Author: 木尺素 / Mu Chisu

Translator: Kinky || https://kinkytranslations.com/

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Chapter 42

Zhou Qian and Chen Yangzhou arranged to have lunch together at noon and, incidentally, discussed various questions Zhou Qian wanted to ask.

At 11, Chen Yangzhou drove over, picked up Zhou Qian and Qi Liuxing, and left. Of course, he also returned the urn to Zhou Qian.

Spring Hill Mental Asylum implemented zone management. Both Zone 2 and Zone X had a prison-like nature, and the patients inside were under strict supervision. Especially in Zone X, entry and exit were strictly prohibited for anyone other than medical staff.

However, the management of Zone 1 was much more relaxed.

For someone with mild symptoms like Zhou Qian, with the doctor’s evaluation and the occasional leniency of the nurse, he could apply for the chance to leave.

This time the police came to take him away, making things even easier.

On the way to the restaurant, inside an SUV.

Zhou Qian and Qi Liuxing sat side by side in the back seat. Zhou Qian held an urn, occasionally glancing inside. The scene seemed eerily familiar.

The only difference was that this time, the driver wasn’t a rideshare driver, but the policeman Chen Yangzhou.

Before Zhou Qian could ask Chen Yangzhou in detail, he received a call.

He answered and heard the voice of Yun Xiangrong.

Guessing what news Yun Xiangrong might bring, Zhou Qian fell silent, frowning.

Yun Xiangrong said directly, “[Tick Tock Clock], I’ve returned it to Qi Liuxing. Also… Gao Shan passed away not long after last night. Car accident. He didn’t make it.”

Without responding, Yun Xiangrong continued, “I’m just letting you know. I know you’re not the type to genuinely console others. I didn’t expect you to say anything comforting.”

She then became more serious. “A man named ‘Priest’ came to see me, asking me to join the ‘Peach Blossom Legion’. Perhaps he’s the mastermind behind Gao Shan’s death.”

Zhou Qian’s tone also became serious. “Yun Xiangrong, I need to remind you. When we were in the instance, I didn’t have time to chat with you. Moreover, with the gambler watching, it wasn’t convenient. But now I have time, and I can tell you that I don’t agree with your choice. Do you know what you’re facing? Do you think they’d rashly trust you and really sever ties with me?”

Yun Xiangrong replied calmly, “But this is the only way I can get closer to them faster.”

Zhou Qian frowned. “Actually, Situ Qing isn’t inherently wicked. The reason she would kill…”

Glancing at Chen Yangzhou in front of him, Zhou Qian continued, “She killed that young boy in the game because she feared the group behind her. She’s afraid of terrible punishment. She’s terrified of revealing secrets about that group. A group that could force someone as inherently not bad as her to commit such acts—”

“Given this, [Priest] coming to you and even revealing the group’s name… What do you think his intentions are?”

“I know. He wants to use me. Maybe they think I’ve betrayed you and see me as someone malleable, someone they can use against you using my resentment for you.”

“But of course, there’s also the possibility that they guess I’m pretending, that I haven’t truly betrayed you. In this case, they can still use me. Use the fact that I can still contact you, use me against you. But regardless…”

Yun Xiangrong smirked. “I can use them back. I will get close to them. Whatever happens afterward, we’ll just adapt.”

“Before Shan Ge closed his eyes, he told me he wished you wouldn’t seek revenge,” Zhou Qian said. “I told him I couldn’t persuade you.”

Hearing this, Yun Xiangrong didn’t say anything. After a moment of silence, she hung up.

Zhou Qian slowly lowered the phone, watching it lock itself, but didn’t do anything else.

At that moment, sensing something, he looked forward and saw, through the rearview mirror, Chen Yangzhou’s questioning gaze.

Zhou Qian quickly adjusted his expression, then patted Qi Liuxing on the shoulder, gesturing for both of them to give Chen Yangzhou a goofy, rich-kid smile.

Then he said to the driver, “Officer Chen, don’t mind us. We were just talking about a game!”

“Well, your game sounds quite adolescent and seems pretty dramatic. What’s it called?”

Chen Yangzhou, nearing forty, seemed to have a grasp on younger generation lingo from the way he asked.

“Ugh, staying in the ward every day is so boring. Just playing around for fun.” Zhou Qian asked him, “What do you plan to treat us to?”

“We’re almost there. How about a roast duck restaurant?” Chen Yangzhou asked.

Zhou Qian’s face immediately showed distaste. “It better not be one of those fly-infested little diners. I won’t go.”

Chen Yangzhou shrugged. “I don’t earn much. Don’t expect me to live up to the lifestyle standards you’re used to.”

