Author: 颜凉雨 / Yan Liang Yu

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

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Chapter 28: Accident

This was the terminal, and nearly every counter had passengers checking in. Identifying those caught up in the same situation among the throngs of people was impossible unless they were as conspicuously foolish and loud as they had been the day before.

At Counter 9, a few people were getting their boarding passes with normal demeanor and attire, indistinguishable from the other passengers.

“Are you sure they aren’t NPCs?” Xu Wang wasn’t doubting Wu Sheng but noted that identifying people required emotional intelligence, not just IQ, which wasn’t Classmate Wu’s forte.

“Of course,” Wu Sheng replied confidently. “If you look carefully, there are obvious differences between them and others.”

Xu Wang frowned, squinting harder, joined by Kuang Jinxin and Qian Ai, all peering intently.

After a long time, so long that the others had already finished getting their boarding passes, they turned to prepare for the security check.

Qian Ai couldn’t help but speak up. “There’s no difference…”

Kuang Jinxin added, “Can’t tell them apart.”

Xu Wang looked towards Wu Sheng, hoping he would listen to the voice of the crowd.

As a result, Classmate Wu responded with an expression of “Why do I always have to spell it out so clearly?”

“Eyes,” he said. “Look at their eyes. Only those four have dark circles.”

Xu Wang was speechless.

Kuang Jinxin: “Wu Ge…”

Qian Ai: “It’s Sheng Ge!”

Wu Sheng: “It’s nothing big. I was just a bit more careful.”

Xu Wang: “If you two keep idolizing him blindly, he might just fly to the moon first!”

Despite his words, Xu Wang had to admit that Wu Sheng’s observation was very accurate.

They looked at the glass table and saw their own reflections, resembling panda cubs themselves. Even after twelve hours of sleep, the faint signs of weariness under their eyes persisted. Humans are naturally active during the day and rest at night. No amount of sleep during the day could fully make up for the night’s loss.

With “dark circles” as a distinguishing feature, looking at the vast crowd felt like applying a “filter”, where all irrelevant people blurred into the background, leaving only those with dark circles standing out more clearly.

In the next ten minutes, they discovered two more teams, as discreet as the previous one. Without careful distinction, it was hard to recognize them from the other travelers.

“We look the most foolish by comparison.” Qian Ai observed after watching. “None of them are rushing around recklessly. They’re all sneaking.”

“Must be veteran teams,” Xu Wang guessed. The teams just coming up from stage 1/23 wouldn’t be so cautious. It seemed that these teams must have the experience of passing this level, probably had failed at some point, returned, and now had just completed the first stage again.

Since they had submitted their papers, there wouldn’t really be any intersection with these teams just about to board planes. At most, they would watch from afar, silently noting details in case they encountered them in later stages.

But then—

Xu Wang suddenly wondered, ‘How many people had been watching them last night?’

Perhaps not just last night.

Kuang Jinxin had just mentioned feeling like they were being watched. Yes, just as they could watch others, those who had finished but hadn’t yet moved to the next stage could also watch them.

Spying eyes are always sneaky. The difference lies in whether they harbor malice or not.

“Clearly, we are all victims sucked into this,” Kuang Jinxin murmured to himself, puzzled. “Why don’t I feel any kinship when I look at them, but instead feel fear…”

“It’s not just the fault of those four bastards from yesterday,” Qian Ai angrily recalled. “It makes me distrust every team I look at now.”

“It’s not entirely their fault,” Wu Sheng pointed out sharply. “It’s the existence of a competitive relationship that leads to this inevitable end.”

Xu Wang agreed. “If each subsequent stage only allows one team to pass, and failing teams have to go back, then any two teams might encounter and compete, fundamentally cutting off any path to friendship.”

“But there could be fair competition.” Kuang Jinxin still felt uneasy.

“If the first stage wasn’t hidden and each team could see the others, that possibility would exist. Mutual visibility would facilitate early negotiations,” Xu Wang explained patiently, patting his head. “But the situation now is such that the first stage deliberately creates the impression that teams are hidden from each other. When teams with this mindset enter the second stage, if there are veteran teams present, they will attack such new teams because the information is already asymmetrical and the veterans have an absolute advantage. Naturally, they won’t come out and advocate for fair competition.”

“The teams that are crushed will learn from their mistakes and then crush new teams.” Qian Ai sighed. “It’s a vicious cycle of hatred.”

Xu Wang quietly looked at the bustling travelers beyond the fence, saying, “The Owl intentionally designed the stages this way.”

