(6/10)
Yuying University
Chapter 420: Flirt
Wen Jianyan pressed one hand down on the pot lid, panting heavily.
Even though he had only taken a few steps just now, it felt as if he’d run an entire marathon. His heart was pounding wildly, and his ears buzzed.
He had mentally prepared himself, but the visual impact of confronting fear directly…
…was still too overwhelming.
Wen Jianyan remembered that in the first scene of the movie, they’d stayed outside the bathroom door for quite some time. Yet, nothing strange had happened the entire time. Things only spiraled out of control after he crouched down and made eye contact with the head behind the door.
If the premise of being attacked was “being seen”…
Then wouldn’t not seeing it solve the problem?
Wen Jianyan slowly took a deep breath, then lowered his head and looked at the iron pot in front of him.
Ever since he’d closed the lid, the head inside had gone silent.
Within just a dozen seconds, Wen Jianyan could feel the scalding heat through the lid, burning his hand slightly, but he didn’t dare let go.
Maintaining his grip on the lid with one hand, he used the other to open his backpack and activated two yellow talismans with red writing. He placed them in a crisscross pattern over the boiling pot, sealing it tightly. Only then did he slowly let go and step back.
He stood a short distance away, his face and hands flushed red from the steam, but his eyes remained fixed on the iron pot.
There was no movement from inside.
The talismans were still intact.
It looked like the danger had been temporarily neutralized.
Wen Jianyan let out a long sigh of relief.
But before he could fully relax, his heightened senses—sharpened by adrenaline—caught a faint sound—
Footsteps.
Coming from outside the door.
“!”
Wen Jianyan froze, breath held, his heart leaping up again.
He whipped his head toward the source of the sound.
The kitchen was extremely quiet. Apart from the bubbling of the boiling water, there was nothing else. Which made the sound from outside even clearer.
Yes, footsteps. He hadn’t misheard.
And they were getting closer.
Within seconds, Wen Jianyan understood the reason.
—It was the noise.
Even though he had tried to be careful, the clash of metal as he hurried to seal the pot created sharp noises that were hard to avoid.
It was that sound that had given him away and revealed his location.
“……”
Standing in the empty kitchen, Wen Jianyan felt the hair on his back stand on end. A thin sheen of cold sweat formed in his palms.
In the “Integrity First” live room barrage:
[Damn, just one danger after another. Is this really a peripheral exploration? Why do I feel like he runs into danger just as much as everyone else…]
[LMAO, you must be new. Get used to it.]
[Seriously, this anchor’s always being targeted.]
[Well, there’s a reason for that. Debating whether to spoil it for you guys.]
[??? Wait, what do you mean? Say it clearly, we’re all viewers here—don’t pull that cryptic nonsense.]
Wen Jianyan had no idea what the chat was talking about.
He stood still, ears straining to listen.
Clearly, there weren’t many footsteps outside.
Probably only two or three pairs.
It seemed he wasn’t that unlucky—he had attracted some attention with the noise, but the main group of monsters had probably continued chasing Orange Candy and the others.
His mind spun rapidly, sifting through every possible strategy he could use.
The footsteps outside came closer.
Seal the door?
He glanced at the pot lid behind him with the talismans.
No good.
He didn’t have many tools left—he couldn’t afford to waste them.
Besides, unlike the disembodied head that operated by a “being seen” rule, these monsters could move. If his talismans didn’t hold the door, he’d have to face them head-on.
And he really didn’t want to do that.
Also…
Wen Jianyan hadn’t given up on the possibility of finding more clues here.
If these monsters couldn’t be killed and had to be dealt with some other way…
A faint rustling sound came from the door, as if something was pressing against the iron frame, slowly stroking it from the outside.
Before the door could be pushed open, Wen Jianyan acted instantly.
He crouched low, like a slippery fish, and swiftly slid into the cabinet beneath the counter—disappearing without a trace.
At the same time, the iron door gave a sharp creak and opened from the outside.
As it did, the cabinet door gave a soft “click” and quietly closed.
