Author Archives: sandy

Director Mei brought them inside and asked what was going on.

The couple’s names were Xu Tingfeng and Zhou Jinnian.

Xu Tingfeng roughly recounted what had happened years ago.

Not long after their marriage, the two learned they would not be able to have children of their own. They went through several rounds of medical testing and treatment, and afterward decided to leave it up to fate.

They came across Xu Xiyang on their way home from work.

That day it was drizzling. As they were driving past a park, they heard a baby crying.

They rushed out of the car and saw a baby left in a carrier. The child had nothing but the clothes on his body.

They immediately called the police.

Of course, the police were unable to find any information. By regulation, the baby should have been placed in an orphanage. But for some reason, perhaps destiny, the moment the child was taken away from them, he began to cry and no one could soothe him.

The couple used a few connections to bring him home temporarily. Later, everything naturally fell into place — they completed the legal adoption procedures, gave him a name, and became his parents.

Because they had found him when he was still very young, and because they raised him as if he were their own flesh and blood, they never told him the truth.

So when Xu Xiyang saw the video that day, he was stunned.

The couple had sent their son to his grandmother’s house, then hurriedly took leave from work and rushed over.

After hearing the whole story, Director Mei’s attitude toward the couple softened.

When they spoke of their son Xu Xiyang, their faces were filled with unmistakable affection and tenderness.

She said, “For that child to have met you two, he is much luckier than Xingxing.”

She then told the couple about Mu Xing’s background.

The couple had already read much of it on trending news, but what circulated online was just a simplified version — a vague phrase like “abused by adoptive parents.” Hearing the full story from Director Mei was far more shocking.

“When the police first brought him here, he was much thinner than now. So small, he didn’t even look like a ten-year-old child. His body was covered in bruises and welts — all marks from beatings.”

Director Mei sighed. “You can see our conditions here aren’t good. But ever since Xingxing arrived, he has been content every day, always cheerful. Which shows how terrible his life must have been before.”

She looked at them and asked, “What is it you two are here for?”

The couple had already discussed it on their way: “We want to do a DNA test between the two children, to see if they are brothers.”

In truth, they were already almost certain. They looked so alike. The timeline also matched — the year they had found Xiyang and the year the Zhao family picked up Mu Xing were the same, with only a one-day difference.

Still, doing a test would put their minds at ease.

Director Mei then asked, “And after the test?”

Zhou Jinnian hesitated. “If Mu Xing is willing, we would like to adopt him. After all, they are blood brothers. And Xiyang is very curious about him too.”

Director Mei didn’t comment further, only asked, “Would you like to meet little Xingxing?”

Naturally, the couple wanted to — they were deeply curious.

When Mu Xing heard the director calling for him, he didn’t suspect anything. But the moment he walked into the room and saw the two strangers, they lit up with recognition.

Alike.

Far too alike.

If Mu Xing were dressed in Xiyang’s clothes and stood there, at first glance even they would not be able to tell them apart.

At that moment, the couple no longer had any doubts about their blood relation. Unless they were identical twins, how could two faces in the world look so exactly the same?

Zhou Jinnian was the first to stand. She walked over and looked at Mu Xing gently.

Faced with this boy who looked identical to her son, her gaze became instinctively full of motherly affection.

“Little Xingxing, may I call you that? I’m Auntie Zhou. I came after seeing your photo on the trending news. You look very much like someone I know.”

The moment Mu Xing saw them, he already knew who they were.

Though he himself had never met Xu Tingfeng and Zhou Jinnian, the original body’s memories had. Back then they were older, more composed, but overall not much different.

They were the adoptive parents of his blood-related twin brother. And they were truly good people.

He smiled. “Hello, Auntie Zhou.”

If Zhou Jinnian had hesitated before about adopting another child, that hesitation disappeared the moment she saw Mu Xing.

His smile — it was exactly the same as Xiyang’s.

How could she bear to let such a child remain alone in an orphanage?

Still, she didn’t reveal her thoughts or identity immediately. She decided to get to know him slowly, gently, so as not to scare him.

That evening, Zhou Jinnian and Xu Tingfeng found a hotel nearby to stay.

But the next day, no one expected that another pair of uninvited guests would arrive at the orphanage.

When the Xu couple returned, those two people were already there talking with Director Mei.

They mentioned Mu Xing. Director Mei didn’t think much of it, assuming they were like the others, simply interested in adopting him.

She didn’t notice the way the pupils of that man and woman contracted when they saw Xu Tingfeng and Zhou Jinnian.

“Mister Xiang?” Director Mei’s startled call snapped them back to their senses.

Director Mei called once more, then asked, “You just said—what do you think happened to Xingxing?”

The man addressed as Mister Xiang wore glasses, his figure tall and upright, his bearing refined. Once he regained his composure, he looked at Xu Tingfeng and Zhou Jinnian. “And these two are…?”

Director Mei smiled. “This is Mister Xu and Madam Zhou. They also came here for Xingxing. They share quite a special connection with him.”

Hearing this, Xiang Shen immediately understood—these two must have already met with Director Mei. Which meant she likely already knew they had adopted a boy who looked exactly like Mu Xing.

Damn it. How did they find their way here?

The way things had been unfolding lately was already far from what they had intended at the start. But there were things he had to say—he would not give up on this genius child.

Xiang Shen no longer looked at the couple. His expression shifted into sorrow. “To be honest, Dean, I suspect little Xingxing is my biological child.”

The moment those words left his mouth, everyone in the room was shocked.

Xiang Shen pressed on with his lie. “Ten years ago, Weiwei gave birth to twins. But when we went back to our hometown, there was an accident, and both children disappeared…”

His face filled with grief. “All these years, we’ve never stopped searching, but there was never any news. Until this time, when we saw Xingxing’s video trending online. To tell you the truth, he looks very much like my late mother.”

Director Mei froze.

Xu Tingfeng and Zhou Jinnian also froze.

If it weren’t for that one word—twins—perhaps they wouldn’t have been so shaken.

But with that word spoken, they immediately understood the likelihood was extremely high. After all, even they had only just learned days ago that Xiyang might have a twin brother in this world.

If these really were Xiyang’s biological parents…

Their gazes toward Xiang Shen and his wife instantly turned wary.

Xu Tingfeng quietly grasped his wife’s hand, and as expected, her fingertips were ice-cold.

He whispered, “Don’t be afraid.”

Zhou Jinnian softly answered, “Mm.”

She absolutely would not let anyone take Xiyang away so easily.

This couple had never fulfilled a single day of parental duty—why should they?

Director Mei too was left buzzing in her head by the news.

When Mu Xing was called over, he unexpectedly found not only Xu Tingfeng and Zhou Jinnian, but also these strangers.

Before Director Mei could even speak, the boy smiled.

He looked straight at Xiang Shen and his wife. “I’ve seen you before.”

Something about the smile struck Xiang Shen as odd, but when he looked closer, nothing seemed amiss.

Thinking quickly, he followed the boy’s lead. “That’s right. Earlier this year we came to Donghai City on some personal matters. I still remember you—a very beautiful child. It seems fate keeps bringing us together.”

Mu Xing shook his head. “Not just once.”

Xiang Shen stiffened.

Mu Xing counted on his fingers. “I remember clearly. I’ve seen you six or seven times. Sometimes just one of you, sometimes both together.”

Director Mei laughed. “What nonsense are you talking about? How could you have seen them so many times?”

Mu Xing widened his eyes and insisted, “I’m sure. I have a really good memory. Once I meet someone, I don’t forget.”

His certainty made even Director Mei hesitate. And in her heart, a doubt arose: this man claimed he only realized Xingxing looked like his mother after seeing him online. But if they had already met before—could he really not have noticed the resemblance at first sight?

Xiang Shen hadn’t expected Mu Xing to remember so clearly.

He and his wife truly had come to Donghai City many times, checking on the two children at intervals to see how they were. But he never thought Mu Xing would have noticed them every time—and remembered!

His mind raced, but his face stayed calm. “Is that so? I do have a few friends here, I’ve come several times. But I don’t recall meeting you, child.”

Mu Xing gave him a look far too adult for his age, as if to say “your memory is terrible,” then shook his head and sighed. “Alright, if you say we haven’t met, then we haven’t.”

The others laughed at his cute little expression.

But in Xiang Shen and his wife’s hearts, unease grew.

Mu Xing lifted his head toward Director Mei. “Director Mama, why did you call me here?”

Director Mei hesitated, then said, “This Mister Xiang, and this Auntie Zhu, say you might be their child.”

Xiang Shen studied Mu Xing’s reaction.

But the boy simply looked at them and said calmly, “Oh.”

That was it?

Xiang Shen glanced at his wife.

She said gently, “Xingxing, it’s because your mom and dad came too late.” She stepped forward, wanting to hug him.

Mu Xing took a step back.

He tilted his head, speaking seriously. “No need to rush. I read in books that to prove family relations, you need to do a paternity test, right?”

His voice stayed calm. “Once the relationship is confirmed, then we can talk about why I was left in a trash heap back then.”

From the moment he heard their words until now, he had remained so composed it was nothing like a child at all.

❣╰(⸝⸝⸝꒳⸝⸝⸝)╯❣

This episode of Donghai TV went viral online.

Originally, this program was already quite popular in Donghai City, but the viewers were usually local uncles and aunties. Young people weren’t interested, and it barely made a splash on the internet.

But the welfare home interview with Mu Xing was simply too outstanding.

Many students on summer break, chatting with their parents in the living room at night, happened to see this show—happened to see Mu Xing…

Then they completely forgot about chatting.

That very night, countless people’s social media in Donghai City was flooded with posts about this excessively beautiful little genius living in the welfare home.

On Weibo, people started sharing, and one topic trended on the hot search:

#TheGapBetweenMeAndAGenius#

Clicking in, there was a clip from the interview.

Geniuses are rare enough, but if this little genius also happens to look like a delicate, manga-style bishounen stepping out of fiction into reality?

And soon, local Donghai netizens added background: this child, Mu Xing, was abandoned by his biological parents in a trash heap, and then abused by his adoptive parents. Only after those scum were sentenced did he enter the welfare home.

He had suffered so much, and yet in front of the camera he didn’t show even a hint of gloom or resentment.

Instead, he was the little sun of the welfare home.

The very definition of beautiful, strong, and tragic!

Netizens instantly began both cheering for the genius and crying over his backstory.

[This kid I know—he’s in my daughter’s class. My daughter said he’s always ranked first in the school exams. Didn’t expect his background to be so tragic.]

[His biological parents and adoptive parents???? If I had such an outstanding child, I’d burn incense at the ancestors’ graves in gratitude! What kind of scum are those two sets of parents? Lock them up forever.]

[As a useless slacker I can only wonder how top students’ brains grow… I’ve been memorizing “Song of Everlasting Regret” for a week and still can’t get it down, wuwuwu.]

The buzz kept spreading.

At a violin tutoring class in Changping City, someone suddenly cried out, “Xiyang, Xiyang, quick look! Isn’t this you?”

The boy resting nearby raised his head. His face was exactly the same as the “little genius” trending online.

The classmate who called his name compared carefully again and confirmed: “No mistake! It’s really identical!”

He handed the phone to Xu Xiyang.

At first, Xu Xiyang thought his classmate was joking, but the moment he saw the screen, he froze.

He skipped class, went home in a daze, his mind in chaos.

Meanwhile, in another city, a couple also saw the hot search.

The woman widened her eyes in shock: “How could this be? We’ve only missed seeing him for a short time, and he’s already in a welfare home? And… was he always this smart?”

The man had already rewatched the interview video several times. When he looked back at his wife, his eyes were full of delight and excitement: “His personality has changed dramatically. Probably because of a different environment. The talent he’s showing now far surpasses what he ever had before—and far surpasses his twin brother.”

“We’ve cultivated a genius! Even if we don’t understand how such a mutation occurred, our experiment has already gone beyond the point of meaning. The talent Mu Xing is displaying can no longer be limited by environment.”

His expression carried a kind of fanaticism: “A child accidentally abandoned by his biological parents, rediscovered years later through a news broadcast—that’s a storyline many people will love.”

…

Director Mei had been especially busy lately.

Ever since Mu Xing’s interview went viral online, more and more people had reached out to the welfare home.

Many kindhearted people donated a lot of supplies.

But even more came asking about Mu Xing.

In just two days, she had already received dozens of calls. Most offered to sponsor all of Mu Xing’s expenses until adulthood.

Five or six couples even expressed their desire to adopt him.

After asking Mu Xing, Director Mei politely turned them all down.

Mu Xing made it clear: he didn’t want to leave the welfare home.

But Director Lin also came.

And he brought two people with him.

A middle-aged couple, around forty, warm and gentle in temperament, clearly well-off by their attire.

As soon as Director Lin saw Director Mei, he laughed heartily: “Director Mei, where’s little Xingxing? I must thank him properly!”

He hadn’t expected Mu Xing to mention his amusement park in the interview, but the effect had been tremendous.

Just yesterday, reporters had come riding the trend to interview him.

Of course, though they claimed to be interviewing the amusement park, most of their questions were about the welfare home.

Director Lin understood the situation well. That child was so grateful, keeping every little kindness in mind. Naturally, he reciprocated—he carefully shared what he had seen and learned, praised Hope Welfare Home to the skies, and even showed the reporters many photos from that day.

In fact, many locals in Donghai who saw the news were moved:

[Good Friends Amusement Park? I used to beg my dad to take me there when I was little—it’s still around?]

[I remember it was one of the earliest amusement parks in Donghai City. It felt so new and exciting back then, but later I never went again.]

[That was my childhood dream! Every time I placed top ten in exams, my reward was going to Good Friends Amusement Park!]

“Xingxing is really wonderful, and the director too. I’m planning to take my child there for a visit.”

“Planning to check out Good Friends Amusement Park +1.”

In the past two days, Good Friends Amusement Park’s visitor numbers had suddenly surged, and Director Lin of course knew the reason why.

After a few pleasantries, Director Lin suddenly said, “Director Mei, these are the friends I mentioned to you before, the couple Han Shan and Li Mengyu.”

The two warmly shook hands with Director Mei.

Director Mei knew their purpose and sighed inwardly. “Xingxing is in the classroom playing with the children, I’ll let you have a chat.”

Every time she met couples who wanted to adopt, her feelings were always a mix of reluctance and joy.

