To the left of the General’s Platform was the ceremonial altar—commoners occasionally came here to pray or leave offerings.
There was a woman there now.
She laid down a handful of wildflowers, the kind that grew abundantly on nearby hillsides. But she didn’t kneel or bow. Instead, she let out a faint, nearly inaudible sigh and turned to leave.
“What’s up with her?” Zhao-jie whispered to Fu Changxun, frowning.
He tilted his chin subtly. “She’s different from the others. She’s not reverent at all.”
Since the platform was commissioned by the emperor, most commoners came with respectful reverence. But this woman, though she brought flowers, showed more grief than reverence. It wasn’t a prayer—it was a memorial.
And the only people you mourn at the General’s Platform… are the dead.
It could only be the former General.
That much made sense—perhaps she had once known him personally.
“Should we follow her?”
Dong Zi gave a glance, then looked away. “She’s very cautious. I doubt we’ll get anything out of her directly.”
Fu Changxun said, “Let’s follow her anyway. At least find out where she lives. If she really is connected to the former General, we’ll confirm it soon enough.”
Zhao-jie watched the two of them decide on their next steps in just a few lines, like it was second nature. Not only was she left out of the discussion—she felt distinctly sidelined.
She couldn’t help blurting out, “That’s it? You’re not going to ask me—or any of the other players—for help?”
Dong Zi looked genuinely puzzled. “What would you help with?”
Zhao-jie wiped her face and gave them a tired smile. “You still don’t know what my ability is, do you? It’s weak. I can enter people’s dreams—but only for five minutes.”
Fu Changxun’s eyes lit up. He said softly, “That’s perfect. Jie, tonight you can enter her dream.”
Zhao-jie: “…I already know you’re not weak. No need to keep pretending.”
Fu Changxun: “…”
He covered his face. “Ahem. Sorry. Habit. Kind of hard to shake.”
Zhao-jie: “So… can I come with you?”
Fu Changxun didn’t answer right away. He looked around and asked, “Where are the newbies you were guiding?”
“I handed them off to Swift Step. Since we discovered the clue about the General’s Platform together, he suggested I come check things out here while he takes care of the newcomers.”
She finished with a pointed look at the two so-called newbie players—as if silently calling them out for slacking.
Fu Changxun grinned. “Jie, I just didn’t want the veteran players to start in-fighting. Nothing personal, okay?”
“…Also, keep this between us for now.”
With that, the conversation ended. Zhao-jie had no choice but to reluctantly agree to keep their cover.
Fu Changxun turned his gaze back toward the General’s Platform.
Dong Zi gave a quiet cough—the woman had already stepped down from the altar. The three of them quickly trailed after her.
The woman was extremely alert—almost too deliberate. She didn’t keep glancing over her shoulder, but she stuck closely to busy streets and crowded marketplaces. It would’ve been easy to lose her, but Dong Zi, being tall and conspicuous, kept her locked in his line of sight.
Once they reached a quieter area, Dong Zi pulled back to avoid drawing attention. Fu Changxun and Zhao-jie took over, shadowing her in turns until she slipped into a deep alley.
This kind of alley was usually home to people who couldn’t afford real estate in the capital—those without title deeds.
They worked odd jobs or ran market stalls, earning just enough to rent rooms here.
“Doesn’t seem like a place someone like her would live,” Fu Changxun murmured, stopping with a frown. “She looks… almost well-off.”
Zhao-jie said, “So this might not be her home?”
Dong Zi memorized the location. “We’ll come back tonight for the dreamwalk. For now, we should regroup at the tea stall.”
The others looked up—the sun was already high. It was almost noon.
Fu Changxun yawned. “Perfect timing. I’m starving.”
“…” Zhao-jie relented. “Alright.”
The three of them returned together. By the time they arrived, most players were already seated around the tea stall’s tables.
Xu Zhengyi noticeably tensed when he saw Zhao-jie with them.
Fu Changxun gave him a subtle shake of the head: It’s fine.
Only then did Xu Zhengyi relax.
“Zhao-jie, we found out the General’s name!” a newbie player said excitedly, practically bouncing to their feet as if waiting for praise. “Just now—we thought it might be useful!”
Zhao-jie glanced at Fu Changxun and Dong Zi, then waved the player off. “No need. Our mission isn’t about the current General. It’s about the previous one.”
The cheerful player: “Huh?”
Xu Zhengyi couldn’t hold back his curiosity anymore. “Fu—cough, Doctor… where did you two go?”
Fu Changxun, in his soft, delicate tone, replied, “Zhao-jie ran into us on the way and took us to check out the General’s Platform. We ran into a very suspicious person there…”
Swift Step cut in, frowning, “Hold on. Weren’t you supposed to be grouped with a veteran? Why did you go off on your own?”
Dong Zi immediately sensed danger.
Sure enough, in the next second, Fu Changxun’s inner drama queen burst forth. His eyes welled with tears. “I-I’m sorry! I just didn’t want to drag everyone down…”
Swift Step, caught off guard, kept going. “What if that causes some kind of accident? What then—”
Before he could finish, Fu Changxun’s expression shifted in an instant. From fragile green tea to fiercely determined little flower.
His wide eyes shone with defiant innocence. “Why would it?! I would never drag you down! I may be weak, but I can protect everyone too!”
Swift Step: “…”
This little flower… was lethal.
He finally understood why all the other newbies looked so haunted whenever they talked about the “Doctor.” He used to be confused—but now he got it. This guy might be pretty on the surface, but everything he said and did could cause real psychological damage.
Fu Changxun still wasn’t done. He tugged at Dong Zi’s sleeve—and Dong Zi immediately played along, stepping forward with an exaggerated “evil and unruly” glare. “You made him cry. Let’s fight.”
Swift Step exploded. “The fuck is wrong with you?!”
“No fighting! No fighting! Waaaaah…” Fu Changxun fake-sobbed, collapsing into a dramatized cry.
Zhao-jie watched as he seamlessly shifted back into his innocent green tea persona. Deep down, she was seriously impressed.
She didn’t show it, of course—after all, she’d already aligned herself with this ridiculous yet terrifying theater-kid genius. No sense in blowing his cover now.
“Alright, enough.”
She cleared her throat and spoke to the group. “We’ve located a key person. We’re heading to her place tonight to investigate. It could be dangerous, so no one’s obligated to come.”
Swift Step blurted, “I’ll go! Absolutely!”
Anything to get away from this emotionally weaponized flower boy.
“…I’ll go too,” said the little white flower, sniffling. “I’m sure I can help. I won’t drag anyone down, sob…”
The new and veteran players who didn’t know his true nature: “……”
Damn. Watching a pretty little beauty cry like that was actually kind of heartbreaking— as long as he didn’t open his mouth.
Dong Zi, the Xu father and daughter, and Zhao-jie, who did know his true nature: “……”
Damn. What an actor.
