The fog was thinning rapidly, and the bus stop they had seen before entering was now faintly visible.
Zhou Qi’an only wanted one thing right now: a good night’s sleep.
“Go home?”
He pushed that thought away. Who knew what he might find when he walked through the door—maybe a mummified bride waiting inside.
He still hadn’t completed the mission entrusted by his dear mother. He didn’t have time to wait around for Mr. Si to finish messing with the oil, but before the biogas explosion, he had made sure to pass the task onto the college student.
Now all he could do was wait for the latter to return in triumph.
“Let’s hope he doesn’t screw it up.”
With Shen Zhiyi and Bai Chanyi helping out during the physical tests, there were only a few exams left. If even with that kind of support he still couldn’t make it out alive, then there was really nothing more to say.
Not even the gods could save him.
Zhou Qi’an remembered something. He fished around in his pocket and pulled out an envelope that had fallen from his backpack at the last second.
“What’s this?”
He thought it was just another item from the game, but when he opened it, he found a small card and a key inside.
On the card was an address, and at the bottom it read: Qi’an, come rest at my place.
Zhou Qi’an immediately understood—it was Shen Zhiyi’s little trick.
Just like him, Shen Zhiyi was a certified academic underachiever, yet he had surprisingly neat and proper handwriting.
“Doesn’t seem like I’ve got anywhere else to go either.” Zhou Qi’an tilted his head back, looking at the misty sky.
First of all, he had to avoid his mom. Second, there was always the risk of players targeting him for sacred artifacts. Going somewhere else was probably safer.
Conveniently, there was a bus that could take him to the address on the card: the city center.
This time, players had been forced into school uniforms for the instance. Upon exiting, they were automatically back in normal clothes, avoiding the attention that had followed them the previous two times when they’d emerged covered in blood.
Forty minutes later, Zhou Qi’an stood in front of a mansion.
He raised his eyebrows. Shen Zhiyi moved again?!
From what he remembered, there was no such mansion in the city center. The architecture was so distinct, yet passersby walked past it as if it didn’t exist. No one gave it a second glance.
Maybe it was because he had the key that Zhou Qi’an could see things others couldn’t.
His throat bobbed. This was seriously weird.
Worried that lingering too long would draw attention, Zhou Qi’an walked straight up to the house and opened the door.
Once the heavy door shut behind him, all the traffic noise from outside vanished completely.
On a marble table, fresh flowers were arranged in a clear glass vase, vibrant and lush.
It seemed like they had just been placed there on the day they entered the instance. Judging by their full bloom, they had been mere buds back then. Two days had passed, and now they were in perfect form.
There were semi-prepared dishes in the fridge, just needing a bit of finishing up.
“Is there even a single normal person left around me?”
This meticulous care made him shiver.
He hadn’t had a proper meal in days. Zhou Qi’an started by eating a little, then, feeling a bit better, found the bathroom. He discovered clean bathrobes and pajamas, all ready for use.
The size clearly matched his.
A brand-new pair of underwear even fell out.
“…”
Any flicker of emotion he had was instantly cut off.
Even though he wanted to think more about this strange mansion and how Shen Zhiyi’s abilities were clearly different from the other two, Zhou Qi’an was simply too exhausted.
He soaked in the tub, then went straight to bed in his bathrobe, his head sinking into the soft pillow, and fell asleep just like that.
He slept all the way into the next day.
This instance had been a short one. According to his superior’s travel schedule, he had a few free days left to enjoy.
He hadn’t closed the curtains before bed. Now, the morning sun rose gently outside, the breeze blew softly, and the world seemed beautiful—except for—
Thud, thud, thud; thud, thud, thud.
A sound of chopping meat echoed from inside the villa.
It was rapid and rhythmic, slightly disturbing.
Zhou Qi’an stared at the ceiling for a while, then guessed Shen Zhiyi must be back.
He got up, ready to thank him and head out.
Just as he passed through the living room, Shen Zhiyi came out of the kitchen.
The latter wore light-colored loungewear, looking calm and collected. In his hands was a dry pot full of sizzling shrimp, the oil bubbling and hissing.
