Chapter 25: Them

Showering by yourself while someone else kept watch was too novel of an experience.

Lin Kuo scrubbed his face under the spray.

Since he was using a hose instead of a fixed showerhead, the sound of the water wasn’t consistent—sometimes rushing, sometimes trickling. His left ear caught the uneven patter of water, while his right could occasionally pick up soft breathing from the phone speaker.

Sweet as the Wind has good lung capacity, Lin Kuo thought, oddly.

His next thought was that she must be a healthy and strong girl.

That’s good.

In a place like the Walled City, life was brutal. For a frail girl, surviving would be even harder.

A girl like Sweet as the Wind—at least in terms of strength—wouldn’t be at a disadvantage.

As if sensing his thoughts drifting, a low voice suddenly came through the speaker.

If Lin Kuo hadn’t been listening with one ear tuned in, he might’ve missed it.

“Little Streamer.”

Sweet as the Wind’s voice carried a rare note of seriousness.

Lin Kuo immediately refocused.

He knew she was on watch, so the moment she called out, he instinctively turned his gaze toward the bathroom door.

The door was aluminum alloy, with a single panel of one-way glass set into the middle for water resistance.

Through the misted glass, Lin Kuo saw a human-shaped shadow standing just outside.

It didn’t take a genius to guess who was on the other side of the door—or why she was there.

He’d been prepared for Lin Zhi to test the Death Code the moment midnight struck. His reaction was calm, almost mechanical.

To avoid tipping her off by suddenly shutting off the water, he simply shifted a bit further from the stream.

Then, without panicking, he grabbed the towel and clean clothes from the rack, wiped off quickly, and got dressed.

His speed was astonishing—done in a flash.

Only then did he reach out to turn off the water.

The moment the stream stopped, the dark figure outside the door disappeared.

On the phone, Sweet as the Wind let out a soft breath of relief.

Lin Kuo’s hair was still dripping. He slung the towel around his neck, picked up his phone, and glanced at the blurred figure on the screen.

“Scared you, huh?” he said casually.

He’d heard the sigh.

After all, Sweet as the Wind was a girl.

Even if she was different from most, she was still a girl. And girls, generally, were more easily spooked.

Feeling a little guilty, Lin Kuo added sincerely, “Sorry.”

Hearing this, Sheng Wen’s tension eased slightly on the other end of the line.

Not wanting to let the mood get too heavy, he cracked a joke.

“Brother, does my voice sound really masculine to you?”

Lin Kuo pressed his lips together.

He wasn’t great at lying, but he also didn’t want to hurt Sweet as the Wind’s feelings.

After thinking for a moment, he replied, “It’s very… unique.”

Sheng Wen chuckled softly.

A low laugh slipped through the speaker, and this time he didn’t bother suppressing his real voice.

“There shouldn’t be any danger for now. Brother, you should get some rest. I blocked the stream for thirty minutes; there’s about five left. Get ready.”

“Thanks.”

Lin Kuo frowned slightly.

That voice… it sounded oddly familiar, like he’d heard it somewhere before.

But since it had nothing to do with the instance, there was no point wasting brainpower on it.

Just before hanging up, the person on the other end spoke again.

“Bye-bye, brother~”

Lin Kuo hesitated, then blurted out, “Wait… what’s the point cost for the video call?”

“Fifty points for the first ten minutes, five points for every minute after that.”

Lin Kuo glanced at the call duration.

Twenty-eight minutes.

That was fifty points plus ninety. One hundred and forty points total.

He quickly did the math in his head.

Today’s 140, plus the 7800 points he already owed her, came to 7940 points.

Feeling awkward, he called out, “Ah Feng.”

That was how people who owed him money usually addressed him when asking for extensions—casual, familiar, testing the waters.

So he figured he’d try it too.

Sheng Wen was momentarily stunned.

“What?”

Lin Kuo cleared his throat. “I’ll pay you back… but it might take a while.”

For a second, there was silence.

Then Sheng Wen laughed again.

“Alright. I’ll wait for you, brother.”

Lin Kuo let out a quiet sigh of relief.

“Thanks.”

“But—”

Lin Kuo froze, his eyes on the pitch-black screen.

He waited for the other person to finish.

Sheng Wen said calmly, “Don’t call me Ah Feng. It doesn’t suit me. Call me Ah Tian.”