Almost simultaneously, Wen Jianyan activated a tool that lowered his presence again.
“……”
The cabinet was empty. The space inside wasn’t too cramped, but it certainly wasn’t roomy either.
It was pitch dark—he couldn’t even see his hand in front of his face. Only a faint sliver of light seeped in through the cabinet seams, falling softly across the side of Wen Jianyan’s face.
The air was stale. Deathly still.
Curled up in the darkness, Wen Jianyan could only hear the sound of his own breathing echoing inside the wooden box.
Outside, stiff and dragging footsteps sounded.
They came from the door and crept closer, each step louder and heavier—like stomping directly on his heart, tightening his nerves with every echo.
The footsteps paced around outside the cabinet. He could only estimate the distance by sound.
The scrape of shoes against the floor—shff, shff—kept coming, closing in. Wen Jianyan’s heart climbed higher in his chest.
Suddenly, the footsteps stopped right outside the cabinet.
The abrupt silence after continuous sound made his breath hitch involuntarily.
Wen Jianyan’s spine stiffened. He instinctively quieted his breathing.
Images he couldn’t see filled his mind, his imagination running wild in the dark, making the unknown feel even more terrifying.
What was out there?
Why had it stopped?
Had it noticed something?
As Wen Jianyan’s mind spiraled, the footsteps resumed—shuffling around the kitchen in jerky, lifeless patterns. Closer, then farther. Left, then right. Aimless, but never leaving.
In the “Integrity First” live room barrage:
[What’s going on? It’s been pitch black on screen forever. I’m getting sleepy.]
[No clue… It’s dragging on forever. Why hasn’t it left?]
[Hey hey! The anchor’s reading chat now!]
[AAAAAH!]
In the darkness, Wen Jianyan opened the livestream interface. The bluish glow of his screen lit up his profile. He scanned the sparse chat, an unreadable expression on his face.
To be honest, he was also puzzled about why the monster hadn’t left.
He had hoped the chat might provide some clues—but clearly, the game’s anti-spoiler system was too good. He couldn’t get any useful info.
Since that was the case, there was no point reading further.
Wen Jianyan glanced indifferently at the concerned, frenzied, taunting, and hinting comments. He raised his eyelids lazily, the corners of his eyes lifting into a habitual smile. Then he raised a finger to his lips in a silent “shhh” gesture.
“Quiet.”
Wen Jianyan whispered, barely audible.
As if every viewer were right beside him.
“They’ll come if you make noise.”
He knew his charm—and how to use it.
[!!]
[!!!]
[AAAAAAHHHH!]
Then, without hesitation, Wen Jianyan shut down the livestream window, sweeping all the noisy messages from his mind.
He stared ahead, eyes fixed on the narrow slit of light through the cabinet seam.
The footsteps outside still lingered.
Two possibilities.
Either the monster was just aimlessly wandering until it found a target.
Or… it knew someone was hiding in the kitchen, which was why it hadn’t left.
But neither explanation fully made sense.
Just as Wen Jianyan was lost in thought, there was a sudden loud CLANG—like something crashing hard onto the ground. The impact shook the floor and cabinet, startling Wen Jianyan. He flinched, instinctively bracing himself with one hand.
Half a second later, he realized what caused the noise.
The pot.
It had been sitting precariously on the stove’s edge. As the monster moved around, it must have knocked it over.
A familiar chill climbed up his spine.
But suddenly, Wen Jianyan sensed something.
His gaze dropped to his outstretched hand on the floor.
He had instinctively braced himself earlier, and now…
…the texture of the ground under his palm felt off.
Underneath the cabinet was dirt.
Damp, sticky, oddly slimy soil.
Wen Jianyan paused, then pinched a bit between his fingers and brought it to his nose.
Metallic.
Like blood.
In that instant, it clicked—just earlier, he had activated the “Guiding Hand” tool, which had pointed him toward this area. He had searched it briefly but had focused on the visible floor, not beneath it.
His heartbeat quickened.
His fingers trembled slightly, but he swiftly turned on his phone flashlight and shone it toward the spot.
