WTNL Chapter 398

(3/5)

Yuying University
Chapter 398: What a shame, my baby.

Water gushed from the fully opened faucet, splashing noisily into the brimming sink before overflowing onto the floor. The accumulated water had risen to over half an inch, and in the center of the room lay a corpse in a tragic state, surrounded by a pool of blood-tinged water.

A pair of bloodshot eyeballs floated up and down in the water.

The whole scene was disturbingly eerie—something that instinctively made one want to retreat.

Standing at the doorway, Orange Candy appeared completely unfazed by the grisly sight, tilting her head in thought.

“Did you search the body?”

She suddenly asked.

“…Huh?”

Scarface was momentarily stunned, as if he didn’t quite register what she meant.

“I said, did you search the body?” Orange Candy rolled her eyes and repeated patiently.

“Uh, no…”

Scarface was caught off guard.

“What? You mean all this time, you’ve just been standing here staring at it?” Orange Candy widened her eyes in disbelief, looking at him like he was an idiot.

Scarface: “…”

Faced with a scene this dangerous, where a new death could occur at any moment, who in their right mind would want to get close? Who knew if they’d be the next one lying there?

“Move, useless.”

Orange Candy scoffed, stepping straight into the washroom.

Behind her, the rest of the team followed with composed expressions. As if long accustomed to such situations, they skillfully began searching for clues. Meanwhile, the members of the other group stood outside the washroom, watching blankly.

Orange Candy crouched beside the corpse and began examining it meticulously.

She clearly hated physical contact with the living, but showed no psychological resistance when it came to handling a bloody corpse. Even as she picked up one of the eyeballs and examined it, her expression remained unchanged.

To her, the horribly mutilated body before her seemed no different than some squishy plastic toy she could casually play with.

Wen Jianyan walked over to a nearby sink.

There were two rows of sinks in the room. The rims were grimy and yellowed, covered with stains that didn’t wash away even under the constant flow of water.

Suddenly, he paused.

On the rim of the second sink near the window, there was a vivid, bloody handprint.

Though partially smudged by water, the still-wet red stain was clearly visible.

Wen Jianyan tilted his head, studying the handprint. Something about it felt… off.

He leaned in and peered into the sink.

The water inside was murky, swirling with a deeper red hue than the other sinks.

It was clear: this was where Richard had gouged out his own eyes.

As Wen Jianyan pondered, a strange “gurgling” sound reached his ears.

He froze and turned toward the source of the sound.

It seemed to be coming from the drain in the floor.

Wen Jianyan stepped forward, crouched down, and looked into the dark opening.

The round drain was pitch-black and unfathomably deep—he couldn’t see a thing.

As he leaned closer, a strong stench of rot hit him, making him reel back.

Then, a thought occurred to him.

He picked up a toothbrush from the nearby windowsill and stuck it into the drain. After just a few centimeters, it hit something solid.

“…”

He paused, then slowly twisted the brush, pulling it out.

“GURGLE!!” The drain echoed emptily.

As the toothbrush came free, a small whirlpool formed in the water on the floor, and the blood-streaked liquid began to drain away.

Wen Jianyan looked down at the toothbrush.

A large clump of dry, black hair was wrapped around its tip.

It seemed this was the reason the water hadn’t been draining.

But this was a male dormitory.

A clump of hair this large clearly didn’t belong here.

Wen Jianyan’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully, recalling the maggots and hair he’d seen in the boys’ bathroom earlier.

Just then, Orange Candy—still rummaging through the body—seemed to have found something.

“Hey.”

Wen Jianyan turned toward the voice.

The next moment, something silver gleamed through the air, tossed in his direction.

He reflexively caught it and looked closer.

It was a key.

A dormitory key like all “freshmen” had. A bit of fresh blood clung to it, and three digits were barely legible on the attached tag:

“504.”

“That should be his dorm,” Orange Candy said nonchalantly, standing up and carefully wiping the blood from her hands. “Come on, let’s check it out.”

The others nodded.

They left the washroom, brushing past the dazed livestreamers still standing like statues, and made their way down the corridor.

“Hey, wait up!”

