Chapter 12: Ridiculous, shoddy town

Zhang Guan’s brow furrowed deeply. “This is for your own safety. You need to take responsibility for your life. Are you seriously telling me you’ve never imagined a specific scenario that terrifies you?”

Sang Chen suddenly felt like he was facing down the company chairman. He shrank into the white fur collar of his down jacket and racked his brain. “The early bird gets shot,” he muttered. “When I was a kid, I saw a bird try to fly out of a cage first. It got shot.”

Well, that was barely acceptable.

Mao Ziyu nodded. “Alright, then. While we’re in Xiangyang Town, you should avoid being at the front when we move.”

He thought about it and realized Sang Chen had never actually been at the front anyway. That was reassuring.

Following the clockwise order, the next one up was Yan Mo.

Yan Mo yawned. “Waking up and realizing I didn’t get enough sleep.”

“……”

Great. One of them is scared of oversleeping, and the other is terrified of not getting enough sleep. Between the two of them, they’ve got the whole 24-hour cycle covered.

Mao Ziyu sighed. “Come on, man, at least give me something decent. Even saying ‘getting chased around a game city by female players’ would be better.”

Yan Mo actually put some effort into his next response. “Let me rephrase. What I fear isn’t just waking up—it’s waking up because something woke me up. Not naturally waking up.”

“……”

The others stared at him in disbelief, but Sang Chen considered the possibility. Maybe this guy really was just a perpetually exhausted slacker. Maybe all that effortless confidence, that cool, collected attitude—maybe it was just because he was too tired to care. He just wanted to sleep.

Zhang Guan, his thick black brows drawn together, moved things along. “Next.”

The next one was a model student, Gu Ziyan, who had already prepared her answer. “I have a lot of fears, but I picked the two that fit this town the best.”

“The first one: when I sleep alone, I can’t have two pillows on the bed. It always feels like there’s going to be a ghostly head on the second one. Also, when I use face wash or makeup remover with my eyes closed, I get the feeling that a ghost is watching me.”

She had spoken so much in one breath that she was now gasping for air in the thin atmosphere. After a few deep breaths, she continued.

“The second one: using a hairdryer. I once stayed in a hotel with a crappy hairdryer, and it sucked in a bit of my hair. That night, I had a nightmare where the whole thing pulled in all my hair—scalp and all.”

As she spoke, she shuddered. Just that morning, she had felt uncomfortable and wanted to wash up. If Mao Ziyu hadn’t stopped her, she might have ended up dying in exactly that way. It would have been just as gruesome as the other three deaths.

Gu Ziyan shot Mao Ziyu a grateful look.

Mao Ziyu blushed under her gaze. “Miss Gu, my beautiful lady, don’t worry. I’ll go collect all the hairdryers later. As for the ghost head… uh, well, you definitely don’t need to worry about that.”

Gu Ziyan: “…Thanks.”

Sang Chen: “……”

Yeah, with these two around, ghosts weren’t really a concern.

Next up was Bei Tongyu. She had already experienced her greatest fear and lived to tell the tale. By all accounts, she should be the safest player in town. Still, just in case, she shared one more fear.

“This one’s kind of like what happened to the first player who died. When I was a kid, I used to stick my chopsticks straight into my bowl of rice while eating. My brother loved smacking me on the head. I was always terrified that one day he’d hit me at the wrong moment, and I’d end up with chopsticks spearing through my nostrils and into my skull.”

As she spoke, she pinched her nose, still a little shaken. Even though she knew now that chopsticks wouldn’t actually pierce a human skull, this was Xiangyang Town. Ceiling fans weren’t supposed to be able to slice through bone either.

Back at the mall during lunch, their team leader had warned them not to use chopsticks, forks, or other sharp objects. If she had ignored that advice, she might not be here right now.

Next was Chang Ting. He said, “I have a fear of heights. I get especially nervous around high-rise balconies and deep terraces. I always feel like they’re going to crack, and I’ll fall. Oh, and I’m also a little freaked out by long fingernails. Just imagining getting slapped and having my eyeball scratched out…”

“……”

This man had a story behind that fear.

Gu Ziyan instinctively pulled her freshly manicured nails back into her coat sleeves.

Then came Zhang Guan. Everyone was curious about what kind of fear their serious team leader would have.

After a long pause, Zhang Guan finally said, “I have a bit of a health paranoia. I’m always afraid I’ve developed some kind of incurable disease.”

“……”

That’s… oddly down-to-earth.

Maybe he had been spending too much time self-diagnosing on the internet?

Last up was Mao Ziyu. Without hesitation, he declared, “I’m afraid I won’t have enough love to give to all the people who adore me. I also worry that if someone loves me too much, it could cause… disharmony.”

“……”

Everyone collectively ignored him.

To wrap things up, Zhang Guan asked if anyone had picked up new fears after listening to the others. If so, they needed to be cautious together.

Some people didn’t, like how no one was even remotely concerned about Mao Ziyu, Sang Chen, or Yan Mo’s fears.

But some did. For instance, Bei Tongyu, who also had long hair, now felt a little uneasy about hairdryers after hearing Gu Ziyan’s story.

After finishing their final tally, they moved on to eliminating potential hazards.

The guys got to work burning chopsticks, sealing off hairdryers, barricading balconies, and even stuffing cotton into Fang Jing’s ears.

