In some respects, Ji Heng and Su Er were completely alike and yet utterly opposite.
The former thought things through meticulously; the latter also cared about logic, but that didn’t stop him from indulging in melodramatic daydreams. So the moment the side quest unlocked, Su Er’s first reaction was: what if Ji Heng is the key?
Who could have predicted things would actually go in the worst possible direction? Luckily, the game required a decision before midnight, so confusing the clock was the best tactic.
Su Er took the tablet under the pretext of charging it, guided the players to use the clock tower as the time reference, and quietly had the little clay figure slow the clock’s hands.
Everything went surprisingly smoothly.
One moment he looked cold and resolute; the next he was grinning broadly, clapping like a seal: “Great — no way out. Now everyone can fight shoulder to shoulder.”
In the hush of night, the slowed clock began to chime on the hour — twelve times — a sound strangely ironic.
Zhu Yu summed up everyone’s feelings in one line: “Is he the devil reborn?”
“First let’s find somewhere to hide,” Jia Kanhua said, looking at the increasingly rampant white fluff in the air and coming to terms with reality.
There weren’t many people outside, and their spot was conspicuous. If they ran into a successful parasite, it would be very bad.
Su Er, as expected, said: “Back to the library.”
Jia Kanhua’s eye twitched as a reminder: “It’s full of white-fluff in there, and one of the parasites is chasing Xu Yangyang.”
Su Er was firm: “Hiding isn’t the solution. We have to get information out of Feng Peng.”
Jia Kanhua pressed his eyelid to stop it twitching: “Why didn’t you ask during the day?”
“Because you guys wouldn’t care?”
Su Er replied, looking at them with an expression of ‘you kids are clueless.’
“......”a
The group reluctantly unified their plan. Handling one parasite together wouldn’t be hard. They returned to the library, but when they arrived Xu Yangyang had already neutralized the threat. The salaryman had fallen from above into a smear of meat; white fluff spewed madly out of him, and Xu Yangyang had tossed his coat on and set it alight.
A few minutes after the game announced the side quest failure, Xu Yangyang nearly spat blood. Hearing the others wanted to see the old man, his face went even paler — he had worked hard just to get downstairs alive.
The third floor was a white fluff disaster zone; Su Er wasn’t sure they could pass safely. He cleared his throat and called out loud: “Scientist Feng, could we have a word?”
A minute passed; nothing appeared.
Not discouraged, Su Er smiled faintly and told the others: “I’m going to tell a nostalgic, powerless little love story.”
He had barely finished the sentence when a chill forced him back several steps; he nearly bumped into a pillar, but Ji Heng pulled him back just in time.
Feng Peng had appeared. The old man’s expression had been a rich play of emotions since they first met him.
Su Er lowered his posture and put on a humbly inquisitive face: “You haven’t told us the details of the Core Project.”
The game wouldn’t randomly open a side quest; a 50% boost to survival rate was proof this project could temporarily stabilize society.
As Su Er spoke, Feng Peng glanced at Ji Heng with complicated eyes; Ji Heng, in turn, watched Su Er from the corner of his eye.
Princess Tea Flower observed the three of them thoughtfully, sensing an odd atmosphere.
“Over three hundred years ago, the planet humans lived on was predicted to explode within fifty years,” Feng Peng finally said, recounting a not-very-exhilarating past.
“In fact, forward-thinking nations had already started planning for migration centuries earlier. During the long search we found one planet most suitable for life—climate, water, temperature all perfect—except it was almost entirely inhabited by insects.”
As expected, after humans cooperated to exterminate the insects, they successfully settled the new world.
Xu Yangyang asked quickly: “Why is that part of history blank?”
Feng Peng sneered: “You don’t just wipe out insects clean. Before the migration, scientists made the worst-case predictions: a single bite could kill from infection.”
Human plans fell short of the unknown; the real surprise was that these insects could parasitize.
Xu Yangyang’s mouth twitched: “That conclusion seems a bit hasty!”
Feng Peng: “There wasn’t enough time.”
An explosion could happen at any moment; a global migration is a massive, slow process.
Seeing the old man grow impatient, Xu Yangyang shut up and didn’t interrupt further.
“Not long after the migration began, there came nearly half a century of darkness. Later, research found that peach blossoms could counter the insects,” Feng Peng sighed. “After a vaccine was developed, we thought the problem was solved.”
Many details were glossed over—some special-case experiments had crossed ethical boundaries; live-subject experiments almost became open practice.
Su Er muttered: “Everything evolves.”
Feng Peng for once shot him an approving glance: “Right. The insects couldn’t be exterminated, and each time they receded, their parasitic ability grew stronger. Then, decades ago… a true genius appeared.”
Su Er noticed that as he said this, his gaze returned to Ji Heng.
“That person’s research always stayed one step ahead of the eggs’ evolution. He concluded that within thirty years the eggs would evolve to a point beyond control.”
Su Er instinctively felt unease at what would come next.
“Sadly, even geniuses die,” Feng Peng continued slowly. “Because of irregular habits, that person contracted a terminal illness at a young age. Well-intentioned warnings were mistaken for declining sanity, and someone proposed…”
“Proposed what?” someone asked.
“Change his body,” Feng Peng said.
Faces registered disbelief. Feng Peng smiled bitterly: “You don’t understand—his research up to that point was so remarkable that he was treated like a savior.”
Xu Yangyang thought of sci-fi plots about source code and joked.
Feng Peng shook his head: “More precisely, it was brain transplantation technology—transplant his brain into a young, healthy body.”
Hearing that, Su Er felt his chest tighten and spoke sharply: “Aren’t you afraid of divine retribution?”
