors fled in all directions.
Could there really be a floor without a single corpse?
Although there were core areas like B18 and B6 that other anchors couldn’t enter, they couldn’t enter those either.
“I actually know a place…” Wen Jianyan spoke slowly.
Everyone turned to look at him.
Wen Jianyan: “The rooms on the Negative 17th Floor have never been put up for sale.”
Hearing this, everyone was stunned.
That… was true.
In the Lucky Cruise Ship instance, there was an insurmountable hierarchy between floors, especially the deeper you went. If the deepest floor an anchor had stayed on was B15, then they could go anywhere above B15 during the day, but they could not reach any floor below it.
Even by last night, the deepest floor opened for sale was only B16.
This meant that, aside from B6 (the Casino Core) and B18 (the Auction Core)…
The Negative 17th Floor was the only remaining uninhabited territory on the entire ship.
Chen Mo said, “But we can’t get into B17 either.”
“…Not necessarily.”
Wen Jianyan took a deep breath and spoke slowly.
“…?”
What?
The group paused, instinctively turning to look at him.
Wen Jianyan briefly recounted what he had done last night after everyone else had entered their rooms.
“Wait, wait, wait. Guild Leader, the reason you can go to B17 is… Dan Zhu lives on B17?!”
Ma Qi’s eyes went wide.
Wen Jianyan: “Yes.”
The group fell silent.
How was this any different from a sheep walking into a tiger’s mouth?!
“I vote yes,” Chen Cheng revealed an eager expression. “Hiding on the floor where Dan Zhu lives… that’s exciting.”
He rubbed his hands together, itching to try.
“I’m really curious to see the look on her face when she discovers this. Just thinking about it feels good!”
“But Dan Zhu only invited you,” Wen Ya asked. “Can we go to B17 with you?”
“I’m not sure, but let’s try it first,” Wen Jianyan said.
“Regardless, we can’t stay on this floor too long—there are other corpses ahead. If they start taking root and sprouting too, we really won’t be able to run.”
That was true.
The group exchanged glances, then turned and headed toward the elevator.
Wen Jianyan lagged half a step behind and turned to look at Wu Zhu. “Right, and you.”
“Besides the previous stuff, I have something else I need you to do.”
Wen Jianyan avoided the gaze directed straight at him and looked down at the corpse with the shattered head nearby.
“If Dan Zhu doesn’t sense pollen growth on other floors, she’ll probably figure out our location very quickly, rendering our actions meaningless.”
His tone was strictly business.
“The liquid inside these skulls should also contain residual pollen. While we go to B17, I need you to control the ‘tenants’ to spread this pollen out. Ideally, scatter it evenly across every floor.”
Wu Zhu: “Okay.”
As soon as his voice fell, the “tenants” hiding in the darkness began to move.
Wen Jianyan nodded and turned to catch up with his teammates.
But as soon as he moved, Wu Zhu followed.
“Why are you still following me?”
Wen Jianyan paused, looking at Wu Zhu, who was sticking close to him.
Wu Zhu: “I want to.”
Wen Jianyan stopped in his tracks. Because he stopped too abruptly, he stumbled slightly, looking a bit uncoordinated.
After stopping, he almost instinctively looked ahead—the others were walking in front, guarding the perimeter. No one noticed the brief conversation happening back here.
“What, I can’t?” Wu Zhu lowered his eyes. His golden pupils stared fixedly at him. There was something direct and undisguised in his eyes, giving Wen Jianyan the illusion that his throat was being clamped by a predator’s jaws.
“…It’s not that you can’t,” Wen Jianyan looked ahead, avoiding his gaze, “but it will affect efficiency.”
“You don’t want me following you?” Wu Zhu asked.
“It’s not that—” Wen Jianyan instinctively retorted.
Unknowingly, the distance Wen Jianyan had previously kept from Wu Zhu had closed again. Their arms brushed; a heavy gaze rested on the side of his face. Even though they had shared much more intense contact before, the phantom sensation transmitted through their sleeves was something Wen Jianyan couldn’t ignore. It made him uncomfortable all over.
He took a deep breath and sidestepped slightly, but patiently said, “I told you, doing this affects efficiency—”
Before he could finish, his vision blurred.
Thud.
Wen Jianyan’s back hit the wall.
He wanted to struggle, but unfortunately, he was still too weak right now.
The loss of vitality made him dizzy, and his knees weak. He could only stand by relying on the wall behind him and the leg that had somehow wedged itself between his knees.
His chin was forced up.
A shadow descended, and his lips were forcefully pressed down upon.
“Ugh…” A muffled gasp squeezed out of his throat.
In the dim shadows, his scattered vision met a pair of pupils glowing in the dark.
Damn it!
Why so sudden?
And the others are just right over there—!
The shock of being kissed, the panic of potentially being discovered, the shame of doing this in public… countless emotions and thoughts tangled together, causing his brain to short-circuit. His mind went blank.
But, almost in the next second, the force pinning Wen Jianyan to the wall vanished.
Wu Zhu stepped back.
The kiss was short, fleeting.
How long did it last? Ten seconds? Five? Or even less?
Having lost the support pinning him to the wall, Wen Jianyan stumbled. His mind was still in a blank state of overload.
However, the moment his feet found purchase, Wen Jianyan was pulled back to reality.
He immediately noticed the changes in his body—the buzzing tinnitus was gone, and his freezing limbs were gradually warming up.