Zhou Qi’an stared intently at the seafood.
After two seconds of internal struggle, his body made the decision for him—he went to freshen up, then sat down honestly at the table.
He could say goodbye after the meal.
In the real world, the two silently avoided talking about the game. Shen Zhiyi had clearly used a special route to come back; there was no point asking him about anyone else’s survival.
Zhou Qi’an quietly did the math.
Time in the instance passed faster than in reality. There were ten subjects in total, and only a few exams remained.
The surviving players should be out by tomorrow or the day after at the latest.
“Why’d you move to the city center?” Zhou Qi’an asked casually.
Shen Zhiyi didn’t answer right away. He simply smiled.
After the meal, he walked over to the window. Outside the tall, transparent glass was a world that had once held a long and rich civilization—this era was about to end.
“A new age is coming.”
That statement held vast implications and wasn’t strictly about the game.
“Qi’an,” Shen Zhiyi looked out as the sunlight caught every struggling speck of dust in the air, “take a good look at the last flames of humanity.”
·
One meal turned into another, and then only two days remained.
During that time, Zhou Qi’an was mainly waiting on the gasoline, waiting for the college student to return with the goods. That way he could win a smile from his mother and maybe drag out a few more days of easy living.
Finally, good news arrived!
By the next evening, Zhou Qi’an received a call from the college student. The exhaustion in his voice was impossible to hide: “I’ve got the stuff, Brother Zhou. Where are you staying? I’ll drop it off.”
There were some things better left unsaid over the phone—for example, how Mr. Si had straight-up stolen the school bus’s fuel, leaving them stranded halfway and forcing them to walk back through a tunnel.
They had nearly died doing it!
“Go get some rest first. I’ll contact you later.”
In his current state, asking him to haul heavy items back and forth again might just kill him.
Zhou Qi’an had just set his phone down when it rang again.
“What now…”
“Student Zhou.” A calm and firm voice came through the line.
The use of his in-instance title caught Zhou Qi’an off guard. He froze, then narrowed his eyes and leaned back against the couch.
“Mr. Ying.” He replied politely.
He wasn’t surprised that Ying Yu had made it out alive—it would’ve been far more surprising if he hadn’t.
As always, Ying Yu was direct: “I need you to come somewhere.”
It wasn’t a request—it sounded more like an order.
Zhou Qi’an paused, then said steadily, “If Mr. Ying wants to do research, I’ll pick the place. Come alone.”
He had already agreed to cooperate with the research on the sacred artifact, so naturally, he wouldn’t go back on his word—but there was no way he’d set foot on the other party’s turf. The uncertainties were too great.
There was silence on the other end.
Zhou Qi’an deliberately turned up the volume of the TV, using it as a way to hint that if Ying Yu didn’t make a decision soon, he should hang up.
This was also a subtle test.
Ying Yu had an official background. Since the man had managed to get his number, would he go a step further and show up in person?
After a while, the man’s voice returned. “Don’t misunderstand. Your mother was arrested for grave robbing.”
Zhou Qi’an’s eyes instantly turned sharp.
Ying Yu said calmly, “Some things can’t be overlooked. There’s no way to turn a blind eye.”
Zhou Qi’an gripped the remote tightly.
Shen Zhiyi noticed the change in his mood and looked over, mouthing: “Trouble?”
If there’s trouble… then it needed to be dealt with.
And the best way to deal with trouble was to make sure it vanished before it grew.
To Shen Zhiyi, the word vanish was key.
The living room fell into silence. No one spoke for a moment.
Was Ying Yu using his family to threaten him?
Zhou Qi’an frowned. That didn’t quite seem like his style. Or… had his mother’s strange behavior caught official attention?
If he had attracted their notice, it wasn’t impossible that they had started investigating the people around him.
On the TV, the news anchor was reporting with precise enunciation: “…On the third day of the mysterious tomb cluster excavation, archaeologists awoke to find that the site, originally with only two entrances, had mysteriously gained eighty-one holes overnight…”
Zhou Qi’an and Shen Zhiyi were both stunned.
Ei–eighty-one?!
