The two rogue players still thought their disguises were flawless. Unaware that their identities had already been exposed.
Fu Changxun left the railing, stepped back from the edge, and rose up slightly on tiptoe to whisper quietly into Dong Zi’s ear. “…We’ll do it like this later.”
Dong Zi nodded solemnly. “Got it.”
The two returned to the group, pretending they had just come back from the restroom.
But something was off.
As soon as they appeared, Xiao Xiao ran over and hugged Dong-ge’s leg, pointing at Lu Tiangan and tattling, “Ge, he tried to steal my food!”
Fu Changxun immediately stepped in front of her protectively. “Who? Him?”
Lin Shu also pulled Lu Zhaodi to her side and said bluntly, “That boy—he’s almost out of food, so he came over to rob the two little girls.”
The two older boys followed the direction Xiao Xiao and Lu Zhaodi pointed—and sure enough, Lu Tiangan was staring at them, eyes full of greed.
Crunch, crunch.
He was devouring the last few bags of chips like an animal, but the corners of his mouth were already cracked and blistered.
Clearly, the overprotectiveness of his mother had left him without even the most basic survival instincts. He didn’t know how to hide his intentions—much less that humans needed more than snacks to function. Without real food—grains, fruits, vegetables—his body was getting weaker by the hour. The more he stuffed himself with junk, the hungrier he felt.
Lu Tiangan was already showing signs of severe heat and inflammation, yet he kept cramming food into his mouth. At this rate, he wouldn’t need a killer plant to take him out—he’d do it to himself.
Now that the junk food he and his mother had hoarded was nearly gone, he’d naturally set his sights on the two youngest girls in the group.
“I wanna eat my sister’s food! Why do you care?” he yelled, tossing an empty chip bag to the ground. “You’re bullying a kid!”
Xiao Xiao frowned. “But… you’re older than me…”
That remark only enraged him further. His face twisted in fury as he glared at her.
A twelve-year-old with a look that murderous—it sent chills down everyone’s spines. Xiao Xiao quickly hid behind her gege.
Fu Changxun’s expression darkened.
Without a word, he reached over and shut off the livestream, then smiled calmly.
“Little guy,” he said with a soft smile, “you do realize that if you stay here alone, you’ll either starve or get killed by the plants, right?”
“You think I’m stupid?”
Lu Tiangan puffed out his double chin, full of arrogant pride. “Of course I know!”
Fu Changxun continued in that same mild tone, voice serene and level, “Then do you also know that we could very easily leave you here—without a word—sneak away and never tell you?”
His tone was quiet, serious, matter-of-fact.
And Lu Tiangan, involuntarily, began to imagine it.
“Say we’re all gone. You’re left behind. The NPCs will see you’re alone—no adults with you. Some might come to steal your food. Some might just want to bully you.”
“Worse yet, when they run out of food… they might decide to eat your flesh, drink your blood…”
Fu Changxun’s voice dropped lower and lower.
And Lu Tiangan, as if seeing some terrifying vision, suddenly let out a scream and clamped his hands over his face, trembling violently. The fear had finally sobered him up. His eyes, when he looked around again, were filled not with arrogance—but dread.
Only then did Fu Changxun put on an innocent face, stepping back with a hand over his mouth in mock surprise.
“Oh no! I was just guessing—did I scare him?”
Everyone: “…”
This guy… has two faces?!
Fu Changxun hadn’t intended to reveal his abilities just yet—but this involved Xiao Xiao. He couldn’t afford to be soft.
“Hey, don’t look at me,” he said with a faux-innocent shrug. “If anything happens, I’m not responsible.”
Lin Shu, impressed, remarked, “Didn’t expect this Mr. Ah Xun to be so good at handling problem children. As expected of a veteran player—everyone has their own tricks.”
If he really had no survival skills, no power, and only a pretty face and a pampered attitude, not even the best team could carry him.
“You’re making me blush now,” Fu Changxun said modestly, though his expression remained all smiles. “Miss Lin, you’re just the same.”
After all, managing to enter the game while wheelchair-bound, and bringing along her frail older brother—clearly, they had their own hidden cards to play.
After a round of polite mutual flattery, both sides were quite satisfied.
The only one left sulking was the brat—but that wasn’t anyone’s problem.
Once the matter had settled, Dong Zi quietly asked, “Ah Xun, that just now—was that your ability?”
Fu Changxun replied, “Sort of.”
“I used a bit of hypnotic suggestion, combined with my ability. That’s how I got that effect.” He shook his head. “But it only works on certain kids and mentally unstable people. Limited effect, and probably won’t last past the end of the instance.”
Dong Zi nodded. “Still, it’s a decent defensive skill… better than having me worry all the time.”
Even in a scene like this, he still managed to sneak in a line of sweet talk. Fu Changxun had to admit—this guy was smooth.
How had he not noticed before? He’d assumed Dong Zi was just a big, clueless straight guy from outer space.
Turns out it was just a stereotype.
“The last instance was so dangerous…” Dong Zi said after a brief silence. “I was really scared. I kept worrying your stamina wasn’t high enough, that you wouldn’t be able to keep running if the game turned into a chase. And your ability isn’t offensive either. I even thought… maybe I should keep you behind me, forever. If you’re never out front, you’ll never be in danger. I could always, always protect you.”
