Midnight Owl Ch54

Author: 颜凉雨 / Yan Liang Yu

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


Chapter 54: Epidemic Prevention Room

On one side, the teammates were bonding in “unity and friendship,” while on the other side, the advisor looked serious.

He had been standing behind Xu Wang for almost two minutes, but Xu Wang hadn’t noticed him, still squatting there, entranced by a pennant on the floor.

It was just an ordinary pennant, lying on the ground, covered in dust, with red background and yellow letters, praising medical virtues—”Hanging a pot to help the world. Magical hands relieve pain and bring spring.”

Wu Sheng observed every word on the pennant carefully, not even missing the signature, but despite staring until the words almost distorted in his vision, he couldn’t decipher any secret.

However, Xu Wang seemed to be lost in thought, as if the pennant could unlock some sort of gateway.

Suddenly, he slapped his knee. “Right, that’s it!”

Wu Sheng was startled and quickly moved in front of him. He saw his captain’s face brighten with sudden understanding.

“Did you think of a plan?” asked Wu Sheng.

“Yeah.” Xu Wang nodded joyfully. “We’ll use [The Flood Overwhelms the Dragon King’s Temple]!”

“Make the zombie horde turn on each other?” Wu Sheng had thought that the interpretation of [The Flood Overwhelms the Dragon King’s Temple] was where one turned against their own.

“No, no.” Xu Wang shook his head like a bobblehead. “That’s an offense, not an illusory type.”

Wu Sheng paused, his train of thought finally aligning. “Turning on each other” belonged to mental control, and among the stationeries they had used so far, the control types were illusory, while [The Flood Overwhelms the Dragon King’s Temple] was an offense type.

Blinded by the literal meaning of the idiom, he had been led astray.

Realizing Wu Sheng had caught on, Xu Wang continued, “The zombies outside are afraid of water. This weapon will be most effective.”

Wu Sheng was skeptical. “How do you know they’re afraid of water?”

“Why so many questions?” Xu Wang had only grasped part of his fragmented memory and couldn’t explain clearly, “Do you trust me or not?”

Wu Sheng: “……”

Xu Wang: “Good, then let’s act!”

Wu Sheng: “I haven’t even said anything yet!”

Ignoring his opinion, the captain, already standing up, began organizing their “enthusiastic” teammates. “Lao Qian, Xiao Kuang, come stand on the windowsill!”

“What kind of plan is this…” Qian Ai, puzzled, clumsily climbed onto the windowsill and then pulled Kuang Jinxin up.

Wu Sheng was still squatting, inspecting the pennant from all angles, unable to find any secrets. Finally, in disbelief, he slapped it! A cloud of old dust hit him in the face.

“Achoo—Achoo—”

Kuang Jinxin, just standing on the windowsill, looked baffled at the dusty advisor. “Sheng Ge, what happened to you?”

Wu Sheng pretended not to hear and smoothly climbed onto the windowsill.

“It’s nothing.” Xu Wang reassured Classmate Kuang. “Your Sheng Ge thought the pennant was responsive, hoping to reveal a secret code with a slap.”

Wu Sheng: “……”

Finally, everyone was on the windowsill. Xu Wang, grasping the window handle, explained the tactic, “Once we use the stationery, the entire first floor will flood. The door will definitely be broken open, but don’t worry; as long as we hold on tight and stand firm, the water will recede in at most two minutes. By then, the zombies will have been washed away, clearing the first floor, and we can head upstairs.”

The three teammates: “……”

Xu Wang: “What’s wrong?”

Qian Ai: “Is this a tactic or a god-mode prediction?”

Xu Wang: “Do you trust me or not?”

Qian Ai: “……”

Xu Wang: “Great, then let’s act!”

Qian Ai: “Huh? What the hell? I didn’t even say anything!”

“You’ll get used to it.” The experienced Advisor Wu patted Lao Qian’s shoulder. “He’s now Xu ‘Cheat Mode’ Wang.”

[(Offense) The Flood Overwhelms the Dragon King’s Temple] activated. An enormous tidal wave instantly swept over the first floor of the Infectious Disease Building!

The roaring flood, carrying a torrential current, smashed through everything in its path. In less than half a second, it burst through the storage room door with a loud “bang”. The scattered cabinets were instantly submerged, and the surging wave hit the window where the four were standing!

“Shit, my chainsaw is still on the cabinet—”

“Switch to using [Swish Swish Hidden Blade]—” Before Xu Wang could finish, a huge wave hit him square in the face.

For about ten seconds, the four were completely submerged in water, clinging to the window to avoid being swept away!

Suddenly, something hit Qian Ai. He couldn’t see anything in the murky water and thought it was a zombie, wildly kicking until he nearly broke his foot.

Finally, the wave receded. The real water level was just over the windowsill, reaching their knees and continuing to drop as the flood flowed out of the building.

Qian Ai opened his eyes and, while gasping for air, finally saw what he had been fighting—a dragon’s head.

Carved in wood, brightly colored, and lifelike, it was floating out of the storage room with the flood. The water flowing past the door also carried fragments of a temple, like red wooden planks and golden pillars.

Qian Ai turned to Wu Sheng, speechless. “Your weapon… really did flood the Dragon King’s Temple.”

Wu Sheng felt equally complex. “Sometimes, the world is just that straightforward.”

It only took about two minutes for the flood to recede. They peeked around the corridor, seeing it empty with not a single zombie in sight.

Qian Ai now believed what Wu Sheng said; their captain must have bought a strategy guide with real money!

Without the horde of zombies, the group smoothly climbed to the second floor, only to find that the stairway to the third floor was singular, neither on the left nor the right, but in the middle, offset from the right corridor they were in.

The second floor’s long corridor, lined with many offices, wasn’t as quiet as the first. A female nurse was wandering back and forth, wearing a white uniform and nurse’s cap, tall and curvy, pushing a medical cart full of syringes.

The four companions hid at the corner of the stairway entrance, observing the situation.

The nurse zombie’s eyes were even paler than the handsome doctor’s, almost invisible with a red membrane, as if someone had erased her pupils, leaving no distinction between the iris and the rest of her eye. It was just a terrifying white.

Her wandering seemed preset, confined to the area between the stairways leading up from the first floor, pushing the cart back and forth. Each time she neared the stairway, she would immediately turn around, never checking to see if someone was hiding there, diligently following her own path.

The middle of this path was precisely the stairway to the third floor.

“On the first floor, there was a male god, and this one seems like another heartthrob.” Qian Ai now viewed every zombie in the Infectious Disease Building as a potential boss capable of summoning minions.

Kuang Jinxin: “Can we sneak past her while she’s turned around?”

Wu Sheng: “In theory, yes, but it’s too risky in practice.”

Each team member voiced their opinions, highlighting the captain’s silence. The three companions turned to Xu Wang, who was deep in concentration, eyes tightly shut and lips moving slightly, as if reciting some secret mantra.

Kuang Jinxin was about to ask when Qian Ai stopped him with a gesture, whispering, “Don’t disturb the captain while he’s using his ‘third eye’.”

Wu Sheng was silent as he watched Xu Wang’s profile thoughtfully.

Two minutes later.

Xu Wang suddenly turned around with eyes full of determination. “I’ll distract her at the other stairway entrance. You guys take the chance to go upstairs. Remember, move quietly and quickly.”

Wu Sheng: “How do you plan to distract her?”

Kuang Jinxin: “What about you after we go up?”

Qian Ai: “Umm, yeah.”

Each had their concerns, but it seemed pale if they didn’t voice out.

Xu Wang first addressed Wu Sheng. “I’ll use sound to distract her.”

He then turned to Kuang Jinxin. “Once she’s distracted, I’ll run back from the first floor and follow you guys upstairs.”

Kuang Jinxin’s worry was evident; their ascent was simple, but Xu Wang had a long way to run. What if the zombie turned back?

Before he could express his concerns, Xu Wang had already dashed downstairs toward the left stairway.

Wu Sheng was already in position, intently watching the nurse zombie’s back and the left stairway where Xu Wang would appear. As the nurse zombie reached about a meter from the left stairway and turned around as usual, Xu Wang emerged at the stairway entrance.

He stayed still until the nurse zombie walked about five to six meters away, about halfway between their stairway and the central stairway to the third floor.

Then, he turned on the device in his hand. The key to this tactic was to keep the zombie facing his direction and back to his teammates, allowing them to sneak upstairs.

At the same time, he needed to extend the “sound distraction” as long as possible to allow himself a chance to retreat via the first floor and then sneak up to the third floor. From beginning to end, the nurse zombie must always have its back facing the stairs on the right and the central stairs.

As he turned on the switch, a buzzing sound like a vibrating phone echoed from his stairway. It wasn’t loud but clear in the silent corridor.

The nurse zombie paused, slowly turning back.

Before she could investigate the noise, its source had already arrived—a fully powered electric shaver sliding to her feet. The “buzzing” was from the shaver’s motor. Its three-sided blades were jumping happily, adding a lively touch to the monotonous sound.

Wu Sheng: “……”

Kuang Jinxin: “……”

Qian Ai: “……”

They had thought Xu Wang would use the Lightning Gun for distraction. The Lightning Gun could delay for ten seconds at most. Even if Xu Wang left it at the stairway and ran back, he would only have ten seconds to run. Therefore, since planning this tactic, Wu Sheng and Qian Ai, like Kuang Jinxin, were worried about Xu Wang.

But then, he pulled out this unexpected gadget.

Who the hell would remember the electric shaver?!

Xu Wang remembered it—not just remembered but also kept it on him, and now it was incredibly useful. This kind of “hard power” was unique to their captain!

“Buzz—buzz—”

The nurse tilted her head, hesitating whether to pick it up or not. Wu Sheng, no longer hesitating, signaled behind him. “Go.”

His words were quick, and his voice was barely above a whisper. The three figures dashed from the right stairway, sneaking up the central stairway behind the nurse zombie as she finally decided to bend down.

At the same time, Xu Wang, who had pushed the shaver, immediately ran back to the first floor and then to the second floor’s left stairway!

By then, the nurse zombie had picked up the shaver and was examining it.

But Xu Wang didn’t stop to look. He charged up the left stairway, not pausing for a moment, swiftly turning at the central stairway and stylishly ascending, as if he knew the nurse zombie would be engrossed with the “sound object” and not turn around.

The three teammates were waiting at the stairway, quickly joining Xu Wang. With the team reunited, they relaxed and began to assess the crucial floor.

The 3F was still a long corridor, but if they observed carefully, they found that both sides of the corridor were walls. The entire third floor only had two rooms that were located at the far ends on the left and right sides—extremely far apart.

Qian Ai looked back and forth a few times and decisively asked the team captain, “Which side do we choose this time? Is it still men on the left and women on the right?”

He now completely treated Xu Wang as a game NPC for clearing levels.

Unexpectedly, Xu Wang hesitated, repeatedly looking at the ends of both corridors, muttering, “This isn’t right. Why are there only two rooms left…”

“Bang—“

“Thud—”

In the room at the end on the right, there was a sudden sound, like a scuffle.

The four companions exchanged glances and rushed to the scene, finding a sign labeled [Laboratory] hanging on the door.

Inside, they saw a young female doctor in a white coat being pinned down by a zombie. Qian Ai, who had just used the [Swish Swish Hidden Blade], immediately waved his arm at the zombie. However, there was no sign of any hidden weapons being launched from his sleeve.

As Qian Ai stood bewildered, Wu Sheng and Xu Wang rushed forward. One stabbed the zombie in the back of the neck with a screwdriver, and the other grabbed the zombie’s collar, working with Wu Sheng to pull it off the doctor.

The young doctor immediately escaped to one side, clutching her chest in shock.

Qian Ai, finally in sync with his stationery, swung his arm at the zombie held by the captain and advisor. He shouted with force from his diaphragm, “Swish—”.

A sharp, short sword flew swiftly from his sleeve, piercing the zombie’s right eye.

Xu Wang and Wu Sheng stood stunned as the zombie fell to the ground. “It really is the [Swish Swish Hidden Blade],” Xu Wang commented.

Wu Sheng nodded vigorously. “Quite impressive.”

Kuang Jinxin, still excited, asked, “Can you do it again?”

Qian Ai replied firmly, “No!”

Next time there’s this kind of stationery, can’t they give a “middle school syndrome, embarrassing, use with caution” warning on the [Cheat Sheet]?!

“You are…” the young female doctor began weakly.

“Vaccines,” Xu Wang said. “We’re here to deliver vaccines.”

The young doctor’s eyes suddenly filled with tears. “Finally, you’ve arrived!”

The four of them, led by the young female doctor, passed through the corridor to a room at the other end, clearly marked [Epidemic Prevention Research Lab] on the door.

The doctor took out her keys and unlocked the door.

However, after entering, there was a second and a third door, both requiring the doctor’s keys to open.

If they had chosen to come this way first, they would have had to go back to “rescue the female doctor”. Clearly, this was a mandatory mission.

The group of five entered the deepest part of the [Epidemic Prevention Research Lab] and finally saw an old doctor standing in front of the equipment.

He was about sixty years old, with square-framed glasses and gray hair, staring blankly at the dim equipment.

“Director Yu,” the female doctor called softly, her voice trembling with excitement. “They have come.”

The old doctor shuddered, turned his head in disbelief, and upon seeing the vaccine box in Wu Sheng’s hands, he seemed to want to speak but couldn’t for a long time. Finally, he took off his glasses and wiped the corners of his moist eyes.

Wu Sheng handed the vaccine box to Xu Wang.

Captain Xu stepped forward, presenting the vaccine box solemnly, like a ceremonial handover.

The old doctor put on his glasses again, his hands trembling as he took the box, and bowed deeply to the four. “Thank you for bringing hope to this city.”

Xu Wang wanted to wrap things up quickly, but the sight of the old man’s white hair touched him, and he absentmindedly replied, “You’re welcome.”

After the handover, the four companions remained silent, quietly waiting for the notification of their successful submission.

One second.

Two seconds.

Five seconds.

No sound.

“What’s going on?” Qian Ai wondered. “Aren’t we done yet?”

Kuang Jinxin foolishly pressed his ear, as if expecting an internal earpiece.

Wu Sheng looked at Xu Wang, feeling that he must know something.

Xu Wang was also clueless, looking at the old doctor, the equipment in the room, and then at the young female doctor. Everything seemed fine. Back then, he had also seen a team delivering vaccines here, with an old and a young doctor, but the assistant at that time seemed to be a young male doctor…

That shouldn’t be a problem. The 3F had more than two offices back then, and the content of the level had been slightly adjusted. He had figured out the differences when entering this room.

So, why haven’t they completed the mission yet?

Wait. Xu Wang pressed his palm against his forehead, supporting his jumbled memories, trying to piece them together more clearly…

That team back then didn’t complete the mission.

Xu Wang’s eyes widened as he finally grasped the last missing piece of memory!

The team that had successfully completed the mission was the one that burst in later, while the team he had followed had failed.

Because, like them, that team thought that entering the [Epidemic Prevention Research Lab] meant they were done…

“Lao Qian!” Xu Wang suddenly drew his Lightning Gun, aiming a jet of water at the young female doctor’s eyes while shouting to Qian Ai, “Hidden Blade—”

The young female doctor screamed in pain under the high-pressure water gun, covering her eyes and clumsily dodging, crying for help.

Qian Ai was confused.

Who should he target with the Hidden Blade, as the captain requested? The female doctor showed no signs of abnormality!

“Lao Qian—” Xu Wang’s voice was desperate and hoarse, his water gun unable to pierce the woman’s eyeballs before she mutated, and once she did, she would become the most ferocious zombie king in the entire level!!!

Qian Ai made a quick decision, focusing on the young female doctor fleeing under the water gun, concentrating his energy, and shouting, “Swish, swish, swish, swish—”

Countless hidden swords shot out like a rain of blades!

The young female doctor suddenly crouched down, the swords flying over her head, all sticking into the ground!

When the last sword fell, the young doctor slowly looked up, her pupils suddenly shrinking and the black fading from her eyes at a visible speed.

Qian Ai’s scalp tingled, and with all his might, he shouted fiercely, “Swish—”

This time, it was only one short sword.

Fast as lightning, with tremendous force, it hit the young female doctor right between the eyebrows. The blade was fully embedded in her head.

The young doctor collapsed to the ground, not dying instantly like a regular zombie, but convulsing and screaming for almost a minute before finally stopping.

Her eyes were still wide open; half of the pupil had turned white, while the other half remained black, as if the mutation had been halted midway when the virus received the signal that the brain had been destroyed, ending in reluctance.

Behind her ear, brushing aside her hair, was a ring of bloody bite marks.

The old doctor came over, took off his white coat, and covered the female doctor’s body.

From beginning to end, he didn’t say a word.

The vaccine was taken out, placed into the equipment, and the lights of the device lit up, like the spark of hope, eventually spreading into vibrant vitality.

[Owl: Congratulations on passing the 3/23 test and handing in your papers! See you tomorrow~~]

……

At the mouth of the Yellow River where it meets the sea, the night was deep and profound.

The four companions landed in a patch of grass, with cursing voices faintly audible hundreds of meters away.

They had successfully submitted their papers, and all their colleagues in the 3/23 scenario would be forcibly ejected, but only those near enough to hear the “cursing” would be either at the villa or at the hospital entrance.

The four companions exchanged glances, reaching a tacit understanding—in such situations, it was essential to keep a low profile and let the others leave first to greatly reduce the risk of being mobbed.

“Crazy, after retreating three levels, we face another three. Are we doomed to only make it through the first six levels in our lives…”

“Don’t let me find out who completed the mission…”

“Completing the mission is a matter of skill. I have no complaints, but which family does that psycho belong to behind the villa?”

“God knows, he probably bit all his teammates to death…”

Gradually, their colleagues approached and then slowly moved away. Soon, there were hardly any sounds around.

The November night wind was cold and harsh, and nobody wanted to stay in it for too long.

The companions breathed a sigh of relief, then turned their attention to the person who played the biggest role in successfully completing the mission today—

Qian Ai: “This was a major breakthrough. What exactly happened?”

Kuang Jinxin: “Captain, how did you know she would mutate?”

Wu Sheng had nothing to ask. He just silently watched, waiting for an explanation.

“I really have been through this level before.” Xu Wang looked up, his tone no longer uncertain. “It’s incredible, I know, but I have evidence.”

Qian Ai and Kuang Jinxin were utterly baffled.

Wu Sheng had daringly considered that Xu Wang’s feeling of “having been here before” wasn’t just a momentary illusion, but he never expected that Xu Wang could actually prove it?

“I need to go back to Beijing,” Xu Wang said, after careful thought, revealing his decision.


<<< || Table of Contents || >>>

Escape From the Asylum Ch101

Author: 木尺素 / Mu Chisu

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


Chapter 101

When Zhou Qian came to the hotel before, he had already chosen a luxury suite in advance, located at the top of the hotel with a view over the entire Blue Harbor City. It was perfect for him and Bai Zhou to sit down, have some drinks, and clear up matters from the past seven years.

However, the silly receptionist now completely disrupted his plans.

Although the suite had two bedrooms… accommodating six people was still a bit too cramped.

Moreover, considering how naive the receptionist seemed, Zhou Qian really didn’t want to be the one asking everyone to leave the hotel. What if the receptionist let something slip and ruined his reputation?

Before he could say more, the receptionist swiftly pulled out a tablet and began introducing the features of the suite. He Xiaowei, Hidden Blade, and the recently arrived Qi Liuxing and Ke Yuxiao, all approached curiously.

The presentation was quite novel, resembling an AR mode where a 3D image of the suite rose directly from the tablet, allowing a full 360-degree view.

Upon seeing the room, He Xiaowei was amazed.

But the price was definitely steep. He couldn’t help but say, “Wow, it’s so expensive. If we convert the Blue Harbor currency to gold coins… it’s truly pricey! Unless all six of us split the cost, I think it’s just barely acceptable.”

Amidst the lively discussion, Bai Zhou remained silent, his gaze settling on Zhou Qian. Zhou Qian, sensing something, met Bai Zhou’s gaze. It felt like despite the world’s noise, their eyes always found a way to intertwine.

After a moment, Bai Zhou approached Zhou Qian, whispering, “Let the four of them stay.”

Zhou Qian pondered. “And what about us?”

Bai Zhou: “Let’s have dinner first. After that, I’ll take you somewhere.”

Staring at Bai Zhou for a while, Zhou Qian chuckled. “Zhou Ge, you have quite a few secrets.”

……

20 minutes later, the six of them were seated in a Hong Kong-style hotpot restaurant.

After chatting with He Xiaowei for a bit, Zhou Qian finally understood why they could find him so quickly—the hotpot restaurant was actually just 800 meters diagonally across from the hotel.

He Xiaowei cheerfully said to him, “We just discovered this place and thought we’d come to find you to see if it met your standards. Just as we left the restaurant and were about to cross the road, we bumped into you and Bai Zhou going to the hotel…”

He Xiaowei didn’t finish his sentence because he was elbowed by Hidden Blade.

“Master?”

Hidden Blade gritted his teeth. “Mind your words.”

He Xiaowei: “?”

Zhou Qian: “…”

He Xiaowei continued to smile broadly. Given his personality, he quickly became friendly with anyone. However, in just this short distance, he had already gotten quite familiar with Qi Liuxing and Ke Yuxiao.

“Let’s go and get the sauces!” After He Xiaowei made this suggestion, everyone started to head towards the sauce area.

Noticing that Zhou Qian remained seated, He Xiaowei asked him, “Eh, Qian’er? Aren’t you coming? Want me to prepare it for you?”

Zhou Qian didn’t respond but looked at Bai Zhou, who stood behind He Xiaowei. Bai Zhou simply smiled cryptically, not saying a word. Completely puzzled, He Xiaowei then heard Bai Zhou ask Zhou Qian, “Just the satay sauce again?”

“Mm.” Zhou Qian nodded and said, gazing at Bai Zhou, “See how sentimental I am? My tastes haven’t changed in so many years.”

He Xiaowei scratched his head, looking back and forth between the two. “Eh, what…?”

Hidden Blade couldn’t help but facepalm and quickly pull He Xiaowei away.

When they officially started eating, the main conversation was between the four ordinary players.

Hidden Blade chose to remain silent, while the genuinely aloof Bai Zhou was quietly helping Zhou Qian with the food, scooping up shrimp, fish, and abalone. Zhou Qian barely had to use his chopsticks.

Qi Liuxing, having been taught from a young age to do things for himself, sometimes disapproved of some of Zhou Qian’s behaviors. This disapproval peaked when he noticed Bai Zhou carefully extracting crab meat to place in Zhou Qian’s bowl, prompting Qi Liuxing to exclaim, “Zhou Qian, it’s not like you don’t have hands!”

Zhou Qian immediately placed his hands behind his back and boldly claimed, “I don’t have them.”

Qi Liuxing: “…”

Zhou Qian laughed, “Ah, such pleasures, Xiao Qi Gege, you as a minor wouldn’t understand.”

“Besides, you’re always so serious. It was thanks to that trait that when we first met, I was able to successfully draw aggro and you shielded me. Next time someone pulls that stunt, don’t fall for it, okay?”

Qi Liuxing: “……….”

“By the way,” Zhou Qian continued, “I know why He Xiaowei and Hidden Blade went to the hotel. But what about you two?”

“After we leveled up to Rank S, we rushed here,” Qi Liuxing said. “I was curious about Blue Harbor City and wanted to see what the instance looks like after reaching Rank S. By the time we arrived, it was late, and having not rested since our last instance run, we found a nearby hotel. We just wanted to rest for the night and try to contact you guys. We didn’t expect to run into you as soon as we entered.”

“So… why did you level up so fast?” Zhou Qian asked.

Qi Liuxing responded, “We found a double experience card.”

“That’s a rare item, isn’t it?” Zhou Qian frowned.

“Yes, it is,” He Xiaowei exclaimed, also surprised. “I thought I was super lucky… but…”

“Free gains often imply a plot.”

At this point, Zhou Qian picked up a piece of crab meat, dipped it in sauce, and instead of eating it himself, he offered it to Bai Zhou, who accepted it after a glance.

Zhou Qian smiled. “Right. You should eat too.”

Seeing this, Qi Liuxing, who was seated opposite them, whispered to He Xiaowei, “I missed one instance run. Did they start dating?”

He Xiaowei responded, “What? Dating? Who’s dating?”

With sharp ears, Zhou Qian shot a meaningful and warning glance at Qi Liuxing, who met his gaze defiantly. “You told me yourself that you were the ‘gazing husband stone’.”

Zhou Qian: “…”

Qi Liuxing added, “And during ‘The Flower of Evil’, you said—”

“Stop!”

Zhou Qian halted Qi Liuxing mid-sentence, set down his chopsticks, and grabbed Bai Zhou by the collar, turning him to face him. His movements were smooth, fluid, and accomplished in one go.

“Zhou Ge, let’s get back to our earlier topic. Why is it that my teammates always end up with these experience cards? Is there some hidden agenda behind this? How much do you know?”

“It could be a deliberate influence, but that’s just one possibility,” Bai Zhou replied. “There’s another possibility.”

Zhou Qian: “What possibility?”

Bai Zhou: “The system assesses player data from various perspectives and provides them with specific instances based on that. You’re already aware of this. Choosing the instances recommended by the system helps players improve their specialized skills. Haven’t you noticed that you always get instances related to hidden achievements?”

Zhou Qian pondered for a bit. “So you mean… the system dropping these cards for my teammates is, in a way, assisting me in selecting team members?”

“No, more precisely, it’s helping many people choose their teams. Is it trying to establish a… genuine legion? What is its endgame?”

“I’ll share some of my speculation about it later,” Bai Zhou said. “For now, eat.”

“Alright.” Zhou Qian released his grip and picked up a shrimp. “The exhibition hall was indeed exhausting. Let’s not talk about that now.”

At that moment, Ke Yuxiao, who had been relatively quiet, spoke up. “I’m familiarizing myself with the interface after reaching Rank S… There’s a public information board here that regularly posts updates, like newly opened instances, and where you can see everyone’s comments. I just saw…”

His tone became serious. “The Peach Blossom Legion has doubled the bounty on Zhou Qian.”

Zhou Qian laughed. “The Peach Blossom Legion doesn’t have capable members, so they’re hiring others as cannon fodder?”

Having heard He Xiaowei’s account earlier, Qi Liuxing got the gist of the situation. After some contemplation, he said, “Something feels off. What’s the Peach Blossom Legion up to? They’ve had multiple encounters with you and should know you aren’t easy to deal with.”

“This bounty might be tempting for smaller legions, but notable legions wouldn’t be interested in such a small reward. As for solo experts, many would be aware of you, especially since your previous clear videos are publicly available. So in special instances where one can’t predict the challenges, no one would dare act recklessly. Why then…”

Qi Liuxing’s point was clear: only the brash and overconfident, like the seemingly Invincible Legion, would dare accept such a bounty. It seemed the Peach Blossom Legion’s bounty was meaningless, as if they were just luring cannon fodder to Zhou Qian.

