Yu Xingzhou passed by Tang Amei’s son-in-law, nodded slightly in acknowledgment, and returned to Xin Hexue’s side with a plate full of food.
He sat down, a trace of worry in his eyes, “What’s wrong? Did that Zhang Ying come talk to you just now?”
The Zhang Ying Yu Xingzhou was referring to was Tang Amei’s son-in-law.
“Zhang Ying is already dead. What this is now, I don’t know.”
Xin Hexue’s voice was very low, as there were many others keeping vigil around them.
When Yu Xingzhou passed by Zhang Ying moments ago, he didn’t notice anything wrong.
He was still the man with regular features and an average build, completely ordinary, with nothing particularly outstanding.
Xin Hexue described the abnormality of the fish gills growing on Zhang Ying’s face. “There’s also a very old, rotting stench of corpses on him.”
It smelled like when heavy metal pollution erupts, and fish turn belly-up, floating up in rivers one after another…that kind of rotting stench from things dead for a long time.
Yu Xingzhou furrowed his brows, paying attention as he glanced towards the inner hall.
“Did he do anything to you? What did he come to say to you?”
His gaze settled on Xin Hexue, scanning him back and forth a couple of times.
Xin Hexue shook his head and did not answer the latter question.
“In the setting of the Resurgence Of The Strange, some strange beings retain their intelligence. They won’t necessarily actively attack humans, just steer clear of them,” Yu Xingzhou said. “If Zhang Ying didn’t make a move, then try to avoid him. Anyway, your task content lasts until dawn. It will be over once Tang Amei is buried.”
Those novice players who actively provoked strange beings usually didn’t end well.
Xin Hexue lowered his eyes and agreed, “Mhmm.”
While speaking with Yu Xingzhou, he glanced down at his identity card subtly. Currently, there were seven surviving players.
So, one died at Flowers Kindergarten, one died later from jumping off a tall building…probably caused by the Centipede Man crawling on the outside of buildings, and the other one he wasn’t sure about.
He, Gu Mifeng, Yu Xingzhou, and the postman Li Zheng who was eliminated by jumping.
The people he had come into contact with and knew, including himself, numbered only four.
And Gu Mingfeng told him that the first person eliminated at Flowers Kindergarten was someone named Zhuang Hongxin.
Seven people still alive…
The identity of the third person who died was currently unknown.
Was it possible…
That Yu Xingzhou wasn’t Yu Xingzhou?
The real Yu Xingzhou had already died?
The sudden conjecture sent a chill down Xin Hexue’s spine.
Perhaps it was the symptoms of paranoia gradually deepening as the game progressed, so Xin Hexue’s mind was always in chaos, like the roar of tidal waves. His thoughts were uncontrollable, and he couldn’t stop overthinking.
He kept wondering why the little monster said it was hungry precisely when Yu Xingzhou approached him this evening.
And Yu Xingzhou, as an experienced player, actually made the low-level mistake of losing his identity card.
Killing someone and taking over their place…although it didn’t sound very realistic, this was a supernatural dungeon.
Just as he was pondering, a very soft call came from behind.
“Um… are you players too?”
A somewhat cowering young man called out to them.
There were only the three of them in this corner, and it was unusually quiet.
The other guests were all having supper. The mourning band and the performing white lion dance troupe had drawn crowds watching the performance. It was very lively. Comparing the two sides, one was dark and quiet, the other bright and noisy, a stark contrast.
Seeing Xin Hexue nod, the young man let out a sigh of relief as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders.
He wore thick-lensed glasses and a hand-knitted sweater vest over a shirt, a very proper and honest outfit. “My name is Zhong Zhen’an. I’m a player too. Perhaps you have seen Li Zheng? I used to often act together with him before, but he was eliminated later one night by falling from a building.”
“I’m really not good at playing games. The most I’ve played since childhood is Tetris.” Zhong Zhen’an sat down, staring at the candle flame dejectedly. “Since coming here, I’ve been on edge every day. Sometimes I feel like giving up. If I’m going to be eliminated, it might as well kill me quickly.”