Scarface seemed to snap out of his daze and hurried after them.

Orange Candy didn’t bother stopping them—after all, they had more important things to do.

Soon, the group reached Room 504.

Wen Jianyan inserted the key into the lock and gave it a gentle twist.

The door clicked open.

The door creaked open inward, revealing an empty, pitch-black boys’ dormitory.

“Search,” Orange Candy said, tipping her chin.

“Let’s find out which bed was Richard’s.”

The group began rummaging through the room. It didn’t take long before they located Richard’s bed by the name on the textbooks scattered over a desk.

It was the lower bunk, right side, closest to the door.

Orange Candy immediately started tearing through the bed with wild abandon—ripping off the sheets, flipping the mattress, shredding the duvet cover, and yanking out the pillow. Her approach was so aggressive it looked like a tornado had swept through. Scarface and his crew stared in stunned silence.

Meanwhile, Wen Jianyan wandered around the room with nothing much to do.

The place was the textbook definition of a college boys’ dorm—messy, cramped, and reeking of sweat. Clothes and books were strewn everywhere, a basketball rolled on the floor, and posters clung to the walls.

Large water stains marred the walls, and the whole room smelled damp and musty.

Suddenly, Orange Candy froze. “Ha! Got something!”

She triumphantly held up a diary.

“Dun-dun-dun-dunnn!”

She tried to open it, but to her disappointment, it had a four-digit combination lock.

“What the hell,” she scowled.

“Who still locks their diary in this day and age? Shameless!”

Wen Jianyan chuckled and was about to walk over when something on the wall caught his eye.

Behind a basketball jersey hanging at the head of Richard’s bed, there was a hint of brownish-red.

He frowned and stepped forward, lifting the jersey.

Behind it was a plain white wall.

On the wall, in wild, frantic handwriting, were the words:

“Stop looking.”

“!”

Wen Jianyan’s hand clenched around the shirt.

Stop looking?

At what?

This dorm? That wall? Or was it referring to that horrifying scene where Richard gouged out his own eyes? Or perhaps… the film itself?

As Wen Jianyan stood lost in thought, Wei Cheng, who had stayed by the door, suddenly shouted, “Get out! Now!”

His voice was tense—something was clearly very wrong.

The group startled, exchanged quick glances, and rushed out of the dorm.

The moment they stepped out, they knew something was off.

Too dark.

The corridor, which had been fully lit moments ago, now had only one dim light flickering at the far end.

In the faint glow, a stiff figure stood not far away—its face obscured, but it gave the eerie sensation of being watched.

The figure moved forward, step by step, unnaturally rigid.

Drip, drip.

The sound of water dripping echoed through the corridor.

“It’s Richard,” Wei Cheng said, eyes wide. “I saw him walk out of the washroom.”

Richard, who was clearly dead, was now standing right in front of them?

Everyone’s heart sank.

This confirmed their worst fear.

In the film Brave Richard, the protagonist’s death wasn’t the end—it was the beginning of everything.

Suddenly, Tian Ye gasped sharply. “Crap!”

He pointed behind them. “The scene’s ending again!”

They all turned around.

Sure enough, the blank film strip was rolling in once more, eating away at the corridor from behind like a wave of nothingness.

But at the same time, “Richard’s” corpse kept coming forward—slowly but steadily.

“!!!” Scarface turned pale, cold sweat pouring down his forehead.

He looked from the ghost on one side to the creeping void on the other.

“Quick, use an item!”

He screamed.

“Move!” Orange Candy’s eyes narrowed as she made a snap decision.

She dashed straight toward Richard.

In a situation like this, it was smarter to face the ghost, which at least followed set rules, than to be wiped out by the irrational mechanics of the copy itself.

Wen Jianyan followed right behind her.

He understood Orange Candy’s reasoning, but as he stared at the black figure at the end of the hallway, his face went a little green.

“……”

Ahhhhhh just because you’re not afraid of ghosts doesn’t mean everyone else isn’t!!!

Their hurried footsteps echoed down the corridor, bringing them closer and closer to Richard.

A pungent, fishy smell of water assaulted their senses—along with an overpowering stench of rot that made them want to vomit.

