After setting up the advertisement board, Zhou Qi’an went upstairs, his task successfully completed.
As closing time approached, the supermarket’s broadcast stopped, and the once lively first floor was suddenly filled with a desolate atmosphere. Two ornamental koi swam frantically in the pond, seemingly never tiring.
Outside, the sky had darkened even more. Not wanting to delay further, Zhou Qi’an quickly swiped his elevator card and ascended as fast as possible.
Third Floor.
The few remaining shops had already closed, leaving the vast space with only one living person—the hooded figure. Compared to when Zhou Qi’an had left, the person’s posture had barely changed.
“Thanks.”
Having taken it upon himself to leave the store under someone else’s watch, Zhou Qi’an now casually expressed his gratitude. After that, he picked up the remaining pieces of paper and leaned over the rice cabinet to write his plan.
- Keep the job.
- Find the ghost, follow the trail to the source of the supernatural activity, and resolve it.
A more concise summary: Work. Kill ghosts.
“This time, I’ve also made a good start.”
Clearly, the information provided by the monster passenger was extremely important. As long as he got hired at one of the stores they had mentioned in conversation, he could obtain key information.
From here on, it should be easy to trigger effective tasks.
Halfway through writing, Zhou Qi’an covered his nose and mouth with his other hand.
Further inside past the elevator was the restroom, from which the smell of disinfectant and an unpleasant stench occasionally wafted over. At first, he assumed it was just the restroom’s odor, but then he realized something was off—it seemed to be coming from the rice container instead. As time passed, the smell continued to intensify.
Under normal circumstances, one would definitely open the container to check.
But Zhou Qi’an didn’t even spare it a glance.
Muttering to himself, he said, “The rice is going to be sold tomorrow anyway.”
Looking wouldn’t change anything.
Nine o’clock turned into ten, then eleven… He did absolutely nothing extra. Maybe staying in one place for too long had an effect, as a strong wave of drowsiness gradually overtook him. He leaned over the glass table for a nap, trying at one point to force himself to stay awake, but the exhaustion quickly overwhelmed him.
The heavier his eyelids felt, the clearer his vision became.
Directly ahead, on the transparent rice container, a horribly disfigured face appeared.
It looked furious, as if demanding to know why he refused to look at it!
Zhou Qi’an shuddered, but his body wouldn’t move.
With a sharp crack, he watched as the container shattered before his eyes. A flood of rancid-smelling rice poured out like a tide.
He struggled to retreat, but it was futile. Within half a minute, the rice had nearly reached him.
“Help…”
As soon as he opened his mouth, raw rice surged into his throat, blocking his airway.
The remaining grains forced their way into his ears, filling him up like a human rice doll.
Crushed under the weight and struggling for breath, Zhou Qi’an quickly suppressed his initial reflex to call for help and calmed down.
From the moment he had come upstairs to when drowsiness set in, he had barely moved—let alone triggered a death rule.
Rice was the store’s most valuable commodity; using it in an explosive attack just to kill someone seemed too extravagant.
But the most suspicious thing was the absence of a certain sound.
As his suspicion deepened, the rice in his throat seemed to lessen slightly, allowing him to squeeze out a few words:
“A dream… or an illusion?”
The disfigured face in the rice container seemed to freeze for a moment.
“Idiot…”
Ignoring everything else, the biggest flaw was that before his ears had been blocked, he hadn’t heard the sound of running.
“If I were that hooded guy and saw trouble brewing in someone else’s store, I’d be out of there faster than Mr. Smith!”
Just like on the first night of the first scenario—when he ran for his life, while the other players locked their doors at lightning speed.
The distance between them wasn’t far. Zhou Qi’an was certain that he hadn’t heard a single sound from the candy shop next door. A person reacting to tension or an emergency would definitely make some noise.
Realizing that there was a barrier between his current environment and reality, Zhou Qi’an immediately tried to wake up.
Things did not go as he wished. Soon, he experienced an unprecedented case of sleep paralysis—his entire body was frozen, with not a single joint able to move.
Meanwhile, in reality, a figure was silently approaching.
The young man, half-leaning on the counter, had his eyes tightly shut. His face was deathly pale, and more importantly, his breathing had become dangerously labored.
