[Final notice: This instance has no time limit. Please clear the scenario as soon as possible!]
The group vanished in an instant.
This time, the dizziness was milder than before. Fu Changxun only felt a brief spell of vertigo before recovering quickly. He stood steady and opened his eyes.
Before him stood a desolate building, the main gate tightly shut, its exterior walls crawling with ivy.
Everything around them was blanketed in a hazy fog. Only this five-story building loomed in the mist. It was rundown and crumbling—but still stood tall and imposing.
This must be the “hospital” referred to as the activity zone in the system prompt.
He waited for a few seconds. As expected, the rest of the players soon materialized near the entrance.
“Nine players,” he murmured.
Fu Changxun scanned the group. Besides their own four-person team, the remaining five included a clearly affectionate middle-aged couple, two young male players who had obviously entered together, and one more person…
Lu Qi?
Fu Changxun froze, then instinctively backed up behind Dong Zi.
Dong Zi recognized him too. In the “Sin” instance, Lu Qi had been possessed—played by the [Ghost]. But this time, the game had clearly announced: Nine players. That meant Lu Qi was real.
Before anyone could formally introduce themselves, the two young male players suddenly turned to the air and shouted, “What’s up, chat! I’m officially in the instance!”
…He was livestreaming.
Fu Changxun reflexively opened his game panel—his stealth blocker was still active.
He immediately bought another one and slapped it over Xiao Xiao’s face without warning.
Xiao Xiao: “…Thanks, Ge.”
She knew the blocker was important—but the way it smacked over her face, it kind of felt like Fu-ge had just slapped her forehead. Her brain was still buzzing.
Those two streamers clearly had experience. Even without a visible chat feed, they were brimming with enthusiasm.
“Chat, look! This is the hospital I need to clear—definitely a puzzle-solving instance. So lucky we didn’t land in a battle royale one…”
Still lost in their own hype, the two grinned. “Let’s check out our teammates—whoa, there’s a kid here!”
Before they could approach Xiao Xiao, Dong Zi cut in coldly: “Turn the stream off.”
The pair hadn’t expected such a direct order. One of them, visibly annoyed, snapped, “Why should I? I can stream if I want. You can’t make me stop. You don’t want tips, but I do. Besides, my bro here’s a big streamer with a million followers—you sure you want to mess with us?”
He gestured to the other guy—the one with bleached yellow hair—who snorted in disdain, face full of arrogance.
To be fair, he did look the part of a real-life livestreamer.
“I don’t know whether I can mess with you,” Dong Zi said coolly. “What I do know is—if you keep treating this like a joke, whether or not you make it out of this instance is anyone’s guess.”
The blond-haired guy snapped, “You—”
He didn’t even get the words out before someone interrupted with a shout: “Changxun! You’re here too!”
Lu Qi had been scared out of his mind.
He’d just gotten home, key still in hand as he pushed the door open—and then, without warning, he was sucked into the game. No trigger, no time to react.
Caught off guard, everything he’d read in those online strategy guides had flown straight out of his head, leaving only raw panic behind.
But just as he was spiraling, a miracle—he glanced around the players nearby and spotted Fu Changxun. Instantly, relief flooded his face. “This is great! Changxun, you’re a veteran player—you’ll definitely get us out of here safely, right?”
To him, who saw people die in the livestreams every day, this game was nothing short of a waking nightmare.
Fu Changxun: “…Fuck.”
He’d just deliberately hidden behind Dong Zi to avoid being noticed—and got spotted anyway.
Which meant: no more pretending to be a clueless rookie. He’d now have to step up as a veteran and take care of the newbies.
“Who here is new?” Dong Zi stepped in, clearly sensing Fu Changxun’s rising irritation—and wanting nothing to do with Lu Qi. He diverted the conversation without hesitation.
The married couple exchanged a glance, then the husband said, “We’re new—haven’t played before. But we’ve watched a few streams and guides.”
Lu Qi, having never met Dong Zi, assumed he was just another veteran player and chimed in, “Me too.”
The rest stayed quiet.
Dong Zi nodded. “Three newbies, six experienced players. Those with stealth blockers—activate them. Everyone else, feel free to go live.”
Since Blondie had already started streaming, there was no point in stopping others.
Then he added, “I’m Dong.”
Fu Changxun gestured at himself. “Changxun. That idiot already shouted it out, so I’m not going to bother hiding it.”
Lulu followed up, cheerful as ever. “Just call me Lulu—and this is my sister, Xiao.”
Xiao Xiao immediately pressed close to her. They’d planned this in advance: the three adults would pretend not to know each other, posing as unacquainted rookies, while Xiao Xiao stuck with the least conspicuous of them—Lulu—to avoid suspicion from the others. But Lu Qi had blown that plan wide open by blurting out Fu Changxun’s real name, cutting their strategy in half.
Still, even a veteran could play the role of a pretty and useless character.
So Fu Changxun calmly assigned himself a new persona – an emotionally unstable, drama-prone glass cannon.
The idea had a certain charm. He liked it. That was the role he’d go with. And with Lu Qi as his unwitting tool to help sell the act—perfect.