Closer.

Even closer.

Zzz… zzzzz.

The last two hallway lights flickered valiantly for a few seconds, then gave out.

Snap.

They, too, were swallowed by the darkness, plunging the entire hallway into thick, suffocating black.

Wen Jianyan kept running.

He fumbled for his phone, blindly searching for the flashlight function in the dark.

His palms were slick with sweat, and his heartbeat and ragged breathing pounded in his ears, drowning out even the footsteps of the others.

Thump-thump, thump-thump.

His fingers slid hastily across the screen, made slippery by sweat, making it difficult to operate.

Wen Jianyan glanced at the phone screen and quickly tapped it.

A faint white light lit up, dispelling the darkness.

He raised his eyes—

And the next second, his breath instantly stopped.

At the moment he looked up, Wen Jianyan saw, just a few centimeters from his face, a mass of writhing black hair shaped like a human silhouette. At the center of the black hair were two deeply sunken holes, with countless white maggots wriggling inside the dark cavities.

It looked like…

A face.

It was so close that he could smell the overwhelming stench of rot. The damp hair had somehow wrapped around his arm and was slowly tightening.

In the upper-right corner of his vision, both his health and SAN bars were steadily decreasing.

Wen Jianyan gritted his teeth, preparing to activate a prop—

“Riiiiiiiing!”

The shrill sound of the class bell rang.

Wen Jianyan gasped sharply and suddenly opened his eyes.

At some point, the scene before him had turned into a classroom.

The projector was humming softly, and on the screen at the front, white cursive English letters stood out starkly against the black background:

[THE END]

Teacher Sun’s face still wore the same unchanging smile. He stood rigidly at the podium, staring at the freshmen in the classroom with those unnervingly penetrating eyes.

Was it just his imagination, or were one or two seats now empty compared to before class?

…Was it over?

Wen Jianyan sat at his desk, his back still drenched in cold sweat, his palms clammy.

His gaze fell on the black screen, and for a moment, he couldn’t quite come back to his senses.

It was really over?

“The first class ends here,” Teacher Sun said, bowing his head. He did something at the control panel, and with a mechanical hum, the screen slowly rolled upward. The classroom grew brighter as natural light returned, and everything seemed normal once again.

Wen Jianyan took the opportunity to glance toward the door.

The darkness in the hallway had vanished, replaced by the increasing sound of footsteps—students from other classes were clearly also finishing up.

“Please keep your draft papers safe, don’t lose them,” Teacher Sun said, his smile unchanged. Yet somehow, it seemed more greedy, more sinister. “And don’t forget to submit a 1500-word film critique as soon as possible.”

With that, he turned and disappeared outside the classroom.

Inside, the students sat in their seats, their faces pale and dazed, clearly still shaken from the “movie content” they had just experienced.

“Huh?”

Su Cheng blinked and asked what everyone else was thinking: “That’s it?”

The movie had been extremely simple—only two scenes, and even the death conditions were rather lenient.

From the looks of it, probably only those who were swallowed by the blank film reel had truly died during this film class.

“Seems like it,” Yun Bilan said, quickly regaining composure. She stood up and stretched. “No need to be too surprised. This is just an A-level instance. There’s no way they’d throw an unsolvable death trap at us in the very first class.”

…That was true.

The group exchanged glances and shrugged.

“Ahhh!!” Orange Candy suddenly cried, looking at her empty hands, eyes widening in horror. “Shit, the diary! I didn’t get to read it!!”

Even though the movie had ended, the items from the film hadn’t followed them out—instead, they had vanished entirely.

Orange Candy slammed her fist on the desk in frustration.

“Damn it! If I had known, I wouldn’t have been so cautious! I should’ve just smashed the lock open and read it, no matter what!”

Everyone: “…”

Yeah, probably not necessary.

“Well, we have another film appreciation class this Wednesday,” Wen Jianyan said to comfort her. “Maybe we’ll get to watch it again or enter from a different perspective.”

He was already experienced with this kind of thing.

The part they watched today was clearly just the tip of the iceberg of Brave Richard. The information was sparse and vague.

