The game moved along efficiently. The police, acting on an anonymous tip, secretly conducted a search and soon caught both the culprits and the evidence. At the same time, Su Er also received another reward for serving as host—a USB drive.
After plugging it into the computer, a line of text popped up: [This program will self-destruct after viewing. Please ensure sufficient battery during playback. Recording is prohibited.]
When Ji Heng returned from grocery shopping, he found Su Er sitting in front of the monitor, fingers tapping impatiently on the table, muttering, “Why is it taking so long to load?”
Hearing the door close, Su Er instinctively clenched his fingers and smiled, asking the obvious: “You’re back?”
Ji Heng: “Checking grades?”
Because of the murderer incident, campus had been under lockdown for more than half a year. Students, eager to return, still had a few courses awaiting results.
Seeing Ji Heng walking over, Su Er explained the truth: “The game sent it.”
The price they had agreed upon earlier was one hundred eighty photos.
Ji Heng sat down beside him, amused. “Not watching the real thing, but photos instead?”
Su Er was a rational man who knew how to maximize his benefits: “A few years ago, you were younger. That was the golden peak of your looks and figure.”
“......”a
Finally, the loading icon disappeared. But instead of photos, what appeared was a video. And in the video were not only Ji Heng, but also Su Er himself. His features looked almost the same as they did now, chest badge in place, hair slightly longer…
If players were asked to pick the most hated instance type, survival-kill games would undoubtedly rank among the top three.
It was a broad category. Sometimes even survival games could be roughly lumped in, often sharing one key word—hunger.
At this moment, a rocking ship was sailing on the sea.
The instance required players to reach a designated location—an yizhuang (a place for temporary coffin storage). Before arriving, they still clung to a faint hope. After all, yizhuang could mean many things: an ancestral hall, a study hall, communal farmland… not always a morgue.
As long as it wasn’t the last one, they would be fine.
Near dusk, the boat docked briefly, then quickly left. Earlier, someone had tried talking to the ferryman, asking when another boat would return, only to find that everyone aboard had their tongues cut out. When they tried writing, their hands trembled uncontrollably.
No useful information could be obtained. The group could only pray it wasn’t a morgue. But fate had other plans. Following the dungeon map after disembarking, they arrived at a desolate place.
“The road’s gone.”
The horrifying truth was quickly discovered: the path they had come from had transformed into dense forest. Every tree was covered in brilliantly colored mushrooms, the ground as well.
It was too late to explore further, and of course, a game without twists wouldn’t be a game. After their initial shock, they hurried into the yizhuang. At its center stood a striking coffin.
The first question was whether or not to open it.
This instance had fifteen players in total—a large one. When opinions differed, two or three turned to Ji Heng for guidance. As the strongest fighter present, his decision carried extra weight.
“Open it.” Ji Heng hardly hesitated. He took a dagger and pried off a few nails.
Zhao Sanliang didn’t care about others’ opinions and immediately followed orders. But the moment his hand touched the coffin lid, it felt sticky and greasy.
Looking down, he saw strange green fluid clinging to his fingers.
Zhao Sanliang looked up at Ji Heng, who glanced around. “Two more, give me a hand.”
The group hesitated, but a young boy stepped forward.
Ji Heng glanced at the badge on his chest, then looked away. “The lid isn’t nailed down. If the three of us pry together, we can open it.”
Su Er nodded.
Then a voice interjected: “We don’t even know what’s inside. Isn’t this too risky?”
Ji Heng couldn’t be bothered to respond, but Zhao Sanliang rolled his eyes. “And how would we know without opening it?”
The man was stumped and laughed awkwardly.
“In a large instance, even if it’s an opening kill, if you’re strong enough you can survive. And if we open it while numbers are still high, the group’s survival chances increase.”
Su Er’s sudden words made several weaker players’ faces darken. They wanted to curse him, but seeing his physical power wasn’t high either, they had no comeback.
After all, those closest to danger and doing the actual work weren’t complaining—they had no right to.
Zhao Sanliang fetched several sturdy branches, handing one to Su Er.
“Not afraid?”
Just before opening, Ji Heng asked an extra question.
Su Er shook his head. “Coffins in a yizhuang… for centuries, they’ve only produced one kind of occupant—zombies.”
As his words fell, they pressed down on the opposite ends of the branches. The process was smoother than expected. The lid opened easily, as if the coffin had been waiting for it.
Inside lay a corpse with ashen-blue skin, long fingernails tipped black.
Of course, Su Er had his reasons for daring to open it. Aside from having a peachwood sword among his items—a weapon designed for such creatures—he also had experience. He had encountered zombies in instances before.
Those who opened the coffin didn’t show much surprise. Instead, it was the onlookers who nearly backed out to the doorway—only after confirming the zombie showed no signs of violently rising did they step back inside.
“The method of awakening…” Su Er noticed a line of blood-red writing on the coffin’s side and read it aloud: “Five drops of human blood, nine strands of hair. After revival, the zombie will remain awake for three hours each day.”
