Normally, after coming back from an instance, Zhao Sanliang would take the initiative to contact Su Er and ask him out for a meal. This time was different—by the time Zhao Sanliang called Su Er, it had already been five whole days since the instance ended.
Su Er guessed, “You must’ve been so busy lately you haven’t even had time to catch your breath.”
Zhao Sanliang sounded a bit surprised, “How did you know?”
Su Er said, “Otherwise, the moment you found out about Ji Heng’s new achievement, you would’ve been bombarding me with questions about in-game details and then launched into your usual inhuman level of mockery.”
There was a brief silence on the other end, followed by a burst of loud laughter.
Zhao Sanliang laughed so hard he nearly doubled over. After swallowing a mouthful of saliva, he said, “Hotpot—wanna go?”
Tomorrow was Friday, the happiness of the last day before a break was in the air. Su Er agreed.
To avoid disturbing students studying for the college entrance exams, Zhao Sanliang directly chose a spot at the entrance of Su Er’s residential community.
He’d changed his hairstyle again—curls on the bottom, with a misty blue color.
Su Er remarked calmly, “Getting your hair done this often isn’t very good for you.”
Zhao Sanliang touched his hair, then suddenly yanked it off—it turned out to be a wig, revealing a short buzzcut underneath.
“I always use wigs to get new hairstyles. Pretty much all of them are weekly disposables.”
Su Er’s throat moved slightly. “That actually works?”
Zhao Sanliang replied, “As long as you’ve got money.”
Su Er ordered a tomato broth, probably because it was less oily. It took a while to boil. While waiting, Zhao Sanliang spoke with a bit of emotion, “The game’s going to go through some big changes soon.”
Su Er looked up from the bright red broth to glance at him.
Zhao Sanliang said, “I just did a dungeon two days ago and unfortunately ran into a bunch of nasty people. Fortunately, this time their focus wasn’t on the players, but on the host.”
Su Er raised an eyebrow. “And then?”
Zhao Sanliang smiled gloatingly and made a throat-slitting gesture. “As the old saying goes—don’t take on fine porcelain work if you don’t have the right tools.”
A lot of people figured, if even a newbie could piss off the host and come out unscathed with achievement points, why couldn’t they? In the end, they paid a far heavier price than expected.
Not sure what he was thinking of, Zhao Sanliang’s lips curved into a pleased smile. After a moment, he said, “You haven’t been in the game for long—you haven’t seen how treacherous people can be.”
Su Er nodded, not denying it.
He’d had good teammates in the newbie zone, and after that, he always used party items to team up. So even if someone in the Welfare Zone showed open hostility toward him, it didn’t really affect him.
Thinking of this, Su Er said, “I’ll be extra cautious when I go into an instance solo.”
“Not likely anytime soon,” Zhao Sanliang said as he swished some tripe in the pot. He occasionally glanced up at Su Er. “From now on, it’ll either be the boss or someone else from the team going in with you.”
First, Su Er had become too eye-catching. A lot of players were itching to dig information out of him, so going in solo was too risky. Secondly, as the player with the most achievement points, he might very well have collected all twenty-four—and completely exited the game for good.
Everyone wanted to see if a player could really escape for good. And if someone did make it out, what would happen afterward?
Zhao Sanliang still had more to say when he suddenly wiped his mouth and exclaimed, “Holy crap—why is the boss here?”
Ji Heng walked through the door and came straight toward them. Clearly, he was there for them.
Just as Zhao Sanliang was wondering how he’d found the place, he saw Su Er calmly twist a button. “Tracking chip.”
Since he lived alone, in case someone tried to harm him, it was better for someone to know his exact location. That’s why Su Er had paid someone to custom-make this button, which automatically sent his movement data to Ji Heng’s phone.
Zhao Sanliang was dumbfounded.
Ji Heng ignored him, pulled out a chair, sat down, and looked at Su Er. “The news about the host has spread pretty thoroughly. You still have one instance left to run this month. When are you planning to go in?”
Su Er thought for a moment. “Sunday.”
There was a mock exam on the 20th. After fulfilling the game’s monthly quota of two instance runs, he didn’t plan to exceed it before the end of the month.
Ji Heng nodded. “This time, I’ll go with—”
Before he could finish, Zhao Sanliang jumped in, “How about I go with him?”
He hadn’t seen how Su Er handled an instance yet.
Zhao Sanliang was unreliable in daily life, but in-game, he was the complete opposite. Ji Heng found the idea acceptable and asked Su Er, “What do you think?”
“I want to go with you.”
The words were crisp and direct, without the slightest hesitation.
Zhao Sanliang tried to defend himself, “I’m really strong too…”
Su Er cut him off, “You might not be able to handle the emotional damage I cause.”
Zhao Sanliang looked confused.
Ji Heng, however, recalled Su Er’s past behavior and had no doubt Zhao Sanliang would be crying his eyes out after the instance, swearing never to team up with him again.
As the team leader, it was his responsibility to protect his teammates’ mental health. So he turned to Su Er and said, “I’ll come pick you up Sunday morning.”
Su Er nodded. Ji Heng then turned his face toward the still-bewildered Zhao Sanliang and glanced at the boiling hotpot. “I’ll cover the meal. Consider it a celebration—you survived.”
Being able to reflect and summarize experiences is an essential quality of an excellent student. Su Er’s dungeon summary: Play it safe, stealthy development is king.
With that in mind, on Saturday night, he even listened to soothing prenatal education music and repeatedly gave himself mental suggestions: Stay steady in the next instance!
Early Sunday morning, Ji Heng saw Su Er walking toward him dressed very casually, his expression calm as still water—radiating a Buddhist-like serenity.
He couldn’t help but curl his lips into a smile and handed over a pair of sunglasses.
