“Alright, let’s take the photo.”
Zhou Qi’an knew when to stop. He adjusted his wig, braced himself against the wall, and spoke in a tone of magnanimous forgiveness.
His legs felt a little weak.
He glanced at the two etiquette attendants. “Come help me.”
The attendants, who had been so arrogant earlier, now forced stiff smiles as they begrudgingly supported this troublemaker, slowly escorting him toward the photo area.
Only a minute and a half remained. The photographer, unable to wait any longer, rushed forward with his equipment.
Click.
The flash came and went in an instant.
Zhou Qi’an kept his eyes open, his enhanced vision capturing the photographer’s seething resentment as the shutter clicked.
A shady shop had met an even shadier customer, and now that their mutual exploitation had reached its peak, the photographer looked like he wanted to rip out Zhou Qi’an’s heart to cover his losses.
The entire photo studio was in chaos.
At the front desk, an attendant hurriedly developed the photo. The process was lightning-fast: a 14-inch, black-and-white print. One of the etiquette attendants handed it over at record speed. “Here you go, sir. Safe travels.”
Zhou Qi’an stared at his own memorial portrait, feeling that it both resembled him and didn’t.
The longer he stared, the more unfamiliar it became—like a word repeated too many times until it lost all meaning.
【Clue obtained: Photograph.】
【Registration photo acquired. Please proceed to the rice shop to collect your rice.】
The barber appeared behind him once again. He was half a head taller than Zhou Qi’an, his gluey eyes fixed on the back of Zhou Qi’an’s head.
“Go to the shop at the very top. That’s where you’ll get your rice. But remember, the shopkeeper has a bad temper—once you get the rice, leave immediately.”
Zhou Qi’an tucked away the memorial photo and compensation money, then turned to leave.
“Good service. I’ll come again next time.”
His indifferent words lingered in the air.
Moments after he left, the barber’s dark expression eased slightly. He watched Zhou Qi’an’s retreating figure, then let out a sinister laugh. “Dare to mess with me? Just wait for your death.”
…
The man with the hoodie was as elusive as ever.
Zhou Qi’an hadn’t seen him when he exited the shop, but after walking only a few steps, the man with the hoodie reappeared several meters ahead, seemingly keeping a deliberate distance.
A crumpled piece of paper was tossed his way.
Zhou Qi’an swiftly turned and caught it the moment it was about to hit his shoulder.
Four words were scrawled on the note: “You are very strange.”
He could have triggered a side quest, but instead, he chose to stay and endure physical suffering.
Zhou Qi’an slowed his pace, keeping his gaze on the ground.
He found the man with the hoodie even stranger—why pass notes when they could just talk?
“It was an option, but not a necessity.”
He started counting on his fingers. “In a four-star dungeon, every side quest is dangerous. But by simply provoking the barber, I only had to endure some physical pain. I got what I needed without taking any real risks—why wouldn’t I choose that?”
Besides, the pain only caused minimal HP loss. It mainly worked on the nervous system, creating the sensation of pain rather than actual damage.
The shadow remained silent.
Zhou Qi’an thought the man with the hoodie had vanished again, but when he turned his head, another piece of paper nearly slapped against his forehead.
The message had changed:
“Party A saves Party B’s life. Party B works for Party A. All labor earnings belong to Party A.”
Zhou Qi’an’s brain automatically replaced “Party A” and “Party B” with himself and the man with the hoodie, though the note still featured the same little soul-drawn stick figures.
“You never saved me,” Zhou Qi’an said flatly.
The shadow remained silent, as if certain that Zhou Qi’an would eventually beg for help.
Zhou Qi’an didn’t understand where that confidence came from, but his attention quickly shifted elsewhere—the rice shop had come into view.
He took a few more steps forward, and an eerie feeling grew stronger.
“Something’s not right.”
One hand holding a memorial portrait, the other carrying offerings—why did it feel like he was attending his own funeral?
His gaze landed on the shop’s name: Jin Taotao’s Bone Rice Shop.
Finally, his eyes locked onto two particular characters: Bone Rice.
Bone rice. If taken literally, rice made from bones.
A realization struck him. His steps halted abruptly.
He put down the offerings, turned around, and ran.
The shadow didn’t follow. It simply watched as Zhou Qi’an’s figure disappeared into the darkness, silently calculating something.
Finally, it drifted back to the man with the hoodie’s feet and nudged him awake.
