The game was fairly humane—once the news spread, every player who saw the forum post discovered that a pre-collection progress bar had appeared in the upper-left corner of their status panel. With a simple click, they could upload the materials they had on hand.
The three required items—withered branches, cracked soils, and muddy liquid—were all completely useless materials that randomly dropped while fighting monsters. Each one required one million units.
In the blink of an eye, He Wuning noticed the pre-collection bar rising at an astonishing speed. Once the players trapped in the safe zone realized there was still something they could contribute, their enthusiasm flared immediately.
At this rate, it wasn’t impossible to gather everything before 8 p.m.
Scrolling through the forum, Q‑chan gasped in amazement. “Wow! There are really people who hoarded this much useless stuff!”
He Wuning glanced over curiously. Beneath the official forum post were countless player comments with screenshots. Amid rows of pointless “group photos” and lamentations about having sold those materials long ago, there were also a few genuinely useful posts: “Am I the only one who never wants to sell anything in a game and insists on sorting everything neatly in the warehouse?”
The attached image showed stacks of various materials, each piled to 999.
“I’ve been farming slimes in the wastelands for ten thousand years. My heart is as cold as my sword. No one can take away my long-hoarded trash treasures! But if my homeland needs them, then pretend I never said that. Darling, have you seen enough? If not, Mommy’s going to solo slimes again right now!”
Another post read: The accompanying image showed a garbage-heap-like pile of messy but astonishingly abundant materials.
He Wuning chuckled. “Players like that do exist sometimes—kind of… hoarder-type players.”
Watching the material count continue to surge upward, he let out a quiet breath. “I’m starting to look forward to 8 p.m.”
Outside, the thunder finally stopped. The dense storm clouds vanished just as quickly as they had appeared. Q‑chan immediately announced, “Ten minutes! It lasted ten whole minutes!”
“No idea if the other effects will also last ten minutes.”
“There’s nothing we can do about that,” He Wuning said, patting Q‑chan on the head. They were already close to the treatment center, which was noticeably livelier than the edge of the safe zone. After the storm ended, many players had come out to collect supplies.
He Wuning noticed several hesitant players from other zones lingering nearby. He released Q‑chan. “You can go help translate over there. They look a bit too shy to come closer.”
Q‑chan puffed out his chest proudly. “Got it! I’m on it! Friends from foreign lands—!”
He bobbed up and down as he flew off.
Watching him leave, He Wuning heard Yi Luo say, “You should get some sleep. You didn’t rest at all yesterday. If we’re attacking later, you’d better recover your energy now.”
“You talk like you slept,” He Wuning replied, pulling out a sleeping bag and tossing one to him without ceremony. “Park the car. We’re both sleeping.”
Standing by the door, Xing Yue looked conflicted. “Am I… kind of unnecessary here?”
Yi Luo laughed. “If you want to stay and be the kindergarten teacher watching over our nap, we don’t mind.”
“I mind!” Xing Yue shot back irritably.
Xing Yue went off to help distribute supplies. The two of them dragged their sleeping bags into the expanded rear compartment of the milk tea car. After laying down a soft carpet, it was far more comfortable than sleeping outdoors.
Yi Luo stared at the ceiling. “Can you actually fall asleep?”
“If you stop talking, I can,” He Wuning replied with his eyes closed.
“I just thought I should ask in advance.” Yi Luo glanced at the stuffed toy He Wuning had ruthlessly placed between them. “If I fall asleep and accidentally cross this line—”
He Wuning opened his eyes, staring at him coldly with killing intent. “That depends on whether it’s really ‘accidental.’”
Yi Luo chuckled under his breath. “Then I’ll be extra careful.”
“Do you think Q would faint on the spot if he came back and found us sleeping together?”
“Shut up,” He Wuning said, already closing his eyes again.
Their sleep wasn’t peaceful. Two hours later, the entire Zone A began to tremble again. He Wuning jolted awake. Yi Luo was already standing by the window, forum interface open.
“You’re awake?” Yi Luo didn’t turn around, his eyes fixed on the screen. “Looks like the attacks happen once every hour. This is the third one.”
“Third?” All drowsiness vanished from He Wuning as he sat up.
“The second one sent a hurricane to Zone E. Heavy casualties,” Yi Luo said flatly. “This one’s for us—a quake.”
“Looks like our aggro level with the monsters isn’t low. This is aimed straight at us.”
“Q is helping calm the out-of-zone players and taking them to temporary shelters. He’s surprisingly useful, and he’s with Xing Yue—no need to worry.” Yi Luo turned back and smiled reassuringly. “Relax. Zhao Yantong’s barrier is spherical—it can handle attacks from underground too. Go back to sleep.”
He Wuning glanced outside. The streets were empty; everyone had clearly found shelter in advance. Though the ground of Zone A was shaking, it remained stable.
Reassured, he slowly sat back down and rubbed his temples. “I’ll sleep after the shaking stops.”
He looked at Yi Luo by the window. “What about you? Didn’t sleep?”
Yi Luo half-turned with a smile that was half sincere, half joking. “For the sake of my personal safety—and to keep myself from being executed on the spot by you for crossing the line—I’ve decided I’d better not sleep just yet.”
He Wuning stared at him without a trace of expression.
Yi Luo could only shrug and answer honestly. “Didn’t sleep. Not sleepy.”
He Wuning stood up, grabbed the cushion beside him, hooked Yi Luo with it, and pressed him down onto the soft padding.
Yi Luo raised both hands to show he had no intention of resisting, smiling helplessly. “You’re going to make me think you’re planning to do something else to me like this.”
He Wuning raised an eyebrow. “Something else?”