The hooded figure quietly observed his struggle between life and death, hesitating for a moment between killing and saving him before finally pulling out a piece of paper from his pocket.
Perhaps influenced by Zhou Qi’an’s habit of writing, the hooded figure also began to create.
A promissory note.
O owes O one life…
The first O referred to Zhou Qi’an. Since the hooded figure didn’t know his name, he simply sketched a chibi version of him—though his drawing skills were questionable. The second O was naturally the creditor, but since revealing his own name was inconvenient, he also replaced it with a chibi figure.
However, as he wrote this line, he suddenly stopped, as if recalling something.
A blurry figure surfaced in his memory—long ago, someone else had used a similar method to seal a contract.
His slender fingers unconsciously tightened around the paper. Then, he wrote the final line:
Willing to return [Little Alarm Clock] plus a three-star or higher item.
He grabbed Zhou Qi’an’s hand, about to press a fingerprint onto the note.
“Mm…”
The young man suddenly stirred, showing signs of waking up.
Beneath the heavy bangs and glasses, his face revealed a hint of pain—that strange feeling was back again.
The hooded figure quickly realized that now was not the time to look at his face but to determine which part of his body was waking up.
This guy was clearly trapped in a nightmare.
The most common way to escape was to focus on a single point, get some part of the body to move, and gradually regain full control before breaking through the dream.
His hands didn’t move.
His legs didn’t move.
The key part that moved was…
As soon as Zhou Qi’an woke up, he sprang up like a carp and swung a fist.
“Holy sh*t, pervert?!”
Finally regaining consciousness, he opened his eyes only to see some pervert staring at his crotch—who could tolerate that?
The hooded figure simply shifted a step to the side.
Zhou Qi’an frowned. He had clearly landed a heavy punch, yet it felt like hitting cotton.
“I was checking where you moved,” the hooded figure muttered through his mask, voice dull.
Zhou Qi’an was about to curse him out but suddenly realized something.
“It was my toes.”
Those were specially evolved toes—one day, they’d be able to dig out a whole villa! Starting from his toes, he gradually reclaimed control of his body.
Zhou Qi’an eyed him warily. “You seriously weren’t trying to sneak attack me?”
Just as he spoke, he noticed a small piece of paper on the table.
Pointing at the first chibi figure on it, he asked, “This maggot is…?”
“You.”
“…And this twisted braid thing?”
“Me.”
Finally understanding the note, Zhou Qi’an shoved it back with an indescribable expression.
The hooded figure made a throat-slitting gesture. “Saved you.”
Zhou Qi’an raised an eyebrow. “I see.”
So, after he took the Little Alarm Clock, this guy wanted to earn back double. Whether that meant saving people or killing them—it all depended on the situation. Or rather, on his mood.
Thanks to the hooded figure’s interruption, Zhou Qi’an belatedly turned his attention to the rice behind him. Seeing it still safely contained in the bin, he let out a breath of relief.
Outside, the sky had completely darkened. The fluorescent lights flickered on one by one in a steady rhythm.
Both men fell silent in unspoken understanding.
The unstable voltage made the lights flash erratically, casting an eerie glow over the cracked tiles. Between the dirty grout, traces of grayish-white powder were mixed in…
Zhou Qi’an suddenly lowered his head for a closer look, even reaching out to touch the tile crevices, his expression becoming unreadable.
“…By the way, how long was I asleep?”
His answer came in the form of an echoing chime.
DONG—
A single deep toll reverberated through the entire building.
It rang out twelve times, signaling the arrival of midnight.
As the last chime faded, the entire world seemed to be covered in a pale, eerie filter.
Many players moving inside the building simultaneously stopped in their tracks, their expressions growing solemn.
When the chimes finally ceased, Zhou Qi’an heard a system notification from the game.
【Side Quest Activated】
【Side Quest: Complete the Rice Shop Owner’s Request—Collect Rice (At Least Four Pounds Required).】
【Quest Reward: Old Photograph (Related to Main Story Clues).】
[Friendly Reminder: The more rice you collect, the higher the chance of triggering additional item rewards.】
After the quest was issued, Zhou Qi’an waited in the rice shop for a long time. He didn’t see a single person—or even a single ghost.
Bored, he glanced at the hooded figure. “You’re not going to do your quest?”