It took a moment before the man with the hoodie stirred.
The shadow gestured wildly, signaling that the side quest had been completed, then mimed everything that had happened at the barbershop.
The man with the hoodie listened, then let out a hoarse chuckle. “He’s got quite the mind.”
It had been a long time since he’d encountered someone this interesting.
—
Meanwhile.
Zhou Qi’an moved quickly.
As he passed the barbershop, he caught sight of the barber through the display window. Grinning, Zhou Qi’an patted his money pouch through the glass.
The barber’s face turned ashen.
Before he could react, Zhou Qi’an had already sprinted away.
Soon, he arrived back at the old woman’s house.
Earlier, when he had shut the door, he had done so with careful precision, ensuring it wasn’t fully latched. Now, without disturbing anyone, he slipped back inside.
The old woman was nowhere to be seen. Only the memorial portrait remained, silently watching the intruder.
The coffin lid was shut.
Taking advantage of the empty room, Zhou Qi’an rolled up his sleeves and began pushing the coffin outside.
Unlike before, the surface of the coffin felt soft and yielding, like a thin membrane.
A shiver ran down his spine. He gritted his teeth and continued pushing.
Fortunately, the coffin wasn’t too heavy—though the sensation of his fingers sinking into something fat-like was deeply unsettling.
“Where are you taking my son?”
It was the old woman’s voice.
Zhou Qi’an snapped to attention.
No one was in sight.
Where had the voice come from?
Lowering his gaze, he saw it—
A withered face was slowly emerging on the coffin lid. The stretched-out human skin distorted the old woman’s features, twisting her into something grotesque.
She tilted her head, grinning crookedly.
“Where are you taking my son?”
She had suffered once before.
Now, she would never leave her son’s side.
The surface of the coffin—wrapped in a layer of skin—was hers.
The thought that he had been pushing a coffin wrapped in human skin for an entire stretch of the road made Zhou Qi’an nauseous.
“Go to…” Zhou Qi’an took a careful step back. “Go to hell!”
Why were all the mothers he encountered so terrifying?!
He turned and bolted into the house.
Behind him, a blood-red sheet of human skin, still clinging to bits of flesh, chased him like a shadow.
It drifted closer and closer to his slender back, as if it wanted to merge with him completely—to wear his body as its own skin.
The raw, fleshy hide floated into the house.
The door to the inner room on the left was shut tight. The skin let out a chilling, mocking laugh, then squeezed itself effortlessly through the gap.
But just as it slipped inside—
A figure darted out from behind the outer door.
Zhou Qi’an sprinted for the exit at full speed.
At his current speed, he was a man who ran like the wind!
The hurried footsteps in the hallway sent a sharp realization through the skin-lady—she had been tricked.
Her face contorted into something even more monstrous.
“Time to make a lantern…”
Disrespectful children needed their skin stretched into lantern covers, their bones polished into lantern frames.
If she caught him, he would never live nor die in peace.
Zhou Qi’an steadied his breath and quickly checked the coffin.
Without the layer of human skin, the lid lifted easily.
A blast of icy air rushed at his face.
Inside, a frozen corpse lay motionless, its entire body coated in frost.
The man’s lips had rotted away, peeling back to reveal raw, red flesh beneath.
Ignoring the horrific sight, Zhou Qi’an hoisted the corpse onto his back and took off running.
In the dimly lit corridor, his footsteps echoed loudly.
Most of the shops on either side were closed, yet he felt countless unseen eyes watching him.
Then—
A warm light flickered to life behind him, stretching forward to illuminate his path.
Zhou Qi’an turned his head—
Dozens of lanterns floated densely behind him.
The firelight inside revealed the intricate network of human veins etched into their thin, delicate skin—
Every single one was a human-skin lantern.
From somewhere on an upper floor, a desperate cry for help drifted down.
This time of night, the entire building was riddled with danger.
Zhou Qi’an was far from the only desperate player running for his life.
Carrying a corpse severely slowed him down.
“Almost there.” Zhou Qi’an pushed himself forward.
But the corpse was getting heavier.
The loose, lifeless arms that had been dangling at its sides had, at some point, silently wrapped around Zhou Qi’an’s neck.
Slowly—they tightened.
“Tch…”
Zhou Qi’an let out a cold scoff, as if he had expected this all along.
He didn’t waste his strength struggling.