Wait, this is…
He froze slightly, looking up in astonishment at Wu Zhu, who stood a step away.
Wu Zhu: “Better now.”
It lacked context, even sounding a bit disjointed, but Wen Jianyan inexplicably knew what the first half of that sentence referred to.
It was the first thing Wu Zhu had said when they met—“You are very weak.”
Wen Jianyan, however, did not look happy.
He grabbed Wu Zhu’s arm backhandedly, his breathing ragged. His eyes were cold, as if he had been provoked:
“Did I ask you to do that?”
“It’s highly efficient,” Wu Zhu said.
“Don’t copy the way I talk!” Wen Jianyan’s voice carried anger. “Before was one thing, but now—”
It must be known that what Wu Zhu did was not healing, but transfer.
Wen Jianyan rationally analyzed his own discomfort.
Wu Zhu’s power was slowly growing within the instance, but he was still suppressed by the Nightmare. Transferring the weakness from Wen Jianyan to himself would persist, and it would take even more time to recover from it.
Regardless of how you looked at it, this was meaningless, not worth the cost, and did more harm than good.
In the midst of his fury, Wu Zhu suddenly raised his hand and rubbed his thumb against Wen Jianyan’s wet, glistening lower lip.
“…” Wen Jianyan stiffened at the sudden movement, the curse words choking in his throat.
“I understand now. You aren’t happy because I transferred your injury…”
Wu Zhu narrowed his eyes halfway, leaning down close. There was undisguised amusement in his tone.
“…not because I kissed you?”
At this moment, the bad mood from being rejected by Wen Jianyan earlier had completely vanished. It had even exceeded his expectations.
“…!”
Wen Jianyan’s pupils constricted. As if stung by the words, he violently let go and retreated, eager to put distance between them.
“Don’t you dare switch concepts on me,” he suppressed his emotions, looking as though he was grinding his teeth. “Of course, I’m not happy with either of those! I wasn’t before, and I certainly won’t be in the future…!”
As he spoke, he wiped the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand. His lips, having just been kissed, were becoming red and hot, catching the eye like a ripe fruit ready to burst.
Wu Zhu didn’t retreat. He looked at Wen Jianyan, his gaze landing on that lower lip, a fire seeming to smolder in the depths of his eyes.
“…”
He took a step forward.
“You want me to complete the task as efficiently as possible, just as you expect?”
The question came abruptly.
Wen Jianyan instinctively stepped back half a pace.
“—I can.”
Wu Zhu spoke methodically while closing in again.
Too close.
Wen Jianyan’s back hit the wall again. The other pressed so close that the air became thin.
“You want me to stop following you around?”
Those beast-like eyes shimmered above, locking him firmly in their sights.
“—That is also possible.”
“But the condition is, you have to admit…”
It wasn’t necessary to heal this way; both parties knew that.
However, despite being pinned to the wall and kissed, Wen Jianyan’s first reaction had been about the impropriety of the setting, not questioning the process or the method.
Wu Zhu leaned in, seemingly intending to force a moment of shrinking back from Wen Jianyan, to tear through his perfect disguise for a split second of panic—Wen Jianyan knew his intent, but…
He heard a chaotic thudding in his own mind.
When the distance between them was mere inches, Wu Zhu finally stopped.
—”Admit that you never rejected kissing me.”
His gaze was explicit, utterly direct.
“You like it just as much as I do.”
“…!”
Wen Jianyan’s neck tingled, and a layer of heat, like a shiver, broke out across his back.
Wu Zhu gave a short laugh.
Only then did he begin to retreat again, leisurely widening the distance.
Wu Zhu raised his hand and placed the mask back onto his face.
The mask covered his features, but it could not block the intense gaze beneath it—a gaze that looked as if it wanted to swallow Wen Jianyan whole.
“I will be quick.”
A low, pleasant voice came from beneath the mask.
As his voice faded, Wu Zhu’s figure vanished into the darkness.
In the empty corridor, Wen Jianyan stood rooted to the spot.
“…”
His chest heaved, his eyes flickering slightly.
Wu Zhu had left the zone of tension that made him so uncomfortable, but his undeniable presence and the influence exerted in those few short seconds didn’t seem to vanish with him.
The look the other had left him with was like a burn mark seared onto paper by fire—clear as an afterimage, lingering on his retina for a long time.
Chen Mo and the others had already reached the elevator entrance. Watching the arriving elevator, they were stunned to realize Wen Jianyan hadn’t kept up. They began turning their heads, looking around—
Just then, Wen Jianyan walked over quickly from the distance.
“Where did you go?”
Chen Mo frowned.
“Clarified some issues,” Wen Jianyan strode forward, being the first to step into the elevator. “Wu Zhu will spread the pollen to other floors. That way, it will mess up Dan Zhu’s judgment and buy us more time.”
The elevator began to move, the humming sound of chains filling the small space.
The explanation Wen Jianyan gave was normal; no one expressed doubt.
He didn’t lie.
He just hid a little something.
And so, apart from Wen Jianyan himself, there wasn’t a second person in the world who knew what had just happened.
Whether it was the whispered conversation or the brief, stolen kiss, it would all become a secret known to no one—
Wait a minute.
Wen Jianyan raised his eyes, looking calmly at the slowly changing numbers above the elevator door.
“…”
Did he turn off the livestream just now?