Qian Ai shivered at the thought. “Can we not use personification? It makes this cursed place seem sentient.”

“It doesn’t need to be sentient, just logical.” Wu Sheng tapped the table gently and continued, “If malice is the operating logic of this world, then all the stages, settings, environments, and conditions for passing are based on this logic, and the behavior patterns of those involved will inevitably lead to this logical conclusion.”

Qian Ai blinked at Xu Wang.

Xu Wang patted his shoulder. “In other words, this world is filled with malice.”

Qian Ai glanced apologetically at Wu Sheng and then sincerely said to Xu Wang, “I like your explanation.”

The four had been sitting in the cafe for less than an hour but were already restless. They should have taken advantage of this rare “post-submission era” to catch up on sleep, but they were too energized from sleeping too much during the day, feeling like fully charged power banks.

With no other choice, they decided to wander around the airport and ended up discovering both good and bad news.

The good news was that the products in the shops were real, unlike the coffee that was ordered but never served. Whether it was convenience stores, bakeries, cosmetics, or various brand shops, as long as the transaction was completed right there with cash, the items were genuinely authentic.

Then came the bad news: these items also required payment, and every shop was clear in its demand for cash only. In essence, one could swipe on their phone, but they had no choice here—there was no mobile signal or wifi at all.

Scouring their pockets, only Qian Ai had brought his wallet. He took out a hundred yuan, spent ten on a keychain, and forty on a big bag of biscuits. The cashier gave him fifty in change, all in the newest edition of RMB, indistinguishable from what circulated in the real world.

The reason for buying these wasn’t out of fondness or whim, but Wu Sheng’s suggestion: if they could pay with real money in the “Owl” and receive items in return, could these items then be used in reality? Even if they could bring them back, items like souvenirs, bags, clothes, snacks, or cakes, and even brands identical to reality, wouldn’t be of much use. For instance, buying an LV here and then claiming it was from the “Owl” at airport prices would make no sense to anyone.

Still, Wu Sheng insisted on testing this theory.

“Understanding all the operational rules of this world is the foundation of conquering it,” he reasoned, compelling Xu Wang, Qian Ai, and Kuang Jinxin to agree and follow his lead.

The four opened the biscuits as soon as they left the store, dividing them among themselves. For about two or three minutes, they did nothing but stand at the store entrance, munching on the biscuits earnestly and attentively, as if they were back in preschool, and snacks were their entire world.

When only one biscuit was left, they finally stopped, and Qian Ai put the individually wrapped biscuit in his pocket along with the keychain and the change, forming a happy and fortunate “Owl family”.

Whether these items could be brought back to reality remained unclear, but at least in the “Owl”, the biscuits genuinely provided them with calories and a sense of fullness.

“If the things here can really be eaten,” Kuang Jinxin suddenly wondered, “does that mean the planes can also be taken? Maybe we can go directly to Shandong from here!”

“You’re being silly.” Qian Ai smacked him on the head. “Even if we could go, it would cost just as much as a regular ticket, and all our stuff is still at the hotel. Are you planning to leave everything behind?”

“That makes sense.” Kuang Jinxin scratched his head and vowed to think before he speaks next time.

But Wu Sheng suddenly said, “It’s not silly.”

Kuang Jinxin and Qian Ai looked at him, puzzled.

Wu Sheng added just a few more words, “Not silly at all.”

Their six eyes met for a few seconds. Four of them then turned to Xu Wang.

Xu Wang, imitating Wu Sheng’s tone and slight uptick in inflection, which sounded almost teasing, said, “Understanding all the operational rules of this world is the foundation of conquering it. We may not fly, but we need to explore the situation.”

Kuang Jinxin and Qian Ai understood.

Moreover, although Wu Sheng was right there, not moving his lips, they still had the illusion that Wu Sheng was using ventriloquism to speak for Xu Wang—such was the depth of Xu Wang’s understanding and the vividness of his imitation of Wu Sheng, almost to the soul level.

As the four were about to head over to the airline counter to inquire, someone suddenly ran out of the restaurant opposite, bumping into a traveler about to enter and sprinting eastward in a frenzy.

After running for about a dozen meters, a waiter ran out of the restaurant, chasing and shouting, “Thief!”

The four were stunned, facing a dilemma between acting heroically or standing by.

Their hesitation lasted only a brief moment, but in that instant, a chilling voice echoed throughout the terminal—

[Owl: Dear, getting something for nothing* isn’t advisable.]

