(9/10)
Yuying University
Chapter 423: “Hehe…I saw you.”
Familiar ringing echoed through the dormitory building, and the old lights lit up one by one along the hallway.
“Wake up, wake up—!”
The dorm supervisor auntie’s voice carried through the walls.
Wen Jianyan groaned and sat up in bed, holding his forehead.
“Ugh…”
He frowned, still groggy.
He couldn’t remember anything, but… he had the feeling he’d had a really bad dream.
Wen Jianyan pressed his lips together.
Was it just his imagination, or did his lips feel kind of… numb?
A bit swollen, and strange.
Still, the sensation wasn’t strong enough to trigger a warning.
He shook off the lingering thoughts and climbed down from the top bunk.
The others in the dorm were also waking up, getting out of bed one after another.
Meanwhile, the noise of footsteps and chatter drifted in from the corridor outside, but compared to previous days, it seemed noticeably quieter.
“…”
Wen Jianyan looked away.
After all, this was the fifth day they’d been in the instance. Even though the difficulty wasn’t especially high, and the pace wasn’t tight, by now, nearly every dorm had suffered some degree of personnel loss.
“Uh…”
A hesitant voice came from the side.
“Little bro, what’s up with your neck?”
“Hm?”
Wen Jianyan blinked, then realized a second later that the question was directed at him. “What?”
Following the guy’s gesture, he turned to look at the mirror.
As he stretched his neck, a pale bluish handprint was clearly visible on his white skin. It was faint, with red edges, pressed exactly over his artery—stark against his throat.
“Where did that come from?” Leopard asked with a frown. “Did something happen?”
“…I don’t know.”
After a long pause, Wen Jianyan replied quietly.
“You don’t think… something unclean is targeting you, do you?” Brother Hu sounded worried as he looked at the handprint on Wen Jianyan’s neck.
“Probably.”
Wen Jianyan raised his hand and slowly buttoned his shirt up to the collar, hiding the mark from view.
Brother Hu: “?”
He couldn’t quite figure out the guy’s attitude.
This should’ve been terrifying for anyone, yet this seemingly harmless young man remained strangely calm and indifferent.
“This might be some kind of curse. Do you have any idea where it came from?” Brother Hu asked cautiously.
“Unfortunately, no.”
Wen Jianyan shrugged and turned his head.
The sky outside was still dim, casting his profile in shadow, making his light-colored eyes look even paler.
“No way to tell. There are just too many suspects.”
He smiled helplessly.
Brother Hu: “……”
In the “Integrity First” live room barrage:
[Hahahaha!]
[Brother Hu: Just how many ghosts has this guy pissed off these past few days??]
[HAHAHAHAH I’m dying. Turns out our streamer has made so many enemies in this instance that every single one wants him dead, and he can’t even figure out who did it!]
[But seriously, I don’t remember seeing that handprint appear?]
[Me neither…]
[Probably happened after he fell asleep. But usually if a threat appears while the streamer’s asleep, the stream auto-restarts, right? I didn’t get any alert.]
[Same.]
[Then maybe it wasn’t life-threatening? But that just makes it more suspicious!]
Wen Jianyan checked the mirror to ensure the mark was hidden, only a faint red edge showing.
He pressed his neck lightly and rolled his shoulders.
Didn’t hurt.
What he told Brother Hu was true—just a handprint like that wasn’t enough to pinpoint the curse’s source. In this instance, he’d truly made way too many enemies.
The club from the beginning, the student council later, then the convenience store owner, the elective teacher… even the dance and gym instructors he’d only met once had some kind of grudge with him.
Wen Jianyan sighed and looked away.
Still, he hadn’t expected something to sneak into his dorm like that—without triggering his bone wind chime barrier.
Maybe tonight he should reinforce it using the things he’d picked up at the convenience store.
Just then, he overheard Zhao Ze and the others chatting nearby.
“Hey, isn’t today the morality class?”
“Yeah.”
“But… where the heck is the lecture hall?”
“No clue. We’ve been looking, but we can’t find it.”
“We really need to hurry. No matter what, we’ve got to turn in our electives’ homework.”
Wen Jianyan blinked.
It seemed not just the film appreciation class—all electives had assignments. And the final deadline for turning them in was during the last period of Friday’s morality class.