The couple introduced themselves next: “I’m Zeng, and my wife’s surname is Hu.”
“Whoa, you guys share a name with that famous comedy duo,” Lulu said, perking up.
They both laughed. “Yeah, total coincidence.”
Blondie saw everyone else introducing themselves and, not wanting to seem antisocial, reluctantly followed suit. “I’m Li-ge. I am a million-subscriber streamer, by the way.”
His friend added, “And I’m Zhang-ge—Li-ge’s partner and cameraman.”
Seeing that everyone had introduced themselves, Lu Qi panicked and quickly said, “I’m—”
“Lu Qi,” Fu Changxun cut in coolly. “Since you shouted out my real name, I figured I’d return the favor. Hope you don’t mind?”
Lu Qi had already noticed that everyone else had used fake names or just surnames. Now being called out like that, his face soured.
But he still needed Fu Changxun’s help to survive, so he forced a smile, too wide and stiff to be real.
Ms. Hu blinked. “You two know each other?”
Lu Qi nodded. “I—”
“He’s my ex,” Fu Changxun cut in again. “We broke up a long time ago.”
His whole demeanor screamed “I want nothing to do with this man.” Lu Qi’s expression turned ugly, but he still tried to smile. “Changxun, don’t be mad—”
Fu Changxun spat, “Manipulative trash. This is your limit. Go die.”
Lu Qi’s mask cracked completely. He growled, “Do you really have to humiliate me like this?”
“Blah blah blah. And why the hell shouldn’t I?”
“This is a horror game!”
“Oh? You do know it’s a game. For a second I thought you were treating it like your personal soap opera.”
“Changxun, what happened to you? You used to be so sweet…”
Everyone else: “Ooooh.”
Exes fighting? Now this was entertainment.
Lulu was munching on the drama like popcorn when she noticed the thundercloud darkening Dong Zi’s face. She suddenly recalled how Dong Zi had barely strayed more than two meters from Fu Changxun this entire time.
Wait a minute… Did she just accidentally bite into a second layer of gossip? Was that jealousy?
And since Blondie had been streaming, everyone in the livestream chat was now eating up the ex-boyfriend drama too.
[What’s this instance? Looks creepy as hell.]
[Why is it always people with stealth blockers? Oh wait—Li-ge and Zhang-ge are here!]
[Which one is Li-ge?]
[The blond one—he’s got over a million fans on Doule.]
[Li-ge, let’s go! I’m your fan!]
[He’s being kinda rude though, just aiming his stream at people without asking.]
[Rude? It’s a horror game! You think ghosts care about manners? Survival’s what matters.]
[There’s a lot of veterans here—this instance should be easy. I’m just here for the clear.]
[LMAO what is this breakup drama?! Low-Dimensional Selection’s getting spicy—pairing exes in the same instance?]
[They’re actually fighting! I’m such a gossip gremlin I can’t stop watching. Don’t stop! DO NOT STOP!]
[Lmao manipulative scumbag vs. drama queen—what a match. Locked in for life!]
[Wait… why does that tall guy keep staring at “Changxun”?]
[Is this a love triangle?!]
[This batch of human players is so damn entertaining.]
[The emotional lives of low-dimensional beings are fascinating. I might stay and watch a little longer.]
Viewer count exploded. The chat was chaos.
Back in the instance, the argument had finally petered out.
Fu Changxun seized the moment, storming over to Dong Zi with a sharp glare.
“Hey. Team up?”
Dong Zi played along, pretending not to know him. “Sure. Your ex isn’t going to cause trouble, is he?”
Fu Changxun let out a cold laugh. “He wouldn’t dare. If he does, I’ll feed him to the ghosts.”
Lu Qi’s face twitched, furious but not brave enough to fight back.
Lulu, still basking in the afterglow of the juicy drama she’d just devoured, finally strolled over with a deliberately insincere attempt to deescalate. “Alright, alright—wait, what the hell?!”
[Ding dong. Game start!]
The massive iron door creaked open with a long, rusty groan. Everyone turned toward the sound and saw that the door had swung wide. A man in a white lab coat emerged from the shadows inside.
He swept his hawk-like gaze over them. “So, you’re the new patients and nurses?”
The phrasing was a bit odd, but none of the players reacted—just cautiously nodded in acknowledgment.
The old man grinned, his lips stretching too wide. “Excellent. Now then—who’s a nurse, and who’s a patient? Everyone, nurses to the left, patients to the right. Think—very—carefully. Once you decide, the choice cannot be changed.”
His hoarse, ancient voice echoed off the walls in front of the hospital entrance. None of the players moved, frozen in place.
“Excuse me,” Fu Changxun spoke up amidst the silence, “Does this choice determine our factions?”
The old man said nothing.
Blondie—Li-ge—muttered nervously, “Why even ask? Of course it’s for faction selection.”
“But if this is a faction-based instance,” Dong Zi said darkly, “then what does the title have to do with it?”
The activity area was a hospital, but the instance name was… Family Portrait.
Wind howled across the entrance. A chill crawled up the spines of all nine players.