“…”

Sheng Wen offered a softer option.

“Or Ah Wen is fine too.”

He explained lightly, “How would you know if the wind is sweet without smelling it first? Besides, my name has the character Wen in it anyway.”¹

Lin Kuo let out a quiet “En.”

“Okay.”

Silence.

“What’s wrong?” Lin Kuo asked.

“I’m waiting for you to say my name for the first time.”

Lin Kuo rubbed his nose, his tone a bit stiff.

“…Ah Wen.”

“Bye-bye, brother.”

Lin Kuo raised his hand in a half-hearted farewell.

“See you… Ah Wen.”

“Mm.”

The video call ended.

The livestream resumed.

The barrage of bullet comments immediately exploded.

[Bro, you blocked us for way too long this time.]
[What were you doing in there, huh?!]
[Dog streamer, you’re back. My heart was about to give out!]

Lin Kuo didn’t respond.

He stuffed his phone into his pocket and glanced at the aluminum door handle.

The shadow at the door was gone, but he stayed alert.

For all he knew, Lin Zhi could be crouched just out of sight, cleaver in hand, ready to chop him the moment he stepped out.

If she kills me with a cleaver… does that mean the blade will get stuck in my neck?

A normal person would’ve gone mad just imagining a scene like that.

But instead of losing his mind, Lin Kuo found a blind spot in the scenario.

Would that scare Sweet as the Wind again?

Ah—no, it’s Ah Wen now.

With that in mind, Lin Kuo deliberately slowed his steps.

He pulled the door open cautiously.

His field of view widened.

Straight across the entrance, he could see Lin Zhi’s room.

The door to her room wasn’t closed.

She was standing right there, staring at him.

“A new day has begun.”

Lin Zhi grinned.

Lin Kuo said nothing.

He ruffled his damp hair with the towel, then turned right and headed straight to his room.

Lin Zhi didn’t follow.

But her gaze stuck to him, trailing him like a shadow.

Her eyeballs even swiveled wildly in their sockets as he moved.

Back in his room, Lin Kuo closed and locked the door in one smooth motion.

He couldn’t be sure of Lin Zhi’s strength right now.

She was an evil god now—an old, solid wood door probably wouldn’t hold her back for long.

But it was better than nothing. At least it would buy him time.

He tossed the wet towel onto the desk and lay down on the bed.

Staring at the ceiling, eyes open.

This was the apartment his parents had left him.
He’d slept in this room for over twenty years.

Back before he got dragged into the Walled City, he used to lie here like this every night—staring at this exact ceiling.

He knew the marks on it by heart.

Lin Zhi had left them there herself. When she was little, she’d insisted on kicking a ball in his room.

One time, the ball hit the ceiling light and shattered it.

After that, Lin Kuo simply removed the broken lampshade, leaving just the bare bulb.

Around the bulb, there were screw marks.

His eyes narrowed.

The ceiling in this room had those same screw marks now.

Would the Main God System really bother recreating details like this?

Back when he first entered this instance, he’d tried to tell Lin Zhi about the Walled City, but the words had stuck in his throat.

That restriction, combined with this ceiling… it was starting to add up.

Maybe this really was the real world.

If that was true, then what was Lin Zhi?

Had some evil god possessed her?

Or was something else going on?

Lin Kuo’s thoughts drifted to The Intruder instance.

In the study, he’d found the Book of Impressions.

“Senses do not deceive. It is judgment that deceives.”

At the time, the clue had seemed irrelevant to the instance’s theme—but it had been the key to breaking the game.

The Walled City’s instances always left a way out. They might dig traps, but they wouldn’t set true dead ends.

They even handed you the clues you needed.

Lin Kuo had a gut feeling.

The screw marks on the ceiling were the clue to breaking Death Code.

Why choose the real world over a fabricated one?

And what role was Lin Zhi playing in this?

If he could figure that out, he’d find the solution.

But right now, there weren’t enough clues.

His thoughts were still clouded by fog.

He let out a slow breath and lay back down.

It was past midnight.

Lin Zhi had earned the right to test another Death Code.

And Lin Kuo still didn’t know what happened if she got it wrong.

For now, all he could do was survive the first night.

He lay back down and decided he wouldn’t sleep tonight at all.

