Su Er wondered if his judgment of people had gone off lately, because he actually heard a trace of sincerity in the host’s words.
Sincerely praising him?
He immediately raised his guard, using the eye within his body to peer at the other man, trying to find evidence that the host was possessed. But the reflection in that mysterious eye was exactly the same as the real figure.
“Not possessed?” Su Er let out a surprised hum, genuinely taken aback by the result.
Princess Tea Flower tilted his head back slightly and said softly, “Remember to stay true to your original heart.”
“......”a
Su Er pondered for a few seconds, then decided to ask directly—only to be interrupted by the game’s prompt:
[Player Ji Heng returns the mad scientist’s brain, unlocking the side quest “The Key of the Core.”]
[Before midnight, if the player successfully restores the key to its place, total survival probability increases by 50%.]
“So fast.” Su Er gave heartfelt praise—Ji Heng’s efficiency was indeed not ordinary.
If it had been him, he’d probably still be struggling to pry open the corpse’s skull.
His gaze accidentally swept over the host’s expression, and the curve of his own lips quickly pressed into a line. Just now, for a fleeting instant, Princess Tea Flower’s eyes held a trace of amusement. The man was too good at hiding his emotions—Su Er wasn’t sure if he’d imagined it.
With a snap of his fingers, Princess Tea Flower’s voice spread across every corner of the library. It wasn’t harsh; even standing right in front of him, Su Er could admit without bias that it was still low and pleasant.
“The side quest is open, restrictions are lifted. In half an hour, everyone can freely enter and leave the library.”
Just then, the tower clock struck the hour, the melodious chime seeming to cleanse the heart.
Princess Tea Flower revealed a strange smile. “Fate is like a pendulum. That he personally unlocked the side quest… is simply too interesting.”
Su Er didn’t reply. Perverts often claimed the world was dull and boring, yet the word they used most frequently was always “interesting.”
Seeing the man’s lips about to move again, before the first sound could be made, Princess Tea Flower vanished, giving Su Er no chance to engage him further.
The group chat notification tones rang continuously:
[Xu Yangyang: Bro, awesome! Requesting location share for group meet-up.]
[Zhu Yu: +1.]
[Jia Kanhua: Count me in!]
The side quest was triggered by Ji Heng. The others didn’t know the details and could only extract information from those directly involved.
Ji Heng, unwilling to meet, simply explained in the group about Feng Peng—leaving out the part involving himself.
[Zhu Yu: Let’s meet. I’m in the third-floor reading room, and I have important clues to share.]
[Su Er: On my way now. But first, give a quick summary, in case something happens to you before we arrive.]
In the end, Zhu Yu didn’t share in the chat—just sent an ellipsis, expressing speechless frustration.
Su Er was the farthest from the third floor. By the time he ran up, everyone else was already there.
The drama of TV clichés didn’t happen—Zhu Yu was still alive. She immediately pulled out a worn notebook, recording an incredible experience.
The ink was faded with age, resembling a planner, mostly filled with schedules. Each page mentioned experiment times, showing that the owner was a researcher. His life had been regular—meals in the cafeteria.
But in the latter half, notes of beer, fried chicken, and late-night snacks appeared, along with little doodles of cute emoticons in the margins.
On the last page, the date skipped two months ahead, the tone abruptly reverting to its earlier stiff precision. For the first time, extra details appeared:
“My wife says I laugh in my sleep, even talk in my dreams, often mentioning the Core Project, though I don’t remember dreaming. Stranger still, for a week straight I’ve been saying the same dream words.”
“When I asked colleagues, they said it was stress. Reluctantly, I decided to take leave and rest for a few days. At that moment, Feng Peng came to me, saying he knew what the Core Project was. I was thrilled, ready to ask more, but he said the moment anyone tried to pass on related information, their memory of the project would fade even faster.”
The diary ended there.
Xu Yangyang: “Where’d this come from?”
