Chapter 10: How is her health?

The player broke down and shouted, “Guys, what the hell is going on?!”

They had thought that staying put in a safe place would keep them out of harm’s way. No movement, no danger—simple as that. But now? Even lying in bed wasn’t safe. Fear of death had them completely paralyzed, their minds on the verge of collapse.

Chang Ting was just as shaken. “Who the hell is supposed to know what’s happening?!”

Each case was stranger than the last. Just when they thought they had found a pattern, another death would pop up that shattered their theory. Every step forward only led to more dead ends.

Putting aside the bizarre nature of the deaths, Sang Chen asked, “Why an orange tree?”

One of the players quickly responded, “This morning at the mall, our captain ate an orange. But—but I ate one too! Oh god, does that mean I’m going to die too?!”

Mao Ziyu rubbed his temples, unconsciously leaning a little closer to Sang Chen. He wanted to sigh.

Eat an orange, and an orange tree starts growing inside you? What kind of nightmare logic was this?

How exactly was death happening? And more importantly—how could they prevent it?

Zhang Guan frowned. “Sorry, we don’t have the answers either. We’re trying to piece things together, just like you. But you should’ve realized by now—staying in one place isn’t safe.”

The male player looked visibly disappointed. He turned his head away, ignoring Zhang Guan’s suggestion to search for more clues.

Sure, staying put wasn’t safe. But going out looking for answers? That was practically begging for death. Given the choice between a risk they could see and one they couldn’t, they were sticking with the lesser evil.

Besides, plenty of other people were hiding too. Why should they be the ones to take the risk?

With nothing more to say, both teams silently parted ways.

As they left the captain’s room and headed toward the exit, Sang Chen glanced into the living room.

The thick fog outside cast an eerie gloom over the space. With no lights on, the room was dim, and the soft glow of their phone screens wasn’t enough to cut through the darkness. It was like the last light of a dying sunset, sinking into shadow. The heavy, reddish-brown furniture loomed in the darkness—old-fashioned, oppressive.

As his eyes adjusted, he could make out more details. A lifeless-looking wooden sofa sat in the center of the room, matched by a coffee table and a dining set made of the same ominous wood. The whole place gave off a suffocating stillness.

This was the third house Sang Chen had seen in this town.

The first was their temporary residence, a simple modern-style home.

The second, where Xu Feng’s team had stayed, matched the exterior style of the town’s buildings.

And then there was this one.

The first and third houses were typical family homes. But the second? That place had been luxurious—both in décor and in the expensive-looking items inside. It didn’t belong in the same town as the other two. If all three houses had once been occupied by residents of Xiangyang Town, the wealth gap here had been enormous.

As they walked away from the house, the group fell into silence. The only sound was Gu Ziyan quietly explaining the details of the latest death to Yan Mo.

Yan Mo nodded slightly. “Mm.” Hands in his pockets, he strolled lazily behind them.

Chang Ting spoke up again, still confused. “Seriously, what the hell is going on?”

“Maybe the only way to figure it out is to save someone from dying,” Zhang Guan replied. “Stay sharp. If you see something happening, act fast. No matter what, we have to save them.”

Chang Ting and Bei Tongyu immediately responded in unison, “Got it!”

Sang Chen looked at them, a little surprised. In their team, it seemed like the members followed their captain’s orders without question. Even a phrase like “no matter what” wasn’t met with resistance. It meant that if the captain ordered them to risk their lives, they would do it without hesitation.

Judging by how in sync they were, this wasn’t the first time.

All four of them were dressed in understated black clothing, moving in perfect coordination. They trusted each other completely. Compared to Shi Jinshui’s team, they were like night and day.

Mao Ziyu glanced at them, his eyes curving into a mischievous smile. “Honestly, I kinda wanna figure out how people are dying. That way, I can take the risk myself, and you guys can rescue me. Maybe then I’ll understand the rules of death.”

Gu Ziyan muttered under his breath, “Don’t even joke about that. What if—”

“Relax, they’re good. They’ll definitely save me.”

“Relax, he’s too damn good. He won’t die.”

Mao Ziyu and Chang Ting spoke at the same time.

Gu Ziyan glanced back and forth between them. “How good are we talking here?”

Chang Ting shot Mao Ziyu a sideways look and said, “If you survive this game and go to Game City claiming to be Mao Ziyu’s friend, a lot of people will cut you some slack. But whatever you do, don’t say you’re someone he likes.”

Gu Ziyan frowned. “Why not?”

Chang Ting smirked. “Because there are too many people he supposedly likes. And way too many people who like him.”

“…”

Sang Chen thought back to last night, to that blushing ghost. He wasn’t sure how many people liked Mao Ziyu, but he was starting to think ghosts were definitely among them.

Mao Ziyu protested, “What do you mean ‘supposedly’? It’s a fact! Right, Sang Chen? Miss Gu? Don’t you both like me?”

Sang Chen and Gu Ziyan fell into synchronized silence.

The mood wasn’t so heavy anymore. After a few more jokes, the conversation died down again. The thick air made their heads feel foggy—talking too much only made it worse. They pressed on quietly toward Zhang Guan’s residence.

His team’s house was in the center-left part of town. From the outside, it looked identical to where they were staying. In fact, all the apartment buildings in town had the same exterior—only the interiors were different.

Click!

Zhang Guan switched on the living room light. The room brightened, though not by much. But the moment the light flickered on, Sang Chen noticed something shocking.