If not, they wouldn’t have enough credits to redeem their “leave” from the school and would have to stay in the instance another week.
Not to mention the risk of failing and being penalized.
While Wen Jianyan was deep in thought, footsteps echoed outside the door, and a moment later, it was pushed open.
A pale, narrow face appeared.
It was Weasel.
Other than being paler than before, and his aura darker, his features hadn’t changed. He scanned the room with his eyes, briefly pausing on Wen Jianyan before heading to his teammates.
Wen Jianyan noticed that when Weasel entered, Zhao Ze and the others immediately fell silent, not saying another word.
“…”
He glanced over, studying their expressions carefully, a thoughtful look in his eyes.
Clearly, his teammates had noticed something off.
But…
If they had, and hadn’t acted, what did that mean?
Were they not certain enough to act yet—or was there another reason?
Wen Jianyan lowered his gaze, his lashes casting shadows over his eyes.
Friday morning, as usual, Wen Jianyan was acting together with Orange Candy.
“Ready?” she asked casually, cracking her shoulders with a loud pop.
Wen Jianyan nodded. “Let’s go.”
As the pen slid over the cold paper, the world around them shifted once more.
The cold, eerie cafeteria reappeared before their eyes.
Same as last time, Orange Candy quickly scribbled something on the paper, and then the two of them split up.
Having learned from his last visit, Wen Jianyan was much more cautious this time.
He followed his previous route, trying to scout specific areas without being spotted.
Unfortunately, his luck was even worse than last time.
He hadn’t gotten far before he ran into monsters again.
And this time, there were a lot of them.
Wen Jianyan scanned the creatures moving beyond the cafeteria tables.
Three.
He hadn’t heard a thing—no footsteps, no shadows. One moment he was alone, the next he was surrounded.
Bloated corpses lumbered toward him, their empty black eyes staring blankly. Wen Jianyan began retreating slowly, alert.
Suddenly, a cold gust brushed the back of his neck. A shiver shot down his spine.
Almost on reflex, he turned—and came face to face with a pale, twisted face.
“—”
Wen Jianyan’s pupils contracted. A scream nearly tore from his throat.
But before he could do anything, a pair of cold, white hands shot out from beneath the table, like icy clamps. They gripped his ankle tightly and yanked.
“!!!”
Caught off guard, Wen Jianyan fell hard and was dragged beneath the table.
In the “Integrity First” live room barrage:
[Holy crap!!]
[AAAAAAAAAAHHH WTF!!!]
[NO NO NO HE’S GONNA DIEEEE—!!]
In the next second, a roaring flame burst to life in the center of the cafeteria, licking toward the ceiling and crackling in the cold air.
Frightened by the light and heat, the pale faces and bloated limbs jerked back, retreating into the shadows.
The flames dwindled. Heat and light faded.
The cafeteria returned to darkness.
Just as they had appeared, the monsters vanished—leaving no trace.
Wen Jianyan lay gasping on the floor beneath the table.
His hair was a mess, forehead dripping sweat. The fire’s heat had flushed his cheeks and reddened the skin under his eyes.
Shit.
That was close.
He gripped the edge of the table, fighting down a wave of nausea.
Only after a long moment did his tense body finally relax. He exhaled a shaky breath.
Everything had happened so fast, and even though it had only just happened, the memory already felt fragmented and chaotic, hard to fully recall.
Still, Wen Jianyan knew how close he’d come to death.
If he hadn’t already prepared for the possibility of an ambush before entering, if he hadn’t packed that rare wide-range tool…
He might really have died here. Just another streamer who got outplayed.
The thought made his heart race.
Even with Orange Candy drawing aggro elsewhere, the intensity of this ambush had been way worse than before.
Was it because his SAN value was too low?
Or was it something else?
Countless thoughts spun through his head.
Wen Jianyan used a nearby table to push himself upright, limping slightly.
He looked down to check his ankle.
Each pale ankle now bore deep bluish-black handprints, already swollen and bruised. The sight was startling.
…And kind of matched the ones on his neck.
Wen Jianyan reached up and touched the mark under his collar with a grimace. “Tch.”
He leaned against the table, scanning the room.
