Chapter 3: Sang Chen Knows Something’s Off (3)

Something felt off.

Really off.

Sang Chen’s hand instinctively pressed against his stomach.

He had boarded a mysterious time-traveling train on a rainy night and ended up as a player in some eerie game. But the moment he stepped into the first round, people kept staring at his stomach like something was seriously wrong.

This was the second time he got all these weird looks, and somehow, it felt even more unsettling than the first.

What the hell was wrong with his stomach?

He pressed down on it again. It’s probably about five months along.

“…”

Sang Chen lowered his head, uncomfortable in this eerie silence.

This was way too messed up.

He was a perfectly normal, biologically male, 24-year-old man.

He had never been pregnant in his life. Hell, he hadn’t even had sex.

So, what exactly is inside him?

What kind of sick joke was this game playing?

How was he supposed to look people in the eye after this?

Mao Ziyu, looking devastated: “Who’s the father?”

The middle-aged man sitting across from him on the train gawked. “Wait, you’re a woman? A crossdressing queen? Ah… well, I guess you are kinda pretty.”

Sang Chen was both horrified and furious, but his expression remained unreadable. Calmly, he pulled his down jacket closed and said, “Ever heard of intersex people?”

“…”

He clearly remembered that his jacket had been buttoned up when he got on the train. Now, it had somehow come undone. He wasn’t sure if his stomach had pushed it open. Either way, once he fastened it again, the bump wasn’t as obvious.

That should be enough to hide the fact that his stomach had suddenly grown. Well, at least for now.

Faced with all the curious stares, Sang Chen let out a small sigh and looked a little… sorrowful. “I was on this train to find my baby’s father.”

The crowd’s gazes softened—only slightly.

In a life-or-death horror game like this, where players had already survived countless deadly rounds, gossip outweighed sympathy. Nobody had the energy to dwell on the tragic tale of a pregnant woman (or man, whatever). What mattered to them was figuring out the rules of the game.

When they got off the train, they were already standing at the entrance of Xiangyang Town.

Despite its name, there was nothing yang—nothing bright or warm—about it.

Sure, the town had colorful shopfronts, including a candy store, a bakery, and a toy shop. These were all places that should have felt welcoming. But they didn’t.

A thick, oppressive gloom hung over everything.

The overcast sky was a washed-out gray, casting a dim, stingy light over the town. No matter how much color there was, everything still looked dull and lifeless.

The sky here felt unusually low—as if pressing down on them, like they were trapped in a room with an uncomfortably low ceiling, cut off from sunlight.

It was winter in the town, too. Patches of snow, dirty and half-melted, clung stubbornly to the roadside, blending into the mud.

Sang Chen was wearing a thick down jacket, so he wasn’t cold, but something still felt off.

His breathing wasn’t as smooth as it had been on the train.

…Was it because of the whole pregnancy thing?

There’s a saying that an unborn child is essentially a parasite—the mother’s body naturally rejects it.

And in Sang Chen’s case, whatever was inside him wasn’t even a normal baby.

With that thought lingering in his mind, he stuffed his hands into his pockets, absently rubbing his stomach. It felt… bigger.

Was that just his imagination?

“…”

“No game instructions this time?” A lanky man spoke up. “I didn’t hear any system prompt. Did any of you?”

“Nope,” Mao Ziyu replied. “Let’s head inside.”

“Do we have to?” Gu Ziyan, who had just walked up beside him, hesitated. “The game didn’t tell us to go in, right?”

Mao Ziyu turned to her, his eyes curving into crescent moons as he smiled. “Miss Gu, in this game, running away is both shameful and useless.”

A few veteran players stepped inside without hesitation. The rest lingered for a moment but eventually followed.

Sang Chen, still lost in thought, continued rubbing his stomach as he walked forward. With every step, he drew closer to the Crowned Pretty Boy.

Just as Sang Chen looked up, Crowned Pretty Boy happened to glance down. He seemed like he was about to say something, but his gaze landed on Sang Chen’s stomach—and he promptly shut his mouth.

Ah…

Sang Chen suddenly realized that playing the pregnant woman card might actually work in his favor here. At least, with people who still had a shred of conscience and basic human decency.

Just like in the real world, people tend to be more considerate toward pregnant women. They hold back from saying harsh things, try not to upset them, and generally avoid refusing reasonable requests.