On the ground was a dark brown, irregular circular stain. In the sealed cabinet, it gave off a faint, sweet metallic scent.
The soil layer was shallow.
But it didn’t matter—as long as it confirmed a tool existed here.
Wen Jianyan pressed his fingers against the damp ground, eyes gleaming in the dark.
The “Hand of Guidance” had pointed here. There was supporting evidence, proving the item existed. Yet, the spot was empty. What did that mean?
The answer was obvious.
The item was real and located here—but it existed outside the movie, within the dungeon itself. So, although he could perceive its presence, he couldn’t obtain it yet.
To get it, he had to return to the dungeon and find a way into the cafeteria’s back kitchen.
As Wen Jianyan was deep in thought, a new sound echoed from outside—a wet, gurgling noise, like a round object rolling across the floor…
“!”
Not good.
Wen Jianyan snapped back to reality.
The fallen pot had broken the talismans he placed on it, and the head that had once been immobilized was now clearly released.
It was coming for him!
The footsteps outside seemed to vanish.
Wen Jianyan lunged forward, trying to seal the narrow cabinet seam with a talisman—but before he could activate it, a blood-red eyeball suddenly appeared, staring through the crack in the cabinet door.
It locked eyes with Wen Jianyan inside. Steam still hissed faintly from the eye socket. Though its voice hadn’t changed from the one in the bathroom earlier, it now somehow carried…
…the strange illusion of someone speaking through clenched teeth.
“Found you.”
“Heehee.”
In the movie Brave Richard…
Su Cheng was carefully noting down everything that had happened and every rule he had managed to figure out.
In the film scenes, whenever the protagonist disappeared, the players would be plunged into deadly crises unrelated to the plot—designed solely to kill them. In those moments, everything became an enemy.
NPCs that were previously kind would turn into grotesque, terrifying monsters wandering the set hunting them down. Even the surrounding environment and darkness would become perilous—one wrong step, and their sanity and health would drop drastically.
Fortunately, such scenes didn’t last long—only about fifteen minutes.
If they survived for fifteen minutes, everything would return to normal and they’d rejoin the movie plot.
The lights would come back on, monsters would vanish, the library would look exactly as it had fifteen minutes earlier. Everything would appear no different from the real world. Even the NPCs would reset and vanish before their eyes, as if time had rewound and the movie was resuming from its last pause point.
Unfortunately, in order to escape the “seen = sanity loss” monsters, the group had run too far. Even though they rushed back after the library returned to normal, they failed to intercept Richard in time—catching only the back of him leaving the library.
Then came the familiar flash of burned film—signaling a scene transition.
Just before Richard left, Su Cheng managed to ask the librarian which section he had last visited and the shelf number nearby. Then, like the others, he was forcibly ejected from the library by the white light.
As they burst out, the scene switched.
Su Cheng stopped in place, looking around in surprise.
This was…
…the gymnasium.
Yes, the gymnasium.
Not far away, the swimming pool was visible.
The water shimmered a clear blue under the lights.
The air was thick with the scent of chlorine and the dampness of the pool. Looking around, the area appeared completely empty.
Su Cheng looked up toward the side windows of the gym—
Pitch-black.
It must be night.
“Where are we?” Scarface looked confused as he glanced around with wide eyes. “I didn’t know the school had a place like this.”
“The sealed gym behind the sports field,” Tian Ye explained helpfully.
“Ohhh!”
Scarface nodded in realization.
The other team might not know, but Su Cheng’s team did—Wen Jianyan had explored this area before and even briefly shared what he’d experienced inside.
So unlike the others, they were prepared for what might come next.
As they stood assessing their surroundings, a faint sound came from not far away.
It sounded like murmured conversation—or perhaps a hushed argument.
The group exchanged glances and quickly headed toward the source.
Soon, they spotted silhouettes.
They immediately recognized the figure standing at the edge of the pool—it was the film’s protagonist, Richard.
He was bent over, speaking to a girl in the water.
