A decisive “yes” shattered the oppressive atmosphere.
Su Er felt targeted by that answer, but his reminder made him consider another angle.
The woman’s heart-wrenching sobs contrasted sharply with the men’s cold indifference. Ji Heng spoke rationally: “The clue is right in front of us—take her for an examination.”
Li Shuo’s resolve softened for a single moment, then he snapped back into professional mode. Parasitic infection isn’t trivial; they couldn’t let a suspect go easily.
“Please cooperate,” he said. “Otherwise we’ll have to take coercive measures.”
Lu Lanxin took a step back, insisting she didn’t understand what they were implying.
Li Shuo promised, “The check won’t harm your body.”
They began to escort her; physical contact was unavoidable. He said no more and walked aside to call for female medical personnel to take over.
Lu Lanxin kept her head down, trembling violently—anyone could see how helpless she was.
Seeing this, Su Er inwardly sighed. An ordinary person in her position would have made a scene and tried to escape; that would be the normal reaction.
“I—”
He was about to exchange a look with Ji Heng when Lu Lanxin’s eyelashes stopped trembling. A shadow fell across her face; when she raised her eyes, her pupils were entirely black.
When their eyes met, Su Er felt a jolt… Had he been selected as the next attack target?
White tufts of fluff began to accumulate in the air. They were extremely fine—only about one-tenth the size of ordinary willow fluff—and in the dim rental room were easy to miss.
Su Er sensed something off, and with his peripheral vision noticed, near the refrigerator where the detector had left its powder, a mass of writhing white creatures.
Vision impaired.
He shut his eyes and slowly extended a hand, concentrating on feeling. His palm registered an almost imperceptible weight, as soft as a feather.
“Careful, there’s—”
Slap!
The door shut, cutting off the unfinished warning.
Lu Lanxin backed against the door and reflexively locked it, sealing themselves inside.
Su Er glanced at the window; a web-like veil had formed there.
The floating white particles segmented the room, isolating the three of them—only he and Lu Lanxin were in the same space.
“…Why choose me?”
Tears streaking her face, Lu Lanxin’s mouth twisted into a strange, alluring smile. “Young, fresh body.”
Is being young a crime?
Su Er’s expression was complicated. Yi Zhu, Ji Heng, Lu Lanxin… why were they all so interested in young men?
He didn’t have time for further musing. Desire flared through him, nearly engulfing his reason. Acting before thought, Su Er reflexively zapped himself with the stun gun.
Half his arm went numb, but he gained a brief clarity.
Lu Lanxin, somehow now pressed up against him, received a jolt herself when he didn’t hesitate to use it on her too.
“Restraint…” He didn’t bother fastening a loosened button—he wasn’t going to give the enemy any breathing room.
But fortune did not favor him: the white fluff entered the airways and induced paralysis; his movements lagged by half a beat.
The powerful impulse returned. Su Er’s vision blurred; through the haze he saw a white filament being cut by a sharp blade and heard himself slur, “Ji Heng… save—”
He would rather be butchered than be raped to death—there was nothing more humiliating.
Lu Lanxin had fixed on Su Er with predatory certainty and stepped forward with a triumphant smile—but at that moment, her hand was suddenly slashed and blood spattered.
Her injury reduced the bewitching influence on Su Er; regaining clarity, he kicked her.
Ji Heng flicked his dagger and looked over. “You okay?”
Su Er straightened his clothes. “Teenage nightmares,” he muttered.
Ji Heng had also been somewhat affected by the white fluff and advocated a swift finish. After Su Er’s kick toppled Lu Lanxin, Ji Heng showed no mercy and sliced the tendons in one of her hands.
Su Er ran to open the door and stood where the air flowed, looking at Li Shuo whose face had gone cold. “What are you going to do?”
Li Shuo sneered: “Retract what I said five minutes ago—no physical exam. We’ll go straight to slicing tissue samples.”
The white fluff in the air didn’t diminish.
Ji Heng frowned. “Watch for decoys—don’t let them slip out.”
Li Shuo dragged the temporarily weakened Lu Lanxin to a corner. “If you don’t behave, I’ll set fire to the room and burn both you and the place,” he warned.
The threat seemed to work—the annoying white fluff began to dissipate.
Lu Lanxin’s pitiful, fragile act had vanished; her gaze now seemed to want to strip them to the bone.
They had gained results, yet not one of them showed a trace of joy. The fact that invasive creatures could dwell in the human body, further seizing the entire vessel, was undeniably terrifying.
Even more troubling was the intelligence the creatures themselves displayed.