Zhong Zhen’an: “I’ve just been talking about myself. What about you? Seeing you still have companions, I really feel relieved.”
Xin Hexue and Yu Xingzhou exchanged a glance and each introduced their names to Zhong Zhen’an.
“Why are you here? What’s your question?”
Xin Hexue asked first.
Zhong Zhen’an: “Find out the truth behind Tang Amei’s death.”
Sure enough, their guess was correct. Tang Amei’s death was not normal. Judging by this question, there was more to the story behind it.
Perhaps because Yu Xingzhou looked like he wasn’t easy to talk to, Zhong Zhen’an looked at Xin Hexue first, offering a friendly, somewhat flattering smile. “What’s yours?”
There was a kind of weary lifelessness about Zhong Zhen’an. Even though he was alive and breathing, he gave the impression he had been dead for a while, like the office workers you might pass by in real life.
“Mine is to “Keep vigil for Tang Amei,” Xin Hexue answered. “…As for Yu Xingzhou, he was accompanying me.”
Yu Xingzhou sat next to Xin Hexue, his arm resting on the back of the chair. It looked as if he had loosely wrapped Xin Hexue in his arms, though his hand wasn’t actually touching Xin Hexue’s body. Faced with the third person suddenly inserting into their two-person world, he again adopted his cool guy persona, saying nothing.
Zhong Zhen’an’s face showed hesitation for a moment, but he still asked, “Do you have any special discoveries?”
“Do you know the well behind the meditation hall?”
Hearing Xin Hexue mention the well, Zhong Zhen’an froze as if struck by lightning. His pupils constricted, and his face turned pale. He was so agitated he seemed to want to grab Xin Hexue’s shoulders, only his hands to stop midair from Yu Xingshou’s stare.
He was like a young, aggressive wolf whose territory had been invaded, his sanbai eyes pierced with a bestial sharpness in the gloomy environment.
…He quickly withdrew his hands, placing them on his thighs and gripping so hard his trousers wrinkled. His lips trembled uncontrollably as he stared fixedly at Xin Hexue: “You…you saw it too?”
“I… My last two questions were both related to this temple, so I’ve been volunteering at the temple recently.”
“Zhang Ying crawled out from that dry well. I saw it.”
Recalling that scene, Zhong Zhen’an’s eyes became dull and filled with fear.
………
The night of vigil passed with nothing happening. It was safe and sound.
In the latter half of the night, Xin Hexue couldn’t hold on anymore and directly fell asleep leaning on Yu Xingzhou’s shoulder.
The mourning cries concluded, and the suona band played the herald for the burial.
Xin Hexue used the temple’s facilities for a simple wash-up. After breakfast later, they could head back.
It was actually the first time he had encountered such a practical question, there was no need to find the answer, just complete the required task to get the ten points.
He used a handkerchief to wipe his face, then bent over to rinse it clean.
The early morning air was fresh, perhaps because they were in the mountains. At six o’clock, with morning mist lingering, everything had a cold, transparent glass-like quality. Taking a deep breath felt like growing orange trees in your lungs.
An orange tree grew by this corner of the wall.
Xin Hexue didn’t particularly like citrus fruits. He disliked their smell.
He heard cats all hate oranges. He didn’t know if it was true, but he wouldn’t say it out loud, otherwise, K would definitely start automatically categorizing him as a cat again.
Speaking of which, he hadn’t seen K for a long time. He seemed to have forgotten what the other party looked like. But it couldn’t be blamed on him, because his system usually appeared in the form of a transparent entity.
He made a joke that would probably shatter K.
Actually, given Xin Hexue’s memory level, he could still clearly remember what he had for dinner last Wednesday…it was He Qinghong’s noodles with gravy, which were better than K’s cooking.
The funeral concluded with a breakfast. Tables were set up in the courtyard one after another, and the food was plentiful.