Instead, he rushed toward a nearby crossbeam.
A white silk ribbon shot out ahead of him, wrapping itself tightly around the beam—fulfilling its duty of hanging people.
As Zhou Qi’an dashed under it, he dropped into a sudden roll.
The corpse was yanked into the air, left dangling midair.
【Your fishing-silk noose is very pleased. It has finally caught its first prey.】
Zhou Qi’an coughed a few times, glaring at the suspended corpse.
“You dare try to strangle me?”
The human-skin lanterns were catching up fast.
Zhou Qi’an was ruthless and decisive—without hesitation, he snapped the corpse’s arms in half.
His enhanced strength made it effortless.
His voice was cold and threatening. “Try strangling me again, and I’ll break your damn head off.”
Then, without looking back, he threw the corpse over his shoulder and kept running.
Close.
He could already see the end of the floor.
After breaking the corpse’s arms, the weight on his back lightened slightly. Zhou Qi’an took advantage of the moment, running even faster—faster than a rabbit.
Finally, he sprinted straight into the shop at the end of the hall!
Inside, a single shopkeeper stood, clad in a sterilization suit. Thick white rope-knit gloves covered his hands, the fabric darkened with old bloodstains.
Zhou Qi’an steadied his breath and cautiously stepped inside.
“Welcome.”
The shopkeeper’s voice was muffled by his mask, making it impossible to read his expression.
His every movement was stiff and mechanical as he silently handed over a registration book.
Zhou Qi’an hesitated for a moment before placing his recently taken photograph onto the page.
As soon as the photo touched the paper, it merged seamlessly into it.
At the top of the now black-and-white image, blood-red text appeared:
【Registration successful (Materials provided).】
The shopkeeper closed the book and suddenly stepped toward Zhou Qi’an.
Zhou Qi’an instinctively took a step back.
“Give it to me.”
But the shopkeeper’s chilling gaze wasn’t directed at him.
Zhou Qi’an quickly handed over the corpse.
Without hesitation, the shopkeeper wheeled the frozen body toward a rust-covered furnace.
Zhou Qi’an exhaled in relief.
Had he blindly rushed in to collect the rice without a corpse, he would have probably ended up as the raw material himself.
After all, the memorial portrait had already been taken.
Not dying at this point would have been downright impolite.
As he waited, Zhou Qi’an glanced at the floor.
Between the tiles, strange white fragments were embedded.
The tiles’ color closely resembled the rice sold in the shop.
Which meant… it was likely made from ashes.
His throat bobbed.
How deep did this hatred run?
They had paved the floor with their enemies’ ashes, so that even in death, they would be endlessly trampled upon.
The furnace door swung open.
Zhou Qi’an instinctively took a step back as a wave of heat and stench surged forward.
The shopkeeper efficiently placed the corpse into a metal box, slid it along a track, and pushed it into the flames.
The furnace crackled and popped loudly.
Even through the thick metal door, Zhou Qi’an could imagine the scene—
Skin and fat, burning away in sheets.
Soon after, the shopkeeper used a metal hook to retrieve the charred remains and dumped them into a bone-grinding machine.
A new mechanical roar filled the room.
The shopkeeper worked swiftly, but his eyes never left Zhou Qi’an.
The ground-up bones were mixed with other ashes before being poured into a strange machine.
From its opening, grayish rice grains began to spill out.
Bone rice.
Every grain was collected into a ceramic jar.
The shopkeeper approached Zhou Qi’an.
With him came the thick stench of burnt flesh.
Even with his mask on, Zhou Qi’an could tell—the shopkeeper was smiling.
“Your order is complete.”
A label was pasted on the ceramic jar:
【Jin Tianfu, 4 jin.】
Zhou Qi’an swallowed hard and took the jar.
The moment it touched his hands, a mechanical voice echoed in his mind:
【Congratulations! You have obtained (Jin Taotao’s Bone Rice) 1】
【Jin Taotao’s Bone Rice:
Made from fresh corpses, recipient of the XX-year Green & Pollution-Free Award.】【Weight: 4 jin】
【Shelf Life: 36 months】【Would you like to submit the bone rice and complete the mission?】
【Mission completion will grant you a clue reward.】
“No.”
【…】
The system visibly glitched.
Zhou Qi’an smirked.
Since when had the prompt voice ever been this thoughtful, even reminding him about the reward?