The stores mentioned by the monster passenger should all be capable of triggering main story-related quests. He had paid for the information, yet he was just sitting here wasting time with him?
The hooded figure didn’t answer.
After waiting a little longer, Zhou Qi’an suddenly stood up, realizing he had misunderstood something.
There were two ways to collect rice: one was to wait for people to come sell it, and the other was to go door-to-door. However, because the rice shop owner had emphasized guarding the store’s inventory before closing, Zhou Qi’an had subconsciously assumed he should only wait.
His gaze shifted to the dimmest-lit stores. Although they hadn’t been open during the day, there were piles of household trash outside, indicating that people lived there.
He decided not to wait any longer and left directly.
Seeing Zhou Qi’an leave so decisively, a flicker of surprise finally appeared in the hooded figure’s blood-red eyes.
Did he really not care if the store’s inventory got destroyed?
The hooded figure reached out and grasped his own shadow. “You go do the quest too.”
The shadow darted off like a swift fish, weaving through the air. Meanwhile, the hooded figure, seemingly afflicted with severe drowsiness, closed his eyes and fell into a deep sleep.
The shops lined both sides of the corridor, their varied and colorful signs giving the area a night-market feel.
Zhou Qi’an started knocking on doors one by one.
“Anyone home? I’m here to collect rice.”
The first house—no answer.
The second house—no answer.
When he knocked on the third, the door creaked open, revealing an elderly woman with a beaming smile and a hoarse voice.
“So the rice collector is here.”
She opened the door wide and invited Zhou Qi’an inside.
Zhou Qi’an studied her for two seconds. “You’re suspicious.”
“?”
He continued, “What kind of normal person opens their door to a stranger in the middle of the night?” As he spoke, he stepped inside. “Be more careful next time.”
The elderly woman’s fake smile froze.
When dealing with obviously suspicious NPCs, politeness was useless. Zhou Qi’an focused on observing the environment.
Lanterns hung everywhere inside the house, casting a crimson glow over the walls, giving off the same eerie atmosphere as a butcher shop.
The entryway directly faced an altar, upon which sat a framed portrait. The deceased looked quite young—barely in their early twenties.
The incense smoke from the altar drifted in a single direction, toward a small room beside it. In the corner of that room, a coffin rested quietly.
Its color was pale—even paler than white birch.
The lid wasn’t fully closed, and a faint chill seemed to seep from within.
The elderly woman pointed at a filthy scale, her voice mysterious.
“Come on, young man, step onto it.”
It was a common household body-fat scale, but some unknown sticky liquid clung to its surface, making it resemble the type of butcher’s scale used in wet markets.
“Hurry up! You need to be weighed before you can collect the rice.”
Seeing that Zhou Qi’an didn’t move, the elderly woman’s voice suddenly became sharp and urgent. “Hurry up!”
Zhou Qi’an remained where he was, staring at the altar with the memorial portrait. “Ma’am, your altar is crooked.”
He had suddenly become polite again. Squatting down slightly, he lifted one side of the cabinet with one hand to straighten it.
As he stood up, he dusted off his hands and glanced at the black garbage bags outside. “I’ll take the trash out for you too.”
Before he even finished speaking, he was already at the door. In the next instant, he nearly broke the sound barrier as he bolted out.
Behind him, the elderly woman’s face—withered and bark-like—was filled with cold malice.
Her murky eyes clearly tracked where Zhou Qi’an had run, but she didn’t stop him or chase after him. Instead, she just let out a chilling, eerie laugh.
If he wanted to collect rice, that shop assistant would have to come back.
Her laughter hadn’t even stopped when, to her shock, Zhou Qi’an reappeared in her line of sight—racing back at lightning speed after putting down the trash.
This time, he was even faster, flashing by like a streak of lightning.
The elderly woman’s sparse hair stood completely on end from the static electricity.
“……”
But Zhou Qi’an didn’t head toward the scale.
By the time the elderly woman reacted, he was already standing next to the coffin, casually beckoning her to bring the scale over.
Her vacant pupils widened slightly—she seemed to realize something.
First, he had shown his strength. Then, he had demonstrated his speed.
At this moment, the infuriating look on the young man’s face practically screamed:
Make a move, and I’ll grab your son’s body and run.