The fire was gone. The cafeteria was once more dark—but the monsters had all disappeared too.
Unlike last time, no corpses were left behind.
So he had no way to check if there were any more of those strange badges inside them.
Wen Jianyan scratched his head in frustration.
At least this time, he could draw a definite conclusion.
Although he didn’t know whether the same rules applied in other movie-related scenarios, at least in the world of Wang Ni’s Day, the monsters feared fire.
Wen Jianyan thought for a moment, pulled out a chair, and sat down. He reached into his pocket for a fountain pen and quickly began writing on that cold, eerie piece of paper.
Very soon, once he reached 300 characters, the health bar above his head flickered—dropping by 10 points.
In the distance, the dragging footsteps grew closer.
Wen Jianyan’s pen flew across the page without pause, as if racing against the approaching threat.
When he hit the 500-character mark, a familiar voice echoed in his ears:
[Congratulations, your study task is complete. Would you like to continue?]
Distorted shadows loomed closer.
Wen Jianyan put down the pen. “No.”
The moment he spoke, the ground under his feet shifted—and the scene changed in an instant.
The cafeteria was gone. They were back at the dorm building.
“Hey,”
Orange Candy’s dissatisfied voice came from beside him. “Why did you quit so fast this time?”
In principle, there was no limit to how many times they could enter the movie. The issue was, to finish a movie segment, you had to write 500 characters at a time—and each assignment required 1,500 characters.
Since Wen Jianyan and Orange Candy were two people, they could double up, but the total amount still had an upper limit. They couldn’t afford to waste chances.
Orange Candy turned to look at Wen Jianyan, and was startled when she saw how disheveled he looked:
“What happened to you?”
She eyed him with distaste, scanning him from top to bottom:
“So dirty.”
Wen Jianyan glanced down at his dusty shirt and the sleeve singed by flames, and casually glossed over the incident: “It’s nothing, just got attacked.”
Then he changed the subject. “Anyway, I figured something out—the monsters’ weakness is definitely fire.”
“Sweet!” Orange Candy’s eyes lit up, and she jumped off her chair. “Nice job.”
“You have no idea. I got basically nothing this time. Didn’t find a single badge.”
She was annoyed, but hearing Wen Jianyan’s new intel reignited her fighting spirit: “If they’re afraid of fire, then I might have a plan to try next time…”
Watching her eager expression as she rubbed her fists together, Wen Jianyan felt genuinely moved.
Ah, having a high-attack, high-agility, proactive teammate is so nice.
He could slack off with no pressure at all.
But then he blinked, as if he suddenly realized something: “Wait—you didn’t get anything?”
“Yeah.” Orange Candy pouted and hopped back onto her chair, swinging her legs. “There weren’t that many monsters this time. And even the ones I gutted didn’t have any new badges.”
In short:
Empty-handed.
“…”
Wen Jianyan stood in place, lowering his eyes as if deep in thought.
After a long pause, he looked up and said to Orange Candy, “Next time we go in, I’ll help you collect badges.”
“Huh? You’re not going solo?” Orange Candy frowned, clearly displeased.
Other people might jump at the chance to act with a teammate, but not Orange Candy. She liked to go all-out and saw teammates as a burden.
“It’s just…”
Wen Jianyan sighed and lifted the leg of his pants, revealing a slim, pale ankle with a swollen, purplish-black handprint. The bruising was intense.
His hair was a mess, the back of his neck still smudged with ash, and his sweat had left pale streaks on his cheeks.
Maybe from the fire earlier, but his eyelids were red and his eyes glittered like he was still holding back tears.
Combined with his slumped posture, he looked… kind of pitiful.
Orange Candy: “…”
She looked at Wen Jianyan, then at his leg, her expression doubtful.
If she didn’t know how capable a top-10-ranked streamer really was, she might’ve been fooled by this act—
“So I’ll probably need to rely on you now,” Wen Jianyan looked up at her and blinked. His voice dragged out sweetly, “Captain~”
Orange Candy coughed, puffing out her chest: “…Fine.”
In the “Integrity First” live room barrage:
[….]
[….]
[BRO, ARE YOU ADDICTED TO MOOCHING OR WHAT?!?!?!]