“We can treat you then!” Zhou Qian offered.

“I’m much older than you both. You could practically call me ‘uncle’,” Chen Yangzhou said, pressing on the accelerator. “Why would kids like you pay for the meal?”

“Uncle? Well, that might be a stretch.” Zhou Qian laughed. “You’re not even 40 yet.”

“Still, I’m sort of friends with your father. We are of the same generation.” Chen Yangzhou glanced at Zhou Qian through the rearview mirror. “What game were you guys talking about earlier?”

“Just some online games, mostly about cultivation and stuff. Why?” Zhou Qian inquired.

Chen Yangzhou shook his head, speaking with a hint of nostalgia. “It’s just that… I remember your dad being quite addicted to games. He would often hide with his phone for hours.”

“I’ve always wondered if his bankruptcy had anything to do with gaming. I hope he wasn’t involved in gambling games. Zhou Qian, learn from his mistakes. Don’t gamble.”

Upon hearing this, Zhou Qian was genuinely surprised. His expression grew stern, and his eyes became deep and thoughtful.

After a while, Zhou Qian interrupted Chen Yangzhou’s words of caution, “How did you get to know my dad?”

Chen Yangzhou signaled a turn and drove to another lane. “An employee at your dad’s company committed suicide. It didn’t seem like the guy had any reason to kill himself. I was suspicious and often visited your dad’s company to interview the employees. This is how I got close to your father.”

“Your dad is a good person, very cooperative, and he didn’t blame me for interrupting his work. Later on… he would occasionally invite me for meals and such. We’re not very close, but you could say we’re friends. So, treating you to a meal is really the least I can do. Hmm, let me think… Oh right, we were talking about games—”

“Didn’t your dad frequently invite me for meals? But I noticed that many times he would take his phone and lock himself in the bathroom, staying in there for several hours without coming out. When I asked him what was going on, he said he was playing a game… See, games can be harmful. One shouldn’t get addicted!”

In Zhou Qian’s view, the people his father associated with weren’t trustworthy. He had never taken an interest in his father’s social circle, let alone knowing his connection with Chen Yangzhou.

From Chen Yangzhou’s words, Zhou Qian started to have strong suspicions. Could it be possible that his father, Zhou Chongshan, was involved in this game?

Chen Yangzhou mentioned his dad hiding in the restroom with his phone. It seemed that if Zhou Chongshan was really connected to this game, he was more of a gambler than a player.

At least from what Chen Yangzhou had observed, Zhou Chongshan seemed to take on the role of a gambler.

If Zhou Chongshan indeed had deep ties to the game, then his association with a police officer like Chen Yangzhou makes sense.

Police investigate cases, and players who lose in the game die in real life. If Zhou Chongshan was close to Chen Yangzhou, he could glean a lot of information.

Zhou Qian didn’t doubt that the so-called “suicidal” employee from Zhou Chongshan’s company might have had ties to the game and possibly even to Zhou Chongshan himself. Zhou Chongshan’s motive for getting close to Chen Yangzhou now seemed apparent—he was afraid Chen Yangzhou would uncover the true secret behind the employee’s death.

Externally, Zhou Qian kept his composure, just holding the urn tighter and looking down at it. Every day, many people die. But which of these deaths were natural and which involved some supernatural force?

Now, Zhou Qian realized that his father’s death might not have been so simple.

A certain intuition, whose origin even he was unaware of, could it be true?

After all, if there was someone in this world who would help him unconditionally…

In Zhou Qian’s view, that person could only be Bai Zhou.

“What’s wrong?” Chen Yangzhou asked, noticing Zhou Qian’s silence. “Are you okay?”

Zhou Qian shook his head and continued, “So, what was the final verdict on that suicidal employee?”

“No choice. All evidence pointed to suicide. At the time of the incident, he was locked inside his own house with windows shut tight. Elevator surveillance even showed no one visited his floor when it happened.” Chen Yangzhou sighed. “I had to close the case as a suicide.”

“So… did he have a mental illness?” Zhou Qian asked.

Chen Yangzhou countered, “Why do you ask?”

Zhou Qian replied, “Based on what you just said, he must have committed suicide. Could he possibly have had depression or something similar?”

“He doesn’t have depression. As far as I know, he doesn’t have any other mental health issues either,” Chen Yangzhou said. “That’s why I said he shouldn’t have any possibility of committing suicide. But the fact is… all the evidence points to suicide. Haa, who knows what really happened.”