Obviously, this film wasn’t over—this was just the beginning.

And the next class… might be the real main event.

Orange Candy still looked sour.

“Oh right,” Wen Jianyan suddenly remembered something and glanced at the time. “The cafeteria should be open now. Should we go check it out?”

Orange Candy pouted, still not fully over her frustration, but she jumped off her chair and said reluctantly, “Fine, let’s go.”

Behind her, Wei Cheng silently gave Wen Jianyan a thumbs-up.

Bro, that was impressive.

It was the first time he’d seen someone calm their team captain down so quickly…

A true expert at stroking egos.

Wen Jianyan just gave him a helpless shrug.

No choice—he was used to it.

The group walked toward the classroom door.

Wen Jianyan turned slightly and glanced back at the room.

In the front row, the scar-faced man who had picked the same film as them was still sitting in his seat, face ashen, drenched in sweat, his gaze slightly vacant, clearly still reeling from the earlier horror.

He looked at Wen Jianyan, opened his mouth as if wanting to say something.

Outside the classroom, Orange Candy’s lazy voice called out:

“Hey, what are you waiting for? Let’s go!”

Wen Jianyan nodded at the scar-faced man, then turned and left with the others.

---

As expected, the cafeteria was open.

It was a large space, but oddly dim. A few windows were open, with cafeteria staff behind them dressed in filthy white aprons.

Their faces were completely obscured by the signage above them.

[Steamed Bun — 1 Credit]
[Stuffed Bun — 2 Credits]
[Noodles — 5 Credits]

“Huh?” Orange Candy wrinkled her nose. “What kind of crappy cafeteria only sells three things?”

“We have to pay with credits,” Wen Jianyan said thoughtfully, stroking his chin. “So, just like Hugo guessed, this should be the instance’s item system for restoring our stats.”

“I think so too,” Su Cheng agreed with a nod.

After all, they only started earning credits after registering for classes, and those credits could now be used to buy “food” from the cafeteria.

So clearly, the cafeteria items weren’t real food—they were props.

“Report your current stats,” Orange Candy ordered.

Everyone gave their numbers.

After just one film appreciation class, both their health and SAN had dropped noticeably.

And among them, the one who had lost the most was…

Everyone’s eyes slowly turned to one person.

Wen Jianyan: “…”

What do you want me to do about it?

I didn’t want to either!

“Alright, got it.” Orange Candy skipped off toward the window.

Very soon, she returned with steamed buns and stuffed buns.

After all, noodles were far too expensive—probably items that could restore a significant amount of HP. Given that their health and SAN bars weren’t down by much yet, it felt like a waste to buy them now.

“Here.” Orange Candy handed the food to Wen Jianyan. “Try it.”

Wen Jianyan’s gaze fell on the steaming hot mantou and bun, and his face turned a little pale.

“What’s wrong?” Orange Candy asked.

“…It’s nothing.”

There was a bitter taste in Wen Jianyan’s mouth.

Mainly because the last time he’d bought so-called “healing items” in a instance, it turned out to be syrup made from juiced frogs… That experience left quite the psychological trauma. Now, whenever he saw similar items, he couldn’t help worrying they’d be made the same way.

Yun Bilan seemed to empathize and patted his shoulder. “Maybe don’t eat it?”

“It’s fine.” Wen Jianyan took a deep breath, mentally braced himself, and then accepted the bun and dumpling from Orange Candy.

After all, this was an open-ended instance with no time limit. No one knew how long they’d be stuck here. So later on, regardless of what was inside the food, they’d have to try it anyway—

Gripping the steaming white bun, Wen Jianyan shut his eyes tightly, then mustered up his courage and shoved it into his mouth.

Hm… The taste was surprisingly normal.

He cautiously cracked open an eyelid and glanced at the bun in his hand.

It looked normal too.

After crossing that first mental hurdle, the rest came easier.

Although he wasn’t really hungry after the “film appreciation session,” Wen Jianyan still managed to eat the bun in just a few bites.

Then, under his hopeful gaze, the red HP bar above his head—previously gnawed down to 87—began to slowly rise. It climbed up to 97, just one point short of full.