Due to the distance, they couldn’t hear what either was saying.
But just as Su Cheng’s group began moving closer—
Something changed.
Suddenly, Richard reached out and slammed the girl’s head into the water. A loud splash echoed, making everyone jump.
“Mmph!”
The girl thrashed beneath the surface, her muffled cries bubbling up as she struggled desperately. But Richard showed no signs of letting go. Veins bulged on his arms, his upper body leaning far over the pool, gripping the girl’s hair tightly and forcing her underwater.
Yun Bilan gasped and took a step forward instinctively.
But Su Cheng stopped her. “Wait.”
“We’re already characters within the movie now—we need to be cautious,” Su Cheng said, eyes fixed ahead. “This is just a film.”
Even if they could alter the plot, the real danger was what might happen if they did—they could trigger an even worse death condition.
Yun Bilan paused, then stepped back.
The splashing continued—wild at first, then gradually weakening, until finally, it stopped altogether.
Ripples shimmered across the blue water, reflecting white glimmers of light.
Richard seemed to realize what he’d done. He slowly let go and stepped back, breathing heavily. Whether because of the distance or for some other reason, Su Cheng and the others couldn’t make out the expression on his face.
He stood still for a moment—then turned and ran.
“After him!” Su Cheng ordered.
Inside the cabinet, Wen Jianyan was still hiding. Outside, that blood-red eyeball was locked onto him. His sanity value began dropping again, dangerously low.
Laughter—strange and distorted—echoed in his mind.
Wen Jianyan acted instantly.
He had to move—now.
Bracing against the wall with both hands, he coiled his body in the cramped space, drew up his legs, and—
SLAM!
With a sharp bang, the fragile cabinet door was kicked open from the inside.
The head stuck to the door was knocked loose and tumbled across the floor.
“……”
In the “Integrity First” live room barrage:
[…Damn.]
[Okay, I know it’s not polite to laugh, but… that was kind of hilarious.]
[HAHAHAHA oh my god, the way that head got yeeted by the cabinet door was too weird—it’s creepy and funny!]
[Breaking news: popular anchor kicks down cabinet door with a flourish!]
[I’m crying, is this a coming out arc or what?]
In the blink of an eye, Wen Jianyan crawled out of the cabinet and stood lightly on his feet.
He scanned the room quickly.
The kitchen was now empty. The footsteps that had been drawn here by sound had apparently wandered off. But for Wen Jianyan, the danger wasn’t over.
The head had rolled away—but his actions had clearly enraged it.
The whispering grew louder, echoing inside his skull, until he could hear nothing else.
That familiar dizziness and nausea crept in, and strange rings and colors blurred the edges of his vision.
But just as Wen Jianyan prepared to use a tool—or take any kind of counteraction—
Everything stopped.
The laughter, the head, the monstrous phenomena—gone.
Even the flickering lights above his head were now steady. The kitchen looked exactly like it had moments ago.
Wen Jianyan stood frozen for a second.
Then he quickly realized what had happened.
Either Orange Candy had forcefully broken the scene again…
…or they had reached a scene transition point—where the movie plot took back over from the horror intrusion.
Wen Jianyan lowered his hand and exhaled a breath of relief.
At least he didn’t need to waste a tool—good news.
With that thought, he glanced at the top-right corner. His sanity value had indeed dropped, but not drastically. He was now at 51. For other anchors, that was a dangerously low threshold. But Wen Jianyan had survived worse. For him, 50-something was barely a warning sign.
He looked around again.
Now that they had returned to the movie scene, he could resume—
Before he could finish the thought, he suddenly felt a chill brush past his ear.
“!”
Startled, Wen Jianyan shrank away instinctively, glancing suspiciously at the empty air beside him.
—There was nothing.
“……” He hesitated, then raised a hand to touch his earlobe.
Was it just his imagination?
Or was it a side effect of his dropping sanity?
The sensation just now… felt like someone had pinched his earlobe gently.
The fingers were cold.
But the pressure—wasn’t threatening.
Rather, it felt like…affection.