Zhang Ying said that during these two years stranded in the South Seas, he worked for a boss and saved up some money, which allowed him to return. His mother-in-law’s funeral had to be conducted with pomp, with all rituals complete.
Xin Hexue didn’t have much appetite. Perhaps his body wasn’t used to staying up all night, so the day after lacking sleep, he felt completely listless.
“Can’t eat anything?” Yu Xingzhou said as he scooped some lean meat congee and took an egg, placing them in the bowl and plate in front of Xin Hexue. “You should still eat something. Your health is so poor, don’t get hypoglycemic on the way down the mountain later. I’m not a porter, I won’t carry you down.”
“Do you want soy milk?”
As he asked, he left the table, got a bowl of soy milk, and placed it by Xin Hexue’s side.
Xin Hexue took a sip of the soy milk. It was freshly ground and boiled, with a dense, slightly gritty texture and a layer of sediment at the bottom.
He put down the bowl and slowly began peeling the egg. It was a green-shelled silkie egg.
“The Taoist priest seems to raise silkies on the mountain. Zhang Ying probably bought them from him.”
Yu Xingzhou finished the entire bowl of lean meat congee in a few mouthfuls, then took two sticks of glutinous corn. The speed at which he ate was like a storm sweeping away clouds.
Xin Hexue had just peeled off two small fragments of shell when sticky egg fluid eagerly gushed out, accompanied by a pungent fishy smell.
Seeing what was inside the eggshell, Xin Hexue subconsciously let out a low cry.
Among the plate of silkie eggs, one fertilized egg had been mixed in, and the chick inside had already taken form.
There was a meaty lump with wing-like shapes, deformed in development, and bright red. At a glance, the lump of overripe meat seemed to be pulsating.
A wave of nausea suddenly surged in Xin Hexue’s stomach, and his vision doubled.
Suddenly, people crowded around him. In his eyes, each person split into a shadow, layer upon layer, surrounding him in his seat tightly and densely.
Their voices were sharp and piercing, full of joy.
“Wow, it’s a balut egg!”
“An auspicious good omen!”
“I heard from my mom that if a pregnant woman eats a balut egg, it means mother and child are safe, and she’ll have many children and much happiness!”
Forget many children and much happiness. Just one Xiao Hei was enough to give Xin Hexue a headache, making him suspect he had encountered all the bad luck.
Xin Hexue squeezed out from the crowd and only said to Yu Xingzhou, “I’m not feeling well. I need some air.”
He ran to a quiet corner, one hand supporting himself on a door pillar. The surging nausea in his organs made it somewhat hard to breathe. He struggled to bend over, one hand pressed against his chest.
He retched twice, but nothing came up. Only cold sweat dripped from his forehead onto the ground.
He couldn’t eat the strange “balut egg” in his hand.
He simply fed it to the dog. Anyway, Xiao Hei usually ate garbage, it made no difference.
“Mother is good… Mother is good!”
The little black dog wagged its tail and circled around him, its four black paws taking small steps.
See, even eating garbage, it would still be grateful to its mother.
When it grows up, even if its sold to the black coal mines on the mainland, Xiao Hei would still diligently send Mother its salary every month.
Xin Hexue patted its not-so-smart head and, supporting himself on the pillar, straightened up. He realized he had somehow run to the abandoned meditation hall.
The light was too dim last night, so he had not seen clearly. Now he could see the particles of dust flying in the beams of light.
It was indeed very old.
Someone patted his shoulder from behind.
Xin Hexue thought it was Yu Xingzhou who had chased after him. “I’m fine…”
He turned his head. It wasn’t Yu Xingzhou, nor the Taoist priest. It was a pair of pointed leather shoes.
They were only two centimeters away from the tip of his nose.
Xin Hexue’s breath hitched. He stepped back and looked up. Zhong Zhen’an was hanging there, his eyes wide with terror and still unclosed.
He looked down and quickly flipped out his identity card.
The number of survivors had not refreshed. The number was still seven.
This meant Zhong Zhen’an was the third person. He had been dead all along.