“First, they might still be testing me. Second, while there are many minor players who want me dead, it still creates some nuisance. They might just be trying to annoy me,” Zhou Qian speculated.

He then asked Ke Yuxiao, “So, is anyone brave enough to take up the bounty?”

“No one has accepted it yet. There’s an interesting comment. Someone wrote—” Ke Yuxiao began reading from the board, “‘I consulted with my Rank God player friend. They say player ​[137]​ is usually very low-key. He never takes on apprentices, nor has he ever taken anyone to a special achievement instance.”

“Hence, he’s never showcased his strength to the average player. Almost no one knows about ​[137]​, but he’s the real deal. This person advises everyone not to take the bounty.'”

Hearing this, Zhou Qian laughed again, looking at Bai Zhou. “I always said, Zhou Ge, you’re my lucky charm. Plus, we have two Rank God players here!”

……

Inside a private booth in the virtual game hall.

As the door opened, high-level gamblers who placed their bets on Zhou Qian were leaving with satisfaction.

To protect players’ privacy, certain content within the game instance wasn’t broadcast in real-time, such as when a player was taking a shower. For semi-open major instances like Blue Harbor City, the system didn’t provide a broadcast feature either. Therefore, since Zhou Qian hadn’t entered the instance yet, the high-stakes gamblers had the opportunity to relax.

In a corner of the booth, Priest slowly smoked a cigarette. By the time he finished it, the surroundings had emptied. He stood up and noticed the sparse crowd in the hall. After scanning the area, his gaze landed on a person sitting quietly in the corner, shivering slightly. He had been sitting for a long time, drained of all strength.

At this time, he heard a voice.

“Do you feel it’s unfair? You’ve put in so much, invested money, energy, and did research. You gathered countless outside information, trying to help Wen Bin achieve victory…”

“But he lost, and so did you, utterly defeated. On the other hand, Zhou Qian’s high-level gamblers… They just followed the right person, did nothing, and effortlessly won money?”

It was Priest’s voice. Observing the man’s reaction, he continued, “The money they won was essentially taken from losers like you. When you think about it, it feels even more unfair, right?”

“You… Are you from the Peach Blossom Legion?” The man looked up. “What do you want from me?”

Priest responded, “Based on your behavior, I think you have potential. That’s all. This game is as such; placing your hopes of victory on someone else feels too elusive. Join the Peach Blossom Legion, and I will personally mentor you.”

“To clear my debts… seems like this is the only path I have left. But I have questions for you,” the man said.

“Ask away.” Priest’s expression is gentle.

The man inquired, “Can Zhou Qian’s gamblers keep winning forever?”

Priest chuckled. “There are no eternal winners in this world. The only difference is whether they fall sooner or later. Experience usually shows us the higher one climbs, the harder they fall. Zhou Qian will face this fate. So will his gamblers.”

“But what if? What if Zhou Qian keeps winning? Then his gamblers can effortlessly win, right?” The man clenched his fists. “Like you said, it’s unfair!”

“If you think that way, then you underestimate human nature,” Priest said. “Human greed knows no bounds.”

“You mean…”

“Before reaching Rank S, a player has only one gambler. At that time, all the prize money belongs to that gambler. But after reaching Rank S, even though the total prize money decreases, the number of people wanting to become Zhou Qian’s gambler increases. If you were one of them, would you be willing to share what belongs to you?”

Seeing the man’s reaction, Priest smiled. “Wait and watch them all sink together.”

……

Blue Harbor City 2301.

He Xiaowei and the others went to the hotel.

Zhou Qian ignored the doubtful look in Qi Liuxing’s eyes and just followed Bai Zhou to the beach.

After walking around the deep blue sea for about ten minutes, Zhou Qian asked Bai Zhou, “So, where are you taking me?”

Bai Zhou looked straight ahead and responded in a gentle tone, “I told you before, I came to Blue Harbor City and bought something at the auction house.”

“Mm.” Zhou Qian looked at him. “So, what did you buy?”

“We’re here.” Bai Zhou slightly tilted his chin forward.

Zhou Qian looked up and saw a two-story villa by the sea.

“You bought a house?”

Zhou Qian walked up to the peculiar-looking door and, turning to Bai Zhou with a smile, asked, “How do you open this?”

Bai Zhou approached and said, “First, let’s register your fingerprint.”

Bai Zhou then pressed Zhou Qian’s index finger on the door lock’s system panel three times, completing the fingerprint registration. After entering the living room and changing shoes, Bai Zhou gave Zhou Qian a tour of the entire house, eventually leading him to the master bedroom, where he provided a clean set of clothes and a bath towel.

“You’ll sleep here tonight. I’ll be in the guest room next door. Do you want to take a bath before sleeping? Want me to make you some milk?”

Zhou Qian, not in a hurry to shower, pointed at the clothes in Bai Zhou’s hand and asked, “Are these all in my size? How long ago did you prepare these?”

Bai Zhou replied, “I thought there might come a day when you’d need them. I wasn’t sure about the size, though. Try them on. If they don’t fit, I’ll buy you more.”

Hearing this, Zhou Qian examined the clothes thoughtfully before accepting them. His expression then turned serious. “Zhou Ge, after my bath, I’d like to drink some alcohol.”

Bai Zhou nodded. “Alright. Just a little. Red wine?”

Zhou Qian replied, “Sounds good. How about we drink together and chat?”

“Okay,” Bai Zhou nodded again.

Afterward, Zhou Qian showered upstairs, and Bai Zhou did the same downstairs. They then climbed the small staircase, heading to the rooftop. The view from the rooftop was stunning, offering a glimpse of Blue Harbor City’s neon-lit sea and the colorful horizon. Zhou Qian enjoyed the vibrant colors, which lifted his spirits.

Taking a sip of wine, Zhou Qian turned to find Bai Zhou draping a light jacket over him.

Zhou Qian squinted and said, “Zhou Ge, sometimes I think you’re quite romantic, like right now. But sometimes, I feel like you don’t understand anything at all.”

Bai Zhou just smiled softly, adjusting the jacket for Zhou Qian and taking a sip from his own glass.

Zhou Qian faced the vast sea ahead. The sea breeze touched his cheeks, leaving a hint of a salty taste in his words.

“I often wonder what the hell you’re thinking.”

Adjusting his white shirt, Zhou Qian began, “Like these clothes. Did you prepare them in advance because you knew I’d enter this game?”

“The time I had carbon monoxide poisoning in the real world, was it you who saved me? That night, I’m sure I saw a dragon. I’m beginning to doubt something…”

Taking another sip of wine, Zhou Qian continued, “Did I die then? Did you, as a god, revive me? What did it cost you?”

He set down his glass and looked at Bai Zhou, tilting his head slightly. “Who is the god in this game?”

Bai Zhou paused before replying, “Your father was a gambler in this game.”

Zhou Qian nodded. “I suspected as much.”

Bai Zhou continued, “He lost in the game and tried to win back his money in the real world through gambling but lost even more. When I found out about it, I learned someone hired your father to kill you. If he succeeded, all his debts would be forgiven. He failed and was killed.”

“So, who has been trying to kill me all this time?”

Zhou Qian frowned. “I’ve always wondered about the motivations of the Peach Blossom Army.”

“In a way, I feel the game chose you. Or us. It’s like an inescapable destiny for both of us. However, someone doesn’t want us to have this ‘destiny’. I have some speculations. In the future, we can verify them together. About that night—”

Bai Zhou continued, “My divine status was already quite advanced. At that time, I already had the ability to manifest as a dragon in reality. That’s why I was able to come to your aid when I received the message. The dragon you saw was indeed me. However, I only managed to get you out of the room. I don’t have the power to resurrect the dead, neither now nor then. So you never died.”

“After forcefully manifesting as a dragon in reality, I exhausted much of my spiritual energy. While you were hospitalized for eight months, I was bedridden for the same period, unable to enter any instance. Unlike you, we aren’t bound by time limits for entering instances. I’m sorry that after getting you out of the room, I couldn’t maintain my dragon form and had to leave, unable to save your mother.”

Zhou Qian shook his head and asked, “You were incapacitated for eight months… So the dragon I saw later wasn’t you?”

Bai Zhou replied with another question, “Are you saying you saw a dragon at Spring Hill Mental Asylum?”

“Yes, many times,” Zhou Qian confirmed. “It was what led me into the game.”

“That wasn’t me,” Bai Zhou admitted. “If I could, I wouldn’t have wanted you to enter. But ever since the incident with your father, I felt the game had chosen you. So…”

Zhou Qian chuckled.

It seemed he had found the answers he was seeking, and he appeared relieved. Looking at Bai Zhou, he said, “So you bought this house and prepared these clothes for me? Zhou Ge…”

“Yes?”

Zhou Qian became serious. “When I was younger, I said some childish and hurtful things. Please don’t take them to heart. About buying a house… I was just trying to annoy you back then. I never expected…”

“Bai Zhou, so what if you’re smart? You’ll never be able to afford a house like mine.”

“Zhou Ge, I’m sorry for what I said that day. You will buy many houses like that.”

……

Thinking about it now, whether it was the former or the latter statement, maybe for Bai Zhou, both were burdensome, right?

He was confined and couldn’t buy a house in the real world. Yet, in his mental sanctuary, he genuinely remembered this and acted upon it, as if he wanted to prove something to someone.

Unbeknownst to him, Zhou Qian put down his glass of wine, laid down, and gazed at the colorful clouds and stars in the night sky.

After a while, Zhou Qian whispered, finally asking the question that bothered him the most. “Zhou Ge, why… seven years ago, did you leave without saying goodbye and transferred schools?”

When asking this, Zhou Qian didn’t look at Bai Zhou; he just stared at the night sky. But his ears were perked up, clearly paying attention to every breath Bai Zhou took.

Bai Zhou replied, “On the day I received the diagnosis, I sat alone in the park behind the hospital for a long time. Someone approached me, asking me to participate in an experiment related to a ‘gene regression’ program. They said it could cure me and promised I’d recover in a few months. I agreed and signed a confidentiality agreement.”

“I see. You thought that in a few months, you could act as if nothing had happened and happily reappear before me.”

As Zhou Qian whispered this, he suddenly realized something.

He often told Bai Zhou that he was perfect. But it turned out that such words might have been a burden for him.

Especially back then, when Bai Zhou was so young. He was at an age where he needed guidance. But perhaps, at that time, Zhou Qian was too dependent on him, making Bai Zhou feel that he could only be the one to rely on and should never show his vulnerability.

Only now did Zhou Qian truly understand that Bai Zhou’s decision to participate in the experiment wasn’t because he wasn’t afraid of death or because he was naive. Even if he knew the chances of survival were slim, even if he realized how absurd the “gene regression experiment” sounded, he would still proceed.

All because he wouldn’t want to be seen in a state of physical decay, becoming paralyzed, disabled, and finally dying miserably.

Of course, it might not be just because of Zhou Qian. Bai Zhou’s parents were also problematic. Due to his birth, his mother missed a promotion and always resented him. His father seemed too busy to care for him.

Bai Zhou felt that his parents couldn’t accept an imperfect version of him. They couldn’t bear the idea of their promising son becoming a victim of a degenerative disease, becoming a lifelong burden.

Both Zhou Qian and Bai Zhou were children neglected by their parents. Both carried trauma from their original families. But these traumas shaped their personalities in very different ways.

At this moment, Zhou Qian couldn’t help but think that Bai Zhou had his own obsessions, wrapping himself in layers of chains. But he didn’t know what he truly looked like in his heart.

There were some things… Maybe he really didn’t understand.

He was always been fulfilling what he believed were his duties and responsibilities in an almost clumsy and stubborn way, but he didn’t understand anything at all.

Zhou Qian clenched his hands tightly, relaxing only after a long while. The starry sky suddenly became blurry, and then he closed his eyes as if to hide his emotions.

But Bai Zhou seemed to see something. He said, “Zhou Qian, when I chose to participate in this experiment, I never thought of seeking death. I have always been fighting for a chance to live. I never thought of leaving you behind. Back then I—”

“It’s okay. Zhou Ge, I understand now,” Zhou Qian said with his eyes closed. “After these few days together and the conversation tonight… I fully understand. I won’t be angry with you anymore.”

“Zhou Qian…”

“I’m tired. I want to sleep here for a while.”

“Alright. Then sleep.”

After an unknown period, feeling Zhou Qian’s breathing become steadier, Bai Zhou knew he had fallen into a deep sleep. The night deepened, and the wind by the sea grew strong. Fearing that Zhou Qian might catch a cold, Bai Zhou eventually carried him downstairs and then into the master bedroom, placing him gently on the bed.

After tucking Zhou Qian in, Bai Zhou turned off the bedroom light and then went out to the hallway.

What Bai Zhou didn’t know was that Zhou Qian, pretending to be asleep, had clenched and then released his hand under the blanket. Standing quietly in the hallway for a long while, Bai Zhou re-entered the room and sat in the chair next to the bed.

The white light from the hallway faintly illuminated half of Zhou Qian’s face while casting a long shadow of Bai Zhou sitting on the chair. After a long while, that shadow finally moved—

Bai Zhou leaned forward, gently brushing away the stray hairs on Zhou Qian’s forehead with his hand. Then, with utmost care, he leaned down and lightly kissed that smooth forehead.

After the soft kiss, Bai Zhou got up to leave. But as he turned, a hand reached out from under the blanket, grabbing his wrist. Bai Zhou stood still.

After a moment, he heard Zhou Qian ask him, “After you transformed into a dragon during ‘Last Wish’, did you do something like what you just did?”

The night was deep.

Zhou Qian’s tone held a hint of provocation.

He then asked, “Zhou Ge, under what pretense should I stay at your house? As brothers, friends, old classmates, or… something else?”


<<< || Table of Contents || >>>

Suddenly Trending Ch55

Author: 颜凉雨 / Yan Liang Yu

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


Chapter 55

Ran Lin stared blankly at Lu Yiyao. From the moment he said “you,” Ran Lin could no longer hear any background noise. It was as if the world suddenly quieted down, leaving only Lu Yiyao’s voice.

People like to be praised.

Had this been in the past, such praise would have set off fireworks in Ran Lin’s heart. But now, he didn’t want to ask further or hear more from Lu Yiyao. The sweet words felt like termites gnawing away at the fortress he had painstakingly built in his heart—he didn’t have an iron wall; just a wooden one, and if not halted promptly, it would eventually be gnawed to ruins.

“There’s something I don’t understand.” Ran Lin lifted his eyes, avoiding Lu Yiyao’s gaze and focusing on the military emblem above his hat brim. “Even if Han Ze dislikes me, he doesn’t need to demean himself by acting in a drama full of newcomers, does he?”

Lu Yiyao, who was immersed in the emotional atmosphere he had just created, was abruptly interrupted and momentarily stunned.

As he tried to answer and naturally sought Ran Lin’s eyes, he found they wouldn’t meet his. Finally, Ran Lin turned to grab a glass of wine, raising it towards Peng Jingyu in a gesture.

Peng Jingyu, not one to refuse, put down his empty glass and picked up a new one. Ran Lin naturally leaned over to clink glasses with him, then politely smiled before turning back and sitting upright, asking Lu Yiyao, “What do you think?”

His question was still about the motive behind Han Ze’s competition for resources, but with this interruption, the previously superfluous Peng Jingyu was brought back into the conversation, and the atmosphere of private conversation between two was completely gone, replaced by a trio engaged in open chat.

Lu Yiyao felt a bit disappointed. Peng Jingyu, on the other hand, felt more at ease and, without waiting for Lu Yiyao to speak, began to interject, “This matter isn’t as complicated as you think. Both of you are from the same company. There’s competition for resources, and your image and positioning are similar. If not this drama, it would have been another. Maybe he just dislikes you. There are plenty of people who do harm for no benefit.”

Lu Yiyao looked at Peng Jingyu with annoyance, suddenly feeling the only reason Peng Jingyu and Huo Yuntao weren’t friends was likely that Huo Yuntao spent most of his time abroad; otherwise, given their talkative nature, they would instantly become fast friends.

Peng Jingyu felt slighted, recognizing the disdain in Lu Yiyao’s gaze. He was all too familiar with it—his own brothers often looked at him with the same sentiment. But he could accept it from his brothers, not from a younger artist.

“Indeed, there are people who do harm without benefit, but those who harm others for their own benefit are more common,” Lu Yiyao dismissively said before diving into his phone for information.

Ran Lin knew Lu Yiyao never spoke irresponsibly, especially when offering advice. He would gather a whole book of evidence to support his point, so when Lu Yiyao began searching on his phone, Ran Lin waited patiently beside him, knowing he would come up with something substantial.

Peng Jingyu, observing the two, one focused and the other patient, grew curious. He had thought about leaving the somewhat awkward conversation, but now he decided to stay, sipping his drink, waiting for Lu Yiyao’s insight.

Lu Yiyao’s search wasn’t too complicated. He was looking up information about Han Ze, mainly recent works, what had been shot and aired, what was ready to air, and what was shot but had no broadcast platform yet. After a quick search, he had a rough idea.

“Han Ze shot two TV dramas the year before last, both supposed to air last year.” Lu Yiyao showed the phone screen to Ran Lin. “But one has been delayed and hasn’t aired yet, and the other aired on a local channel without making a splash. Last year, he only shot one TV drama and one web series. The web series is airing now but is doing poorly in both reviews and views, and the TV drama is still in post-production, scheduled to air this year. But from the cast and plot summary, it seems mediocre at best, unlikely to stand out…”

Ran Lin seemed to grasp the implication. “You mean Han Ze is on a downward trend?”

“Exactly,” Lu Yiyao confirmed. “His current fame is based on past achievements. If an artist continues without work or good work, it’s hard for financiers to regain confidence in them, leading to fewer opportunities, and it’s even harder to pick a good one from diminishing options. It’s a vicious cycle, one reason why once artists flop, it’s hard for them to come back.”

“So he needs to maintain his visibility.” Ran Lin put himself in Han Ze’s shoes, understanding the dilemma. “Because in this industry, there’s never a shortage of people, only resources. Investors have a wide range of choices, and if they don’t see you in their scope, you’re quickly forgotten.”

“But is it worth it to take a step down and play a lead among newcomers?” Ran Lin questioned the value of such a choice.

“It’s a personal decision.” Lu Yiyao turned off his phone, his gaze deep and thoughtful beneath his cap’s brim. “If I were his manager, I’d advise him to wait. An artist’s image can’t withstand overspending. Once associated with bad productions or mediocrity, it becomes harder to impress audiences later, and you might miss truly good opportunities in the meantime.”

“But you can’t be sure there will be good opportunities later.” Ran Lin’s brow furrowed in empathy with Han Ze’s predicament. “Isn’t it a risk either way, potentially missing out on everything?”

Lu Yiyao shook his head. “Even on a downward trend, with Han Ze’s status and popularity, there will always be opportunities. It’s better to wait for something better than jumping at <Chronicles of Winter>.”

Ran Lin felt almost persuaded, or rather, already was. While the logic was sound, not everyone has the confidence or foundation to wait. The ever-changing entertainment industry often leads to panic among those within it.

“What I can’t understand is why Wang Xi, his manager, didn’t dissuade him but instead helped him fight for it,” Lu Yiyao mused. “I can think of this. Wang Xi certainly can too.”

Ran Lin was momentarily surprised, momentarily forgetting his termite-and-wooden-fortress analogy. He looked up and met Lu Yiyao’s gaze, saying, “I find it strange too. If Xi Jie initially intended for Han Ze to take the role, there was no need to involve me at all, causing discomfort all around. The only explanation is that Xi Jie was fighting for this role for me from the beginning, and Han Ze intervened later. But knowing her, she’s not one to be easily swayed by others, so I assumed she simply preferred Han Ze. However, if she could analyze the pros and cons as you say, then she should have advised Han Ze for his own good rather than helping him.”

Lu Yiyao could only shrug in speculation. “Perhaps Han Ze was insistent. Artists often lack a sense of security.”

Ran Lin shook his head. “That doesn’t make sense. Xi Jie is a very assertive person, and it’s hard to shake her from her decisions, even for Han Ze…”

He stopped mid-sentence as past memories surged up like salmon swimming upstream, each vying to leap out of his stream of consciousness.

Various emotions flickered across Ran Lin’s face under his neat student cap. He frowned, squinted, and pursed his lips, his curiosity so palpable that Lu Yiyao wished he could buy a ticket to explore Ran Lin’s mind, even if it meant getting scalped ones.

Finally, Ran Lin spoke again, but it was about something seemingly unrelated. “Do you remember Wang Xi buying a pair of couple’s watches in Dubai?”

Lu Yiyao rubbed his nose, feigning deep thought while actually recalling nothing. He barely remembered 90% of that Dubai trip, aside from struggling to buy gifts for his mother and sister. The only other thing he remembered was the mid-note of the perfume Ran Lin wore.

The scent was light and fresh, and when he smelled it with his eyes closed, he could see blue skies and grassy fields.

“Teacher Lu?” Ran Lin waved his hand in front of Lu Yiyao’s face, not wanting to explore where his thoughts had wandered so far off. “If you don’t remember, just say so. Your silence is making me feel a bit awkward as I’m about to continue.”

Lu Yiyao blinked, pulling his thoughts back from the clouds and into the American-style living room, nodding cooperatively. “Mm. What’s the issue with those watches?”

Daydreaming didn’t affect Lu Yiyao’s ability to keep up with the conversation, a unique skill of his. Ran Lin rolled his eyes in mild exasperation but continued, “Wang Xi has always worn the female watch from that pair, but I’ve never seen her boyfriend, nor does anyone in the company know who he is. More importantly, with her workload, she hardly has time for a relationship. She’s either busy with my affairs or following Han Ze…”

Lu Yiyao’s expression turned incredulous, his mouth slightly open. After a long pause, he ventured, “You’re not suddenly suggesting a bold hypothesis…”

Ran Lin looked steadily at Lu Yiyao’s meticulously fastened military collar, his gaze as calm as dead water. “Indeed, Commander Lu.”

Lu Yiyao playfully patted Ran Lin’s head, unable to ruffle his hair through the cap and resorting to a light tap instead, like picking out a watermelon. “Things are too tumultuous. Maybe you should go back to school instead.”

Ran Lin brushed Lu Yiyao’s hand away, seriously replying, “I’m not joking. Though I’ve never seen Han Ze wear the other watch, this theory makes sense. Even the most assertive women can struggle to maintain their stance when facing their own lovers.”

Lu Yiyao held his forehead in disbelief. “Have you considered the twenty-year age gap between them?”

Ran Lin immediately shook his head. “Fifteen years.”

Lu Yiyao dropped his hand, blinking seriously. “That seems more plausible.”

Ran Lin spread his hands in agreement. “Right…”

Startled by the sudden roar, Lu Yiyao and Ran Lin jerked in unison, turning to see that the previously solitary armchair around Peng Jingyu was now surrounded by people—some sitting on the armrests, some on the wool carpet, and some even squeezed into the same chair as Peng Jingyu. It was a full house.

The sight of the portly, dark erhu musician squeezed next to the pale, Qing gang young master was picturesque enough, but it didn’t end there. A slick-haired actor sat next to an underground worker, their vivid suits and tattered outfits looking as if one of them had been photoshopped into the scene. And then there were the others, including a Beijing opera singer and a young business scion, among others—all gazing with the wide-eyed curiosity of children, their faces full of the eager anticipation of an audience gathered under a bridge to hear a story.

“When did you all come over…” Lu Yiyao felt his collar tighten, almost tempted to unbutton it like Peng Jingyu, but resisted, as that wouldn’t be fitting for his image.

“Since you started looking up Han Ze on your phone.” Xia Xinran smoothed his suit, helpfully clarifying for his friend.

Ran Lin was dumbfounded, realizing they had basically witnessed the entire conversation, wondering how he could have missed such a large audience!

“You two were so engrossed, like you had your own private noise-canceling bubble,” Tan Ying exclaimed, his wide eyes making him an unforgettable character, ill-suited for an underground worker.

“What do you know? It’s like being in a play,” Su Mu interjected with a depth that didn’t match his slick appearance. “When the spotlight hits the stage, it becomes the entire world. A good actor doesn’t think about the audience in the dark, only focusing on the stage—the counterpart, life as the play.”

As Su Mu elegantly sipped his drink, embodying a certain old-world charm, Yuan Yiqun couldn’t resist snatching the glass from his hand, downing it in one go, then looking around, asking, “Where were we?”

Pan Dapan and Peng Jingyu chorused, “Fifteen years apart.”

“Right,” Bi Ye added with a gentle, clear voice. “You suspect something unclear between your manager and the First Brother of your company, who are fifteen years apart.”

Before Ran Lin or Lu Yiyao could respond, Xia Xinran reassured, “Don’t worry, they’re just producing gossip, not spreading it.”

Ran Lin was both amused and exasperated, realizing there were no secrets in this crowd, but trusting Xia Xinran’s assurance that they would keep it to themselves. And he had to trust, for once words are out, there’s no taking them back.

“Don’t worry about us, you guys continue,” Tan Ying encouraged when he saw that the two were still not speaking.

Ran Lin couldn’t laugh or cry. “There’s nothing more to continue. That’s it, and it’s all just speculation. I don’t have any solid proof.”

“To be able to discuss to this extent, I’m really impressed with you two. It’s like a discussion between peers, turning into a level of a detective drama,” Pan Dapan expressed his admiration.

Peng Jingyu listened the longest and the most attentively. He wasn’t interested in what Wang Xi or Han Ze had to say; what surprised him was Lu Yiyao. When this person discussed various “I think,” “I feel,” “I believe” moments, his tone and demeanor were particularly like his two older brothers, and his insights were very clear, not like a male celebrity, but more like a professional who deeply understands the industry.

Peng Jingyu didn’t look down on celebrities, but everyone has their expertise. Thus, artists usually focus more on their work and appearances. This is why they need a management team, as most don’t have the mental capacity or interest to delve into the industry’s rules.

So when he was first asked for his opinion, he simply spoke off the cuff, not thinking too deeply. It was only when Lu Yiyao began to analyze for Ran Lin that he understood the meaning behind “that disdainful look.”

He understood everything Lu Yiyao said, but he had no desire to tax his brain cells for Ran Lin.

If it’s no trouble, then it’s no trouble. Still, he wanted to interject and be disliked for it, not feeling wronged in the slightest.

No one noticed that Young Master Peng was reflecting on himself. Everyone was eagerly expressing their views on the “older woman, younger man romance speculation,” engrossed in their discussion.

But in the end, it was just speculation. No one could definitively say whether it was a romance or not.

Someone started discussing other gossip later, not avoiding others’ ears nor minding being overheard. Thus, Ran Lin inadvertently gathered a basketful of information that paparazzi would die for, feeling the regret of attending this party—unable to speak, only listen, like a choked Pixiu.

After some time, when people got tired of chatting, they gathered around the sofa, leaning and lying down, with people on the sofa, on the armrest, on the carpet, and some even brought over bar chairs. The group’s high and low positions were scattered but orderly, and a string instrument brought them back to old times.