The coffin lid wasn’t even nailed shut—it wouldn’t be hard to snatch the corpse. And if it was too difficult to carry? He could just destroy it.
“!!!” Kidnapping the dead?! You monster!
Completely oblivious to the murderous glare she was giving him, Zhou Qi’an suddenly covered his mouth and dry-heaved.
“Ugh—s-sorry. I think I got sick from the garbage smell.”
If you don’t hurry up, I might just vomit on your son’s coffin.
His long, slender frame bent forward slowly, as if he was really about to throw up.
“Gag—”
“Shut up!”
The elderly woman, wearing cloth shoes far too small for her feet, zipped across the concrete floor like a blur, hurriedly carrying the scale over.
Hunched over, she placed it down—suddenly looking like a humble servant.
This time, Zhou Qi’an didn’t hold back. He stepped onto the scale without hesitation.
At the same time, one of his arms remained temptingly placed on the coffin lid, making it clear that he was ready to take a hostage and flee at any moment.
On the filthy scale, the blood-red digital numbers flickered for a moment before finally settling. However, due to the grime, Zhou Qi’an could only see the last few digits.
The furious elderly woman suddenly smiled again.
“You weigh about the same as my youngest son…”
Perhaps worried that Zhou Qi’an would continue hovering around the coffin, she didn’t make any further moves after saying this cryptic remark.
Having completed the weigh-in, Zhou Qi’an coldly asked, “Where’s the rice?”
The elderly woman cackled strangely for a while before finally replying, “No rush. My family doesn’t produce rice. To buy rice in bulk, you need to register. Do you have a photo? If not, go to Jin’s Photo Studio—just walk straight ahead, and you’ll see it.”
Zhou Qi’an stared at her for a few seconds.
“Oh?”
His tone carried a clear note of suspicion.
【Clue Obtained: A photo is required to collect rice. Please proceed to Jin’s Photo Studio.]
Only when the system notification appeared did he finally remove his hand from the coffin, looking somewhat reluctant.
“Well, I won’t bother you any longer, then.”
What kind of shop requires a photo just to collect rice?
Is it for making ID cards or something?
Before leaving, Zhou Qi’an politely closed the door behind him.
The elderly woman rushed to check the coffin in a panic.
As the door shut, the candlelight cast an eerie glow over the portrait on the altar.
Suddenly, the photo’s expression changed—its mouth slowly curled into a wicked smile, as if it had come to life.
Locking eyes with that terrifying grin, Zhou Qi’an turned back and swiftly grabbed all the offerings from the altar before leaving.
Portrait: ???
___
Leaving the old woman’s house, Zhou Qi’an began searching for the photo studio.
Jinxiang Building had been constructed a long time ago, and its design had many flaws. Most of the space had been allocated to shops, with open-air counters on the left side, leaving only a narrow path for pedestrians in the middle.
Ahead, the corridor-like passageway was almost completely blocked by a large round pillar, obscuring half of the signs of the shops behind it. The storefronts were not illuminated by any lights, but through the darkness, Zhou Qi’an could vaguely make out the words “Jin’s Photo Studio.”
“Welcome.”
A crisp voice suddenly rang out, making Zhou Qi’an shudder.
“You almost made me drop my offerings.”
“……”
Two hostesses stood in the darkness by the entrance, their faces so pale they were nearly featureless. They bowed low, their heads tilted downward, but their eyes remained wide open, rolling upward so only the whites were visible.
Seeing that Zhou Qi’an wasn’t moving, they bent even lower.
“Welcome.”
The two of them completely blocked the path.
This was definitely a shady business.
At that moment, Zhou Qi’an really missed his mom.
With their unwavering stares pinning him in place, he had no choice but to step inside.
As soon as he crossed the threshold, the two hostesses flanked him on either side, their grip firm and unwavering, almost as if they were restraining him.
They forced him into a chair.
Directly in front of him was a mirror.
Beyond the hostesses’ reflection, another face appeared in the glass—a stranger.
A man with curly hair.
He had somehow appeared behind Zhou Qi’an without a sound. His face had the texture of plaster, his features unnaturally defined.
Looking lower, Zhou Qi’an noticed an old-fashioned pair of scissors embedded in the man’s neck.
Judging by the tools, he was likely a barber.