Reluctance, because she had already developed deep feelings for the children she had cared for so long.

But she was very clear in her heart: what the orphanage could provide the children was far too limited.

If they could meet a kind couple to become their parents, the children’s future would be much brighter and more secure.

Li Mengyu handed Director Mei a file folder and politely said, “Director, these are some basic details about Han Shan and me — health status, financial situation, everything we’ve prepared in advance. Please have a look?”

This kind of information was not something that could be prepared in just a day or two, which showed how serious and sincere the Han couple were. They had thought about it carefully and thoroughly, unlike many others who simply saw Mu Xing’s “talent” and approached with the mindset of treating him as some sort of rare commodity.

Director Mei held the documents against her chest, smiled, and said, “Alright, please go on in.”

*

Mu Xing and the Han couple talked for nearly an hour. No one went in to disturb them, and apart from those three, no one knew what exactly had been said.

When Li Mengyu came out, her face still carried a trace of regret.

She truly liked this child Mu Xing.

Not only was she someone who especially loved children in general, but a well-behaved, smart, and sensible child like Mu Xing — what adult wouldn’t like him?

But ultimately, it all depended on the child’s wishes. It could only be said that fate didn’t bring them together.

Suddenly, her calf felt a weight.

Startled, she looked down, and to her surprise, a little dumpling of a boy had appeared out of nowhere, hugging her leg and grinning up at her.

He only had a few teeth, but when he smiled wide, he looked carefree, like a little angel.

Li Mengyu’s heart melted instantly. She carefully squatted down, steadying the toddler who could barely walk, and gently asked, “Little one, why are you holding onto Auntie’s leg?”

Little Jin beamed. “Pre… pretty Auntie!”

Li Mengyu laughed, teasing, “So little, and you already know how to compliment Auntie. Such a sweet mouth…”

“Little Jin!” A boy about ten years old ran over from the hallway, visibly relieved when he saw them.

He rushed over, murmured a quick apology to Li Mengyu, bent down to scoop up the little dumpling, and softly scolded, “I told you not to run around. No one was watching here — what if you fell?”

Little Jin was already at the age where he could hold simple conversations, and he knew his brother was scolding him. But he was naturally good-tempered, always smiling at everyone. Even when being told off, he wasn’t upset. Instead, he happily rubbed his face against his older brother’s.

After a couple of rubs, the older boy couldn’t stay stern anymore. He stopped muttering and carried him back inside.

Li Mengyu also overheard bits of their conversation:

“I help them save spots for lunch in class, fifty cents each time. I’ve saved up some money so when Little Jin’s birthday comes, we can have a cake…”

*

Later that evening, Hope Orphanage welcomed another pair of visitors.

They were a younger couple, soft-spoken and gentle, saying they wanted to meet Mu Xing.

Director Mei politely said, “The children are about to have dinner.”

It wasn’t really appropriate to let strangers in so late, especially when the place was full of kids.

The bespectacled young man grew anxious. “My wife and I saw the news and came straight from Changping City early this morning. We know it’s abrupt, but we’re truly restless and couldn’t wait any longer.”

He took out his phone and handed it to Director Mei. “Please, take a look at this.”

Director Mei glanced at the screen — and her expression froze.

It was a family portrait.

A refined man and a gentle woman sat side by side, and in front of them stood a boy with delicate features.

What shocked Director Mei was that although the boy looked a little younger, his eyebrows and eyes were exactly the same as Xingxing’s!

She stared at the couple in disbelief. “You…”

Were they Xingxing’s biological parents?

Her face instantly grew serious. She hadn’t forgotten what those scumbag adoptive parents had once said — that they had found the boy in a garbage dump!

Realizing her possible misunderstanding, the man shook his head. “No, you misunderstand. We also adopted a child ten years ago. When we saw the news online, we came here specially to find out what exactly is going on.”

❣╰(⸝⸝⸝꒳⸝⸝⸝)╯❣

Hearing this, Fu Qing immediately opened the system panel.

Though she appeared relaxed, she had actually been monitoring the situation the entire time. After checking again, she confirmed that all two thousand-plus students were still moving obediently within the designated exam boundaries.

No one had sent a distress signal, and no wristband had issued an automatic alert for abnormal life signs.

From the data alone, everything looked normal.

If anything was wrong, it could only be something Lu Yan had sensed through instinct during his repeated trips into the mountains.

While Fu Qing stared at the floating panel, Lu Yan waited quietly. He seemed to understand she possessed certain secrets, yet neither cared nor wished to pry.

Only after her gaze returned to him did he ask softly, “Didn’t find anything?”

Fu Qing shook her head and silently asked him to explain.

Lu Yan frowned. “Honestly, I don’t know either. I just keep feeling like… during all those trips back and forth, I overlooked something.”

Five students were still nearby. Translated on Hololo novels. The ones who had been poisoned earlier had recovered somewhat after medication and rest. Since they had already scored zero on the unified exam anyway, they quickly recovered emotionally and wandered over to watch out of boredom.

Hearing Instructor Lu admit he “didn’t know,” they exchanged glances.

—Instinct? Was that reliable?

If it was instinct, why hadn’t they noticed anything?

Fu Qing and Hao Zhenye said nothing. People who frequently walked the line between life and death trusted instinct deeply.

Because sometimes it was not mystical intuition, but the senses detecting danger before rational thought could process it.

As for why the students noticed nothing… they were simply too inexperienced.

Seeing Lu Yan still deep in thought, Fu Qing stopped waiting and quietly followed the path he had taken earlier, heading deeper into the forest.

Snow beneath her feet compacted into clear footprints trailing behind her.

They overlapped precisely with the tracks left when the two had returned earlier.

The campfire Xu Mingyue had used for hot pot still burned faintly. Hao Zhenye periodically gathered branches from the forest, brushed off the snow, and left them to dry before adding them to the fire. The flickering light filtered through the trees, allowing Fu Qing to study the footprints carefully.

One set had evenly spaced steps, some partially overwritten by later prints, clearly belonging to the person walking ahead in long strides. The other staggered, drifting sideways every few steps before being dragged back onto the path.

—the “unknown force” was obviously Lu Yan’s peculiar rope.

Following the tracks, Fu Qing walked farther back. The nighttime forest was utterly silent. Students moved in groups of four for safety, but the principal walked alone without hesitation, as calmly as if strolling through her own backyard.

After nearly five hundred meters, she suddenly stopped.

The campfire’s light no longer reached this far. She took out a spare teacher wristband from the system space and activated the flashlight, directing the beam toward the base of a tree.

The tree stood tall and imposing, its canopy dense enough to block the sky. Its trunk was thick enough that a person could barely encircle it with both arms. At its roots lay a small, barely noticeable pile of loose snow.

Most people would never have noticed it while passing by.

Fu Qing looked up.

Several branches a few meters above showed patches where snow was missing, clearly disturbed by someone stepping there.

A chilling possibility formed in her mind.

When Lu Yan and the student had passed earlier, someone had been standing in that tree.

Hidden among dense branches, silently watching the teacher and student walk by.

Perhaps falling snow shaken loose by breathing, or a faint rustle of leaves, had triggered Lu Yan’s instinct. But the disturbance had been too subtle for him to detect the person directly.

Fu Qing narrowed her eyes, gazing toward the dark mountains lying in wait ahead.

*

“You’re saying… there’s someone else in this mountain?”

Lu Yan repeated Fu Qing’s conclusion. The five students’ eyes widened as they instinctively huddled together.

Someone hiding several meters up in a tree did not sound like normal human behavior. Could it be some escaped lunatic?

Hao Zhenye’s expression turned serious. After thinking, he suggested, “Could it be a simulated zombie?”

Simulated zombies could climb trees, and since they were programmed to attack only students, it was possible one would silently watch Lu Yan, a teacher, leave.

Fu Qing shook her head. “There are too many students constantly changing positions, so I can’t memorize them all. But there are only a limited number of simulated zombies. I check the map periodically. I’m certain none passed through that location within the last hour.”

It clearly was not a student either. The situation was too strange.

Few hunters or villagers entered the mountains during winter. Even if someone did, who would sit hidden in a tree for no reason?

Snow had been falling intermittently over the past days, and fresh snowfall quickly erased traces on branches. That meant the person had left only recently.

After eliminating other possibilities, one answer surfaced almost immediately in Fu Qing’s mind.

—the Devout Believers.

Accustomed to hiding in darkness, moving strangely and unpredictably, harboring intense hostility toward her. Only they fit all these conditions.

【Host, should we issue an announcement canceling the assessment?】

The system, worried about student safety before the apocalypse even began, asked cautiously.

Fu Qing was about to agree when her thoughts shifted, and she rejected the idea internally.

“Not yet. They don’t know they’ve been exposed. Calling students back now would alert them. I’ll first see what they intend to do.”

Her advantage lay in being able to contact all two thousand-plus students instantly through wristbands. If danger escalated, she could change plans immediately.

Besides, after two months without any trace of the Devout Believers, letting them escape now after finally revealing themselves would be a waste.

Having decided, Fu Qing explained her suspicions briefly to the two teachers and quickly drafted a message.

【All Notice: Warning. Unknown individuals detected in the forest. Threat level and numbers currently unknown. Assessment objectives are temporarily modified. All students must follow wristband instructions. Form squads of four, with five squads combining into one large unit. Operate only within designated zones and maintain constant communication with teammates while awaiting further instructions.

Priority one is personal safety. Report immediately upon encountering danger or suspicious individuals. Await instructions before taking action. Do not take unnecessary risks.】

The notice was sent simultaneously to all student and teacher wristbands. Lu Yan and Hao Zhenye immediately understood Fu Qing’s intention.

“West Mountain is huge. Our current position is nearly the center of the exam area,” Lu Yan said, quickly pulling up the map.

While sending the notice, Fu Qing had already assigned team structures individually. Nearby squads quietly merged into larger groups while remaining in their original zones. To outside observers, nothing appeared different, yet alliances had silently formed.

Four-person squads combined into twenty-person groups. Across more than two thousand students, the mountain range was rapidly wrapped in an airtight net.

Less than five minutes after the announcement was issued, such a precise and concealed trap had already taken shape.

This was the advantage created by the communication network of the student wristbands.

“If that person was near us not long ago, then in such a short time, they definitely couldn’t have escaped the exam boundary,” Lu Yan analyzed. “No matter which direction they go, they’ll run into students. If you gradually have the squads at the perimeter move inward and tighten the encirclement, the chances of capturing them increase. You want the students to try apprehending them?”

With more than two thousand people moving through the forest simultaneously, their movements were already difficult to track. Translated on Hololo novels. And unlike Fu Qing, the other party did not possess a god’s-eye view of student locations.

They would only realize something was wrong after noticing they were encountering students more and more frequently.

By then, it would probably already be too late.

Fu Qing shook her head. “No. We don’t know their numbers or abilities. Students can only attempt containment. I don’t want them confronting these people head-on this early.”

She had fought Skull before and knew how dangerous it was. Unlike ordinary zombies, it possessed intelligence, and its strength, speed, and senses were greatly enhanced.

Although the students’ physical fitness and combat skills had improved over the semester, their training focus remained on survival rather than combat. As principal, no one understood better than Fu Qing that most Fangzhou students still lacked the ability to directly fight zombified humans.

If fully prepared, that would be one thing. But in unfamiliar mountain terrain, simply protecting themselves was already fortunate enough.

Hao Zhenye spoke up. “But what if there are too many of them…”

“Then we’ll just have to work harder,” Fu Qing said, glancing around with genuine relief. “Good thing it wasn’t Bai Tang or Zhao Yunxiao who came. Those two are practically willows in the wind.”

As for Granny Liu, Fu Qing had already removed her from the combat roster entirely.

Hao Zhenye: “……”

Was it really appropriate to roast people like that in front of students?

He said nothing more, silently pulled a military knife from his pocket, checked it, and slid it back into place behind his waist.

They had all brought weapons for proctoring in case of accidents, originally expecting threats like wild boars. None had anticipated facing something far more unsettling lurking in the forest.

The five students who had been brought back listened to the entire discussion and finally understood what was happening. One seized the moment and asked quietly, “Principal, Instructor Lu, Instructor Hao… are you going to capture those people?”

“Are they the early-virus carriers you’ve been searching for?”

“Then we…”

Fu Qing assumed they were worried about being left vulnerable in camp after the teachers departed and was about to reassure them when the girl continued anxiously:

“…is there anything we can help with?”

Fu Qing paused.

Another student stretched his arms. “Yeah, my stomach doesn’t hurt that much anymore. I can help search.”

“Same here.”

The students who had just been groaning moments ago suddenly sprang back to life.

Fu Qing looked at their pale lips, amused. Before she could respond, Lu Yan suddenly appeared behind her like a ghost, expression dark, voice cool.

“Did I say you were allowed to get up?”

The four students froze.

Another boy with a sprained ankle hopped over from behind Lu Yan, unaware of the terrifying expression. “Principal, I could act as bait. I look easy to attack with this injury. You could ambush nearby and—whoa!”

Before anyone realized what happened, he pitched forward headfirst toward the ground, only to be caught mid-fall by Lu Yan.

Only Fu Qing clearly saw what happened. As the boy hopped closer on one leg, someone had quietly extended a foot at exactly the right moment, tripping the unfortunate victim, then calmly retracting it as if nothing had happened.

A medic’s duty was simple: as long as they themselves could still move, no injured person who should be resting would be allowed onto the battlefield.

As for how to make injured patients stay put… that was not something outsiders needed to know.

The four food-poisoned students swallowed hard and finally understood the consequences of ignoring medical advice.

“That’s about time,” Fu Qing suddenly said after checking the time.

At that moment, rustling sounded from the surrounding forest as more than a dozen figures emerged, startling the five students.

Looking closer, they were all Fangzhou students.

“These fifteen are assigned to your team. They’ll ensure your safety,” Fu Qing explained.

The fifteen had deliberately smeared dirt and leaves across their clothes and faces to look battered. Some clutched their stomachs, others limped as they converged from different directions.

“For this unified exam, a total of twenty-one Fangzhou students are unable to continue due to injury. One has been sent to the hospital for food poisoning. The rest will remain here awaiting the exam’s end and return together. Understood?”

Fu Qing’s expression shifted instantly into official authority.

“Understood!” everyone replied reflexively. Only afterward did a warm feeling quietly spread through their chests.