Pan Dapan sat on a chair he had pulled over, which was originally next to the dining table, with a dark brown, solid wood back engraved with hollow patterns, making it look like someone had invited a traveling artist to a wealthy family’s home. Thus, the dusty figure with his instrument seemed out of place.

Yet, the sound of his erhu was soul-stirring.

In his memory, the erhu was always sorrowful and poignant, tugging at one’s heartstrings, but the piece Pan Dapan played was vigorous and powerful. Ran Lin never knew that listening to the erhu could be so exhilarating.

After the piece ended, the living room fell silent, but the echoes lingered for a long time.

Pan Dapan looked at Bi Ye, somewhat provocatively. Bi Ye calmly responded, “<Listening to the Pines>.”

Ran Lin quietly searched on his phone and discovered it was a piece by Abing, the composer of <Reflection of the Moon on Erquan>, said to have first been performed during the Anti-Japanese War, fitting the Republic of China theme of the day.

Pan Dapan was slightly disappointed at not stumping Bi Ye but was undeterred. He set down his bow and raised his chin. “Let’s hear you play something.”

Bi Ye didn’t refuse and stood up. Although he was dressed as a famous actor, he was in a simple long robe without makeup. Still, as soon as he posed, his eyes sparkled, and he exuded charm.

“Suddenly realizing that all the vibrant colors of flowers~~ have all turned to decayed walls and broken wells~~ What a beautiful day, what a pity it is~~ Pleasures of the heart, whose courtyard will they grace~~ Morning flight and evening curl~~ Clouds and mist in the emerald tower~~ Rain strands and wind fragments, a painted boat in the waves~~ People by the brocade screen hardly notice how cheap this beautiful time is…”

“<Peony Pavilion>,” Lu Yiyao whispered to Ran Lin.

Caught off guard, Ran Lin’s ears heated up.

It took him a while to recover, glancing at Lu Yiyao from the corner of his eye. The man was still seriously listening, nodding his head occasionally, a knowledgeable demeanor.

But Ran Lin felt there was something odd about Lu Yiyao today, though he couldn’t pinpoint what it was.

He must have seen Ran Lin’s confusion in telling him the title of the play.

Unfortunately, knowing the name didn’t help Ran Lin understand what Bi Ye was singing. But his ignorance didn’t stop him from enjoying it. Bi Ye sang with great charm, the kind that didn’t require understanding the background or knowing the title—purely enjoyable on a sensory level.

What started as a contest between Bi Ye and Pan Dapan somehow turned into a talent show of the Republic of China era.

Peng Jingyu supported his head with one hand, watching Su Mu sing <Tuberose> doubting his choice of friends.

But he liked these eccentrics—a breath of fresh air in a world filled with pretense and politeness, no matter how strangely they flowed.

Watching Ran Lin and Lu Yiyao whisper occasionally, Peng Jingyu couldn’t help but feel mischievous, thinking it would be a shame not to play a prank after feeling ignored, disliked, and weirdly tormented.

As Su Mu’s lingering song ended, time seemed to have been brought back to the nightclubs of old Shanghai. Yuan Yiqun was urging Pan Dapan for another piece, <Zhaojun Chu Sai>, when Peng Jingyu suddenly spoke up. “Ran Lin.”

Still immersed in the melody of “I love this boundless night,” Ran Lin looked up bewilderedly. “Hm?”

Peng Jingyu leaned forward, resting his arm on the sofa armrest, but his voice was clear to the whole room. “Why don’t you give us a performance?”

Ran Lin was confused. “A performance of what?”

Peng Jingyu grinned mischievously. “Anything, wind, strings, sing, or dance, or even a fast-paced talk—but it has to be something from the Republic of China era to fit our party theme.”

Ran Lin was bewildered.

The onlookers became excited, and Yuan Yiqun stopped pestering Pan Dapan, looking forward to the “newbie’s” performance—compared to the “old hands”, Ran Lin was certainly fresher.

Facing so many expectant eyes, Ran Lin felt trapped.

The atmosphere was just right, and everyone was having fun. If he said no, it would really dampen the spirits… But no one said anything about preparing a talent, especially one from the Republic of China era. How much more difficult could it be!

Lu Yiyao knew these people meant no harm and were just overly excited, but he still disliked seeing Ran Lin’s helpless look, and frowned, “I…”

“This is a ditch of despairing dead water…”

Ran Lin’s clear voice interrupted Lu Yiyao’s words and dispelled the lingering ambiguity of <Tuberose>. Suddenly, his articulate recitation pulled the entire space from the peaceful world of Shanghai’s grandeurs to the old society riddled with warlord strife and rampant imperialism.

“… A gentle breeze can’t stir a ripple here, it’s better to throw in some broken copper and iron, boldly splash your leftover soup and dishes.”

“Perhaps the copper will turn green like jade, rust on the iron cans bloom into peach flowers, let the grease weave a layer of fine silk, and mold steam up some clouds and mists.”

“Let the dead water ferment into a ditch of green liquor, floating with pearls-like froth, the laughter of the small bubbles turning into larger ones, only to be burst by mosquitoes stealing a drink.”

“Then such a ditch of despairing dead water can boast a bit of vibrancy, if a frog can’t stand the loneliness, it’s as if the dead water has sung out.”

“This is a ditch of despairing dead water, this place is not where beauty lies, better to leave it to the ugly to cultivate, to see what world they can create!”

Ran Lin recited earnestly, with focus.

No one laughed, instead becoming entranced.

Lu Yiyao suddenly remembered Su Mu’s metaphor: when the spotlight shines, everything else is in darkness except oneself and the stage. Ran Lin was now on stage, shining under everyone’s gaze.

Then someone clapped.

No, it was applause.

Wen Yiduo’s <Dead Water>.” Su Mu lowered his hand and looked at Peng Jingyu. “Do you want to return with a piece?”

Peng Jingyu froze, still defiant. “What is there to return?”

Bi Ye said leisurely, “You asked someone else to perform, and they complied. Shouldn’t you reciprocate?”

Peng Jingyu was embarrassed, not sure whose side these bastards were on!

“Forget it. Let’s not force him,” Tan Ying intervened. “He’s just capable of listening to the faint sounds, not reaching the heights of anti-feudalism and anti-imperialism.” Then, suddenly turning to Ran Lin, his eyes bright and earnest. “Why don’t you join me as an underground worker? I think you have the integrity and potential!”

Ran Lin didn’t know whether to laugh or cry; his recitation’s brewing momentum was now gone like smoke.

Su Mu, who had just finished singing <Tuberose>, was displeased. “Who are you calling faint sounds?”

Before Tan Ying and he could argue, Xia Xinran had already stepped forward, nudging Lu Yiyao aside and wrapping an arm around Ran Lin’s neck, laughing. “They’re all crazy, but they’re good people.”

All the friends, whether watching the spectacle or involved in the argument, instantly paused.

Half a second later, everyone burst out—

“The one reciting poetry at a party is the real crazy one!!!”

Lu Yiyao was the first to laugh out loud.

Now he was just a spectator, fully enjoying the show.

After the collective teasing, the handsome men of the Republic of China era laughed together in a disorderly bunch…

Click.

The sensitivity to the sound of a camera’s shutter is almost a shared trait among all artists. In an instant, the laughter stopped abruptly.

Everyone’s first reaction was to turn their heads sharply, looking in one direction—Tian Mai.

Tian Mai, holding an old camera and wearing a checkered cap, looked innocent. “I’m a tabloid journalist.”

All the male gods slowly rose, advancing towards him step by step. “Even the paparazzi of the Republic of China are paparazzi, unforgivable…”

Ran Lin and Lu Yiyao sat at a distance, leisurely watching the scene.

Tian Mai was almost instantly overwhelmed, managing only to howl—

“I damn well didn’t turn in my paper yet!!!”

Lu Yiyao couldn’t help but chuckle, whispering, “Xia Xinran wasn’t wrong. They are a bunch of crazies.”

Ran Lin looked at them with a bit of envy. “But they’re cute. It’s not easy to have friends like this in the circle.”

“It’s not easy indeed, and you even have to perform.” Lu Yiyao laughed. “If it were me, I would have probably killed the mood.”

Ran Lin was both relieved and a bit proud. “Luckily, I was there. I’ve been practicing recitation lately, and several of the poems I’ve chosen are from the Republic of China era. If one wasn’t enough, I could have recited a few more.”

Lu Yiyao was about to ask why he was practicing this when he suddenly remembered the critical scene in <Sword of Fallen Flowers> when Zhong Jiakun seemed to have mentioned something about recitation to Ran Lin, though he didn’t remember clearly…

“I really have to thank Teacher Zhong. If he hadn’t suggested I use recitation to practice my lines, I might really have had to sing <Night in Shanghai>.” Ran Lin felt the situation was both coincidental and lucky.

As Lu Yiyao’s fragmented memory pieced together, he felt even more surprised. “He just mentioned it, and you took his advice and practiced?”

Ran Lin frowned slightly, not too pleased. “What do you mean ‘just mentioned’? When a teacher who has acted all his life is willing to give you advice, it’s something people beg for.”

Lu Yiyao looked at him for a long while and then nodded, admitting he was right.

In his heart, he felt it wasn’t just luck with Ran Lin; it was that he was more hardworking than many.

Ran Lin felt uncomfortable under Lu Yiyao’s gaze and turned away to look at the group of friends.

The handsome men of the Republic of China era were now chasing and playing near the staircase, a chaotic bunch, hard to distinguish one from another.

Lu Yiyao followed his gaze, then said softly, “Don’t envy them. We too have a deep connection.”

Ran Lin glanced at Lu Yiyao, relieved to see he wasn’t staring too intently, but he didn’t continue the conversation.

The truth was, they couldn’t go back to being completely carefree with each other. They could still be friends, but not like the carefree group at the staircase. But he couldn’t voice this; it would only spoil the mood and add to the awkwardness.

He thought Lu Yiyao would press him on why he wasn’t speaking, but instead, he asked a different question. “If you liked me back then and I liked you too, what would we be like now?”

Ran Lin’s breath hitched, his first instinct was to turn and look at Lu Yiyao with wide eyes.

He knew he shouldn’t, but he couldn’t help it; if this were a play, he would scour the script for clues. This kind of spoiler-free “deep conversation” was scarier than a horror movie.

Compared to Ran Lin’s shocked face, Lu Yiyao was calm, lightly smiling. “Don’t look at me like that. I’m just hypothesizing. You can treat it like an academic question.”

Ran Lin, pushed to his limits, retorted, “I’m the person involved, okay? I can’t even confide in a tree hollow without losing face, and you want me to discuss it like an academic question now?! You really think I can just turn the page and…”

A flicker of hope suddenly passed through Lu Yiyao’s eyes.

Unaware, Ran Lin swallowed hard, continuing with difficulty, “Turning the page… Of course, it’s turned, but it’s not something joyous. I really don’t want to bring it up again for discussion. If you consider me a friend, this matter…”

“I’m asking because I consider you a friend.” Lu Yiyao interrupted, his gaze intently fixed on Ran Lin’s face, with unprecedented seriousness. “No matter who you like, even if it’s not me, you will meet someone else in the future. If it happens that the feelings are mutual, what do you plan to do then?”

Ran Lin was startled by his seriousness and reflexively said, “Then I’ll be with them.”

Lu Yiyao glanced at the staircase, where the noisy crowd had dispersed, most following Pan Dapan to the bar, leaving a few scattered here and there, some standing by the window in a daze, others sitting on the stairs chatting.

Withdrawing his gaze, Lu Yiyao’s voice was deep and slow. “If both of you are artists, have you thought about the future?”

Ran Lin paused, surprised that Lu Yiyao was seriously discussing this with him, and instinctively became more earnest, distancing himself from petty romances to think objectively.

After a while, he heard himself say, “If that person is willing to risk ruining their career to be with me, then I’m not afraid of anything.”

Lu Yiyao’s heartbeat quickened, a barely perceptible tremor in his voice. “What about your own career? You love acting so much, aren’t you afraid of it being destroyed overnight?”

“So many things can ruin an actor: rumors, scandals, accidents, even disputes with the agency. Any one of these could end me. But even if I’m not an actor, I still have my life to live.” Ran Lin gave a bitter smile; his voice lowered almost to a whisper. “I was born liking men, and that’s something I can’t change. The so-called ‘right person’ one meets in a lifetime is actually quite limited. No one is obliged to wait for you, and I’m afraid of hesitating and missing out.”

Lu Yiyao fell silent, his face calm, but his eyes seemed to be swirling with many thoughts.

“Of course.” Ran Lin shook off the heavy mood, trying to show a relaxed smile and look spirited. “It’s best not to be discovered. So, if there really comes a day you mentioned, I’ll be fully alert, becoming a 360° impenetrable underground worker.”

Finally, Lu Yiyao relaxed, his shoulders slumping. “Easier said than done. You think the paparazzi are vegetarians.”

The heavy and solemn atmosphere vanished, and Ran Lin raised an eyebrow. “I’m not vegetarian either!”

Lu Yiyao smiled. “May I ask, what did non-vegetarian Classmate Ran do yesterday?”

Knowing yesterday was Valentine’s Day, Ran Lin immediately replied, “Stayed home all day, scandal-proof, completely safe.”

Lu Yiyao nodded, reached out to straighten Ran Lin’s hat, and adjusted his uniform, making sure he looked neat and tidy from head to toe, then finally, contentedly spoke—

“Next year, on the same day, can I spend it with you?”


Kinky Thoughts:

Fuck me, Lu Yiyao is not putting on any brakes.


<<< || Table of Contents || >>>

Suddenly Trending Ch54

Author: 颜凉雨 / Yan Liang Yu

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


Chapter 54

Perhaps knowing she wasn’t bringing good news, Wang Xi said at the end of the call, “Your salary has been transferred to your account.”

Ran Lin’s indignation was momentarily interrupted by this statement. “What salary?”

“The salary for <Sword of Fallen Flowers>.” Wang Xi seemed amused by his naïve reaction, her tone unconsciously lightening. “It has been transferred to your card. If you don’t want it, you can transfer it back to the company.”

The salary for <Sword of Fallen Flowers> was actually given in stages. A part was prepaid after signing the contract, and the rest was gradually paid as filming started until wrap-up. Usually, Dream Without Limits’ side would settle with the artists after receiving the full payment. Ran Lin thought it would take a few more months.

Exaggeration aside, this was Ran Lin’s first pot of gold in his career. Even after the agency took seventy percent, the remaining thirty percent was a huge sum for him, so huge that it could blow away his frustration over losing the role to Han Ze.

“Xi Jie, did you purposely save this news for last?” Ran Lin tried to sound indifferent to money, but the slight excitement in his voice betrayed his vulgarity.

Wang Xi suddenly found this straightforward Ran Lin kind of endearing.

“Alright, check your bank card and confirm the transfer, then message me.” Wang Xi, not wanting to delay her artist from counting his money, ended the call decisively.

Ran Lin hung up, opened his banking app, logged into his account, and was unsurprisingly dazzled by the balance.

For the first time in his life, his bank account had broken seven figures.

Ran Lin flopped onto the sofa, momentarily forgetting his ultimate pursuit as a performing artist, and indulged in being a base and happy youth.

After some time, as the excitement slowly faded, Ran Lin started to feel a prickling in his eyes.

When he first entered the industry, he boasted to his parents that once he made it big, he would buy them cars and houses and treat them to the best. His parents didn’t take it seriously, only hoping he would do well enough to support himself.

As his acting career remained lackluster, he dared not mention those bold words again and even started to slowly accept the expectations of his parents—just to make a living and have a smooth career.

Three and a half years passed, and Ran Lin finally dared to dust off the most hidden wish in his heart, examine it carefully, and hold it again.

Later, Ran Lin video called his mother on WeChat to report the salary. Part of it was to make his parents happy, and part of it was to assure them that he could sustain himself in the capital, so they wouldn’t worry he might struggle at any moment.

On the phone screen, Ran Yimin and Lu Qing sat shoulder to shoulder, heads touching, creating a picture of marital bliss. Yet, one was bewildered and the other frowned deeply, a far cry from Ran Lin’s anticipated “we’re a base and happy family.”

“Aren’t you happy?” Ran Lin asked while shaking the phone, as if this would shake out his parents’ reaction.

Indeed, it worked, as Lu Qing sighed and said earnestly, “Son, no matter what you end up being, you’re our pride. If you really can’t make it, just come back home. Your parents will support you!”

“What did Dad tell you? To be practical and not to pretend to be more than you are.” Ran Yimin also shook his head seriously.

Ran Lin’s eyes widened, almost wanting to rush home and check his birth certificate. “Mom, can you have a little faith in your son? Dad, when did you ever tell me to be practical? I remember what you always say: ‘a thousand cups too few when friends meet1, even a little breeze makes me float2.'”

1Refers to when with good friends, even drinking a thousand cups isn’t enough, implying the joy and enthusiasm of drinking and partying in your social circle.
2Metaphorical way of saying a person is easily elated or gets carried away with a little encouragement or excitement.

Ran Yimin’s shoulders slumped in helplessness, shaking his head. “This child is done for. He’s completely gone bad, now arguing back…”

“He’s been arguing back since second grade.” Lu Qing glanced at Ran Yimin without amusement, then looked back at Ran Lin, scrutinizing him through the screen. Finally, she seemed to believe a little, “Really?”

“Really.” Ran Lin felt exhausted. How could reporting good news to his own parents feel like dealing with a telecom scam. “I’ll send you the card number later, and I’ll transfer the money back to you.”

“Why transfer it back to us? Your dad and I don’t lack money.”

“Then save it for me.”

“That doesn’t seem right. It’s your money after all…”

“Mom, I’m your son. Why are we even distinguishing between you and me…”

“Give half then. Keep half for yourself, and I’ll save the other half for you.”

“Mom, your struggle with this decision was really brief…”

With the good news reported and a plan for the money, Ran Lin felt something was off. “Mom, why aren’t you excited at all? You’re too calm.”

Lu Qing glanced at him. “Money isn’t as valuable nowadays. It doesn’t last long, so don’t think you’re all that just because you’ve earned this much. You still need to work hard and not mess around, hear me?”

Ran Lin straightened up and saluted. “Yes, Commander Lu!”

Lu Qing rolled her eyes at him, finally showing a relieved smile.

On the screen, his father got up and then came back with an unfinished bottle of Maotai from the New Year.

When his father was happy, he loved to drink, and when he wasn’t, he would still drink. But drinking good liquor meant he encountered something joyful, and he was feeling especially good.

Ran Lin watched his parents quietly. In that moment, he felt he was the happiest person in the world.

……

The next day, at 8 p.m., he arrived at the Aobei Villas.

Ran Lin knew why the private party was set here when he was stopped by the security—the environment was secluded enough, the location was discreet, and the security was tight.

The low-density residential planning allowed each villa ample private space, and the thoughtful landscaping, with a clever arrangement of various trees and flowers, not only ensured lighting within the villas but also provided excellent separation and shielding. Like Ran Lin standing at the entrance of the villa area, even in the dark, he could see nothing but vague trees.

Not long after making a call, Xia Xinran came out to pick him up. Wearing a mask and a cap in the late evening, he didn’t look like a typical driver at all, but the security didn’t show any signs of suspicion. Seeing someone from inside coming to pick him up, they immediately let him through.

Ran Lin got into the car and first buckled his seatbelt.

Xia Xinran glanced at him with annoyance and said, “You know the speed limit here is not to exceed 20, right?”

Through the mask, Xia Xinran’s voice was muffled, and his stunning beauty was hidden, leaving only a pair of watery eyes.

Ran Lin seriously replied, “It’s every citizen’s duty to abide by traffic rules.”

As the car drove deeper into the villa, Ran Lin noticed that even upon entering, it was hard to catch a glimpse of the villas along the main road; nothing but green trees lined both sides. The privacy in this area was taken to the extreme.

Driving leisurely, Xia Xinran occasionally glanced at Ran Lin and finally asked, “Have you lost weight?”

“Can you even tell?” Ran Lin puffed his cheeks. “I gained quite a few pounds over the New Year.”

“Is it exhausting from filming?”

“Yep.”

Xia Xinran frowned in distress. “Why do I get fatter the more exhausted I am from filming? Now, every time I start a project, I have to bring a scale, or else I feel uneasy.”

“Getting fat from being tired is unlikely unless you’re eating more.”

“Of course, I eat more when I’m tired. Otherwise, what’s the point of living?”

“…You wouldn’t be too much, even if you got fatter to death!”

Ran Lin didn’t know why he was discussing such unproductive matters with Xia Xinran. Yet miraculously, the awkwardness and unfamiliarity from not seeing each other for nearly a year didn’t occur; they didn’t even need pleasantries before Xia Xinran pulled him into an old friend mode, smooth and natural.

“Right.” Xia Xinran suddenly remembered something. “When we get inside, I’ll introduce you to the friends who’ve already arrived, and then we’ll change clothes.”

“Okay.” Ran Lin agreed readily, then asked, “How many people are there today?”

“A dozen or so,” Xia Xinran said. “If friends bring friends, at most it won’t exceed twenty. The New Year just passed, so everyone’s busy. It’s hard to gather. Lucky it’s a Republic-era party. Otherwise, it might not have been possible to arrange.”

Ran Lin nodded, not saying much more.

Xia Xinran seemed to read his mind and casually said, “Relax. It’s just a friends’ gathering. Imagine, everyone in Republic-era attire, earnestly playing out a time travel scenario. It’s so quirky, you can’t even be serious if you wanted to.”

Ran Lin smiled, imagining the scene, indeed splendid.

Just about to ask what Xia Xinran had prepared for his costume, he had already made a turn and stopped the car.

Several other cars, including luxury ones, were parked nearby; clearly, the owners preferred convenience and parking together with their friends.

Ran Lin followed Xia Xinran out of the car and walked down a side path to the end, where the grand entrance to the villa stood.

After knocking a couple of times, someone inside opened the door, and upon seeing Xia Xinran, they joked, “I thought you lost the person you were picking up.”

The door was opened by a tall and straight young man in a dark gray soft wool suit with a three-piece set, a crisp dark shirt underneath his vest, and a carefully folded handkerchief peeking out of his chest pocket. His features were clear and handsome, his hair neat yet casual—a perfect portrayal of a pampered young master from the Republic era.

Ran Lin recognized the person—Yuan Yiqun.

He became famous last year with a TV series and had already parted ways with his original agency to set up his own. It was rumored that the termination fee was nearly ten million, and surprisingly, they settled without a lawsuit, which was quite rare in the industry.

“Ran Lin, this is Yuan Yiqun, our host today.” As soon as the door was closed, Xia Xinran hurriedly introduced them to avoid any awkwardness for Ran Lin.

Ran Lin expressed his gratitude and immediately extended his hand. “Hello, I’m Ran Lin.”

“Yuan Yiqun.” The young man shook his hand and then, half-jokingly and half-seriously, said, “You can call me Young Master Yuan. It fits my role today better.”

Ran Lin laughed and asked, “Which family’s young master?”

Yuan Yiqun flipped his hair. “The young master of the Yuan family conglomerate.”

Ran Lin was amazed. Indeed, getting into character, even the persona was richly detailed.

Such gatherings are for fun, aiming to enjoy and let loose, a rare opportunity in the entertainment industry. Once relaxed, people tend to bond more easily. If the party goes well and relationships are formed, future collaborations in the industry will be smoother.

Without needing to change shoes, Ran Lin followed Xia Xinran and Yuan Yiqun into the living room. Young Master Yuan’s lace-up leather shoes tapped rhythmically on the floor, like the opening drumbeat of a play, leading them onto the stage.

The living room was brightly lit, with an American retro decoration style and an overall dark brown hue, truly giving off a nostalgic feeling of time reversal. More importantly, the intricately patterned European sofas were occupied by two brothers in similar retro outfits, chatting over drinks, and in one corner of the living room, a brother dressed as an old-time entertainer was casually playing the erhu, while another, in a plain long shirt, was humming an opera.

Old records were playing in the living room. The soft tunes of old Shanghai occasionally mixed with the erhu and Beijing opera, creating a harmonious blend as if the Republic era was meant to be just like this—a blend of elegant and miscellaneous arts.

When Yuan Yiqun brought people in, the two brothers on the sofas stood up to greet them. One was in a suit, though the colors were bright, and his hair was slick, somewhat undermining his deep features. The other was in a rough short outfit with patches, his thick eyebrows and big eyes making him look like an exploited poor man, incongruous with the glass of red wine in his hand.

“Xia Fan, why haven’t you changed yet? You’re ruining the atmosphere, you know.” The “poor man” criticized Xia Xinran first thing.

Ran Lin was surprised, looking at his friend. “Xia Fan?”

“That’s my original name. I changed it after debuting,” Xia Xinran replied irritably, glaring at the thick-browed man. “These guys insist on calling me by it.”

The thick-browed man disagreed. “Xia Fan sounds so much better, simple and clear. What’s with Xia Xinran? It sounds pretentious.”

Xia Xinran was annoyed, simply raising his hand. “Let me introduce. This pure and straightforward guy is Tan Ying, Tan Dage.”

The thick-browed man rolled his eyes. “I’m only twenty-nine, thank you.”

Xia Xinran shrugged. “Already old. Besides, you look anxious to age.”

Tan Ying, known in the circle for his solid acting skills but low profile, took a steady and firm approach in his career. He didn’t deliberately cultivate a fan base or a persona, so his popularity had always been moderate. However, many directors liked to work with him because he was sincere and put heart into his acting.

Surprise flashed in Ran Lin’s eyes. He had seen Tan Ying’s films but never connected the person in front of him with those roles. It was a testament to how the man could truly transform into whatever he played.

“Comrade Ran Lin, hello!” After bantering with Xia Xinran, Tan Ying was the first to extend his hand.

Ran Lin shook it, somewhat dazed, and the other immediately gripped firmly and shook vigorously.

Inspired, Ran Lin responded robustly, “Comrade Tan Ying, pleased to meet you!”

Tan Ying was pleasantly surprised. “You noticed?”

Ran Lin suppressed a laugh and nodded vigorously. “With such thick eyebrows and a righteous look, you must be an underground worker!”

Tan Ying couldn’t be more delighted and immediately turned to Xia Xinran. “Xia Fan, I like him!”

“We all love our Ran Lin, okay?” Xia Xinran quickly pulled Ran Lin to his side, as if to protect him from being recruited by Tan Ying as a patriotic warrior.

The other person who had stood up with Tan Ying, the slick-haired man in the suit who had been quietly observing, finally found his moment to speak, calmly saying, “Hello, I am Su Mu.”

Ran Lin felt his ears might be pregnant.

Su Mu’s voice was more velvety and sensually deep than anything heard in cinemas or on television, tinged with a slight magnetism.

Unlike Tan Ying, Ran Lin recognized him immediately—even though his current outfit was indescribable.