“Thanks.” He nodded at the shopkeeper, taking the jar and moving as if preparing to leave—
But slowly.
As he passed the heavy machinery, his gaze swept across the wall.
Then—
His grip on the jar tightened.
Something clicked in his mind.
His expression turned peculiar.
The shopkeeper, noticing his hesitation, asked,
“Sir, do you require anything else?”
Zhou Qi’an opened his panel while shaking his head. “Nothing else.”
Pa!
A sound made the sterilization-suit shopkeeper turn around—the registration book had fallen to the ground.
Taking advantage of the distraction, Zhou Qi’an used his white silk ribbon to nudge the book off the counter, then swiftly moved toward the wall.
There, a red banner hung.
Its surface was stained with strange, greasy marks, making the words almost unreadable.
“Short… Weight…”
Zhou Qi’an squinted, trying to decipher it.
Finally, he could make it out—
“Shortweight Shop.”
“…”
So this was what had been bothering him.
Everything about the bone rice description had been a lie.
The bodies had been frozen for ages—how could they be called fresh?
Damn it.
This whole place was a scam!
Suddenly, a chill crept up his spine.
An indescribable, bone-deep cold.
For a moment, it felt like his legs had been welded to the floor.
The freezing sensation spread through his veins, solidifying his blood.
His eyes sharpened.
With all his strength, he ripped the red banner from the wall and flung it backward!
The cloth slapped over the shopkeeper’s head.
Zhou Qi’an bolted!
“Damn barber.”
Zhou Qi’an gritted his teeth.
That guy had warned him about the shopkeeper’s bad temper, urging him to take the rice and leave.
And the system voice—it was no better.
If he had handed in this shortweight rice, the system would’ve marked the mission as a failure.
Not long after he rushed outside, he skidded to a halt.
The human-skin old woman stood not far behind him.
Her flesh had regenerated somewhat, and in her hand, she gripped a paper cutter.
Above her, countless lanterns floated in the air, their flickering light illuminating her twisted face.
“My son… Where is my son?”
Behind him, the shopkeeper emerged from the store, still clutching his iron hook.
Zhou Qi’an didn’t hesitate.
He turned and sprinted in the opposite direction.
The floor was a perfect square, yet it felt like the layers were shifting.
For several brief moments, Zhou Qi’an felt like he had stepped off a staircase in a dream—his stomach twisted with that horrible, gut-wrenching feeling of falling.
And then—
When he looked down—
His face darkened.
The tiles beneath his feet were covered in countless greenish human faces.
He didn’t run blindly.
His eyes constantly scanned the walls and signs, clearly searching for something.
If there was a banner warning about shortweight goods, then there had to be some form of oversight.
This mall must have a place to report complaints.
After circling nearly the entire floor, he finally spotted a lone service desk at a corner.
On the desk, there was only a small notebook and a red telephone.
Beneath the desk, an easily overlooked sign read:
“For complaints and reports, dial 400-XXX.”
Zhou Qi’an stopped running.
Quickly dialing the number, he pressed speakerphone.
At the same time, he lifted the ceramic jar high into the air.
“Your son’s in this jar.”
“That sterilization-suit guy burned him.”
His voice was utterly devoid of sympathy.
“Take another step forward, and I’ll smash the jar off the balcony—let his ashes scatter a second time.”
Zhou Qi’an felt no sympathy.
In this dungeon, love and hatred always had causal links. Who knew what these people had done in their lifetimes to provoke such vengeful spirits?
The human-skin old woman glared at Zhou Qi’an with pure hatred.
But she didn’t dare act rashly—not with the jar in his hand.
Her obsessive, motherly love compelled her to ‘carry’ her son’s corpse once more, even in death.
Faced with Zhou Qi’an’s threat, she could only grit her teeth and hold back.
But her rage turned toward the sterilization-suit shopkeeper.
“You burned my son…”
“You helped that woman—you will both die terrible deaths!”
Zhou Qi’an raised an eyebrow.
So, even the shopkeepers didn’t get along.
“That woman.”
A key clue. He’d have to dig into her identity later.
“Hello?”
A raspy voice came from the receiver.
Zhou Qi’an spoke swiftly: “I’m reporting Jin Taotao’s Bone Rice Shop for shorting customers on weight.”
“Thank you for your report. Jinxing Plaza strictly punishes black-market shops.”
