The word “son” from the woman sounded like a twisted form of affection.
Instantly, following the mother’s line of sight, all the players turned to look at Zhou Qi’an.
Mother and son — the resemblance between Zhou Qi’an and his mother was obvious at a glance, enough for a visual DNA test. But when the two stood in the same space, no one would associate them, let alone guess their relationship.
There was an indescribable, utterly opposite aura about them that blurred even the most direct connection.
After the woman said “son,” the twin-tailed girl was the first to conclude:
“He’s not hired.”
He’s her biological son.
Her tone held confusion. It wasn’t unusual for siblings to enter a instance together, but a mother-son combo? Practically impossible.
The game prioritized physical strength when selecting players. Once someone reached a certain age—regardless of gender—they’d be ruthlessly filtered out unless they had exceptional intelligence or other unique advantages.
Though the woman looked young, considering her son’s age, she had to be at least in her forties.
“Captain.” The twin-tailed girl glanced at the calm man, signaling whether they should test the woman’s strength.
The man shook his head, keeping his eyes on the makeshift matchmaking corner.
Zhou Qi’an took two steps forward, seemingly responding to his mother’s call, but he stopped at just the right distance—about two or three meters away from the matchmaking booth.
Mother Zhou said, “Still haven’t found the right one. I’ll keep looking.”
Zhou Qi’an felt a headache coming on. Just then, a cool, emotionless voice came from behind.
“I can read faces,” Shen Zhiyi said calmly. “They all have faces of early death.”
The players twitched.
NPCs were never normal, and one look at those chalk-white faces made it obvious they were dead people.
Mother Zhou didn’t mind at all.
Shen Zhiyi continued, “Wide and sparse brows, narrow faces with no luster—they won’t gather wealth.”
Cursed luck?
Upon hearing this, Mother Zhou immediately turned back.
Ever since she left, all the travelers gathered around the matchmaking booth had stopped talking and were staring uniformly at this side. Their expressions weren’t the usual sinister NPC looks; they were just watching, smiling gently.
Except when they were told they had no fortune—then, their expressions shifted subtly.
This strange gaze made the players feel uneasy.
“Let’s head inside,” the calm man ordered his teammates.
Not just them—everyone else quickly turned and retreated into the waiting hall. Zhou Qi’an practically ran to escape the “matchmaking candidates.”
At the entrance, the clerk at the ticket window was still lazily yawning, but Zhou Qi’an noticed sharply that although he was pretending to be sleepy, his slit-like eyes were quietly tracking their every move.
Beyond the ticket gates, a few buses were parked. Behind the windshields, the drivers’ paper-white faces were also staring at the players.
That eerie feeling of being watched by countless eyes made Zhou Qi’an feel he’d rather be chased by ghosts than deal with this hidden menace.
Facing away from all the NPCs, with only players before him, Zhou Qi’an finally felt slightly more at ease.
He paused for a moment and then asked, “Should we exchange some information?”
He wanted to know how the others had found the bus station. Zhou Qi’an had a gut feeling that this question was crucial.
Half a minute passed with no response. Finally, the calm man spoke: “You must be joking, little brother. We just entered the instance like you.” He glanced at Mother Zhou. “Aside from this lady talking with an NPC, what information could we possibly have?”
The short-haired woman with the foreign teammates also smiled and nodded in agreement.
Their refusal caused a flicker of surprise in Zhou Qi’an’s eyes. He quickly narrowed them, figuring out what was going on. If the rumors were true and these people were entering instances in an organized and goal-oriented way to fight over some fortune-telling treasures, then the more people died early, the better for them.
So they didn’t even bother with basic introductions.
In other words, they were just waiting for others to die.
“No rush,” Shen Zhiyi suddenly turned his head and said softly, “If the ones running toward death aren’t anxious, we shouldn’t be either.”
Zhou Qi’an chuckled. True.
The atmosphere stiffened noticeably.
This silence suited Mother Zhou perfectly. She had already fallen asleep for her beauty rest, never sparing any of the players a glance.
Zhou Qi’an strongly suspected his mother was prejudiced against humans. Her standards for picking a daughter-in-law so far had only been met by a rice cooker and a multi-eyed spider.
Unfortunately, both failed final inspection and died.
…
Nighttime in the waiting hall had nothing to do with peace and quiet. The station bustled 24/7, and by early dawn the next day, travelers were still plentiful.
The group took turns on night watch. Before 7 a.m., everyone was woken by the sound of honking.
A bus returned, and among the people getting off, aside from a few unfamiliar faces, most were passengers who had left the station yesterday. They stepped down laughing and chatting—only to start wandering aimlessly in the station again.
A warm scene, but even Zhou Qi’an could feel the creeping eeriness in the air.