*(不劳而获) Idiom referring to possessing the fruits of others’ labors without working yourself. From the saying of Confucius.

They recognized that voice; it was the usual teasing prompt that played in their ears. But now, the voice had lost its lively and mischievous tone. It was now cold as a knife, with a hint of eerie mockery that sent shivers down their spines and pained their ears.

The running man suddenly fell to the ground with a scream, convulsing violently as if in extreme pain, rolling around and screaming.

The four watched with horror, but the passing travelers seemed not to notice, continuing their hurried or leisurely pace as if there wasn’t a thief in agonizing pain right there.

The waiter finally reached him, and as the only person reacting to the thief, bent down to reach out. What happened next shocked them.

The moment the waiter’s fingertips touched the thief’s shoulder, the thief suddenly disappeared, leaving only a stack of neatly arranged hundred-yuan bills.

The waiter’s hand didn’t even pause, picking up the bills as if that was what he intended to do all along.

The four watched the waiter walk back into the restaurant calmly with the bills, suddenly feeling confused. Perhaps at the moment of picking up the money, he, like the other travelers, didn’t even see the thief. He was just after the money because… he knew the thief would disappear.

“Was that thief… a real person?” Kuang Jinxin asked hesitantly, already somewhat confused.

“Should be,” Wu Sheng said. “Otherwise, the Owl wouldn’t have spoken.”

“But the Owl’s voice has never been public before.” Qian Ai pointed out a problem, noting that since entering this world, all guidance from that voice had been heard individually by each person.

“It’s probably a warning to others* who might have the same idea,” Xu Wang suggested. “A direct warning for anyone who might think of committing such acts.”

*Kill the chicken to scare the monkey (杀鸡儆猴) Idiom referring to making a public demonstration of punishing wrongdoers to deter others who might copy them.

“Well, it worked,” Qian Ai admitted, now devoid of any criminal thoughts but still somewhat resentful. “Who made it in Shaanxi today and Shandong tomorrow? Does it think money grows on trees?”

“Will he die?” Kuang Jinxin suddenly asked.

“No.” Xu Wang was sure. “The Owl said it’s not advisable. If the consequence of effortless gain were death, then to maximize the warning, it could have simply stated that one would die, which would be a stronger deterrent. There’s no need to be so indirect.”

Kuang Jinxin sighed in relief but was still shaken.

Even if the man wasn’t going to die, the pain he experienced was evident.

Although the incident shook all four of them, standing there wouldn’t help; they still had their path to tread.

After a short pause, they went to the airline counter.

They wanted to inquire about flights to Shandong, but every airline counter gave the same trained response—Sorry, we don’t sell tickets here.

Whether there were flights was secondary; there was simply no place selling tickets in the entire terminal. They thought of trying the check-in counters, maybe swiping their arms or ID cards—Qian Ai had brought his, which was effectively all he had—but as they approached the counter, ground staff stopped them before they could even queue up, with no explanation and just a firm denial.

The security checkpoints treated them the same; there was no way to sneak in.

It seemed that overnight, all functional pathways had closed to them, turning the airport into a pure leisure zone. Shopping was possible, but boarding a plane was out of the question.

Exhausted and disheartened by 4 a.m., the four returned to the coffee shop. With nothing else to do, Xu Wang looked at his friends and, after much consideration, finally brought up something he’d been pondering. “As the captain, I think it’s necessary to set up a communal wallet…”

The so-called communal wallet meant everyone contributing an equal amount of money for shared expenses like food, accommodation, and travel, avoiding the hassle of alternating who pays or splitting every bill. For instance, Wu Sheng had booked the tickets to Shaanxi for him and Kuang Jinxin. He wanted to give Wu Sheng money but was afraid that mentioning it would seem like not treating him as a friend, so he could only mentally plan to return the favor next time, which was quite bothersome.

It wasn’t about being petty. In fact, if the roles were reversed, Xu Wang wouldn’t mind if Wu Sheng didn’t repay him, but as their journey seemed set to be a long one, they couldn’t continue in such an ambiguous manner.

People often say discussing money hurts relationships, but Xu Wang learned from his years in society that discussing money upfront doesn’t harm relationships. In fact, it might even help maintain them. It’s the settling of accounts later that’s truly deadly.

Despite this, money was still a sensitive issue, and Xu Wang was prepared for his teammates’ misunderstanding or opposition.

And indeed, they did oppose.

Qian Ai was the first to raise his hand.

Xu Wang, ever democratic, said, “Go ahead.”