This guy… might just be one of those people.

After all, to be the most sought-after “kept man” in the Game City, looks alone wouldn’t cut it. He had to have something else going for him. The female players there had all survived grueling, high-stakes horror games—they weren’t shallow enough to be swayed by just a pretty face.

Besides, back on the train, Sang Chen had noticed something.

Most of the veteran players had looked relaxed around the three newcomers, but if you really paid attention, you’d see the tension in their shoulders, the way their muscles clenched tight. No one felt truly at ease when stepping into a new death game.

No one except him.

While everyone else had been on edge, this guy had been peacefully asleep.

To be able to sleep that soundly right before a game? That kind of confidence could only come from sheer power.

Sang Chen had a strong feeling that this guy was a big shot. Maybe even on Mao Ziyu’s level.

He looked up at him, his eyes looking almost glassy under the dim, overcast sky. “I’m Sang Chen. What’s your name?”

The man lazily stuffed his hands into his pockets and exhaled two syllables:

“Yan Mo.”

As they spoke, they stepped into Xiangyang Town.

Right in front of them stood a small oval-shaped shopping mall, the color of raw meat. A large white rectangular door towered at its center, giving the entire building an eerie, imposing feel. The mall seemed to be the heart of the town, surrounded by a few bright-colored stores—candy shops, fruit stands, and little grocery stores. Beyond that were two-story residential buildings.

The town itself wasn’t very lively. The streets stretched out mostly empty, with only the occasional people walking by. Finding a place to stay shouldn’t be too hard.

The man in the dripping-wet black coat finally spoke up. “I suggest we split up and take different sides of the town. That way, we can explore more efficiently. For safety, stay in groups. Don’t wander off alone.”

The lanky man shrugged. “I’m guessing everyone already has their teammates. Just bunk with your team.”

As expected, once he said that most players immediately moved toward their teammates—some had been sitting together on the train, while others had been seated farther apart. Even the bald guy from the newbie group managed to join a team after making the first move.

That left just four of them: Sang Chen, Yan Mo, Mao Ziyu, and Gu Ziyan.

It made sense that he and Gu Ziyan had been left out. But the fact that the two big shots were also unclaimed… now that was unexpected.

Gu Ziyan didn’t bother trying to find another group. Instead, she shifted slightly closer to Mao Ziyu, making her stance clear.

Mao Ziyu glanced at Sang Chen and Yan Mo. “Guess the four of us are sticking together?”

There’s no choice, really.

Before they left, the middle-aged man with stone-like eyes—the one sitting across from Sang Chen on the train—leaned in and murmured, “Friendly advice: Mao Ziyu isn’t your average player. To put it simply, you and him? Not on the same level. Be careful.”

Back on the train, Sang Chen had already noticed that a lot of people seemed wary of Mao Ziyu. As a newbie, he couldn’t quite see what made the guy so dangerous—other than the fact that he seemed a little off.

Honestly, Yan Mo seemed like the more reliable one.

Apart from those two, Sang Chen’s gaze briefly flicked to the man in the soaking wet black coat, then to the middle-aged man himself.

“Thanks for the warning, Uncle,” he said with a polite smile. “You must be pretty strong yourself.”

Stone-Eyes just chuckled, saying nothing.

Sang Chen figured he was in a good mood, so he tried pushing his luck. “Uncle, what year are you from?”

The man’s teammates shot them a glance. Before leaving, he finally answered, “My name’s Shi Jinshui. I’m from the year 2101.”

With that, he turned and walked off.

Sang Chen trailed after his new temporary roommates, following them to find a place to stay.

Xiangyang Town seemed to be running at the same time as when they had boarded the train—around 6 PM. The sky was already darkening.

The four of them took the road to the right of the shopping mall. Along the way, they ran into a few townspeople. Sang Chen attempted to greet them, but none responded. The most he got was a brief stare before they turned away. Their faces, obscured by the mist, looked both blurry and indifferent. They didn’t seem hostile, exactly… just cold. Distant.

Not the friendliest bunch, but not nightmare fuel either.

“This isn’t what I expected from a horror game,” Gu Ziyan mused once the townspeople had passed.

She had started to relax now that she was with these three—none of them were scary, and she felt safe with them. Bit by bit, her natural liveliness started to show.

“The people here don’t have that usual horror-game vibe,” she continued. “They’re not inhumanly creepy, and they’re not over-the-top friendly either.”