Su Er examined them in his hand. “So many different forms of team-up tools.”
Not seeing anything unusual, he simply put them on. Instantly, countless lines of code appeared across the lenses, flashing and streaming rapidly into his brain, bringing a wave of intense dizziness. Once the sunglasses shattered and disappeared, Su Er was successfully transported into the instance.
The world was almost pitch black.
A few people stood nearby—their outlines barely visible.
Su Er quickly realized the source of the faint glow—it came from the chest badges on him and Ji Heng. Their newest achievements were glowing brightly, making them the brightest stars in this world of darkness.
Laughter echoed in the night.
Unbothered, Ji Heng gestured for Su Er to move closer.
Even without being told, Su Er instinctively stepped nearer. When vision was this limited, it was easy to feel like something alien could jump out and attack at any moment.
A few minutes passed just like that.
Pa!
A small stone dropped from midair and hit the ground. The sound wasn’t loud, but all the players instinctively stepped back.
From the distance, someone approached carrying a lantern. Beneath its eerie glow was a young face—round and childish. The little girl had her hair in pigtails and wore a pair of old, thick-rimmed glasses, giving her a stiff and dull appearance.
“So annoying, so damn annoying…” she muttered while quickly counting the players, her tone growing irritable. “I wasn’t even supposed to work overtime today.”
Then her eyes suddenly widened and locked onto Su Er like lasers. “It’s all because of one bastard! Now the game’s prioritizing elderly and child hosts for his dungeons!”
“Some people better remember this…” The little girl had a pair of dead-fish eyes. When she glared, the whites of her eyes were even more pronounced. “Only perverts would lay a hand on a child! That’s right, a dungeon isn’t a lawless zone! Minimum sentence: three years. Maximum: death penalty!”
Su Er, who was clearly the target of her insinuation, frowned. He was a proper and upright high school student—he shouldn’t be subjected to such character attacks. He opened his mouth to say, “Little sister…”
“Pah!” The girl spat. “Who are you calling little sister? Don’t you go making up relationships!”
One thing restrains another. Most of the dungeon hosts they had met before tended to act aloof and superior. But the little girl in front of them clearly wasn’t capable of regulating her emotions, displaying her disgust and hatred with full intensity.
A few players who saw this scene were secretly pleased—when the host targeted a specific player, it usually benefited the others. At least for now, Su Er was doing a great job attracting all the firepower.
After giving her verbal warning, the little girl finally got back on track and recited the opening lines: “Welcome, everyone, to the world of Seven Days and Seven Nights.”
With that, she flicked her pigtails dramatically.
“This game is called The Dragon, the Phoenix, and the Rat. In this world, all children are born as triplets. When they turn sixteen, the weakest of the three is sent to the Reform Camp. That’s right—you all are the discarded trash.”
The players were experienced enough to know that a ‘Reform Camp’ was definitely not a good place.
“But heaven always leaves a door open,” the little girl said with a sweet smile. “Every year, the Reform Camp selects five children with the best transformation results to return to society as ‘High-Class Citizens.’”
If there were high-class citizens, then naturally there would be low-class ones. Without waiting for the players to ask, the little girl helpfully explained, “Low-Class Citizens are uniformly disposed of at age twenty. After all, the world’s resources are limited—only the exceptional deserve to use them.”
She clapped her hands, and instantly, a new identity card appeared in each player’s pocket. Their names and genders remained the same—the only change was their age, now all listed as sixteen.
“Keep up.”
The little girl led the way with her lantern. She liked to kick pebbles as she walked, her pace alternating between quick and slow.
Up ahead was a large iron gate, rusted all over.
A man in workwear stood at the entrance. Behind him, a dozen teenage boys and girls stood quietly and properly.
“Principal Long,” the little girl greeted.
The man’s sharp face softened with a slight smile. He turned to the teens behind him and said, “Don’t be fooled by her age—she’s a famous prodigy. Writing poetry at two, essays at three. I figured you’ve been doing well lately, so I’m giving you a chance to meet her early.”
All the teens wore expressionless faces and bowed dully. “Thank you, Principal.”
Su Er, who had been repeatedly targeted, shook his head… It was normal for the host to have an in-dungeon identity, but this “genius prodigy” persona was just painfully awkward.
The little girl, unaware of his thoughts, stepped aside to fully reveal the players. “These are the newest recruits headed for the Reform Camp. I ran into them on the road, so I brought them along.”
Then she introduced the man in workwear to the players. “This is Principal Chen.”
In the silence, Ji Heng gave a respectful greeting, “Good day, Principal Chen. It’s an honor to meet you.”
Principal Chen responded with a perfunctory “Mm,” but the look of disgust in his eyes softened a little. He looked past Ji Heng at the others and barked sharply, “What are you all standing there like logs for?”
They followed Principal Chen into the Reform Camp. Streetlamps were installed along the path, making it easier to see.
Despite being called a Reform Camp, the place looked more like an ordinary school—with buildings and a playground.
Su Er was still thinking about what the host had said earlier. If one didn’t become a High-Class Citizen, they’d be ‘disposed of’ at twenty. That was likely the death condition. But since their in-game age was only sixteen, could it be that if they didn’t qualify the first year, they still had a few more years to try?
Turning back, he saw the little girl trailing behind the group. Su Er slowed down to walk beside her. “Excuse me…”
“No crawling into bed! No ghost marriages! And don’t even think about calling yourself my godfather!” The little girl was on full alert. “Remember: three years minimum, death at the max!”
Su Er was left utterly speechless.
The little girl, arms crossed, raised the lantern in one hand, keeping a full arm’s length between them, her dead-fish eyes fixed on Su Er to prevent him from making any inappropriate moves.
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