“Why are you the captain?”

“……”

Although the focus of his teammate’s questions wasn’t what he had expected, Xu Wang quickly composed himself and tilted his head innocently. “I thought we had reached a consensus on this.”

Qian Ai wasn’t discontented, just utterly confused, and his confusion deepened after getting a response. He instinctively looked at Kuang Jinxin, who also shook his head in bewilderment.

Qian Ai turned back to Xu Wang. “Um, there are four of us, and two don’t remember agreeing. Are you sure we reached a consensus?”

“Alright, alright.” Xu Wang, unsuccessful in his subtle maneuvering, conceded good-naturedly. “Then let’s choose now. After all, we’re a team and need a leader to avoid chaos and inefficiency…” Before he even finished speaking, he raised his hand. “I’m running.”

His seamless transition from advocating to nominating himself left Qian Ai utterly impressed. By comparison, he felt completely outplayed in rhetoric and strategy. He gave up on competing, but when it came to choosing a team leader, he had another candidate in mind…

Wu Sheng caught Qian Ai’s supportive gaze and promptly responded, “I vote for Xu Wang.”

Xu Wang, bracing for a “fierce competition”, was unexpectedly and pleasantly surprised by Wu Sheng’s gift.

Qian Ai was surprised too, but not pleased. Instead, he doubted his own hearing. “Class monitor, you weren’t like this before. Weren’t you always the one to step up for honors and leadership roles?”

“I was young and naive back then.” Wu Sheng waved off, sighing deeply with a gaze lifted 45 degrees, like a sage reflecting on the past. “Now I’ve matured, become more composed, and objective…”

“Sorry to interrupt.” Qian Ai coughed lightly. “Can we get to the point?”

Reluctantly, Wu Sheng brought his gaze back down, shrugged, and said, “I admit I’m smarter than Xu Wang, but throughout history, the intellectual often stays behind the scenes, acting as a strategist rather than a leader…”

“In Water Margin, Wu Yong was the smartest, but Song Jiang led the team…”

“In Romance of the Three Kingdoms, Zhuge Liang was the smartest, and Zhou Yu wasn’t far behind, but one followed Liu Bei and the other served Sun Ce…”

“So,” Wu Sheng looked around at his teammates, his eyes finally resting on Xu Wang. “Leadership isn’t about being the smartest. It’s about knowing people, utilizing them, and playing with human hearts. In that, I’m far too lacking.”

Seeing the rare genuine humility on Wu Sheng’s face, Xu Wang wanted to smack him. “Couldn’t you just simply say you support me as the leader…”

The journey might have been circuitous, but the outcome was bright.

Xu Wang was elected and immediately continued the previous topic. “Here’s what I think: this is going to be a long-term battle, and we’ll surely be fighting side by side for a while. Since our living expenses are shared, let’s just pool our money into a ‘class fund’. This way, it’s more convenient, and keeping detailed accounts will also help our team’s sustainable development.”

Qian Ai was the first to raise his hand again, but this time in support. “Agreed.”

“Money” might be a difficult topic, but addressing it openly and clearly, like Xu Wang did, was refreshing.

“Agreed!” Kuang Jinxin was the second to raise his hand.

Wu Sheng nodded. “No objections.”

“Let’s each put in five thousand first. Air tickets are expensive.” Xu Wang thought for a moment. “Xiao Kuang is still a student. If you can contribute less, do so; if not, don’t worry, I’ll cover your part…” To alleviate any potential pressure on Kuang Jinxin, Xu Wang added with a smile, “But it’s a loan, remember. You’ll have to pay it back.”

“No need,” Kuang Jinxin quickly said. “I have five thousand!”

Xu Wang looked at him skeptically. “Don’t bankrupt yourself.”

“Xu Ge—” Kuang Jinxin was unhappy about being treated like a child by Xu Wang, but his argument wasn’t convincing. “If it’s not enough, I can always ask my family for more!”

Xu Wang was both amused and annoyed. “Then what will you tell your family when they ask what you need the money for?”

“For traveling,” Kuang Jinxin replied smoothly. “A few days ago, when my family asked why I ended my internship early, I said I wanted to see the world, so I’m out and about.”

“And they agreed?”

“Yeah, my grandma was especially happy, telling me repeatedly to make the most of my youth and see the world, and if I needed more money, just to tell her.”

“……”

Xu Wang was speechless, unable to decide if the Kuang family was overly indulgent or just thought he was naïve and inexperienced, needing to face the world and its challenges.