Su Mu, a rising star in art films over the past two years, had won an international award with his first lead role. He preferred theater to films and, even after gaining fame, continued to pick only the art films he liked, spending the rest of his time in theater. He was a man of particular taste and distinction, known for his chiseled features. Though he had single eyelids, his eyes always appeared deep and melancholic on camera, as if hiding a vast ocean, making him the sort of man whose every frame could be used as a desktop wallpaper.

Yet now, this godlike man had dressed himself as a flamboyant, slick-haired character in a gaudy suit, making Ran Lin want to wash his hair for him.

“Hello.” Ran Lin believed there was no need to repeat his own name. He was more curious about Su Mu’s character. “What is this outfit supposed to be?”

“A male movie star from the Republic era.”

“……”

“I know men didn’t have much status in films back then. I wanted to dress up as a movie queen, but they wouldn’t let me.”

Ran Lin held back the urge to agree that “they were right.”

Cross-dressing… would indeed be a disaster with Su Mu’s cold and sculpted features.

As they talked, the “Beijing Opera performer” and the “erhu musician” also joined them. The former was a young designer named Bi Ye, who also worked on styling for movies and TV dramas. The latter was a well-known musician named Pan Dapan, whose robust build was far from the typical image of a suffering artist from the old days and seemed more fitting for a tough guy collecting protection fees.

With the arrival of these four, along with Yuan Yiqun, Ran Lin, and Xia Xinran, there were now seven people.

Ran Lin noticed how familiar Xia Xinran was with them, and consequently, they were all quite friendly towards him. After a brief chat, they urged each other to go and change.

Without needing Yuan Yiqun to lead the way, Xia Xinran took Ran Lin directly to the dressing room.

Dozens of new outfits were laid out, with every imaginable option available.

Ran Lin picked up a dancer’s skirt. “Explain.”

Xia Xinran didn’t hide anything. “I originally invited some girls who are good friends to come over, but after preparing the clothes, Tan Ying and Su Mu said they disagreed, fearing scandals, so we left them.”

Ran Lin caught on. “Aren’t you afraid of scandals?”

Xia Xinran’s face lit up with longing. “I’m desperately hoping for a scandal right now. So many trolls are spreading rumors that I’m gay, and the more it spreads, the more it seems true. It’s killing me!”

Ran Lin couldn’t muster any sympathy. “It’s your fault for being so beautiful.”

“It’s not like I want to be beautiful,” Xia Xinran replied, his face full of the hardships of being attractive. “It’s the hand I was dealt. Should I not accept it?”

Ran Lin, frustrated by the banter, cut straight to the point. “Which one should I wear?”

Xia Xinran pointed to three sets. “Any of these sizes will fit you. Choose whichever you like.”

Ran Lin couldn’t make out the other two flashy sets, so he sensibly chose the third option—the May Fourth Movement youth attire.

A black Zhongshan suit with matching pants and a May Fourth cap, along with Ran Lin’s youthful face, made him look exactly like a fervent student ready to march in a protest.

After adjusting his attire in the mirror, Ran Lin was quite pleased. He had never acted in a Republic-era drama, and this was his first time dressing up like this.

Turning around contentedly, Ran Lin was stunned, speechless at the sight of Xia Xinran.

Xia Xinran wore a light blue slanted button-up shirt and a black long skirt, appearing as a Republic-era student—no, a Republic-era female student.

“Are you matching with me as a couple?” Ran Lin couldn’t think of any other explanation.

Xia Xinran smirked, linking arms with Ran Lin. “That’s exactly the effect I was going for.”

Ran Lin swallowed nervously. “What are you trying to do?”

Xia Xinran’s eyes shone with anticipation and excitement, seemingly unable to wait to stun everyone. “Give them a surprise.”

Ran Lin sighed. “You really aim high…”

Indeed, Xia Xinran’s entrance was a sensation.

Underground worker Tan Ying and movie star Su Mu immediately spat out their red wine, Beijing Opera performer Bi Ye and the erhu musician Pan Dapan went off-key together, and Young Master Yuan Yiqun couldn’t contain his laughter, nearly flipping the roof with joy.

Pleased with the effect he had caused, Xia Xinran was about to go change into something more normal when suddenly an eighth voice rang out in the living room.

“Firstly, remember to close the door tightly, and secondly, if you haven’t, don’t laugh so unrestrainedly.”

The voice was teasing and lighthearted, yet it carried a cold and distant tone.

Ran Lin turned around, stunned.

Three new people had entered the living room.

The speaker was a young man with a buzz cut, clearly dressed and ready, wearing a long gown reminiscent of an old Shanghai gang leader, complete with a pocket watch and an imposing demeanor. Yet he was also quite young, his short hair not rough but instead giving him a cool, refined look.

“Tsk, too much…” The burly erhu musician Pan Dapan showed no deference, openly criticizing.

The buzz cut glanced at him, his demeanor cool yet authoritative. “Summer insects cannot discuss ice.”

Pan Dapan fell silent, begrudgingly playing a few discordant notes on his erhu, deliberately making it sound like sawing wood.

“Come on, Young Boss of the Qing gang.” Yuan Yiqun asked, barely containing his laughter, “Red wine or cocktail?”

The buzz-cut man replied calmly, “Green tea.”

Unable to contain himself any longer, Yuan Yiqun called out to the justice-seeking underground worker, Tan Ying. “Quick, rid us of this evil!”

The group erupted into chaos but Ran Lin’s gaze was fixed on the two newcomers.

He recognized both of them.

One was Tian Mai, who had recently taken his photograph.

The other was…

“Long time no see,” Lu Yiyao greeted with a bright smile as the early spring blossoms.

Ran Lin mentally calculated that they had only been apart for a little over a month.

“You know each other?” The buzz-cut man, who had intended to ask Xia Xinran to introduce the newcomer, looked puzzled at Lu Yiyao.

Tian Mai explained, “These two just finished working on a drama together, they’re acquainted. Otherwise, do you think I could have invited God Lu here?”

Lu Yiyao sighed, shifting his gaze from Ran Lin to Tian Mai. “You’re mocking me, aren’t you?”

Tian Mai looked panicked. “Damn, you caught me.”

Lu Yiyao, slightly annoyed, gave him a nudge on the shoulder. “Hurry up and change into your tabloid journalist outfit.”

Tian Mai was puzzled. “Aren’t you changing too?”

Lu Yiyao: “I’ll go over in a bit.”

Tian Mai narrowed his eyes, his gaze shifting between Lu Yiyao and Ran Lin, but before he could make anything out, a high-pitched voice entered the room—

“Teacher Lu?!”

Before the words fully faded, Xia Xinran had rushed over like a gust of wind.

Lu Yiyao stepped back in surprise. “Is that…women’s clothing you’re wearing?”

Xia Xinran twirled his skirt, smiling radiantly. “How is it?”

Lu Yiyao instinctively looked at Ran Lin.

Ran Lin, having recovered from his initial shock, patted him on the shoulder reassuringly. “You can still run away now.”

Of course, Lu Yiyao didn’t run.

He had worked hard to find out Ran Lin’s recent whereabouts and couldn’t ask Xia Xinran directly, or else Ran Lin might have been forewarned and fled. Fortunately, he had worked with Tian Mai a few times, and they were on good terms. Plus, his reputation in the circle was solid, so Tian Mai was willing to extend the favor and bring a friend like him to the gathering, which added prestige.

However, Lu Yiyao hadn’t expected to encounter Peng Jingyu.

Peng Jingyu, the buzz-cut young gang boss, was the youngest son of the president of Yao Star Media Group. Though he had two older brothers, the three siblings were united, and the older brothers took good care of him, so he could afford to work and play. Yao Star Media didn’t sign artists, but they invested in movies and TV dramas, focusing on films. Many artists eagerly sought relationships with them. Because Huo Yuntao’s family was also involved in the entertainment industry, he had met Peng Jingyu a few times and initially thought of introducing him to Lu Yiyao as a networking opportunity. But Lu Yiyao had felt it was unnecessary and had let the matter slide.

With Peng Jingyu alone, the gathering was already prestigious enough.

Not to mention the presence of Su Mu, Yuan Yiqun, and others. Lu Yiyao hadn’t expected Xia Xinran to be such a help to Ran Lin.

“You’re too inconsiderate, Teacher Lu, not even a word before you came.” Xia Xinran glanced at him disapprovingly.

Lu Yiyao defended himself. “Then why didn’t you invite me when you invited Ran Lin.”

Xia Xinran was indignant. “How was I to know you’d come if I asked? You were so aloof back in the Drifting Story.”

Lu Yiyao was speechless.

Peng Jingyu laughed, patting Lu Yiyao’s back in a familiar manner. “Remember one thing: you can mess with women, but never mess with Xia Xinran.”

The “commended” Xia Xinran looked exasperated.

Designer Bi Ye came over, his tone still carrying a hint of the melodious operatic style. “Xia Fan, do you have any friends who aren’t good-looking? I’ve never seen you bring anyone who isn’t handsome.”

“Of course.” Xia Xinran retorted without hesitation. “I make friends based on personality, not superficial things like appearance. You know Gu Jie, right? He’s also my friend!”

Bi Ye and the others were speechless.

Ran Lin commented, “Gu Jie might not appreciate being categorized like that.”

As more people arrived, the atmosphere grew livelier, blurring the lines between old and new friends. Everyone was eating, drinking, and chatting merrily. Ran Lin sat among them, not feeling the need to strike up conversations deliberately and not feeling out of place either.

Xia Xinran went to change clothes again.

Yuan Yiqun, seemingly wary of leaving him alone, occasionally came over to chat, but seeing that Ran Lin was relaxed and open, he went off to attend to others.

It was the first time Ran Lin felt at ease in a gathering of his peers.

Before Lu Yiyao arrived, he had been anxious about how to blend in with this unfamiliar environment and make friends with so many people he was meeting for the first time. But once Lu Yiyao arrived, he suddenly felt grounded and composed.

He sipped on a Blue Hawaiian, enjoying the mood, when the sound of footsteps approached. Turning around, he found himself face-to-face with Lu Yiyao.

Ran Lin was taken aback.

Lu Yiyao had changed into a military uniform, looking tall and dashing with broad shoulders, neatly cinched waist, and a sidearm strap crossing his chest. His boots were polished, and the pants were tucked into the boot shafts. Beneath his military cap, even his peach blossom eyes took on a sharp and resolute look. His beautiful brows nearly level with the brim of the cap, barely visible, cold and profound.

“Hey, young student,” Lu Yiyao greeted lowly, with a teasing smile.

Ran Lin felt a bit dry-mouthed, unable to understand why a Republic-era party suddenly seemed like it was sliding into some kind of uniform play with Lu Yiyao’s arrival.

Luckily, Xia Xinran also reappeared, now in a dapper little suit, looking every bit the wealthy young master. He hurriedly asked Ran Lin, “How is it?”

Ran Lin gave a generous thumbs up. “Handsome.”

Lu Yiyao sighed. “You’re just lying to him.”

Xia Xinran raised an eyebrow. “Don’t think I’m afraid of you just because you have a gun!”

Lu Yiyao looked at him. “It’s not just handsome; it’s very handsome.”

Satisfied, Xia Xinran gave him a playful look. “Naughty.” He then grabbed a drink, took a big gulp, and asked, “Teacher Lu, what made you decide to come? Aren’t you incredibly busy lately?”

Lu Yiyao was about to reply when someone called for Xia Xinran. Xia Xinran, with no further ado, whisked away like the wind.

Finally, the place quieted down, and Lu Yiyao took a seat next to Ran Lin, casually crossing his legs in a manner that indeed resembled that of a warlord.

Ran Lin glanced at his military attire, then at his own student uniform, suddenly regretting not choosing one of the other more flamboyant options—they were worlds apart in terms of presence!

“You look good in that,” Lu Yiyao suddenly commented. “It suits you very well.”

The lights in the living room had dimmed at some point—not too dark but no longer brightly lit either, creating an ambiance conducive to conversation.

The dozen or so people were grouped here and there, some talking softly, others laughing or swearing, discussing gossip or confiding personal matters. Perhaps what was shared would be forgotten by the next day, but it was important to have a place and someone to confide in.

“You look great in that uniform,” Ran Lin replied honestly. “It really suits you.”

Lu Yiyao stared at him intently. “Does that mean you’re falling for me again?”

Ran Lin cocked his student cap to the side, straightforwardly retorting, “I was just being polite.”

Lu Yiyao was taken aback, half amused, half frustrated.

Ran Lin inwardly congratulated himself on his wit.

Meeting Lu Yiyao today was entirely unexpected; if he had known they would meet, not even Xia Xinran’s insistence would have made him come.

Yet, having encountered him, he felt a sense of relief that he could be there. The heart he had once assured would not develop anything further with this person was surprisingly calm, filled only with a sense of solidity and unconscious joy at seeing him again.

“How have you been recently?” Lu Yiyao asked more seriously after the joke.

“Just did a magazine shoot. You must have seen it.” Ran Lin remembered Lu Yiyao’s comment and smiled.

“What about after that?” Lu Yiyao continued to make conversation, not wanting to sit in silence. “Any work plans?”

Ran Lin didn’t want the conversation to dry up either, so he replied honestly, “There’s a script, but nothing’s confirmed yet.”

Lu Yiyao picked up on the fleeting look of disappointment on Ran Lin’s face and guessed, “Not looking good?”

Ran Lin shook his head, pausing before answering, “I was supposed to be the lead, but now it’s been changed to Han Ze. So I’m considering whether to take the second lead role.”

After a moment of thought, Lu Yiyao asked, “What’s the script?”

“<Chronicles of Winter>,” Ran Lin replied, looking at him. “Do you know it?”

Lu Yiyao seemed to recall something but couldn’t place it exactly.

“I know it, Yao Star Media invested in the film version,” Peng Jingyu, who had joined them unnoticed, commented from another armchair, holding a colorful drink in his hand.

Ran Lin glanced towards the bar, where Pan Dapan had put down his erhu and was now mixing drinks, surprisingly popular.

Lu Yiyao wasn’t concerned about the drinks but focused on <Chronicles of Winter>. “They’re making a film version too?”

Peng Jingyu nodded. “It’s set to start production early next year.”

Ran Lin was unaware of this information. Although he had started the topic, he now found himself merely listening.

Lu Yiyao asked him, “Is your studio investing in the TV series?”

Peng Jingyu shook his head. “It’s not a big IP, and the film is just a joint investment; we only have a small share.”

Understanding, Lu Yiyao turned to Ran Lin. “What do you think of the script?”

Peng Jingyu suddenly felt sidelined, his cool, handsome face stiffening. “So you’re just going to ignore me?”

Lu Yiyao was focused on helping Ran Lin, replying naturally, “The film and TV series are completely different scripts. You’re not involved in the TV series. How could I ask you?”

Finding himself at a loss for words, Peng Jingyu felt somewhat irked but eventually retorted, “Huo Yuntao said you’re particularly unlikeable, I thought he was just being modest.”

Lu Yiyao, knowing the mention of Huo Yuntao meant no real harm, deliberately glanced at Ran Lin before responding, “I’m actually quite likable.”

Ran Lin was perplexed, wondering what that look meant.

Peng Jingyu found the whole situation intriguing. “I’ve never met someone like you. Do you even want to make it in the industry?”

After pondering for a moment, Lu Yiyao replied thoughtfully, “I suppose so…”

Peng Jingyu felt the urge to make an international call to complain to Huo Yuntao.

Though his relationship with Huo Yuntao was average, he genuinely hoped the young master would come to his senses.

Lu Yiyao, however, suddenly caught on to what Peng Jingyu had said about Huo Yuntao mentioning him. “He talked about me to you?”

Peng Jingyu rolled his eyes. “I talk to him maybe twice a year, and every time he’s praising you, making me feel like I owe him for not helping you.”

Lu Yiyao was momentarily embarrassed but inwardly warmed by the thought that Huo Yuntao was still concerned about his acting career from afar.

Ran Lin, however, was unfamiliar with the name they kept mentioning, deducing from their conversation that he was a mutual friend and possibly closer to Lu Yiyao.

Lu Yiyao having friends was normal; after all, he wasn’t a lone star. But perhaps because Lu Yiyao had always emphasized how rare it was to find someone in the circle he clicked with, Ran Lin had subconsciously blurred the line of “circle of friends”, inadvertently elevating his own position in his mind.

Lost in thought, Ran Lin was suddenly drawn back by Lu Yiyao pulling him closer with one arm, overhearing him say to Peng Jingyu, “Now that we’ve bypassed Huo Yuntao and become face-to-face friends, a friend’s friend is a friend. If you can’t look after me in the future, at least take care of Ran Lin.”

Peng Jingyu, only a few years older at twenty-seven, had a young man’s temperament. He stared at Lu Yiyao speechlessly for a long while before finally managing to say, “Could you be a bit more subtle when making requests?”

Ran Lin hadn’t planned to interject, given Lu Yiyao’s connections, which allowed him to speak on a friendlier level with Peng Jingyu while he was relatively unknown.

But watching their unserious demeanor and recalling Xia Xinran’s advice to not worry about the rest and just treat each other as friends for a genuine friendship, he decided to raise an opposing hand. “No need to think so far ahead. If you really want to help me, can you start by analyzing my current situation?”

Peng Jingyu involuntarily furrowed his brows, not expecting Ran Lin to speak up. Instinctively, he had categorized Ran Lin with many other small celebrities trying to make connections. Despite the relationships with Xia Xinran and Lu Yiyao, friends of friends sometimes don’t necessarily need to become friends themselves, and the situation was different from that with Lu Yiyao.

If Lu Yiyao wanted to build a relationship with him, he would have done so much earlier, hence his willingness to be friends. But as for Ran Lin…

“Maybe I should just ask someone else,” Ran Lin muttered, regretting speaking up as he received no immediate response.

The words “ask someone else” oddly struck Peng Jingyu with a sense of humiliation, as if being underestimated.

“What did you just ask?” Peng Jingyu genuinely hadn’t heard clearly.

Lu Yiyao, disliking his tone, interjected, “Never mind. You do your thing. We’ll talk.”

Initially feeling slighted, Peng Jingyu felt almost expelled, thinking he might need to demand compensation from Huo Yuntao for his emotional distress.

Ran Lin noticed Peng Jingyu’s displeasure and repeated, “Whether to take the second lead role.”

Peng Jingyu looked at him intently. “You’re asking me, someone who invests in movies, to help you analyze whether you should take a second lead role… a career planning issue?”

Ran Lin blinked innocently, offering a way out. “Actually… you can refuse to answer.” Glancing at Lu Yiyao, he added, “I can ask Teacher Lu.”

Peng Jingyu felt frustrated, lacking any semblance of the calmness expected of a Qing gang boss. Loosening his collar button, he took a deep breath and slammed his hand on the coffee table. “Let’s hear the whole story.”

Ran Lin intended to share his situation with Lu Yiyao, not expecting Peng Jingyu to chime in. But, figuring it was better to address both, he laid out the whole situation.

Once Ran Lin finished, Peng Jingyu advised, “Go for it. Your current status doesn’t guarantee the role of the second lead every time. It’s common for leads to be snatched away; if you’re not popular enough, you’ll be bullied.”

Lu Yiyao felt like kicking him.

Peng Jingyu’s blunt truth was harsh, but strangely, Ran Lin felt calm internally, turning to Lu Yiyao. “Do you also think I should take the role?”

Lu Yiyao decisively replied, “Don’t take it.”

Peng Jingyu frowned. “Don’t let your emotions get in the way of giving him advice…”

“Actually, I’m also upset.” Ran Lin turned to Lu Yiyao, his calmness disrupted by the simple advice. “I want to refuse outright too, but I can’t afford to pass on opportunities so easily…”

“Do you trust me?” Lu Yiyao suddenly asked.

Ran Lin paused, responding more quickly than he could think, “Yes.”

Lu Yiyao then advised, “If you trust me, wait another four months. Once <Sword of Fallen Flowers> airs, you’ll be flooded with leading role offers. You’ll spend a long time picking. If you take this current offer, you’ll miss the prime opportunity.”

Ran Lin understood and was perplexed. “Where does this confidence come from?”

Lu Yiyao looked at him. “You.”

Peng Jingyu finished his drink in one gulp, looking towards Pan Dapan, who was busy mixing drinks. Catching each other’s eyes, Pan Dapan stopped and gave Peng Jingyu an encouraging rocker gesture.

Peng Jingyu relaxed, feeling a renewed sense of masculine solidarity and safety.


<<< || Table of Contents || >>>

Midnight Owl Ch53

Author: 颜凉雨 / Yan Liang Yu

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


Chapter 53: Hospital

On one side, a small flying carpet, under the cover of tree shadows, slowly drifted away from the villa.

Kuang Jinxin breathed a sigh of relief and sat down. He no longer had to exert his “charm” towards the opponent. However, there was something he still couldn’t figure out. “Captain, when you chose to use [Kong Rong Giving Up Pears], why did you pick Han Buting to use it on?”

The use of [Kong Rong Giving Up Pears] was a voluntary move by Kuang Jinxin, but after its use, the feedback from the stationery was that one must first select a person to open up that person’s [Stationery Box] for potential theft.

With all the contents of the [Stationery Box] unknown, Xu Wang almost didn’t hesitate before asking him to choose Han Buting, which led to the subsequent [Cupid’s Arrow] winning move.

“I saw the destroyed drone gun in the dining hall.” Xu Wang didn’t beat around the bush. “Yesterday’s drone gun was destroyed by us in the amusement park. Unless they have two identical weapons, their save point must definitely be before the amusement park.”

Kuang Jinxin had no intention of following up, waiting blankly for what came next.

Xu Wang slapped his forehead, almost forgetting that yesterday, during the battle with Han Buting, Classmate Kuang had already been knocked unconscious by the wine pool.

“Did he use this [Cupid’s Arrow] yesterday?” A lightbulb went off for Kuang Jinxin as he figured it out himself.

Xu Wang looked at him with surprise. “You’re improving.”

Kuang Jinxin smiled shyly, but he still had doubts in his heart. “What if he had used this illusory stationery early today as well?”

“I was also taking a gamble,” Xu Wang said. “His attitude towards stationery is like how Lao Qian is with money—if he can use a dime, he definitely won’t use a dollar. With something as powerful as [Cupid’s Arrow], the way he looked pained using it yesterday, having it back today, he would definitely be more cautious.”

Qian Ai felt like he was being shot while sitting on the small flying carpet.

Kuang Jinxin was greatly inspired, his admiration for the captain rising to another level. “Captain, you’re too shrewd in understanding people. I can’t think of anyone who could escape your laser eyes!”

Xu Wang: “……”

Praise from Classmate Kuang was always genuine and heartfelt yet imagining it left one at a loss for words.

“If their save point was before the amusement park…” Qian Ai raised a question. “How did they manage to be faster than us today?”

“They must have used some stationery,” Wu Sheng said. “Teleportation, or something else.”

“It could also be that they suddenly discovered a teleportation NPC.” Xu Wang let his imagination run wild. “Anyway, encountering anything here wouldn’t surprise me anymore.”

A waning moon hung in the sky.

The night was pitch black.

The Arabian-style small flying carpet, carrying four fully armed companions, slowly drifted into the hospital gate.

A building, if abandoned, would naturally carry a sense of horror under the night sky. If that building happened to be a hospital, congratulations! You’ve got yourself a luxury horror experience package.

The four companions were feeling exactly that.

Broken windows, bloodstained walls, a messy green area—the hospital outpatient building devoid of any light stood silently in the dim moonlight. Even the sobbing of the night wind sounded like ghosts laughing from the underworld.

This was a comprehensive hospital. Behind the outpatient building, there were other buildings.

Xu Wang didn’t dare to approach rashly but looked around before directing the flying carpet to the tree on the right. Under the moonlight, one could vaguely see a hospital floor plan standing there.

As soon as the flying carpet reached the tree, a dark figure suddenly sprang out, grabbed the corner of the carpet, and pulled it down forcefully!

Xu Wang’s flying carpet could only maintain a height slightly above a person, and it wasn’t fast, which allowed the zombie to pull it down, tilting the entire carpet!

Qian Ai slid towards the end of the carpet, using his weight and momentum to kick the zombie away!

The zombie rolled several times on the ground before getting up, hesitated for two seconds, and then disappeared into the darkness like a flash.

Qian Ai was confused. “Did it… run away?”

“It looks like it.” Kuang Jinxin, still unsettled, hurriedly picked up the rocket launcher he had dropped. This time, he held it firmly.

“Avoiding harm and seeking benefit.” Wu Sheng looked towards the dark hospital building. “The zombies here have developed biological instincts.”

“Wait, aren’t real zombies supposed to just charge forward mindlessly?” Qian Ai found it hard to accept. “I’ve never seen zombies that are afraid of death or pain.”

Wu Sheng looked at him. “You said it yourself. Those are real zombies.”

Qian Ai: “……”

Alright, what they were about to face were all a bunch of gangsters.

Clearly, the cute little flying carpet was no longer suitable for the upcoming battle. Wu Sheng thought about asking Xu Wang to put it away but found him intently staring at the hospital floor plan.

No wonder he hadn’t heard the usually talkative captain contribute to the earlier discussion about the seriousness of zombies.

“What did you find?” Wu Sheng asked, coming up to the floor plan.

Xu Wang didn’t look at him but instead pointed to a spot on the floor plan.

This was a comprehensive hospital, with several specialized buildings and an L-shaped inpatient department behind the outpatient building. The spot Xu Wang pointed to was one of these specialized buildings—the Infectious Disease Building.

Wu Sheng understood and agreed with his judgment. “The NPC with the vaccine is likely there.”

The zombie virus was a communicable disease; there was no better fit than the Infectious Disease department.

With their route determined, they were ready to proceed at high speed, but Wu Sheng noticed Xu Wang showed no sign of moving, still staring fixedly at the floor plan. However, his gaze was becoming increasingly unfocused, as if drifting to an unknown time and space.

Wu Sheng became anxious and nudged his shoulder. “Are you okay?”

Xu Wang snapped back to reality, turning his head, but his eyes still held a trace of their previous distant look.

“What’s wrong with you?” Wu Sheng asked, growing worried.

Xu Wang frowned in confusion. “I feel like I’ve been here before…”

Wu Sheng was stunned, not expecting such a mystical development.

Qian Ai and Kuang Jinxin joined them, hearing this statement. Qian Ai immediately said in a carefree manner, “It’s normal. Many people feel like they’ve been somewhere before on their first visit. It’s just a momentary illusion.”

Kuang Jinxin: “There’s also a theory that you visited this place in a past life, so when you come again in this life, you might have flashbacks of past memories.”

Qian Ai: “In such a creepy place, could you not add to the superstitious atmosphere…”

“I really feel like I’ve seen this floor plan somewhere before,” Xu Wang said, glancing at it again.

Qian Ai pointed out. “Any hospital of some size puts up a floor plan at the entrance. Not just hospitals, but malls and tourist areas do the same. It’s not strange to have an impression.”

