The dark clouds gradually dispersed, and the once-dull gray sky looked much more comfortable now.
Ji Heng glanced at Su Er. “Heading back?”
Su Er nodded. This instance had gone relatively smoothly, but he hadn’t had a proper night’s sleep throughout—his entire body was now in a drained state. Overcome with fatigue, he decisively pressed the indentation on his chest badge and exited the game.
Finally returning to the real world, Su Er couldn’t hide the weariness in his eyes and let out a yawn.
Ji Heng didn’t delay his rest any further and helped him hail a taxi. “Get some good sleep.”
Su Er nodded and waved his hand casually. “See you.”
He was always extremely vigilant, and even though he was exhausted, he forced himself to stay alert and didn’t dare fall asleep in the cab.
The radio was playing an alluring tune. The singer had a precise voice that struck a chord, making one feel an itch deep within.
Su Er shook off most of his drowsiness and instinctively sat up straighter, listening carefully. The more he listened, the more familiar the voice became. He subconsciously muttered, “Qu Qingming?”
The driver, a young man, caught his mumbling and became instantly interested. “You know her too?”
Su Er mumbled a vague response.
“Good taste!” The traffic light turned red, and the driver rolled down the window, resting his arm on the frame as he turned to speak. “I’ve seen her once in person—she’s really gorgeous. Heard she’s recently stepped into the entertainment industry. She’s bound to make it big.”
Su Er replied, “Sounds dangerous.”
“Huh?”
Su Er: “Your hand.”
The driver laughed it off, but still withdrew his hand. “Have you seen On the Road? The beautiful truck driver in that film was a cameo by Qu Qingming. She likes to do that move a lot in the movie.”
Su Er had originally intended to steer the conversation to get more details, but unfortunately, the driver was a textbook fanboy—lost in his own rambling and never giving Su Er a chance to speak.
Zhao Sanliang had once said that many people in real life had investigated missing players, and those who dug too deep never met a good end.
Su Er thought that was probably exaggerated. At the very least, he was sure that Zhao Sanliang and Ji Heng had always been investigating—just that they knew how to maintain boundaries. As for where the game’s bottom line was—no one knew until they crossed it.
With that thought, Su Er leaned back again, returned to a relaxed posture, and pulled out his phone to search for Qu Qingming.
From what the driver said, she was somewhat of a public figure.
There was plenty of info online—Qu Qingming was a fairly well-known model who had only started venturing into the entertainment world last year, and her fame wasn’t that high yet. There weren’t many scandals about her either; the most common headline was “Beautiful Since Childhood.”
Su Er clicked on a few photos and had to admit—she really was beautiful. Even as a child, she was a budding beauty.
He placed the phone face down on his leg, half-closing his eyes in thought. The last question Ji Heng had asked Qu Qingming before they left the dungeon kept replaying in his mind:
—“Were you always this good-looking before?”
—“Maybe.”
Both the questioner and the one answering had acted strangely.
Why would someone like Ji Heng, with his personality, focus so much on Qu Qingming’s appearance?
Unable to resist, Su Er looked through a few more pictures. Qu Qingming had started early, and there were many old videos of her runway work online. He watched them one by one, but found nothing unusual.
Su Er sighed with some disappointment. All that speculation earlier—about Qu Qingming trading something with the game in exchange for beauty—had just been his imagination.
“We’re here,” the driver’s voice pulled him out of his spiraling thoughts.
“Thanks.” Su Er quickly paid and got out, walking briskly toward the empty house.
The weather had been strange this year—constant rain, and always that fine, drizzling type that came without warning.
Once he got home, Su Er ignored his wet hair, pulled on a jacket as a blanket, and collapsed on the sofa to make up for sleep.
Half-asleep, when he next became aware, he was in a cemetery. Around him were unmarked graves, and the sound of someone crying over a tomb echoed intermittently.
The world was blanketed in a white haze—as if to explicitly tell him this was a dream. And not a good one. Su Er followed the sound and saw a sorrowful face—it looked exactly like the one printed on the stamp Mister Rose had given him.
He stood silently behind the mourner, not moving.
After a while, with no sound from Su Er, the mourner’s trembling shoulders gradually stilled. Then, slowly, the person turned around—dark eyes staring straight at Su Er.
If it was a contest of patience, Su Er never lost. He said nothing, waiting for the other party to speak first.
The mourner wiped away their tears. “Your eyes are worth a lot.”
Su Er’s expression didn’t change. His instincts told him the person was referring to the mysterious eye inside his body.
The mourner’s lips curved upward, their smile looking as miserable as their crying. “Whoever receives my stamp—I’ll help them once, free of charge.”
Su Er shook his head without hesitation.