Sensing danger, it had immediately framed others, then used the child to draw attention. If the plan had succeeded, the major factions would have scrambled to seize the newborn for research, while she could have openly continued living.
Li Shuo’s expression was grave. “Let’s hope this is just an isolated case.”
Su Er glanced at him but stayed silent—deep down he knew this was only the beginning.
“I’ll personally escort her back,” Li Shuo said, altering his original plan due to the sudden incident. “If anything comes up, call me.”
Ji Heng: “When the test results are out, I hope we can get a simplified report.”
Li Shuo didn’t have the authority to promise. He only said, “I’ll report to my superiors.”
Once Lu Lanxin was taken away, Ji Heng fetched a glass jar, went to the refrigerator, and scooped the struggling larvae from the powder into the container.
Unfortunately, the mesh at the window lost its vitality with Lu Lanxin’s departure and quickly scattered into the wind.
Su Er stared at the bug in the jar. He had seen a few disaster films before—biological invasions were among the trickiest scenarios.
Ji Heng suddenly put the jar away, and Su Er, realizing something, turned around. Before long, a slim figure appeared in the corridor.
He forced a smile. “Good morning.”
Princess Camellia clearly disliked the foul air of the room, remaining at the threshold and casting them a look, as if to say you know what to do.
Su Er took the hint and walked out of the apartment; Ji Heng followed.
They moved silently until they reached the roadside, where a familiar camper van was parked beneath a large tree. Passersby couldn’t help but glance at it.
When they boarded, all the players were present—but compared to yesterday, one fewer. The host was the last to enter, and the sound of the closing door perfectly conveyed his current mood.
Su Er did his best to maintain a polite curve to his lips. “Came especially to pick us up?”
Princess Camellia ignored the question.
Xu Yangyang came over and whispered, “We should switch locations today.”
The three predetermined sites were Tianjia Temple, the rental apartment, and the library. With the rental apartment mercilessly cleared by Su Er and Ji Heng, only the library remained.
“I’ll rearrange the schedule,” Princess Camellia finally said. “From two o’clock this afternoon until tomorrow morning, everyone must stay inside the library.”
Su Er reminded them that their movements were currently being monitored.
“I’ll handle it.”
He wanted to say more, but Princess Camellia shot him a death glare. Su Er shut his mouth, disgruntled.
The library was closed that day. The director personally handed over the keys to Princess Camellia, and his oral report was nearly identical to what the temple abbot had said.
“Lately, customers often fall asleep while reading and remain unconscious until closing. It takes great effort to wake them.” The director looked troubled. “Some people have already posted about it online, calling it an urban legend.”
Princess Camellia gave the same assurance, saying it would be taken care of.
Softly, Su Er asked, “What happened to Liu Lang’s body?”
Xu Yangyang shook his head. “The host cleaned up. Everyone else waited in the van at the time.”
Su Er nodded, then shifted his attention to the library and searched online for related information.
It was the most famous library in the city, with a distinctive exterior design. Its vintage clock tower was especially well known, to the point that many film crews came to shoot here.
It was exactly one o’clock. The tower bell rang, its deep tolling ancient and solemn. Even Su Er couldn’t help but assume a reverent air while listening.
Seeing him nearly entranced, Ji Heng chuckled. “Like it that much?”
Drawing back his gaze, Su Er’s lips curved. “Not exactly. Just feels absurd—like a countdown.”
Ji Heng didn’t respond, but he cast another glance at the clock tower.
With plenty of time left, Princess Camellia allowed them to have lunch or wander nearby, with only one rule: they had to be inside the library by two.
With a new crisis looming, no one tried to stand out. They unanimously chose a small restaurant nearby.
Su Er quickly wolfed down his food, then ran to a shop to buy chocolate and small energy drinks. After haggling with the shopkeeper, he also purchased a black backpack.
Crossing the street, Ji Heng gave the bag a little lift and found it heavy. Opening the zipper, he discovered a packet of soil inside. Instantly, he knew what Su Er was planning. “Clay figure?”
Su Er nodded. “The insect eggs can be used for experiments.”
Clay figures counted as a kind of makeshift spirit vessel. He wanted to see just how destructive the bugs could be.
Ji Heng mused, “Lu Lanxin merely let her child be taken as an experimental subject. You, on the other hand, are ready to do it yourself.”
Far more cautious indeed.
“......”a
Of the three sites, the library was actually the one Su Er most wanted to visit. If he could find relevant records there, it would help him better understand this world.
At about 1:50, everyone gathered inside the library.
Princess Camellia seemed to have recovered from yesterday’s setback, smiling as he said, “I hope everyone tries not to damage the books, and when running for your lives, please tread lightly so you don’t disturb my sleep.”