“Even the buildings,” she added, glancing around. “It’s not like those haunted villages, all dark and decayed. Just… a little oppressive.”

She had a point.

Xiangyang Town wasn’t the dreary, abandoned type of place they’d expected. The buildings and roads were full of color—vivid reds, bright yellows, deep blues, even pitch black. The architecture had a hint of Gothic style, with little archways and spires decorating the two- and three-story buildings.

When Sang Chen had visualized a horror game, he had imagined the same things Gu Ziyan had—red-clad female ghosts, swarms of crawling demon babies, pale old men in funeral robes.

This place… was nothing like what he had prepared for.

If anything, Sang Chen found the town even stranger. It didn’t make him feel any safer.

“You’re thinking of those traditional Chinese horror games,” Mao Ziyu said. “A big part of the fear in those games comes from superstition. The real horror isn’t the ghosts—it’s the feudal system that devoured people alive. You mostly see those games when the Time Train stops before 1990, back when superstition still had a strong grip on people.”

Gu Ziyan’s eyes lit up with hope. “So does that mean this game doesn’t have terrifying ghosts?”

Mao Ziyu sighed. “How would I know? I’m not the game designer.” He paused, then added, “Honestly, games without ghosts are often even harder.”

Gu Ziyan was about to respond when Mao Ziyu suddenly pointed ahead, his voice full of excitement.

“Sang Chen, look! It’s a maternity hospital! Want to go in for a prenatal checkup?”

Sang Chen: “…”

Yeah, no thanks.

He had always hated hospitals. There was no way in hell he was stepping into one now. He refused to risk seeing something weird show up on an ultrasound. He’d rather just convince himself that his bloated stomach was nothing more than gas.

Even though he refused to go inside, they still had to pass by the hospital entrance.

An old man with graying hair sat in front of the iron gate. He was bundled in a black cotton-padded jacket, worn through in places, revealing damp, hardened cotton stuffing. Deep wrinkles dragged his face downward, his loose skin pulling at his eye sockets. His beady little eyes floated atop massive under-eye bags.

Even before they reached the gate, the old man had already locked his murky, eerie gaze onto them—more specifically, onto Sang Chen. His mouth moved in a low, droning mutter.

“Beast… the beast path… A child like that, and you’re bound for the beast path. The beast path… the beast path…”

“BEEP! BEEP BEEP BEEP!”

A sudden, piercing noise drilled into Sang Chen’s skull. He clutched his ears, pain stabbing through his eardrums as his brain buzzed in protest.

Mao Ziyu and Gu Ziyan covered their ears too—Gu Ziyan even dropped into a crouch, wincing.

A yellow car sped toward them from a distance. Its horn blared so loudly it felt like it could shatter eardrums as it passed.

Only after the car disappeared down the road did they cautiously lower their hands, still rattled.

“Why the hell was that so loud?” Mao Ziyu muttered, rubbing his ears. Then something else struck him. He turned to Yan Mo, eyes wide. “Wait—Yan Mo, my ears are still ringing, and you didn’t even cover yours?!”

Yan Mo, who had been silent the whole time, let out a sleepy, hoarse-sounding “Huh?”

“Yeah, it was loud. Shook me right awake.”

“…”

The ear-splitting honk had interrupted the old man’s muttering—and also cut off a conversation happening across the street.

“Fuck! What kind of car horn is that?!” One of the male players kicked at the air, glaring at the retreating vehicle while rubbing his aching ears.

Shi Jinshui, however, wasn’t looking at the car in frustration. His pale, stone-like eyes tracked its movement, the gray-white pupils faintly glowing blue. He watched it steadily, unblinking, until it finally vanished from view.

“Something wrong, boss?” the man who had kicked the air asked.

Shi Jinshui withdrew his gaze. “Shouldn’t be anything to worry about. Let’s go.”

“Ah, gotcha!” The man trusted him completely. The moment he heard Shi Jinshui’s reassurance, he relaxed, shoving his hands into his pockets as he strolled ahead. As he walked, he cracked a dumb joke to his teammates.

The guy in the red jacket beside him actually laughed and shot back with an equally bad pun.

He burst into laughter, deep wrinkles creasing his entire face. But the second he turned his head, in the dim, fading light—those laughing wrinkles froze.

Darkened.

And filled with blood.