By the time they were done, the sky was starting to darken.

At Sang Chen’s house, only Gu Ziyan’s hairdryer needed dealing with, so Zhang Guan’s team didn’t have to help.

At the door, Chang Ting glanced at the empty street outside. Not a single other player was in sight. He scoffed, “Should we even bother telling them the death rules? We risked our lives figuring them out. I don’t feel like sharing with a bunch of selfish cowards.”

Mao Ziyu’s eyes curved with a smile. “If someone asks, we tell them. If no one asks, we don’t bother.”

Most of the selfish players had already holed up in whatever they considered safe spots. They wouldn’t even show their faces, let alone ask questions. And if someone did ask, well, at least that meant they were willing to engage with the game.

Chang Ting backed the decision, feeling a bit better.

The thickening mist cloaked Xiangyang Town like a layer of ash settling after a fire, stretching everything into a distant, hazy blur. Breathing became slow and heavy.

The four of them moved forward in pairs, the suffocating atmosphere pressing down on them.

Gu Ziyan covered her mouth and coughed twice. “This is awful.”

Struggling to breathe was bad enough. The dizziness and headaches that came with it made it worse. And then there was the psychological burden—an inexplicable sense of oppression, a faint, lingering sorrow.

Beside her, Mao Ziyu said, “Hang in there. We’re getting out soon. Almost there.”

Gu Ziyan hummed in response, then turned to check on the most fragile-looking person behind her. “Sang Chen, how are you holding up?”

With no one watching him from behind, Sang Chen kept his eyes moving, scanning every inch of the town. “I’m fine.”

From the moment they arrived, he had felt his breathing wasn’t quite right. Now, it wasn’t just that—it was as if his mind had been wrapped in fog. His thoughts were sluggish, his head heavy. He couldn’t think as clearly or as quickly as usual. But he had no intention of making Gu Ziyan worry more. “We should be close to the truth now.”

Gu Ziyan let out another quiet “mm” and was just about to pull something from her pocket when someone suddenly called her name.

She thought she was hearing things. But then the voice came again, clearer this time: “Gu Ziyan!”

Sang Chen and the others heard it too. A man ran toward them from behind—it was the same guy who had boarded the time-traveling train with them.

The man was all muscle, built like a tank. The moment they entered the town, he had taken the initiative to join a team. They hadn’t seen him since.

“Do you… do you guys know what’s going on?” The man was out of breath, taking a moment to steady himself before speaking.

Neither Sang Chen nor Gu Ziyan knew if they should tell him. The ones who had the right to decide that were Bei Tongyu, Mao Ziyu, and Zhang Guan—the ones who had cracked the case and saved her.

The man hesitated for a moment before admitting, “Honestly, they sent me to ask. Yesterday, our team leader—something happened to him. Everyone’s freaking out. When they saw you just now, they told me to come ask.”

Mao Ziyu asked, “Was your captain the older guy?”

Sang Chen also remembered him. Back on the train, there had been an old man behind him, muttering something under his breath—either a prayer or some kind of chewing noise. This guy had joined that old man’s team. There was another person in that group who had stuck in Sang Chen’s memory—the woman who kept fixing her makeup.

The man immediately nodded. “Yeah! Our captain’s name was Hou Yingxin.”

“What happened to him?” Mao Ziyu asked, then waved a hand. “Never mind, don’t strain yourself. We’ll come take a look.”

Sang Chen wanted to go too. He was curious to see how their house was furnished.

Gu Ziyan wasn’t feeling well and didn’t want to move anymore. She stayed behind with Yan Mo, who, unsurprisingly, also had zero interest in going. Before they left, she warned, “Sang Chen, do not put yourself out there.”

Mao Ziyu flashed her a wink. “Relax, I won’t let him.”

Then, without hesitation, he grabbed Sang Chen’s wrist.

Sang Chen: “…”

Why did the players in this game keep grabbing people by the wrist?

First, Chang Ting had clamped onto him so tightly he didn’t even bother struggling. Now, it was Mao Ziyu—not as forceful, but with an obvious intent to keep holding on.

Mao Ziyu grinned, pulling Sang Chen a little closer. “Sang Chen, do a lot of people like you? Are you constantly swarmed by admirers?”

Sang Chen: “…No.”

Mao Ziyu shook his head. “Impossible. Even I can’t resist being drawn to you.”

That’s because you’re a hopeless romantic. Sang Chen lowered his lashes but kept the thought to himself. No way he was arguing with this guy.

Under the weight of the muscular man’s strange gaze, Mao Ziyu led Sang Chen inside the house.

The moment they stepped in, Sang Chen was struck by the interior design. It wasn’t the same as the place they were staying, but it was identical to the home of the player with the long orange tree—it was a perfect copy. Every bit of carved mahogany furniture was packed tightly into the small space, oppressive and overbearing.

The whole place had the aesthetic of an elderly homeowner—heavy red wood everywhere, from the sofas to the coffee table to the wall panels and door frames.

Sang Chen stood frozen in the doorway for a long time. Maybe his mind wasn’t fully clear, but instead of looking for patterns in the layouts, all he could think about was how absurd it all was—how cheaply and carelessly this whole town had been thrown together.

Would the next house be the same? Just another copy-paste job, repeating one of the three interior styles he had already seen?