“Injured students remain here and rest. Instructor Lu, Instructor Hao,” Fu Qing continued briskly, assigning tasks. “Divide the exam area into three sectors centered on this location. Each of us covers one. I’ll synchronize student updates to your wristbands.”

“If you encounter Devout Believers, capture them alive if possible. They won’t show mercy. Prioritize your own safety.”

Fu Qing did not know whether hired teachers could be re-recruited if they died again, or whether they would disappear completely from this world.

Though she and the teachers were technically already dead, she had no intention of risking it, nor losing companions again.

Lu Yan and Hao Zhenye voiced no objections. They listened quietly, noting especially her phrase “if possible.”

The students, though experienced through simulation pods, were facing real enemies for the first time. Translated on Hololo novels. Anxiety was inevitable.

Yet watching their calm principal and teachers discussing strategy, the tension in their hearts gradually settled.

As long as they were here, it felt like nothing truly frightening could happen.

“What comes next should be much easier for you than teaching,” Fu Qing said.

She drew the dagger strapped to her thigh, spun it lightly in her hand, and when she looked up, the sharpness in her eyes gleamed brilliantly.

“Let’s move.”

*

The clouds parted, revealing bright moonlight.

Fu Qing bent low as she passed through a patch of shrubs, her shadow nearly merging with the trees behind her.

To avoid exposure, she kept her flashlight off. Under moonlight, visibility improved greatly, benefiting both her and the other teachers. In darkness she had relied on occasional system prompts to navigate, while Lu Yan and Hao Zhenye were likely still waiting for student updates.

Although her plan had seemed meticulous when issued, Fu Qing still could not understand how the Devout Believers had found her.

And more importantly, how had they known Fangzhou would hold a school-wide exam on West Mountain today?

Her first thought was that someone inside the school had leaked information.

But the exam had been announced only that day. External workers like garbage collectors had already gone on holiday before the New Year and could not have learned of it in time.

The possibility of students or teachers leaking information was dismissed immediately.

All Fangzhou students had been screened by the system and then screened again during entrance assessments. Their character and loyalty were reliable. Nearly half a year of observation had only strengthened Fu Qing’s trust.

As for the idea that a Devout Believer had been surveilling Fangzhou long-term and simply followed the large student movement into the mountains, she considered it briefly and found it unlikely as well.

Each time she returned to the school, Fu Qing would repeatedly confirm that no one was following her. As for why the body disposal site had been discovered so quickly last time, she suspected the secret lay with Skull.

There was likely some unknown connection between the Zombie King and the zombies it assimilated, something outsiders did not understand.

Fangzhou, however, was different. It remained under the system’s protection at all times and theoretically should not have been so easy to locate.

So how had the information leaked?

It could not possibly all be coincidence. Had the other party simply happened to be active on West Mountain and just happened to run into Lu Yan?

Avoiding dry branches on the ground, Fu Qing stepped onto softer snow nearby, moving swiftly and silently while her thoughts continued racing.

She could not figure it out.

An information gap meant a potential disadvantage in confronting the Devout Believers, and the realization left her faintly irritated.

…

Meanwhile.

After receiving the notice, the four members of Dorm 1111 followed the principal’s instructions, pretending the assessment was still ongoing and continuing their activities as usual.

Before this, they had already set up camp and successfully caught two fish from a still-unfrozen stream to fill their stomachs. Shen Qingqing had grown up in the countryside and was far more skilled at handling raw fish and meat than the others. Compared to most students, the four of them had eaten quite well that evening.

If not for this sudden incident, they would likely have passed the assessment with high scores, so all four now simmered with frustration.

Zhang Han was especially furious. She had unfortunately failed her physical training exam this semester and had finally hoped to balance her GPA by riding her roommates’ coattails for a high score, only for that so-called Devout Believer to ruin everything.

Squatting in a patch of bushes, still grumbling, she suddenly saw the half-person-tall shrub in front of her tremble.

A rabbit? A pheasant?

It couldn’t be a wild boar… right?

Remembering Shen Qingqing’s earlier rundown of edible wildlife on West Mountain, Zhang Han immediately grew alert and fell silent, pulling a small hand axe from behind her back.

The “simple tool kit” permitted by the principal contained tools students were already familiar with. Song Rushuang preferred a military knife, while Zhang Han, stronger by nature, excelled with the hand axe. It could chop wood or people alike, versatile in every way.

She recalled the earlier announcement.

The principal had said the assessment objectives were temporarily changed, but never said they wouldn’t change back. Maybe once the danger passed, their previous performance would still count?

Clinging to a struggling student’s hopeful optimism, she decided to hunt extra prey as proof. She softened her steps, held her breath, and carefully pushed aside the brush.

A flash of white light streaked toward her.

Behind the bushes was not the fuzzy outline of an animal, but a blade slashing straight at her face.

…

Lou Han had been watching the girl for quite some time.

Unlike the other three in her group, she looked the weakest. Whenever they moved together, the others subtly kept her protected in the center.

The blonde girl aside, the other two hunters carried an unusual presence. He did not know why two young female students felt so battle-hardened, but Lou Han trusted his instincts.

After repeated consideration, he chose the big-eyed girl as his first target.

Phoenix had said their mission tonight was to kill as many students as possible. Even if killing proved impossible, they were to leave them severely injured, unable to function normally for at least half a year.

After observing all night, Lou Han concluded that compared to tall male students moving in groups, these girls were clearly easier prey.

He deliberately made noise, and as expected, the girl took the bait, approaching with wide, harmless eyes, curiosity and excitement written across her face…

Now!

Lou Han drew his dagger decisively. The blade cut through the cold air and reached the girl in an instant.

But the excitement on her face suddenly shifted to surprise, followed immediately by… anger?

Why wasn’t she afraid?

Lou Han hesitated for half a beat, and in that instant the girl rolled sideways with astonishing speed and an utterly inelegant maneuver.

Lou Han: “?!”

“I’ve trained for half a year on how to run away, you think I’m joking?! Trying to assassinate me? Shameless!” the supposedly harmless Zhang Han shouted, then immediately twisted around and bolted, projecting her voice from deep in her diaphragm as she ran. “Qingqing! Xiao shuang! Weiwei! Help meeeee!!!”

Her cry for help instantly echoed through the forest.

Practiced, as if this exact scenario had happened countless times before.

Lou Han: “…???”

His mind blanked.

Out of the corner of his eye, three girls brandishing blades were already charging toward him with murderous momentum.

₊˚.🎧📓✩

Next

Unlike ordinary universities, Fangzhou’s final exams stretched across a long period and demanded heavy physical exertion. All exams were packed into a single week, placing enormous strain on both body and mind. By the time students finished, they looked as though they had shed an entire layer of themselves.

After all subjects concluded, the campus fell eerily quiet for two full days. Even the cafeteria during mealtimes was unusually silent. People stared blankly as they shoveled food into their mouths. Some chewed slower and slower with rice still in their mouths, suddenly jolting awake, clearly on the verge of falling asleep mid-meal.

Only after resting through the weekend did everyone finally recover.

Makeup exams at Fangzhou were scheduled after the holiday, requiring those who failed to return one week early. So once finals ended, there was temporarily nothing left to do on campus.

Some students packed their luggage. Others booked simulation zombie training sessions for extra practice. Out-of-town students arranged shopping trips together to buy local specialties from S City. The atmosphere had clearly shifted into early holiday celebration mode.

Amid the lively bustle, everyone’s wristbands suddenly vibrated simultaneously.

【Schoolwide Announcement: Please assemble at the training field in one hour for a unified campus assessment. Late arrival or absence will result in deduction of regular performance points.】

Students: “?”

Students shopping downtown: “???”

This sudden?!

Sales clerks who had been enthusiastically pitching products blinked in confusion as the students standing before them seemed to vanish instantly.

In the distance, only the sight of figures fleeing while carrying armfuls of shopping bags remained.

Sales clerk: “……”

She rubbed her eyes and muttered, “Was that… the city track team out buying New Year supplies?”

*

One hour later, the entire student body assembled on the training field.

Because there had been no time to change clothes, outfits varied wildly. When Fu Qing arrived, she immediately spotted several students proudly standing in northeastern floral padded jackets and fur coats, while nearby girls wearing short skirts with trench coats and tall boots shivered uncontrollably.

At first glance, it looked like multiple seasons mixed together.

Well… freshman fashion. Perfectly normal.

She withdrew her gaze, walked past the students who had fully unleashed themselves the moment break began, and stepped onto the podium at the front of the field.

Adjusting the microphone, she spoke without preamble into the sudden silence.

“Do you see West Mountain behind you?”

All heads turned in unison, then turned back.

Nods.

“The temporary unified assessment is as follows: without bringing any food or water, and carrying only a tent and a basic tool kit, proceed to West Mountain and survive there for twenty-four hours. Team formation is allowed, but each team may have no more than four people.”

The field erupted into noise.

Fu Qing added calmly, “You have five minutes to return to your dorms and change out of your fur coats.”

The uproar vanished instantly. In less than thirty seconds, the entire field emptied, leaving behind only a few abandoned shoes scattered on the ground, victims of someone’s hurried escape.

Fu Qing found this deeply satisfying.

After one semester, Fangzhou’s students had clearly adapted to a militarized lifestyle.

Her gaze shifted toward the distant snow-covered mountain.

During finals week, she had personally gone to West Mountain with a tent, spending two days scouting the area to ensure no overly dangerous predators were present before officially designating it as the assessment site.

This test primarily evaluated survival skills.

Winter was the harshest season in an apocalypse. Edible plants and animals decreased, daylight shortened, and severe weather worsened conditions. Translated on Hololo novels. In northern cities especially, countless people had died during the first winter simply because they lacked sufficient fuel.

With only one winter remaining before the apocalypse, she needed to help students accumulate real winter survival experience as quickly as possible.

Five minutes later, everyone stood ready.

They would hike roughly an hour to reach the mountain’s base, then split up from there.

By her calculations, they would arrive around five in the afternoon, leaving just over an hour of daylight to find suitable locations and set up tents.

The timing was precise.

“For this assessment, twenty zombies have been released into the mountain area. All are intermediate-level zombies capable of climbing and possessing night vision. Each successful kill grants five bonus points to all participants involved in the hunt.”

“There are no further rules. Survive twenty-four hours, and the exam ends. Please remember, this is not a full simulation. This is the real world.”

Fu Qing explained briefly, emphasizing the final sentence.

Everyone’s expressions sharpened as they responded in unison.

“Yes!”

She nodded and signaled them to depart.

Their wristbands provided maps to ensure they could reach the destination without instructors leading them, but once they entered West Mountain, map functions would temporarily deactivate until the assessment concluded.

The large group departed the school in a vast procession. After half a year of training, everyone had undergone visible transformation, most obvious in their eyes.

Passersby along the way could not help staring.

Fu Qing was not worried about sending students alone into West Mountain. With more than two thousand people together, they already resembled an immature but functional army. Before heading out to supervise, however, she had other matters to handle.

She stepped down from the podium. Six teachers she had summoned earlier waited in a corner of the field.

“With over two thousand students taking an off-campus exam, I can’t manage alone. I need at least three proctors,” Fu Qing said. “Volunteers will receive five teaching points each as compensation. Anyone interested?”

She was not exaggerating. On campus, the system allowed her to monitor every student’s movements. Outside school grounds, however, it could only track locations, not actions.

If emergencies occurred, she would need assistance.

As for why she was not using full simulation: first, relying too heavily on simulations blurred the boundary between virtual and reality; second, West Mountain was resource-rich and close to campus, so familiarizing students with real terrain would only benefit them.

And third… it saved points.

Before she finished speaking, Lu Yan had already begun raising his hand.

Fu Qing gently pressed her palm downward, politely signaling him to stop.

“The school doctor must accompany the group. You don’t get to volunteer.”

Lu Yan: “…?”

Another five teaching points saved. Ever thrifty, Fu Qing looked at the remaining teachers with satisfaction.

Although system rules prevented teachers from leaving campus, Fu Qing could exploit a loophole. By transferring teaching points to them and letting them use the points themselves, she could activate the function 【Allow Teacher to Leave Campus for One Hour】 and bring them outside legally.

Grandma Liu obviously could not go and had only come to watch the excitement. Bai Tang disliked going outdoors and had little interest in the proctoring fee, which was equivalent to nearly five months of her salary.

Zhao Yunxiao hesitated the most. Though tempted by the five-hour opportunity to leave campus, he felt his fragile physique might not survive even one winter night in the mountains, let alone a full day and night of proctoring. With regret, he declined.

In the end, only Hao Zhenye volunteered.

Xu Mingyue glanced at the remaining elderly, weak, and infirm group and casually raised her hand as well.

With three proctors decided, Fu Qing told them to prepare and set out officially in half an hour.

*

The four-member proctor team drove out and arrived at roughly the same time as the students.

For convenience, Fu Qing had the system upload student locations to the three teachers’ wristbands. On the display, dense clusters of blue dots scattered into the vast mountains like grains of sand sinking into the sea, quickly spreading far apart.

West Mountain was actually a continuous mountain range covering more than four hundred square kilometers. Only a small portion had been developed into scenic areas and resorts. The section near Fangzhou contained only a few households at the base; higher up lay completely undeveloped wilderness.

Fortunately, the elevation was not high and no large predators roamed there. After the apocalypse began, even inexperienced civilians had dared venture into the mountains, sustaining countless desperate citizens.

The exam boundary had been marked by Fu Qing. Students would not go too deep, and if they crossed the safety line, their wristbands would issue warnings directing them back.

With the system’s support, supervision was relatively easy.

Fu Qing parked the car in the courtyard of an abandoned house and led the three others up the mountain on foot.

After about an hour of walking, Xu Mingyue found a suitable campsite. She instructed Lu Yan and Hao Zhenye to pitch the tents. Two men and two women meant two tents were sufficient.

“This spot is close to a water source. Many students will probably camp upstream or downstream, which also makes responding to emergencies easier,” Xu Mingyue explained.

Unlike students, teachers were allowed to carry food and water. When Hao Zhenye returned after setting up the tent, he saw Xu Mingyue already hanging a large pot over the campfire. Once the water boiled, she tossed in a packet of hot pot base, then skillfully pulled out colorful rolls of beef and lamb from her backpack and dumped them into the pot without hesitation. Finally, she threw in three blocks of noodles with loud clunks.

The pot was packed completely full. Soon, the rich aroma of hot pot drifted through the night air.

