The system’s notification sound continued:
[You have two options]
[Option 1: Listen to the security guard’s story from the past
Option 2: Ask the security guard two questions.]Note: The security guard has signed a confidentiality agreement with the school and has the right to refuse to answer confidential questions. A refused question still counts toward your total.
This was one more choice than the security guard had mentioned earlier, but of course, an adult had to go all in.
Anyway, the other winner was Bai Chanyi — they could just share information with each other later.
Bai Chanyi glanced at him and said, “Go ask.”
Zhou Qi’an cast a sideways glance in another direction, half-smiling.
“Scram.”
That was directed at the player who teamed up with Vikas. Just how thick-skinned did you have to be to eavesdrop here?
The player instinctively looked around. “I’m not the only one here.”
College student: “I’m with him.”
“……”
To be fair, it wasn’t entirely this player’s shamelessness — he had already released a surveillance tool when the security guard had read the results. While he drew attention, a nondescript beetle had crawled along the tile seam and was now near Zhou Qi’an.
This was a high-quality listening device.
Ordinary players wouldn’t be able to detect it.
Crunch—
Shen Zhiyi happened to step closer to Zhou Qi’an, and with one twist of his shoe, the beetle performed a live juice-splashing act.
Damn your ancestors!
The player flinched in visible pain, but didn’t dare show it.
Once the area was cleared, Shen Zhiyi said in a low voice, “Hurry up and ask.”
The three-legged race was also nearing its end.
Zhou Qi’an nodded and walked up to the security guard. The man was at least a head and a half taller than him, with a body like a mountain of meat — oppressively massive.
Under the man’s cold stare, Zhou Qi’an thought for a moment and asked, in a voice tinged with a student’s concern for the future, “Can you tell me what most of the former students ended up doing after graduation?”
A school is always founded with a purpose.
If you wanted to uncover the full story, this was a good entry point.
The security guard was silent for a few seconds. Through gritted teeth, he said three words: “Job placement guaranteed.”
The moment he said it, the system notification chimed:
[You’ve unlocked an additional 9% of the story background.]
[Current story background progress: 30%.]
Jumping from 21 to 30 meant he had asked the right question.
Zhou Qi’an mulled over those three words for a moment, trying to keep his expression neutral, and asked his second question, “What’s the most dangerous place on campus?”
This question was mostly to verify the information mentioned in the compensation clue.
Facing the guard’s suspicious gaze, Zhou Qi’an looked innocent. “I just arrived not long ago, and I’m worried about accidentally wandering into a restricted area.”
The security guard snorted coldly, “Restricted? Not restricted? The campus is a place to shape you into proper people.”
Clearly, this question was too confidential.
Zhou Qi’an wasn’t disappointed. He quickly followed up: “Is it the infirmary?”
Even though it lasted only a moment, the guard’s sudden change of expression told Zhou Qi’an everything he needed to know.
The guard was about to blow up!
Bai Chanyi walked over just in time and smoothly picked up the conversation, “Could you tell me about the school’s past?”
Zhou Qi’an quickly stepped aside.
After a single fitness test, five or six players had died.
The result of the three-legged race was somewhat unexpected. The winning pair wasn’t both players — it was Ying Yu and a limping girl.
Only now did Zhou Qi’an learn that pairings were decided by drawing lots — players could end up teamed with NPCs.
“The game mechanics are rigged.”
It meant they ate up one opportunity for players to make a choice.
Zhou Qi’an narrowed his eyes. “Ying Yu will definitely choose to ask questions. I’ll compare notes with him later and raise our story progress again.”
The security guard dragged out a black rubber hose from the lawn and started hosing down the bloodstains on the ground.
Some flesh had gotten stuck in the cracks of the cement and mixed with gravel — hard to look at. A few stray heads hadn’t been collected by the dorm manager, so the security guard grabbed them by the hair and casually tossed them into a trash bin.
After tidying up, he shouted loudly, “Class dismissed!”
·
Noon, Cafeteria.
A sign hung at the entrance: Due to a brawl among kitchen staff, today’s food supply is reduced due to staff shortage.
Bai Chanyi: “I get the feeling ever since you arrived, these temporary signs have been popping up more and more often.”
This morning, she heard someone say even the Exam God Statue had a “temporarily out of service” sign hung on it.
Zhou Qi’an chuckled awkwardly.
He thought silently: Those kitchen staff probably fought over ghost coins, ending up bashing each other’s heads in.
The coin-throwing incident that night was now coming back to bite him — poetic justice right between the brows of the one who started it all.
