Maybe he thought it was just another illusion from the dorm matron’s mental attacks—Fu Changxun didn’t move forward right away.
“It’s me.”
Dong Zi looked stunned himself. He stepped up and touched Fu Changxun’s forehead. “Are you okay? Of course I’m real. You’re not dreaming. It’s not an illusion.”
Only then did Fu Changxun slowly reach out to touch him.
“AAAH—AAAHHH—!”
The dorm matron screamed as thick blood poured from a gaping slash across her mouth.
She let out a piercing, bone-chilling shriek and lunged at Dong Zi. “I’ll eat you! I’ll eat you!”
Dong Zi didn’t even look back. He swung his blade behind him in a perfect arc, landing another clean hit right on her gaping maw—tearing the split wider into a ragged fissure. Her face was almost cleaved in half.
Writhing in agony, she finally realized this man was too strong. If she stayed, she’d be killed for real.
She wasn’t weak overall, but her psychic attacks were useless here. The boss had no choice but to retreat, limping away in the opposite direction.
Dong Zi didn’t chase her. She was lucky.
She’d only made it a dozen steps when another blade came slicing through the air, fast and sharp.
Lulu had already stationed herself at the far end of the hallway, waiting for the boss to flee straight into her trap.
The warrior Lulu, second only to Dong Zi in combat strength, hacked the dorm matron into a bloody mess, leaving her twitching on the floor.
“Heh, think you can kill us? Try again in your next life!” Lulu wiped her blade like a bandit, tossed the corpse aside, and jogged over. “Dr. Fu—are you okay?”
Fu Changxun opened his mouth and finally smiled. “I’m great.”
Everyone was here.
The weight that had been clenching around his chest since the moment he entered the instance finally lifted.
Dong Zi exhaled deeply too. He sheathed his blade and pulled Fu Changxun into his arms, holding him tightly. “I finally found you.”
They’d only been apart for two days, but both had already walked the edge of death more than once.
***
Rewind to the previous day.
On the first evening of the game, Dong Zi and Lulu had helped Li Menghan get revenge on the scumbag.
Through the school broadcast, Li Menghan and over a dozen girls took turns angrily recounting the upperclassman’s misdeeds, even playing audio recordings of his conversations. The entire school heard it—teachers, the principal, everyone.
These girls had risked their reputations to nail this two-timing, seamlessly scheming jerk to the wall of shame.
But they weren’t met with backlash. When a few boys tried to blame the girls, parroting victim-blaming rhetoric, even more girls stood up.
“Girls lack self-respect? If the guys weren’t scheming and manipulative, there’d be nothing to expose.”
“Excuse me? I think that guy’s the one who’s shameless. Ever heard of male virtue? Going around hitting on a bunch of girls and taking zero responsibility?”
“Right? I’m worried that guy’s got some disease. We’d better steer clear of him from now on…”
“Ugh, disgusting.”
They took the words boys usually used to shame girls, flipped them slightly, and threw them back—almost word for word. The boys were left red-faced and fuming.
Yeah, only those who’ve experienced it firsthand know how vicious words can really be.
Lulu and Dong Zi had just discovered the existence of this parallel space and were climbing the stairs from the first floor.
Hearing the heated argument in the classroom, they both stopped.
“I just remembered,” Dong Zi said suddenly. “Back before we entered high school, I think a girl died here—rumors said it was suicide from academic stress. But now… I’m guessing that was a lie cooked up by the school to cover up the scandal. The girl was Li Menghan.”
Lulu swore. “So the girl actually died, and the guy just vanished cleanly from responsibility? Probably still out there living just fine.”
This instance was nothing but a pretty lie—crafted to patch up a broken dream.
Those girls standing up and resisting… were just NPCs. Not real.
The livestream’s chat paused for a long moment. Then the comments exploded.
[That scumbag can go die!]
[Why the hell isn’t he in this instance? Let Li Menghan get her revenge!]
[Honestly, I hope he already got shredded in another instance. No need to torment victims or disgust viewers any further.]
[Screw that—he better die in front of me!]
[Wait—did no one else notice that lone wolf player? His side profile looked just like that scumbag. Or am I seeing things?]
[HOLY—so it wasn’t just me?! Streamer, streamer, go check!!]
Just as the chat was erupting again, Lulu’s heart skipped a beat. She quickly told Dong Zi, “That lone wolf player might be suspicious.”
Dong Zi didn’t even have time to respond before a group of girls came pouring downstairs together.
Li Menghan was among them. When she saw them, she spoke softly, “Thank you.”
“No problem at all,” Lulu quickly waved her hand. “Do you need help with anything else?”
Li Menghan shook her head and was just about to bid them farewell when a voice suddenly called from behind her.
“Li Menghan.”
The girl turned reflexively—only to be met with the flash of a dagger.
“You—”
She stared in disbelief at the person in front of her.
It was that lone wolf player. He’d kept his head down the entire time, silent and unassuming. Now that he looked up, she could finally see his face—and he really did resemble that scumbag senior from her past. He looked older, more mature now, likely pushing thirty.
