Even so, the NPC teacher gritted his teeth and held it together. “Then what should we do with her?”
Fu Changxun looked genuinely shocked. “Even teacher doesn’t know what to do?”
He put on a convincing act, frowning as if in deep thought. “Well… I guess there’s no other choice. I’ll just have to make a little sacrifice and take care of her until we find her parents.”
NPC: “……”
So that’s your real goal, huh?!
But at this point, there wasn’t much the teacher could do. Class was about to start, the bell had already rung, and everything Fu Changxun had done technically fell within the boundaries of the instance’s rules. He had no reason to be thrown out, so naturally, he remained safe and sound.
Xiao Xiao had clung to his neck the entire way upstairs as he ran, only now daring to loosen her grip.
She knew full well how terrible Fu-ge’s stamina was—he must’ve been at his limit just getting her here. Quickly, she jumped down and looked up at the NPC with big, innocent eyes.
The teacher frowned slightly, then motioned for her to sit at the very back of the classroom before beginning the lesson.
Meanwhile, the four other players didn’t even dare to breathe too loudly. After what happened with the Chinese teacher NPC, they were terrified this one might follow the same pattern—no questions asked, just toss people straight out.
Fortunately, this one seemed to have a better temper.
Fu Changxun took his seat, though no one noticed the thin layer of sweat in his palm—bringing Xiao Xiao inside had definitely been a gamble.
But there hadn’t been a better option. Leaving her outside meant she’d be facing the monsters alone.
Thankfully, he remembered from earlier observation that among all the teachers, the Chinese teacher had the worst temper, while the English teacher was the most mild-mannered. That might’ve had something to do with the NPCs they were modeled after.
“Let’s all turn to page…”
A tense and exhausting morning passed in a blur of lectures from the various NPC teachers.
By now, the players had wised up—no one dared break the rules again. The NPCs had nothing to latch onto, and so they kept a watchful eye on the quiet girl in the back, hoping she’d turn out to be some little troublemaker who’d stir something up.
But Xiao Xiao had spent years in isolation—keeping to herself was what she did best. Even with nothing to entertain her, she could sit motionless in place for hours on end.
Finally, at 11:30, the lunch bell rang, signaling the midday break.
The student NPCs rushed out in a frenzy, stampeding toward the cafeteria, while the players gathered into a loose circle.
After Fu Changxun’s “bold” move before English class, the way the others looked at him had changed noticeably—no more casual dismissiveness.
And besides…
One of the players couldn’t help asking, “Is this kid a player or an NPC?”
Xiao Xiao: “Pfft.”
She did have experience pretending to be an NPC, after all!
But this time, there was no need for the act. Fu Changxun explained, “No, she’s my little sister. We got separated when we entered the game.”
Xiao Xiao chimed in with a polite, “Nice to meet you, gege, jiejie,” and only then did the others relax their guard.
One of the female players asked directly, “Do you guys have a strategy guide? I’ll trade props for it if you do.”
She was completely serious. “You’ve probably realized it too—this instance is way too complex and dangerous. I can’t get through it in one piece on my own.”
Fu Changxun sighed lightly and shook his head. Then, with a straight face, he started spouting total nonsense: “I don’t have a guide—just a little foresight, that’s all.”
Qiu Yi had just arrived, walking up from the second-floor classroom: “……”
He silently slipped to the side, catching Xiao Xiao’s eye and giving her a quick zip-it gesture.
Let the good doctor spin his tale.
And sure enough, Fu Changxun didn’t disappoint Director Qiu’s expectations. Without missing a beat, he invented an ability on the spot: “It’s my ability. I can foresee certain things inside the instance. Helps me avoid some of the guaranteed-death options. Of course, it doesn’t work all the time—otherwise I’d have cleared the game already.”
The female player looked disappointed but still extended an olive branch. “Then… can I team up with you?”
Fu Changxun glanced toward the other three male players. They all hesitated, exchanging awkward looks.
Clearly, they’d already pegged Fu Changxun as a high-level player with a powerful ability and a ton of points. If they wanted to survive and walk away with a good score, following him was the best bet.
At the same time, they also realized something else—if they joined him, they wouldn’t be able to contribute enough to earn a big share of the rewards. He’d be eating meat while they got scraps.
The female player had clearly accepted that tradeoff. Her priority was staying alive.
As for the three male players, whether out of pride or greed, they ended up forming their own trio and distancing themselves.
Not even the one who’d used a 100-point healing item—essentially saved by Fu Changxun—chose to partner with him.
So Fu Changxun asked, “What’s your ability?”
The woman had no interest in persuading or warning off the other players. She simply introduced herself. “I’m Huang Yue. My ability is duplication—exactly what it sounds like.”
As she spoke, she picked up a textbook with her left hand, and in the blink of an eye, an identical one appeared in her right.
“It’s duplication in the physical sense. I can’t copy living things, but I can replicate the same object multiple times.”
The ability didn’t have much offensive potential, and Huang Yue always laid everything out clearly during introductions. It was the fastest way to build trust with new teammates.
Fu Changxun immediately understood her game plan—this player relied on allies to clear instances.