Zhu Yu: “Met a ghost in the restroom. Barely beat it.”
She said it lightly, but the truth must have been life-or-death. Xu Yangyang hid his doubts. Since entering the game, Zhu Yu had always pushed for information exchange, and now she even gave away a clue bought with her own life—saints weren’t necessarily this selfless.
Zhu Yu said earnestly, “Leaving this instance alive means everything to me.”
This instance?
Su Er raised a brow—it sounded like whether she survived future ones didn’t matter. He considered it and sent Ji Heng a private message: [I think she’s planning something big once she gets out.]
Ji Heng glanced at Zhu Yu but gave no response.
Pretending not to notice the others’ suspicion, Zhu Yu lowered her head over the diary. “What do you all think?”
Su Er spoke first, pointing to the last line: “‘Fade even faster’ suggests that even without speaking, Feng Peng’s memory of the Core Project was already eroding.”
Zhu Yu nodded. “It seems some mysterious force was manipulating the memory from the shadows.”
Compared to other players, Su Er and Ji Heng had a massive advantage—they knew about the dead-end instance. The ones losing memory were NPCs, and the manipulator was clearly the game itself, erasing native memories of Ji Heng.
So when Zhu Yu wanted to dig into memory manipulation, Su Er ignored it, diverting attention instead: “The diary’s last entry was just one day before Feng Peng’s death.”
Jia Kanhua: “The two are very likely related, but we no longer have time to investigate further.”
Ji Heng, who had been silent, suddenly said, “Feng Peng committed suicide. Before dying, he asked the diary’s owner to preserve his body in cryo.”
Jia Kanhua froze.
Su Er agreed: “The game defines Feng Peng as a ‘mad scientist.’ His extraordinary brain delayed memory loss. But where’s the madness in that?”
At that, Jia Kanhua understood. “Death. Only death could freeze his memory forever at that moment.”
“Feng Peng preserved his body in a cryo chamber to keep it from rotting, later becoming a ghost.” Su Er leaned against the wall. “Because he was obsessed with his memories in life, he demanded players find his brain. Now that it’s been found, the breakthrough to the Core Project has appeared.”
In the end, everything circled back to the old man.
Xu Yangyang still vividly remembered Feng Peng’s frenzied chase after Su Er in the reading room, and groaned: “Great. Now that his brain’s restored, we’re dealing with a sane madman.”
“And one more thing,” Zhu Yu suddenly turned to Ji Heng. “It’s rare for a side quest to activate as a full-party mission.”
According to the prompt, as long as one player completed it, everyone benefited.
“Not hard to explain.”
Su Er opened a message forwarded from Li Shuo.
—White fluff had started appearing in streets and alleys. Since morning, there had already been over a hundred nationwide cases of ‘flower-implant deaths.’
—It’s out of control. Lu Lanxin isn’t an isolated case; people successfully parasitized are appearing in different places. If you have any leads, please get in touch immediately.
Li Shuo’s message looked calm on the surface, but it wasn’t hard to tell how much pressure he was under.
Su Er walked over to the window: “This world is about to fall into chaos.”
Most people, once parasitized, would have the peach blossom seeds in their bodies activated, leading to mutual destruction. But there are always exceptions. From Li Shuo’s earlier words, the places where the white fluff appeared over the years had always been just a few fixed areas. Now it seemed that had only been an illusion created by the insect eggs to make humans lower their guard.
No time to dwell on it, Su Er turned back and ordered everyone to hand over their tablets: “I’ll find a shop to charge them.”
The host hadn’t provided chargers, and players rarely used the tablets in daily tasks. After a few days, half the power still remained. But that didn’t mean the tablets weren’t important—especially now, when they had to monitor the news constantly.
Checking the time and confirming that the half-hour restriction had passed, Su Er shouldered his backpack and left the library.
After he left, the remaining players had no choice but to use Feng Peng as their breakthrough point.