[I’m so disappointed in you. Orange Candy, don’t fall for his sweet-talking lies! HE IS NOT A GOOD PERSON!!!]
After preparing again, the two of them entered the movie world for the third time.
With previous experience under their belts, they clearly moved more confidently this round. They were familiar with the map and the monsters, and weren’t nearly as cautious—well, at least Orange Candy wasn’t.
As for Wen Jianyan, he did his best to act the part of a limp, injured sidekick, hobbling along behind her without getting in the way.
The stream audience was already too tired to keep cursing this shameless freeloader.
And maybe because they were moving together, this time… the number of monsters was horrifying.
The air was damp and cold, reeking of rot. Pale, bloated faces swayed in the darkness as they drew near, step by step—a nightmarish scene.
Even though he wasn’t alone, Wen Jianyan couldn’t stop his scalp from tingling.
The number was terrifying. It felt endless, constantly growing.
Even with Wen Jianyan’s sharp mind and familiarity with the cafeteria’s layout, and even with Orange Candy’s combat skills and a rich stash of items, they both began struggling to keep up.
When the number of monsters was just about to overwhelm them, Orange Candy suddenly shouted:
“Now!”
Almost instinctively, Wen Jianyan activated his item.
Flames roared outward. The damp corpses recoiled and staggered back, creating just enough space for the two of them to breathe.
Seizing the moment, they once again withdrew from the movie.
The eerie cafeteria vanished, replaced by the empty dorm entrance.
Both of them were panting heavily.
Wen Jianyan raised a hand to wipe sweat from his forehead, leaving two gray streaks across his face—looking a bit ridiculous.
He caught his breath and turned to Orange Candy.
“How’d you do?”
Despite her appearance as a little girl, Orange Candy was clearly much less affected than Wen Jianyan.
Her face was dark: “Not great.”
She raised her hand.
Something silver flashed through the air, flying toward Wen Jianyan. He caught it reflexively.
It was a badge.
Still slick with black ooze that hadn’t been cleaned off. The moment it touched his fingers, his SAN value started to ripple again.
Wen Jianyan quickly shifted his grip and wiped it clean with his sleeve.
He studied the badge, then looked up: “Only one?”
Orange Candy’s face turned sour. “Yeah.”
“…”
Oof.
Wen Jianyan lowered his head, frowning as he examined the badge.
Compared to yesterday, this really was… bad.
Yesterday they were still figuring out monster patterns, working more cautiously. Today, they stayed longer, faced more monsters, and worked three times as hard—
But all they got was one badge.
That was a massive drop in yield.
While he was deep in thought, Orange Candy suddenly jumped up and glared at Wen Jianyan, teeth clenched:
“Again!”
She refused to believe they’d fail a third time.
Wen Jianyan stared at her—so full of renewed determination—and regretted it.
She was… maybe a little too motivated.
Under Orange Candy’s insistence, they entered the movie a third time.
This time, she fought viciously, using every item in her arsenal without hesitation. Wen Jianyan trailed behind, wincing with heartache just watching all the precious tools being spent.
The stench of rot was so strong it burned their eyes. The ground was soaked in black fluid.
Burn marks were everywhere.
Orange Candy stood up, face grim.
She held a sword nearly as tall as she was, its tip dripping with putrid black blood. The monster she’d just killed had dissolved into liquid, just like the previous ones.
“Still nothing?” Wen Jianyan asked.
“Nope.” Orange Candy flicked the blade, sneering.
Even fewer results than last time.
They’d wasted a ton of rare items, and didn’t find a single badge.
Other than the two they’d gotten yesterday, they’d entered the movie several times today—for almost no return.
It was deeply frustrating.
Wen Jianyan lowered his eyes, his face cast in shadow, hiding his expression.
Suddenly, something occurred to him. He looked around and said:
“This time… the monster count didn’t go up again after the clearing.”
Orange Candy blinked.
He was right.
She stared toward a particular corner, frowning uncertainly:
“Hey, do you hear something over there?”
The cafeteria was huge and mostly swallowed by darkness. Normal light couldn’t pierce it, only barely outlining shapes.
From the far end, deep among the tables and chairs, came a faint rustling.
Very soft, very far—almost inaudible if you didn’t focus.
Wen Jianyan held his breath and listened.