Even stranger, not a single player died last night.
The digital clock was precise: it was now 6:35 a.m.
By 6 o’clock, Zhou Qi’an had already gone to the bathroom and washed up. As a traditional haunted hotspot, the restroom was only old in facilities—but surprisingly, the faucets didn’t drip a single drop.
“Hmm…”
His fingertips tapped around as he pondered his next move. He wasn’t one to sit and wait for death. Just as he was considering exploring outside, a sudden ring-ring-ring interrupted his thoughts.
Ring-ring-ring.
The crisp, old-fashioned ringtone echoed. The sound came from the buzz-cut guy in their four-person team. He looked shocked, clearly unaware of when a phone had appeared in his pocket.
Everyone instinctively checked their own pockets—and found phones too. They looked like normal cell phones, complete with contact lists of about ten numbers, matching their group size.
Buzzcut stared hard at the screen, his finger hovering mid-air, clearly hesitant.
The twin-tailed girl straightened slightly. “Answer it.”
There was no avoiding trouble if it was coming.
When the calm man also nodded, buzzcut gritted his teeth and answered.
“Hello, is this Mr. Li?” The woman’s voice on the other end sounded normal.
Buzzcut really was surnamed Li. He didn’t answer right away, so the voice asked again patiently: “Is this Mr. Li?”
No response.
Every time she repeated the question, the interval and tone were exactly the same: “Is this Mr. Li?”
“…You… what…” Buzzcut waved the phone around. “Ah, bad signal… wait a moment…”
The caller hung up.
Buzzcut exhaled in relief. In this unknown situation, recklessly answering could be dangerous.
Ring-ring-ring.
Seconds later, someone else’s phone rang.
Realizing it wasn’t his, Buzzcut relaxed completely and turned his schadenfreude-filled gaze toward the unlucky soul—only to see Zhou Qi’an was answering.
Everyone turned their attention to him. As the second person to receive a call, repeating the same trick could provoke whoever was on the other end.
Zhou Qi’an looked down. “Hello.”
“Is this Mr. Zhou?”
“Yes.”
His crisp reply surprised everyone—even the foreigner who looked especially hard to mess with turned to look.
Not only did Zhou Qi’an respond, he even continued in a demanding tone: “What took you so long to call?”
As if he’d been waiting forever.
There was a pause on the other end before the woman apologized, “Sorry. Have you arrived already?”
Zhou Qi’an: “Of course.”
“Alright, I’ll come find you now.”
Zhou Qi’an leaned back in his seat. “Then hurry up.”
Players answered using speakerphone—not out of generosity, but because some curses spread through sound. Sharing the risk was the smart move.
After he hung up, the silence was deafening.
Everyone stared at him like they were admiring some rare creature.
A college student finally voiced what everyone was thinking: “Brother Zhou, you really just answered like that?”
“What else should I do?” Zhou Qi’an countered. “Pretend I’m not Zhou? Tell her not to come and expect her to listen?”
Her legs weren’t growing from his body.
“…”
The student swallowed. That was true, but still—who had the guts?
Zhou Qi’an glanced around. Wait… Where was Shen Zhiyi?
As if reading his thoughts, the student quickly said, “When you were on the phone, your mom looked at Shen-ge with a… deep gaze. Then he left.”
His habit of calling everyone “ge” (big bro) remained.
“Deep” was putting it nicely. Honestly, it looked more like how one stared at food.
Zhou Qi’an pursed his lips. “I see.”
He really didn’t want his boss and his mother to meet. It gave him a terrifying premonition. But strangely, he wasn’t too worried about Shen Zhiyi.
Why? Self-control.
Shen Zhiyi’s composure far exceeded that of the other two. That restraint signaled greater power—he had the ability to stay in control.
Shen Zhiyi returned quickly, carrying breakfast. He’d taken some items from the gift box on the bunny bus.
The steaming breakfast was for Zhou Qi’an. A lone meat bun was handed to the college student. The last bag, filled with vacuum-sealed food, went to Mother Zhou.
The college student, touched by the meat bun, had a phrase flash through his mind: throwing meat buns at dogs.
He shook off the weird thought and grew curious how Shen Zhiyi bought food. The spontaneous phones had no e-payment functions, and none of them had wallets.
Some players had heard of [Bloodstained Underworld Coins], but those were rare and incompatible with newbie status.
Shen Zhiyi: “What are you staring at? Never seen a bun before?”
The college student silently bit into his bun.
Shen Zhiyi had merely been cold toward Bai Chanyi and Mr. Ying’s group, but when it came to the current players, his attitude was clearly impatient. No one knew if it was because they had embarrassed Zhou Ge the night before.
