ICSST CH101: Condensation

Zhou Qi’an’s mood instantly brightened to a cloudless state.

In a personal script, even if the ending meant death, there must be a process of salvation — otherwise, the game couldn’t proceed.

After a few seconds, several more lines of bloody text appeared in his mind:

“In this scene, you will play the [Victim]. It is forbidden to reveal your role card with subjective hints.”

“Please actively seek clues. There is one and only one killer in this scene.”

“Once you escape the fate of being maliciously murdered, the scene will end.”

[Note: The playtime for this scene is from 9 AM to 6 PM.]

[Note: You can only identify the killer at the ancient City’s security booth, open from 5 to 6 PM.]

[Note: When identifying, you must reconstruct the killer’s crime process. The testimony must include, but is not limited to, time, method, tools, and location for security verification. If you get any of these wrong, your identification fails.]

[Note: Every time a player reaches 50% participation, a clue about the killer will be unlocked. If more than seven clues are unlocked, the killer is deemed to have failed.]

For half a minute after the scene triggered, no one spoke.

The twin-tailed girl was the first to break the silence. She scanned everyone, then smiled:
“Actually, this is easy to crack. As long as we all stick together, we won’t give the killer a chance to strike.”

She was right — but even she found her own words amusing.

They still needed to find the pocket watch to trigger the next act. With twelve leads to investigate, splitting up would be much faster.

Sticking together meant they’d run out of time first.

Plus, everyone wanted to be the first to find the pocket watch — it might turn out to be a rare item.

No one responded to her suggestion, but she didn’t mind and continued:
“Then let’s make a group chat. Everyone reports where they’re going in the chat so others don’t waste trips.”

She paused, adding:
“And post a check-in photo to prove you actually went.”

“I agree,” Zhou Qi’an said. “Let’s name the group ‘Ancient City Suicide Squad’.”

“……”

Zhou Qi’an moved quickly. He pulled up the chat app, volunteered to be group admin, registered, and pulled everyone in.

He even thoughtfully pinned an announcement:
“Not one less.”

Combined with the group name, it was ironic as hell.

Players used their names as nicknames — saving the trouble of introductions.

Most used aliases. The steady man was called Dong Li (Winter Solstice), twin-tails called herself Xia Zhi (Summer Solstice), and the buzzcut man was Qiu Fen (Autumn Equinox) — all season-based, easy to remember.

The foreign team had Bertram, the short-haired woman Wen Xi, and the burly man Yuma.

“Ryoma,” Zhou Qi’an commented, “Cool name.”

“…It’s Yuma.” Wen Xi corrected on his behalf, adding:
“We’re mercenaries. Kid, you seem like a money-maker — if you ever need muscle, hire us.”

The gentlest-looking solo player had a simple name: Wen.

There were twelve customer receipts. Whoever picked the one who bought the pocket watch — all luck. Zhou Qi’an eyed the others:
“Alright, each of you transfer me 1,000 credits, and I’ll pick last.”

Xia Zhi raised a brow:
“The odds are the same. Why pay you?”

“You sure?” Zhou Qi’an asked lightly. “I have the most information. I might hit the mark in one try.”

“……” She wasn’t sure anymore.

Realistically, if he really had such skill, he wouldn’t brag — but still, he had a point: only he rode the bus yesterday, and no one soaks in a hot water barrel for no reason — it had to be a mission.

Most compromised.

Old players weren’t short on credits. Zhou Qi’an easily pocketed 6,000. When it was Wen’s turn, the latter just waved:
“I’ll also pick last.”

Apparently, he wasn’t interested in the pocket watch.

Zhou Qi’an smiled without comment.

This meek, nice guy was definitely not what he seemed.

Everyone still wore the outfits they picked earlier. Wen was on rollerblades — something most wouldn’t choose due to the noise and inconvenience.

Zhou Qi’an didn’t point it out, sticking to a businessman’s ethics, and picked second to last — even letting Shen Zhiyi and his group go before him.

His after-sales service made the others look at him with mixed expressions.

1,000 credits well spent.

After everyone picked, Zhou Qi’an didn’t leave right away. He looked around:
“Where did you eat lunch yesterday? I’m getting some breakfast.”

