Anchor Hall
Chapter 533: Glug glug
“Hey, hey, don’t look at me like that.”
As if noticing the distance in Wen Jianyan’s eyes, Figaro spread his empty hands, indicating he posed no threat.
“I did accept the Oracle’s task, but this is the anchor Hall—I won’t make a move here.”
“Moreover, I’ve always believed one thing…”
Figaro narrowed his long, slender eyes, a cunning fox-like smile appearing on his face. “There are no eternal friends, nor eternal enemies.”
With that, he leaned forward, and a gilt card appeared between his fingers as if by magic. However, this time, Figaro didn’t hand the business card to Wen Jianyan but directly tucked it into the pocket of his jacket.
“As long as the price is right, I’ll take any job.”
“For you,” Figaro stepped back, once again distancing himself from Wen Jianyan, a gleam flickering in the depths of his narrow, upturned eyes, “I can offer a twenty percent discount on the first order.”
He raised his hand and elegantly touched the brim of his hat, saying:
“Ciao.” (Goodbye)
With that, Figaro turned and left. However, this time he didn’t return to the gambling table from earlier but walked straight toward the distance. In the blink of an eye, his figure was swallowed by darkness, and even his footsteps vanished without a trace.
Wen Jianyan couldn’t help but freeze.
“…”
He paused, then reached out to pull out the business card that had been placed in his jacket pocket.
There was almost no text on it, only a few small golden English words in the corner.
Shylock.
The back of the card bore his contact information in the same font.
…As expected.
Wen Jianyan’s gaze lingered on that line of English for a few seconds.
Not Sherlock.
Shylock.
Just as he had initially guessed, the source of the other’s code name wasn’t from that famous detective novel, but from that Jewish merchant who wanted a pound of flesh from his debtor.
Chang Feiyu’s voice of admiration reached his ears:
“Wow… To be honest, I’ve rarely seen Figaro introduce his real name instead of his code name on first meeting. He really values you, President.”
Real name?
Wen Jianyan let out a light snort.
Figaro.
From Mozart’s famous comedy “The Marriage of Figaro”—how could it possibly be a real name?
But speaking of which, this guy was really excessively fond of theater. Not only did his code name come from theater, but even his so-called “real name” under the code name was the same.
Never showing his true face.
A truly authentic mercenary style.
Wen Jianyan paused in his movements.
…Though he seemed to have no right to condemn the other on this point.
After thinking it over, he ultimately didn’t throw away the business card but tucked it back into his jacket pocket.
Having the contact information of an unprincipled mercenary wasn’t necessarily a bad thing for him.
It might come in handy someday.
“By the way,” Wen Jianyan turned his head to look at Chang Feiyu, “have you completed your task?”
Chang Feiyu scratched the back of his head: “I have. What’s wrong?”
So he had gambled already.
However, Chang Feiyu’s situation was different from the others—he wasn’t boarding the ship for the first time and could even be considered a regular here.
His thoughts turned over in his mind as Wen Jianyan looked up at him:
“Turn off your livestream and come with me.”
Wen Jianyan led Chang Feiyu away from the casino. As they walked, he told him about his discoveries in the most concise language.
Chang Feiyu was obviously shocked by his conclusion and instinctively looked up toward that screen:
“What…”
He narrowed his eyes, showing a thoughtful expression: “I was wondering why my luck was so good today. So that’s how it is.”
Wen Jianyan glanced at him and said coldly: “Nightmare’s motives are currently unclear. Don’t try to make a quick profit.”
“Hahaha! I really can’t hide anything from you, President!” Chang Feiyu laughed heartily and scratched his cheek somewhat sheepishly. “Alright, alright, I understand the seriousness of the issue. Getting involved at a time like this would be crazy.”
Wen Jianyan: “However, I do have some things to ask you.”
Chang Feiyu looked a bit surprised: “Me?”
Wen Jianyan: “Yes.”
Though confused, Chang Feiyu still nodded: “Alright, go ahead and ask, President.”
“Do you know about the auction below?” Wen Jianyan got straight to the point.
“…” Chang Feiyu looked at Wen Jianyan quietly for a few seconds before cautiously answering, “A little bit.”
Wen Jianyan: “Tell me about it.”
“As you know, this isn’t my first time on the ship,” Chang Feiyu said. “I’ve come several times before, basically always with my former boss—the one from just now. We usually stay on the ship for three to seven days. During that time, he goes down to participate in the auction, but I don’t follow him during those periods.”