Zhu Yu also felt moved: “He fought for science his whole life, and this was the end of it.”
Human hearts can be cold.
“Pitiful? Not necessarily,” Feng Peng returned to his cold tone. “He was harsher. Afterward he proposed the Core Project. He gathered top scientists and produced a report proving the eggs could not be eradicated. The report said: to survive, the Core Project is the only way.”
Finally at the crucial point, everyone held their breath.
Feng Peng’s voice trembled: “The report said that if the eggs can’t be eliminated, we must change ourselves. The insects’ destructive power is parasitism—if there’s no body, the problem is solved.”
“......”
Xu Yangyang looked strange: “That’s nonsense, right?”
To encourage all humanity to collectively ‘self-suicide’?
Feng Peng looked at him with the expression one might reserve for watching a goldfish.
Xu Yangyang suddenly remembered the source code he’d mentioned a few minutes earlier and whispered, “Anyone with eyes can see this is revenge.”
“On the contrary,” Feng Peng said. “Knowing he couldn’t resist the higher-ups’ decisions, he calmly accepted the brain transplantation plan and explained that it was precisely because of this that he gained inspiration. He then collaborated with a group of mad scientists to develop a special device that allowed humans to exist in a virtual world in soul form. The device’s core is called the Core, equivalent to the ‘key,’ and he volunteered to take this position himself.”
Everyone’s attention focused entirely on the old man, so Su Er, deep in thought, went unnoticed.
At that moment, he understood many things. No wonder in Ji Heng’s memories, Feng Peng had tried to seize the Core—not only out of arrogance, but also because having Ji Heng occupy the Core was like planting a ticking time bomb.
“And then?” Su Er asked, seeing Feng Peng seemed lost in distant memories.
“The day after the Core Project was approved, the relevant personnel’s memories mysteriously disappeared—and so did I.”
The information then matched what they had obtained from the diary: the old man had ‘suicided’ to preserve his memories, and his body was stored in a cold chamber.
“Wait!” Zhu Yu’s pupils constricted as she pointed at Ji Heng. “He’s the key designated by the side quest, which means…”
Her words trailed off, her voice sharp and nearly lost, trembling as she looked at Ji Heng. “How old are you this year?”
As the leader of Grave Return, Ji Heng’s basic information wasn’t a secret. Zhu Yu already knew, but she couldn’t help asking again.
Ji Heng answered calmly, in a way that was unsettling: “Twenty-seven.”
Zhu Yu immediately squeezed her eyes shut… Twenty-seven years ago, the initiator of the Core Project disappeared, and in the real world, a newborn named Ji Heng appeared.
No… was this really the real world?
If he himself was originally from the instance, could she be too?
Ji Heng said coldly, “Overthinking won’t help. Better focus on completing the mission.”
Hearing this, Zhu Yu stared at him, trying to detect any emotion on his face—but failed. A chill of fear ran through her. For an ordinary person, hearing this information—even without breaking down—would be psychologically difficult. That Ji Heng remained utterly composed was truly terrifying.
Xu Yangyang thought further and gave a dry laugh: “Are we knowing too much?”
There was a constant feeling that the game might silence them.
Su Er raised an eyebrow slightly. It was highly likely the side quest would expose Ji Heng’s identity as a native of the instance, yet the game released it openly—illogical, to say the least.
At that moment, Feng Peng finally shook off the memories completely, his smile eerie: “Had I known I could access higher truths after death, I would have ended my life a few years earlier.”
Ghosts, rules… only by experiencing them firsthand could one realize how narrow-minded they had been.
Ji Heng’s goal remained clear: “Who first invaded this planet?”
Feng Peng was caught off guard and muttered, “History from three hundred years ago was already erased. I only know roughly because of my research, and I had to follow confidentiality rules…” He paused. “No, that person should know—he was very interested in ancient history.”
He chuckled softly: “Too bad you missed it.”
Between the lines, he implied that if Ji Heng agreed to be restored as the key, he would learn who the original invader was.
Su Er subtly signaled the others to step outside, allowing them to talk privately.
The night wind was cold, yet the people were dazed. Thinking that the real world might itself be virtual made Zhu Yu shiver.
Xu Yangyang worried even more about the game silencing them, so he changed the topic to distract attention: “Hopefully Ji Heng can extract some useful clues.”
The glass window had shattered when the salaryman forced entry; from a distance, they could clearly see the standoff between one human and one ghost. They just hoped no outsiders were present, so Feng Peng, out of personal grudges, might unintentionally reveal information.
Inside the library:
Princess Tea Flower broke the silence first, a hint of schadenfreude in his tone: “Honestly, only you know who the original invader was. If the Central Project is completed, you’ll regain your memory and live in this world as a native again. Other players could then safely withdraw… Hah, what a profitable deal.”
“Half an hour ago, I thought the same,” Ji Heng said lightly.
But seeing Su Er painstakingly sabotage the side quest, he abandoned that thought. No one had ever done so much for him—Su Er had given him a new reason to survive.
Princess Tea Flower had a photographic memory and remembered Ji Heng’s expression at the time—obviously moved. Combined with his current words… some truths were now undeniable.
Truly amusing and ironic.
“You’re moved.”
The tone was firm.
Ji Heng did not deny it. His eyes betrayed no joy or sadness: “Su Er is different. He’s young, energetic… once he decides, nothing changes.”
Feng Peng couldn’t help but interject: “But didn’t you love me?”
“......”
Princess Tea Flower was shocked… What?!
The wrinkles on Feng Peng’s face deepened in confusion: “Since you admit the brain is the most… sensitive part, why do you now like the young?”
Ji Heng fixed his gaze on him: “Because love fades.”
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