Yi Luo gave him a deliberately suggestive smile. He Wuning was already bracing himself for the guy to say something indecent, but instead Yi Luo tugged at his collar, revealing a well-shaped, imagination-provoking collarbone—and then abruptly swerved back onto the straight and narrow. “I’m worried you’ll take the chance to beat me up.”
He Wuning unconsciously clenched his fist.
Yi Luo let out a muffled laugh. He Wuning immediately pressed the cushion down over his face and clicked his tongue. “Sometimes just seeing your face makes me angry.”
Yi Luo seized the moment when the cushion loosened to gasp for air. “Mr. He Wuning, I feel obliged to remind you that your current behavior is already bordering on attempted murder.”
“I hope you’ll reconsider. No matter how you look at it, I’m still an innocent little life.”
“Shut up. Close your eyes.” He Wuning removed the cushion, sat cross-legged in front of him, and looked down at his face from above. “Sleep.”
Yi Luo sighed helplessly. “This is a bit different from how I imagined being lulled to sleep…”
He Wuning lifted an eyebrow.
Yi Luo tilted his head slightly to look at him and held out a hand. “Then how about you hold my hand?”
He was deliberately pushing his luck, but he hadn’t expected He Wuning to actually take his hand. For a moment, the warmth from another person felt unfamiliar to him.
He Wuning tightened his grip hard. The force in his palm was almost enough to crush Yi Luo’s finger bones. He Wuning curled his lips, staring down at him. “Fine. You’d better not tell me to let go.”
Yi Luo hissed, “Tss.”
Red marks bloomed where their palms met. Yi Luo felt both amused and helpless, but since He Wuning had agreed to the request, he didn’t say anything more and obediently closed his eyes.
Not long after he shut them, the pressure from the other side gradually eased, though the hand still didn’t let go.
Yi Luo was used to facing the nightmares that came rushing in from the darkness, but this time seemed a little different.
Whether he was falling into an abyss or trapped in some other perilous situation, there was always the unmistakable warmth of another person passing through his hand. It was so distracting that he didn’t even have the mental space to deal with those familiar nightmares—his entire attention was fixed on his hand.
When Yi Luo opened his eyes again, He Wuning had one leg bent, his head tilted as he leaned against the carriage wall, eyes closed in a light doze. One hand was still stubbornly holding on to Yi Luo’s.
Yi Luo looked at their interlocked hands, hesitated for a moment, then gently squeezed back.
He Wu Ning jolted upright in alarm. If he hadn’t immediately recognized Yi Luo’s face, he probably would’ve drawn his blade on the spot.
He Wuning lowered his free hand from behind his back. The sharpness in his eyes faded, and he lazily yawned. “Why are you awake again? Didn’t sleep well?”
Yi Luo thought for a moment. “It’s hard to say whether I slept well or not.”
“If before it was like struggling in hell every day, then today it felt more like being hung over hell and forced to do one-armed pull-ups.”
He Wuning frowned in total confusion. “Huh?”
Yi Luo glanced at him and laughed softly. “Nothing.”
“I’m saying I slept very well.”
He gave their joined hands a little shake. He Wuning looked down and instinctively loosened his grip.
Yi Luo withdrew his hand with a hint of regret and checked the time. “Looks like it’s already past lunchtime. Seems they didn’t make any more moves against Zone A after that.”
“Mm.” He Wuning rolled his neck as he replied. “They probably realized they couldn’t break through.”
He opened the forum. “Someone compiled the later attacks. Looks like the focus shifted to the two newly opened areas, and also… Zone C?”
He Wuning frowned, sensing something subtly off.
Yi Luo glanced at him. “What is it?”
“Nothing.” He Wuning lowered his eyes. “I just think they shouldn’t have chosen Zone C.”
The monsters’ progress objective was to expand more fallen game zones. Zone C was already complete—so what would it accomplish even if they wiped out all the opposing players?
Unless the decision-maker on the monsters’ side was an idiot randomly picking areas, this didn’t make sense.
Yi Luo walked over to the window. Suddenly, Q-chan’s face plastered itself against the glass. Even though he was a system, his expression was full of resentment. “You guys… did you completely forget about me—”
“Damn it! I saw you being all lovey-dovey and holding hands through the window! I want to hold hands and sleep with my sweetie, too! Yi Luo! Come out and meet your death!”
He slammed against the window with loud bangs, his behavior extremely unhinged.
Yi Luo turned to He Wuning. “Your system’s gone crazy.”
He Wuning opened the window. Q-chan dove straight in, wailing as he wriggled toward He Wuning’s arms. “Sweetie—”
“It’s my fault for leaving, sob sob sob, I shouldn’t have left you—”
He Wuning covered his ears and knocked him on the head. “Anything strange going on?”
“Strange?” Q-chan abruptly stopped crying and tilted his head. “Ah, no attacks on Zone A after the third wave—that counts as strange, right?”
He Wuning nodded, and Q-chan immediately perked up, spilling all the intel he had. “Also, more and more people from other zones are coming over! Especially from Zone C! Seems someone posted on their forum about Zone A having a protective barrier, so a lot of people rushed over!”
He planted his hands on his hips. “Ah, but don’t worry. There weren’t many people left there to begin with, and the numbers coming over are still manageable.”
“And some of them have abilities that’ll be pretty helpful!”
The round little system looked very optimistic, but for some reason, He Wuning felt an increasingly unsettling sense of dissonance.
He lifted his gaze toward the Zone C people near the treatment center, exotic-looking. As their numbers grew, they no longer bothered hiding their appearances.
He Wuning’s expression turned thoughtful. “Zone C… what god do they worship?”
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The author has something to say:
Q-chan: My sweetie—if I don’t watch for a moment, some pig comes along and steals him away, sob sob sob.
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