Zhou Qi’an seemed to realize something and went completely black in the face.
He could almost be certain who was responsible for this “brilliant idea.”
At this moment, Zhou Qi’an finally understood why Ying Yu had said that turning a blind eye wasn’t an option.
Eighty-one holes! You’d have to be blind not to notice them, okay?!
After a brief exchange over the phone, Zhou Qi’an put on his coat and stormed out with a gloomy expression.
Shen Zhiyi asked, “Where are you going?”
Zhou Qi’an turned his head and replied coldly, “To the station. Picking up my mom.”
“……”
———
After learning that Zhou Qi’an was near the city center, Ying Yu told him to wait near the department store.
In less than ten minutes, a black modified car pulled up at the roadside.
The door opened automatically. The interior was spacious, but the seats were unusually hard. Zhou Qi’an didn’t notice, and when he sat down, it jabbed him painfully.
When Shen Zhiyi got in, the driver instinctively tried to stop him.
But the moment he opened his mouth, he was shocked to find his tongue had gone numb—he couldn’t even feel it. The well-trained driver panicked, searching for his tongue inside his mouth until Shen Zhiyi sat down and sensation returned.
The driver took several deep breaths, his hands on the steering wheel soaked with sweat.
Aside from the driver, only Ying Yu was in the car.
Unlike university students who didn’t even have the energy to speak, Ying Yu was neatly dressed. Behind his glasses were cold eyes, still full of vitality.
He gave the two a slight nod.
Zhou Qi’an asked, “My mom…”
“No harm came to the archaeologists, the evacuation personnel are fine, and the public is safe,” Ying Yu replied calmly.
“……”
Zhou Qi’an had actually been asking if his mom was okay, but after hearing Ying Yu’s response, he swallowed the rest of the words.
“Strictly speaking, it’s not really a tomb cluster, so it doesn’t count as grave robbing.”
Zhou Qi’an rubbed his temples. Whether it was technically tomb robbing or not, he’d still run into the worst kind of bad luck.
Ying Yu didn’t elaborate on the matter in the car, and the rest of the trip was spent in silence.
As they left the noisy city behind, the vehicle drove deeper into a fog. The driver somehow maintained clear vision and didn’t slow down at all.
Only then did Zhou Qi’an ask, “Is Bai Chanyi still alive?”
Ying Yu replied, “Very few came out. She’s one of them.”
Clang, clang.
The car jolted, interrupting their conversation, then continued forward as if riding on tracks. The sound of tires scraping metal echoed nonstop.
Zhou Qi’an had opened a small gap in the window earlier, and now clearly felt the wind had shifted. Even the ambient noise sounded off.
It was as if the car had entered some kind of tunnel.
When the clanging finally stopped and the modified vehicle came to a halt, Ying Yu handed over a pair of goggles.
They weren’t strictly necessary—but they made things easier to see.
There was a faint metallic smell in the mist. Zhou Qi’an suddenly remembered something Red Cloak had said: the experimental base of the Hidden House had been built only after they figured out how to trap and study the fog.
He was the first to get out of the car. As he instinctively looked up, his eyes widened in surprise.
In front of him stood countless glass cubes. The transparent panels refracted sharp beams of light. Inside each cube were massive, unfamiliar instruments. The hum of machinery was sealed away in separate spaces.
Even the floor beneath them wasn’t ordinary tile—it was some kind of strange crystal structure, casting distorted, blurry reflections of the people standing above.
Inside the cubes, many people in lab coats moved around—everyone dressed uniformly in white, enough to make Zhou Qi’an’s eyes spin.
And yet, this was only the tip of the iceberg.
Ying Yu didn’t lead them any deeper. Instead, he brought them to a single room with a hardcore layout.
Truly hardcore.
All four walls were made of metal.
Ying Yu sat upright, but not stiffly. Once Zhou Qi’an took his seat, Ying Yu’s pale-colored pupils looked over at him and said slowly, “Of all the newcomers I’ve seen, you are the most unique—and the most intelligent.”
The room was filled with fog too. The overexposed whiteness it created was almost like a shadow.