A solo instance actually suited him.

There was no need to waste time explaining clues to teammates, no one to drag him down, and no one to betray him for personal gain.

He knew he was too soft-hearted.

Even with a slight trick like Li Yinan’s, he’d fallen for it.

He needed to improve.
But how?

Lin Kuo thought quietly.

When he couldn’t figure it out, he gave a self-deprecating laugh.

Now wasn’t the time to worry about that.

He should be thinking about how to transfer the Death Code out.

When?
How?

The outside world wasn’t any safer.

Where could he hide the Death Code?

Maybe the bed was too familiar.
Even though his mind was racing, Lin Kuo unknowingly drifted off.

Suddenly—

Thud.

Thud-thud-thud-thud-thud.

Thud-thud-thud-thud.

Thud-thud-thud-thud-thud-thud-thud.

Lin Kuo woke up with a start.

The first thing he did was grab his phone to check how long he’d slept.

The live stream screen was flooded with—

“Holy shit!”
“Scared me to death!”
“What’s that sound?!”

The progress bar was already long.
The sky outside was misty, tinged with the first light of dawn.

It was almost morning.

Probably past 5 a.m.

The sound that had woken him hadn’t just disturbed him.
Upstairs and downstairs, the lights had turned on.
Neighbors were cursing, dragging their family registers into the mix and cursing back eighteen generations.

He rolled out of bed and opened the door.

The lights in the house were off.

It wasn’t so dark that he couldn’t see the floor beneath his feet, but the air seemed stained with a layer of gray, making everything feel strangely oppressive and unsettling.

Thud-thud-thud-thud, thud-thud-thud-thud-thud-thud-thud.

The irregular sound echoed in his ears, each thud like a muffled clap of thunder.

Lin Kuo stood still.

Judging by the direction of the sound, he was sure it was coming from somewhere inside this 90-square-meter home.

In horror movies, there was always some strange sound that lured the protagonist out of safety. But curiosity was usually a death sentence.

What was happening now had the same effect as those scenes that made your scalp tingle and your heart race.

Curiosity killed the cat.

The smart thing to do would’ve been to turn around, lock the door, crawl back under the covers, and go back to sleep.

But Lin Kuo needed to find the source of the sound.

He needed clues.

Bracing himself, he followed the noise to its source.

It came from the kitchen.

Of all the rooms in this two-bedroom apartment, only the kitchen was lit.

As he passed the dining room, Lin Kuo casually picked up a broom to use as a makeshift weapon. Quietly, he approached the kitchen and stopped at what he considered a safe distance.

When he lifted his eyes and glanced inside, his stomach lurched.

All at once, the over two million pores on his body opened wide. Goosebumps broke out across his skin, his blood turned to ice, and his face went numb from the sheer shock of what he saw.

Lin Zhi was holding a cleaver.

She was chopping meat.

At her feet lay a pile of stray cat corpses.

One of the cats had white fur.

Lin Kuo remembered it.

That cat had been a regular stray in their neighborhood for a long time. He’d even fed it a few times with leftovers from home.

As for what kind of meat was on the cutting board now—Lin Kuo didn’t want to know.

But questions flooded his mind.

Wasn’t Lin Zhi supposed to have restricted movement?

How had she brought them back?

He was sure his previous deductions weren’t wrong. But before he could think further, he looked back at Lin Zhi.

And that one glance completely froze him.

She had turned to face him, her eyes locking onto his. But the Lin Zhi before him now was even more terrifying than she had been yesterday.

Her tongue—long and thin—extended at least ten or twenty meters, coiled behind the pile of corpses like some grotesque snake.

It was smeared with fur and blood.

Lin Kuo’s mind teetered on the edge of collapse.

How those stray cats had died, he didn’t want to know either.

“Ge.”²

Because her tongue couldn’t retract immediately, Lin Zhi’s voice came out muffled.

“Good morning. I was going to make you some dumplings, but we ran out of minced meat at home.”

As she spoke, she casually picked up another stray cat corpse.

Thud-thud-thud.

She began chopping it with the cleaver.

Lin Kuo wanted to say, “Eat it yourself.”

But he swallowed the words.

Instead, his tone was cold.

“My Death Code isn’t disgusted to death.”