“Don’t be so quick to refuse,” the mourner said with a friendly smile. “Let me introduce myself—you may call me the Gravekeeper’s Servant.”
“nicetomeetyou”
Su Er replied, “Nicetomeetyou.”
“…,” the Gravekeeper’s Servant said, “Let’s get to the point.”
Su Er’s eyes flickered. “You understand English?”
If even the host understood foreign languages… did that mean the game had ties to the real world?
“Crafty little brat,” the Gravekeeper's Servant made a shushing gesture. “Don't try to probe the connection between the two.”
Su Er’s expression returned to indifference. “Weren't you going to talk business?”
I’d love to kill him.
Whenever the Gravekeeper's Servant got agitated, tears easily welled up. He wiped the corners of his eyes with his sleeve and said solemnly, “Mister Rose has a bead in his possession—it reveals the secrets hidden deep in people's hearts.”
Su Er had just witnessed it in the last dungeon.
“That thing is nothing but a defective copy. It's modeled after the one inside your body.”
Su Er was usually good at hiding emotions, but at that, his fingers involuntarily curled slightly.
There was something similar about them. In essence, both reflected the truth behind appearances.
The Gravekeeper's Servant took note, eyes glinting like a snake tempting Adam and Eve with forbidden fruit. “Do you want to control it freely? Maybe even use it in your daily life?”
Su Er narrowed his eyes. “What do I have to pay?”
“The tears of others,” the Gravekeeper's Servant replied.
He pulled out a small bottle. “Ghosts, demons—doesn't matter. Collect their tears until this bottle is full.”
Seeing Su Er’s inclination to refuse, he took out a contract. It clearly stated that the bottle was not bottomless. Only one hundred drops were needed to fill it, and once inside, the tears wouldn’t evaporate or disappear.
Su Er read through the contract carefully. No obvious traps.
“Time limit is one year,” the Gravekeeper's Servant added.
The offer bordered on absurd. Normally, it was the ghosts who made players cry.
“What happens if I fail?”
The Gravekeeper’s Servant squeezed out two theatrical tears and pointed to the surrounding wilderness of graves. “This.”
The further distance was hard to see, but even the area not shrouded in fog had at least a hundred graves. Su Er grew more alert… They were all smart people—so why would so many players agree to this deal?
“Different value, different requirements,” the Gravekeeper’s Servant explained helpfully. “Some wanted rare items, others fame or power. Most only needed to collect fewer than ten tears.”
Su Er asked, “How many succeeded?”
To his surprise, the Gravekeeper’s Servant answered truthfully. “Three percent.”
“Not worth it,” Su Er said rationally. “Even if that eye could be used in the real world, it wouldn’t be very useful unless ghosts actually exist out there.”
If less than ten tears could kill so many players, what were the chances with a hundred?
“You’re wrong.” The Gravekeeper's Servant’s tear-prone condition kicked in again, his eyes brimming. “This is about whether or not you’ll earn the right to leave the game.”
They locked eyes. Su Er said nothing.
The Gravekeeper’s Servant smiled. “No player can actually collect all twenty-four achievement points. Some promises are just bait.”
During the silence, Su Er reread the contract three times. Just as he seemed interested, he suddenly asked, “Do the tears have to come from different ghosts?”
The question hit its mark. The Gravekeeper's Servant pressed his lips together.
“No wonder…” Su Er let out a cold laugh. "Even if a single ghost cries endlessly, the system probably only counts one drop."
That would explain the player death toll.
For skilled players, capturing one ghost wasn’t hard. But to intimidate multiple ghosts? Eventually, they'd fall into a trap.
Just as the Gravekeeper’s Servant was scrambling to reword things and tempt him again, Su Er suddenly bit his finger and scrawled his signature across the contract.
The signature was clean—no tricks. That, more than anything, made the Gravekeeper’s Servant feel like something was off.
Su Er held out his hand. “The bottle.”
The Gravekeeper's Servant tossed it to him.
Su Er: “Aren't you supposed to fulfill your promise now?”
Most of the thick fog dispersed. The Gravekeeper's Servant shook his head. “Time's up. I’ll find you again tomorrow night.”
Su Er didn’t press. He looked up at the vast, bleak sky. When the last of the mist faded, his awareness suddenly snapped back—he was lying on the couch. The leather upholstery was sweltering in the summer heat, and his thin T-shirt was soaked with sweat.
Still dazed, he rolled over just as he heard a clatter—the bottle had fallen and rolled under the couch.
He jumped up and picked it up. Though it was now dusty from the floor, it was incredibly sturdy, completely intact.
Not a dream.
He lowered his eyes. The bottle’s very existence was proof of reality.
First thing he did was check his finger. No injury. He let out a breath of relief—at least wounds in the dream wouldn’t carry over to the real world.