Without hesitation, he plunged the prop knife straight into Li Menghan’s chest and said coldly, “You chose to kill yourself back then and dragged me down with you. I had to transfer schools, and I didn’t get into a good college. I’ve always—”
He didn’t get to finish.
Dong Zi had already drawn his prop knife and, with a sharp clang, sliced the attacker’s blade clean in half.
The knife in Dong Zi’s hand was a lifetime-bound item left to him by Xu Zhengyi—not something you could buy from the Game Shop. It wasn’t some flashy decorative blade—it was the real deal.
The lone wolf player was dumbfounded.
What the hell just happened?
Dong Zi caught Li Menghan’s collapsing body and, without missing a beat, tossed her to Lulu before turning the blade on the lone wolf.
“So you’re that senior.”
No wonder they’d been pulled into this particular instance. Apparently, it wasn’t just him and Ah Xun—other players were connected to the scenario too.
His voice grew increasingly scornful as he spoke. “I can’t stand people like you. You screw up your own life, then blame everyone else for it.”
At that moment, his expression bore a strangely familiar resemblance to Fu Changxun’s.
The lone wolf sensed things turning against him and rushed to justify himself. “But we’re the players! We’re the ones who are alive! She’s just an NPC—you’re not seriously going to kill a real player over a fucking NPC, are you? If we kill her, the ghost story gets resolved!”
Yes, he was the “real senior,” but he couldn’t comprehend what it meant to empathize with an NPC.
Even though he was the one who had once spent every waking moment with Li Menghan, inseparable as shadows.
Dong Zi hesitated slightly, the hand holding his blade pausing in the air.
He glanced over at Lulu, who was already healing Li Menghan. But in the next second, he pointed the blade back at the senior.
[Ding-dong!]
[Campus Horror Tale #1: “Shadow in the Corridor” has been resolved! Players, please continue your efforts—four ghost stories remain!]
The system’s announcement rang in their ears. But… weren’t they dealing with the girl who jumped off the building? What corridor shadow?
Lulu had just finished healing Li Menghan when the message played. Her mind leapt instantly to the idea of parallel spaces, and she lit up with excitement.
“It must’ve been Dr. Fu and Director Qiu! They must’ve solved one on their side!” she exclaimed. Then to Dong Zi: “Let’s finish this ghost story too, so they know how we’re doing!”
The lone wolf player kept arguing, desperate. “Okay, yeah, maybe I was a little too flirty back then, but I’m the real one who’s alive now! You wouldn’t actually kill me on a livestream with all these people watching, right?”
In the livestream:
[No no no, I absolutely don’t mind!]
[Scumbag. He’s basically a murderer. Not even a shred of remorse?]
[I saw nothing. Nope, I’m blind. Totally blind…]
[I’m happy to pretend I didn’t see a thing. You wanna beat him up, curse him out, kill him—go right ahead.]
[I’m furious. Low-dimensional player, please do us a favor and kill him. I won’t mind at all.]
[Wait, why the hell is there a high-dimensional being in the chat again?]
Dong Zi suddenly had a revelation. “Right—you just reminded me. Lulu, kill the stream.”
“On it,” Lulu said instantly. “Let’s fuck him up.”
Dong Zi flipped the blade and used the flat of it to beat the crap out of the guy.
By the time he was done, the lone wolf player was bruised and swollen, limping away in a sorry state.
Dong Zi had broken one of his legs—not because he was afraid to kill, but because, as a current member of the Special Affairs Office, he still had to follow protocol. He couldn’t let personal emotions dictate his actions.
Li Menghan had regained consciousness by now. “You saved me? Thank you… thank you so, so much…”
The system chimed again—ding ding ding—before broadcasting another update:
[Campus Horror Tale #2: “The Suicidal Spirit” has been resolved! Players, please continue your efforts—three ghost stories remain!]
Lulu’s eyes went wide.
She’d assumed it would be much harder to resolve a ghost story.
Turns out, as long as the ghost itself felt it had found peace, the instance considered it resolved.
“Oh right—if possible, you should check the equipment room,” Li Menghan said, her tone sounding almost like a mission NPC. “It’s just below the viewing platform on the field. You might find something there.”
After giving them that tip, she said goodbye and went off to catch up with her sisters.
Dong Zi watched her retreating figure and murmured, “If she really is Li Menghan’s soul, then staying here in the instance isn’t such a bad ending. At least it’s a kind of… living.”
Lulu nodded reflexively. Then she realized something and blurted out, “Whoa, Dong Zi—just now… you really were a lot like Dr. Fu. You two are definitely getting that ‘married couple’ look.”
Married couple look…
Dong Zi kept a straight face, but he was grinning inside.
They headed off toward the equipment room, with Lulu giggling the whole way and squealing, “kswl” under her breath.
The equipment room door was already half-broken—it swung open with a push. Inside, a chaotic mess of instruments lay scattered across the floor.
“So… is this the third ghost story?” Lulu looked around at the thick dust coating everything, but couldn’t detect anything out of the ordinary. “Why else would she tell us to come here?”