Lin Zhi’s smile froze.

Her expression darkened, clearly displeased that Lin Kuo had figured out she was trying to test his Death Code.

But then, as if she’d thought of something, her lips curled into a grin.

“Is that so? But the one I’m trying to rule out today is poisoned to death.”

Lin Kuo took a step back.

“You only get to test one a day.”

This time, Lin Zhi was furious.

She loathed it when a participant had the upper hand.

Her hand, still gripping the cleaver, trembled with rage. Her eyes locked onto Lin Kuo, venomous and intense, as if she might lunge at him and chop him into meat paste at any second.

Lin Kuo’s stomach turned.

He couldn’t continue this staring contest. He rushed to the bathroom and bent over the sink to vomit.

But he’d barely eaten the night before, and after a night of digestion, there was nothing left to throw up.

He didn’t force it.

Instead, he rinsed his mouth, washed his face, and looked up at the mirror.

Lin Zhi had followed him, dragging her long tongue behind her.

Her gaze was so poisonous, so intense, it felt like if malice had a physical form, Lin Kuo would’ve already died a thousand times over.

But he just stood there, emotionless, using the mirror to meet her eyes.

When he saw the expression on her face—the one that screamed I’m going to kill you—Lin Kuo, despite his blank face, secretly let out a breath of relief.

So it was true.

Even though Lin Zhi could skip the usual search process and directly test for the Death Code, he could still neutralize her test.

Just now, she’d tried to make him eat the minced meat to check if his Death Code was poisoned to death.

But her chopping action had also accidentally tested other possibilities: disgusted to death, scared to death, annoyed to death, and so on.

Lin Kuo had been the first to name a method of death—disgusted to death. That move had saved him from being poisoned today.

And once Lin Zhi used up her daily testing chance, she couldn’t harm him.

That was why she was so furious now—furious, yet helpless.

Of course, Lin Kuo wasn’t completely sure about all this.

It was just his best guess. But Lin Zhi’s reaction seemed to confirm it.

The room reeked—saliva and blood, mixed together into some nauseating stench that made the air itself foul.

Lin Kuo decided to hide outside.

He turned away and walked toward his room.

Before Lin Zhi could follow, he slammed the door shut behind him.

Lin Zhi, already enraged, exploded even further at his action. She slammed her fist into the solid wood door again and again, hard enough to make the panel bulge inward in the shape of her knuckles.

“Lin Kuo!” she shrieked.

“Why’d you close the door? Why won’t you let me in? Is the Death Code hidden in your room? Huh?!”

After confirming she couldn’t harm him for now, Lin Kuo stopped paying her any mind.

He picked up his usual backpack, stuffed some clothes into it, and opened the wardrobe drawer to grab a few pairs of clean socks.

Then came a bang.

The door panel finally gave way under Lin Zhi’s violent pounding.

Her fist punched straight through, leaving a fist-sized hole.

Lin Kuo frowned and temporarily stopped what he was doing.

This was his home.

His things—being wrecked by some evil god.

That made him very unhappy.

Lin Zhi stopped smashing the door.

She just peered through the hole, staring at Lin Kuo.

When he sat on the bed to put on his shoes, her gaze followed him.

When he reached for his phone charger on the bedside table, her eyeballs rolled so far toward the corner of her eye it looked like they might pop out of their sockets.

No matter where Lin Kuo went, her eyes were locked onto him.

When he finished packing, he stopped and met her gaze head-on.

Lin Zhi glared back, venomously.

“Ge, you want to leave with the Death Code? Where are you planning to hide it?

I’ve told you before—no matter where you hide the Death Code, it’ll be found.”

Lin Kuo thought for a moment.

“Then have you found it now?”

Lin Zhi hesitated, her gaze growing colder.

She stared at the backpack in his hands.

“Rather than letting them find it, why don’t you let me find it? I’m your real sister, after all.”

Lin Kuo’s left eyelid twitched.

A bad feeling washed over him.

“Them?”

What did that mean?

Were there more out there like Lin Zhi?

Lin Zhi giggled, her smugness overtaking her earlier anger.

“There’s a reward for eliminating a Death Code, you know.”

Lin Kuo didn’t respond.

He wasn’t good at cursing. His vocabulary for insults was pitifully small.

But right now, he dedicated all the curses he knew to the Main God System.