If the hungry students currently roaming the mountains hunting wild rabbits smelled this, Hao Zhenye suspected something resembling rebellion against teachers might occur.

He looked at the compressed biscuits in his own bag and suddenly found them utterly unappealing.

“Want some?” Xu Mingyue warmly invited.

Hao Zhenye hesitated for a second and first glanced at Fu Qing and Lu Yan.

Lu Yan’s backpack appeared filled entirely with medical supplies. He was carefully sorting gauze and iodine, preparing for emergencies.

Peeking into the bag, Hao Zhenye realized there was no space left for food.

As for Fu Qing, she had not brought a backpack at all. Earlier she had tried sneaking an undercooked meatball and gotten her hand lightly smacked by Xu Mingyue. Translated on Hololo novels. Now she sat cross-legged beside the fire, bored, like a hungry child waiting to be fed.

It seemed Xu Mingyue had brought food for all three of them.

In that case… adding another mouth felt like too much burden.

Seeing his hesitation, Xu Mingyue smiled. “It’s fine. We always divide responsibilities like this. I brought plenty. Three people can’t finish it anyway. Come join us.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Hao Zhenye thanked her and sat around the fire with them.

No one who survived the apocalypse ate slowly. The moment the food finished cooking, the four quickly divided everything.

The meal lasted barely five minutes, leaving Hao Zhenye still wanting more. After cleaning his bowl, he looked at the others and felt awkward.

Proctoring was not difficult. Like ordinary exam invigilators, most of the time they simply sat and waited for wristband alerts requesting assistance.

Idling was already uncomfortable. Idling with unfamiliar people was worse.

Restless, Hao Zhenye debated leaving as he usually would, but after eating their food, that felt impolite. After struggling internally, he decided to start a conversation.

He secretly pulled out the phone Fu Qing had bought for the teachers and searched: “One hundred icebreaker topics for gatherings.”

After finally choosing a suitable topic and looking up to speak, he realized no one was paying attention anymore.

Turning in confusion, he saw Xu Mingyue knitting under a headlamp.

Hao Zhenye: “?”

He was deeply impressed by her preparedness.

Beside her, Fu Qing had already fallen asleep, a small blanket covering her stomach. Every so often, Xu Mingyue paused knitting to tuck the blanket around her more securely.

Hao Zhenye somehow sensed maternal affection in the gesture.

Noticing his gaze, Xu Mingyue assumed he was looking for the missing Lu Yan and whispered, “Emergency call just came in. A student twisted his ankle. He went to carry him back.”

“Oh. Okay.” Hao Zhenye sat back down numbly and decided to pass the night playing a puzzle game on his phone.

*

If the other three proctors mostly waited for emergencies like wild animal encounters and could even sneak in naps, Lu Yan was the complete opposite, busy without pause.

Throughout the entire night, he sat down to rest for less than five minutes total.

The first time he returned, supporting a student who had fallen into a ditch while chasing a rabbit and sprained his ankle, Fu Qing was already asleep.

He treated the injury and had the student wait in the teachers’ tent until the assessment ended.

The second time he returned after rescuing four students poisoned unconscious by a teammate’s disastrous cooking, Fu Qing had merely rolled over and continued sleeping.

He prescribed medication and told them to reflect deeply on their cooking skills while surrounded by lingering hot pot aroma.

The third time, dragging a dazed student back with a rope, he finally found Fu Qing awake, wrapped in her blanket, leisurely playing cards with Xu Mingyue, Hao Zhenye, and the injured student.

Lu Yan: “……”

He could not help asking, “Why does it feel like all of you came camping while I’m the only one doing field training?”

Fu Qing played her final card perfectly and looked up, noticing the tied-up student behind him. She blinked. “You went out once… and came back with a person?”

The boy stared blankly ahead, mouth open, clearly not in a normal mental state.

Fu Qing’s expression turned serious as she stood to examine him. “What happened to him?”

“Oh, him?” Lu Yan said casually, holding the rope. “No idea what he ate. He kept saying he saw his great-grandmother holding hands with Patrick Star dancing around a campfire and wanted to join them. I had no choice but to tie him up.”

Fu Qing: “……”

“Pff!” Xu Mingyue sprayed coffee everywhere.

Lu Yan complained, “What I don’t understand is where he even found poisonous mushrooms this season.”

Xu Mingyue laughed so hard she coughed. After calming down, she asked Fu Qing for the car keys. “I’ll take him to the hospital. He definitely can’t stay in the mountains like this.”

“You three are more useful anyway. Unlike me, I’ve got nothing to do after pitching tents. Stay here. I’ll come back once he’s stable.”

Fu Qing had no objections. After Xu Mingyue led the student away, she noticed Lu Yan standing still, lost in thought.

“What’s wrong?”

Lu Yan frowned slightly, looking toward the dark mountains.

“I just feel like… something isn’t quite right.”

₊˚.🎧📓✩

Forum Hot Posts:

[Report — survived ten minutes in a hell-difficulty instance under the guidance of a cheat-level carry, here to share the good news!]

[Compiled timeline of currently known instances, click to experience the principal at different ages]

[There’s a hell instance set almost five years after the outbreak. Hardly anyone is left alive on the entire continent. When the principal saw me, she visibly froze for a moment. Kinda heartbreaking…]

[Everyone’s using 【Companion】, am I the only one who tried 【Experience】? I randomly picked a high-level instance. From the principal’s perspective, she stayed terrifyingly calm the entire time. When we were surrounded by more than ten zombies, I was about to scream, but somehow got forcibly stabilized by her emotional state.

If the simulation pod hadn’t explained that we can experience the uploader’s emotional fluctuations and that the feature was active, I would’ve thought the function was broken…]

[Reply: Anyone who can resist meeting the little principal gets this (thumbs up). I get this (thumbs down).]

…

The moment Lu Dongyu exited the instance, she rushed to post on the forum. As one of the first players to experience the newly updated feature, her post was quickly pushed onto the trending list.

As a longtime lurker, this was her first time posting. She had never expected so much attention and felt both flattered and overwhelmed.

Soon, however, even more posts flooded in and pushed hers down the rankings.

Rather than feeling disappointed, Lu Dongyu happily browsed like a melon-thief who had stumbled into a whole field of gossip.

She could only spend one hour per week with the little principal, and outside that time she could not enter the combat pod. Reading other people’s experiences was the next best thing.

Before long, even the teachers were drawn in.

Bai Tang personally went next door and knocked on Fu Qing’s dormitory door, immediately asking, “Can teachers use the simulation combat pods too?”

“Yes.”

After thinking for a moment, Fu Qing enabled the new function on the teachers’ wristbands. Once students finished making reservations, teachers could view and book unreserved time slots.

The feature had barely opened before those time slots were silently filled.

Bai Tang finally experienced what perfect physical stats felt like. She deliberately selected a high-rise escape instance and activated Fu Qing’s perspective, merging into her body as she watched “her own body” step along tiny protrusions in the wall while descending. Each landing required only the slightest buffering before moving to the next foothold, almost without pause. From the outside, it looked like a straight vertical fall from a skyscraper.

The roar of wind filled her ears, sweeping past her hair and whipping her clothes violently, yet Bai Tang felt an unprecedented exhilaration.

First-person perspective, full holographic simulation, real sensory experience. Wasn’t this far more exciting than playing games?

Unlike Bai Tang, who eagerly shared her experience immediately after leaving the pod, Hao Zhenye said nothing at all. Translated on Hololo novels. But one morning, when Fu Qing passed the training field after breakfast, she noticed he had quietly doubled the intensity of his morning workouts.

Of course, teachers differed from students. They could not simply enter for entertainment after booking sessions. Especially the newcomers Lu Yan and Xu Mingyue, who had not yet had time to upload their own instances. Taking advantage of the opportunity, they dug through their memories, and within just one week, everyone collectively added dozens of new instances to the simulation system.

Along with viewable clear records.

Unlike the system-generated instances, which mainly focused on combat and escape, the teachers’ uploaded instances were far more diverse.

With the update, instance formats also changed. Cooperative multiplayer instances now allowed more participants, role specialization, and longer time spans.

For example, Instance 093 tasked players with working alongside soldiers during the seventy-two golden hours after a shelter’s fall, rescuing as many survivors as possible.

In this mission, students could divide responsibilities: some performed emergency medical care, others cleared remaining zombies inside the shelter, while others searched for locations and constructed temporary shelters for evacuating the wounded.

This instance was jointly uploaded by Lu Yan and Xu Mingyue.

Another example, Instance 104: survive one week after water supplies are cut off, protecting personal water resources inside an increasingly chaotic apartment building while confronting rioting neighbors.

There were also Instance 99, repairing a collapsed safehouse after torrential rains; Instance 111, assisting in childbirth for a pregnant woman; Instance 108, helping a widowed mother and child trapped in an apartment building fend off looters, and more.

Each instance carried a distinct style, making it easy to guess the uploader’s identity.

The historical archive also gained several new anonymous visitors with different identification numbers.

Since even Fu Qing had shared her memories, the teachers followed her example almost without hesitation, contributing their own memories and emotions.

They were already dead. If these memories could help the living, then they might as well be used.

Through these memories, students glimpsed fragments of their teachers’ inner worlds, experiencing hours and days of their lives.

Anger, fear, anxiety, grief, regret…

When leaving the instances, those foreign emotions were instantly stripped away by the system, yet faint shadows seemed to remain in their hearts.

Without realizing it, the students began training harder.

*

After winter arrived, S City saw its first snowfall.

Fangzhou Campus, located near the mountains and beside a major river, was especially cold in winter. Cotton-like snowflakes drifted endlessly, piling thick layers across the training field. During early morning runs in the dark, people shivered uncontrollably, too cold even to speak, leaving only the crunching sound of footsteps in snow.

A thin sheet of ice formed on the tiles outside the cafeteria entrance, slippery enough to send anyone tumbling with a careless step.

The distant mountains were already buried beneath heavy snow. From the dormitory buildings, the world appeared entirely white.

Fu Qing sat in her heated office, reviewing the performance rankings displayed on the system panel.

They showed the combined rankings from three monthly exams and the midterm, along with students’ regular grades and simulation pod evaluations.

The December monthly exam had been canceled due to its proximity to finals. Once final exams concluded, Fu Qing’s “special squad” roster would be finalized.

After more than four months, clear gaps had emerged among the students, and Fu Qing already had several standout candidates in mind.

All that remained was to ask for their personal willingness.

She rotated her chair halfway and watched the red silk decorations flutter beneath the air conditioner’s airflow, feeling unexpectedly sentimental. She could not remember the last time she had experienced such a warm winter.

Although the entire school had been mobilized to search for traces of the Devout Believers on weekends, either students had begun training harder and went out less, or finding a small group skilled at hiding within a city of tens of millions was simply too difficult.

In any case, up to now, aside from Skull, Fu Qing had yet to encounter a second mutant.

There was also no further information about the woman with burn scars.

Meanwhile, over the past two months, three more large-scale casualty incidents had occurred in S City. The police were overwhelmed with work, and Officer Chen had not called again to report investigation progress. Since Fu Qing had not contacted him either, and the police had confirmed she was safe, they gradually reduced their attention toward her.

Which likely meant the cyber police had failed to uncover anything.

The investigation into the Devout Believers seemed temporarily stalled, so Fu Qing shifted her full attention back to teaching.

Final exams were scheduled for next week. After they ended would come a forty-day winter break.

To avoid raising parents’ suspicions and to allow students to return home and prepare for the apocalypse, Fangzhou’s winter break followed roughly the same schedule as other universities. The only difference was that, aside from three optional rest days during the Spring Festival, students were still required to complete daily running check-ins.

And unlike midterms, this final exam period would include a grade-wide unified examination in addition to individual subject tests.

Fu Qing had already planned the unified exam content. All that remained was scouting locations over the next couple of days.

She was deep in thought when a knock sounded at the door.

“Are you in?” Xu Mingyue peeked inside, looking mysterious. “I want to discuss something with you.”

Excitement sparkled in her eyes. To Fu Qing, who knew her well, Xu Mingyue might as well have had I want to stir up trouble written across her face.

Xu Mingyue dropped onto the sofa and eagerly explained her plan, concluding, “…So I’d like to apply for a holographic simulation prop.”

Fu Qing readily agreed.

Delighted after receiving approval, Xu Mingyue left happily, brushing past Lu Yan at the doorway.

He glanced at her, puzzled by her unusually good mood, then sat down before Fu Qing and got straight to the point. “I’d like to apply for a holographic simulation device for the exam.”

Fu Qing: “……”

Hadn’t this exact scene happened one minute ago? Why did it feel so familiar?

After approving Lu Yan’s request as well, Fu Qing watched him leave and suddenly laughed softly.

While students were nervously preparing for their first finals, the teachers also seemed eager to make a big move.

Whether this group of freshman rookies could survive exam week from hell remained to be seen.

*

One week later.

Five hundred students from the Infrastructure course gathered on the training field, visibly uneasy.

Unlike earlier courses such as Physical Training and Resource Stockpiling, the instructors for Infrastructure and Emergency Medicine had never announced exam content in advance. The students had no idea what to review and now faced their first exam in complete uncertainty.

Even worse, during the final class before the exam, neither Instructor Lu nor Instructor Xu had highlighted any key topics.

Every student on the field now wore heavy dark circles from late-night studying, anxiously awaiting the blade of fate to fall.

When Xu Mingyue, the grim reaper holding the sickle, finally entered, she was met by five hundred resentful stares.

“How the tables turn… When my sophomore-year professor said the exam scope was the entire textbook, I think I looked at her with this exact expression…” Xu Mingyue muttered.

Then she raised her hand and snapped her fingers before everyone.

With a crisp snap, the surroundings changed instantly. The clear sky vanished as winds surged and clouds roiled. Towering mountains appeared ahead, their peaks swallowed by dark mist pressing down with suffocating weight.

Rain poured violently. Lightning split the darkness, and in its brief illumination, everyone finally saw where they were.

An abandoned village.

Built along a mountainside, with the students standing in what had once been a communal gathering ground at higher elevation. Looking out, there were easily over a hundred houses. Every window gaped like a hollow eye socket. Broken bricks and shattered tiles lay silent beneath the torrential rain, giving the place the chilling atmosphere of a ghost village.

Some students instinctively edged closer to one another, feeling cold seep upward from the ground.