On the fourth floor, a hint of clarity appeared in the old man’s eyes. Before speaking, his gaze lingered a moment longer on Ji Heng.
“The Core Project can save the world.”
The first words alone were enough to stir hope.
“If you want to know where the key is, first help me find something.”
“Many years ago, someone hid a manuscript in the library. I searched for years and never found it.” His tone carried visible irritation. “He clearly said it was placed on the fourth floor of the library, so why can’t I find it!”
Zhu Yu asked tentatively: “A manuscript about what?”
If you didn’t nitpick, even a few scribbles on a wall could count as a manuscript.
“How would I know?” The old man’s emotions were unstable. “Back then, I wanted to become the core, so I went to that person again and again. He grew impatient and finally said he’d hide a manuscript on the fourth floor. If I could find it, he would yield his position.”
Zhu Yu chose her words carefully: “That wasn’t fair to you. A single floor still has a large area.”
The old man: “At the time, he made me close my eyes and count three hundred seconds in place. Not long after, he returned, saying it was hidden.”
Zhu Yu pressed: “What was his personality like?”
It wasn’t impossible that he had lied and never hidden anything at all.
Catching her meaning, the old man sneered: “Don’t worry, that man always kept his word. But I suggest you hurry—these insect eggs are evolving. Every half hour, I’ll loosen part of my control over the fourth floor and allow the eggs in.”
Once he stopped suppressing them, facing the swarm of evolving eggs would leave them with only a dead end.
Something the old man had failed to find in decades—players now had to uncover within mere hours. It sounded like sheer fantasy.
Just as they were about to begin a carpet search, Xu Yangyang suddenly said: “Something’s happening outside.”
Pedestrians on the street were running in panic in all directions, flagging down taxis.
While they were guessing what had happened, Su Er returned. He looked miserable, his shirt nearly drenched in sweat, his backpack nowhere to be seen.
“Someone died nearby. The government sent mass texts telling residents to go home.”
Bending over and panting hard for a while, he finally managed to add: “I had bad luck, ran into someone who’d been fully parasitized—almost lost my life.”
Having just exerted himself so hard, he didn’t dare sit down suddenly. After a while, he found a spot to lean against. “And you? Any discoveries?”
Xu Yangyang recounted the old man’s request.
Su Er seemed thoughtful.
No one noticed his expression; pressed for time, the players divided the floor into sections, each taking an area to search for greater efficiency.
After resting a bit and waiting until the others had dispersed, Su Er walked over to Ji Heng’s side: “The one who made that bet with Feng Peng must have been you.”
Ji Heng nodded. In the scattered fragments of memory, Feng Peng had kept pressing him to yield the core position.
“Then we’ve struck gold.” Su Er wiped the sweat from his face and smiled. “Surprises always come when you least expect them.”
Even without the original memories, a person’s behavioral logic rarely changes much.
Eagerly, he asked: “Come on, think—where could it have been hidden?”
“The women’s restroom.” Ji Heng replied without hesitation.
Su Er chuckled and clapped him on the shoulder: “Don’t joke.”
“In five minutes, you couldn’t have gone far. If it were me, I’d get a woman to toss it into the trash bin of the ladies’ room.”
Convenient, and a clean break.
For a few seconds, Su Er’s smile faltered. “…That’s not really your style.”
Ji Heng nodded: “That’s probably what the old man thought, too.”
The wager was secondary. The real point was avoiding endless entanglement with a nagging man. If Feng Peng couldn’t find it, he would have gone on searching forever, constantly pestering him.
“…After so many years…”
Ji Heng answered lightly: “By normal cleaning schedule, the trash would have been hauled away that same night.”
For a long moment, Su Er said nothing.
In the silence, Ji Heng called his name.
Waving him off, Su Er stared up at the ceiling, then suddenly let out a long sigh: “My friend, you were a mischievous one, weren’t you!”
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