Lin Zhi’s meaning wasn’t hard to guess.

Just a little thought was enough to figure it out.

Each time Lin Zhi eliminated a Death Code, she’d get a reward.

And the reward was: the creation of another monster like her—something neither human nor ghost.

In that case, he couldn’t stay here any longer.

He had to leave with the Death Code.

“Ge!”

Lin Zhi started pounding on the door again.

“Give me the Death Code! Tell me where you hid it! I’ll find it myself! I’m your real sister, aren’t I? Give it to me!”

Lin Kuo scoffed, his tone cold.

“No.”

“Lin Kuo! Lin Kuo! Lin Kuo!”

Her shrieking pierced through the wood like needles. The door—already on the verge of collapse—finally gave out.

Lin Zhi rushed in.

Before Lin Kuo could dodge, she snatched the backpack from his hands.

But she was stupid.

She didn’t think to just turn the bag upside down and dump everything out.

Instead, she rummaged through it in a frenzy with both hands. When that wasn’t fast enough, she lost her patience and tore the backpack in half.

“Death Code! Death Code! Death Code—”

While Lin Zhi was distracted, Lin Kuo slipped out of the room unnoticed.

Without hesitation, he bolted for the bathroom, grabbed the shower head from the sink, and sprinted toward the front door.

In the bedroom, Lin Zhi finally realized—the Death Code wasn’t in the bag.

She spun around, only to see Lin Kuo holding the shower head, heading for the door.

Her eyes lit up.

“It’s the Death Code! It’s in the shower head, isn’t it?!”

She dropped to all fours, scrambling after him like some rabid animal.

Lin Kuo’s body was sluggish compared to hers. Years of sitting in an art studio had dulled his reflexes. He couldn’t outrun her.

The distance from the bathroom to the entryway was barely two or three meters.

Even if he had to cross the living room, the total was no more than six.

Six meters—two seconds.

That was all the time he had before she caught him.

He could hear the sounds of her pursuit behind him.

His focus narrowed to a pinpoint.

As soon as he reached the door, he flung it open.

Clang.

The lock clicked.

Without pausing, he threw the shower head outside.

At the same moment, Lin Zhi tackled him to the floor.

Throwing the shower head out of Lin Zhi’s range had been his last resort.

But the corpses of the cats in the kitchen reminded him—her tongue could pull prey back into the house.

Still, he gritted his teeth, used all his strength to shove Lin Zhi off him, and slammed the door shut.

Then he leaned against it, his chest heaving.

For now, she couldn’t hurt him.

By blocking the door with his own body, he kept the Death Code safe—at least temporarily.

Behind him, Lin Zhi’s voice rang out, frantic and sharp.

“Ge! Open the door! Give me the Death Code!”

Lin Kuo closed his eyes, took a few deep breaths, and forced himself to calm down.

When he opened them again, he met Lin Zhi’s venomous gaze.

Her tone was panicked, bizarre, almost pleading.

“Do you think you’re safe out there? How many times do I have to tell you?! Why won’t you just give it to me? Are you waiting for them to find your Death Code?!”

Lin Kuo narrowed his eyes.

“For my own good, right? If you get my Death Code, you’ll let me go?”

Lin Zhi’s answer came without hesitation.

“I’ll kill you myself. Isn’t that better than dying at their hands?”

Lin Kuo didn’t respond.

He put on a thoughtful expression.

After a moment, he said, “Okay.”

Lin Zhi’s eyes lit up.

“Then hurry up and get it!”

Lin Kuo said calmly, “It’s almost seven o’clock. The man next door leaves for work at this time every day. Go wait in the living room so he doesn’t see you.”

Lin Zhi laughed coldly.

“Ge, are you trying to trick me?”

Lin Kuo also let out a low laugh.

“When have I ever tricked you?”

Lin Zhi froze.

In her memory, her brother had always been someone who spoke little but never lied.

She hesitated, lips trembling.

“Yesterday you said you were going to Hainan… I looked for you for so long…”

Lin Kuo’s heart tightened.

He looked away.

“If you don’t trust me, then just take two steps back. You’ll still be able to see me from there.”

Lin Zhi did as he asked, her eyes full of anticipation.

“Alright. Hurry up and open the door. Go get the Death Code.”