Seeing the captain still seemed unconvinced, Qian Ai decided to find reinforcements. Kuang Jinxin, engrossed in past life theories, was of no use and would only add to the creepiness. In times like these, they needed the rationality of their advisor.

Wu Sheng: “Can you remember when or where you saw it?”

Qian Ai: “……”

Great, they were seriously discussing it now.

“I can’t remember.” Xu Wang was also anxious, but the more he thought, the less he could recall. “Forget it. Maybe it’s just an illusion like Qian Ai said.” He looked towards the direction of the Infectious Disease Building, his focus returning. “Let’s just finish our submission, and then we’ll talk.”

The low-flying carpet wasn’t suitable for hand-to-hand combat, so Xu Wang deactivated its effect, and the four proceeded on foot, carefully bypassing the outpatient building.

The Infectious Disease Building was a three-story structure, less imposing than the outpatient building and not particularly standout among a row of specialized buildings.

Like all the buildings in the hospital, it was devoid of any light. Each window looked like a dark hole—sinister, oppressive, and lifeless.

The main entrance was wide open, like a monster’s mouth ready to swallow everything.

Xu Wang led the way, followed closely by Wu Sheng, with Kuang Jinxin in the middle and Qian Ai bringing up the rear. The four companions lined up in a straight line, hugging the wall, and slipped into the Infectious Disease Building like eels.

The moment they entered, a four-in-one “ding” sounded, causing a slight echo in the narrow front hall. It was like someone had struck a triangle in the quiet night.

[Cheat Sheet]: You have successfully entered the [Infectious Disease Building]. Please deliver the vaccine to [3F – Epidemic Research Lab].

Their hanging hearts settled; this was indeed the place.

The building’s layout was simple. Besides the front hall, there were only narrow corridors, with various departments on either side. There seemed to be no elevator, just a staircase in the middle of each corridor.

The corridors were eerily quiet, with no sign of zombies. Only the cold moonlight streaming through the windows casting shadows on the floor.

“Left or right?” Qian Ai whispered.

Men left, women right*, ladies first.” Xu Wang took a deep breath and looked to the right. “Let’s go this way.”

*This is a custom in ancient China, mainly reflected in tombs and formal occasions. China has traditionally respected the left, but due to the patriarchal system of ancient times, the tradition of men on the left and women on the right gradually formed.

Qian Ai: “……”

Following the captain’s thought process was challenging.

The corridor was long, with offices on both sides—at least a dozen or twenty of them—each door tightly shut, giving off a “keep out” vibe.

Their footsteps were almost soundless as they approached the staircase, just three offices away.

In the silent air, a “click” sounded.

Xu Wang hesitated momentarily, undecided whether to “stay put and observe” or “rush to the staircase”. In that instant, the middle door of the three offices opened.

A handsome male doctor in a white coat and glasses stepped out elegantly.

He casually closed the door, seemingly intending to leave the building, and then turned to face the four directly.

His skin was fair, his face clean, his hair neat, and his features handsome.

Well, except for his eyes, which could not be counted as normal, for they lacked pupils, showing only white with a faint red tinge.

“Four against one, we have a chance, right?” Qian Ai swallowed, muttering under his breath.

Xu Wang’s throat felt dry. He always had a fear of characters with only white in their eyes in horror movies. “We should have a chance…”

Qian Ai: “……”

The captain’s confidence seemed even more shaky.

The zombie doctor scrutinized them for two seconds before leisurely walking towards them, looking as if he intended to make friends.

That is, until he licked his lips.

Qian Ai recognized that expression; it’s the look he would have, readying himself for a feast, just before he started eating.

“Lao Qian.” Wu Sheng warned in a low voice.

Qian Ai: “Mm.”

“Zzzz—” The chainsaw buzzed to life.

Compared to a rocket launcher or the Lightning Gun, his chainsaw was relatively quiet. It was a strategy they had agreed upon before, to minimize the noise of battle unless the situation was urgent.

The doctor zombie maintained his pace, soon approaching within a few steps. The four companions had already rearranged their formation, with Wu Sheng and Xu Wang retreating to the wings and Qian Ai in the lead, forming a 121 formation.

As the zombie doctor entered within two meters, Qian Ai suddenly started his chainsaw and swung it at the doctor!

The zombie doctor leaned back and, surprisingly, dodged the attack!

But Qian Ai wasn’t one to give up easily. He stepped forward and swung back in a reverse cut!

The zombie doctor, still unsteady, should have been unable to dodge, but he twisted his body in an extremely contorted angle and managed to avoid 80% of the saw blade.

However, the remaining 20% still sliced through a third of his neck.

Consequently, his head tilted awkwardly to one side, making him look quite comical. The wound on his neck widened due to the tilt, gushing blood.

Despite this, the zombie doctor continued to approach them, staggering and now wearing what seemed to be a smile on his face, if it could be called that.

His mouth was twisted into a sinister, eerie curve.

Qian Ai instinctively stepped back, feeling nauseous and horrified.

At this stage, he was only accustomed to battles where a single saw strike was lethal. This half-dead state was more than he could handle.

Not just him, but the other three companions had also never seen anything like this and were momentarily stunned.

“Click.”

“Click.”

“Click.”

“Click.”

“Click”…

The sound of numerous door handles being pressed down echoed simultaneously in the corridor. It wasn’t just from their chosen right corridor but also from the distant left corridor, filled with the sound of doors opening!

The four companions instantly formed a back-to-back formation, ready to face threats from all directions.

The beings who emerged from the doors didn’t keep them guessing. They stepped out from their offices and stood at the doorways, lined up like soldiers.

Male doctors, female doctors, young doctors, old doctors, all in white coats, all with the same white, pupilless eyes.

The handsome doctor suddenly stopped advancing, seemingly losing interest in approaching them, and turned his partially severed neck towards the moonlight outside the window.

A few seconds later, the handsome doctor let out a mournful howl.

The corridor instantly went into a frenzied mode, with all the emerged doctors madly running towards the four!

The companions’ minds exploded with shock; their morale instantly shattered. Was this doctor some kind of hospital heartthrob with his own fan club of zombies?

Xu Wang couldn’t worry about the chaos anymore and shot the zombie doctor in the face!

The zombie doctor, as if burned, immediately covered his cheek and leaped back, but was then knocked down by other zombies rushing from behind!

Kuang Jinxin quickly fired a rocket launcher to both sides!

“Bang—”

“Bang—”

The explosive bombs detonated in the corridors, blasting away a quarter of the frontline zombies on each side. Especially on the right side, even the handsome doctor was blown away, finally giving the team a moment to breathe!

But the narrow corridor meant that the zombies at the front shielded those behind. Amidst the smoke and debris, countless zombies were stepping over their fallen comrades to advance!

“No more bombs!” Kuang Jinxin, holding an empty rocket launcher, was frantic.

“We’re getting surrounded!” Qian Ai was despairing. “Even if I blunt my saw, I can’t cut through so many zombies!”

Wu Sheng had no hope for his screwdriver. Since seeing the handsome zombie doctor, he had been contemplating using a weapon.

The only stationeries left usable were his [Cloak of Invisibility] and [The Flood Overwhelms the Dragon King’s Temple] along with Qian Ai’s [Swish Swish Hidden Blade]. But the original plan was to save these for critical moments.

The vaccine handover was on 3F, and they were still on 1F. If they used up their stationeries here, what would they do upstairs?

They had no choice but to adapt as the situation developed.

Wu Sheng had just decided to open his stationery box when a loud noise suddenly echoed in his ears.

“Bang—”

Amidst the lingering smoke, Xu Wang kicked open a door nearby!

“Everyone, get in!” Xu Wang rushed in first.

Wu Sheng, Kuang Jinxin, and Qian Ai quickly followed.

Once the last companion was in, Xu Wang immediately closed the door. “Lao Qian, come help!”

The door lock was broken by Xu Wang’s kick. Hearing his call, Qian Ai immediately joined him, exerting all his strength to hold the door together with Xu Wang!

As Qian Ai and Xu Wang took their positions, Wu Sheng and Kuang Jinxin were already pushing a metal cabinet towards the door.

There were six metal cabinets in total, two meters tall and spanning seven to eight meters in width when combined. Wu Sheng and Kuang Jinxin pushed one over, laying it horizontally, just as the zombies began to pry the door open a few inches!

The four men pushed the door back and used the cabinet to blockade it, then Kuang Jinxin stayed to help hold the door while Wu Sheng went to push the second, third, fourth cabinets…

Finally, all six cabinets were blocking the door. The zombies outside were still restless but unable to break in.

Wu Sheng let out a long breath, exhausted to the point of collapse.

Xu Wang, Qian Ai, and Kuang Jinxin were no better off.

It wasn’t just physical exhaustion but also the mental strain of high-intensity tension.

“In critical moments, we still rely on the captain,” Qian Ai sincerely remarked. “Lucky you had the wit to… Huh? Where is he?”

Expecting Xu Wang to be nearby, he looked up to find the captain had already walked deeper into the room.

This was a storage room, now looking quite empty since they had pushed all the storage cabinets to the door. Although it was a storage room, it was very clean, with hardly anything on the floor. Now, only a few items lay scattered around, things like folders and pennants that had fallen out of the boxes while they were pushing the cabinets.

Xu Wang was now squatting at the far end of the room, staring at a pennant on the floor.

Qian Ai was about to ask when Wu Sheng approached, swallowing his question and wisely giving space for the leadership to communicate.

Turning around, he started to hassle Kuang Jinxin. “You’re out of bombs. What now?”

“I don’t know,” Kuang Jinxin, still catching his breath with a flushed face, replied calmly.

Qian Ai was speechless. “You’re out of weapons, and you’re not even anxious!”

“We have the captain and the advisor.” Kuang Jinxin grinned, his eyes full of absolute trust. “And you.”

Qian Ai was dazzled by the smile, feeling like someone was applying alcohol on his heart, which always wanted to flee at the first sign of trouble.

“Here.” Qian Ai handed his chainsaw to Kuang Jinxin.

But it was pushed back. “What will you do without it?”

Qian Ai rolled his eyes. “I still have weapons, remember?”

Kuang Jinxin: “……”

Qian Ai: “Don’t be embarrassed. We’re teammates. I…”

Kuang Jinxin: “I’m sorry.”

Qian Ai: “Huh?”

Kuang Jinxin: “I shouldn’t make excuses. The truth is, I just don’t want to use the chainsaw. It’s too bloody for me. I can’t do it.”

Qian Ai: “……”

Kuang Jinxin: “Ah, I don’t mean you’re bloody. You look really cool with the saw!”

Qian Ai: “Totally unconvincing. I’m heartbroken now. Bye.”

Kuang Jinxin: “Lao Qian…”

Every streamer has the heart of a little princess.


<<< || Table of Contents || >>>

Midnight Owl Ch52

Author: 颜凉雨 / Yan Liang Yu

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


Chapter 52: Crossover Battle

The four companions exchanged glances, and the next second, they quickly ran to the corner of the courtyard and hid behind a hedge. Their actions for survival were so swift, and their choice of hiding spot was so in sync, it was like they were a dream team.

Fortunately, the simultaneous “dings” from their devices didn’t sound very loud outdoors, and the noise inside the villa was even louder, so this unexpected alert didn’t give them away.

After observing for a few seconds and confirming safety, the companions looked down at their messages.

[Cheat Sheet]: Welcome to [Villa Crossover Battle]. You have 15 minutes to cross the villa’s entrance hall, corridor, dining room, and living room and reach the back door to leave at leisure. Succeed, and the hospital welcomes you. Fail, and return to where you started tonight. Good luck.

Sheng, Wang, Jin, Qian: “……”

In the Sunshine Theatre, Yue Shuai’s team had been dominated by the terror of 59 points as well as the chance to taste the “joy” of a sea of zombie balls. =_=

Wu Sheng: “We have 14 minutes and 39 seconds left.”

Not short of a tremble after ninety-nine bows*.” Xu Wang took a deep breath. “Let’s go in.”

*It’s a saying that derives from the act of doing a ritual (99 bows), and the only thing left to do is to complete it (with a tremble). It’s akin to phrases like “we’ve come this far” or “just short of [blank] (to complete this)”.

Qian Ai: “……”

Even in the apocalypse, can’t we just fight zombies simply! The “Owl” is a devil! TAT

The four reached the villa’s entrance, holding their breath as they entered one by one, treading lightly.

Inside, two zombie corpses lay in the entrance hall, one with a blown-off head; its original appearance was unrecognizable, and another with eyes pierced through.

Carefully stepping over them, they entered the long corridor.

The retro European wallpaper and dim yellow wall lights made the entire corridor, despite being well-lit, still feel dark and oppressive. The abundant bloodstains on the walls significantly contributed to the atmosphere. The corridor was lavishly decorated yet gloomy and winding, resembling that of a path to hell.

At the end of the corridor, they saw the dining room.

Xu Wang, leading the way, suddenly stopped, not daring to move forward. The three behind him also saw the scene in the dining room and were shocked.

This wasn’t a dining room, but more like a morgue. Overturned tables and chairs, a floor covered with zombie corpses, piled high, leaving almost no space to step. A collapsed wine cabinet was pressed under the pile of bodies. There was no sign of its wreckage; only the rich aroma of broken wine bottles mixed with the stronger smell of blood, creating a suffocating atmosphere.

Xu Wang looked back at his companions with a solemn gaze.

Everyone understood.

All the zombies in the villa were annihilated. If the team that did it had left, they could reap the benefits. But the situation was that not only had this team arrived before them, but they were also exceptionally brutal in combat, and damn it, they hadn’t left!

What must the living room look like to have such a team still struggling until now?

Xu Wang was startled when he noticed something familiar on a zombie corpse.

Though its rotor blades were damaged and its body and gun barrel split in two, the remains were there—enough to piece together a complete drone machine gun!

“We’re not giving up until the end. Don’t forget, we entered three minutes later than you. Even if we drag it out, once your 15 minutes are up, you’re back to the save point, and all effects inside the villa are forcibly nullified. We still have 180 seconds. Even a stroll will get us out…”

The fighting in the living room had stopped at some point, and a familiar voice came from there, straight into the dining room, then curving around the corner wall where the corridor met the dining room.

Xu Wang narrowed his eyes. This confident ease, this disdainful habit of underestimating the opponent—except for that [Cupid’s Arrow], no one else came to mind!

Sure enough, Cupid’s team had also saved, and their save point was definitely before the chaos at the amusement park.

So the drone machine gun, already blasted by Kuang Jinxin, was usable today.

If the gun was usable, then their stationery…

Damn, he didn’t want to get hit by [Cupid’s Arrow] again in his life!

Wait, who’s Cupid talking to? Is there another team in the living room?

Just as Xu Wang pondered, another familiar voice came from the living room. “Don’t be so sure. It’s not certain who will have the last laugh until the final minute.”

Hold up!

Is that Yue Shuai I know? Is this towering leader’s aura amplified by some magical tool?

Xu Wang made a “shush” gesture to his companions and pointed towards the wall connecting the dining room and living room.

The three companions, also understanding the situation in the living room, nodded.

The group, acting like thieves since entering the villa, crouched again, tiptoeing through the gaps in the piles of corpses, quietly sneaking into the dining room, and reached the corner wall next to the living room.

Between the dining room and living room wasn’t a door, but a partition-like wall.

At that moment, eight eyes stealthily peered over the wall’s edge.

Inside the living room, the view was unobstructed.

All the furniture had been pushed to the east and west sides of the room. Two teams, eight “old friends”, were lined up along the walls. There were no zombie corpses in the living room because, apart from the narrow strips of floor remaining along the east and west walls, the entire floor of the living room had turned into a square pool of stagnant water.

But the pool was certainly not filled with ordinary water.

Because the back door was on the north wall, if they couldn’t walk over, they could swim across, yet no one dared to enter the water.

Captain Cupid said, “After your 15 minutes are up, you’ll go straight back to the save point, and all stationery effects will be forcibly nullified.” Obviously, this pool of dead water was Yue Shuai’s doing.

However, this stationery seemed to not discriminate between friend and foe, treating everyone equally and leading both teams to avoid the water’s edge as much as possible.

On the east side of the living room, Han Buting stood on a TV cabinet, Li Zijin and Li Xia stood on a sofa, and Chi Yingxue was perched on a large sculpture of a spreading-winged Roc, unsure how long the Roc would hold up.

On the west side, Yue Shuai stood on a coffee table, which was the only thing relatively stable. Then there was Tao Anan, struggling to maintain balance on a folding screen, Wei Tianhang desperately clinging to a curtain, and Su Mingzhan hanging upside down from a crystal chandelier.

Saying earlier that the eight were divided on both sides was a bit imprecise, especially since Su Mingzhan alone dominated the airspace in the center of the living room. It was unclear how he got up there.

Although it was Yue Shuai’s team that used stationery to trap Cupid’s team, the situation clearly showed who had the upper hand.

The eight, too focused on the battlefield, didn’t notice the eyes peering over the partition.

Xu Wang and his companions quietly retreated to the dining room.

“A colorless, odorless, corrosive liquid,” Wu Sheng whispered, sharing his observations. “Similar to concentrated sulfuric acid.”

“So how do we get across?” Qian Ai, thinking of the scene in the living room, felt as if he was already being corroded and burned by the strong acid. “Can’t we just wait for their time to run out and then cross? We entered later than them.”

Wu Sheng shook his head. “First, we lose the initiative. Second, we lose our advantage.”

Qian Ai nodded, pretending to understand.

Xu Wang nodded, truly understanding. “Indeed, waiting means allowing one of their teams to get to the hospital first. We’d then have to follow, which is too passive. Moreover, with the battlefield cleared and both teams wearing each other down, we have the advantage of time and place. If we wait for the replacement zombie horde to return, we’ll surely be exposed, and all our advantages will be lost.”

Qian Ai looked up at the ceiling, finally understanding why he could never become a team leader.

“Replacement zombie horde?” Kuang Jinxin asked, puzzled.

Xu Wang said, “Listen carefully.”

Kuang Jinxin paused and listened, realizing the zombie howls outside the villa seemed to be getting closer.

“The zombies in this villa are probably replenished continuously,” Xu Wang explained. “Otherwise, the teams ahead would clear the way, making it easy for the teams behind.”

“We must act before the zombies are replenished.” Wu Sheng outlined the action plan. “Be proactive—swift and decisive.”

“The acid pool is manageable.” Xu Wang revealed his [Stationery Box]. “I have a small flying carpet.”

Wu Sheng: “……”

Qian Ai: “……”

Kuang Jinxin: “Captain, I think that’s called [Aladdin’s Magic Carpet].”

“It will definitely fly,” Xu Wang said. “Have you seen the flying carpet over the Endless Sea? I have a feeling it’s this one.”

Qian Ai: “Can stationery be repeated?”

Wu Sheng: “There’s no evidence it can’t be repeated. If it’s not forbidden, it’s allowed. We can try.”

Qian Ai: “The way you two talk, I’m getting nervous…”

“Of course, we still need a Plan B. If the magic carpet can’t fly…” Xu Wang looked expectantly at his teammate. “Lao Qian, you’ll use your [Swish Swish Hidden Blade] to cover our retreat.”

Qian Ai felt immense pressure in a flash. “Who gave you so much confidence in my combat abilities…”

“If the magic carpet really can fly, then there’s only one problem.” Xu Wang’s expression darkened. “They won’t just watch us fly over. If either of them has long-range weapons or stationery, we’ll be the first to return to the save point.”

Qian Ai understood. It was like crossing the safari park in a small cart, still in the wild animal area. =_=

“Then we’ll launch a surprise attack before using the flying carpet to cross the acid pool,” he said.

“The surprise attack is certain. The key is how to catch them all at once.” Xu Wang had been thinking of a way since earlier, his head aching with no solution in sight. If they couldn’t capture them all, the eight counterparts would surely fight back, and the outcome would be uncertain.

The stalemate between the two teams was just a brief respite after tiring from the previous fight, each calculating their next move.

In the struggle between the snipe and the clam, while the fisherman gains*. This was their only chance to seize the opportunity for a decisive strike.

*Idiom referring to while the main parties are engaged in their dispute, a cunning third party can seize the opportunity to gain an advantage or profit. It derives from a fable, which you can read in my Kinky Thoughts.

Qian Ai’s [Swish Swish Hidden Blade]? Wu Sheng’s [Invisibility Cloak]? [The Flood Overwhelms the Dragon King’s Temple]? Xiao Kuang’s…

Xu Wang hadn’t yet figured out what stationery Kuang Jinxin had when he caught a glimpse of Classmate Kuang’s clear gaze.

Suddenly, realizing that Kuang Jinxin had been unusually quiet since they started planning the surprise attack, Xu Wang looked at him earnestly. “There can only be one team to submit their papers. As the team captain, I don’t want to retreat, so I can’t always be open and honest when there’s no other way.”

Kuang Jinxin was surprised. He quickly shook his head and said softly but firmly, “This is a competition. Giving our all is the greatest respect we can show our opponents.”

“…” Overwhelmed by the unexpected support, Xu Wang’s heart swelled with emotion. “Then why were you staring at me just now…”

“I was thinking…” Kuang Jinxin lowered his head to look at his [Stationery Box]. “What kind of magical tool would be named [Kong Rong Giving Up Pears]?”

……

Living Room.

Han Buting looked at Yue Shuai on the coffee table across from him, his patience nearly exhausted. “I don’t want to waste stationery needlessly. Why do people like you keep pestering me?”

Yue Shuai was actually out of moves. Waiting until now was just to see if another team would come in and disrupt the situation, hoping for a slim chance of survival.

But he didn’t expect Han Buting to want a heart-to-heart.

Especially since the words were somewhat cryptic. “We… who?”

A shadow passed in Han Buting’s eyes, clearly not wanting to recall the past.

Li Xia didn’t even raise his eyes.

Li Zijin got closer. Seeing his captain’s face darken, he wisely kept quiet.

Chi Yingxue, bored riding the Roc, eagerly helped to clarify. “After you escaped yesterday, another team came to the amusement park and used up several of our great captain’s carefully nurtured stationery. Luckily, we had saved before that…” The words ‘great’ and ‘nurtured’ were tinged with subtle sarcasm. He seemed to savor the memory more as he spoke with a small, amused smile playing on his lips. “It was interesting.”

Yue Shuai could tell he genuinely found it amusing.

Which also meant Han Buting’s mood got even darker.

Despite being an opponent, at this moment, Yue Shuai felt an inexplicable sympathy for Captain Han.

But Captain Han wasn’t to be underestimated. Unmoved, he just coldly glanced at his watch and considerately reminded his opponents. “You have four minutes left.”

“Better listen to the zombies outside,” Wei Tianhang said, unable to bear it any longer as he slid down from the curtain, carefully stepping onto the narrow strip of floor along the wall. “It won’t take four minutes for a zombie horde to break in…”

“Wei Tianhang!” Su Mingzhan suddenly shouted from the chandelier.

Wei Tianhang shuddered in fright, glaring at the center of the ceiling. “Why are you shouting…”

Realizing his blunder, his retort stopped abruptly.

The last shred of hesitation in Han Buting’s eyes vanished as he tapped the owl symbol on his arm.

If not for the presence of the opponents, Wei Tianhang really wanted to slap himself! Reminding the other side about the incoming zombies was like forcing them to send his team back to the save point ahead of time!

Their stationery had already been used up in the previous fight. The reason they had held out until now was partly due to their bluff and partly because Han Buting always hoped to succeed with minimal loss.

Now, no matter how reluctant Han Buting was willing to part with it, he was determined to use his stationery.

[Owl: Someone has used [(Illusory) Kong Rong Giving Up Pears] on you~~]

The playful alert rang out, not in Yue Shuai’s team’s ears but in Han Buting’s, who was about to select a weapon.

He instinctively looked up, his sharp gaze sweeping across the four people on the opposite side.

Yue Shuai and his teammates were bewildered. Suddenly being glared at during stationery selection—what kind of tactic was that? A display of dominance?

Han Buting quickly realized. “There’s another team here!”

Hearing this, Li Zijin and Li Xia immediately went on alert, warily scanning their surroundings.

Even Chi Yingxue paused slightly, although he remained lazily perched on the Roc, the casual look in his eyes slowly fading.

Just as Han Buting was about to give further instructions, he suddenly felt something was off.

An icon was missing from his [Stationery Box], one that had only just returned today after he reloaded his save.

In [Kong Rong Giving Up Pears], Kong Rong willingly gave the bigger pear to his brother. Now, the brother was directly coming over and stealing the biggest, sweetest, and most attractive pear!

Han Buting wasn’t happy with how he was played by Kong Rong.

But such is life; never assume things can’t get worse.

[Owl: Someone has used [(Illusory) Cupid’s Arrow] on you~~]

This time, all eight present heard the soulful alert.

Then, a chubby little angel appeared in the air a little to the left of the center of the ceiling, since the center was occupied by the chandelier and Su Mingzhan. Holding a little golden bow, the angel spun around and started shooting little golden arrows.

The arrows, like osmanthus rain, struck each of the eight combatants in the heart.

Li Xia, Li Zijin, and Chi Yingxue simultaneously looked at Han Buting, the first two in disbelief, the latter bemused.

Han Buting nearly gritted his teeth in frustration. “They stole my illusory stationery.”

“Can you stop speaking in tongues?” An even more bewildered Yue Shuai couldn’t take it anymore, clutching his throbbing chest. “What do you mean, another team? Who stole your illusory stationery? What the hell is going on? Are you… trying to provoke us!”

As the situation was about to spiral out of control, a small flying carpet gracefully floated into the living room.

The eight fighters froze, understanding dawning in the moment they were struck by love.

On the Arabian-patterned carpet sat three teammates in a row, as orderly as schoolchildren on a spring outing. Only Kuang Jinxin stood at the end of the carpet, looking left and right, his gaze sweeping over everyone with a “lethal attraction”.

The carpet floated leisurely over the sulfuric acid pool, heading straight for the door.

The upright Captain Xu occasionally smiled apologetically to the left and right. “Sorry, sorry, we’re leaving first.”

Yue Shuai, Su Mingzhan, Tao Anan, Wei Tianhang: “……”

Han Buting, Li Xia: “……”

Chi Yingxue: “A flying carpet… How come they always have such cool stationery…”

Li Zijin: “Is now really the time to be envious?!”

They wanted to attack Kuang Jinxin, but each time the thought crossed their minds, they would become lost in overwhelming feelings of love.

They thought about attacking the other three, but every glance from Kuang Jinxin plunged them back into those suffocating feelings of love, making it impossible to bear the thought of harming his teammates.

The magic carpet finally arrived in front of the back door.

The door automatically opened, as if acknowledging the victors.

As the carpet slowly departed, the door began to close.

The eight watched as the gap in the door narrowed, and just as it was about 30 degrees from closing, two heads provocatively popped back outside the door.

There was Kuang Jinxin, still dominating the room with his gaze, playing a support role. Leveraging the cover provided by his teammates, Captain Xu and his colleagues dug their hearts out. “I can’t let you catch up. Otherwise, we’ll have to fight at the hospital. Sorry about this…”

Han Buting didn’t immediately understand, raising an eyebrow in confusion.