Shen Zhiyi said:
“I’ll take you.”

Watching Zhou Qi’an’s group of four leave, Xia Zhi sidled up to Dong Li:
“Captain, what’s their game?”

The buzzcut man was restless, speaking up before Dong Li:
“They’re eating together — not worried about a killer among them?”

Dong Li glanced at him, knowing what he was fretting about.

“Even if one of us is the killer, their goal won’t be to kill everyone.”

A 1v10? The game wasn’t that crazy. If everyone died, the instance would just end — where’s the story in that?

The buzzcut man asked hopefully:
“Could the killer be an NPC?”

“No,” Dong Li dismissed it immediately.

With so many players, no way the instance would throw in an NPC.

“Don’t worry too much. Like we discovered, we need sufficient clues to identify the killer — they must need certain conditions to kill.”

After Dong Li’s analysis, the buzzcut man calmed down.

Dong Li glanced at Xia Zhi — she got the hint and followed Zhou Qi’an’s group. That guy was the biggest wildcard; no one believed he’d give up the pocket watch, especially with the advantage he had.

But Zhou Qi’an wasn’t only being tailed by one — across the way, atop a taller building, Wen had silently appeared.

From his vantage, he could see the restaurant window where Zhou Qi’an and the others sat — as well as Xia Zhi and one of the mercenaries tailing them.

After a while, Wen curled his lips in a smile that didn’t match his gentle exterior:
“Solo instancing is a pain.”

Should he keep tailing Zhou Qi’an, or try his luck with the receipts?

That was the question.

---

Grand Lux Restaurant.

Few customers this morning. Zhou Qi’an only ordered three trays of soup dumplings and a pot of tea.

He ate unhurriedly, occasionally pausing to enjoy the background music.

After a bit, he looked at the college student:
“You full yet?”

The student nodded.

“Then go find the customer.”

The student was confused — he thought this leisurely pace meant Zhou Qi’an was going to slack off.

But Zhou Qi’an said:
“I chatted with the matchmaking tourists before — if your participation is too low, the play gets reshot.”

So, slacking off was just wishful thinking.

“Discussing the play like we are now? That’s an OOC penalty.”

They were breaking character.

The student: “……”

Then why are you still talking?

Zhou Mu, the last to put down her chopsticks, elegantly wiped her mouth, then looked at Zhou Qi’an:
“I’m going to buy a rice cooker. Wait here for me.”

How familiar. Zhou Qi’an smiled:
“Okay.”

After she left, Zhou Qi’an paid the bill. Before exiting, he glanced at the unusually quiet Shen Zhiyi — their eyes met briefly.

Then Zhou Qi’an clapped the student’s shoulder:
“Stick with your Brother Shen today.”

Before the student could react, Zhou Qi’an was gone like the wind.

“Why’d Brother Zhou run so fast?”

Shen Zhiyi set down his teacup:
“To escape.”

“?”

---

The sun over the ancient City offered no warmth. After sunrise, tourists and locals were already bustling. If you paid attention, the bargaining chatter at market stalls was all the same lines.

The ancient City was just a souped-up bus station — all actors.

Zhou Qi’an bolted out of City like mad, one thought on his mind:
I’m screwed.

His mom was definitely holding the killer card.

Otherwise, why mention buying a rice cooker? She was probably trying to put it back on the “daughter-in-law must-buy” list, then kill him justifiably.

“She still loves me.”

No one knows a mother like her son — Zhou Qi’an was touched. Only love would make her warn him.

He ran like a bat out of hell, unsure of the killer’s conditions, but certain he’d die horribly if he didn’t run early.

Behind him, the three stalkers gradually became visible.

Smart people overthink — while they debated whether he was baiting them, Zhou Qi’an had already dashed out of the ancient City.

The bus was still there.

Hardly any passengers — just the driver and two scattered people. Miss Qi visibly flinched when she saw Zhou Qi’an board.

“You…”

Zhou Qi’an lowered his eyes, bangs falling over his pale face:
“I had nightmares all night. I’m heading back to rest.”

Miss Qi’s professional smile grew playful.

There had been foolish actors before, squandering their chances and running away. But every time, they’d be dragged back for OOC violations, trapped in endless loops.