Lin Kuo’s hand rested on the doorknob.

But he didn’t open it immediately.

Instead, he turned to look at Lin Zhi one last time.

“Zhizhi, I’ll come back. You… have to wait for me.”

Lin Zhi didn’t understand what he meant.

She was too excited to think. Her long tongue slipped out of her mouth in her excitement.

“Mhm! Hurry up and go!”

Lin Kuo withdrew his gaze.

Then—

He burst out the door, slamming it shut behind him before Lin Zhi could react.

From inside came a shrill, inhuman scream.

“LIN KUO! YOU LIED TO ME!”

Lin Kuo clenched his jaw and forced himself to ignore the guilt twisting in his chest.

His eyes swept the floor—he remembered where the shower head had landed.

But the spot was empty.

His heart stopped for half a beat.

The shower head was gone.

Lin Kuo quickly looked up.

At the corner of the hallway, he spotted a figure.

He chased after it without thinking.

When he saw it was the cleaning lady, he let out a slight breath of relief.

The shower head was sitting in her dustpan.

The cleaning lady jumped at Lin Kuo’s sudden approach. She patted her chest and gave him a startled smile.

“Young man, late for class?”

She recognized him.

Her work schedule often overlapped with Lin Kuo’s commute to the art academy. Sometimes he even helped her carry trash downstairs.

Lin Kuo apologized but didn’t answer.

He also didn’t ask her to give the shower head back.

Lin Zhi had said, “them.” There were others.

Was the cleaning lady one of them?

The cleaning lady pressed the elevator button, chuckling. “Don’t worry, being late once or twice is no big deal.”

Lin Kuo forced a stiff reply.

The elevator doors opened.

The cleaning lady stepped in.

Lin Kuo hesitated.

He and Lin Zhi had made a huge commotion. The cleaning lady had to have heard it.

And yet she looked at him with such calm—it was unsettling.

If she was one of them, then both the Death Code and Lin Kuo himself were right here. He’d be trapped in the elevator, no way to escape.

But if he missed this elevator because of paranoia, Lin Zhi might be by the window, ready to use her tongue to snatch the shower head from the dustpan.

The elevator doors started to close.

Then—ding—they opened again.

The cleaning lady, holding her broom and dustpan, reached out and handed the shower head to Lin Kuo.

“Looking for this? Here you go.”

Lin Kuo hesitated but took it, his guard still up.

The cleaning lady smiled kindly. “Talk things out properly, young man. Arguing doesn’t solve anything.”

She’d heard the commotion. She guessed he’d thrown the shower head out in a moment of anger.

She was planning to return it after taking out the trash, but since Lin Kuo came running out, she took the initiative.

“This kind of shower head is hard to buy, you know? If you get the model wrong, it won’t fit. Looks like this one’s still good. Go back and reinstall it.”

Lin Kuo muttered his thanks.

The cleaning lady said nothing more.

The elevator closed and started descending.

Lin Kuo pressed the button again, calling for a new car.

While waiting, his brow furrowed deeply.

Because of his personality, his relationships with people were all surface-level.

That meant he had no way of judging whether someone was one of them—or just ordinary.

Take the cleaning lady, for example.

If she hadn’t returned the shower head, he would’ve had no clue.

Lin Kuo stared at the shower head in his hand.

So far, Lin Zhi had ruled out two Death Codes: happy to death and disgusted to death.

If what she said about the reward was true, then that meant two of them had already appeared.

Besides the number, Lin Kuo knew nothing else.

He didn’t know if they would take the form of people he knew, or strangers lurking in the dark.

The outside world, just as he’d expected, was full of hidden dangers.

Lin Zhi wasn’t wrong either.

No matter where the Death Code was hidden—it would eventually be found.

Ding—

The elevator arrived.

Lin Kuo stepped inside and pressed -2.

He planned to leave the neighborhood through the underground garage.

It was the only way to prevent the Death Code he’d worked so hard to move out of the house from being snatched back by Lin Zhi’s tongue.

As the elevator descended, he stood quietly in the corner.

Above his head, the surveillance camera rotated.

Its lens locked onto him.

_________________________________________________________________________________

¹The character for “smell” (闻, wén) is the same character in Sheng Wen’s name.

²Ge (哥) means older brother.

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