Chang Feiyu shrugged: “After all, I haven’t reached the level where I can get an invitation.”
Wen Jianyan listened quietly.
“As far as I know, the high threshold for participating in the auction is one aspect,” Chang Feiyu hesitated but continued, “but whether you can actually buy something after participating is another matter entirely.”
Wen Jianyan looked up at him: “What do you mean?”
“Well…” Chang Feiyu rubbed his chin. “As far as I know, my former boss has bottomless pockets. If he wanted, he could compete for a top ten position at any time, but he has no interest in that—according to his theory, being too conspicuous is actually detrimental to doing business. That Miss Orange Candy is a negative example.”
Wen Jianyan: “…”
Yes, he clearly remembered the resentment in Orange Candy’s tone when introducing this person—the reason being that the other’s business was much better than hers.
“But even so, he occasionally encounters items he can’t win even through competitive bidding.”
Chang Feiyu lowered his eyes. Beneath that carefree, sunny face lay a few traces of deep calculation. “So I suspect the auction below has some unknown rules… but as for what exactly they are, I’m not clear.”
“Oh right, besides that, there’s one more thing you might be interested in,” Chang Feiyu looked up at Wen Jianyan and said, “You can consign items at the auction below.”
“Oh?” Wen Jianyan raised an eyebrow.
“Epic-level items are generally bound directly after acquisition and cannot be sold,” Chang Feiyu said. “But the underground auction is different… anything you want to sell can be consigned at the auction, without being constrained by Nightmare’s rules.”
Wen Jianyan nodded, showing a thoughtful expression.
“Well, that’s about all I know.” Chang Feiyu spread his hands helplessly. “After all, I’ve never been down there. Much of this is just my speculation… President, take it with a grain of salt.”
He looked at Wen Jianyan, observing his expression carefully. “What, are you planning to participate in this auction, President?”
“Mm.”
Wen Jianyan had no intention of hiding it from him and nodded directly.
He looked in the direction where Figaro had disappeared and said:
“I suppose your former boss boarded the ship this time to participate in the auction as well?”
“Should be.” Chang Feiyu nodded and sighed. “I hope what you and he are after aren’t the same item… Though I don’t really want to badmouth my old employer, he’s very much like a vulture or hyena in this regard. Once he sets his sights on something, he won’t let go. He rarely fails.”
Wen Jianyan said nonchalantly: “But it’s not like he’s never failed.”
“…” Chang Feiyu froze, then slowly smiled after a few seconds. “You’re right.”
After finding and bringing Chang Feiyu out from the casino, the others had also completed their public tasks and returned to the meeting point one after another—just as Wen Jianyan had instructed, they stopped immediately after completing their tasks and didn’t play even one more round.
Wen Jianyan: “How much livestream time do you all have left?”
Everyone reported their remaining time. Some had three hours left, while the shortest only had about forty minutes remaining.
Progress on private tasks also varied—some had only one or two left, while others still had four or five.
“Alright, then continue,” Wen Jianyan stretched lazily, showing a trace of fatigue on his face. “—Stay away from the casino, don’t do any related tasks, and from now on you must move as a group. Got it?”
Everyone nodded.
“Good then,” Wen Jianyan waved at them lazily. “See you tomorrow.”
With that, he turned around and walked away in a leisurely manner.
Wen Jianyan returned to the casino.
Passing through gambling tables filled with enthusiastic players, he came to the bar.
Wen Jianyan curled his finger and lightly knocked on the counter with his knuckle: “Hey.”
The black-haired, golden-eyed “attendant” seemed to have been waiting here all along.
He leaned down, his tone intimate. “What can I do for you, guest?”
Wen Jianyan propped up his chin and glanced at the other, a faint smile appearing at the corner of his lips: “What time do you get off work?”
“…Right now, if you wish.” The other’s pupil color deepened.
“That’s perfect then.” Wen Jianyan chuckled lightly. He leaned forward and skillfully retrieved a bottle of gin from behind the bar, pouring himself half a glass. “Come on, let me show you around downstairs.”
Wu Zhu smiled silently.
He walked around the bar and went straight to Wen Jianyan’s side.
Though people were coming and going all around them, not a single person seemed to notice this uniformed attendant leaving his post so independently.
Wen Jianyan had long since grown accustomed to this. He nimbly wove through the crowd, heading in the direction he remembered.
Soon, that elevator appeared not far away.
In the noisy casino, that rusty iron door looked particularly out of place. Inside, the elevator’s interior walls were blood-red, and a pale-skinned attendant stood with a smile on his face.