“What the hell.” A bald player walked over, rubbing his head. “Is this discrimination against me?”
His companion’s mouth twitched. “What does that have to do with you?”
After all, who in their right mind would actively awaken a zombie?
Su Er noticed that when Ji Heng heard this, the corners of his lips curved slightly—but the smile carried a faint trace of mockery.
The first night passed with everyone on high alert, but nothing happened.
On the second day, the host finally appeared. It was a crow, perched on a scarecrow, speaking human words: “Survive. Live for seven days.”
Opening the coffin to find a zombie, most assumed the task must be tied to it. None expected the clearance requirement to make no mention of zombies. While they still cautiously watched the coffin, a more pressing problem surfaced: food.
The path they had come from had vanished mysteriously, and there wasn’t another household in sight. With no choice, the fifteen players split into three teams to search the forest. Yet apart from poisonous mushrooms everywhere, not even a weed could be found. Water might have allowed them to endure for a few days, but even after searching far, they discovered no lake or stream.
“There’s no way there’s no water at all. How would these plants grow otherwise?”
But the instance defied logic. The speaker’s voice grew weaker and weaker, even he could not convince himself.
Everyone returned empty-handed. A full day’s search left them exhausted. With no water, nobody even wanted to speak.
On the third day, someone finally broke. He plucked a mushroom, took a small bite—and soon collapsed, poisoned to death.
The crow lowered its head, preening its feathers. Knowing they were near their limits, it coolly twisted a famous saying: “The world does not lack food, only eyes that can discover it.”
Those sitting on the ground to conserve strength exchanged uneasy glances, avoiding each other’s eyes.
Using a bathroom excuse, Ji Heng and Zhao Sanliang slipped away. Unlike the rest, they had a survival trump card: an item that instantly restored 20 points of physical power. Boosting physical power indirectly restored some physical function.
After ensuring no one was around, Zhao Sanliang used the item. His condition improved greatly.
Holding a button in his mouth to generate more saliva, he slurred, “Will it really rain?”
Ji Heng: “There are two ways to clear this. One is to endure until a certain limit—then a way out will appear.”
“And the other?” Zhao Sanliang asked eagerly.
Ji Heng sneered. “Eating the flesh and blood of others. Players can’t kill each other, but they can make use of… a substitute.”
Zhao Sanliang’s pupils contracted. “The zombie?”
The fog suddenly cleared. He finally understood why there was a coffin here—and why the awakening method had been written out.
Swallowing hard, Zhao Sanliang asked uneasily, “Should we warn the others in advance?”
Ji Heng shook his head. “Too many people, too many disagreements.”
Besides, he had only used an item for divination. He couldn’t be sure which day it would rain. No one would entrust their life to someone else’s guess.
Zhao Sanliang seemed to think of something grim. “True. Human weakness… when desperation sets in, we’ll be the first ones everyone turns on.”
People driven to the brink are most likely to raise their knives against their own.
“There’s another matter,” Ji Heng said. “That kid…”
“Kid?” Zhao Sanliang thought back. He hadn’t noticed any children among the players.
In that sense, the game was at least conscientious—it never involved minors.
But soon Zhao Sanliang thought of Su Er. Among them, the youth was clearly the youngest.
Ji Heng’s expression turned serious. “He’s been watching the coffin… silently.”
Zhao Sanliang’s first reaction was that the boy wanted to awaken the zombie, but then he felt something was off. Truthfully, his impression of Su Er had been good—after all, he had willingly stepped up to help open the coffin.
As they were speaking, Ji Heng suddenly turned.
Unnoticed, Su Er had already walked out of the yizhuang. His lips were cracked and bleeding; he licked them before walking straight up to Ji Heng.
“Can I borrow your dagger?”
Zhao Sanliang thought he was insane. What shocked him more was that Ji Heng actually handed the dagger over.
Su Er tucked it into his sleeve and made no move before nightfall.
Hunger and thirst were enough to drive anyone mad. A young man, unable to endure, quietly prepared strands of hair, cut his finger, and waited for a chance to awaken the zombie when no one was watching.
According to the coffin’s instructions, even if awakened, the zombie could only stay conscious three hours each day. He believed he could survive those hours, then use the others’ corpses to last until the final day.
But just as he was planning, someone acted first.
Su Er dashed to the coffin with incredible speed, staring at the zombie inside.
“What are you doing?” several voices demanded at once. Yet none moved to stop him—deep down, they even wanted him to go through with it.
Unexpectedly, Su Er sliced open the zombie’s arm, scooped a bit of its blood, and licked it from his lips. “Doesn’t taste good,” he said calmly, “but acceptable.”
The young man frowned. “Zombie blood is poisonous.”
Su Er replied calmly, “Everyone has healing items. Eat while using them—you’ll survive.”
With that, his hand rose and the blade fell. The dagger, sharp as if slicing through mud, instantly severed one of the zombie’s arms. Raising it up, Su Er asked, “Who wants this?”