Fu Changxun’s eyes widened. “Huh?”
“But…” Dong Zi’s tone shifted. “What I feared most… was what would happen if I died in an instance.”
Fu Changxun followed the train of thought, murmuring, “If that happened, I’d be a useless flower vase. No decoding skills. No survival experience. I’d probably die in the next instance. If I got lucky, maybe I’d scrape by—but it’d be far harder than how we’re doing it now.”
Dong Zi sighed. “Exactly. That’s why I don’t plan on standing in front of you forever, Ah Xun. I don’t want to be an obstacle to your growth—I want to be your support. I want us to beat this game… together.”
So that was why Dong Zi had stayed by his side from the very beginning—but never used it to control him.
He didn’t want to be a hero on his own. And he didn’t want to drag the person he loved down into despair. He wanted them to stand together, side by side.
Fu Changxun gave a bitter laugh. “You’re making it really hard for me to say no, you know…”
This—this was his ideal type. Absolutely flawless.
“All right, I’m not pushing for an answer.” Dong Zi stepped back just the right distance. “Let’s focus on the game. Those rogue players are up to something.”
And just like that, all the conflicted emotions Fu Changxun had been working up to express… were stuffed right back into his chest.
Slightly suffocating, honestly.
But he immediately followed up, “I think those two are planning to leave.”
“When do you think it’ll happen?”
“Tonight.”
Fu Changxun answered without hesitation. “They’re bound to make a move tonight. We just have to wait and see.”
***
That night, everyone had already gotten ready for bed.
With the power out for a while now, the mall was plunged into pitch-black darkness. Only the shadows outside flickered faintly in the dim light.
Suddenly, a shout rang out from somewhere—“Something’s wrong! The plants are invading!”
Chaos erupted once again among the NPCs!
Screams from women and children echoed in all directions, blending with Qiu Yi’s desperate calls: “Calm down! Everyone, calm down!” But the panic was too far gone—no one was listening.
Lulu quickly gathered the players together, pulling the two little girls close to her side. “Don’t run off. Don’t worry. Nothing’s going to happen.”
Xiao Xiao looked up and asked, “Lulu-jie, where’s my gege and Dong-ge? Where did they go?”
“Relax. If something were to happen, it wouldn’t happen to them. Those two brothers of yours are way stronger than me.” Lulu made light of it with a self-deprecating joke. “If I say everything’s fine, it’s definitely fine.
Xiao Xiao immediately felt reassured and even turned to comfort Lu Zhaodi. “See? Lulu-jie said there’s nothing to worry about. All we have to do is wait. Oh right—what was that item you said you got again…?”
The two girls began chattering away, their lively voices easing some of the tension in the air.
Just then, a beam of flashlight suddenly pierced through the darkness, locking onto two sneaky figures.
“Don’t move. Were you the ones stirring up trouble and inciting panic?” Fu Changxun called out, flashlight in hand.
The two figures froze, realizing the jig was up. One of them quickly flung something that shattered the flashlight, plunging them into darkness again. The other grabbed his companion, spun around, and bolted, trying to melt into the shadows.
But they’d clearly forgotten one crucial detail—Fu Changxun might be up above, but he wasn’t alone.
Just as they turned to flee, they ran straight into Dong Zi, who caught them red-handed.
Forget the saying “two fists can’t fight four hands”—with Dong Zi, it was more like “four fists are no match for his two.”
“Here, two wild-card players stirring up trouble among the NPCs. Got ‘em for you,” he said casually, dragging the pair back like trophies. “Let’s interrogate them—see if we can draw out a few more. Even one more’s a win.”
Wen Shu, still weak, managed to nod. “Alright.”
The other players circled around the captured pair, unleashing a barrage of rapid-fire questions like machine guns.
The two still tried to play dumb, shouting loudly, “Who the hell are you people? What do you think you’re doing? What players? We want out of here—let us go, now!”
“You followed the NPCs out there to scope out the plants, but didn’t expect them to be so vicious, so you used the chaos to sneak back into the mall. Your actions seem perfectly reasonable—totally normal,” Dong Zi said, picking up a roll of gauze from the floor. “But this gauze… it’s not something the mall sells.”
That had been Fu Changxun’s sharp-eyed observation.
He opened his personal game panel and tapped a few times. “Page eight of the Game Shop—Healing Gauze, ten centimeters for one point. Dirt cheap. This much would be exactly ten points.”
The two players went pale, their expressions flickering between green and white. They tried to argue. “You’re mistaken!”
“Alright then,” Dong Zi said. “Let’s say, for argument’s sake, you stocked up on this gauze before coming into the mall. But how come your injuries healed so quickly?”
One person might be an exception—maybe they had unusual recovery—but both of them had been whipped by those plant tendrils earlier that morning. And now? They were back to full strength, clearly trying to make a run for it.
There was no way that added up.
Not unless they’d used healing abilities or items—tapped into the game’s powers.
Qiu Yi stepped forward to inspect them, and sure enough, only faint red marks remained on their wounds.