It was nearly dawn. Su Er went to take a shower. For once, he was in a good mood. He turned on the TV, tied on an apron, and started making himself a hearty breakfast while listening to the news.
“According to recent reports, a talent agent has filed a police report claiming one of their artists has gone missing…”
Su Er’s hand froze mid-chop. He quickly walked over to the television.
The report was just a few brief lines, too vague to grasp the full story. He pulled out his phone and searched it—his screen instantly flooded with overwhelming news and speculation.
—Qu Qingming had gone missing.
She had once won a prestigious modeling award, but it hadn’t received much media attention. Now, thanks to rampant speculation from marketing accounts, she was suddenly splashed across all the headlines.
According to a somewhat credible media outlet, two days ago, Qu Qingming missed a magazine shoot. Her agent tried every possible means to contact her, but nothing worked. In desperation, they reported her missing.
Since Qu Qingming had been on vacation before that, the exact time of her disappearance couldn’t even be confirmed.
After reading the latest updates, Su Er stood in place, silent... It was too much of a coincidence.
The news just happened to break now. Even a day earlier—before he entered the game—if word of her disappearance had gotten out, the dungeon would’ve been much easier. At the very least, he definitely would’ve suspected Qu Qingming was the Love Killer from the beginning.
His phone buzzed—Ji Heng was calling.
“You seen the news?”
Su Er gave a low grunt. “I’m watching it now.”
“Don’t pay it too much attention. I’ll come see you in a couple of days.”
“Alright.”
The call ended quickly. Su Er stared at the now-dark screen for a few seconds before heading back to the kitchen to finish breakfast.
Since Ji Heng had gone out of his way to call, maybe he should be more cautious about the Qu Qingming situation—at the very least, he couldn’t investigate the case openly.
He absentmindedly finished making a deluxe sandwich. A glance at the clock told him half an hour had passed. In a hurry, he packed everything up to bring it to school.
The classroom was noisy. Most of the students were still reeling from the latest mock exams, dreading how they’d explain the results to their parents at the upcoming meeting. Su Er didn’t even qualify to attend, so he ignored the discussion entirely.
His mind was elsewhere, and he barely registered anything during math class.
Yao Zhi, normally strict, showed rare leniency—he knew Su Er had just come out of an instance and didn’t hold him too tightly. He didn’t even keep the class past the bell.
As soon as school let out, Su Er used the excuse of feeling unwell to skip evening study. He went to bed early, forcing himself to sleep.
The familiar sound of weeping over graves echoed in his ears.
The Gravekeeper's Servant was putting on a show again, fake-crying over the graves of the players he had led to death. When he saw Su Er, he rubbed his tear-reddened eyes. “You’re here.”
Su Er nodded, immediately getting to the point. “Mister Rose gave me a stamp. Does that mean…”
He paused and looked the servant straight in the eye. “Next time, I’m definitely going to the instance you oversee?”
The Gravekeeper's Servant: “What a boring question.”
Su Er didn’t care what he thought—he just waited patiently for an answer.
“That’s right,” the Gravekeeper’s Servant finally said slowly. “If you take the stamp, you have to return it yourself.”
Having confirmed that, Su Er said, “Can I borrow pen and paper?”
The Gravekeeper’s Servant glanced at him, but eventually obliged.
Su Er seemed to have the draft already formed in his mind—he wrote quickly and handed over the finished document.
At first, the Gravekeeper’s Servant just skimmed it. Then his expression turned… strange.
The paper’s content was unspeakably ridiculous. The title was scrawled in flamboyant script: <Love & Comfort Program>. Below was a detailed description:
Long nights feel lonely? The <Love & Comfort Program will> warm your soul for a lifetime.
Price list:
Sentient clay doll (recommended for ghosts who desire children)… 5 tears each
Attractive rubber human (a must-have for single, homebody ghosts! Note: non-sentient)… 1 tear each
Cute animal clay doll (a blessing for pet lovers)… 5 tears each
Chibi-style versions of Mister Rose, Mister Sea of Books, Smiling Merchant, etc., customizable with singing and dancing functions… Price negotiable
Grand Opening Sale! Come on in if you want to love! First three orders get 20% off! Buy three rubber humans, get one free! No limit!
“If possible,” Su Er said seriously, “please distribute these flyers in your instance and see if any ghosts are interested. Group orders get a discount.”
A hundred tears was no small feat. Relying solely on tormenting ghosts wouldn’t work. If he could earn them through business deals instead, all the better.
The Gravekeeper’s Servant flinched when he read rubber humans, lips twitching in a bizarre mix of grief and amusement. He took a deep breath and looked at Su Er. “You… are going to get banned from the game sooner or later.”
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