“......”a
The silence was suffocating.
Su Er’s smile was eerie. “Zombie meat is still better than human meat.”
That line seemed to work. The young man was the first to speak, gritting his teeth. “Give it to me.”
Su Er smiled, rallying the others: “Gather the firewood, light the flames—tonight we feast on charcoal-grilled zombie!”
But just as he was drawing the dagger over the zombie’s body, a sudden cry rang out—“Careful!”
The zombie, which had been dormant until now, suddenly awoke and lunged for Su Er’s neck.
Ji Heng moved quickly, flashing to his side.
“No need.” Su Er rejected the aid, not even attempting to dodge. He stared straight at the enraged zombie and stated matter-of-factly, “You broke the rules.”
By the game’s rules, without the awakening ritual, it should have remained asleep.
Even hosts—seen as untouchable in the eyes of players—didn’t dare openly defy the rules, let alone a mere zombie. Just as its sharp teeth were about to pierce tender flesh, a mysterious force slammed it into the ground. Black blood poured endlessly from the severed stump.
The zombie clutched its wound in grievance, looking toward the crow.
The crow, preening its feathers, plucked one out too forcefully and snapped it. Coldly, it replied, “The game punished you. Nothing to do with me.”
With no help to turn to and humans eyeing it like prey, the zombie shivered—and, surprisingly, spoke: “Hold on a little longer and there will be rain…”
Before it could finish, the rules punished it again for revealing secrets.
No one truly wanted to eat zombie flesh. Now that there was hope, they agreed to wait it out.
But the next day dragged on like a year, still without rain. Players began to look at the zombie as though it were nothing more than food.
Still injured, the zombie had no choice but to offer motivational speeches through its weakness: “Don’t give up so easily! In desperate times, one must stay optimistic… Believe in yourselves! You can do it!”
The cost of awakening against the rules was high. Most of its abilities were sealed by the game, leaving it powerless against the players.
In that moment, the zombie felt more despair than the humans did.
The bald man, delirious from hunger, snapped: “Just one leg. Let me gnaw on one of your legs!”
The zombie ripped open its shirt in desperation. “I’ve got green hair—it really doesn’t taste good…”
That afternoon, a torrential downpour finally came. The poisonous mushrooms in the forest changed color, and wild rabbits appeared darting among the trees.
The players ate well at last. That meal carried them through the final days, and they successfully cleared the instance, transported back to the transfer station.
Su Er returned the dagger. “Thanks.”
Ji Heng suddenly asked, “Want to join our team?”
Su Er didn’t even look back. “I prefer to be alone.”
Ji Heng: “New members receive three advanced items.”
Su Er froze mid-step, turned back, and held out his hand for a shake. “Pleasure working together. I’ll be in your care from now on.”
Zhao Sanliang gaped in disbelief. “Since when did the organization have this benefit?”
Ji Heng replied coolly, “As of just now.”
“......”a
After signing the agreement, Ji Heng took Su Er to meet the other team members. To his surprise, Su Er spotted a familiar face.
Yao Zhi looked equally startled, pushing up his glasses… No wonder his student always seemed so drained in class.
Noticing their reactions, Ji Heng raised a brow. “You two know each other?”
Su Er sighed helplessly. “My math teacher.”
Ji Heng: “That’s good. Next time we run instances, you can study and play at the same time.”
“......”a
The video ended there. The USB drive instantly crumbled into ashes.
Su Er froze for a moment. “So that’s how we first met.” After a pause, he let out a cold laugh. “History really does repeat itself.”
Turns out, even back then, Ji Heng had already planned on making him do extra lessons in-game.
“It’s all in the past,” Ji Heng said evenly, shutting off the computer.
Resting his chin on one hand, Su Er glanced at him sidelong and suddenly suggested, “I want braised prawns in oil for dinner.”
Ji Heng nodded, tied on an apron, and went to the kitchen.
Su Er browsed online for a while before going to help. While chopping onions, he said, “I forgive you. After all, tutoring was for my own good… But in return, shouldn’t you forgive me for having to retake advanced math?”
“……” Ji Heng: “How many marks did you score?”
“Fifty-eight point five.” Su Er paused. “I suspect that was already my teacher’s mercy at work.”
Crossing the fifty-point line, most university teachers gave every possible mark to nudge students toward passing.
Ji Heng: “What are your chances in the retake?”
Su Er went silent for a moment, then said, “Depends on the difficulty.”
Ji Heng: “Be honest.”
Su Er: “Eight percent.”
Ji Heng abruptly stepped outside to grab his phone.
A bad feeling rose in Su Er. “What are you doing?”
Ji Heng turned back, voice calm and steady. “Finding you a tutor.”
Just then, a flock of wild geese flew across the sky. Sniffling, Su Er felt that his beautiful holiday was slipping away from him. He silently prayed the game would come recruit him again as a host… An all-expenses-paid trip was far better than remedial classes.
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