“Alright then.” Since the kid had money, he wouldn’t insist. They were all partners, regardless of age, and should respect each other equally. Sometimes, over-special treatment could be detrimental to unity. However, as the captain, he still gave the youngster a hearty pat on the shoulder. “Just don’t force yourself. If things get tough, talk to your brothers. The four of us are comrades in a minefield, already fated to tough it out. No harm in a little more hardship.”

Kuang Jinxin laughed, though his eyes were a bit teary. He nodded fiercely to dissipate the heat. “Yes!”

At five o’clock in the morning, they returned to reality.

The last piece of biscuit and keychain in Qian Ai’s pocket had disappeared, but the change he found was still there.

They weren’t immediately famished. The satiety from the biscuit and Xu Wang’s injury in the icy plain carried over to reality.

From this, Advisor Wu summarized two more points to the “Owl’s Operational Logic”:

(1) Fake items can be consumed in a fake way, real money for real items, usable within the Owl, dissipating outside; food energy can be sustained, and cash can be liquidated.

(2) Equivalent exchange √; getting something for nothing—×.

They didn’t catch up on sleep that day but headed straight to the airport.

Their precise new coordinates were in Dongying, Shandong. There was no direct flight from Yulin to Dongying, so they had to transfer at Xianyang Airport.

This was fine. The 13:05 flight left them an hour and a half to transfer at Xianyang, arriving at Dongying Shengli Airport by 17:30—a total of four and a half hours of travel, so it wasn’t too troublesome. And once in Dongying, they had over six hours to settle in, which was quite relaxing.

Boarding the plane, the four of them thought optimistically.

Then, when the plane arrived smoothly at Xianyang Airport, the sky suddenly changed, and a torrential downpour began, accompanied by strong winds and thunderstorms.

The four sat in the terminal, watching the rain pour down like a waterfall outside the glass, with a growing sense of dread layering in their minds.

“Lucky we’re off the plane.” Qian Ai echoed everyone’s thoughts. “I would have suffocated on board.”

The horror of the red-eye flight was something they definitely didn’t want to revisit in reality.

The storm not only brought back painful memories for the group but also severely disrupted the airport’s normal order, grounding all flights. When would they resume? That depended on the rain.

So they waited.

The group waited from around 2 p.m. to 3 p.m., 3 p.m. to 5 p.m., 5 p.m. to late at night, with no signs of the rain letting up. The tarmac outside was dark and silent, as if the rain had turned into ink.

“Damn.” Qian Ai glanced at the time on his phone. “We won’t have to stay here overnight, right?”

“If the vortex opens up later, won’t it scare everyone?” Kuang Jinxin referred to the anxious passengers waiting around them.

Xu Wang imagined the scene. “They might be scared at first, but they’ll forget after.”

“It’s about the distance,” Wu Sheng noted. “It’s nearly a thousand kilometers straight from here to Dongying. Unless we can get on a plane inside or find some other faster mode of transport, there’s no way we can reach the coordinate point before 5 a.m., let alone pass the level.”

Qian Ai knew he was being pragmatic, but he couldn’t help but want to bring his teammates back to the basics. “Can you guys first think about what if we go in and the flight has left, and if we can’t go far inside, we might have to rebook the tickets…”

“No need.” Wu Sheng was nonchalant. “You can change or cancel flights before they take off.”

Qian Ai looked up in despair.

Xu Wang understood his teammate’s struggle. He handed Wu Sheng a cup of warm water he had just fetched, helping to explain, “That’s someone else’s ticket, not ours.”

Wu Sheng, holding the cup, looked puzzled.

As Xu Wang had taken on the financial responsibility of the communal wallet and had handled the ticket booking, he had the most say—

“We bought non-refundable, discounted tickets, also called ‘Happy Flying’.”

Wu Sheng drank the warm water in one gulp, nodding in agreement. “Nice name.”

Despite Qian Ai’s prayers, midnight came as scheduled, but the storm didn’t stop, and amidst the noisy rain, a clear owl’s hoot was heard.

A purple halo appeared on the terminal’s dome, and except for the four of them searching in all directions, no other passenger noticed.

However, two minutes later, all the passengers saw in horror—they were lifted into the air like a whirlwind, disappearing into the vortex.

After a dizzying sense of weightlessness, the four landed—not on the ground, but on the deck of an old-fashioned sailing ship.

Apart from them, there was no one else on the ship.

Outside the ship, the vast ocean lay before them, the calm sea shimmering with a pale green light under the sunlight.

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