One of the hostesses approached with a makeup case, smiling.
Zhou Qi’an hesitated. “Isn’t this a photo studio?”
With twisted fingers, the barber reached up, yanked the scissors from his throat, and grabbed Zhou Qi’an’s chin, turning his face to face the mirror.
“We are a professional photo studio.”
Next to the mirror was the shop’s promotional board:
- Professional photography, including makeup and styling.
- Express development—guaranteed to deliver your ideal photo within 20 minutes of entering.
- Jin Guoguo, the fruit shop owner, is strictly prohibited from entering.
The hostess had already begun applying foundation.
The powdery texture felt grainy on Zhou Qi’an’s skin, difficult to spread evenly. Suddenly, the pressure of her fingers increased, and she rasped out a jealous whisper:
“Your skin is so nice.”
“You too.” Zhou Qi’an responded, staring at her nearly featureless face. “Built-in skin-smoothing filter.”
In truth, she should’ve been complimenting his eyes.
Zhou Qi’an had already spotted several potential attack angles. As long as he summoned [White Silk], he’d have a chance to ensnare the monsters and buy himself an opportunity to escape.
As he subtly shifted his posture, his gaze flickered between the second and third points on the promotional board, as if hesitating over something.
But before he could dwell on it, the curly-haired man—who really was a barber—hurriedly draped a white cutting cape around his shoulders.
A beam of light suddenly illuminated the room.
Like a spotlight from above, it isolated Zhou Qi’an as the sole focus of the scene.
Under the shifting shadows, the barber’s silhouette began to merge with his client’s.
A sharp, searing pain tore through Zhou Qi’an, snapping him out of his daze.
The barber’s hands worked the scissors, barely trimming the ends of Zhou Qi’an’s hair—but in the mirror’s reflection, the image was completely different.
The scissors were plunging into flesh.
Deeper and deeper.
SNIP.
The first cut sent a jolt of agony through Zhou Qi’an, almost making him convulse.
It was an indescribable kind of pain.
For a moment, he nearly leaped out of the chair.
The barber’s eerie voice drifted down.
“Guest, don’t you want your photo?”
No photo meant no registration for rice collection.
Drenched in cold sweat, Zhou Qi’an forced himself to stay seated.
The barber resumed his work, mumbling bitterly:
“That fruit shop bastard! Always stealing my electricity—makes it so my sign never lights up properly…”
He poured all his hatred into the scissors.
Zhou Qi’an trembled from the pain but refused to acknowledge the rant.
Instead, after a long moment, he shuddered and forced out a response:
“Just so we’re clear, I’m not paying extra for hair dye.”
Hidden charges can go to hell.
After speaking, Zhou Qi’an trembled as he picked up an apple from the offerings and took a vicious bite.
His bold defiance made the barber’s gaze darken.
Outside the barbershop, the hooded figure stood in the shadows, unnoticed by the busy hostesses.
Zhou Qi’an saw him.
Under the dim lighting, the mirror reflected a vague, shadowy figure.
“Weird.”
This hooded figure felt different from before, like a ghost—without a physical form. His facial features were blurry, difficult to make out.
Zhou Qi’an’s instincts weren’t wrong. The figure observing him was actually the hooded figure’s shadow, which had passed by while out on its own task.
The shadow pulled out an IOU note and shook it lightly, as if asking: Do you need help?
In a way, Zhou Qi’an’s approach inside the barbershop was pretty dumb.
If he had simply gone along with the barber’s grudge against the fruit shop, he could’ve triggered a side quest, resolved it, and obtained the photo without much trouble.
But instead, he chose to tough it out.
Inside, Zhou Qi’an still had no intention of bringing up the barber’s grievances.
The pain was purely psychological—his body remained unharmed, as confirmed by the mirror. This situation wasn’t much different from when he was drowning in rice earlier. The only difference was that this time, he was fully conscious.
An ordinary person wouldn’t be able to endure it.
But he wasn’t ordinary.
Might as well treat it like pain tolerance training.
His earlier remark had clearly pissed off the barber, who deliberately slowed each snip of the scissors, dragging the dull blades across his skin just to savor Zhou Qi’an’s pained expression.
Zhou Qi’an never looked away from the mirror.