The buzz-cut player snorted and tried to go out to buy something, but returned soon after, unsuccessful. As he passed by Mother Zhou, he paused. The thing she was eating… had a color that was hard to describe.
Mother Zhou looked up and smiled cheerfully. “Child, it’s dried tofu. Want some?”
The buzz-cut player suddenly felt a chill and shook his head, returning to his seat.
Then, his gaze froze on the doorway.
A woman stood there, clearly different from the other passengers in both dress and demeanor. She wore black high heels, looked about thirty, and had a silk scarf tied around her neck. The security guards hadn’t searched her at all.
She made her way over without any obstacles and asked, “Which one of you is Mr. Zhou?”
Everyone recognized that voice—it was the same woman who had called on the phone just moments ago.
No one answered, but several gazes turned toward Zhou Qi’an, which was answer enough.
Zhou Qi’an’s mouth twitched. He stepped forward. “That would be me.”
The woman extended her hand. “Sorry to keep you waiting. Hello, I’m Ms. Qi.”
“Nice to meet you, Ms. Qi.” Zhou Qi’an responded with a loose handshake. In an instant, a bone-deep chill seeped through his palm.
Ms. Qi didn’t let go right away—only after two seconds did a sharp slap land on her wrist.
“What are you doing?” Mother Zhou frowned in displeasure.
Ms. Qi’s hand turned red where it was slapped, her expression turning dark and cold.
But Mother Zhou didn’t care. She glanced at the huge diamond ring on Ms. Qi’s hand and immediately began scolding her son, “You’re getting involved with a married woman again, aren’t you?”
Zhou Qi’an: “…”
“Don’t think I don’t know,” Mother Zhou’s hair started writhing unnaturally. “I can smell her on you.”
Zhou Qi’an had indeed interacted with a female ghost recently—and their relationship level had gone up.
Narrowing his eyes, he glanced suspiciously at Shen Zhiyi. “What about you? Aren’t you going to ask me which married woman I’ve been with? What happened between us?”
It was totally unlike Shen Zhiyi to stay silent on something like this.
Shen Zhiyi: “…”
Ms. Qi was clearly thrown off by this chaotic relationship dynamic, even forgetting the anger she had felt earlier.
What kind of weird love triangle was this?
While the players looked on with a range of reactions, Ms. Qi regained her composure and said, “Please come with me.”
Zhou Qi’an followed.
After just a few steps, Ms. Qi turned back, surprised to see the others not following.
With expert reading of facial expressions, the players immediately understood—she was clearly wondering why they hadn’t come along.
The calm man made a quick decision and followed. The others did the same.
As they neared the ticket gates, Ms. Qi handed each of them a bus ticket.
Zhou Qi’an took a closer look. It was an ordinary ticket with the faint words “Ancient City” printed on it. The background featured an old-style building, and the ticket paper carried a faint chill.
After scanning the tickets, they passed through the gates with ease.
Ms. Qi pointed to the bus in the middle. “Take that one.”
There was no one inside but the driver.
The bus driver had bulging eyes filled with red veins—downright terrifying.
All the players boarded from the front door. Zhou Qi’an went first. When he saw the driver, his expression shifted slightly. The bus was parked at such an angle that it faced the waiting hall directly. It felt like the driver had been staring at them all night through those wide-open eyes.
Those same eyes were now staring right at them, locking gazes with Zhou Qi’an.
Unfazed, Zhou Qi’an calmly looked away and sat by the door.
The others had the same idea—everyone sat near the door and immediately checked whether the windows could be opened.
As soon as the doors closed, the driver couldn’t wait to start the engine.
This time, Zhou Qi’an took the initiative to talk to Ms. Qi. “What’s the plan for today?”
“Why, making money, of course,” Ms. Qi said with a dazzling smile, the diamond on her ring catching the light.
Zhou Qi’an didn’t press further, not wanting to give himself away.
The bus took a different road from before, leading them toward the “Ancient City” mentioned on the ticket.
The ride was smooth, and they arrived without incident.
From the window, it looked like they had entered an entirely different world.
It was called the “Ancient City” because all the buildings were modeled after historical architecture. Many tourists in various period costumes were taking photos. Songs from the shops floated through the windows—catchy and familiar.
The bus came to a stop.
Ms. Qi stood up and said, “Buses aren’t allowed in the ancient district. We’ll have to walk in.”
As soon as they got off, the lively atmosphere of the city hit them.
Zhou Qi’an wanted to observe more, but Ms. Qi walked too fast, giving them no time to pause and think.
She led the group through a few streets and eventually stopped at a small house at the end of a narrow alley.
Moss grew along the threshold, and the faint smell of mildew filled the air.
Ms. Qi unlocked the brass lock and pushed the old door open.