Snap!

Amid the darkness and desolation, Xu Mingyue calmly opened a small floral umbrella she had prepared in advance.

The heavy horror-movie atmosphere instantly collapsed at the sight of the cheerful patterned umbrella.

Everyone: “……”

“I should’ve reminded you to bring rain gear, right?” Xu Mingyue kindly said, looking at the students already soaked through.

They hurriedly scrambled to pull out their own rain gear.

“Now I’ll announce the exam content,” she continued.

“It’s the rainy season. A sudden storm has trapped you in this abandoned mountain village, surrounded by difficult terrain.”

“Your task is to complete the following objectives: evade and eliminate remaining zombies in the village, locate a suitable shelter, reinforce it, and survive safely inside until dawn, ten hours from now.”

“That concludes the exam instructions. Good luck.”

The students stared in disbelief.

Why did this… actually sound kind of easy?

With so many people gathered here and no zombies appearing yet, it suggested the village did not contain many zombies. The biggest challenge seemed to be reinforcing a shelter during heavy rain.

Compared to the physical training exam that required solo elimination of five zombies, this almost felt too relaxed.

A surreal sense of good fortune spread among them.

“Why are you still standing around? The countdown has already started,” Xu Mingyue reminded leisurely.

The students snapped back to reality and hurried off, each rushing to choose a suitable house.

…

“Looks like this should be about done, right?”

Cheng Yihui struggled to lift the final large stone and pressed it onto the tarp covering the roof. After securing it, he jumped down from the wooden ladder and stepped back to inspect their work, clearly satisfied.

“This house isn’t that old to begin with. Most of it’s still in good condition. It just leaked a little, so covering it with a tarp basically fixes everything. Next, we just sleep inside and wake up qualified, right?”

Cui Bo, his teammate, still felt uneasy. “This is the final exam. Can it really be this simple? We finished in three hours?”

“Relax,” Cheng Yihui said confidently. “Didn’t we reinforce the surrounding brick walls and set traps under the sections that are easy to climb over? Nothing’s going to happen. Maybe we just got lucky, drew an easy exam question, and get to turn it in early.”

“…Fair enough.” Cui Bo finally relaxed.

After one last inspection of the courtyard and confirming there were no hidden risks, the two walked inside with arms slung over each other’s shoulders.

They even found a box of Monopoly in the homeowner’s storage cabinet. After wiping off the dust, they happily started playing.

…Half an hour later, Cheng Yihui slammed his chips onto the table. “Haha! I win!”

“Damn it,” Cui Bo groaned, buried in debt. “Again!”

Cheng Yihui was about to agree when he suddenly frowned and looked around. “Do you hear something?”

Rain hammered loudly against the tarp, drowning out most sounds. Holding their breath, they listened carefully and finally picked out a faint rumbling beneath the storm, like rolling water.

The sound rapidly grew louder, impossible to ignore, and a sense of dread slowly crept into their hearts.

They jumped to their feet and rushed for the door.

The moment it opened, a roaring torrent mixed with massive amounts of mud and debris swallowed them whole.

Before they could even react, a flash of white light filled their vision, followed by three merciless words:

【You Died.】

【Examinee deceased. Exam automatically terminated. Calculating results.】

【Shelter completely destroyed due to landslide. Construction Score: 0】

【Total survival time: 3h26m (Fail)】

【P.S. Landslide was this exam’s bonus challenge. If safety risks were identified early and dangerous locations avoided, +5 bonus points awarded. If choosing a high-difficulty challenge by building near the landslide epicenter and successfully surviving, +100 bonus points awarded.】

【High-difficulty challenge failed. Bonus points: 0】

The two stared blankly.

“…What kind of infrastructure exam has surviving a landslide as a bonus question?!”

Cheng Yihui muttered weakly, “If you wanted to mock us for not using our brains, you could’ve just said so… Why does calling it ‘failed high-difficulty challenge’ feel even more humiliating…”

Cui Bo: “…+1.”

The two underperforming students covered their faces simultaneously, too ashamed to face anyone.

*

The next day, on the training field.

Emergency Medicine exams were being conducted in batches, with the first group scheduled for that morning. Students gathered early, animatedly discussing the previous day’s infrastructure final.

“I heard the landslide destroyed 80% of the village houses. Half the students failed.”

“Half a class needing retakes? That’s brutal!”

“So the real exam started the moment we chose a house?”

An infrastructure student chimed in, “It’s not Instructor Xu’s fault. She made us familiarize ourselves with campus terrain in the first class. Understanding geography and surroundings was lesson one. People just didn’t take it seriously.”

Liang Yi said this earnestly.

Someone nodded. “Yeah, I heard she said afterward that building a shelter isn’t about construction or repairs. It’s about choosing the right location.”

“After this exam, everyone’s definitely going to remember that lesson. Honestly, that’s kind of reassuring.”

“Yeah. Shelter safety affects everyone’s survival. It’s even more important than zombie combat skills. This is basically being responsible for everyone.”

As for the students who failed… well, that was another matter entirely.

While they sympathized with the Emergency Medicine students’ supposed misery, many forgot they themselves were already standing in the exam zone.

Then suddenly, their vision blurred.

When they steadied themselves again, they found themselves standing at the center of a stadium.

The field was packed with tents. Some people lay directly on blankets spread over the ground. Crowds shuffled past wearing clothes that clearly had not been washed for days, moving with exhausted, numb expressions.

At a glance, there were at least tens of thousands gathered here.

Two rows of portable toilets stood nearby, yet a strong stench still filled the crowded space.

Some students with sensitive noses immediately gagged and covered their mouths.

“Where are we?”

“What are we supposed to do?”

Amid the confusion, a calm voice tinged with faint amusement rang out.

“This is Primary Comprehensive Shelter No. 2 in City A, formerly the City A Olympic Sports Center. Since its establishment, it has housed a total of 27,314 displaced civilians.”

“Unfortunately, during the crisis, frontline staff suffered heavy casualties. The remaining personnel are insufficient to coordinate more than twenty thousand people, and order here has completely collapsed.”

Following Instructor Lu’s explanation, students noticed figures in white protective suits moving through the crowd. Looking down, they saw civilians lying on blankets, faces ashen, groaning weakly.

A bad feeling rose instantly.

Some patients had IV drips attached, but many more appeared untreated. Farther away, a medical worker staggered and suddenly collapsed, triggering renewed chaos.

“Now announcing the final exam task,” Lu Yan continued.

“Within forty-eight hours, assist shelter staff in establishing a complete intake and management process for refugees. Act as volunteer medical personnel and handle all emergency situations encountered by shelter residents during this period. Each successfully handled case earns 1–5 bonus points based on performance.”

Standing among the refugees in a spotless white coat, Lu Yan looked oddly out of place.

Yet he seemed completely at ease.

While speaking, he casually stopped a little girl running past, gently touched her dirty face without hesitation, observed her condition, and then handed her a piece of fruit candy from his pocket.

When he turned back, he met the students’ complicated expressions.

Those expressions clearly said: after the infrastructure exam, they would not be fooled again.

Someone stared at the patients with IV drips and unfocused eyes and said firmly, “Something’s wrong here.”

“These people couldn’t be…”

Everyone turned toward Instructor Lu.

He smiled gently as usual.

The entire group shivered.

Was there anything scarier than a teacher suddenly smiling right before handing out an exam paper?

“If, by coincidence, an epidemic were to break out here during these forty-eight hours and sweep across the entire stadium…” Lu Yan shrugged lightly. “That would naturally count as one of the emergencies you need to handle, wouldn’t it?”

Everyone: “……”

Someone even more ruthless than Instructor Xu had appeared.

₊˚.🎧📓✩

Previous

Lu Dongyu had no time to think about why the principal, who before the apocalypse had been nothing more than an ordinary college student, was so skilled at fighting. Perhaps this was what people called natural talent.

She focused on the zombie assigned to her, spending some effort before finally killing it.

Lu Dongyu let out a heavy breath of relief. At least she had taken down one. She had not disgraced the school, at least.

“Prin—” she lifted her head excitedly.

Fu Qing turned just in time to see her new partner’s eager, praise-seeking expression, eyes bright with anticipation. For some reason, it reminded her of the big yellow dog that lingered downstairs by the dormitory.

It felt as though this suddenly appeared partner carried an inexplicable sense of dependence toward her.

In just one month of the apocalypse, Fu Qing had already witnessed enough of humanity’s complexity and ugliness to instinctively remain guarded around strangers. Yet for reasons she could not explain, she sensed no hostility at all from Lu Dongyu. Instead, she even felt a faint warmth.

The kind that made one want to pat her on the head.

Even though they had only just met.

Fu Qing felt slightly puzzled.

Lu Dongyu also realized her attempt to seek praise had been far too obvious. She gave an awkward, sheepish laugh and, trying to change the subject, looked down at the man beneath her.

The zombie she had killed was the one closest to the dead man. She now found herself crouched beside the corpse, and the moment she lowered her gaze, she saw several fresh, bloody holes across his body.

They were deep enough to expose bone, their edges marked by irregular bite patterns.

Marks left by being torn apart and devoured alive by “beasts.”

Lu Dongyu fell silent.

Judging by how quickly bodies decomposed in summer, the man had died less than twelve hours ago. Yet because the plastic wrap had protected vital areas like his neck, all his wounds were located in nonlethal places.

Those desperate attempts at self-protection had backfired instead, forcing him to endure a long, agonizing death.

An uncontrollable wave of sympathy rose in Lu Dongyu’s chest.

Anyone daring to come to the central hospital at a time like this, and even managing to bypass the countless zombies in the courtyard, must have possessed both courage and judgment. Aside from the zombie bite wounds, he bore no other injuries. Most likely, he had not risked coming here for himself.

Before setting out, had he imagined this journey would be one without return?

And the person he had risked his life to find medicine for, did they know the one they waited for would never come back?

The more Lu Dongyu thought about it, the heavier her heart became. Then another voice suddenly broke the silence.

“That person… shouldn’t be left like this.”

Before Lu Dongyu could react, she saw Fu Qing gesture toward the corpse on the ground and make a throat-cutting motion.

“But…” Still feeling sympathy, Lu Dongyu hesitated, unable to accept striking a corpse. “He’s already dead.”

As if understanding her thoughts, Fu Qing frowned and considered her words for two seconds, about to explain further when both of them heard an ominous sound beneath Lu Dongyu.

Sssrrrip—

The faint rustling of plastic wrap rubbing together.

Lu Dongyu: “??”

She sucked in a sharp breath.

“Move!”

At the same instant Fu Qing shouted, Lu Dongyu rolled away in a clumsy scramble. Out of the corner of her eye, the man, like an ancient mummy, tore through the plastic wrap with hoarse growls and clawed his way up from the ground.

The force of his movement snapped the tightly wound plastic apart almost instantly.

He had mutated… why now of all times?!

The karma arrived faster than punishment itself.

Lu Dongyu wished she could rewind three seconds and pry open her own skull to see what nonsense had been inside her head.

This zombie moved incredibly fast. She had not dodged in time. Just as she scrambled away on hands and feet, she felt a heavy weight clamp onto her right leg.

The zombie had grabbed her thigh.

Lu Dongyu could practically see the words game over appearing before her eyes.

She gritted her teeth and kicked backward several times but could not shake it loose. During the struggle, the pant leg tucked tightly into her boot slid upward, and she nearly felt the chill of air against her exposed skin.

She immediately stopped thrashing, twisting her body instead and stabbing downward with the fruit knife in her hand.

Perhaps because it had already been feeding alongside five other zombies, the virus concentration in this one seemed unusually high. It shook its head like a rabid dog, violently enough that a living person’s brain might have been shaken loose—

Finally, with a clang, the fruit knife jammed firmly into a gap between the zombie’s bones.

Lu Dongyu yanked hard, but it would not budge. Instead, the zombie’s thrashing tore the weapon from her grip.

Her weapon was gone. Cold dread flooded her chest.

“Principal, run! I’m sorry—!”

she cried miserably.

A sharp gust of wind suddenly sliced past her ear. A “long spear” whistled past her cheek and, with a loud metallic strike, plunged straight into the zombie’s soft eye socket.

The spearhead rang sharply. The tremendous force drove the zombie backward. As it died, its grip loosened, and the hands clutching Lu Dongyu went slack.

The weight on her leg vanished instantly.

Lu Dongyu nearly burst into tears from relief.

Fu Qing’s posture remained frozen in the moment after throwing the spear. Only when she noticed the zombie had died did she finally let out a breath of relief.

She was not yet completely confident in her strength or accuracy, but if she had not taken the risk just now, it would have been too late.

“Th-thank you.” Lu Dongyu wiped the cold sweat from her forehead. When she turned back for a closer look, she realized that what she had mistaken for a spear was actually a dismantled IV stand.

Its rounded tip had no sharp edge at all. Fu Qing had relied purely on brute force to drive it through the air and into the zombie’s eye socket.

Both the precision and the strength were astonishing.

Lu Dongyu collapsed weakly onto the ground, too shocked to close her mouth. After a long moment, she climbed to her feet, drenched in sweat. “I…”

The reversal had come too quickly. From her ears down to her neck, she flushed bright red, half from panic, half from embarrassment.

“After being attacked by zombies, he didn’t die immediately. Too much virus accumulated in his body. Before death, the virus had already begun altering him, but because of the incubation period, he neither died nor immediately turned into a zombie. He entered a state similar to suspended death.”

Ignoring her awkwardness, Fu Qing walked directly to the corpse, crouched down, and pulled the IV stand free as she explained, “He only lost breathing and body temperature, waiting for the incubation period to fully end before mutating.”

“You don’t need to blame yourself. I only suspected this because I happened to encounter a similar case once. I wasn’t certain either.”

Still half-crouched, Fu Qing lowered her gaze toward the dead man.

After the IV stand was removed, his face looked unbearably tragic. One eye had been completely destroyed, while the other remained wide open, filled with despair and unwillingness.

It was impossible to tell whether that gaze held fear of death or regret at failing to bring life-saving medicine back.

Fu Qing sighed softly and covered his intact eye with her palm. Once his eyes were closed, a faint trace of peace finally appeared on his face.

Lu Dongyu watched silently.

The sharp killing intent Fu Qing displayed toward zombies was real, and so was the solemn respect she showed toward the dead. The two existed together in a strange balance.

It seemed contradictory, yet perhaps this was the only way to survive in the apocalypse.