In the mist, the expressions of all three were hard to read.
But there was genuine appreciation in Ying Yu’s eyes. He rarely praised anyone:
“…Boldness is a necessary trait for surviving instances. Unfortunately, too much boldness turns into arrogance. Take that idiot Sacks, for example.”
Shen Zhiyi corrected mildly, “It’s Vikas.”
Zhou Qi’an’s eyelid twitched.
Now he was sure they were doing this on purpose. Never mind Shen Zhiyi, someone as sharp as Ying Yu wouldn’t misremember a name like that.
He rubbed his temples again, waiting to hear the real reason they were here.
He thought it would be about the sacred artifacts—but the next thing Ying Yu said made Zhou Qi’an freeze.
Ying Yu said, “I have no interest in individual variables.”
In other words, variables like sacred artifacts, his mother, or even Shen Zhiyi.
Zhou Qi’an didn’t relax at this statement—he actually grew more alert, narrowing his eyes.
If Ying Yu wasn’t interested in that, then what did he want from him?
But Shen Zhiyi seemed to have already guessed, looking around the environment with intrigue.
There was a table in front of them that was easy to miss. Ying Yu placed one hand on its edge and asked, “In the last instance, what left the deepest impression on you?”
Zhou Qi’an answered almost without hesitation: “The design involving family members.”
Some players, desperate enough, tried to manipulate the rules to bring their loved ones into the instance.
For ordinary people with no game account, this was their only option when backed into a corner.
Ying Yu nodded. “If the world were ending tomorrow, how to spend the final night should be a choice everyone is allowed to make.”
Clearly, most people today didn’t have that choice.
The bloodstained, heavy door of the game had already, without notice, separated evolvers from ordinary people.
Ying Yu suddenly changed the subject: “That’s why what I need more is your identity—your ‘access card’.”
“?”
“When players enter an instance, it’s like opening an unknown door.”
Ying Yu looked at him. “As a Sacred Artifact holder, there may be additional factors at play. The instances you enter are likely more unusual than most.”
Zhou Qi’an didn’t deny it.
His first instance had a Sacred Artifact hidden in a mountain villa, the second let him encounter various kinds of ghosts, and the third took him straight to a hatching facility.
“The more unique the background of the instance, the more novel the materials inside,” Ying Yu said. “In the last instance, I found some very interesting things. If the danger level hadn’t been so high, I’d have wanted to see that so-called pod for myself.”
There was a hint of regret in his tone.
Zhou Qi’an’s mouth twitched. He highlighted the key point: “So basically, you just want to team up with me and use my access card to open different doors?”
Ying Yu didn’t deny that either.
Zhou Qi’an frowned slightly and couldn’t help but ask, “Pardon me for asking, but what’s the point of doing that?”
If it’s just about getting powerful items, entering instances would be far more efficient than doing research.
At that, Ying Yu raised an eyebrow but didn’t answer immediately.
Instead, it was Shen Zhiyi who spoke. Beneath his indifferent brows, his pale grey eyes held a trace of amusement. “He’s trying to balance the average stats.”
Ying Yu looked over at him.
In just a few words, this man had pinpointed the core of the Hidden House Project.
Shen Zhiyi let himself be scrutinized, still sitting in a relaxed posture, like an abyss untouched by any light.
But the next second, this seemingly immovable “Buddha on the ground” got pushed.
Zhou Qi’an frankly voiced his confusion: “Stop speaking in riddles.”
Average stats?
Shen Zhiyi, always patient with him, glanced at Ying Yu and explained, “He’s trying to create an item that can be used in both the real and game worlds.”
Zhou Qi’an froze, immediately thinking of the skull ring.
Back during Gong Ji, thanks to the red cloak, he had personally verified that the skull ring could briefly appear in the real world.
Shen Zhiyi continued, “The goal is to raise a person’s overall capabilities.”
Zhou Qi’an suddenly understood.
Wealth, health, intelligence, age, strength… The game evaluates players based on multiple variables, and strength holds a large share. Take the Hao siblings, for example—the sister had a higher IQ but was excluded from player selection because of a minor arm issue.