“…”

Wen Jianyan blinked and said, “HP increased by 10 points.”

Just as expected.

The group exchanged glances.

“Wait!” Wen Jianyan suddenly spoke up again.

Everyone’s heart skipped a beat. They all turned to look at him.

Wen Jianyan’s expression grew serious as he slowly said:

“…My SAN dropped.”

Orange Candy: “How much?”

Wen Jianyan: “10 points.”

Last night, he lost 10 SAN points. During today’s film class, he lost another 21. Over time, his SAN bar had naturally regenerated by 2 points.

But after eating that bun, it dropped another 10.

They’d only been in the instance for a single day, and he already had just 61 MP left.

In the “Integrity First” live room chat:

[Damn, that’s rough.]

[HAHAHAHAHA he’s so miserable!!!]

[My poor baby, I’m laughing even though I feel bad!]

Everyone was stunned, their expressions turning grim.

In other words, although the bun restored HP, it reduced SAN…

That was not a good thing at all.

Orange Candy seriously put away the remaining bun: “You better not eat this one.”

If the bun restored SAN, that’d be great. But if it worked like the bun—or worse, restored even more HP at the cost of even more SAN—Wen Jianyan’s SAN bar would take another big hit. That would make him extremely vulnerable, like a beacon drawing danger in this instance.

“We’ll wait until one of us loses HP, then have that person try it.” Orange Candy casually tossed the bun into the air and caught it again, looking lazy as ever.

Now it was just a matter of waiting to see who the next unlucky guinea pig would be.

In the “Integrity First” live room chat:

[Hmmm…]

[I think…]

[Like…]

[Yeah, I feel the same way…]

[Y’all know what I mean, right?]

*

And just like that, Monday morning’s classes at Yuying University were over.

However, for Wen Jianyan and the others, the challenge wasn’t finished yet—they had one more required course in the afternoon. And unfortunately, the club recruitment period overlapped almost entirely with this class.

So if they wanted to make it to club recruitment on time, they’d have to move fast.

Before class began, they headed to the specialized course classroom.

The professor wasn’t there yet.

But some fast-moving streamers had already arrived and claimed seats.

“Even though none of us are actual college students anymore, everyone still remembers how this works,” Su Cheng said, shaking his head in amazement.

Sitting too close to the front was too dangerous. Too far back was also risky—easier to get targeted if something happened. So most streamers chose the middle rows, leaving both the front and back of the classroom empty.

Orange Candy lazily scanned the room, then walked straight to the front row and sat dead center.

There were audible gasps from the others.

Wen Jianyan sighed silently.

If it were up to him, he’d definitely not be so high-profile. After all, with his style, the less attention the better. Caution and survival came first in almost all his decisions.

But unfortunately, his current team leader was far too bold and unconventional…

So Wen Jianyan had no choice but to bite the bullet and be high-profile himself, choosing a corner seat in the front row.

“Specialized course, huh…” Orange Candy propped her chin on one hand, legs swinging, eyes curiously fixed on the empty lectern. “I wonder what ours will be like.”

“Hard to say.”

Wen Jianyan responded.

Before anything began, it was impossible to predict for sure. But… some vague ideas had already started to form in his mind.

“Where’s Hugo? When is he showing up?” Wen Jianyan asked.

“Who knows.” Orange Candy shrugged. “Knowing him, it wouldn’t be surprising if he didn’t show up at all.”

Though Orange Candy’s style in instances could be described as direct and aggressive, she still followed the instance’s internal rules and was willing to go along with the process—at least until they fully figured the place out. Still, even she had to admit, when it came to doing whatever he wanted, Hugo had way more experience.

“No need to wait for him. If anything happens, he’ll contact us,” Orange Candy said.

Wen Jianyan nodded.

He took off his backpack and pulled out two thick books filled with incomprehensible characters.

He couldn’t read a word in them, but… better to have something than nothing.

Wen Jianyan looked into his backpack—and froze.

At the very bottom of the bag lay a small pink thermos cup, decorated with a strawberry pattern.

It belonged to a girl named Chu Chu.

A cup from the movie world.

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