Su Er suddenly thought of Mister East West—hosts who loved sleeping usually didn’t have the best of luck.
After giving a couple of instructions, the host let them roam freely and disappeared.
Spending about fifteen minutes circling the place, Su Er had a general grasp of the overall layout.
The library had four floors in total. The first floor only displayed some famous literary classics, with most of the space used to sell souvenirs. The second floor held the most books. The third floor contained newspapers and magazines from past years. The fourth floor housed a pottery gallery and a rest-and-exchange area, with photos of book club events pasted on the walls.
Before nightfall, small wisps of white fluff could be seen in the air, scattered at wide intervals.
Su Er stopped and looked at Ji Heng. “Where do you want to start?”
“The third floor.”
As they turned the corner, a small cluster of white fluff drifted over. Su Er was about to sidestep it, but the fluff detoured first and looped back. He froze. “These eggs have awareness?”
Ji Heng had already noticed this back at Tianjia Temple. He nodded. “Not very intelligent.”
A pessimistic voice chimed in, “I think this world is finished.”
Su Er turned around and saw it was Xu Yangyang. Naturally friendly, he came closer. “Brother, what clues have you found?”
Since they owed him a favor from before, Su Er didn’t hold back and explained the whole incident with Lu Lanxin.
Xu Yangyang was stunned—he hadn’t expected him to be so generous.
Just as Su Er was about to leave, he hesitated and called out, “Wait.”
“What else?”
Xu Yangyang said, “I won’t take for free either. Last night I inhaled too much of the fluff. My reaction slowed down and I thought I was surely dead, but I survived thanks to the peach tree at the temple.”
Su Er was surprised. “The female ghost didn’t trouble you?”
Xu Yangyang: “In fact, she never showed herself at all.”
“......”a
Xu Yangyang continued, “And masks don’t work. We made a few yesterday, but this stuff seeps through everything.”
Su Er nodded in acknowledgment. His smile vanished the moment he turned away. Reaching the other side, he said bleakly, “So the pink-clad ghost kills by day, but at night she can offer protection?”
And yet he was the one who got killed.
Ji Heng reminded him, “You received a peach blossom petal.”
Su Er could only take that as consolation—it wasn’t a complete loss.
The third floor’s newspapers were neatly arranged. Walking in, one was instantly met with a heavy sense of historical vicissitudes.
In a flash, Su Er understood why Ji Heng wanted to come here first.
On the way earlier, he had deliberately kept watch and noticed that these white fluffs were rare on the streets. So far, they only appeared in the three points designated by the host.
Their clustering in these specific locations must serve some purpose. And among all the library floors, the third had the most fluff.
The two divided the work clearly: Su Er looked through magazines, Ji Heng searched newspapers.
Because the pink-clad female ghost who died at the temple had clothing resembling last century’s style, they both began with older records.
With the sheer volume, reading everything one by one was impossible. Su Er decided to start with the catalogs—and unexpectedly, he really found something. His eyes were quickly drawn to the words “Peach Blossom Banquet.” He immediately read the entire article.
It turned out that long ago, the Peach Blossom Banquet was like a festival, celebrated every year. On that day, there was singing, dancing, and flower viewing. But over twenty years ago, the event was abruptly canceled.
Closing the magazine, Su Er suddenly asked, “How old are you this year?”
“Twenty-seven,” Ji Heng replied.
Su Er lowered his gaze. They said seven years marked a cycle of reincarnation, and Ji Heng was exactly seven years older than him.
Ji Heng walked over. “Found something?”
Su Er pointed to a passage. “The Peach Blossom Banquet was canceled twenty-seven years ago.”
Meeting each other’s eyes, he started searching online for information about it. It seemed deliberately restricted—barely a page of entries could be found.
“The official reason was that the Peach Blossom Banquet was too close to another festival, so the holiday was moved back to make a longer break.”
Rescheduling holidays wasn’t unprecedented. It sounded reasonable.
As for the origin of the Peach Blossom Banquet, the records were unreliable. Supposedly, it was a festival set aside for flower viewing, with legends saying that worshiping peach blossoms brought good matches in marriage.
Ji Heng muttered, “Search for films and books that were banned twenty-seven years ago.”
Su Er tried and discovered that some netizens had indeed compiled lists of works banned over the years. Most permanently banned novels had excessive eroticism or promoted violence. Only one was labeled as promoting superstition—it was called Peach.
But no matter how hard he searched, the original text was gone.