Lu Dongyu changed her earlier thoughts.

Someone who could kill zombies with such practiced ease and possessed such deep understanding of the virus must have long since grasped the reality of the apocalypse.

Every place Fu Qing had walked was littered with corpses. She knew that millions were dying every day. The kindness she had shown upon meeting Lu Dongyu was probably not born of hope, but simple happiness at encountering another living stranger in a ruined world.

…Silently, Lu Dongyu pulled her fruit knife free. As expected, the blade edge had curled and dulled.

Without a weapon, the rest of the journey would be difficult.

At that moment, Fu Qing turned her own fruit knife around and offered it to her, handle first. “Take it.”

Lu Dongyu hesitated. “Then what about you?”

“I can find another weapon.” Fu Qing paused, then added reassuringly, “As long as nothing happens to you, we’ll get out safely.”

Lu Dongyu: “……”

Sorry for being such dead weight.

Her heavy mood lightened slightly. She sighed and slowly followed behind the principal.

“Oh, right.”

After taking a few steps, Fu Qing turned back. “What did you call me just now?”

Lu Dongyu: “…!!”

*

Covered in sweat, Lu Dongyu somehow managed to brush off the accidental “principal” that had slipped out during the crisis.

Perhaps all her bad luck had already been spent earlier, because the rest of the journey went smoothly. They obtained the required medicine without much trouble.

Following the system’s checklist exactly, Lu Dongyu gathered every item needed, not one more or less, filling a backpack perfectly. She weighed it in her hands, confirmed it would not hinder movement, and turned to check on Fu Qing’s progress.

The moment she looked over, she saw the small principal dumping an entire shelf of antibiotics into a huge sack she had somehow found.

The little principal swept through supplies with overwhelming momentum, a bulging backpack already slung over her shoulders, looking less like someone scavenging during the apocalypse and more like someone confidently restocking at a wholesale store.

Lu Dongyu stared, dumbfounded.

Outside in the corridor, countless zombies still shuffled about. Could the principal really leave safely carrying this much medicine?

Reality proved, once again, that she had underestimated Fu Qing.

As they prepared to leave the pharmacy, Fu Qing suddenly asked, seemingly out of nowhere, “Do you trust me?”

Without hesitation, Lu Dongyu answered firmly, “Of course!”

Only afterward did she remember to ask, “What are you planning to do?”

Fu Qing looked at her without blinking, a faint smile appearing in her eyes.

She adjusted the weight of the sack on her shoulder. “We collected more medicine than planned. The original route won’t work. We’d get chased. I want to take another way.”

Lu Dongyu nodded rapidly like a pecking chicken. “Mm-hmm, no problem.”

Fifteen minutes later, the two of them were lying atop a ventilation duct on the ceiling of the underground parking garage.

They had descended through the fire escape into the garage, then climbed along the wall-mounted fire pipes up onto the ductwork. While climbing, Lu Dongyu barely understood what was happening. Fu Qing, burdened with bags and packs, had already stepped onto the bolts connecting the ducts and scrambled up in just a few movements, leaving Lu Dongyu struggling awkwardly behind, clinging to the nearly foothold-less pipe with her backside sticking out as she wriggled upward.

Lu Dongyu seriously suspected the principal had been a monkey in a previous life. Not just any monkey, but a monkey king, otherwise she could not possibly be this agile.

By the time she finally crawled onto the duct, panting heavily, Fu Qing had already been observing from above for quite a while. Once Lu Dongyu caught up, she pointed in a direction.

“Go there. We’ll find a car.”

“How do you know there’s a car there? We don’t even have keys—” Lu Dongyu’s words abruptly stopped.

Fu Qing opened her palm downward, fingers spread. A keyring hung from her hand, car keys and colorful plush charms dangling and swaying cheerfully.

Lu Dongyu: “Where did that come from?!”

“From the third zombie we killed. I thought it might be useful, so I kept it,” Fu Qing said casually. “She was wearing a white coat. A hospital doctor. Her car should be in the staff parking area.”

“And since the keychain is covered in merchandise from a certain Japanese anime, she probably liked that IP a lot. The interior decorations would likely match… so after looking around a bit, I found it.”

After finishing her deduction and locking onto the target, Fu Qing indicated the direction again. Lu Dongyu followed her gaze and instantly fell silent.

It was far more than matching interior decorations. At the end of her line of sight stood a car completely covered in Pikachu decals, a dazzling golden itasha.

Amid a parking lot dominated by black, white, and gray vehicles, it was impossibly conspicuous.

“…This luck is unreal.” Lu Dongyu felt defeated, once again realizing the difference between people.

The two climbed onto the roof of the decorated car. Making sure no zombies were nearby, Fu Qing secured a rope, and they slid down one after the other.

Carrying the huge sack on her back like a gift-bearing Santa Claus, Fu Qing’s movements remained astonishingly light. Her boots landed soundlessly on the car roof. She pressed the key fob.

The next second—

A deep, magnetic male voice echoed through the entire garage:

“Welcome back, baby~”

Fu Qing: “?”

Lu Dongyu: “???”

Every zombie in the garage turned toward the sound.

Lu Dongyu’s hair stood on end.

Driving an itasha to work was already bold enough, but what level of social fearlessness did someone need to change the unlock sound to something like this?!

Weren’t they afraid of rush hour crowds?!

Fortunately, zombies could not understand human language. Otherwise, the ones crawling awkwardly across the floor from sheer embarrassment would have been the two of them.

They dove into the car at unprecedented speed. Before Lu Dongyu could even fasten her seatbelt, Fu Qing slammed the accelerator, and the Pikachu-covered car shot out of its parking space.

Several staggering zombies ahead were sent flying without her even blinking.

After the outbreak, the garage had fallen into chaos. Near the exit, several cars had crashed into one another, forming a tangled blockade that left only a narrow passage.

Lu Dongyu estimated at a glance that there was absolutely not enough space for their car to pass.

Behind them surged a swarm of zombies. Ahead stood the stalled vehicles. Despair nearly swallowed her whole.

Beside her, Fu Qing gripped the steering wheel tightly and pressed down hard. The engine roared, the entire car trembling as speed climbed without restraint. Tires screeched as they slid sideways, and she forcibly rammed aside the rear end of a car blocking the passage!

—Bang!

At that moment, every zombie in the courtyard seemed to sense something, turning blankly toward the direction of the thunderous noise.

Something yellow burst outward, whipped its tail in a sharp turn, and vanished from their sight in an instant.

The zombies blinked slowly. Their dull minds failed to process what had happened before the target disappeared. After a moment of confusion, they simply turned their heads back again and resumed shuffling forward on instinct.

The glowing sunset poured through the windshield, illuminating Lu Dongyu’s numb expression.

【Detected departure from mission area.】

【Scanning…】

【“Instance 061” Cleared!】

【Clear Time: 27min08s】

【Overall Rating: S (Nearly perfect performance!)】

【Current Instance Rank: 1】

【Overall Rating Rank: 37】

Lu Dongyu: “……”

The instance that had blocked her countless times… cleared in a single attempt?

And the rating was… S?!

Instance ratings were calculated individually for each player. Even when completing a dungeon as a team, each person received a separate evaluation based on their performance. However, since ratings were also affected by mission completion and clear time, strong overall team performance could still grant high scores to individuals whose personal performance had not been especially outstanding.

Lu Dongyu asked herself honestly: throughout the entire instance, the only real contribution she had made was killing one of the five zombies in the storage room.

The rest of the time, she had merely been a well-behaved little accessory trailing behind a powerhouse.

With performance this poor, she had still received an S rating, broken the instance record, and even climbed to 37th place on the overall leaderboard among all players’ records.

So just how absurdly overpowered was the principal as a teammate?

This was not some “companion” feature at all. It was basically providing a walking, human-shaped cheat.

The brief glimpses of the principal’s strength she had seen before were nothing compared to accompanying her through the entire run and witnessing every action firsthand from a third-person perspective. To Lu Dongyu, it felt as though some of Fu Qing’s decisions were things she herself might have thought of, yet she could never execute them with such efficiency.

It was as if everything had already been calculated in advance inside her mind. Every avoidable risk had been eliminated beforehand, and then, relying on physical ability and reflexes, she swiftly resolved whatever remained. The result was an effortless crushing of a high-difficulty instance.

Back when no one could view the anonymous player’s clear recordings, the forums had gone wild imagining and simulating her methods.

Now, however, Lu Dongyu began to doubt.

Even if people learned the principal’s strategy, they still would not be able to replicate it, much less carry it out in reality.

The gap was despairing, yet undeniable.

The difference between them and the principal was simply that vast.

…

With the instance complete, Lu Dongyu could leave at any time.

But she found herself reluctant.

Including the time she had spent browsing records at the beginning, nearly an hour had passed. If she left now, the next time she would see the little principal would be a week later.

She hesitated and stalled while the car slowly pulled over at the roadside.

Looking outside, she realized Fu Qing had driven in a loop to shake off all pursuing zombies, then unexpectedly returned to the front entrance of the city center hospital and parked in an inconspicuous corner.

Confused, Lu Dongyu watched as Fu Qing stepped out carrying the bags.

She found a plastic bag, took out half of the medicine, placed it inside, and then openly hung it on the hospital’s iron fence.

Anyone arriving at the hospital entrance would notice the bag filled with medicine immediately.

In the apocalypse, that was more valuable than gold.

Startled, Lu Dongyu asked, “What are you doing?”

“That man only came to the hospital within the last couple of days. If he never went back and had companions, they’ll probably come looking for him. They might still be nearby,” Fu Qing said as she got back into the car.

Hopefully, they would see the medicine and take it.

Anyone willing to risk their life entering the hell-difficulty city center hospital for medicine must have been truly desperate.

She could not save him, but at least she could try to save the person he had wanted to save.

At last, Lu Dongyu understood why the principal had suddenly risked taking twice as much medicine and even changed their escape route.

The plastic bag hung high on the railing, rustling softly in the wind. After a moment of distraction, Lu Dongyu saw Fu Qing close her backpack again and carefully sling it over her shoulders.

“I have two friends who were injured. I was worrying about where to find medicine. If you hadn’t been here today, I probably would’ve tried sneaking into the hospital myself. I might’ve ended up just like him.”

Only then did Fu Qing’s tense posture finally relax. Her eyes curved as she smiled. “Thanks.”

The man who died in the hospital seemed, in some unseen way, to have shown her another possible outcome of this gamble.

Fu Qing felt genuine gratitude toward this suddenly appeared partner.

Lu Dongyu’s throat tightened. “You don’t need to thank me.”

Because in another possibility, you still would have done perfectly fine without me.

You would have entered the hospital alone and brought out all the medicine anyway.

Otherwise, this instance would never have existed.

Fu Qing did not understand her unspoken meaning. She looked down at her palm, where deep-blue streams of data flickered briefly and began to destabilize.

The 【Companion】 function was ending.

With the system present, Fu Qing made no comment about the strange experience. She simply patted Lu Dongyu on the shoulder. “Do your best to stay alive. Maybe we’ll meet again someday.”

With that, she slung her backpack over her shoulder and strode away.

Only after her figure disappeared around the street corner did Lu Dongyu turn to look at the Pikachu-covered car parked by the roadside.

The principal had left her this nearly full tank of fuel along with the keys.

Whether intentional or not, perhaps afraid Lu Dongyu would refuse if she noticed, Fu Qing had not even mentioned it before leaving, slipping away without a word.

Lu Dongyu let out a soft sigh, pressed the button to exit the instance, and murmured to herself,

“We will definitely meet again.”

Even if it would be far, far in the future.

₊˚.🎧📓✩

Next

Between the construction site and the hospital lay only a single road. Climbing over the wall, one could immediately see the cluster of hospital buildings standing beneath the sunlight.

The pharmacy was located on the east side of the entrance hall of the outpatient building. Entering through the main gate, it would be easy to find. But in front of the main entrance stretched an imposing plaza, with a central garden and pavilion for inpatients to rest and stroll. Everywhere, zombies dressed in blue-and-white hospital gowns dragged IV stands behind them, clattering noisily as they wandered across the square.

The plaza offered a wide, unobstructed view. Trying to avoid them and enter through the main doors unnoticed was nearly impossible.

Meanwhile, the medication pickup window connected to the pharmacy opened directly into the outpatient lobby, the central hub of the entire outpatient building. In the early days of the outbreak, before the public clearly understood the virus’s transmissibility, crowds of patients had flooded in here. Many of them still wandered the lobby now, spawning like minor mobs at random among consultation rooms, corridors, and wards.

If only a month had not passed since the outbreak, leaving the hospital filled mostly with easily handled low-level zombies, Lu Dongyu was certain this instance would have been assigned hell difficulty.

After studying the floor plan, they decided to enter through the small side door of the physical examination center on the west side near the wall. From there, they would circle along the relatively empty second floor to the east side of the outpatient building, avoid crowded departments such as Infectious Diseases along the way, and finally take the stairs down to the pharmacy’s back entrance.

The two moved silently along the landscaped greenery. The glass doors of the examination building had long since been shattered, whether by zombies or fleeing crowds unknown, leaving shards scattered across the ground that crunched loudly underfoot.

Both wore hard leather high-top boots and were tightly covered from head to toe, unafraid of cuts from broken glass. Still, to avoid making noise that might attract zombies, they stepped carefully around the shards, moving as lightly as possible.

From the side entrance to the outpatient lobby ran a straight corridor connecting the east and west sides, effectively the main transverse artery of the outpatient building.

The moment they entered, both spotted the outpatient lobby at the far end of the corridor.

A dense mass of zombies made one’s heart run cold.

Blood covered the floor. Stark, bloody handprints smeared across the white walls, bearing witness to the brutal scene that had unfolded here. Stretchers, medicine bottles, even heavy chairs had been dragged into the middle of the corridor, forming chaotic barricades that partially blocked the passage. To some extent, they also obstructed the zombies’ line of sight, preventing them from noticing the two living people slipping quietly inside.

Several mangled corpses lay sprawled across the hallway.

Without sunlight, the long hospital corridor felt especially deep and shadowed.

After more than two months of training, Lu Dongyu had already grown accustomed to such bloody scenes. She no longer screamed or panicked. Yet knowing that this city-center hospital was modeled after the real hospital in S City, one she had visited just last year, still made her heart tremble.