“Maybe?”
But it didn’t sound like footsteps, or anything else familiar…
Maybe it was just too far away to tell.
Just as Wen Jianyan was about to investigate further, the little girl beside him suddenly brightened—like a shark catching the scent of blood, rather than a streamer seeing a monster.
She jumped up excitedly: “Let’s go!”
“If we don’t hurry, it’ll get away!”
Without waiting, Orange Candy grabbed her sword and bounced off into the dark.
Wen Jianyan: “……”
Hmm… having an overly enthusiastic teammate wasn’t necessarily a good thing either.
He sighed helplessly but didn’t forget his limp-acting setup. He turned off the flashlight and hobbled after her.
In the darkness, as they drew closer to the sound, that strange noise gradually amplified—soft and scratchy, echoing in the empty space. Its source was hard to pinpoint, yet it sent chills down the spine.
Suddenly, his eyes—adjusted to the darkness—caught a faint glimmer.
Wen Jianyan paused in his steps.
The monsters in this instance wouldn’t actively generate light.
Up ahead, Orange Candy’s voice came, low and deliberate: “Shh.”
Then, something was handed to him in the dark.
Wen Jianyan carefully accepted it, feeling around to identify it. It felt like… glasses?
“Put them on,” Orange Candy ordered with a tone that allowed no argument.
Wen Jianyan obediently put on the glasses, and the moment they settled on his nose, the suffocating darkness before him faded.
It wasn’t as clear as daylight, but it was no longer pitch-black.
The scene ahead was shrouded in a grayish haze. Even from a distance, he could vaguely make out some outlines.
Wen Jianyan blinked in surprise, then quickly realized—this must be one of Orange Candy’s items.
“Look,” she said.
Following the direction of her pointing finger, Wen Jianyan looked.
His eyes first landed on the light source.
It was a phone, face-down.
The flashlight had clearly been left on. It was emitting a pale white beam, which was overwhelmed by the darkness, illuminating only a small patch around it.
A phone.
Wen Jianyan’s heart sank.
Was there another streamer?
He shifted his gaze, gradually taking in more of the surroundings.
And then he saw them—the monsters.
Unlike before, they weren’t moving. Instead, they stood frozen in place like dark shadows—motionless, soundless. Yet somehow, this stillness felt even more terrifying than when they moved.
Wen Jianyan shook his head slightly, trying to shake off the creeping cold sensation crawling over his back.
Suddenly, he noticed something.
Though the monsters weren’t moving, all of their faces… were turned in the same direction.
“……”
Wen Jianyan held his breath, his heartbeat quickening.
He slowly turned his head, following their gaze.
Roughly ten meters away, rows of tables lined the space. And at one of those tables… sat a pitch-black figure.
It was hunched over, its back rising and falling—it was unclear what it was doing.
Wen Jianyan’s chest tightened.
He realized—the faint noises he’d been hearing had been coming from that direction.
More importantly… Wen Jianyan had been in this area before. He swore that no one had been sitting at that table last time.
Beside him, Orange Candy had drawn her blade and was eyeing the nearest monster.
“Wait,” Wen Jianyan whispered urgently.
The presence of a phone meant—they weren’t the only streamers in the cafeteria.
After all, they had entered the movie multiple times now—it was highly possible that other students were also in the instance to complete their elective assignment.
If that were the case, then the current situation may have been triggered by someone else.
A thought clicked into place in Wen Jianyan’s mind.
Orange Candy paused and looked over, raising an eyebrow questioningly.
Wen Jianyan leaned in and whispered something to her.
Orange Candy gripped her blade, hesitating. “….”
Wen Jianyan blinked and said sweetly:
“Please?”
Orange Candy glanced at the nearest monster, struggling for a moment before reluctantly letting go of her weapon:
“Fine.”
—
In the dark cafeteria, Wen Jianyan sat in one of the chairs, writing rapidly on a piece of paper by feel.
This was his film appreciation homework.
Title:
Reflections on “A Day in the Life Wang Ni”: Why Horror Movie Bathrooms Must Have Stalls
In the “Integrity First” live room barrage:
“……”
“Classic Wen Jianyan.”
Orange Candy was not beside him.