The alley faced away from the sun, so the shop remained dark and damp even during the day. Ms. Qi flipped the switch on the wall, and the ceiling light flickered a few times before fully illuminating the room.
The moment the light came on, the players in the front were startled.
It wasn’t just them—everyone else had the same reaction. For a split second, the cramped room seemed filled with shadowy figures.
But when they looked closely again, they realized—it was just mannequins.
All kinds of clothing hung in the small space. Ms. Qi stepped aside and smiled, “Please, pick one.”
At the same time, a long-lost mechanical voice echoed:
[Side Quest Triggered]
[Side Quest: Choose Your Outfit]
Quest Description: Clothes reflect the person, and people reflect their clothes. Pick an outfit you like! The cost has already been paid.
Each type of outfit had multiple copies in various sizes. Male and female outfits were both available. At the entrance was a sign that read “All 72 Professions are Esteemed”, which made players instinctively think of jobs. Surprisingly, many outfits could be linked to real occupations.
There were both modern and historical outfits, with many clearly corresponding to specific roles.
But all the clothes had clearly been worn before—like those rented from photo studios. They weren’t freshly hung, and cleaning had been poorly done.
Some even gave off a sour, musty odor.
And that wasn’t the worst part. When Zhou Qi’an ran his fingers along a nearby robe’s wide sleeves, a chill shot straight to his bones—just like when he had shaken Ms. Qi’s hand.
Instinctively, he looked back.
Ms. Qi was standing at the doorway, her smile unchanged, standing right in the shadows.
Zhou Qi’an asked, “Are we supposed to wear these to go make money?”
Ms. Qi smiled sweetly. “Of course. But…” She paused. As she spoke, her pupils shrank slightly and her tone turned darker, “Once you’ve made your choice—no changing.”
The room temperature dropped suddenly. A breeze came from nowhere, making the robes sway as if empty bodies were wearing them.
Thud!
A heavy object hit the ground, making everyone jump. A player who entered late had accidentally knocked a costume off its hanger.
It was an ancient-style constable’s outfit. The design was mostly obscured by horrifying bloodstains, and even the inner lining had bits of flesh stuck in its seams.
One could only imagine what the wearer had gone through.
Ms. Qi walked over, slowly bent down, and picked it up. “The last person who wore this was upholding justice when he had an accident. Poor thing. He was so young…”
When she stood back up, she looked directly at the player who had knocked the outfit down and whispered, “Just like you.”
The player turned ghostly pale.
“Every tourist in the Ancient City has their own story,” Ms. Qi giggled behind her hand. “When you’re on the job, be careful not to offend anyone.”
After the constable outfit appeared, the players looked at the other clothes more closely—and realized nearly all had traces of bloodstains.
No one dared touch them now. It was as if the clothes themselves were ominous.
Ms. Qi kept smiling eerily. “Hurry up and pick, or how will you work?”
In the dead silence, one sound stood out.
It was Mother Zhou.
She was holding up a piece of clothing for closer inspection. “This one looks nice.”
She had chosen a blood-red robe, almost purple in hue. A greyish floral headpiece sat next to it—it was an old lady’s wig. Together, they formed a matchmaker’s costume, the exaggerated kind only seen in theatrical performances.
Mother Zhou put the wig on, clearly eager to wear the whole outfit.
“I’ll put this on later and help the young folks in town find their matches.”
The other players watched in horror—this woman was fearless. Almost recklessly so.
Zhou Qi’an swallowed hard at the sight.
He instinctively edged closer to Shen Zhiyi. He didn’t even want to imagine what this city would be like once his mother let her true self run free.
In a low voice, Zhou Qi’an asked, “You know what I’m thinking right now?”
Shen Zhiyi’s expression remained calm.
His shadow, more mischievous than his body, mimicked Zhou Qi’an’s usual manner and made the sign of the cross over its chest—
Today’s journal entry for the shadow was complete: May the Lord bless this city.
While everyone was distracted by Mother Zhou, Zhou Qi’an began inspecting the clothes seriously.
First, he ruled out anything nurse- or security-related—those likely required night shifts. He also skipped any street performer outfits, which were placed beside guitars.
He couldn’t play guitar. And if you chose a job, you had to be able to do the job—otherwise…
He glanced at the blood-soaked constable uniform. That was a cautionary tale.
Eventually, Zhou Qi’an’s gaze landed on an old robe with a pair of sunglasses hanging from the collar.
“This job seems easy.”
He imagined himself lazing in the sun, slacking off. If trouble came, he’d just say, “Your time is near.” And if they didn’t believe him? Stab—a harpoon to the gut.
A way to make money and take lives.
__
Author’s note:
Zhou Qi’an: A very respectable profession.
Ghosts: …