Her power wasn’t strong, and she didn’t have any real-life friends entering the game with her. So she chose to form temporary alliances during the game. It was a smart strategy—safe, steady, and gave her a decent shot at survival every time.
A clever person.
It wasn’t hard to come up with this kind of approach. The hard part was actually doing it.
Some people didn’t dare reveal their abilities. Others were too paranoid about being stabbed in the back—or actively planning to do the stabbing themselves. They spent the whole game watching their teammates instead of watching the instance.
How could anyone survive like that?
“I’m Fu,” Fu Changxun said casually. “I’m a doctor—call me whatever you like. This is Qiu, and my little sister’s name is Xiao Xiao. I already told you what my ability is. As for theirs, neither of their abilities are particularly strong. You can pretty much ignore them.”
Half-truths, half-lies—just enough to be convincing.
“We mostly rely on items anyway.”
Huang Yue’s eyes lit up with envy. “So loaded. Absolutely filthy rich. Ge, just carry me through the game—I’ll follow whatever orders, no complaints.”
That said, Fu Changxun obviously wasn’t going to throw a petite girl with a non-combat ability into the frontlines.
He shook his head and said, “There are only seven players here. We’re still missing six.”
“Two of those six are our teammates—we need to find them. It’s 11:45 now. Classes resume at 2:30 in the afternoon…”
Qiu Yi glanced at his watch and did a quick calculation. “That gives us two hours and forty-five minutes to search the school!”
“We also need to subtract mealtime,” Fu Changxun added, rubbing his stomach. “Haven’t you all started to feel a bit hungry? That must be part of the student identity effect.”
No one had noticed before, but as soon as he mentioned it, everyone immediately felt the hunger pangs.
Qiu Yi’s expression changed. “Crap—if we go to the cafeteria now, will there be any food left?”
High school students fought for lunch like their lives depended on it. Even if they could compete, they were late. Way too late. How were they supposed to survive the afternoon classes without eating?
They turned and looked toward the other three players, who had already bolted in the direction of the cafeteria.
Fu Changxun let out a casual “Ah,” and waved his hand. “Don’t worry. That’s not a problem.”
As he spoke, he rummaged through his desk and, surprisingly, pulled out a phone.
It was an old model—looked like something from seven years ago.
He pressed his thumb to it, and it actually unlocked with a fingerprint scan. The home screen popped up immediately.
But the phone only had a handful of apps: messaging, calling, camera, and music.
“…Is that your phone?” Huang Yue was completely lost. The phone was clearly part of the instance—not a player ability, and not an item either. So how the hell did it unlock with his fingerprint?
Fu Changxun didn’t answer her question. Instead, he handed it to her. “Make a few copies.”
Hands trembling slightly, Huang Yue duplicated three identical phones. One of them was handed back to her.
“Everyone gets one,” Fu Changxun explained. “You can text yourself, and the messages will sync to the other phones. That way, even if we get separated or split up, we don’t need to use the broadcast system. Too much risk involved there.”
He paused, then added, “Keep this phone business a secret for now. The important thing is—we’ve got lunch sorted.”
With practiced ease, he dialed a number and spoke like someone greeting an old friend. “Yeah—add the pork ribs. We’ve got four people here. Four servings. Thanks.”
Everyone else: “???”
What the hell? Did he just order takeout??
Would the instance allow deliveries? Could the delivery guy even get in?
“Relax. Trust in the professionalism of food delivery workers. If it can be delivered, we won’t go hungry.”
Four pork rib lunchboxes. If the instance was a faithful recreation of that real-life high school, then the food street outside should exist too. Otherwise, the copy would be incomplete.
And even if it didn’t work, it wasn’t a huge loss—worst case, they could still raid the school store.
Back in his high school days, Fu Changxun did have a good-student persona on the surface, but in private? He definitely knew all the loopholes.
After placing the order, he ignored the unspoken questions lingering in everyone’s eyes and abruptly changed the subject.
“By the way, Xiao Xiao’s clearly not in a student role. I suspect she’s the daughter of one of the teachers—”
Xiao Xiao pointed at herself, mouth open wide. “Me? I’m a teacher’s kid?”
“Technically, yes. That’s your current identity,” Fu Changxun replied. “If I’m right, then your role might be really important. If our investigation goes well, you could be the key to solving this mystery.”
Xiao Xiao’s eyes widened. “I’m the key? Whoa, ge, I’m that important this time?”
“You bet,” Fu Changxun said, crouching to tidy up her hair. Somehow, he’d found two rubber bands and was now trying to tie her hair into a ponytail.
“Then does that mean we’ll run into a lot of monsters? Ge, I’m not scared—but you have to protect me!”
“Of course.”
After fumbling for a while, he finally tied her hair into two simple little pigtails and stood up.
“No matter what happens, your safety is the most important thing.”
They could leave the mystery unsolved. Worst case, survive ten days and walk out with the minimum rewards.
But Xiao Xiao was one of a kind—completely irreplaceable.
Was there even a question about who mattered more?
She was the treasure—the beloved child of Xu Zhengyi, of both him and Dong Zi, and of the entire Special Affairs Office.
