The outcome of the discussion was that Su Er ultimately decided to let the little clay figure out, but it turned out to be far more timid than he had imagined. Even standing outside the door, it refused to go in no matter what, and at one point, it even covered its face with its hands.
Seeing this, Su Er prepared to carry it away, but Ji Heng shook his head. “Wait a bit longer.”
After a while, the little figure, still covering its face and facing the door, slowly lowered its arms and opened its mouth to inhale. It only managed to suck in half a breath before it started swaying like a drunk, and one of its arms split open on the spot.
It seemed Mister Rose inside sensed something—footsteps approached. Before he could open the door, Su Er waved to Ji Heng and quickly left with the little figure.
They rushed upstairs. Just as Su Er's figure disappeared around the corner of the last flight of stairs, the sound of a door opening came from downstairs.
There was no one outside the door. Mister Rose looked down at the clumps of dirt left behind on the floor, his gaze darkening.
There were no plants in the guest room, so naturally, no soil either. Looking at the little figure with only one arm left, Su Er promised, “Just bear with it for one night. I’ll patch you up tomorrow.”
The little figure nodded slightly, as if anything was fine as long as its face wasn’t damaged.
The benefits of that breath of air became apparent—it moved less stiffly than before.
Su Er flopped onto the bed, occasionally glancing at the moonlight outside. The image of the little figure inhaling through the door kept replaying in his mind, a scene uncannily similar to himself and the stun gun.
He couldn’t help but take the stun gun out—
“Maybe we’re actually a little family of three…” Su Er said with a blank expression. “If I call you Dad, would you respond?”
Dad.
He silently mouthed the word.
The stun gun remained a cold, unresponsive stun gun.
Su Er shook his head, thinking he must be losing it. He got out of bed and went to the window for air.
After tonight, it would be the third day here. This instance was truly strange—it didn’t even allow players to vote for the Love Killer, even though that would clearly fit the horror game’s spirit best.
The person with the most votes should be killed by a ghost, while the others watch their backs in fear. For instance, to skip such a brutal measure—it didn’t make sense.
“Unless reality is even more brutal than this…”
Su Er didn’t plan on asking Ji Heng for answers outright. Now that he had an experienced player with him, it was better to use the time to gain experience.
The moonlight was too bright, making it hard to sleep. Seeing how late it was, Su Er got ready to close the curtains and rest. But he accidentally bumped his elbow against the wall, hissing from the pain as the wound he’d worked hard to heal earlier in the day split open again.
Moments like this made him envious of the little figure. A bit of clay was all it took to regrow a limb.
A droplet of blood slid down his arm. Something clicked in Su Er’s mind. He turned around and began searching the guest room. Not long after, he found some dusty sheets of paper.
He deliberately let blood drip onto one, then used it to write a message: Who do you think is the Love Killer?
He wrote three identical notes. Once they dried, he placed one in the little figure’s hand. “Help me deliver this. As payment, I’ll give you double eyelids tomorrow.”
“Okay.”
Su Er froze. He hadn’t expected that a single breath from Mister Rose would actually enable it to talk.
Suppressing the dangerous thoughts bubbling up, Su Er gave detailed instructions and quietly let the little figure out the door.
Knock, knock-knock—
The knocking was light but enough to wake a player.
Man Jiangshan carefully approached the door and peeked through the peephole.
The knocking continued. That’s when she noticed the small clay figure.
An ambush behind a door at night was perfectly normal here—especially since the little figure was holding a piece of paper, and the rose by its ear was enough to send a chill down her spine.
“Vote—”
A hoarse voice spoke.
Man Jiangshan frowned, cautiously turning sideways and finally cracking the door open.
A thin arm reached inside. She bent down and saw the bloody question written on the note. After thinking for a while, she wrote down a name.
The rose, the blood writing, a moving clay ghost… The first impression made her instinctively assume the little figure was part of the instance design.
The figure retrieved the paper. Following Su Er’s instructions, it didn’t return directly, instead heading downstairs and crawling back into the room through the window.
Su Er repeated the trick, placing another note in its hand, this time with the next room to deliver it to.
“Ji Heng…” While waiting, Su Er glanced at Man Jiangshan’s answer and paused—so she suspected Ji Heng was the Love Killer.
Soon after, the figure brought back responses from Lu Quanqiu and Qu Qingming. Lu Quanqiu suspected Qu Qingming, while Qu Qingming simply wrote down everyone’s name.
Su Er: “Tell me what their expressions were like when they wrote the answers.”
The little figure remained motionless. The question was too complex for it, so it merely mimicked a general gesture.
Unfortunately, it wasn’t human—its performance lacked strong emotional cues.
Su Er didn’t push it. He gripped the notes in his hand, slowly revealing a smile…
Why let the instance lead them by the nose? Since the game didn’t arrange a voting round—he’d create one himself.
Before 7 a.m. the next morning, the group avoided the judges and gathered for breakfast.
Lu Quanqiu tried to speak a few times but was repeatedly interrupted by Su Er. Slightly irritated, he held back.