Upon hearing this, Zhou Qian exchanged a glance with Qi Liuxing, both of them falling into a brief silence. What Zhou Qian was pondering was: his father was likely a gambler, and the employee who “committed suicide” was probably a player who failed to clear a level in a game and consequently died in real life. From the information Zhou Qian had gathered, whether genuinely ill or not, players seem to have some association with mental hospitals.

So why did this particular employee have no mental issues?

To avoid arousing Chen Yangzhou’s suspicions, Zhou Qian didn’t probe further but used his phone to search for more information about Yu Xian.

Yu Xian was murdered in the presidential suite of a five-star hotel, and the killer was Zhu Qiang.

Yu Xian and Zhu Qiang, Zhou Qian had just met them both through the game interface not long ago. By game time, this incident took place three days ago, but in real-time, it happened yesterday. In such a short span…

Yu Xian was indeed killed by Zhu Qiang. It seemed he didn’t heed Zhou Qian’s warning to flee.

But what awaited Zhu Qiang?

Would he be simply arrested as the murderer… or did he have a way to escape?

Zhou Qian’s gaze temporarily left his phone, taking a brief glance ahead. Despite a murder occurring yesterday, Chen Yangzhou could still dine with him, indicating that the incident probably wasn’t within his jurisdiction.

Thus, Zhou Qian decided not to ask further.

If the game involved supernatural entities and if Zhou Chongshan and his employee died because of it, then the game’s arrival in this world was earlier than Zhou Qian had imagined.

After all these years, the game’s secrets had remained hidden. Thus, the system behind the game, or its designers, likely didn’t want humans to uncover its truths.

Given Chen Yangzhou’s sensitive position, he might be a target closely monitored by the game system.

He was a decent man, and Zhou Qian didn’t want to cause him unwarranted trouble. So, he decided not to bring up the subject again.

Aside from inquiring about Bai Zhou, Zhou Qian resolved not to ask Chen Yangzhou anything further. It wasn’t necessary to involve him.

……

On the way to the restaurant, Zhou Qian managed to glean some unexpected information from Chen Yangzhou. As for Bai Zhou, he’d have to wait until they were seated to properly inquire.

Zhou Qian realized the place Chen Yangzhou brought him to was quite shabby. The restaurant was tiny, with only five tables. Cleanliness and ambiance would score zero, and even the furniture appeared greasy.

But Qi Liuxing, who wasn’t on the same page as Zhou Qian, commented upon entering, “The aroma of the roast duck is wonderful! I’d love to taste how good it is.”

“Yes,” Chen Yangzhou agreed. “These ducks are free-range from the countryside and have absolutely no hormones. The chef here has excellent technique. There’s no other place like this in our city. Ah, my wife…”

“Ahem, she never lets me eat this. Today is finally a chance to feast on duck.”

Considering Chen Yangzhou’s statements, Zhou Qian, although uneasy, sat down. With a requesting demeanor, he looked earnestly at Chen Yangzhou. “So, Officer Chen—”

Before Zhou Qian could finish, Qi Liuxing interrupted. “Are you sure… you want to eat while holding an urn?”

Zhou Qian’s fierce gaze darted over. “My friend has been lying underground for years. Can’t I let him experience the… the unique aroma of this city’s roast duck?”

The restaurant owner, serving appetizers, paused upon hearing this, then pretending not to hear, quickly placed the dishes and scurried away.

However, Chen Yangzhou, being an experienced detective, had weathered many storms over the years. Given that he knew about Zhou Qian’s mental issues, his expression remained unchanged, and he was extremely calm, showing not a hint of surprise.

When Zhou Qian turned his head back to look at Chen Yangzhou, his face immediately softened. “So, what exactly is going on with my classmate, Bai Zhou?”

Chen Yangzhou was worried about triggering Zhou Qian’s emotions, so he said in a very gentle tone, “Based on some bone residues that were not completely burned, it seems they are human bones for sure, but other details can’t be discerned. After all, DNA is organic, and once it’s burnt, it’s impossible to conduct further tests.”

Zhou Qian frowned.

Chen Yangzhou then asked him, “Why do you think these aren’t Bai Zhou’s ashes?”

“He appeared in my dream, telling me he wasn’t dead.” Zhou Qian’s gaze was pure and innocent. At this moment, his expression clearly indicated one thing: he’s asking these questions because he suffers from a mental disorder.

So, Chen Yangzhou just sighed deeply.

Zhou Qian quickly asked, “Did you find out anything else for me? Like how he died?”

“Oh. I did ask around for you. He died of illness,” said Chen Yangzhou.

“Illness?” Zhou Qian’s brows furrowed. “What illness?”

“ALS*,” Chen Yangzhou replied. “You might have heard of it, also known as Lou Gehrig’s disease or motor neuron disease.”

*Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis is a rare neurodegenerative disease that results in the progressive loss of motor neurons that control voluntary muscles. Motor neuron loss continues until the abilities to eat, speak, move, or, lastly, breathe are lost. There is no known cure.

“I’ve heard of it. Stephen Hawking had it, right?” Zhou Qian was momentarily stunned.

Chen Yangzhou continued, “Yes. It’s said that the disease often strikes those older than 30. For your classmate to get it at 16 or 17 is quite rare.”

Zhou Qian, slightly taken aback, didn’t respond.

He immediately pulled out his phone to search for the symptoms of the disease.

From what Zhou Qian found, those with the disease initially feel easily fatigued, experience sudden weakness, or have uncoordinated movements. But in its later stages, the whole body’s muscles atrophy, swallowing becomes difficult… until they die in endless pain.

At that moment, the restaurant’s owner brought over the roast duck, loudly announcing something about giving them some duck liver as a treat.

Qi Liuxing seemed to notice something was amiss and gently called Zhou Qian’s name.

Chen Yangzhou began to elaborate on how to eat different parts of the duck…

Voices overlapped, and the clear sound of chopping from the kitchen echoed. But Zhou Qian paid no attention. Before his eyes, the memory of a high school ping pong match emerged.

During the finals, surrounded by cheering classmates, Zhou Qian gripped his paddle, looking intently at Bai Zhou across the table. This match meant a lot to him. He felt he had to best Bai Zhou in some way.

It was Bai Zhou’s turn to serve. His serving technique was always impeccable, making it extremely difficult to return. But that time, as Bai Zhou tossed the ball with his left hand, preparing to hit it with his right, his right hand suddenly dropped, missing the ball… a service error.

Then, Zhou Qian slammed the ball, and Bai Zhou had to return it with a backhand. Zhou Qian’s shot was a bit off, not landing in a tricky position. Bai Zhou should’ve been able to hit it, but Zhou Qian clearly saw Bai Zhou’s hand tremble, and the ball missed the table and fell to the ground.

Zhou Qian couldn’t hear the cheers or questions from the surrounding students. All he heard was the diminishing “thump, thump” of the ball hitting the ground. And what he missed at that time but recalled now was Bai Zhou’s momentary daze and lost expression while holding the paddle.

The scene changed, taking Zhou Qian to a pathway on the way home from school. Yellow leaves were falling, and the sound of the ping pong ball echoed.

Zhou Qian saw himself gripping Bai Zhou’s collar, asking fiercely, “Why did you let me win on purpose?”

In that moment, was Bai Zhou’s gaze as calm as Zhou Qian thought? In the dim light, in the corners not lit by streetlights… Did his eyes reveal something Zhou Qian missed?

“Zhou Qian, are you okay?!”

Following that loud shout, Zhou Qian felt two strong pats on his shoulders.

He looked up to see two worried faces—Qi Liuxing and Chen Yangzhou.

“I’m fine.” Zhou Qian’s voice was slightly dry. He asked Chen Yangzhou, “Bai Zhou fell ill. And then?”

“Oh… Bai Zhou…” Chen Yangzhou took a few more looks at Zhou Qian. After sitting down again, he picked up a duck leg and began to gnaw on it, continuing, “Bai Zhou was in the Municipal People’s Hospital at the time. My cousin is a doctor there. He said he remembered Bai Zhou. Because the kid was exceptionally handsome and reportedly excelled both in character and learning. My cousin still feels it’s such a pity; he remembers him vividly. He said Bai Zhou did die, although…”

Zhou Qian picked up on something. “Although what? Tell me the exact words of the doctor.”

Chen Yangzhou replied, “Although his condition worsened faster than expected, he indeed died in the end.”

……

That afternoon. Spring Hill Mental Asylum, Zone 1, Public Rest Area.

Qi Liuxing began his lookout duties again.

Because Zhou Qian was sitting in a tree with the ashes in one hand and binoculars in the other.

“Aren’t we supposed to go and bury him? Why are you still holding onto his ashes?” Qi Liuxing, sitting under the tree, couldn’t help but ask. “I paid for that tombstone too! We can’t waste it!”

Zhou Qian just looked at the opposite Zone X and said lightly, “I thought about it. There’s no need to bury. The graveyard management is so messy.”

Qi Liuxing: “So…?”

Zhou Qian: “Just keep it in our ward. You won’t mind, right?”

Qi Liuxing: “How do you know I won’t mind?”

Zhou Qian: “Your brother is staying with us, and I don’t mind.”

Qi Liuxing: “…………”

“So, what are you doing now? Where are we going next?”

“I’m waiting… for [137] to take me as a disciple.”

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