But what if an ordinary person possessed an item before entering the game? That would naturally enhance their strength stat.
After all, items serve as ‘power’ that can be borrowed within instances.
Thinking of this, Zhou Qi’an couldn’t help but take a deep breath.
That would mean a huge group of people previously rejected by the game… could now receive an invitation to a new world.
No wonder Ying Yu didn’t care about individual variance—he was focused on general survival rates.
Zhou Qi’an stared down at the crystal tiles underfoot. The longer he looked, the sleepier he got. He blinked and lightly stepped on the distorted figure inside.
Whether Ying Yu was a good person was debatable—but he was certainly a noble one.
And what kind of person was Zhou Qi’an?
He raised a hand and clawed at the air, grasping at mist. Every time he worked overtime, he thought: Why hasn’t this goddamn world exploded yet?
Ying Yu and Shen Zhiyi seemed like they were about to say something, but Zhou Qi’an suddenly raised a hand. “Don’t speak.”
“?”
“??”
Zhou Qi’an exhaled softly: “I’m morally condemning myself.”
After two seconds of self-condemnation, the eyes reflected in the crystal were suddenly filled with praise: “I work diligently and live responsibly. The fact that I’m not a psychopath is already impressive.”
He lightly patted his cheeks, his face full of sincerity.
Watching Zhou Qi’an show a rare touch of childlike innocence, Shen Zhiyi’s playful smile faded. He softly said, “It is impressive.”
Ying Yu didn’t seem annoyed by the out-of-place comment, and actually nodded in agreement.
People who spiral into self-loathing in the game usually go mad.
Zhou Qi’an took the initiative to bring the conversation back to business: “If it’s just about teaming up for instances, I don’t mind.”
Ying Yu laid out the pros and cons: “I’m usually matched with high-difficulty instances. Teaming up would raise your difficulty level too.”
Zhou Qi’an waved it off calmly: “That’s fine. I don’t mind.”
In this regard, it wasn’t clear who would be dragging whom down.
The room fell into a brief silence, and Zhou Qi’an felt like he was forgetting something.
Shen Zhiyi: “Your mom.”
Zhou Qi’an immediately snapped back: “…Oh, right, my mom and the 81 pit holes thing…”
Ying Yu tapped the table with his fingertip. The surface suddenly flickered—it was a touchscreen.
One by one, pale white faces appeared on the screen. Whether due to data loss during transmission or issues with the original footage, the faces were oddly blurry. The first time you looked, you could make out the features—but when you tried to recall them, you couldn’t remember the appearance at all.
“There were over thirty intact ancient corpses unearthed in Dun City.” Ying Yu showed him the dug-up bodies. “Your mother probably didn’t want to leave a single one behind, which is why she didn’t manage to escape in time.”
Zhou Qi’an thought of their old and shabby apartment. His first reaction: There are so many corpses, they wouldn’t even fit in one room.
A long, slender hand suddenly reached over.
Shen Zhiyi zoomed in on a photo and said flatly, “Bodies leaked out from the instance.”
Zhou Qi’an froze: “I thought things from the instance couldn’t be brought out…”
His words stopped halfway. He remembered he had once successfully brought out Jin Zhi’s ashes.
Ying Yu gave Shen Zhiyi a meaningful look. “Mr. Shen is very knowledgeable. If it’s just corpses, it’s possible for them to enter the real world when a new instance entrance opens.”
Zhou Qi’an let out a long breath: “As long as my mom didn’t commit a crime, that’s fine. Oh—can you keep her in holding for a couple more days?”
“…”
“Keep her till next week. That way, including the weekend, I can just go clear an instance, and be back at the office by Monday.”
Zhou Qi’an muttered as he did the mental math.
Ying Yu suddenly felt that the fact Zhou Qi’an hadn’t gone full psycho and tried to destroy society was truly extraordinary.
To be precise—he had already given the world all the kindness he could.
Author’s Note:
Ying Yu: How would you describe your relationships with those around you?
Zhou Qi’an: Three and one, but when played right, they’re a royal flush.
Emphasis on “flush.” As in boom.
