“The time is almost up,” the man with his legs crossed squinted slightly.
As soon as he finished speaking, several beams of light descended from the sky, enveloping the four people. From an outsider’s perspective, their bodies seemed to be gradually dissolving until they completely vanished.
“I wonder how many will survive this time,” a gentle female voice said.
The man with crossed legs was about to reply when he suddenly sat up straight. The others also turned their gazes toward the distance. From within the thick mist, two figures emerged, one walking ahead of the other.
“They’re from Grave Return.”
“So the rumors are true,” the bespectacled man, who had been slouched over his desk, lifted his head. “Grave Return lost a member.”
Grave Return was undoubtedly the strongest team, known for its small but elite roster.
“I wonder what kind of instance it was, for even someone from Grave Return to fall,” the bespectacled man murmured, his expression complex.
The group fell into silence.
“How many newcomers this time?” The punk-styled man trailing behind the tall figure asked as they stopped a short distance away.
“Four,” someone answered.
The punk-styled man curled his lip. “How are they?”
“Decent quality,” the bespectacled man said mildly. “At least none of them screamed their heads off.”
The punk-styled man seemed eager to chat more, but a glance from his leader made him shut his mouth obediently.
The tall man looked toward the water screen. “We’ll have our answer soon enough.”
The air was thick with the faint scent of damp wood. Su Er found himself inside a villa, a wailing child lying on a small bed in front of him.
“This isn’t a prank,” someone whispered hoarsely beside him. The person’s face was deathly pale, their eyes squeezed shut as they muttered under their breath.
Su Er remained silent. Indeed, no one had the power to orchestrate something like this as a mere joke.
“Shut up.”
The suffocating silence was broken by a sudden figure appearing beside the crib. He was dressed in a tattered suit and knocked on the crib railing with his knuckles. The child instantly stopped crying.
The group instinctively stepped back. It wasn’t without reason—what stood before them could hardly be called a human. A withered rose bloomed from the man’s left ear, its stem embedded beneath his skin like creeping roots, grotesque and eerie.
“Welcome to the world of Seven Days, Seven Nights.” The man seemed to realize his tone was a bit harsh and gave them an apologetic smile before bowing slightly. “I am your host for this round—Mister Rose.”
“Patience is a virtue,” Mister Rose spread his arms dramatically, speaking as though addressing an eager audience rather than a group of nervous participants. “This game is very simple—it's called Hush, My Dear Baby.”
A girl muttered under her breath, “Isn’t that just putting a baby to sleep?”
The rose at Mister Rose’s ear twitched slightly, as if catching her words. He clapped his hands approvingly. “Exactly…” He dragged out the word, grinning unnaturally wide. “Now then, I officially declare—the game has begun.”
Each of them suddenly found a badge appearing on their chests, engraved with their names.
A man sighed bitterly. “At least we don’t have to introduce ourselves.”
Su Er, whose high school studies had honed his brain to peak efficiency, scanned the names in a single glance and memorized them.
The older man was Zhao He, the girl was Li Li, and the quiet young man had a rather peculiar surname—Xuanyuan, given name Aoyu. Seeing the group linger an extra second on his nameplate, he shrugged helplessly. “I didn’t choose my surname, and neither did my parents.”
Mister Rose stood silently in the shadows, watching their discussion.
The handbook contained a wealth of information, but reading it all now was impractical, and cramming it all into their heads at once was unwise.
Su Er suggested, “Let’s split it up by page numbers. Each of us reads our assigned section and summarizes the key points.”
No one objected.
Ten minutes later, they closed their handbook one by one.
Zhao He spoke first. “The badges display our physical strength and spiritual power. If either drops below 1, we will be automatically erased.”
Everyone glanced down. Upon closer inspection, two small lines of text were indeed printed in the lower right corner. Their stats weren’t too different, but Su Er’s spiritual power was slightly higher—his starting values were 50 and 14, respectively.
Li Li added, “A physical strength above 150 can slightly distort space, allowing one to harm ghosts—a phenomenon commonly referred to as ‘miracles through brute force.’ A spiritual power above 80 allows for possession by spirit entities, though it comes with risks.”
They were nowhere close to reaching those thresholds, which meant that their only option for survival was to follow the game’s rules.
Xuanyuan Aoyu clenched the handbook, his fingertips turning white. “Even if we survive this round, there are still plenty of high-difficulty games waiting for us.”
Su Er had focused on the final section. “After the game ends, our performance will determine the growth of our physical strength and spiritual power.”
In other words, trying to coast through was not an option. The beginner round wasn’t too difficult, but if they didn’t take this opportunity to strengthen themselves, they were doomed sooner or later.
After a brief silence, Zhao He sighed. “The price of failure… is something we can't afford to pay.”
The final page of the handbook ended with a smiling emoji waving goodbye, a detail that sent chills down his spine.
Being the oldest, Zhao He had a more comprehensive perspective. “We were chosen for this—perhaps randomly, or maybe for a reason.”
Each of them recalled the last thing they had done before entering this strange world and found no commonalities. As the only female among them, Li Li gritted her teeth and suddenly said, “I can't feel pain.”
To prevent herself from getting injured without realizing it, she had to speak up, hoping someone would remind her if necessary.
Zhao He had a sudden realization and pointed to his head. “I had neurasthenia, but it's been cured.”
Su Er also had an anomaly. After a family crisis, he seemed to have lost certain emotions. His psychologist suggested that it might be his brain subconsciously protecting itself from trauma.
Not wanting to attract unnecessary suspicion, he thought for a moment and said, “Mild emotional recognition disorder.”
Xuanyuan Aoyu racked his brain for a long time. “Other than my name, I can't think of anything unusual. But <Seven Days, Seven Nights>—isn't that the novel that was wildly popular before it got banned?”