Fortunately, this was not her first time entering this instance. Otherwise, she would definitely have held the principal back.

Just as Lu Dongyu was about to withdraw her gaze, a sudden pa sounded nearby.

A zombie had wandered out from a consultation room whose door stood half open, tripping over a corpse at the doorway and making a noise.

In an instant, every nearby wandering zombie stopped.

As if in slow motion, the gaunt living corpses throughout the gloomy corridor turned their heads in unison, looking toward the two of them—

Lu Dongyu’s breathing suddenly quickened.

A hand abruptly pressed down on the back of her head. The person beside her hissed in a breath-thin whisper, “Move!”

Combat instincts honed in physical education training made Lu Dongyu far more agile than before the semester began. Following Fu Qing’s force, she bent forward and lunged. Her lowered body was perfectly concealed by a row of metal seats blocking the middle of the corridor, and she tumbled smoothly onto the stairway.

Fu Qing, already one step ahead on the stairs, reached back, grabbed Lu Dongyu by the collar, and lifted slightly, stopping her forward momentum so she would not slam onto the tiles.

Getting bruised would be one thing. Drawing zombies would be worse.

The stairwell lay outside the zombies’ field of vision from the corridor. Lu Dongyu did not dare move, holding her breath as she listened for a long moment. Only after confirming the zombies had not noticed them did she mouth silently, “Thank you…”

Then she realized she was being held by the back of her neck like fate itself had grabbed her. Her face flushed red, and a flood of thoughts raced through her mind: what was the last weight she had measured? Would the principal think she was too heavy?

She lifted me with one hand. So strong…

Fu Qing shook her head and released her collar.

As her hand withdrew, the edge of her palm brushed across the skin at the back of Lu Dongyu’s neck. She distinctly felt the rough texture of scars and hardened calluses against her skin.

…The running commentary in her mind abruptly paused, and Lu Dongyu could not help turning her head back.

Only then did she notice that not just the hand, but every patch of exposed skin from wrist to arm to neck on Fu Qing bore scars.

Some had already healed, pink new flesh growing over them. Others were covered in thick scabs. A strip of snow-white bandage peeked from her sleeve, winding around her arm. The sight made Lu Dongyu’s chest tighten painfully.

How had she endured this past month?

Almost unconsciously, Lu Dongyu reached toward the arm hidden beneath her own clothes. The combat pod had not simulated it, but in reality, a fresh bruise had appeared in the same spot just yesterday.

After training for so long, bruises and scrapes were unavoidable. Lu Dongyu would occasionally complain about them, but now, she suddenly felt that she was fortunate.

After steadying herself, Lu Dongyu made a hand signal to indicate she was ready.

Fu Qing gave a slight nod.

From the moment they entered the hospital grounds, her previously relaxed expression had vanished. The faint smiles that occasionally appeared when speaking with her new partner were replaced entirely by calm focus.

She resembled a blade with its edge concealed, waiting only for the moment it would be drawn.

Lu Dongyu swallowed quietly and forced herself to concentrate on their surroundings.

With the help of the map, crossing the second floor went smoothly.

During previous trips through the hospital, the biggest trouble had always been zombies suddenly appearing from blind corners. There were simply too many zombies inside; overlapping footsteps made it easy to miss nearby movement. But this time, with Fu Qing relying on sound to determine positions, they avoided countless sudden encounters before they could happen.

Only once did they fail to avoid one. Moving quickly, Fu Qing stepped forward and, before the zombie could turn around, locked its neck from behind with her forearm. The fruit knife in her hand stabbed into its temple.

The zombie’s roar never had the chance to escape before its body went limp and collapsed.

When she pulled the blade free, soft red-and-white fragments came out with it, splattering onto Fu Qing. She wiped them away casually and gestured for Lu Dongyu to keep moving.

This was the first time Lu Dongyu had seen the principal kill a zombie.

She stared, nearly stunned, unable to understand how something like killing a zombie could look as effortless as tossing away a piece of trash.

…

When Fu Qing lightly tapped her shoulder again, Lu Dongyu immediately knew another zombie was approaching ahead.

Recalling the map, she reacted quickly, pushing open a nearby door. The two slipped inside. It was a storage room.

Fu Qing entered first. Lu Dongyu carefully released the handle as slowly as possible.

The latch clicked softly back into place. The sound was faint, and the dragging footsteps of the approaching zombie outside did not change. Lu Dongyu let out a quiet breath of relief and stepped back, only to bump directly into Fu Qing’s back.

She stood completely still, shoulders slightly raised, muscles tense, like the instant before an explosion.

“…?” Sensing something wrong, Lu Dongyu stiffly turned her head.

The motion of closing the door stirred the air, lifting dust into motion. The storage room was dim; curtains blocked most of the light, leaving only a narrow gap in the middle through which a single beam of sunlight pierced straight across the hazy darkness.

Like a deliberately framed cinematic shot, the beam of light fell upon a dead man lying on the ground.

His eyes were wide open, staring toward the sunlight outside the window.

He still wore a short-sleeved summer shirt. His arms and neck were crudely wrapped in layers of plastic wrap, sealing off exposed vulnerable areas as if he had naively believed this would protect him from zombie attacks.

But clearly, he had failed.

In the shadows beyond the reach of sunlight, five zombies crouched over his body. Their spines arched into jagged curves as they gnawed tirelessly, faint rustling sounds echoing through the silent room.

Judging by the state of the corpse, it had likely been less than half a day since the man had forced his way inside.

There was no rotting smell in the air, only the fresh, heavy scent of blood.

So… like them, he must also have come to the hospital seeking medicine out of desperation. After climbing through the window, he had been attacked by zombies already inside and died here?

Lu Dongyu’s eyes moved slowly as she silently glanced toward the half-open window. Or perhaps he had first been killed by one or two zombies, and the smell of blood drew more in. Then a gust of wind shut the door from the inside, trapping both zombies and corpse together in the room?

…Either way, this was completely unexpected.

Who would have imagined that five zombies were hidden inside a tightly closed storage room?

Lu Dongyu cursed inwardly.

Even if they were only low-level zombies, five was too many. The storage room was less than twenty square meters, packed with shelves that left almost no room to maneuver.

They could only run!

She reached back to open the door, but at that moment one of the zombies facing them lifted its head.

Most of its face was smeared with blood, revealing only a pair of cloudy, hollow eyes dominated by whites.

Its gaze lingered, then its mouth slowly opened.

“Roar—”

Almost at the same instant the zombie roared, Fu Qing shot forward!

Lu Dongyu’s pupils shrank; she could barely follow the movement.

Killing intent erupted in an instant. That slender back, still far less imposing than it would be years later, carried an absolute decisiveness, as though she would charge even into a dragon’s den or tiger’s lair without hesitation.

The zombies, their backs previously turned toward the door, now turned toward the approaching prey, mouths opening wide. Unaware of what had happened, they instinctively displayed animalistic excitement, snorting heavily through their noses.

The first zombie had just staggered upright when Fu Qing leapt and delivered a heavy kick to the side of its face. Its rotten, fragile neck twisted instantly, the head turning nearly one hundred eighty degrees with a horrifying crack of bone.

Low-level zombies still relied on their spines for movement. A broken spine would not kill them, but it rendered them useless. Its body slammed into a shelf, sending thick dust cascading down and clouding the room.

Fu Qing bent low to avoid the dust without slowing. The moment she landed, her wrist tightened, and the blade in her right hand drove straight into another zombie’s eye socket.

Then she pulled it out without pause—

A spray of blood shot outward.

Everything happened so fast that before Lu Dongyu could react, two zombies had already fallen silent.

Had it even been three seconds?

Her mouth hung open as she froze in place, then she snapped back to herself and hurried forward.

Not because she feared the principal would struggle without help, but…

If she did not join in now, she might not get even a single one.

That would look like she was slacking off.

While Lu Dongyu desperately intercepted one zombie and maneuvered against it using the techniques she had learned, the small principal’s “sinful” hand had already reached toward the third.

Relying on the thick anti-abrasion gloves she wore, Fu Qing pressed directly against the zombie’s jaw, fingers locking into the joint and forcibly preventing it from biting. Facing the mouth that spewed foul, acidic breath, her movements remained calm and precise.

One thrust, one pull.

Another kill added to the tally.

The zombie collapsed weakly. Fu Qing frowned and turned her head aside before finally exhaling slowly.

It stinks.

Three of the five zombies fell in moments. One remained entangled with Lu Dongyu. Because it was a direct confrontation and the zombie had been large and burly in life, Lu Dongyu struggled slightly, though not enough to lose.

Fu Qing watched briefly, saw that she would finish soon, then crooked a finger toward the last zombie, which was eyeing Lu Dongyu eagerly.

“Hey,” she said softly. “Your opponent is over here.”

Absorbed in the fight, Lu Dongyu suddenly heard this and nearly stabbed herself when her blade slipped.

She still had the spare energy to provoke it…

If five zombies in a sealed room could be handled so easily, then before zombies began mutating, did this so-called apocalypse even pose a survival challenge for the principal?

And this was her from five years ago.

A faint realization dawned on Lu Dongyu.

The principal’s strength was far more terrifying than they had ever imagined.

₊˚.🎧📓✩

Previous

After Cen Han left for afternoon classes, Qian Yuan sat on his bed and thought carefully.

—She now had 133 Star Coins (credits), and when she last checked the convenience store, a winter coat cost 120.

But yesterday, when she looked at the door, she noticed two new destinations had appeared: the black market for 10 stamina, and the shopping mall for 15.

Clothes from the convenience store couldn’t compare to the mall. Since she had already leveled up to level 2 and now had 15 stamina, she decided to visit the mall.

Before leaving, Qian Yuan claimed her daily login rewards—10 Star Coins and a gacha coin—and eagerly summoned the gacha machine.

【Congratulations! You have obtained: Slingshot Set ×1!】

Qian Yuan: “…Huh?”

A slingshot dropped into her palm: a wooden Y-shaped handle, an elastic band, and a small pouch of steel pellets.

It looked exactly like the kind kids would play with.

Qian Yuan fell into thought.

Everyone knew gacha prizes were deliberately set by the developers.

So the fact that this slingshot was included must mean something.

Maybe Cen Han liked slingshots?

The little ghost scratched her head, glanced at the desk cluttered with mechanical scraps, and tucked the slingshot into the bag by Cen Han’s wheelchair—planning to surprise him later.

After a night’s rest, her stamina (XP) had fully recovered. From the four options, she clicked on Imperial Capital Mall.

The scene shifted. Dazzling light flashed into her eyes, making her instinctively raise her hand to shield them.

Noises crowded in from every direction: casual conversations, shy small talk, curious questions, bursts of laughter… She froze, goosebumps rising, her mind blank, feet rooted like lead.

Then a dumpling-faced NPC passed right in front of her.

Her pounding heart slowed. She swallowed, lowered her hand.

Coming suddenly from the silence of a tiny room to the chaos of a mall had startled her, but she quickly reminded herself—this was just a game. These crowds weren’t real people.

That thought eased her nerves. She opened her eyes wide, curiously taking in the new scene.

Cen Han’s house and the convenience store were plain. The junkyard had robots and tech, but it was still just a scrapyard, not much to look at.

The mall, however, was different.

A galaxy shimmered across the domed ceiling—an unusual one, without a clear core or spiral arms, no whirlpool shape, not even an elliptical structure. Instead, the stars traced a thin crescent, like a new moon.

It was as if someone had poured a glowing galaxy into this building to light the way for its people.

Her dumpling avatar craned her head back in awe. Meanwhile, NPCs around her were unfazed: some hurried past holding glowing tablets, some walked out of shops trailed by robotic butlers carrying bags…

Futuristic atmosphere radiated everywhere.

“Sir!”

A soft mechanical female voice called from behind her. Qian Yuan turned to see a uniformed robot waving at a skateboarding NPC in midair. “Commander Lu Di will arrive in ten minutes! All hover devices are temporarily prohibited in the mall—please come down at once!”

Three exclamation marks popped above the skater’s head, and he nearly fell. The crowd buzzed.

“Commander Lu Di? Didn’t expect to run into Major General Lu today!”
“He’ll be here in ten minutes? Let’s wait. Last time I saw him was at the Imperial Capital Oath Ceremony.”
“Ever since his promotion three years ago, he’s rarely appeared in public.”

Lu Di, a high-ranking figure?

Story-related characters often tied back to the protagonist. Qian Yuan made a mental note of the name.

The mall was the largest in the capital, eight stories tall, filled with throngs of customers. Qian Yuan wandered freely through the crowd, browsing store after store.

In reality, she hadn’t been to a mall in ages. It felt refreshing. She lingered longer than expected.

Clothes came in all styles: sharp suits, cute pajamas, casual sportswear. She stopped before an extravagant evening gown, glanced at the endless string of zeros on the price tag, and sighed.

“These outfits are so expensive…” Dazzled, she muttered, “If I had more money, I’d fill Cen Han’s closet and dress him differently every day…”

Suddenly, a glowing pop-up appeared: 【LIMITED-TIME SPECIAL OFFER!】

Qian Yuan: “…”

A game with a 10-to-1 currency ratio still trying to tempt her into spending? She scoffed inwardly, poor enough to shut the window without hesitation.

Finally, she found a men’s shop with discounts. Spending 100 Star Coins, she bought an off-white long winter coat and had a delivery robot send it to Cen Han’s home.

Compared to the convenience store, she saved 20 coins—and the style was nicer. The extra 5 stamina was worth it.

Her brows arched happily as she logged off, eager to see Cen Han’s face when he opened the gift.

…

The Imperial Capital was the main planet of the Crescent Galaxy, home of the Imperial family. Its residents were watched more closely than any others. Being born there was both an honor and a burden.

It wasn’t a time of complete peace. With population growth stalled, every academy on the capital planet was required to run physical and psychological evaluations each semester, ensuring the young could grow into useful citizens or soldiers.

That afternoon was psychological testing day. The classroom was nearly empty. Cen Han sat in the corner, staring at a desk stained red with some unknown liquid, before turning his gaze away indifferently.

He sat quietly, dazed.

Ever since the incident, he avoided these evaluations. The outside doctors didn’t know who he was, so they didn’t sneer the way his classmates did. Still, he refused to go.

The thought of stripping for them to press on his limp, atrophied legs—or baring his darkest emotions, his weakness—was unbearable.

Tested students trickled back, working practice sheets on their tablets. Cen Han sat stiffly until dismissal.