Everything seemed incompatible with the surroundings.
Wen Jianyan glanced at Wu Zhu beside him:
“…Don’t get lost.”
With that, he withdrew his gaze and walked straight toward the elevator.
“Clatter clatter.”
The iron door at the elevator entrance made metallic collision sounds. Under the cold light, the smile on the attendant’s face looked increasingly eerie and disturbing.
“Esteemed guest, are you going downstairs?”
Wen Jianyan hummed in acknowledgment and stepped inside without hesitation. A cold sensation, completely opposite to the heat of the casino, rushed toward him.
Wu Zhu followed beside him and also entered.
But the attendant seemed not to notice the presence of a second person.
“Which floor would you like to go to?” he asked.
Wen Jianyan: “Negative eighteenth floor.”
Since Wu Zhu also didn’t know the exact location of the item, they might as well search floor by floor. He had plenty of time now anyway.
“I’m sorry, you need a room card to enter the accommodation area.”
Wen Jianyan showed a thoughtful expression.
Indeed, Kalbel had told him about this, but he hadn’t expected that without a room card, he couldn’t even make the elevator stop on those floors.
In that case, floors negative eight through negative eighteen were all inaccessible.
“Then go to negative first floor.”
“Certainly, please wait.” The attendant smiled and pressed the [-1] button.
Accompanied by the familiar sound of mechanical operation, the elevator began descending.
Soon, they reached the negative first floor.
A huge casino appeared before Wen Jianyan—however, unlike the bustling scene upstairs, this place seemed very deserted, so quiet it was somewhat uncomfortable.
“Negative first floor. Please watch your step.”
Wen Jianyan nodded perfunctorily and walked out.
“Is it here?” he asked.
Wu Zhu: “Not here.”
“Then let’s go to the next floor.” Wen Jianyan turned around and took a sip from his glass.
He frowned.
“…Ah, forgot to add ice.”
Wu Zhu glanced at him.
Just as Wen Jianyan was about to continue forward, a pale hand with distinct knuckles reached over from the side, tapping the glass lightly with a fingertip as shadows covered it.
“Clink”—a crisp collision sound rang out.
Wen Jianyan froze and looked down. A perfectly smooth, transparent ice sphere had appeared in the liquid in his glass.
“You have this function too?”
Looking at that ice sphere that appeared out of nowhere, Wen Jianyan’s pupils dilated in shock, utterly astonished.
A living ice maker?!
“…”
Wu Zhu pointed toward the bar deep in the casino. The black shadows writhing at his feet gradually retracted and finally merged back into his shadow: “Stole it from over there.”
He narrowed his golden eyes and looked over with a half-smile: “Guest, not satisfied?”
Wen Jianyan: “…No.”
He silently took a sip from his glass and looked away.
After a brief pause on the negative first floor, the two returned to the elevator.
The elevator was very quiet. Only the creaking sound of mechanical operation could be heard. The attendant stood facing the iron door with his back to them, while Wu Zhu stood beside Wen Jianyan. The distance between them wasn’t close, but it certainly wasn’t far either.
Wen Jianyan’s elbow wasn’t covered by fabric, and the rough material of the other’s uniform occasionally brushed against his skin.
“…”
He lowered his head, took a sip of the cold gin in his glass, and inconspicuously shifted a bit to the side.
For some reason, this elevator suddenly seemed to have become somewhat too crowded.
The elevator descended floor by floor.
Each time they stopped at a floor, Wen Jianyan would exit the elevator and stand for a few seconds, but each time Wu Zhu’s answer was the same—”Not here.”
Finally, the elevator reached the negative seventh floor.
This was also the lowest floor Wen Jianyan could access.
“Negative seventh floor. Please watch your step.”
The iron door clattered open, and the attendant’s face wore an unchanging smile.
Outside the door was blood-red thick carpet and a huge, spacious hall—just like when he came last time, it was empty this time as well. Even Kalbel, who had received him before, wasn’t there.
Wen Jianyan exited the elevator. As he walked forward, he asked somewhat helplessly:
“What about here? Still nothing?”
“…”
No response came.
Wen Jianyan froze and turned his head toward Wu Zhu.
The tall man in the attendant uniform had stopped walking at some point. He raised his head, his golden pupils flickering with an unusual color, expressionlessly staring at the huge portrait hanging on the wall.
There was more than one portrait.
Each painting was richly colored yet had blurred features. Everything above the shoulders was hidden in darkness—no gender, no characteristics, nothing visible except pairs of clasped, pale hands.