Yet Zhou Qi’an played the part well. He murmured:
“I dreamed I’d be dismembered and stuffed in trash bags.”

He tapped his brow:
“Look — don’t I look unlucky?”

Miss Qi smiled meaningfully:
“Perhaps.”

Fleeing wasn’t unlucky — it was asking for bloodshed.

Zhou Qi’an eyed the empty bus, unsure how long until it filled. He thought for a moment, went to the driver, and pulled out a wad of cash:

“I’ll charter the whole bus. Drive now.”

His tone remained calm, but his palms were already slick with sweat.

He’d already thought of a way to escape — but only if he could get back to the bus terminal.

The fear was he might not even make it that far.

Money solves everything. The driver nodded, “Alright then.”

Xia Zhi, still watching from the shadows, didn’t hesitate any longer. She hopped on the bus just seconds before departure, making up an excuse:
“I just remembered I left something back at the terminal.”

Seeing her get on, Yuma — one of the mercenaries — boarded as well.

One after another.

The last to board was Wen. Strangely, his rollerblades didn’t make much sound. He boarded cheerily:
“Mr. Zhou, since you’re so good at fortune-telling, how about a quick reading — which customer bought the pocket watch?”

That was his convenient excuse for tagging along.

Zhou Qi’an’s expression darkened as he lowered his voice:
“Get out of here. This bus is dangerous.”

Wen smiled, “Let’s have that reading first.”

Seeing Wen confront Zhou Qi’an, Xia Zhi and Yuma watched with interest.

They feared Wen’s duplicitous nature no less than Zhou Qi’an’s tricks.

After a few seconds of silent standoff, Zhou Qi’an shoved more money at the driver:
“Go. Now.”

The driver counted to make sure it was enough to buy out the remaining seats, then shut the doors. The bus turned and headed back toward the ancient City.

Zhou Qi’an sat near the door and window, his anxiety not lessening even as the bus sped onto the highway.

Even though he was on the verge of suffocation from tension, seeing the three others onboard still gave him a bit of warmth.

Back at breakfast, Shen Zhiyi had hinted they were being followed. Now that he’d taken three players with him, the others had a better shot at getting the pocket watch.

Important items should obviously stay in the hands of his own people.

Everyone saw how serious Zhou Qi’an was — it didn’t look like an act. They couldn’t help but suspect there was something fishy about his decision to give up picking the receipts first thing this morning.

---

Ancient City.

Not long ago, Zhou Mu stepped out of the electronics store, driving a sports car she borrowed from the shop owner. She enjoyed the cold breeze rushing in through the window, humming her favorite old songs.

On the passenger seat, buckled up, sat a rice cooker.

Her scripted role was simple and clear:

[Your story: After learning you accidentally sold a priceless pocket watch, you became twisted. Having been poor for so long, you believe that the pocket watch was a gift from heaven. Anyone trying to seize it from you deserves to die.]

[You hold the role of the killer in this scene.]

[Kill condition: You may only kill players whose participation rate in this scene is below 50%.]

[Judge participation carefully.]

[As player participation increases, clues related to the killer will be unlocked.]

Clearly, this scenario was pushing the killer to act. The more players survived, the higher the risk of being identified.

“Killing is such a beautiful thing — why call it a burden?”

After unlocking her killer identity, Zhou Mu’s personality seemed influenced. A red glow of bloodlust shimmered in her eyes, while the small snakes in her hair twisted and danced in the wind.

The scene had just begun, and no one had reached sufficient participation yet.

Zhou Mu smiled more confidently than Miss Qi.

In other words — she could kill indiscriminately.

---

The bus wasn’t slow on the highway.

Scenery flew by on both sides, Zhou Qi’an trying to reassure himself — unless his mom could fly, she shouldn’t be able to catch up.

Just as that thought formed, the bus abruptly slowed.

Then a weird noise — and the bus stopped dead in the middle of the highway. The driver cursed and tried restarting several times, but each time the engine stalled after a few meters.

“Broke down,” he cursed, slamming the wheel. “Wait here. I’ll call someone for repairs.”

Zhou Qi’an’s pupils dilated — of course, you couldn’t escape an instance by running. It would always pull tricks on you.