Zhao He’s eyes lit up. “Have you read it?”
Xuanyuan Aoyu shook his head. “Just heard of it.”
Zhao He turned his gaze to the others, but they all shook their heads. He sighed, “At least everyone is adapting quickly to reality.”
Aside from Xuanyuan Aoyu, the rest lowered their gazes—clearly, they all had secrets they weren’t willing to share.
“Waah!” A loud cry interrupted their discussion.
Mister Rose, who had been playing the role of air, beamed. “Nap time.”
Su Er boldly stepped forward. Li Li initially followed behind him but was stopped by an outstretched arm.
“Be careful,” Su Er said. “This child’s face looks like Nuwa messed up while molding it.”
Li Li didn’t take it seriously, thinking he just meant the child was ugly. But when she got a closer look, she gasped. The child’s face was so thin that it was just a layer of shriveled skin. His eyes were lifeless, and at the moment, he was holding a small cup, wailing.
A normal person would instinctively feel pity upon seeing such a child. However, as the child cried, blood and flesh were visible between his teeth, as if he were chewing and swallowing something.
Li Li was so startled that she covered her mouth to keep herself from screaming.
Su Er took a step closer while maintaining a safe distance. “Looks like he just ate something recently.”
Li Li forced herself to look again, then mustered the courage to ask Mister Rose. “What happens if he doesn’t fall asleep?”
Mister Rose remained silent, as if he were just an impartial observer.
The child’s crying grew louder and sharper, stabbing into their eardrums.
Su Er stared at him expressionlessly. Thinking about the game’s name, he suddenly started humming a lullaby. “Sleep, sleep, my dear…”
The moment he finished the first line, the child abruptly sat up in bed like a carp flipping out of water and lunged at him, mouth wide open.
Su Er swiftly stepped back. “I tried my best.”
Xuanyuan Aoyu’s mouth twitched. “You almost sang away my fear.”
Zhao He nodded in agreement. “That was painfully out of tune.”
Li Li sighed. “The most common way to soothe a child is to hold them or tell them a bedtime story.”
Hold them?
Everyone’s gaze instinctively landed on the child’s teeth before quickly looking away. No one was eager to throw their life away.
“A bedtime story might work,” Li Li tried to steady her rapidly beating heart. “I’ll give it a shot.” She swallowed hard and did her best to use a gentle tone, though her throat was dry. After racking her brain, she finally thought of a fable. “One winter day, a farmer found a frozen snake on the road…”
With every sentence she spoke, the child’s fingers crept further up the bed railing, his body inching closer. He was about to climb out.
“Based on my movie-watching experience,” Zhao He said, his heart nearly leaping out of his chest, “we can’t win against this thing.”
If the child got out, at least one of them was doomed.
The child’s body had already crawled over the railing. Before, his legs had been tucked under the blanket, but now a pair of beast-like claws were exposed—dark, sharp nails curled like hooks. Su Er suddenly said, “I have a reckless idea—one that’s like drinking poison to quench thirst.”
His hand had been on the stun gun in his pocket, but at the last moment, he changed his mind. Since their performance in this beginner game would be publicly broadcast, revealing valuable resources could make them a target.
“A dull knife can still kill a chicken if you press hard enough!” Zhao He’s voice sharpened with tension. “Just stop that thing from coming out first!”
Su Er lowered his eyes, clenched his fingers tightly, then shot a sharp gaze at the child. At the end of Li Li’s story, he suddenly added, “If you don’t go to sleep now, the snake will come for you!”
Back home, many adults used fear to put children to bed.
The child’s outstretched hand stiffened in midair before he reluctantly crawled back under the blanket and went to sleep.
“It worked!” Zhao He exclaimed in surprise.
But Su Er immediately turned his gaze to Mister Rose. The man had been smiling the entire time.
“What’s wrong?” Li Li was the first to notice his reaction.
“The game isn’t over yet,” Su Er said. “If we assume the worst-case scenario, what’s coming next?”
Li Li froze.
Zhao He blurted out, “At night, a real snake will show up—targeting the storyteller first”
During the night, the child cried once more. Having no better options, Su Er simply told the same story again. Though the child was reluctant, he still lay back down and went to sleep.
Strength comes in numbers. Everyone initially planned to gather in the living room so they could help each other in case of trouble. However, Mister Rose handed each of them a room key, his smile carrying a deeper meaning. “Do not leave your rooms after midnight.”
The group exchanged uneasy glances before eventually dispersing to their respective rooms.
“That young man is going to die.” Watching through the water screen, the punk-styled observer clicked his tongue.
There was no doubt that a snake would appear at night—one that ordinary people had no way of dealing with.
“What a pity. This batch of newcomers is quite promising, but they lack experience.”
Aside from the tall man, who sat with his eyes closed, the others were gathered together, chatting to pass the time.
The punk-styled man leaned toward him. “Boss, if any of the three manage to survive, we could consider recruiting one into our team.”
With proper training, they might turn out useful.
The tall man nodded slightly. “Do as you see fit.”
Su Er sat on the edge of his bed, showing no intention of sleeping. It was now 11:50. Surviving the night was uncertain, but one thing was clear: he would have to use the stun gun in a life-threatening situation. If the room turned out to be a death trap, its events would likely be broadcasted publicly.
He needed to find a place—somewhere that wasn’t being monitored.
Downstairs, the second hand on the clock made another full cycle, landing on 11:55.
Mister Rose, anticipating the bloody spectacle about to unfold in a certain room, smiled with delight.
11:56.
A sudden knock on the door.
11:58.
Outside, a kind-looking face appeared. Su Er slipped his left hand into his pocket, gripping the stun gun, while casually raising his right hand in a friendly wave. “Hi.”
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