Yue Shuai, seeing the gun barrel extend through the gap, despaired. “Oh no…”

The trigger was pulled, and a fierce stream of water shot through the living room, hitting a wall clock!

The door was held open by the force. The trigger remained pulled, and an endless water stream kept coming—one second, five seconds, ten seconds…

Deafeningly loud dynamic music erupted in the living room, almost lifting the villa’s roof and stirring the hearts of every zombie at the courtyard gate!

“Ow ow ow ow ow~~It’s below ten degrees~~ I forgot to wear my long johns~~ Rushing out the door~~ Walking on the main road~~”

“Not wearing long johns~~ Who can be cooler than me~~ Let the wild wind howl~~ even wildfires can be blocked~~*”

*These are lyrics to “Forgot to Wear Long Johns” by Hou Haozhong. Unfortunately, I can’t find the music to it.

The moment the zombies poured in, the back door slammed shut, perfectly sealed!

Yet they could still hear, fading away, “Qiu Qiu Qiu Qiu~~ Cool~~”

Doesn’t the “Owl” have a mute mode?!

As the horde of zombies surged into the living room, they fell into the acid pool with a clatter like dumplings. But a few managed to stop in time, realizing they had to seek the narrow strips of floor on either side!

In such a small space, a couple of hits and they’d all fall into the sulfuric acid pool!

No, they didn’t even need to fight; the first zombie had already toppled the folding screen, and Tao Anan was about to fall in!

Yue Shuai couldn’t care about anything else; he focused intently and dispelled the stationery effect!

The sulfuric acid pool vanished in an instant, and Tao Anan landed onto the floor with a thud, narrowly escaping disaster.

Han Buting and his team finally saw the acid pool disappear, but it was too late; the zombies had them cornered!

Yue Shuai’s team’s time had run out.

“Ding—”

[Cheat Sheet]: [Villa Crossover Battle] failed. Return to your starting point of the night.

Yue Shuai: “……”

Yesterday was the Sunshine Theatre, today the villa crossover; they must be fundamentally incompatible with these “game within a game”!

Yet, thinking of Xu Wang’s team crossing over, Yue Shuai felt a tinge of relief. If he had to choose, he would rather see Xu Wang breaking the finish line than Han Buting.

Regrettably, Han Buting’s team still had three minutes left. If they were agile enough, they might still break through successfully.

Amidst all his worries, Yue Shuai and his three teammates were instantly transported back to the Sunshine Theatre’s save point, where their challenge had begun that night.

His concerns weren’t unfounded; just two and a half minutes after their departure, Han Buting’s team had cleared all the zombies, calmly opened the door, and completed the villa crossover battle.

However, one thing neither Yue Shuai nor Han Buting had anticipated.

“Is there a rope?”

Stepping out of the villa, with the hospital just in sight, Chi Yingxue, who always lingered at the end of the team, suddenly spoke in a low voice.

When he spoke, his tone was often light and seemed careless. Once it dropped, it sounded calm, which was quite uncharacteristic of him.

“Yes.” Li Zijin, who was carrying a backpack, looked at him vigilantly. “What do you want to do?””

“I was bitten on the shoulder.” Chi Yingxue raised his eyes gently. “You’d better tie me up now, because in a while, I won’t be me anymore.””

There was no tension on his face, and his tone was light, but there was no joking in his words. It was him just stating the facts calmly.

It was so calm that Li Zi’s back became cold.

“Do as he says.” Han Buting didn’t step forward to confirm the wound because there was no need for Chi Yingxue to lie.

Li Zi almost swallowed his saliva, immediately removed his backpack, and pulled out the hemp rope inside. This was prepared for the bitten companions, because the condition for submitting the papers was that everyone bring the vaccine to the hospital together, but there was no requirement that they must be “healthy”, so once a teammate is bitten, they could just tie them up and drag them to the hospital and submit their papers for clearance. The bitten person would return to normal. They had been on this level many times, so they were quite prepared.

Chi Yingxue lowered his head and stood there motionless. His eyes gathered in the light and shadow of the lantern. The rare quietness made him look quite beautiful and ethereal at this moment.

Li Zijin shook his head abruptly, getting rid of his unrealistic illusion.

Pretty? Just wait until he goes crazy.

They had just circled the hemp rope once, but it hadn’t been tied yet when Chi Yingxue suddenly raised his head with a blank and surprised expression, as if saying, “Who am I? Where am I?”

Li Zijin was taken aback. “What are you doing?”

Chi Yingxue didn’t speak but quickly looked around and then at the three teammates.

Li Zijin was really panicked. He had only been with this new teammate for two days, and he couldn’t bear it. He looked back at Han Buting as if asking for help.

Han Buting frowned slightly and was also observing Chi Yingxue.

The first person to speak was the one who caused all this. “I was bitten, right?”

His voice was still very low, but it wasn’t the deliberate lowness of the previous one. It was more like an innate sense of lowness, but because Chi Yingxue’s voice wasn’t the magnetic low type, the conditions of the voice and the temperament of the voice produced a trace of dissociation.

Li Zijin was really going crazy. “Are you sick? Didn’t you tell us you were bitten?””

Chi Yingxue nodded, as if he understood again. “Sorry, you continue.”

Li Zi was almost dumbfounded. Chi Yingxue, apologized, to him?

“Hurry up.” Chi Yingxue urged, seeing Li Zijin stunned and motionless. “The incubation period of the zombie virus is only a few minutes at most. Once I get sick, it will be difficult to control me.””

Li Zijin: “……”

Although it was only a short sentence, it was well organized, concise, and pragmatic. Is this still the psychopath who pretends to fly on a pirate ship?!

“Fuck—”

Li Xia suddenly cursed, rushed over quickly, and threw Li Zijin down mercilessly!

At the same time, Chi Yingxue, who had just been tied up in a circle, was almost unbound again. He had already started biting the air in front of him!

If Li Xia hadn’t rushed over, it would be Li Zijin who would have gnawed on!

Li Zijin and Li Xia both got up quickly and retreated to Han Buting’s side. The three of them stood side by side, facing Chi Yingxue, who was already infected.

“It’s all my fault for moving too slowly!” Li Zijin hated himself for this.

“It’s not your problem.” Han Buting stared deeply at Chi Yingxue. “It’s his problem.”

Li Zi was almost speechless, but he only dared to complain in his heart. Of course, there was a problem. Chi Yingxue’s eyes were now covered with a red film, which was no different from the zombies in the north of the city!

As if expecting Li Zijin to groan, Han Buting further explained, “It has nothing to do with the zombie virus. I mean, he’s not right. But I don’t have time to worry about that now…” He stretched out his hand closer to Li Zi. “Give me the spare rope.”

Li Zijin immediately turned over the bag and handed it over.

They had countless ways to send Chi Yingxue home, but if they wanted to submit their papers, they could only catch them alive.

“Li Xia,” Han Buting said. “Seal his mouth.”

“Mm.” The silent young man who was named briefly responded, then put on his gloves and pulled out the hood and wide tape from his bag.

With the tools in place, the three of them scattered in a circle, surrounding Chi Yingxue in the middle.

Chi Yingxue looked at the three of them back and forth, as if choosing a target. When he saw the mask in Li Xia’s hand, he seemed to have a premonition of something. He suddenly started to dash towards Li Zi at a speed as if he was doing a 100-meter spring!

Li Zijin stood there motionless, as if waiting for Chi Yingxue to pounce!

In an instant, Chi Yingxue was already in front of him, and he was about to pounce on Li Zijin. The latter suddenly bent down and pushed his head hard against his stomach!

Under normal circumstances, people should stagger back uncontrollably, and Han Buting, behind Chi Yingxue, had already prepared the rope circle!

Without thinking about it, Chi Yingxue actually caught it and grabbed his shoulder at a very fast speed. Before Li Zijin could react, he lifted the person up and bit him hard at the carotid artery of his neck!

With this bite, there was no chance of mutation.

Li Zijin only had time to experience the tingling like a needle and then heard the banter of farewell—

[Owl: Dear~ I’m giving you an early holiday. Sending you home.]

At the last moment before bouncing back to reality, Li Zijin looked into Chi Yingxue’s eyes.

There was neither a zombie Chi Yingxue nor human Chi Yingxue. It was just an extremely dark abyss, that perhaps ghosts still resided there.


Kinky Thoughts:

The Sandpiper (Snipe) and the Clam

One day, taking advantage of the sunny weather, a clam opened up its hard shell to bask in the sun on the banks of the river. A sandpiper saw it and quickly put its beak into the clam shell to peck at the meat inside. The calm hurriedly closed its hard shell and sealed the sandpiper’s mouth shut. The sandpiper couldn’t peck at the meat, and its mouth was sealed shut, so it threatened the clam and said, “If you don’t loosen your clamp on me, you will eventually die of thirst.” The clam responded without showing weakness, “Your mouth has been clamped by me. If you can’t pull it free, you’ll starve to death!” In this way, the clam and sandpiper fought each other on the beach, and neither would relent. Over time, they became exhausted. A fisherman happened to pass by, and when he saw that they were tightly entangled and neither could move, he easily caught them and took them both home.”

This story was told during the Warring States Period, when the Qin Empire was strongest. On one occasion, the Empire of Zhao declared war on the State of Yan. At the time, the king’s younger brother, Su Dai, was entrusted to go to the Empire of Zhao to persuade the King of Zhao not to send troops. When he arrived, the King of Zhao demanded what he was doing here, to which he told the fable.

After finishing, Su Dai said to the King of Zhao, “If the Empire of Zhao and the State of Yan go to war, the two sides will inevitably be at a standstill for a long time, eventually becoming exhausted. In this way, the mighty Qin Empire will be like the fisherman, who just needs to sit back and reap the benefits. Your Majesty, please consider it carefully before making a decision.” The King of Zhao felt that what Su Dai said was reasonable and dispelled the idea of attacking the State of Yan.


<<< || Table of Contents || >>>

Full Server First Kill Ch125

Author: 年终 / Nian Zhong

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


Chapter 125: Deadlock

Merely glancing at it, Nol felt as though he was struck by an invisible hammer, plummeting from mid-air to the ground. His head buzzed and his vision blurred like beaten egg drop soup, taking a while to regain focus.

In just that moment, Nol was certain that this was an opponent they couldn’t handle right now.

The oppression from the awakened Demon King was incomparably stronger than when it was asleep.

If he had to describe the feeling at that moment… It was like a newbie in a game accidentally entering the highest-level map and being lightly hit by the boss. That sense of despair, with damage exceeding the health bar by thousands of times, now bit down hard on Nol.

Ignoring the black-red blood flowing from his mouth and nose and the intense pain in his front claws, he struggled to his feet, hurling purification magic at the shadowy figures.

A brief vacuum appeared around Anakin, and in the next instant, the Mad Monk’s golden thread shot over.

The thread wrapped around Anakin’s wrist, pulling her towards the main group. Teest acted quickly, successfully pulling Anakin under the dragon’s claw, where Painter grabbed her clothes, clinging to Nol’s claw.

Nol immediately spread his wings, ready to fly away from the Demon King—although it seemed like an “isolated island”, the farther they were, the safer.

The giant dragon’s wings stirred up a wild wind. The shadowy figures raised their heads as dry branches and leaves easily passed through their bodies. Just as Nol was about to take off, his claw suddenly sank.

A huge shadow hand grabbed his hind claw, bringing indescribable cold and pain. Nol struggled, flapping his wings hard, his vision once again sweeping past the Demon King’s position—

The Demon King had vanished.

Nol’s heart skipped a beat. He lowered his body, and his gaze met the Demon King below. The creature extended a twisted arm, tightly gripping Nol’s hind claw, its six pale light spots spinning chaotically.

It had teleported there.

Seeing no escape from the Demon King, Nol suddenly exerted force, flinging the four people on him far away. Painter protected the still unconscious Anakin, Fischer adjusted his position in time, and the three landed steadily hundreds of meters away.

Teest, clinging to the dragon horn, stubbornly remained on the black dragon.

“Worthy of being the two gods’ adversary,” Teest said, looking down at the Demon King unconcernedly, blood flowing from his eyes, nose, and mouth.

He knew it!

Nol dissolved the flesh on his hind claw. The bones scattered, and he endured the pain of regeneration before flapping his wings again. The Demon King crawled out of the soil in an unimaginable posture, climbing up through the air.

Its six deformed arms opened wide, and its lower body was full of swollen black tumors. It hovered in mid-air, resembling a broken spider on an invisible web in the center.

The black dragon was almost enveloped in this deformed “embrace”, and compared to the gigantic Demon King, the Dracolich’s massive body seemed petite.

His nostrils were filled with the strong smell of the sea and decay. The corruption surged, and the temperature dropped so low that wounds started to freeze.

Nol’s head throbbed dizzily, realizing that losing his claws didn’t solve the problem—high-concentration corruption spread along his bones. The snow-white skeleton gradually turned black. The pain was like being flayed alive. Nol’s eyes darkened with agony, almost falling again.

Near the Demon King’s head, figures continuously emerged. They opened their arms, embracing Nol, seemingly having lost all interest in Anakin.

Damn it. Besides Anakin, there was another Earthling here—himself!

Nol tried his best to erect a protective shield, attempting to activate [To My Compatriots], but the Demon King showed no reaction.

Tap, tap.

Curiously, the Demon King bent a finger and tapped on Nol’s protective shield. Then, with a “crack,” the Demon King’s finger easily broke through Nol’s full-strength protection, as if piercing through a wet piece of paper.

The dry, black finger slowly pulled down, peeling away the shield layer by layer. Nol had felt this kind of despair before, but the power difference between him and the Demon King was far greater than a newbie facing Lich Valdorlock.

Now, Nol had to admit, Knight Eugene’s judgment was spot on; this reconnaissance was necessary.

The unique terrain of the Brick Mountains somewhat contained the spread of corruption. If the Demon King crossed the Brick Mountains, Nol couldn’t think of anyone who could stop it—with Earth Players spread across every country, the Demon King would have to traverse all the lands. And wherever it passed, only corruption, darkness, and death would remain.

They must quickly bring this information back, gather the elite forces near the Brick Mountains, and protect this natural fortress… The problem was, they needed to survive first to deliver the message.

Stay calm.

Ignoring the pain, Nol racked his brain. This was just an exploration. He could come up with a solution. There must be other ways…

In the cold corruption, he felt a bit of warmth on his forehead. Teest, having just wiped the blood off his face, casually patted the Dracolich’s head.

[This opponent is more interesting than the Eternalists. I haven’t felt this way in years.] Teest swallowed a mouthful of blood, grinning. [Let’s have some fun together, Lord Nol.]

Only the Mad Monk could turn the simple message of “I’m with you” into such a lengthy statement. Ignoring the severe pain in his claw, Nol wrapped them in layer upon layer of protective shields. [You’ve killed countless. Any inspiration?]

[I was just thinking, if those legends are true—the two gods joined forces against this thing, and now we two are up against it. It’s quite poignant.]

Wow, such a grand statement, as if they weren’t desperately fleeing for their lives—

Outside the shield, the Demon King twisted its shadow-like limbs, patiently unwrapping layer after layer of protection, like a five-year-old excitedly unwrapping zongzi. They didn’t have much time left to think of a plan.

[Speaking of which, I personally don’t have experience dealing with ‘gods’. But I don’t want to die here either. Save me, dear Lord Nol—]

Teest’s tone was soft and sweet, but the killing intent on his body was growing stronger. He stared unblinkingly at the gap in the shield while golden threads sparkled between his fingers.

Such a frivolous fellow. Nol almost wanted to laugh. The intense pain blurred his vision for a moment.

All his considered plans, ABCD, none had worked.

[To My Compatriots] had no effect on the Demon King, and Kando’s spatial movement was directly blocked. They were firmly trapped by the Demon King, and transfer magic was distorted.

All escape routes were blocked, but to stay and fight, their power was no match for the Demon King.

It was a matter of life and death. Facing the Demon King, the system should at least give him a task like [Seal the Demon King]. The system had always been active in matters related to the Demon King… Wait, the system?

Nol turned his bloodshot eyes, scanning the distorted terrain and the bizarre behavior of the shadows, and finally stopping at his front claw, injured by the strange wooden talisman.

The environment twisted by the Demon King was a power not belonging to this world.

They were invaders of this world.

…Invaders of Tahe.

Runes. As the Demon King’s hand drew closer, Nol tensed up. He burned away his injured front claw, turning the resultant magic power into a line.

[SE125839156]

The moment the pale blue characters formed, a burst of blue fire exploded, mixing with the noisy system notification echoing in Nol’s mind. It was blurry and distant, but definitely there—

[Emergency. High-performance firewall initiating. Special data freezing…]

[Freeze failed]

[Emergency. High-performance firewall initiating. Special data freezing…]

[Freeze failed]

[Emergency. High-performance firewall initiating. Special data freezing…]

[Freeze failed]

…..

Accompanied by a piercing sizzle, hundreds of semi-transparent blue pop-ups appeared in front of the Demon King’s palm.

The pop-ups had no writing, just a giant warning symbol in the center. Its colors were murky and constantly flickering, multiplying ceaselessly. The moment the Demon King’s dark fingertip touched the pop-up, a terrifying black spark flashed. It recoiled in pain, retreating slightly.

The pop-ups kept appearing around Nol, almost enveloping him completely. The wall of pop-ups diminished the Demon King’s oppressive aura slightly, giving Nol, dragging his two injured claws, a moment to breathe.

Before he could fully catch his breath, as if afraid that Nol would escape, the Demon King embraced him again recklessly. Black sparks ignited once more, this time seemingly without pain, forcibly piercing through the wall of pop-ups.

“Hey!”

Nol switched to Mandarin, shouting directly at the Demon King. “What exactly do you want? Did you send the message ‘Please kill me’?”

“Can you understand me? You—”

Hearing Nol’s call, the Demon King halted its movements, then suddenly intensified its actions. The pop-ups sliced through countless shadow fragments, but it pushed forward with all its might, wildly flailing its arms. Nol focused on controlling the “firewall”, not daring to make any superfluous movements.

Tiny black figures came from all directions, charging at the blue pop-ups and banging against them with their bodies.

[Emergency. High-performance firewall initiating. Special data freezing…]

[Freeze failed]

[Freeze failed]

[Freeze failed]

……

The system announcement continuously sounded, then suddenly, they all turned from normal blue to bright red, the edges flashing even more exaggeratedly.

[Warning. Operation ineffective. Overload. To avoid complete program collapse, protective program will restart in thirty seconds. 30, 29, 28…]

No good. The Demon King was almost touching their faces. If the defense collapsed at this moment, even if it was just a one-second restart, both he and Teest would be undoubtedly obliterated.

……

Several hundred meters away, Painter removed his hand from Anakin’s forehead.

His right arm had turned completely black, rotten as if it were a corpse left in the summer heat for ten days, with corruption crazily burrowing under his skin. A tourniquet was already tied around Painter’s shoulder, and he stood up, giving Fischer a look.

Fischer spat, and with a swipe of two fingers, a jet of black blood sprayed into the air as Painter’s arm was completely severed. The next second, Painter pressed the “Festival of New Green” onto the wound.

New bone, flesh, and skin grew at the severed site. The arm was healthy and strong, slightly lighter in color than the rest of his body, but otherwise normal.

For a living creature, the pain of limb regeneration was akin to being torn apart. Painter’s lips turned white from pain, and his face was covered in cold sweat.

“The Temple’s magic is still so dull,” Fischer said coldly. “With this ability, why didn’t you save a few people at the camp?”

“Those kids have been here too long and absorbed much corruption in their bodies. If I absorb their corruption, I might end up with nothing but a clean brain left.”

Painter flexed his newly grown arm, maintaining the powerful purification magic around them. “I think Sir Eugene would happily chop it off—guess what would happen if my head got chopped off?”

Fischer: “…You’d die?”

“Very smart!” Painter exclaimed.

Fischer’s facial muscles twitched, but he refrained from hitting this ace of purification. He ruthlessly summoned a ball of ice water and threw it at Anakin’s face. She coughed twice, waking up confused.

“Mom, dinner…” She called out in her mother tongue, puzzled.

“Awake?” Fischer asked with a cold tone. “Get up quickly. Without another purification class, we can’t even reach the front line.”

Anakin propped herself up, looking around. Her eyes slowly reddened. “…I knew it was a dream.”

“How’s the situation?” A few seconds later, she sniffled, wiping her eyes with her sleeve.

“Not good. Those two are surrounded.”

Fischer squinted through cursed vision, staring into the distance—he had tried looking directly at the Demon King, and just that glimpse made him lose a few seconds of sanity and cause his head to split with pain.

“In addition to the Demon King, those shadows are attacking… I don’t recognize that protective magic, but it looks like it’s about to fail.”

“I suggest we focus on self-preservation, not adding trouble for those two. It’s not a battle we can interfere with,” Fischer added somewhat despondently.

Before, he thought the two Popes of Life and Eternal were the pinnacle of combat power in the world, even capable of battling dragons. Now it seemed, the peak in his mind was just an insignificant mound.

“That’s a bit disappointing to hear.” Painter shook his head. “You can’t even match that one, and you don’t have the confidence to chase the Mad Monk?”

“I’m not good at fighting!” Fischer retorted. “I’m an observer… Wait a minute.”

He looked at Painter incredulously, fear creeping into his eyes. “You wouldn’t…”

“Exactly what you’re thinking, ‘Eye of the Storm’.”

Painter stroked his chin. “You bring the ‘Festival of New Green’ to those two, and Miss Anakin and I will jointly cast the top-tier [Kiss of the Goddess]. Using that gem as a medium, the effect should be excellent.”

“‘Eye of the Storm’ will only allow me to avoid some damage. I’m not immortal!” Fischer’s face turned ashen. “Besides, if we cast purification there, wouldn’t you two be defenseless…”

“The ‘Saint’ and ‘Flawless’ naturally have resistance. We can also avoid some damage. Of course, if we’re exposed for too long, we’ll definitely die.”

Painter sighed. “But I’m certain of one thing—if those two over there die, we definitely won’t survive. Isn’t it better to take a chance?”

Fischer’s face turned from green to white, silent for a full two minutes before grabbing Anakin’s wand.

“If it weren’t for my God…” he muttered through gritted teeth. “My God… ugh…”

The siren clutched the wand, cursing as he ran towards the center of the battlefield. Splashes of black shadow fragments flew past him but seemed to be blown away by an invisible wind, not touching him.

As soon as the “Festival of New Green” moved away, the surrounding area grew colder. As if countless invisible insects were biting at her skin, Anakin instinctively clenched her hands. Her originally fair skin gradually turned dark gray.

“I’m sorry, miss.” Painter turned to Anakin. His right hand hadn’t fully recovered and had exposed red muscles. “You were mentally unstable just now, and we’re short on time, so I took the liberty.”

“You’re… right.” Anakin’s voice still sounded dazed, but her hands were already prepared for casting. “We have no choice.”

Fischer staggered, struggling to avoid numerous black shadows, barely reaching Nol’s vicinity. He held up the large green gemstone, throwing it forcefully towards Teest on the dragon’s head.

A golden thread wrapped around the emerald, and Teest deftly caught the gemstone.

At the same time, Painter and Anakin, not far away, raised their right hands, chanting complex spells in unison. Having completed his task, Fischer didn’t stay put. He hugged his head and stumbled back, dog-paddling his way back.

Painter raised his eyebrows in surprise.

He had thought the High Priest would hide in the purification zone.

“Just like you said, maximize efficiency—I can only do my best. Don’t expect too much.” Fischer glared at him, holding his hands to his chest, and began chanting the piercing incantation as well.

Wisps of corruption emerged from their bodies, converging above Fischer’s hands—a trick of the Eternal Church to collect curses and corruption, though somewhat slow.

…But effective.

…..

[15, 14, 13…]

The countdown continued as Nol desperately tried to purify the corruption, trying to disperse those deadly little shadows. Unfortunately, multitasking was ineffective. He managed the purification and the “firewall” with limited success.

The “firewall” was overloaded, and the system’s countdown continued.

Teest could hear the countdown as well.

He had already tried attacking the shadows with golden threads, but they turned black and rotted upon contact with the shadows. The Death Knight wasn’t skilled in magical attacks, and even if it were, he didn’t have any purification spells.

Furthermore, everything that could die here had already died, rendering his profession’s traits useless.

While Nol could still stand against the Demon King, Teest himself was powerless.

Now, it seemed Nol was more like his knight. Teest retracted the golden thread with a pout, wiping off the relentless blood—whether from corruption or blood loss, he was starting to feel dizzy.

“Ah, this feels terrible,” he muttered silently.

[10, 9, 8…]

With no strategy to handle the Demon King, Teest narrowed his eyes at those annoying shadows. After a moment of thought, he used his only “beyond the system” magic—

[King of Sleep]

The magic spread among the dense shadows, with less-than-ideal effects. Their movements slowed down a bit, but they continued, not falling asleep like the warriors of the War King.

Truly the army of the Demon King.

Teest, like a beast lurking in the bushes, assessed the situation beneath him, continuously casting [King of Sleep].

Skill proficiency could strengthen it a bit. As for the rest, he could…

[5, 4, 3…]

“My God!”

An annoying voice called out, and a green light entered Teest’s vision. The golden thread shot out, firmly hooking the incoming gemstone.

The next second, a burst of white-gold light exploded.

The powerful purification magic activated, pushing the surrounding shadows back several meters, leaving only the Demon King in place. The golden light barrier, like a city wall, kept the army of shadows at bay.

The system’s countdown abruptly stopped.

Nol’s body relaxed slightly. The red pop-ups turned blue again, holding a standoff with the Demon King. Teest coughed up a clot of blood. His [King of Sleep] continued relentlessly, this time targeting the Demon King itself.

At that moment, the system’s voice resonated in Teest’s mind.

It was too clear—not coming from Nol, but a message for him.


<<< || Table of Contents || >>>

Midnight Owl Ch51

Author: 颜凉雨 / Yan Liang Yu

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


Chapter 51: Villa

Kuang Jinxin: “Why did you order something so bland for me? I want to eat meat!”

Qian Ai: “Those who have been foolishly tricked by others, fell into a wine pool, and recovered from a severe coma have no right to be picky eaters.”

Kuang Jinxin: “…”

There were two small square tables filled with Shandong cuisine—one for Lao Qian’s live broadcast area, with Kuang Jinxin hiding opposite, eating a patient’s meal consisting of rice and vegetables but no meat; the other for the team leaders, with Xu Wang resting his chin on one hand, despairingly looking at Wu Sheng across from him.

“Ginger.”

Just as Advisor Wu was about to continue picking up food, he paused with his chopsticks. “Huh?”

Xu Wang sighed. “I said the piece you just ate was ginger.”

Wu Sheng frowned and recalled, quite indignant. “It looked so much like chicken, a master of disguise.”