When breakfast was nearly over, Su Er put down his chopsticks and looked at the Mister Rose. “Shouldn’t I be assigned a new cameraman?”
Then he pointed at Ji Heng, indicating he didn’t have one either.
It was impossible to shoot a variety show without cameramen. Though his expression was cold, Mister Rose went out to assign new staff.
Once Su Er confirmed the host had actually left the room, he turned and asked Lu Quanqiu, “What were you trying to say just now?”
Having been cut off several times, Lu Quanqiu asked irritably, “Did everyone vote last night?”
Qu Qingming flipped her wavy curls and revealed a seductive smile, speaking up first: “I didn’t write down anyone’s name.”
Under Lu Quanqiu’s suspicious gaze, she shrugged. “It’s not like it was mandatory.”
“That’s good,” Lu Quanqiu acted relieved. “I didn’t write anyone either.”
Su Er quietly watched their little performance. Ji Heng probed with a few casual questions, piecing together a rough idea of what had happened last night. He glanced at Su Er but said nothing and continued eating.
Yesterday had yielded no results; today’s game was still about searching for the altar.
Su Er’s new camerawoman appeared frail, and since she had to carry a heavy camera, it was easy to feel sympathy for her. She was clearly wary of him, never daring to get too close while filming.
After breakfast, Su Er took the initiative to request some time alone. Ji Heng had no objections.
“Is there any way you can help me divert Mister Rose?”
Right before parting, Su Er asked this in a hushed voice.
Ji Heng gave a slight nod and headed toward the sea. As expected, the moment filming resumed, Mister Rose followed him closely to prevent another escape attempt by sea.
Meanwhile, Su Er took the chance to head deep into the forest alone. Once he confirmed no other players were around, he pulled out the kitchen knife he had taken from the seaside villa.
The female camerawoman looked terrified. “What are you trying to do?”
Su Er replied calmly, “Cutting tree branches.”
The camerawoman was already bracing for a fight, but to her surprise, Su Er genuinely began chopping thick branches with great effort. Then he sat cross-legged and focused on a craft project.
He became so engrossed in his handiwork that he even snuck back to the villa a few times to smuggle out various items—stools, picture frames, and more—which he then disassembled into fragmented parts.
Hours passed. The camerawoman was growing weary and leaned against a large tree to continue filming the dull scene.
Suddenly, Su Er stood up and zapped her with the stun gun, catching her completely off guard.
“You…”
“I promise I won’t hurt you—just need you unconscious for a while.” Seeing she was about to retaliate, Su Er solemnly swore, “If I break my word, may I perish in this instance.”
The camerawoman hesitated but ultimately chose not to resist.
She was the weakest of the staff and had been assigned the riskiest role because she couldn’t fight off her colleagues. If she tried to resist with all her might, she’d still have no real chance.
Keeping his promise, Su Er only used the stun gun to extract part of the yin energy from her body.
Once she passed out, Su Er turned off the camera and began molding clay—crafting the shape of a thick, coiled snake.
The snake was broad and round, resembling nothing at first glance. He carefully placed it on the craftwork he had just finished. After brushing the clay off his hands, he started injecting yin energy into the snake.
Just like the tiny figurine, the snake would occasionally squirm slightly.
Still not satisfied, Su Er used his blood to paint eerie symbols over it, and a perfect fake altar was born.
“All done.”
He exhaled in relief, then fell into deep thought. In his eyes, Qu Qingming seemed a more likely suspect than the other two, so he decided to use this as a starting point.
Su Er pulled out pen and paper and began drafting a plotline:
‘After last night’s vote, everyone is anxious. The love killer, afraid of being voted out, is desperate to find the altar.’
‘On the island, Qu Qingming is paired with the blonde girl. At that moment, the little figurine appears, leaving behind clues that lead her to the fake altar.’
‘Upon seeing the altar, Qu Qingming might: a. Destroy it (making her the love killer); b. Call the others over (leads to Storyline 1); c. Try to conceal the altar’s existence (leads to Storyline 2)’
‘Storyline 1: Lu Quanqiu and Man Jiangshan are summoned, but Qu Qingming doesn’t inform Ji Heng, suspecting him of being the love killer…’
As the wind rustled through the trees, Su Er sat beside the fake altar scribbling away. Before long, he had filled several pages with thousands of words, detailing eighteen different plot branches covering nearly every possibility.
At some point, the little figurine had crawled out of his pocket. Su Er set down his pen and started sculpting a new arm for it. The figurine pointed at its eyes, and with a sigh, Su Er obliged, crafting eyelids and giving it more expression.
Once its appearance had been modified, he reread what he’d written, occasionally glancing at the figurine. Though he seemed to be talking to it, it was more like talking to himself:
“If the instance won’t show us the plot outline, then I’ll be the one to script it.” He happened to catch sight of a sparrow flying across the distance. His eyes grew a little wistful. “After all, all that killing and chasing is just exhausting…”
This—reading love poems and stargazing on the first day, chasing dreams on the second, and raising kids, doing crafts, and writing storylines on the third—being a laid-back, peaceful player like this felt just right.
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