After thinking it over, he entered a forum called Folk Tales, posting a request for the book. To avoid censorship, he used pinyin instead of Chinese characters and offered a fifty-yuan reward.
Ji Heng’s voice carried a hint of amusement. “A huge bounty.”
Su Er shrugged. “Too high and it’ll arouse suspicion.”
The tactic really worked—soon someone sent him a private message, even attaching a whole collection of banned writings.
The story Peach had a touch of magical realism. In the author’s telling, just as fish evolved fins in order to survive in water, every human body in this world concealed a peach blossom seed, able to resist a kind of germ called insect poison. The story followed how the protagonist’s seed mutated and led him to become a legend.
Su Er: “And this got banned?”
The main plotline clearly wasn’t the problem. The only issue must have been the story’s background.
Ji Heng: “Maybe we’ve fallen into some kind of mental trap.”
Su Er realized it too. “No matter what, insect eggs can’t possibly sprout into peach blossoms. By the story’s logic, the two are opposed.”
And when opposition couldn’t be contained, an extreme method was used—destroying the host outright.
Being the hands-on type, Su Er went to a quiet, hidden corner, took out his backpack, and started molding a little clay figure.
He was quite skilled at this now. Soon, a lifelike figurine took shape. Carefully, he embedded a larva into its body. Almost instantly, the clay figure began to sway side to side, its expression turning cruel as it stared at Su Er.
Seeing this, Su Er fell into thought. “When Xu Fan and Liu Lang died, peach blossoms grew out of their bodies. Maybe the game really has altered players’ physiques.”
Ji Heng: “If insect poison really exists, that’s no surprise.”
Without altering their bodies, how could anyone survive in this world, let alone complete missions?
Before Su Er could act, Ji Heng cut his own palm with a dagger. “Let me try.”
Blood dripped onto the spot where the insect was buried. The clay figure twitched, its gaze still terrifying.
Su Er frowned. “The insect still has the upper hand.”
He pulled out the peach blossom petal. Before he could do anything, it attached itself automatically, slowly fusing with the figure. The clay doll’s expression returned to normal, spat once, and expelled the thoroughly dead insect.
Confirming the petal could suppress the eggs, Su Er moved to retrieve it.
The clay figure’s halting voice said, “Fused… halfway.”
“......”a
Ji Heng: “The petal was given to you by the ghost, carrying yin energy. That makes it particularly suited to the clay figure’s body.”
A treasure nearly bought with his life—gone just like that… Hearing this, Su Er’s eyes went hollow. After a long while, he put away the clay figure, his steps unsteady as he headed down. “I’ll check the second floor, see if I can find any records on the Peach Blossom Banquet.”
Most players were gathered on the second floor. When they saw Su Er drifting in like a ghost, Jia Kanhua, closest to the door, waved a hand in front of his face. “What’s wrong with you? You look soulless.”
Su Er forced a twitch of a smile and buried himself in reading to distract himself.
The method worked—focusing hard, he really did manage to find fragments in old historical records. As he carefully jotted notes, his arm suddenly began to itch.
Beside him, Jia Kanhua was already scratching himself raw, blood surfacing. Zhu Yu was the fastest to react. “Out!”
More and more fluff was gathering in the reading room, pouring out from every hidden corner. Su Er bolted without hesitation. From all directions, insect eggs floated toward him—far more than the number they had seen in the rental apartment by day.
Maybe it was just his imagination, but all the drifting fluff seemed to be surging toward him. On the second floor, it was like a blizzard of goose down, blinding his sight.
Then he felt movement in his pocket. Reaching in, he found the clay figure was gone.
“Damn it.”
Cursing under his breath, he understood—the fluff was coming for the clay figure.
He was hemmed in, unable to take a step. The weightless eggs, when clumped together, pressed down like a thousand pounds, making it impossible to even lift his hands.
On the third floor—
Where the fluff had been densest, the air was clearing. Ji Heng, sensing something, set down the newspaper, walked to the stairwell, and quickly spotted Su Er engulfed by the white swarm.
He stepped forward—at the same time, a cold voice drifted from behind.
“That little clay figure is close to complete fusion. If all goes well, you could extract an antibody from it. Save the clay figure or save Su Er—choose carefully.” Princess Camellia had appeared at some point, leaning against the railing with a sly smile.
Ji Heng didn’t spare her a glance and continued straight toward Su Er.
She raised her voice. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you. Saving the doll could increase your odds of survival.”
This time, Ji Heng finally stopped, turning to look at her.
Princess Camellia smiled. “Changed your mind…”
Before she could finish, he cut her off, his face expressionless, each word like a hammer.
“I—protect—the big one.”
“......”
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