“You can’t even taste the difference!” Xu Wang collapsed. “What on earth have you been thinking about all afternoon?”

Wu Sheng refocused his mind and became serious. “Two things.”

Xu Wang didn’t expect there to be serious matters and quickly sat up straight, obedient like a model student. “Let’s hear them.”

“The first is about the save points,” Wu Sheng said. “Since there’s more than one save point, there could be three or four. If we can find them and Yue Shuai’s team too, then the more experienced Chi Yingxue’s team naturally will also, right?”

“You’re not going to tell me that we’ll meet them tonight, are you…” Hearing such bad news during a meal was a critical hit.

“If yesterday was their first day of this 3/23 scenario,” Wu Sheng added a star anise to the captain’s plate to match the current conversation’s atmosphere, “then the probability of a happy encounter today is basically one hundred percent.”

Xu Wang looked at the star anise, feeling like it had extended two thin arms, holding a drone controller, and laughing devilishly at him.

“The second thing…” Wu Sheng continued.

Xu Wang quickly looked up at him.

Wu Sheng said, “Yuan Zi…”

Xu Wang: “…”

Yuan Zi and the save point—what’s the difference between these two things? =_=

“Or, to put it another way,” as if seeing Xu Wang’s speechlessness, Wu Sheng changed his approach, “NPCs. I’ve been thinking about the NPCs in the ‘Owl’.”

This piqued Xu Wang’s interest. “What about them?”

“Do you remember those airport ground staff from 2/23?” asked Wu Sheng.

“Of course.” Xu Wang tried but couldn’t forget them. “Repeating the same few lines, looking bewildered when asked anything else, especially the one issuing our boarding passes, who spoke in a tone that didn’t sound human at all. It was very mechanical and creepy.”

“Right.” Wu Sheng felt the same. “But the passengers on the plane were different, like Xu Erling and Shen Yisi. Each one seemed so real.”

Xu Wang said, “It’s the same for this level. Ding Xiaoche—I forgot he was an NPC from beginning to end, and Yuan Zi, even knowing he’s a save point, I still feel he’s a living person.”

“That’s it!” Wu Sheng looked at Xu Wang with bright eyes. “The complexity of NPCs in the ‘Owl’ varies.”

Xu Wang received the intense gaze but not the point, anxiously saying, “Can you explain in simpler terms?”

Wu Sheng: “Sure. For instance, if every NPC has its own independent program…”

Xu Wang: “……”

He decided to try to understand it himself. TAT

Wu Sheng: “Then the more realistic NPCs must have more complex algorithms, and these algorithms must closely mimic the human brain to respond to us so naturally.”

“Artificial intelligence?” No matter how Xu Wang heard it, it all boiled down to these two words.

“Something like that.” Wu Sheng couldn’t be certain, but Yuan Zi’s appearance made him start seriously considering this matter.

Xu Wang pondered for a while and shook his head. “No matter how advanced the algorithm, an NPC is still an NPC. Ding Xiaoche didn’t think there was anything wrong with a zombie apocalypse, and Yuan Zi doesn’t even know there are other levels. He probably doesn’t understand the true meaning of a save point. Those words are just settings.”

“That’s exactly the problem!” A flame that refuses to swim freely in the sea of knowledge and insists on stirring up a storm ignited fiercely in Wu Sheng’s eyes. “They have highly advanced algorithms but are only given extremely limited information, like a supercar forever limited to 20 km/h.”

Xu Wang leaned back slightly in his chair to avoid being burned by the flames of inquiry. “Please boldly state your plan.”

Wu Sheng slightly raised the corner of his mouth. In his restrained smile, it contained an unrestrainable spirit of scientific research. “What if we consciously and systematically feed these NPCs external information?”

Xu Wang: “……”

Forced to engage in intellectual and physical battles every night, already exhausting body and soul, likely to encounter fierce opponents tonight, darkening the path ahead, and now, his advisor, wants to teach NPCs how to be human in addition to overcoming challenges.

Life, why are you so hard? TAT

……

At midnight, as the Owl’s hoots sounded as the four companions entered a purple vortex. Unlike the usual dizziness, they zoomed through a time tunnel, finding themselves back in the restroom of a 4S car dealership.

A Lightning Gun, a chainsaw, a screwdriver, and a rocket launcher with only three bomb balls left all returned to their hands.

Oh, right, and an electric shaver.

Wu Sheng handed the rocket launcher back to Kuang Jinxin and picked up the screwdriver himself—last night Kuang Jinxin had just awakened from unconsciousness, and although he seemed fine, carrying the rocket launcher was still a bit of a strain. Moreover, having witnessed the strength of the zombies in the north of the city, they couldn’t afford to let Xiao Kuang only have a screwdriver now.

After swapping weapons, Wu Sheng immediately went to the stall to look for Yuan Zi, ready to implement his “educational philosophy”.

Xu Wang had already briefed Qian Ai and Xiao Kuang on Advisor Wu’s “sharp idea.” Although they felt it was a bit strange to study how to develop artificial intelligence in a magical world, they couldn’t help but feel a subtle sense of anticipation.

However, the stall was empty.

“I should have thought of this,” Wu Sheng lamented.

Even the distribution of zombies changed daily, let alone such important NPCs as save points.

“There will be plenty of opportunities in the 23 levels. You just focus on writing your lesson plan.” Xu Wang patted his advisor’s shoulder, while in his heart, he lit a candle of “study hard and make progress every day*” for the NPCs they would meet in the future.

*A quote by Mao Zedong.

With Yuan Zi gone from the restroom, the hall now had several more cars and a salesperson shivering in the finance office.

Only then did the four companions truly appreciate the cleverness of their save point here.

Yesterday, they were greeted by a 4S shop ravaged by other teams, with only one car left and the salesperson missing.

Today, they were first on the scene, with a variety of car models to choose from!

They didn’t hesitate, picking the most spacious and sturdy luxury 7-seater SUV—the deluxe edition.

Once everyone was seated, Wu Sheng started the car. The SUV left the 4S shop, entered the spacious road, and truly sped off, unstoppable and dominant, like a lord of the land!

Advisor Wu finally understood the joy of Mr. Thirteen of the Middle Ring.

In a blink, they were back on the elevated road, heading west, according to the map.

This time, without any hindrance, they smoothly left the elevated road, passed the art museum, and besides hitting a few zombies, they didn’t encounter any other teams.

“Ten more minutes, and we’ll be at the hospital.” Wu Sheng had the map memorized.

Qian Ai checked his phone. “Today is going too smoothly… Why do I feel uneasy…”

“Our save point is well-chosen.” Kuang Jinxin had always been one to embrace luck, finding constant doubt too taxing. “Having a car right at the start and getting on the viaduct straight from the 4S shop, we must be ahead of all the teams.”

Xu Wang agreed with this view. “In such a short time, teams from the south of the city couldn’t have crossed the river yet, and teams from the north may not have had such convenient conditions as us.”

“What about Yue Shuai’s team? And the ones from the amusement park…” Ever since receiving the warning of a possible encounter tonight, Qian Ai had been constantly thinking about it and quite conflicted at that. Regarding Yue Shuai’s team, he hoped not to meet them, not because of friendship but to avoid combat risks. But for Chi Yingxue’s team, it was the exact opposite; he couldn’t wait to meet them.

“Their save point is elsewhere,” Wu Sheng said. “Even if they’re heading to the hospital, there’s a time difference with us. It’s normal not to encounter them on the way.”

Wu Sheng used the term “time difference”, avoiding a clear statement of “who’s ahead and who’s behind.”

Xu Wang caught the nuance. “Do you think they might be faster than us?”

Wu Sheng replied, “From the Sunshine Theater to the hospital, the distance is about the same as from our side. If Yue Shuai’s team saved after finding a new car, then today they could hit the road in a car like us.”

“If Chi Yingxue’s team also saved, their save point might be even closer.” Xu Wang calmed down. The overly smooth journey had made him unconsciously optimistic, forgetting that crisis is the norm in the “Owl”.

“There might already be several teams at the hospital.” Kuang Jinxin first acknowledged the concerns of the captain and the advisor, then added, “But it’s also possible that no one’s there, just waiting for us!”

Xu Wang smiled, always fond of such positive energy from this little sun. “Let’s hope your words bring good luck.”

Ten minutes later, the road indeed came to an end.

What greeted them was a European-style villa with an exquisite wrought iron railing surrounding the front yard, which was crowded with zombies. The two-meter-high hollowed-out courtyard door had been pushed to the point of collapse.

“Is this… the hospital?” Qian Ai leaned forward from the back seat, peering through the windshield. “Isn’t the decoration a bit too extravagant?”

“No,” Wu Sheng said. “The hospital is behind this villa.”

Reminded by him, the companions noticed the edge of a red cross barely visible above the villa’s roof.

The villa almost completely obscured the hospital. If not for the slight difference in height, it would have been very difficult to spot.

“There’s no villa on the map.” Wu Sheng thought for a moment. “It must be a hidden location, like the amusement park on the river island.”

Qian Ai felt frustrated, like getting a food delivery only to find no chopsticks, wanting to eat but having to wait. “This thing’s blocking the front of the hospital. What do we do?”

“Charge through.” Xu Wang unbuckled his seatbelt.

This villa blocked the last two hundred meters to the hospital. Regardless of which team and from which direction, there were only two choices: go through the villa or give up.

With the captain deciding the strategic direction, the advisor naturally began to devise tactics. “Lure the tiger out of the mountains, enter the tiger’s den, keep an eye on all sides, act according to circumstances.”

The captain then reviewed and deployed. “Okay. Xiao Kuang, later you’ll launch a bomb ball towards the back. When the zombies at the gate are drawn away, we’ll quickly enter, then adapt to the situation inside based on what we encounter.”

Kuang Jinxin: “Why launch it towards the back?”

Xu Wang: “If there are people inside the villa, an explosion too close would alert them. A little farther away is more advantageous for our infiltration.”

Qian Ai: “How did you infer so much from just a few words…”

Half a minute later, Beijing time, Owl time—the SUV quietly parked by the roadside, hidden under dense trees.

A rocket was launched from the rear window, and in the last glimmer of the setting sun, it exploded into a dazzling spectacle.

The crowd of zombies pressing at the iron gate suddenly quieted, then, the next second, a few zombies on the outer edge turned and rushed toward the explosion. Soon, the entire horde scattered, rushing in the opposite direction like a swarm of locusts.

As the last zombie ran past on the road, Xu Wang immediately said, “Get out of the car!”

The four quickly left the SUV, crouching low and sticking to the roadside, swiftly approaching the villa under the cover of tree shadows, reaching the gate in the blink of an eye.

The gate, long tormented by the horde of zombies, was already half-open. Had it not been for their rocket, the villa might have already been hosting a zombie party.

They agilely slipped through the gate, with Wu Sheng bringing up the rear and gently closing it behind them.

Once inside the gate, they faced the main door of the villa itself. Now, that thick wooden door was wide open, revealing a long corridor whose end was obscured, but the sounds of fighting from inside were audible.

Someone had indeed arrived before them.

Just as Xu Wang thought this, his arm suddenly rang with a “ding—”

The other companions experienced the same.


<<< || Table of Contents || >>>

Midnight Owl Ch50

Author: 颜凉雨 / Yan Liang Yu

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


Chapter 50: Sunrise

When their captain, gasping for breath, ran up to the second floor to find them, Qian Ai and Kuang Jinxin thought something had happened to Wu Sheng. However, they were informed that not only was there no issue, but there was also a big surprise.

With only 9 minutes left until the 5:00 a.m. deadline for the Beijing time challenge, they discovered a save-point NPC in the men’s bathroom.

Seeing all four members gathered, the round-headed NPC got straight to the point and introduced himself. “Just call me Yuan Zi.” He clung to the doorframe, only showing his head, and explained succinctly, “Once the save is successful, you will appear here tomorrow with all the stationery you currently have. The saved record will then disappear. But you can only save once a week.”

“So, you mean that after this save, even if we find a save point again, we can’t save if it’s not been a week?” Xu Wang sought clarification.

“Those who don’t meet the criteria won’t have a chance to save, even if they see me,” Yuan Zi clarified, always referring to himself instead of a ‘save point’.

“What if we submitted our paper on the same day we save? Do we still have to come back here the next day and do it all over again?” Wu Sheng immediately asked, thoughtfully adding follow-up questions, “If we need to repeat, does the same apply if we fail? And if we don’t need to repeat, does that mean the save record for this level wasn’t read or has automatically disappeared? Then, can we save again at the next level within a week?”

Xu Wang had just grasped Yuan Zi’s rules when he was dragged into a forest of ‘hypotheses’ and ‘ifs’ by his logic-strong advisor, making it hard to see the path clearly.

He thought, luckily Yuan Zi is an NPC; if he were a real person, it would probably take half a day to untangle Wu Sheng’s questions.

To their surprise, Yuan Zi also looked confused, with his mouth half open and his eyes blank.

“What do you mean by the next level?” he asked.

This unexpected response silenced Wu Sheng.

Xu Wang realized he was mistaken. Yuan Zi didn’t need to understand Wu Sheng’s questions because even the basis of Wu Sheng’s queries was a blank slate to Yuan Zi.

“Ugh, you guys are so slow. Do you want to save or not?” Yuan Zi grew impatient, stretching out another hand from the stall. “To save, give me your hand; to refuse, say it out loud!”

The four teammates exchanged glances and unanimously stepped forward.

No one would oppose a hidden reward.

Four hands, one on top of the other, fell into Yuan Zi’s plump palm. The save NPC was insistent on not stepping out of the stall. He stood in front of the toilet, holding their hands, closed his eyes, and started chanting.

“Save the present, continue the tied fate. Though the path is thorny and dangerous, may the road ahead be safe.”

As his words ended, a faint golden light emitted from the owl tattoos on all four arms. The light converged into a beam, turning from pale gold to gold, shooting upwards before dispersing like golden raindrops hitting the ceiling.

“Ding—”

Xu Wang’s [Stationery Box]: Acquired [(Defense) Aladdin’s Magic Carpet]

Wu Sheng’s [Stationery Box]: Acquired [(Offense) The Flood Overwhelms the Dragon King’s Temple*]

*(大水冲了龙王庙) Idiom referring to a situation where conflicts arise between people on one’s own side (basically, internal conflict).

Qian Ai’s [Stationery Box]: Acquired [(Offense) Swish Swish Hidden Blade*]

*The term used (袖里剑) is usually referred to these type of blades (you often see in Assassin’s Creed).

Kuang Jinxin’s [Stationery Box]: Acquired [(Illusory) Kong Rong Giving Up Pears*]

*(孔融让梨) Idiom derives from a story about Kong Rong. The story goes that when he was a child, he would always pick the smallest pear and give the bigger ones to his siblings. When asked why, he said as an older brother, he should let the younger siblings have the bigger pears, and as a younger brother, he should respect his older siblings and let them have the bigger pears. The story is used to illustrate moral common sense, so people should abide by public order and good customs.

“Ding—”

[Cheat Sheet]: Save successful.

After the last drop of “golden rain” fell, the bathroom returned to the night, but the four teammates were still reeling from the surprise.

They were prepared for the save success notification, but receiving a piece of stationery each was unexpected. Was this a reward for finding the save point?

Just as Xu Wang was about to ask Yuan Zi, the third and fourth “dings” rang in unison on all four arms.

The arrival of two new messages was almost seamless.

[Report Card]: [Total Scoreboard] This week’s rewards have been distributed.

[Report Card]: [Total Scoreboard] Please open and check promptly.

Xu Wang was somewhat dazed by the barrage of notifications.

Since leaving the first challenge, they hadn’t received any notifications from the [Report Card]. More importantly, even in the first challenge, the information they received was only about other teams’ submissions. The two sub-options under the [Report Card], [Total Scoreboard] and [Submission Speed Board], had been unclickable and grayed out since they entered the “Owl.”

Now, unexpectedly, the [Total Scoreboard] opened up, and that too just 2 minutes before the 5:00 a.m. deadline.

A test of quick memorization skills!

Xu Wang had no time to ponder further and quickly opened the leaderboard.

[Total Scoreboard]

Top 1 – Fan Peiyang, Teng Ziyan, Wan Fengmang, Zhang Qian, Zheng Luozhu (11/23)

Top 2 – Fang Jin, Fei Fan, Li Deng, Shao Jingyi, Yin Hengjia (10/23)

Top 3 – Chen Guan, Gu Nian, Jiang Dachuan, Kong Lizhe, Wang Duanran (10/23)

Top 4 – Fu Wenqing, He Lianshan, Qin Rui, Wu Yanchao, Zhao Muchen (9/23)

Top 5 – Feng Rang, Ji Yunlei, Wei Menghan, Zhu Mo, Zou Jun (8/23)

The leaderboard was simpler than imagined, displaying only the top five teams receiving rewards, ranked by their real-time scores at the moment of the announcement.

Just as Xu Wang skimmed through the names, the challenge deadline arrived.

After a dizzying spin, they found themselves back inside the scenic area.

At the Yellow River’s mouth in the early morning, dawn was about to break. In the far distance where the water met the sky, a faint yellow light was emerging.

Peaceful, comfortable, with a cool morning breeze.

The apocalyptic city, stained with blood and filled with howls, seemed like a world away.

However, though they had returned, the teammates’ minds were still hanging on that last-minute leaderboard.

Kuang Jinxin was the first to speak up, always asking when he didn’t understand. “Why are there five people in each team on the leaderboard?”

“Maybe we need more team members in the later stages,” Qian Ai guessed, not sure himself.

“And what about the ‘weekly reward’?” Kuang Jinxin asked again. “Does it mean that every week the top five teams get a reward?”

“Yes, once a week,” Qian Ai replied, and then realized something was off. “Haven’t you seen it before?”

Kuang Jinxin was puzzled. “Have you?”

Qian Ai suddenly remembered he had entered the “Owl” earlier than his three teammates and quickly explained, “Before teaming up with you, I saw the leaderboard once. At that time, the first place had a score of…” He pondered, finally catching a fragment of memory. “Right, 10/23.”

Kuang Jinxin frowned. “But Mao Qiping said the strongest team had reached the thirteenth stage. The first place we just saw was only at 11/23.”

“They must have failed in 14/23 and fallen back,” Qian Ai said.

Xu Wang didn’t speak, but his mind was clear.

He, Wu Sheng, and Kuang Jinxin had entered the “Owl” on the same day, and it had been exactly seven nights—a full week. For Qian Ai, who entered a few days earlier, the last time he saw the leaderboard must have been the night before they were sucked into the “Owl”.

Seeing Kuang Jinxin still frowning, Xu Wang, having thought it through, continued Qian Ai’s explanation: “What we saw on the leaderboard are the current top five real-time scores. The level they reached before isn’t the standard for awarding rewards.”

Kuang Jinxin still felt it was unfair. “If I’m in the top five for a week but fail at the last moment before the reward is given, fall back three levels, and drop out of the top five, wouldn’t that be unjust?”

“It’s because the scores are always changing, and there’s no absolute fair standard, so they just cut it off,” Wu Sheng said, lifting his head from his thoughts. “Since the reward time is fixed, if you’re afraid of missing out, you could just go to the Endless Sea and enjoy the breeze that day.”

Kuang Jinxin’s eyes lit up with admiration. “Sheng Ge, you’re so cunning.”

Wu Sheng: “……”

Sincerely praising with a derogatory word indeed left the recipient with mixed feelings.

Exhausted and weary, the four teammates were in no mood to wait for the sunrise. After a brief chat, they headed back.

Unexpectedly, they had walked until dawn towards the sunrise over the Yellow River, yet they hadn’t left the scenic area.

The journey from the south of the city to the north of the city wasn’t in vain.

So they changed from hurrying to a leisurely walk, stopping now and then to admire the sunrise, the wetlands, and various waterbirds—a mix of labor and leisure to avoid leg fatigue the next night.

Sometimes, fate arrives, and it’s unstoppable.

During their carefree walk, passing through a reed marsh, they encountered “old friends”.

Yue Shuai with his buzz cut, Su Mingzhan with his student haircut, Tao Anan in his fisherman’s hat, and Wei Tianhang with his braids. The lineup was orderly, but compared to when they parted, they looked much more haggard.

Even so, Xu Wang instinctively halted, preventing his teammates from moving forward.

Seeing their reaction, Yue Shuai was speechless. “It’s not the ‘Owl’ anymore. Even if I wanted you guys to keep jumping, it wouldn’t comply with scientific laws.”

For Yue Shuai and his team, encountering opponents from the “Owl” in the real world was common, but for Xu Wang and his team, it was a first-time experience. It was a peculiar feeling, as if the boundary between the “Owl” and reality had blurred.

Xu Wang shook his head to clear it, adjusting his mindset to return to reality before taking a fresh look at the four “old friends”. He tentatively asked, “Didn’t complete your submission?”

Wei Tianhang huffed angrily. Yue Shuai raised an eyebrow in annoyance. “What makes you think that?”

Xu Wang shrugged and shook his head. “Well, messy hair, dirty faces, blood all over… You don’t exactly look like ‘victorious soldiers’.”

Yue Shuai, irritated, retorted, “Before talking about others, maybe you should take a picture of yourselves with your phone…”

“Did you guys successfully submit?” Su Mingzhan sharply caught the hint of triumph in Xu Wang’s eyes.

Xu Wang paused, then composed himself with an air of regret. “No, time was up, and we got ejected.”

Su Mingzhan looked at him skeptically.

Xu Wang stood proudly, his posture screaming innocence.

Su Mingzhan then observed the others.

Wu Sheng, hands in pockets, gazed at the sunrise at a 45-degree angle, exuding an air of unmatched handsomeness.

Qian Ai picked up a blade of grass and teased Kuang Jinxin with it.

Kuang Jinxin, tickled by the grass, laughed while retaliating with another blade.

Su Mingzhan suddenly didn’t want to admit that their team had nearly missed the boat yesterday because of these four.

“We did too.” Yue Shuai spoke up again, as his teammates didn’t notice any flaws. “Time was up, and we were forced out.”

Xu Wang sighed. “So you guys are going back three stages?”

Yue Shuai raised an eyebrow. “Aren’t you?”

Xu Wang admitted, “Yes.”

Yue Shuai shrugged. “Then that’s that.”

Xu Wang: “……”

Yue Shuai: “……”

Xu Wang: “Why are you looking at the reeds?”

Yue Shuai: “Appreciating nature’s beauty.”

Yue Shuai: “Why are you watching the sunrise?”

Xu Wang: “Absorbing the energy of the universe.”

Xu Wang: “……”

Yue Shuai: “……”

Xu Wang: “Shall we trust each other one last time?”

Yue Shuai: “I think so.”

Su Mingzhan: “One, two, three.”

Xu Wang, Yue Shuai: “Actually, we didn’t leave.”

Xu Wang, Yue Shuai: “You found a save point too?!”

Su Mingzhan: “Why don’t you two team up?”

Wu Sheng: “Absolutely not.”

The compatibility of auras is a mysterious thing.

In the “Owl”, they had formed a deep enmity over a single jump, but back in reality, seeing each other’s equally disheveled state, the past seemed distant. After all, no one had taken it easy on anyone, and no one had reaped benefits without suffering.

With the discovery of the save point, there was nothing they couldn’t discuss. The two teams mixed and walked together along a path, avoiding the main road, heading towards the exit of the scenic area.

Throughout their journey, the two team leaders chatted, naturally touching upon the 59-minute mark at the Sunshine Theatre and the battle at the amusement park.

Xu Wang: “59 minutes is just heart-wrenching! What happened afterward?”

Yue Shuai: “Ever played with beach balls?”

Xu Wang: “The punishment for failing is to play with them?”

Yue Shuai: “Replace the ocean balls with zombies.”

Xu Wang: “……”

Yue Shuai: “And you guys? Really made it through those psychos?”

Xu Wang: “Genuine.”

Yue Shuai: “……”

Xu Wang: “What’s that look?”

Yue Shuai: “Jealousy.”

Xu Wang: “……”

Yue Shuai: “You said you’ve only been here for a week?”

Xu Wang: “Right.”

Yue Shuai: “Then you guys are really impressive.”

Xu Wang: “Your sudden honesty and straightforwardness is a bit unsettling for me…”

Learning that Yue Shuai’s team had saved their game at the Sunshine Theatre, Xu Wang was genuinely surprised. “There’s more than one save point?”

“It seems so,” Yue Shuai said.

Xu Wang noticed the uncertainty in his tone and looked at him questioningly.

Yue Shuai conceded, speaking truthfully. “It’s also our first time discovering this save thing.”

“And before that…”

“We fell back when we failed.”

“Oh.”

“Oh? What kind of reaction is that?”

“Deep sympathy.”

“……”

“But not every stage might have a save point,” Wu Sheng interjected assertively. “Based on my observation, this stage is very time-consuming. If I were the designer, I would also set a save point here. But like the previous stage, which was entirely on a plane and had 5 hours to figure out a password, the time was sufficient. In my opinion, there’s no need for a save point there. Otherwise, the difficulty of submitting would be too low.”

“Based on my observation? In my opinion?” Xu Wang turned his head to look at Wu Sheng, who was now standing shoulder-to-shoulder with them. “Can you provide some objective evidence?”

Wu Sheng tilted his head. “Isn’t my deduction convincing enough?”

Xu Wang: “……”

The way Wu Sheng emphasized “my” sounded too much like “this king”. =_=

Yue Shuai was about to discuss Wu Sheng’s deduction when Su Mingzhan suddenly pulled him aside.

“What’s up?” Yue Shuai was confused.

Su Mingzhan glanced at him. “One should know oneself.”

Yue Shuai was even more baffled.

Su Mingzhan sighed. “In a group of three, there’s always a third wheel.”

Yue Shuai was startled, then looked down at himself. “Me?” Then he looked at the two still bickering ahead. “Them?”

Su Mingzhan nodded approvingly. “Correct division.”

Yue Shuai suddenly understood. “No wonder I always felt that Wu guy was glaring at me.”

Su Mingzhan: “You’re welcome.”

Yue Shuai: “I haven’t even thanked you yet…”

Following the four were Tao Anan and Wei Tianhang, walking side by side, and Qian Ai and Kuang Jinxin, who were immersed in enjoying the scenery.

Wei Tianhang: “Do you think the captain has realized that A’Su always has his arm around him?”

Tao Anan: “Probably not. Our captain thinks in a single thread; he can’t focus on ‘talking’ and ‘noticing an arm’ at the same time.”

Wei Tianhang: “How did we even choose our captain…”

The eight of them, dirty and blood-stained, finally made their way out of the scenic area via a back route. Fortunately, it was still early, and there were few pedestrians outside. However, the taxi driver who was called by the taxi app was scared stiff. After much persuasion and explanation, they managed to avoid being refused service.

Back in Huanghekou Town, the two teams went their separate ways, each returning to their hotels without any warm dinner plans.

There might be a confrontation again in the evening—getting too emotionally involved wasn’t a good idea.