Food had already been scarce to begin with. Now, despite his rare good performance, Zhou Qi’an still got his benefits cut. In the end, each person received only three pieces of greens and two chunks of tofu, and a fist-sized bun that looked too small even for a baby.
There was free meat soup in the cafeteria — but most people didn’t dare drink it.
A tall, burly player seemed to be starving. Needing the calories, he took the risk and got himself a bowl halfway through the meal.
Seeing that he was fine, more people hesitated, wondering whether to try it.
A college student remembered Zhou Qi’an once said that if bodies were used as ingredients, they wouldn’t be sent to the Comprehensive Building — maybe the soup was actually safe?
Bai Chanyi warned, “Most of the meat in this instance contains trace amounts of poison. Best to avoid it if you can.”
Before she finished speaking, there came a crunch, crunch, crunch sound.
She looked up — Zhou Qi’an was drinking water.
Strange. Why would drinking water make that kind of noise? It sounded like he was chewing something.
But before she could ask, Zhou Qi’an had already walked off to find Ying Yu.
“Classmate Ying.”
Ying Yu, who was quietly eating, turned his head.
Zhou Qi’an walked over holding a thermos. “I’d like to make an exchange.”
Ying Yu always gave off a rather upright impression — even just sitting there, he radiated a composed calm. Zhou Qi’an couldn’t joke around with someone like him and got straight to the point.
It would’ve been rude to talk down to him, so Zhou Qi’an sat across from him, planning to wait until he finished eating.
He still had a few bites left himself.
Ying Yu: “You can just speak.”
Seeing how easygoing he was, Zhou Qi’an spoke while eating, “This one’s not a bug-breaking matter or anything.”
A yellow mushroom went into his mouth.
[Poison resistance +1]
[Darling, they still can’t poison you today.]
Zhou Qi’an ate happily. “I want to trade for the intel the security guard gave me.”
Another blue mushroom went into his mouth.
[Poison Resistance +1]
That’s right—his thermos cup was currently steeping the mushrooms he’d picked earlier. Now, a brightly colored speckled mushroom followed suit into his mouth. “What do you think?”
Ying Yu looked at him chewing on an assortment of poisonous mushrooms and fell silent for a moment. Then he asked, “If I say no, are you planning to die right here in front of me?”
“…”
Zhou Qi’an’s answer was: Of course not!
A person with ambition would never fake an accident.
Ying Yu said coolly, “What I asked was: where did the security guard study before? After I graduate, I want to become a guard too. What are the requirements?”
“Both questions are classified. The security guard refuses to answer.”
Zhou Qi’an paused, then suddenly clapped his hands and laughed. “What an exquisitely brilliant question.”
It sounded like it revealed nothing—but put together, those two questions were quite interesting.
The question itself was the answer.
Most schools wouldn’t understand even if the guard told them, unless… they’d heard of this school before, or had even been here.
Or maybe… they were standing in it.
Zhou Qi’an smiled as he shook his thermos, as if a long-standing confusion had just been cleared up.
Since he’d received help, he reciprocated generously and shared the question he had asked. On the way to the cafeteria earlier, Bai Chanyi had repeated a story the security guard once told. Zhou Qi’an now relayed it word for word:
“The students here are very motivated. They frequently prayed to the Exam God. Later, to help them study better, the school poured a lot of sponsorship money into the infirmary, and the infirmary successfully developed some pretty good supplements.”
“Students can apply for them through the dorm warden and collect them once per term.”
Clearly, this was another way to achieve top scores.
Ying Yu nodded slightly. “Got it.”
Then he looked at Zhou Qi’an. “You going to get the meds?”
“…What kind of question is that?”
Zhou Qi’an scoffed, clearly unimpressed. “Not taking them.”
He turned and walked away with his thermos in hand, clutching his chest a little dramatically, filled with sour emotions. No matter how good the medicine was, it likely only boosted memory—it wouldn’t help much with subjective essay questions.
The homeroom teacher’s favorability toward him was practically at rock bottom.
Bai Chanyi and the college student went to the dorm warden to apply for supplements. Back at the table, only Shen Zhiyi remained.
His refined air clashed with the noisy cafeteria. Though he had already finished eating, he still sat there, clearly waiting for someone.
Zhou Qi’an thought for a moment, then walked over and called softly, “Mr. Shen…”
I’ll give you my life.
Shen Zhiyi smiled warmly and looked up at him.
“Help me out, would you?” Zhou Qi’an lowered his voice and glanced around at the students still eating. His eyes finally landed on one person and he smirked. “Help me verify something…”
He slipped a communication device into Shen Zhiyi’s hand, whispered something, and left the cafeteria.