“Is this what you’re looking for?” Wen Jianyan showed a surprised expression.
Wu Zhu paused for a few seconds.
“No.”
He shook his head, his voice low and cold: “The item isn’t on this floor.”
“…”
Wen Jianyan stared at Wu Zhu’s profile for a few seconds, then suddenly asked, “Do you know who’s in the paintings?”
Wu Zhu withdrew his gaze. He looked at Wen Jianyan, a trace of dark, cold emotion remaining in his eyes:
“I don’t know.”
The humanized expression from when he was stealing ice earlier had completely disappeared from his face.
Standing before Wen Jianyan now was like the Wu Zhu from the first instance. Rather than human, he was more like a beast wearing human skin. The eeriness, terror, and cruelty unique to otherworldly beings seemed ready to break through the constraints of his skin at any moment, revealing without reservation a chilling, ferocious appearance.
A complete and thorough inhuman being.
“…What a pity.” His tone showed no inflection.
At his feet, shadows stirred restlessly, madly expanding and invading outward.
A familiar trembling sensation spread from deep in his spinal cord. Wen Jianyan’s body tensed slightly, and his fingers gripping the glass unconsciously tightened.
“Clink.”
The ice sphere hit the glass wall with a crisp sound.
Wen Jianyan snapped back to attention.
“Not here?” His tone remained calm and composed. “Then let’s go.”
With that, he stepped forward and proactively grasped Wu Zhu’s wrist.
The other’s skin was very cold, vastly different from human temperature, like some kind of cold-blooded creature.
“…”
Wu Zhu froze. His eyeballs moved slightly, slowly lowering as his gaze fell on the hand grasping his own.
The human’s hand was slender and strong, with warm fingertips and palm. The skin was very pale, presenting a beautiful ivory color under the light.
He stood in place, suddenly seeming somewhat bewildered.
“Let’s go.” Wen Jianyan urged. “What are you standing there for?”
“…”
After a few seconds, Wu Zhu said “Oh.”
He allowed himself to be pulled along and stepped forward.
The beast retracted its claws and fangs, silently retreating deep into its human skin.
It curled up, a gurgling sound coming from deep in its belly.
Wen Jianyan returned to his cabin.
It was already quite late. Outside on the balcony, the last traces of sunset had disappeared over the ocean. The area near the ship had descended into ink-like darkness, and the sky had turned a deep, somber blue. Everything was enveloped in boundless, endless darkness.
Wen Jianyan threw himself heavily onto the bed, limbs spread out, burying his head in the pillow.
“Sigh…”
He let out a muffled sigh into the pillow.
Originally, the purpose of boarding the ship this time was to take a vacation, but due to the unexpected start of this reality show, everything seemed to have become unpredictable once again… Though the surface still seemed peaceful, beneath that seemingly calm sea surface lurked treacherous undercurrents—elusive, silent, swirling unpredictably, becoming more frightening due to their unknown nature.
And those paintings on the negative seventh floor…
Wen Jianyan turned over and stared at the ceiling in the darkness, falling into contemplation.
Wu Zhu’s reaction wasn’t quite right.
Could the people in the paintings be related to him?
But there were several people in the paintings, and Wu Zhu didn’t seem to show any specific targeting. It didn’t seem like he was going after any particular individual.
He didn’t know if it was his imagination, but these paintings bore some resemblance to those in the deep corridor of the [Xingwang Hotel] instance, yet seemed fundamentally different in some sense.
Who were the people in the paintings? And why were these paintings hung in Nightmare’s Livestream anchor Hall, in the underground auction hall of the Lucky cruise ship?
Or perhaps…
None of this was related to the people in the paintings—the painter was the key?
No good, couldn’t figure it out.
Wen Jianyan let out a long sigh.
Headache.
In any case, he simply couldn’t get a good vacation!
He pulled over a pillow from the side and pressed it over his head.
Forget it, better just sleep.
Perhaps because too many things had happened today, drowsiness quickly emerged. Powerful fatigue gripped him firmly, dragging him toward darkness.
In a daze, a strange thought suddenly arose.
Was it his imagination?
He felt like he’d forgotten something…
Probably not, right?
–
A boy with snow-white hair and skin crouched in a corner, seemingly waiting for something.
He tilted his head, staring blankly in the direction where Wen Jianyan had disappeared.
It had been so long.
Why wasn’t he back yet?
Didn’t he say they would play cards together?
Author’s Note:
Wen Jianyan: Standing someone up