Instead, sitting neatly on a chair nearby was a crooked little cloth doll.
Soon, the familiar dragging footsteps echoed from the darkness.
The air temperature dropped rapidly. A sinister chill spread out like razors slicing across exposed skin, bringing a stinging pain.
The pen scratched against the paper with soft rustling.
In the distance, ghostly figures stirred. Their bloated bodies, once still, began to move. They turned, no longer all facing the same direction, and began walking toward him with stiff, slow steps.
The air grew rank with the stench of decay.
Sweat seeped into Wen Jianyan’s palms, but his pen never stopped moving.
The shadows loomed closer.
But just before they reached him, the monsters turned—and instead, headed toward the doll sitting on the chair.
It was a decoy doll.
Wen Jianyan had used one before.
It carried the scent of a human, so in critical moments, a streamer could throw it out to draw monsters away.
One, two, three…
The bloated corpses were lured away from their original positions, closing in on the doll.
The previously crowded area began to empty.
Now!
A wall of flames erupted with a whoosh, momentarily blocking Wen Jianyan’s view.
Through the flickering blaze, he could just glimpse a phantom-like silhouette in the back—
It was Orange Candy.
At the same time, Wen Jianyan dropped his pen.
He bolted from his seat, sprinting toward the table where someone was sitting.
The cold air cut at his face. His ankle throbbed in pain, but he didn’t slow down. His movements were swift and agile, like someone hardened by countless battles—his shadow darting through the darkness.
In a flash, he was within reach.
With the help of the special glasses, Wen Jianyan saw the scene more clearly.
The long, low cafeteria table was in disarray, covered in black, foul-smelling water. Lying in the middle of it—
A human corpse, stomach ripped open.
Blood was everywhere. Organs spilled out, mixed with thick black goo. The bloodless face was contorted in terror, and wide, lifeless eyes stared blankly at the ceiling.
“!”
Wen Jianyan’s stomach churned.
He recognized that face.
It was one of the streamers who had entered Wang Ni’s Day with them earlier.
He remembered—her name was Jiang Yu.
She’d helped him disguise himself to sneak into the dorm building. She had proudly bragged about her makeup skills and even promised to do a better job next time.
But now… she was dead.
And her dismembered body lay right in front of him.
At the table sat a small, hunched figure.
It looked… like a girl.
Her head hung low, long hair hiding her face. Her body swayed slightly back and forth, making soft crunching and grinding noises, like she was endlessly chewing on something.
Wen Jianyan didn’t need to think—he knew who this was.
Wang Ni.
Just like in the last movie instance, though they entered as part of completing the “assignment,” the true main character—like “Richard”—only appeared under certain conditions. Clearly, this movie’s titular character, “Wang Ni,” followed the same rule.
That’s why, even though Wen Jianyan had searched this area thoroughly before, he had never seen her—until now.
Suddenly, a faint giggle came from behind him.
It sounded like a girl’s soft laugh.
Thump.
Something rolled and bumped into Wen Jianyan’s foot.
He looked down—and locked eyes with a familiar pair of dark, eerie eyeballs.
A severed head lay by his foot, pale face twisted in a grotesque grin. Its mouth split wide open, smiling eerily: “Heehee.”
In front of him, Wang Ni had stopped moving.
The chewing sounds were gone. Now, only the rusty “ka-ka” sound of a neck twisting echoed in the air.
Oh no!!!
In that instant, Wen Jianyan realized the danger.
He turned to run.
But from under the table, a pair of pale, cold hands suddenly shot out and grabbed his ankle tightly.
“!!”
Wen Jianyan gasped sharply. His entire body was yanked down and slammed against the floor.
Dizzy from the impact, he noticed burn scars on the hands gripping him—ugly and twisted from the fire.
Nearby, something rolled with a rumbling sound.
Thump… thump…
That pale, horrific face rolled closer—stopping just inches from his own. Its mouth widened in a smile, giggling unnaturally.
The next moment, countless overlapping laughter erupted around him.
The laughs layered, louder and louder, becoming a crashing wave of sound that crushed down on Wen Jianyan. The coldness seeped in from all sides, and the darkness trembled.
The face twitched and twisted—
Becoming familiar.
“Heehee… I see you now.”
Chu Chu’s head said.