Standing at the entrance, Zhou Qi’an looked up at the sky on a whim and thought: I wonder how many letters reporting me have been stuffed into the complaint box by now.
·
The answer: still increasing.
After Zhou Qi’an won first place in the fitness test, more players went to report him. After all, if he suddenly surged ahead in the upcoming exams, wouldn’t he be stealing scholarship spots?
Two or three players approached Vikas, desperate, like they had no other way out.
Vikas, of course, understood their anxiety.
The first day being entirely multiple-choice was the most deceptive. Thanks to praying to the Exam God, most students had done exceptionally well. But the scholarship criteria clearly stated that except for a perfect score, your next test grade couldn’t drop.
Plenty of players had realized this.
For example, the two players who were pulled out for cheating during the exam—near the end, they used items.
Some items came with negative buffs—often resulting in bad luck.
Obviously, they were trying to control their scores. Taking the last few questions under a bad luck effect would offset the Exam God’s blessings, leaving some buffer for the next test.
But misfortune… sometimes it kills.
If Zhou Qi’an had been around, he’d probably be proud: See? I didn’t even try to cheat and I’m still the unluckiest.
During the test, the homeroom teacher was the first to come pick on him.
“You’re a spirit-sensitive, so you probably know more of the inside story than the rest of us,” one player pleaded. “If you help us this time, we’ll trade you items or points.”
The Exam God was out of commission, so they had to find other ways to clear the stage.
Vikas gave a meaningful smile. “Just do me a small favor.”
In the afternoon exam, Zhou Qi’an was almost certainly doomed. To be the first to grab the sacred artifact the moment it dropped, he’d need someone to provide cover—at the very least, to block Ying Yu.
After using the contract item, Vikas offered a lifeline:
“The fitness test has another function: it helps us distinguish students from players. These students have been at the school far longer than we have. Maybe some of them have clue-based missions.”
“Doing clue missions might reveal other high-scoring paths.”
He paused. “If that doesn’t work, we could hold a summoning ritual—to ask the dead former students.”
At that, the people around him suddenly lit up.
…
Thanks to the morning fitness test ending early, the players had a lot of free time.
All along the way, they complained about the Exam God statue cracking.
“When will it be fixed?” They were forced to keep blazing new trails.
Then again, even if it were whole, they might not dare pray to it. Who knew if the Exam God would ask for exorbitant payment?
By the afternoon, the weather had turned worse than the past two days.
Some players, just finishing their tasks, barely made it into the classroom on time. Under the pressure of the teacher’s gaze at the podium, they hurried to their seats.
When the bell rang, the homeroom teacher’s eyes sparkled with expectation, like her eyeballs might pop out: “The letters reporting someone for damaging public property—your teacher has read them all. I already have a good idea who did it.”
She smiled a creepy smile that made their skin crawl. “I will personally and thoroughly grade the essay questions today.”
As she spoke, her terrifying gaze snapped to one spot.
She looked toward it through the thunder and lightning—
But it was empty?!
The teacher froze.
A second later, her twisted smile turned into fury. “Where is he?!”
Where is he?!
Vikas and the other players also blinked. They had assumed Zhou Qi’an was just late from a mission. They hadn’t expected him to miss the exam entirely.
Someone muttered, “Don’t tell me… He’s trying to escape?”
Anyone could predict Zhou Qi’an would be dead last in this exam. Survival instinct was natural—but often suicidal.
Amid all the malicious speculation, the college student suddenly raised a hand and said weakly, “Reporting, teacher. He just went to the infirmary to do his work-study.”
Surprise? Delight?
Brother Zhou isn’t playing with you anymore.
The room fell briefly silent.
Upon hearing Zhou Qi’an had gone to the infirmary, the class president’s lips curled slightly. A strange glint flashed in her eyes.
She knew—her chance had finally come.
Most people were too shocked by the situation to notice her change in expression.
Just outside the classroom was a hallway, and through the windows one could see the general building.
Cold rain hit her face. Standing on the fourth floor, the homeroom teacher squinted through the wind and looked over.
At the entrance of the general building, a young man ran against the wind like a free bird flying inside—
Infirmary, here I come.
“!!!”
·
[Story World Exploration Progress: 44%]
Would you like a summary or character guide for easier reference?
This was the latest number after consolidating the information given by Bai Chanyi and Ying Yu.
“Class has already been going for a few minutes, and no death rule has descended—looks like my judgment was right.”
After working for so many years, his exam-taking ability had long been dulled.
Knowing he wasn’t cut out for this, Zhou Qi’an had once probed the situation. Back then, he’d given the excuse that his parents had disappeared because they went to the school infirmary.