Yuma, being a mercenary with various skills, jumped down to inspect. After a round, he returned:
“It’s not just a breakdown. The tires are punctured — multiple ones — and the air is leaking fast.”

“Got any spares?”

The driver snapped, “No. We’ll have to wait for replacements.”

Zhou Qi’an clenched his fingers tightly.

The distance between the ancient City and the terminal wasn’t short. Who knew how much further was left? Running back would take immense stamina — but returning wasn’t an option either.

Hop the guardrail and hide in the wilderness?

Probably futile. If the tires could explode on the highway, who knew what would happen in the wild.

Finally, Zhou Qi’an gritted his teeth and jumped off the bus, running for the terminal.

Seeing this, Yuma instinctively ran too.

In an instance, when someone bolts — you run too. And never be last.

Xia Zhi followed, her twin tails bouncing with every step, feeling a bit stifled.

What the hell is happening?

Wen was the most relaxed, his rollerblades giving him an edge in speed. He was the only one barely keeping up with Zhou Qi’an, analyzing as he went:
“What are you so afraid of, Mr. Zhou?”

Wen’s mind was sharp, deducing two possibilities:

1. Zhou Qi’an was the killer, trying to lure them out.
   
2. Zhou Qi’an was being hunted by the killer.
   

“What do you think? The killer, obviously,” Zhou Qi’an snapped, wind lashing his face.

Wen looked puzzled:
“Oh? It’s four against one — we have the advantage.”

“Advantage, my ass.”

“……”

Wen hated it when people cursed involving moms. His kindly facade turned sinister — just as it did, a scream came from behind.

“Where did these snakes come from?!” Xia Zhi yelled.

Normal snakes wouldn’t trigger this reaction. Wen glanced back — the highway was crawling with a wave of snakes.

Xia Zhi, bringing up the rear, hacked one with a small knife, but when it split, both halves grew into new snakes.

The snakes emitted a nearly tangible black mist. When Xia Zhi swatted a piece aside, the black fog hit her skin, instantly blistering it.

Even a light touch made her entire arm throb with pain.

Wen, worldly as he was, dropped his casual air and sped up.

Zhou Qi’an’s heart pounded like it was going to burst.

Now that his mom’s power wasn’t restrained by the smuggler role, she could openly kill — way scarier than being chased by ghosts.

No wonder she was so calm last night.

She’d probably tried acting but had been waiting for the killer role. Out of seven acts, with players dying along the way, she was bound to draw the killer card once.

And now the snakes were here.

Could his mom be far behind?

Zhou Qi’an sprinted desperately.

Then — the sound of an approaching engine from behind.

Zhou Mu’s sports car was closing in. Neither mother nor son had any playful cat-and-mouse attitude — as she neared, she didn’t slow down at all.

Yuma stopped, hurling a small explosive at the car.

Before it even completed an arc, a snake leapt and swallowed it mid-air. The snake exploded, but its black blood mist fed the other snakes, making them more frenzied.

“Fuck!” Yuma swore. “The snakes can fly now?!”

But in that brief moment, Yuma saw the driver clearly — a woman.

He started running again, face twitching, and shouted at Zhou Qi’an’s back:
“It’s your mom!”

Tears almost burst from Zhou Qi’an’s eyes.

“My mom had a bloodline evolution error! She developed a [Berserker Bloodline] — when she loses control, she kills indiscriminately!”

No one doubted him now — the truth was obvious.

Xia Zhi, bleeding and wheezing, shouted:
“Why the fuck didn’t you say so earlier?!”

Zhou Qi’an didn’t answer. Talking messed up his breathing.

He’d warned them the bus was dangerous — couldn’t help it if they insisted on following.

The sports car engine roared ever closer.

They were all in the same boat now — especially Xia Zhi, barely keeping up, using tools to try and slow the car.

Zhou Qi’an felt nothing but gratitude. If he weren’t saving his breath, he’d have sung Grateful Heart for them.

But even then, as he ran, he bent his arm and formed a giant heart shape with his hands.

Love you guys~

“……”

__

Author’s Note:
Zhou Qi’an: At a time like this… should I sing ‘Unity is Strength’ or ‘Grateful Heart’?