The décor…

It was almost exactly the same as the house they had stayed in the previous night.

Same layout. Same furniture. The same sofa, the same coffee table. Even the dining area was a perfect replica.

Something was seriously wrong with this town.

The small dining area was connected to the living room, as if carved out of its space. It was cramped, with a round marble table identical to the one in the living room and five matching chairs padded with soft sponge. The setup felt almost claustrophobic.

Gu Ziyan noticed it too. “Huh? This place has the exact same decor as our place!”

“Really?” Bei Tongyu said. “That happens sometimes in apartment complexes. People order furniture in bulk, buy the same materials, and get discounts. Maybe that’s what happened when these houses were renovated.”

“But even if they bought the same cabinets, wouldn’t there still be some personal touches?” Gu Ziyan frowned. “It’s too similar… Could there be a pattern?”

Bei Tongyu hesitated. “Exactly the same? Even the sofa cushions?”

Chang Ting was leading the way, carefully placing Fang Jing onto the plush fabric sofa.

“Click!”

“Too dark. Let’s turn on another light and take a closer look. Are they really identical?” Chang Ting walked to the side and switched on the dining room light.

Sang Chen’s eyes swept over the room, confirming that every detail matched their own lodging. Just as he was about to take a closer look—

“Click!”

A gust of freezing wind blew through. Before he could react, someone yanked him backward. A split second later, a cold, wet knife flew from Zhang Guan’s hand, followed immediately by a gray stone hurled from Mao Ziyu’s grasp.

“Clang!”

“Bang!”

Two heavy impacts followed in quick succession.

Sang Chen’s gaze snapped to the ceiling fan in the dining area—one of those popular models combining a fan with a light fixture. It had four warm yellow bulbs at the center, surrounded by an iron ring of blades. One switch turned on the lights; a second turned on the fan.

At the exact moment Bei Tongyu had looked up, the fan’s blades had suddenly come loose, plummeting straight toward her head and neck. If not for Zhang Guan and Mao Ziyu’s simultaneous interventions, the deadly blades would have hit their mark. Instead, they ricocheted toward Fang Jing, who lay motionless on the sofa.

Sang Chen caught a glimpse of Fang Jing’s ever-open eyes. For the briefest moment, her pupils seemed to tremble.

—

“Beep! Beep beep! Beep beep beep beep beep!!! Beep beep beep beep beep beep!—”

“Woof woof! Woof woof woof woof! Woof woof woof woof woof!—”

“Zzzzt—Zzzzt—Hello?!”

“So much blood! So much blood! They’re bleeding everywhere!”

“Ding!—Ring ring!—”

“Dead! They’re dead! They’re all dead!”

“Buzz buzz buzz! Buzz buzz buzz!—”

“What the hell are you doing?! Do you even realize what a mess you’ve made?!”

“Beep beep beep beep beep! Beep beep beep beep beep beep!!!”

“Woof woof! Woof woof woof woof woof woof!!!—”

Fang Jing clamped her hands over her ears, pressing so hard that her whole body trembled. But it wasn’t enough. She was fighting the noise with every fiber of her being, but it kept piercing through, overwhelming her senses.

Tears squeezed from the corners of her tightly shut eyes. She didn’t even know if she was sobbing—she couldn’t hear her own cries.

Shrill, frantic, terrified, furious, grief-stricken voices bombarded her from every direction, each one stabbing into her mind like a knife.

She felt like a snail without a shell, completely exposed, with nowhere to hide as the relentless noise shredded her fragile consciousness.

“Make it stop.”

“Please, make it stop.”

Even her own screams and desperate pleas were swallowed by the cacophony.

The noise was unbearable.

“This is a normal volume! If it’s not loud, how will people hear you? What’s your problem?!”

If only there were no phones.

“That’s ridiculous! How can you live without a phone? Phones connect us to the world! What, are you planning to drop out of society? Quit school? Quit work? You need the world, and the world needs you! Phones aren’t the problem!”

If only there were no sound.

“What did sound ever do to you?! Is sound really what you’re afraid of?!”

If only everything would just disappear—sound, information, sensations. Even the world itself.

Fang Jing pressed her hands harder against her ears, her body shaking violently under the assault.

“Please, let me go.”

“I don’t want to hear, don’t want to feel.”

“I don’t want to know anything.”

“I don’t want to be here.”

“I’m begging you.”

Then—silence.

Fang Jing froze. She could hear her own sobs. She could hear her own prayers.

And when those stopped, everything else vanished.

She looked around. Darkness stretched endlessly in every direction. She couldn’t see anything—not even herself.

She remained in the vast, soundless void for a long time. At first, she felt relieved. No more noise, no more torment. A deep, unprecedented peace washed over her.

She wanted to stretch out, to relax for the first time in forever. But she couldn’t feel her body.

She couldn’t feel anything at all.

A faint unease crept in.

Where was she?

Where was her body?

Her confusion deepened, and fear began to seep in, drop by drop.

No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t hear a single sound. She couldn’t sense anything. No messages, no awareness—nothing.

All she could see was an endless void of blackness. Or rather, she wasn’t sure if she was even “seeing.” Just emptiness, absolute and all-consuming.

Alone in the boundless darkness, Fang Jing instinctively tried to curl into herself. But she had no body to curl.

Then—

A sudden tremor shook the void.

What was happening?

What had happened to her body?