He slowly ate his apple, ignoring the cold sweat dripping down his face. His long eyelashes cast faint shadows over his pale cheeks.
Meanwhile, his other hand dug so hard into the chair’s rubber armrest that his nails nearly pierced through it.
It was unclear how much time passed, but eventually, the silent battle reached its end.
The barber finally finished styling the hair to his satisfaction.
Without hesitation, he stabbed the scissors back into his neck, plugging the bleeding wound.
Every haircut was a struggle for the barber.
And today, in order to torment Zhou Qi’an, he had let his wound bleed for far too long.
“Guest, you may proceed to the photography session now.”
Zhou Qi’an’s body was completely drained.
He couldn’t even stand up immediately.
The barber leaned down, his breath unnervingly cold against Zhou Qi’an’s skin.
“Guest, hurry up. The photographer has been waiting for a long time.”
Zhou Qi’an slowly lifted an arm—the only limb that had regained some strength.
His voice was weak, but clear.
“Let him wait.”
Then, he spat out an apple seed, casually removed his wig, and threw it in front of the barber.
The freshly styled hair—gone in an instant.
“You cut the wrong hair,” Zhou Qi’an said, his lips pale but his voice sharp and clear. “Do it again.”
The barber: “???”
“Cut.”
“……”
The small shop fell into dead silence.
Occasionally, sweat dripped from Zhou Qi’an’s slender neck, soaking into the stained barber cape.
For the first time, the barber was the one drenched in cold sweat.
The store had an official policy—customers must receive their desired photo within twenty minutes.
This rule was boldly displayed on the shop’s wall.
No way to argue against it.
Zhou Qi’an glanced at the time. At least fifteen minutes had already passed.
The barber’s expression soured as he looked at the discarded wig on the floor.
“You should’ve said something earlier.”
Zhou Qi’an remained calm. “How is that my problem?”
Despite being in so much pain that his words were unsteady, he still gracefully defended his consumer rights.
His trembling fingers reached for a second apple, replenishing his energy.
“If I don’t get my photo within twenty minutes, I’m entitled to compensation, right?”
The scissors in the barber’s neck turned an even deeper shade of red. Upon hearing the word compensation, a faint blood mist shrouded his entire body.
Zhou Qi’an slowly shifted his body, raising his chin slightly.
“Another minute just passed. If my math is right, you’ve got about two minutes left.”
The barber’s expression twisted, shifting between different shades of anger and restraint. In the end, he forced out a stiff, ugly smile.
“Guest, let’s talk this through.”
Zhou Qi’an extended his left hand.
Money. Pay up.
There was no need for pointless conversation.
Seeing that Zhou Qi’an was completely immune to persuasion but receptive to payments, the barber’s pallor darkened from plaster-white to ashen-blue. Gritting his teeth, he pulled out a stack of bloodstained ghost money from a drawer, squeezing out a brittle smile.
“This is your compensation for lost time.”
Zhou Qi’an extended his right hand.
The shadow by the door froze in place.
The barber was now visibly trembling with rage, his entire body shaking as the room’s temperature plummeted. The chill crept along Zhou Qi’an’s spine, drying the cold sweat on his skin. He coughed a few times but never retracted his hand.
A moment later, another stack of ghost money appeared in his right hand.
Zhou Qi’an sighed.
“I hate this.”
I hate that I don’t have more hands.
If only he had a thousand arms like the Thousand-Hand Guanyin, every single one would be filled with cash.
The clinking of coins interrupted his thoughts, the unmistakable metallic sound dispersing some of the cold air.
【Bloodstained Ghost Money: It’s said that anyone who touches it will be cursed with misfortune. However, it can be used for transactions in ghost markets.】
Misfortune?
Zhou Qi’an couldn’t care less.
He lifted his gaze, running his fingers over his first-ever night shift paycheck.
A mature employee must learn to pay themselves.
“Poverty is the only true misfortune.”
After a pause, he looked up at the barber, who was now grinding his teeth so hard he was close to shattering them.
Zhou Qi’an smiled.
This guy was the perfect example of what not to do in life.
Author’s Note:
Zhou Qi’an:
♫ How lonely it is to be invincible~ ♫
♫ Goodbye, Mom, I’m about to become invincible! ♫
Supervisor rushing over: ???