<<< || Table of Contents || >>>

Suddenly Trending Ch53

Author: 颜凉雨 / Yan Liang Yu

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


Chapter 53

The “Happy New Year” message wasn’t a mass text from Ran Lin. But indeed, Lu Yiyao wasn’t the only one who received it.

Xia Xinran, Gu Jie, Tang Xiaoyu, Liu Wanwan, and others all received Ran Lin’s New Year wishes. He typed each message word by word, feeling that this way, the intention of the blessing would genuinely attach to the text and be sent along with it.

Of course, the recipients might not feel it, but Ran Lin liked doing it this way; it was his little personal conviction.

The first to reply was Xia Xinran, instantly. Clearly, at the turn of the new year, this friend was holding his phone.

“I thought you’d forget about me after your trip to Hengdian!”

Xia Xinran usually sent voice messages when possible—he found typing too troublesome.

Ran Lin also responded with a laugh. “I’m back from Hengdian now.”

“I know you wrapped up shooting. I even liked your Weibo post, didn’t you see?”

“……”

With nearly ten thousand likes on each post, especially the wrap-up one, which garnered over fifty thousand due to other actors’ popularity, how could he specifically look for one named Xia Xinran? Ran Lin felt almost wronged to tears.

Then, the voice on the other side of WeChat was even more aggrieved—

“You could look at my Weibo. You’d see my like instantly!”

“……”

“You definitely never visit my Weibo…” 😭 😭 😭

Voice messages and emoticons together constitute a dramatic narrative on WeChat. Ran Lin never thought of himself as a dishonest person, but he really wanted to laugh.

[My mistake. I’ll make sure to check your Weibo frequently from now on!]

“Why are you suddenly texting… You’re laughing, aren’t you!”

[If I weren’t at my parents’ house, I’d suspect you installed a pinhole camera in my room.]

“You have the nerve to admit it…”

[Hahahahaha]

Unable to hold back, Ran Lin needed to express his mood. Xia Xinran, of course, was riled up again.

But after a bit of banter, Xia Xinran got serious and suggested, “Let’s meet up sometime. It’s been a year in a blink; I’ve almost forgotten what you look like.”

Xia Xinran had always been carefree, far from melancholy, so his sigh took Ran Lin by surprise. It turned out that even the most jovial people have a delicate side.

“Sure.” Ran Lin agreed readily.

It had been almost a year since the recording of “Drifting Story” ended in March last year, and since then, he really hadn’t seen Xia Xinran. Looking back, it had almost been a year. If you go back further to the airport incident with Lu Yiyao, which was actually in October, the year before the reality show, if you consider that day as the start of their acquaintance, it had now been a year and over three months.

The badge collection seemed like yesterday, and time flew so fast when it sped up—it was frightening. No wonder Xia Xinran would sigh; Ran Lin could empathize. A year flew by, and even the best of friends could drift apart without contact amidst the relentless pace of work.

After chatting with Xia Xinran, Ran Lin finally saw Lu Yiyao’s reply—[Happy New Year.]

It seemed so unoriginal, as if he just copied and pasted his greeting.

Outside, firecrackers thundered. Ran Lin quietly watched the avatar that had stirred his whole year, secretly blessing him again in his heart—Happy New Year, bad guy.

He was initially planning to stay home until the fifteenth day of the first lunar month, but on the fourth day of the new year, Wang Xi called him back. His parents didn’t object. In fact, they were happy for their son—being busy meant his career was flourishing.

This time it was for a Valentine’s Day special issue of a magazine. Initially, only Han Ze was invited for the shoot, but the magazine heard that a rival publication—actually a competitor—planned to feature a more popular new-generation male star on the same issue’s cover. A direct comparison seemed unfavorable, so the magazine’s planning team decided to use a “double-boyfriend” theme.

Changing from a solo cover to a duo wasn’t exactly ethical, but the magazine was prestigious, and so-called shooting invitations were often eagerly sought by stars’ agents. So when they said they wanted to change, Wang Xi, despite her reluctance, agreed.

Fortunately, the magazine acknowledged Wang Xi’s flexibility and, after several alternative stars couldn’t be booked—either genuinely busy or feeling Han Ze wasn’t high-profile enough to share a cover—agreed to Wang Xi’s recommendation of Ran Lin.

Ran Lin knew getting this opportunity was half due to Wang Xi and half to luck. Valentine’s Day wasn’t far off, and any more delays would leave the magazine with a gaping hole.

The day before the shoot, he returned to Beijing, and the next day was scheduled for shooting. The location was in a remote wilderness on the outskirts of Beijing, almost deserted. But there was a particular wide field there, covered with dry, frosty grass, offering a desolate cinematic feel—precisely what the photographer wanted.

Ran Lin got up early, quickly got ready, and headed to the company. After waiting for about half an hour, Wang Xi and Han Ze arrived together. Wang Xi’s phone was incessantly buzzing, and after an apparently exciting call, she stepped out, leaving Ran Lin and Han Ze staring awkwardly at each other in her office.

While Wang Xi was there, Han Ze was all smiles. But as soon as she left, he took all traces of friendliness with her. It was the first time Ran Lin had seen someone’s face change so quickly—so fast that he didn’t feel insulted but rather found it amusing.

“Long time, no see.” Han Ze’s face was cold, but his opening line was mild.

“Long time, no see.” Ran Lin reciprocated the courtesy.

Han Ze wore a light gray cashmere coat that day, beautifully tailored to accentuate his lean and handsome figure. Ran Lin looked down at his down jacket—not bad-looking, but next to Han Ze’s, it clearly showed the difference in status.

There was a styling team in the company, but not exclusively for Ran Lin, so unless there was a high-profile event, he wore his own clothes.

“When does <Sword of Fallen Flowers> air?” Han Ze suddenly asked casually.

Ran Lin hadn’t expected Han Ze to initiate conversation and honestly replied, “The production team is aiming for a June premiere, so they’re currently working hard on post-production.”

Han Ze nodded and then curiously raised an eyebrow. “I haven’t seen your acting yet. I can’t imagine what it’s like.”

Ran Lin internally rolled his eyes. This was clearly a dig, as he might not have played many significant roles, but he had been in several minor ones. Han Ze’s comments were undoubtedly meant to be a slight.

“You’ll know when it airs,” Ran Lin replied with a slight smile, meeting his gaze directly, unflinching.

A flicker of annoyance crossed Han Ze’s eyes, but he said no more.

Ran Lin suddenly regretted his reaction. Han Ze had a point to be upset; even though the switch to a duo cover was the magazine’s idea, he ultimately benefited from it. It was normal for Han Ze to be a bit sour and sarcastic and Ran Lin didn’t need to provoke him unnecessarily.

Ran Lin lowered his eyes, furrowing his brow, seriously reflecting whether he had grown more temperamental in the new year.

When Wang Xi walked in, she found two quiet, handsome men and was quite pleased. “Handsome guys, the car’s here.” She didn’t need them to be close as brothers since they were in competition over resources. Being polite and courteous was enough.

Ran Lin knew they were going to shoot in the wilderness, but when they actually arrived at the location, the sight still took his breath away.

An expanse of desolate land, only a small farmhouse stood solitary amidst the wilderness, accompanied only by a few trees. The roof and branches were laden with remnants of snow, and the wind scattered fine snowflakes around.

The photographer invited by the magazine was already there, busy capturing various angles of the small house as if it were the day’s star.

Tian Mai was one of the most renowned male star photographers in the industry, not because he only shot males but because his male portraits were always outrageously handsome. Unfortunately, his female portraits were rather ordinary. Over time, he was no longer sought after for female shoots.

Ran Lin had only heard his name and was seeing him in person for the first time today. The photographer turned around at the sound of the car; his semi-long, wavy hair, deep eyes, and thoughtful stubble, holding a camera, looked like a brooding male god from an art film.

Ran Lin genuinely thought he should be the one photographed.

The magazine’s styling team was already on site, and both Ran Lin and Han Ze went into the makeup van to be dolled up, emerging as the warm male idols perfect for Valentine’s Day.

Tian Mai was pleased with the styling and lifted his camera to signal that it was time to start. “Let’s get moving now!”

Ran Lin and Han Ze glanced at each other, and finally, Han Ze asked, “Move how?”

Tian Mai blew a lock of hair from his forehead and smiled. “Climb the roof.”

The farmhouse had been long abandoned but was refurbished and decorated in advance, giving it a retro vibe reminiscent of photos from the 80s. They managed to get on the roof, and Tian Mai—or rather, “Cheerios*” as Ran Lin nicknamed him—had them embrace the wilderness wind on the roof.

*Clarity: His name is Tian Mai (田麦). Ran Lin changed it around to [Tian Maiquan] (甜麦圈), substituting the () with () as they are homophones, making his nickname Cheerios (the literal translation would be sweet wheat rings, referring to any cereal that’s round).

After a recent snowfall, although much had melted, there were still patches of snow. The photographer had the crew build a snowman and bring it to the roof to join them for the shoot.

The winter wind was harsh, and the temperature low. By the end, both men were nearly unable to smile, but Cheerios was finally satisfied and called it a day.

That evening, the magazine released behind-the-scenes footage on Weibo, showing both men posing stylishly on the roof. During the shoots, they looked cool, but in the intervals, they appeared to be pleading to be let down. The background was always filled with the photographer’s satisfied laughter, clearly enjoying the shoot immensely. The video immediately trended on Weibo, especially for the photographer’s infectious laugh, which netizens found addictive.

Ran Lin’s PR team had already re-posted it for him. By the time he checked Weibo, there were already over a thousand comments. During the airing of the reality show, his Weibo was bustling with activity, with fans and haters alike leaving nearly ten thousand comments. But as the show ended and discussions cooled down, especially since he hadn’t been exposed much after, sticking to filming in Hengdian, his Weibo comments stabilized at one to two thousand.

Most detractors had left, and aside from the company-paid commenters, his feed was now filled with genuine fans. Some were daily regulars, others dropped by every few days. While it wasn’t bustling, it was harmonious and warm.

[This courtyard feels so nostalgic and vintage. Can I have the location please? 🤩]

[Ahhh both of them are so handsome!!!]

[Are you still looking for a snowman? One with a college degree?]

[Why am I feeling this CP vibe? I’m a loyal Green Forest member. I don’t want to switch sides 😭]

[……]

Ran Lin scrolled through the top comments, accidentally blinded by the “Green Forest” reference. He wasn’t sure who coined the CP name, but even after so much time, Ran Lin still resented it, feeling like he wasn’t doing it justice without a large golden hoop around his waist.

While internally mocking, his lips curled into a smile.

But before the smile fully formed, he froze.

[Love Yao For Life: After hyping up God Lu, now it’s Han Ze’s turn. A masterstroke indeed. I salute you 👋.]

Ran Lin remembered this ID, not out of will but because this user was deeply devoted to him, visiting more punctually than a true fan from last year to this.

Amidst his fans’ domain, seeking attention, especially when almost all the detractors had left, Love Yao For Life naturally became a target. Ran Lin clicked on the replies to this comment, and indeed, the tone shifted dramatically into a storm of blood and fury.

Among the many irrational true fan voices, there was one ID that remained calm and restrained throughout, and interestingly enough, Love Fao for Life only conversed with this one ID.

Ran Lin recognized it—Lin’s Family Burning Noodles.

The first reply was—[Han Ze and Ran Lin are artists from the same company. Collaborating for a duo cover is normal. There’s no hype involved. Plus, you can tell from the behind-the-scenes that they had a lot of fun.]

Ran Lin then witnessed a “magical conversation”—

Love Yao For Life: [Same company?]

Lin’s Family Burning Noodles: [Yes, and they share the same agent. Next time before you speak, maybe you should do your homework.]

Love Yao For Life: [I don’t like your tone!]

Lin’s Family Burning Noodles: [What a coincidence, neither do I.]

Love Yao For Life: [Doesn’t matter, in my eyes, Ran Lin can never be cleared of guilt. I will always be against him!!!]

Lin’s Family Burning Noodles: [Welcome to the opposition, but please make it intelligent.]

Love Yao For Life: [Expletive] [Expletive] [Expletive]

Lin’s Family Burning Noodles: [😊😊😊]

Love Yao For Life: [Ahhhhhhhh!]

Lin’s Family Burning Noodles: [Hahahaha!]

Love Yao For Life: [You’re sick!]

Lin’s Family Burning Noodles: [Very sick 😳]

Love Yao For Life: Please stop replying to me and go get treatment!

Lin’s Family Burning Noodles: [Only you are my antidote ❤️]

Love Yao For Life: [Fans’ behavior will be paid for by the idol. You’re bringing hate to your master!]

Lin’s Family Burning Noodles: [No one is anyone’s master. All are born equal.]

Love Yao For Life: [Can’t bother talking to a crazy person. I won’t reply to you anymore 👋.]

Lin’s Family Burning Noodles: [👋 Don’t forget to check your private messages.]

Love Yao For Life: [Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!]

After reading the last comment, Ran Lin laughed so hard his stomach hurt, and he still felt unsatisfied, so he refreshed the comments to see if there were any new developments in the past ten minutes.

Indeed, there were—

Lu Yiyao: [Have you considered the snowman’s feelings…]

Ran Lin was momentarily stunned. It seemed like he was suddenly brought back from the world of Weibo to reality, and the light-hearted mood slowly settled down, grew roots, and began to develop other indescribable emotions.

If the snowman could speak, it would surely curse him and Han Ze for accidentally knocking it over during the shoot, which was clear in the behind-the-scenes footage.

But Lu Yiyao surely wasn’t really coming to defend the snowman. He was standing up for him.

Because right after his comment, someone immediately @Love Yao For Life—[Your God Lu has commented. Awkward much?]

Actually, this tagging was a bit spiteful, but Love Yao For Life replied—[Don’t tag me. Hanging my head in shame, reflecting on my life…]

Though it was overly wishful to imagine Lu Yiyao scrolling through his comment section to then reply directly to defend him, considering that he once sent dozens of Weibo message screenshots in one breath, it might not be impossible.

But after all they had gone through, would he still look at his comment section?

Ran Lin shook his head. He was probably overthinking again.

……

Lu Yiyao looked at Ran Lin’s reply with a [😂] emoji, feeling utterly dismissed.

The crying while laughing emoji is the most versatile expression in the world. Whatever emotion you interpret it as, it embodies it, making it the perfect response for any situation.

Lu Yiyao sighed, watching the behind-the-scenes footage again, confirming once more that he indeed disliked it. Watching Ran Lin have fun with another person made him want to pull the other person out of the screen, replace them with himself, or even replace the snowman standing there would be fine!

He never considered himself a possessive person, but now he just wished Ran Lin would laugh with him.

He wanted the whole world to know how great Ran Lin was but didn’t want Ran Lin to share his greatness with the whole world. Lu Yiyao felt he wasn’t far from becoming a possessive freak.

One step forward was an abyss.

One step back was heartbreak.

Should he try the abyss…

“Huh?” Suddenly, a questioning sound came from Yao Hong across from him.

Lu Yiyao looked up bewildered. “Huh?”

Yao Hong frowned slightly. “I just asked you what you were looking at. Didn’t you hear me?”

“Oh, I heard.” Lu Yiyao tried to maintain a natural expression, shaking his phone. “Just browsing Weibo.”

Yao Hong studied him for a long while, finally shaking her head. “No, you’ve been off these past few days, often daydreaming and laughing for no reason.”

Lu Yiyao looked innocent and naïve. “Really?”

Yao Hong stared at him seriously and said, “If there’s anything, you must tell me. Only when we are honest with each other can we do our work well.”

Lu Yiyao pondered for a moment, nodding solemnly. “I understand.”

Yao Hong seemed to want to say more, but just then, a staff member came to notify Lu Yiyao it was time for him to go on stage for a talk show he was guesting on.

As the dressing room door closed again, Yao Hong turned to look at Li Tong.

Li Tong, as if anticipating, promptly raised his head and proactively said, “Hong Jie.”

Yao Hong cut to the chase. “Did anything happen in Hengdian while I was away?”

Li Tong hesitated briefly but quickly recovered. “What do you mean by ‘anything’, Hong Jie?”

Yao Hong bluntly said, “Your Lu Ge.”

Li Tong promptly replied, “It was just filming and rushing work every day. Nothing particularly notable.”

Yao Hong: “Did he get particularly close to any female actress on set?”

“No.” Li Tong didn’t even need to think. “He’s avoiding the female lead as much as he can, let alone the second or third female leads.”

Yao Hong was silent, just staring intently at Li Tong, not missing any subtle expression on his face.

Li Tong swallowed nervously but didn’t divert his gaze, standing upright and proud.

Finally, Yao Hong believed him, sighing and instructing, “Pay more attention. Whatever the situation, you must report to me in time.”

Li Tong’s tense nerves gradually relaxed, but he asked knowingly, “Hong Jie, are you worried Lu Ge will fall in love?”

Seeing him ask this, Yao Hong dismissed a bit of her suspicion and said, “I’m not worried about him falling in love. Of course, it’s best if he doesn’t, but I know at his age it’s impossible to control, and it’s inevitable. What I’m worried about is him secretly dating and not telling me.”

Li Tong could tell Yao Hong genuinely cared for Lu Yiyao, which only intensified his guilt.

But this was something he couldn’t reveal, or the sky would fall.

Watching Yao Hong slowly close her eyes to rest, Li Tong put on his earphones and continued playing the song he had paused earlier, right at the chorus—

“The young man under the sun~~ Has your dream come true~~ In this cold world~~ Have you changed~”

Scouring the internet with bits and pieces of lyrics he remembered, he finally found the song Lu Yiyao was humming that day.

Looking at the name in the artist column, Li Tong felt utterly hopeless.

The song was pleasant, the person was good-looking, and Lu Ge was indeed heading for trouble…

……

The day after the magazine shoot, Ran Lin got a script from Wang Xi—<Chronicles of Winter>. It was an ancient fantasy drama based on a novel. The original novel wasn’t a super popular IP, but it had a decent fan base. The investment was moderate, and the cast was all young newcomers. The role given to Ran Lin was the male lead.

Wang Xi sat in Ran Lin’s apartment’s living room sofa, smiling at him, saying, “Ran Lin, you’re going to be the lead.”

Ran Lin felt like he was dreaming.

After Wang Xi left, he spent all night reading the script. To be honest, the script was just okay—more like a martial arts and romance story dressed in a fantasy guise. But the male lead was indeed the center of all the main and subplots, with all conflicts and emotions revolving around him. It could be said that the director gave the most splendid part to the male lead, including the female lead, who was also second to the male lead.

And if it were a big IP, big investment, and a high-quality script, Ran Lin knew it might not necessarily be his turn.

According to Wang Xi, the production company was interested in him because of his role in <Sword of Fallen Flowers> believing that he would gain significant popularity once the drama aired, so they were willing to take a risk on him. After all, his current price was very cheap. If <Sword of Fallen Flowers> really hit big, then they would have gotten a jade for the price of cabbage. By the time <Chronicles of Winter> aired, it would no longer be a cast of newcomers but a popular rising star leading a group of young talents.

Though he didn’t need to audition, Ran Lin still read the script whenever he had free time, trying to get into the character, as the male lead’s personality was too different from his own, necessitating constant reflection.

Before he could fully grasp the character, Valentine’s Day quietly arrived. With no schedules that day, Ran Lin slept in and woke up to countless @ mentions on Weibo. Upon checking, he found out that the magazine’s official account had released the special issue.

The cover feature was a separate post with a grid of nine pictures of him and Han Ze, including posed and candid moments on the rooftop. In the desolate wilderness background, he and Han Ze looked brilliantly warm and radiant in the photos.

Looking at himself in the photos, Ran Lin felt very unfamiliar. Even though the features were familiar, no matter how he looked, he seemed to have become a much more handsome version of himself.

The PR team had already shared it for him. With nothing of his own to repost, Ran Lin simply went to the photographer Tian Mai’s Weibo and liked one of his posts.

Just as he finished liking, his phone rang. It was Xia Xinran.

Ran Lin curiously answered, and the voice on the other end immediately said, “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

Ran Lin chuckled. “Same to you.”

“Do you have time tomorrow night?” Xia Xinran was straightforward.

Ran Lin teasingly replied, “Depends on what kind of gathering you’re organizing. I’m not attending if it’s unhealthy.”

Xia Xinran protested, “I’m so healthy, I could be the entertainment industry’s positive energy ambassador!”

Ran Lin laughed, then said, “I’m free tomorrow, where do you want to meet?”

Xia Xinran, a man of his word, had mentioned meeting up over the phone, so Ran Lin knew it would definitely happen. “Let me clarify first. It’s not just the two of us. There will be others too,” Xia Xinran hurriedly explained, sensing Ran Lin’s misunderstanding.

Ran Lin’s heart sank momentarily, his first thought being Zhang Beichen, but then he remembered Xia Xinran’s attitude towards Zhang Beichen and realized he was probably worrying over nothing. He guessed, “Gu Jie?”

“No.” Xia Xinran didn’t keep him guessing and disclosed. “It’s like a friends’ circle gathering. Mostly people we get along with, including artists, designers, etc. We’re planning an old-fashioned Republic of China-themed party. You don’t need to wear a costume; you can change when you get here.”

Ran Lin had heard of such private industry gatherings where close friends got together for drinks and chats, a way to maintain relationships. Everyone was relaxed since it was just among friends. Sometimes friends brought other friends, and it was a good way to expand one’s social circle.

Xia Xinran said, “Don’t overthink it. It’s just a private gathering. Getting to know more people is only good for you, and it’s also a chance for us to catch up. Otherwise, I’ll be going into another drama production next week, and you’ll forget my stunning beauty.”

Ran Lin was dumbfounded but warmed by the thought.

Xia Xinran was from a talent show background and had fought hard for his current status. His success wasn’t only due to his agency but also his efforts. He was sociable, clear-headed, and well-regarded by investors and directors he worked with. Although not every artist he worked with liked him, those who did become his friends were genuine friends. Thus, his social circle was indeed valuable.

And now, Xia Xinran wanted to introduce these friends to him.

“Hello?” Beauty Xia was getting impatient again. “Hello?”

“Just send me the time and place,” Ran Lin finally said.

“That’s more like it.” Xia Xinran was satisfied. “I’ll send you a WeChat once it’s all set.”

Ran Lin was exasperated. “So it’s not set yet?”

Xia Xinran said, “The time is set. The place is still being discussed. The competition for hosting rights is fierce. Two guys are even ready to PK with their house deeds.”

Ran Lin asked, “PK what?”

Xia Xinran explained, “Who has a larger construction area.”

Ran Lin: “……”

After hanging up, Ran Lin thought it over and sent a heart emoji to Xia Xinran.

Xia Xinran replied with a face-holding emoticon, with seven dynamic glowing words on it—The bashful beauty of a glorious era.

As Ran Lin was internally rolling his eyes at the emoticon, his phone rang again. It seemed like his phone had turned into a hotline today.

“Xi Jie.” The caller ID showed it was Wang Xi, and Ran Lin greeted her as he answered.

“Mm.” The voice on the other end didn’t sound very energetic.

Ran Lin frowned slightly and asked proactively, “Xi Jie, is something the matter?”

There was a long silence on the phone before the reply came, “Chronicles of Winter… there might be some changes.”

Ran Lin was stunned, not quite knowing what to say.

“The male lead.” Wang Xi’s voice was low. “The production company might still prefer Han Ze for the role.”

Ran Lin blinked, feeling as if something flashed through his mind but couldn’t quite grasp it.

“Xi Jie, this is the male lead role. Once it’s gone, it’s gone*.” Ran Lin wasn’t sure what he was trying to express. Was it his importance to the role or his inability to accept the sudden change?

*There’s no shop like this after passing this village (过了这个村,就没这个店) Proverb that means opportunities are rare and cannot be missed casually.

“I know.” Wang Xi’s voice sounded troubled. “But the investors have the final say. If they want a change, there’s nothing anyone can do.”

At this point, Ran Lin felt he should just say, “Okay, I understand,” to fit his easy-going nature. Yet, he couldn’t say it; something in his chest felt like it was urging him to fight back, to try one more time.

“Isn’t it the same as last time with Lei Baishi? He didn’t agree with me playing Fang Xian at first, but didn’t he change his mind later? Xi Jie, can you arrange another dinner like last time—let me have one last try? Or ask the director if I can audition. At least give me a chance to compete fairly with Han Ze…”

“Ran Lin,” Wang Xi interrupted him, “it’s already decided. After all, you’ve never carried a leading role; the production company has to consider the risk.”

“But you just said they are leaning towards Han Ze, didn’t you?” Ran Lin’s heart slowly calmed down, vaguely understanding.

In fact, he should have realized right away. When a production company changes a decided role, it’s usually because the newcomer has done better work; it’s not that the investors suddenly have an epiphany while sitting at home.

Wang Xi was silent for a long while before saying, “Maybe we can still fight for the second male lead.”

There was no “we”, only himself. At this moment, Ran Lin could clearly feel the difference in closeness between him and Han Ze in Wang Xi’s eyes.

“No one becomes a male lead overnight. Many have ground away for years in secondary or even smaller roles. You’ve been quite lucky already.”

“Yeah,” Ran Lin replied, no longer pushing, just saying, “I’ll think about it…”

However, Wang Xi seemed somewhat dissatisfied with his response, her tone inadvertently rising. “Now you even have to ‘think’ about taking a secondary role?”

Ran Lin quietly looked at the wall, took a deep breath, and, after a long while, said clearly, “Xi Jie, I really appreciate you getting me this opportunity. If you had offered me the second lead from the start, I would have happily accepted it. But now, under these circumstances, if you offer it to me and I tell you I’m happy, do you think that would be the truth?”

“Xi Jie, you don’t have to worry about me not accepting it. Even if you say the production company leans towards Han Ze,” Ran Lin never thought he would talk to Wang Xi like this, but now that he did, he felt calm and composed, “I am being outcompeted for the role, and I accept it because I understand my place. But I see you as my sister, which is why I’m being honest with you. I’m not happy, and I don’t want to play second to him.”

Wang Xi, who usually didn’t respond well to hard approaches, immediately got upset hearing this. “When did you become so willful? I always thought you were smart, but now look at you, giving up even the secondary role because of some temporary pride. Where’s your sense?”

“So I said I would think about it.” Ran Lin’s tone was full of innocence, patiently explaining to Wang Xi. “The subtext is that I need to settle my feelings about being usurped first, then I can sincerely tell you how much I value this opportunity.”

Wang Xi was left speechless by Ran Lin’s flexibility. You couldn’t say he was being difficult; he was discussing openly with you. You couldn’t say he was illogical; he was selling you his woes, and you couldn’t even call him unreasonable because his logic was clear as he obviously lost his role, which she felt somewhat guilty about.

Between choosing Han Ze or Ran Lin, her answer was almost without hesitation. But looking back, Ran Lin had become harder to handle than when she first took him on, and what was worse, she didn’t think it was a bad thing but rather felt it might be… star-like?

Wang Xi wondered if she might have some misunderstandings about what “star-like” meant.


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