The voice was familiar.
It was the conjoined old women.
They giggled eerily.
“We’ll handle it for you right away.”
Even through the phone, a wave of foul stench rushed at him—like a corpse whispering right against his face.
From the moment the call connected, the sterilization-suit shopkeeper had gone completely still.
He simply watched Zhou Qi’an.
The unnatural lantern-light cast eerie shadows over his head.
Beneath his mask, his smile seemed to stretch even wider.
The human-skin old woman also grinned.
The floating lanterns suddenly dispersed in all directions.
Zhou Qi’an didn’t linger.
He slammed the phone down and ran.
Neither the old woman nor the shopkeeper chased him.
Instead, they knocked on the doors of neighboring shops.
Muffled laughter overlapped in the air.
On the bone-ash-tiled floor, the distorted faces twitched and warped.
—
Zhou Qi’an made his way back to Jin Ji’s Rice Shop.
The man with the hoodie was nearby, half-lidded eyes dozing off.
Seeing Zhou Qi’an gasping for breath, he sounded slightly disappointed.
“I thought you’d be smarter than this.”
The shopkeepers were like regular business owners—sometimes they were at odds, but at crucial moments, they stuck together.
For example, whenever inspections were about to happen, they always warned each other in advance.
Dialing the report line had alarmed all the shops within three floors.
Sure enough—
Wherever the human-skin lanterns floated, previously shut doors began creaking open.
“Scale check, inventory check—”
The lanterns cackled, spreading the message.
As more shopkeepers awoke, Zhou Qi’an’s chances of finding another corpse to balance out the missing weight became nearly impossible.
At the same time, more monsters were reviving.
“My son… Find my son.”
The old woman no longer seemed anxious.
She was using favors to persuade the other shopkeepers to capture the thief who had stolen her son.
She herself wandered the halls, dragging an oversized paper cutter.
“What pattern should I carve you into?”
Her eerie wails and screeches echoed through the plaza.
—
The man with the hoodie spoke.
“Your troubles are just beginning.”
Product quality issues fell under the mall’s administrator.
But the conjoined old women had their eyes on something in Zhou Qi’an’s body.
When they arrived, the real nightmare would begin.
The air grew thicker with rot.
Shadows flickered.
The fluorescent lights buzzed, intermittently dimming.
Zhou Qi’an hid under a counter, cautiously peeking out—his gaze searching for a temporary hiding spot.
Then, he raised a hand.
A familiar gesture—”Five.”
Five minutes.
“I’ll settle this in five minutes.”
The man with the hoodie sighed.
“You think you still have time?”
Someone would help him divert the monsters’ attention, buying him precious golden time.
The moment the words fell, the elevator doors suddenly slid open—
In the dim night, the soft ding was alarmingly loud.
But the ones stepping out weren’t the administrators.
Instead, it was two young players.
The Origami Boy strode out confidently, followed by the MP3 Player Guy, who still had his headphones in.
After 1 AM, the danger level on their floor had gradually escalated.
Just as they had predicted—choosing the wrong shop meant greater dangers at night.
Following their original plan, the two had decided to switch floors and sabotage the rice shop, hoping to vacate a staff position.
Origami Boy: “It’s much safer here now.”
His smile froze the moment he looked up.
As the elevator doors chimed open, all the floating human-skin lanterns in the distance immediately turned their light toward them—
Like a massive spotlight, illuminating them for all to see.
They had just become moving targets.
The old woman, dragging her paper cutter, began approaching the elevator doors.
The sterilization-suit shopkeeper was also silently closing in.
From a half-open shutter, a little girl clutching a cleaver stepped out—
And from the ceiling above, corpse fluid dripped steadily onto the floor.
MP3 Player Guy’s heart nearly stopped.
“Did we… take the wrong floor?”
Origami Boy didn’t answer.
His fingers were furiously jabbing the ‘Close Door’ button, moving so fast that afterimages appeared.
But the elevator doors refused to close.
And then—
A sound.
Not from the doors.
But from above the elevator cab.
At some point, the panel on the ceiling had opened.
And there—dangling upside down—
Were the two conjoined old women.
Both of their heads hung directly in front of the players, their administrator ID badges swaying ominously.
“Just now… were you the ones who made the report?”
“!!!”
—
Author’s Note:
Zhou Qi’an:
“A ladybug has come from afar—how delightful.”