Companion students, like players, had to attend classes and take exams.
After hearing that, not only did the homeroom teacher not press further, she even cut him off and tried to smooth things over—proving that this was a viable escape route.
In desperate situations, one could skip class under the pretext of going to the infirmary.
“I’m starting to like this kind of exploration-type instance,” he thought. The level of freedom was much higher.
Of course, there were pros and cons. Doing this completely cut off his path to the scholarship. While people had already figured out a lot about the exam rules, the infirmary remained shrouded in mystery.
It was obvious which one was more dangerous.
The mission panel gave him no time to rest, coldly issuing a new directive:
[Please arrive at the infirmary within three minutes, or it will be treated as skipping class and a disciplinary offense.]
The exterior of the comprehensive building looked like a dead fish’s head—and the inside felt like the guts of one. Even in daylight, it was eerie. The first floor held administrative offices—he wasn’t sure if there was anyone inside. According to the directory, the infirmary was on the fourth floor. Zhou Qi’an vividly remembered accidentally stepping on a real human eyeball there once.
It was too quiet. Every step he took echoed with the sound of his own breathing.
“No one else will likely come in for a while.”
The instance had only been running for two days. Most players with good early performance wouldn’t risk exploring so soon.
Which was just as well—he didn’t have to worry about being backstabbed.
The infirmary was clearly a major checkpoint. Clearing it would bring him a big step closer to unlocking the green escape route.
Zhou Qi’an headed up to the fourth floor alone. The countdown left him plenty of time; there was no need to run. Along the way, he didn’t see a single staff member. The fourth floor had even worse lighting—the lush treetops outside blocked what little sunlight there was.
Up ahead, a door was half-open.
As he approached, the chill from the tiles seeped through his shoes, making him feel very uncomfortable, like he desperately wanted to flee.
This ominous feeling made him hesitate before knocking.
[Countdown: One Minute]
Knowing full well what danger lay ahead, Zhou Qi’an had no choice but to push the door open.
The infirmary was quite spacious and looked very similar to the scene in his nightmare. The surgical table hadn’t been properly cleaned—dried bloodstains marred the metallic surfaces.
Heavy curtains blocked most of the light. Behind the desk lay a figure in surgical scrubs, face obscured.
From the haircut, it looked like a man.
His build was only slightly slimmer than the dorm supervisor’s, with a thick back—clearly sleeping.
Slack off at work?
I’m good at that.
[You have successfully arrived at the infirmary.]
[Note: This is a role-play mission. You have temporarily shed your student identity.]
A role-play mission?
Zhou Qi’an remembered that the student handbook mentioned the infirmary offered assistant positions.
[Now testing your qualifications to become the medical assistant.]
[Please answer the following question: According to the Medical Canon, the human brain is divided into…]
At the same time, a test sheet appeared on the desk.
Zhou Qi’an twitched a little. That book had been issued, but he hadn’t read it. To be fair, even if he had, he wouldn’t have remembered anything.
So… no loss.
“What is an open cranial injury?”
“Brain damage”.
“How much does an adult brain typically weigh in grams?”
“Two hundred and fifty.” (Note: “250” is slang in Chinese for “idiot.”)
…
After about ten questions, the system stopped asking.
There were no test restrictions aside from a no-cheating rule. Zhou Qi’an casually answered out loud while writing, as if he actually knew what he was talking about.
Across from him, the dozing school doctor seemed like he could no longer pretend to be asleep and looked ready to sit up and slap him.
Zhou Qi’an muttered into the air, “No one else is gonna come in to apply for work-study anytime soon.”
“My friend’s standing guard in the classroom to buy me time—anyone who tries to come in, he’ll chop their head off.”
This, like his test answers, was utter nonsense.
Too bad the school doctor didn’t know that.
He was visibly trembling with anger.
Zhou Qi’an gave him a disgusted glance—I didn’t even flinch in a place this creepy, and you’re the one shaking?
After finishing the test, Zhou Qi’an gave up on pretending. He walked over to the school doctor and whispered in his ear: “Pick me, pick me.”
Come on, choose me as your assistant.
The cold mechanical voice sounded:
[Test complete. You do not meet the qualifications to be the assistant.]
“…” Zhou Qi’an didn’t react much. He wasn’t worried—he didn’t believe the school doctor would really risk having no assistant.
About half a minute later, amid the suffocating atmosphere, the system chimed again:
[You have been selected as the medical assistant with the top interview score.]
__
Author’s Note:
Zhou Qi’an: You didn’t even open your eyes to look at me. How am I the top scorer in the interview?
School Doctor: …Shut up!