Winter days darkened quickly. Few lingered at school. In the quiet hall, he turned his wheelchair.

The infirmary door glowed faintly from within. Someone was still inside.

After the first confusion and fear, Cen Han rarely wondered what that glowing ghost really was. Illusion or reality, it didn’t matter.

But…

He looked at the door.

After his father’s disgrace, it was as if the sky had collapsed. His grandfather, a lifelong soldier, should have enjoyed peace in retirement—but collapsed in anger, never waking again. Friends drifted away, admirers turned cold.

His mother had been pregnant, emotions unstable. Overnight she withered. Soon after, she moved them out of the capital, changed his school, and tried to help her son recover.

But she too couldn’t hold on.

He had seen her breakdowns: muttering to empty air, clawing her own throat in madness, sobbing uncontrollably when lucid—until she took her own life.

When the door was pushed open, he saw her last: stiff legs dangling lifelessly.

A tragedy.

He exhaled softly, recalling his noon confusion.

If it was all illusion, then why couldn’t he hear its voice?

His mother had… auditory hallucinations.

But the nutrient fluid, the hot noodles—those spoke of a ghost that truly existed.

If he opened this door, he could know for sure.

But would people believe him? Or would they look at him the way he had once looked at his mother?

Voices drifted from the not-fully-shut door. Across the courtyard, classroom lights winked out one by one. Cen Han suddenly shut his eyes, breath stifled, tugging at his collar.

Go back, he told himself.

Believers know their god is real. No one else can understand.

He chose to be a believer.

The post-snow streets of the slum were muddy, a torment for his chair. But he hurried anyway.

He unlocked the door and opened it.

Inside, there was no faint glow.

“…”

The light in his eyes dimmed.

He wheeled to the desk, planning to prepare as many parts as possible to sell at tomorrow’s black market. He’d known these machines since childhood; simple ones he could fix blindfolded.

He was about to remove his optic membrane when he noticed something.

A box sat on the bed. Its logo was familiar—an Imperial men’s brand.

A guess flickered through him. His lashes trembled, and he reached to turn on the lamp.

ִֶָ. ..𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ🦋་༘࿐

Because she had stayed up too late the night before, when Qian Yuan entered the game the next day, Cen Han had already finished his morning classes and come home for lunch.

Yesterday it had snowed heavily all day. The snow on the streets outside was high enough to cover a person’s foot. But early that morning, the low-level junk-recycling robots had already cleared a narrow road.

Since one of the city’s junkyards sat right in the slums, there were plenty of robots there, which allowed Cen Han to travel smoothly.

Normally, whenever he returned from school, his mood value in the diary would plummet. But this day was different—the numbers stayed green.

Qian Yuan patted his small shoulder while he tinkered with a broken mechanical part, tilting her head curiously, trying to communicate with him telepathically.

But clearly, he couldn’t follow her train of thought.

The little ghost clung to his shoulder, poking her round head forward, eyes bright with curiosity. The moment she appeared, Cen Han slipped on his optic membrane. He frowned slightly, then glanced at the mess of mechanical fragments and tools scattered across the desk. After a moment, he seemed to understand something.

He leaned over, fetched a beginner’s mechanics book from the cabinet, and handed it to the ghost.

“This one is easier to follow,” he said briefly, rubbing at his temple. “You can read it.”

Then he paused, tilted his head, and gestured with his chin at a new cardboard box sitting in the corner. “Zhang San told me to meet him tomorrow night at the black market. I had him sell some parts for me. You… don’t need to go find food anymore.”

—He was the only one who could see the ghost. Though he had no idea how it managed to bring food, he guessed it wasn’t easy.

His voice carried a trace of fatigue as he spoke, his dumpling face stern. Then he turned back to his repairs. Qian Yuan, meanwhile, looked blankly at the book suddenly shoved into her arms, tilting her head in confusion.

…The child in the game telling her not to raise him? What was she supposed to do with that? Online now, waiting for urgent answers.

And this book—what did he mean by this? Forcing a high-school dropout to read textbooks inside a game was seriously too much.

Qian Yuan muttered inwardly.

Still, curiosity won out. She opened the book.

Its material was special—like colored glass, but soft and thin, smooth to the touch. The printed words shimmered faintly at the edges.

Perhaps in this game, books weren’t made from wood. Which wasn’t surprising—this was a game, after all. Strange rules were everywhere.

She skimmed through a few pages and quickly felt overwhelmed.

Clearly, the writers had studied their sci-fi carefully. The text was well-constructed, but crammed with technical jargon she couldn’t understand.

She put down the “celestial scripture,” and to reassure herself she still knew how to read, quietly opened Cen Han’s diary.

【November 6, 4:00 AM】
【Cen Han went to the junkyard.】
【Cen Han collected scraps.】

【November 6, 5:30 AM】
【Cen Han built mechanical parts from scraps.】
【Cen Han repaired fragments.】

【November 6, 7:00 AM】
【Cen Han waited at the intersection.】
【Cen Han kept sneezing. He might have caught a cold.】

【November 6, 7:30 AM】
【Cen Han met Zhang San.】
【Cen Han went to school.】

…

The diary continued for a long way, but Qian Yuan no longer had the mood to read.

Her eyes widened at the snow-mud stuck to the wheels of his chair, then at the mechanical scraps in his hands.

She’d logged off at 2 AM. Cen Han had gone scavenging at 4 AM. Did that mean he hadn’t slept at all—or just two hours?

No wonder his voice had sounded so off earlier, so tired. After staying up, he’d still waited outside in the freezing cold with thin clothes…

Qian Yuan frowned deeply.

The next second, Cen Han suddenly froze mid-action at the desk.

A hand reached from the side, tilting his chin toward it. The touch wasn’t forceful, but he instinctively wanted to turn away—yet his eyes couldn’t escape the ghost’s expression.

It was a smiling face, but with drooping corners, almost crestfallen. And somehow… worried.

…Worried?

Was it worried about him?

The ghost’s mouth opened and closed silently, as if speaking. After a moment, it released him and darted across the room.

Cen Han’s black eyes followed, lips pressed tight.

…If only he could hear it.

The thought surfaced unbidden. He caught himself, startled by his own greed. But like a sprout touched by rain, it grew instantly, unstoppable.

A screw slipped from his fingers, clinking against the desk. He quickly pinned it down, distracted.

…Why couldn’t he hear it?

He sat silent, lost in thought—until the ghost came huffing back and shoved something into his hand.

He looked down. A bottle of nutrient fluid.

The cardboard box he’d pointed at earlier had been opened. The ghost pressed one hand on the table, the other on his chair, its bright eyes locked on him.

It didn’t speak, but Cen Han inexplicably understood.

It had seen his exhaustion and wanted him to replenish his strength.

“…”

Outside, clouds scattered, and soft midday light spilled inside. Cen Han froze for an instant. A strange feeling rose to his tongue, but he forced it down.

He lowered his gaze abruptly, lashes trembling as if to hide something. Almost nervously, he began: “I…”

But he never finished.

The ghost seemed to remember something, gave a look of sudden realization, and took the bottle back—then opened it.

It leaned closer, raising the mouth of the bottle to his lips.

As if about to feed him.

Cen Han: “…”

His complicated thoughts evaporated. His face went blank.

Why did this ghost always try to feed him? As if… as if he were a little child.

…

His throat bobbed faintly.

Since the day he became self-aware, no one had fed him.

Even three years ago, when he’d barely survived and lay in the hospital swaddled in bandages, he had never allowed anyone to feed him.

But sometimes, a single familiar gesture could trigger everything. Memories never forgotten replayed.

“Eat a little, please. You can’t go on like this. Just eat a little…”

The boy, swathed in thick bandages, sat up in bed and hysterically slapped away his mother’s food tray.

Outside the hospital, reporters blocked the entrance, their voices sharp and cold as they rose into the air, seeping up into the fourth-floor ward.

Eyes peered through the glass in the door, whispering indistinctly, their stares heavy with suspicion.

And after discharge—came the interrogation.

“What do you know about your father’s treason? Did he ever mention his plans?”
“You were on the ship at the time—why were you there? What were you doing?”
“You were the only survivor of the explosion. How did you escape? Did your father arrange your escape?”

Suspicion and scrutiny left him nowhere to hide under glaring spotlights. Imperial officers looked down on him coldly, while lie-detecting robots strode closer, blue, emotionless eyes reflected on his despairing face.

“Inject him. Start the machine—”

“Snap.”

A crisp sound. Cen Han jolted awake, pupils refocusing, expression calm again. He saw the ghost lowering the empty bottle from his lips and turning on the lamp.

Its glow was warm and soft—worlds apart from the cold light of machines.

The bottle was empty. Somehow, without realizing, he had let it feed him again.

And then, it had even patted his hair, as if rewarding a child for eating obediently.

“…”

Color flushed faintly across his pale face. A hint of frustration flickered in his dark eyes.

Silent for a long time, he finally sighed softly, almost mocking himself, pressing his knuckle against his brow.

ִֶָ. ..𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ🦋་༘࿐

The atmosphere in the room turned strangely tense.

After his first burst of anger and shock, Zhang San seemed to remember something. His expression shifted awkwardly, embarrassment twisting his face. Cen Han, however, remained cold and detached, sitting off to the side with his eyes lowered, waiting to see how the “ghost” and Zhang San would interact.

But what Cen Han didn’t expect was that after fumbling for a while, Zhang San actually turned toward him and stammered, “Thanks, kid…”

He stopped short, forcing down the familiar derogatory word that almost slipped out, then added stiffly, “About before… sorry, I—”

Something unpleasant clearly came to mind, cutting him off again. His face turned pale, then flushed. He didn’t want to admit he’d been duped by his own underlings, so all he managed was, “…I wronged you.”

Cen Han blinked faintly, frowning. He shot a quick glance at the ghost beside him.

He didn’t care about Zhang San’s inner turmoil. Instead, another thought occurred.

…Could it be that Zhang San couldn’t see it?

Was he the only one who could?

That unexpected realization lifted a little of the weight pressing down on him. Cen Han’s mood lightened, the gloom in his eyes receding.

“Hey, what’s with that attitude?”

As expected, Zhang San was impossible to like. Seeing Cen Han ignore him, he raised his voice angrily: “You think I’m the same as those interstellar pirates? I’ll tell you this—your nutrient solution, I’ll get it back to you tomorrow! I live clean, I—”

“No need,” Cen Han said coolly. “If you take me to the black market.”

Qian Yuan, who had been checking if the side quest reward had gone through, snapped her head up.

—The quest description had mentioned Zhang San’s black market contacts. She’d been puzzling over how to get her cub connected to them. She hadn’t expected Cen Han to take the initiative!

Zhang San froze.

The black market wasn’t off-limits, but it wasn’t a place ordinary students would wander into. It wasn’t as terrifying as some imagined, but smugglers, mercenary groups, and wanted men did turn up there. It was illegal ground under the Empire’s law.

Probably connecting it to Cen Han’s background, Zhang San’s face shifted into wariness. For all his poverty, his own life was worth more than a few boxes of nutrient solution.

Suspicious, he asked, “What do you want there?”

Cen Han saw straight through him, the air around him growing heavier as he forced patience. “Sell mechanical parts.”

All these years, he’d used Uncle Tang to trade with the black market, always giving the man a small fee.

But after what he’d overheard recently, Cen Han couldn’t bear to impose further.

If he wanted to survive in the New Moon Star, he had no choice but to go himself—especially to the inner circle, where people cared little for Imperial loyalty. Perhaps they wouldn’t reject him for who he was.

The boy’s eyes dimmed briefly—until Zhang San suddenly shouted, “Mechanical parts?! You can make those things?”

Mechanical engineering was exclusive to the Academy of Mechanics. Education on the Imperial Capital Star was divided into four stages: early childhood learning guided by parents, robots, and AI; five years in a junior academy; six years in a higher academy during youth.

Graduates usually went straight into work, but a few aimed for even tougher vocational schools—like the military or mechanics academies.

Exams were brutal, and competition fierce. Only a fraction graduated, but those who did became stars of the Empire.

No wonder Zhang San was shocked. To him, uneducated and untrained, making machines was unthinkable. After his surprise, seeing Cen Han’s calm face, he understood.

With his background, it wasn’t strange that Cen Han had learned. Jealousy gnawed at him, but he grudgingly nodded.

“Kid… if you’re just selling parts, I might know someone.” He eyed Cen Han. “But only if you’re not planning something stupid. If you get me killed, I’ll kick you out of that chair and into a recycler’s annihilation box first.”

What an attitude!

Even if the goal was achieved, Qian Yuan couldn’t help the angry bubble that popped above her dumpling head. She wanted to dump nutrient solution on his head, but all she had left were two precious packs of instant noodles.

While she hesitated, Cen Han only nodded faintly, watching Zhang San leave. He seemed unaffected by the harsh words—or maybe, he was simply used to them.

Qian Yuan pressed her lips together. She wanted to pat Cen Han’s head, but before she could, he hesitated, then looked at her. His round cartoon face was blank.

“Will you go with me?”

[November 6, 2:00 a.m.]
[Cen Han longs for the player’s company.]

“…”

Qian Yuan’s little heart gave a tremor. She almost answered out loud.

Thankfully, reason returned. She ran to the door and pressed her hand against it, pulling up the scene selection. Two new options had unlocked thanks to leveling and story progress.

Her avatar nodded hard, round dumpling face smiling brightly. “Of course.”

After logging off, Qian Yuan couldn’t sleep. She lay on her stomach with her phone.

A new message on WeChat startled her. She rarely got any. Sure enough, it was from her father.

[Through Wind and Rain]: Back in Rong City soon. Let’s eat Friday.

[Through Wind and Rain]: I’ll introduce you to a friend. [grin]

“…”

She hesitated, then slowly typed back one word: “Okay.”

Switching apps, she opened QQ. He Shang had sent a private message about the photo exhibition.

She transferred him money for the ticket, glancing at the date.

December 25.

She exhaled. Over a month away. Enough time to steel herself.

Still, the date nagged her. Where had she seen it recently? She couldn’t recall.

…Maybe it was just because it was Christmas. Stores had already begun their promotions. People in the guild chat had shared mall photos, Rong City dressed up in red and green.

Thinking so, she yawned, tapped her screen dark, and curled under the covers.

ִֶָ. ..𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ🦋་༘࿐