"Not at all!"
The death of the "Poison Man" left Fatty unsettled, and he dared not let Chao Musheng notice even the slightest hint of his unease. "I just thought you looked a bit tired—haven’t been resting well?"
Chao Musheng rubbed his face. Staying up all night was like poverty—impossible to hide.
"Not just 'not resting well'—I didn’t sleep at all." Chao Musheng was so exhausted he could barely keep his eyes open. "You guys have fun. I’m heading home to sleep."
"Right, staying up late is bad for your health." Fatty nodded eagerly. "Go get some rest."
Chao Musheng took a few steps before stopping, feeling that as a local, he ought to show a bit more hospitality to the tourists. "Found any inspiration yet?"
Inspiration? What inspiration?
Fatty felt a chill crawl up his spine. It took him a few seconds to remember that, in Chao Musheng’s eyes, they were art students. "The village has so many delicious foods and fun activities—we’ve been too busy playing to even pick up a paintbrush."
Flattery never hurt, after all.
"That’s true. Who wants to work while on vacation?" Chao Musheng agreed wholeheartedly. He waved a hand. "It’s our honor in Chaojiawan to make sure visitors enjoy themselves."
Fatty smiled and nodded. Only when Chao Musheng was far enough away did the tension in his body finally ease.
"Damn it, how does that pretty boy still look so good after pulling an all-nighter?" one of his companions muttered under his breath. "Is he the dungeon’s favorite son or something?"
Fatty ignored the idiot. After exchanging greetings with a villager NPC whose favorability toward him was at 45, he turned to find Xiaoyou, who had changed her lodging.
"Woof! Woof! Woof!"
As soon as they approached the courtyard, a yellow mutt barked furiously at them. Above its head hovered a glaring red favorability value: 0.
A favorability of 0 meant the NPC—or in this case, the dog—had no goodwill toward them. If it dropped below 0, they’d face active aggression.
Even the village dogs had favorability stats. Just what kind of bizarre existence was Chao Musheng?
"Don’t go in." Fatty warily eyed the yellow dog and stopped his companion from moving closer. The number above the dog’s head flickered ominously—one more step, and it might drop into the negatives.
This damn dungeon—even the dogs were worse than the people!
"So what do we do now?"
"Let’s head back first."
Fatty had a bad feeling. The dog was barking so fiercely, yet Xiaoyou hadn’t come out. He suspected she was trying to slip free of their control.
"Fatty, our HP is down to 20. If we don’t find a way out of this dungeon by dawn tomorrow, we’re done for." His companion’s voice was laced with venom. "If that woman dares betray us, I’ll take her out tonight."
If they were going to die, Xiaoyou wouldn’t live either.
By the time Chao Musheng woke up, the "Harmonious Chaojiawan" group chat had already showered him with enough praise to make his ears burn.
His roommate group was still spamming travel photos, but Chao Musheng couldn’t be bothered to respond. Instead, he started replying to other messages.
Holidays meant an influx of texts, and Chao Musheng made sure to answer each one thoughtfully.
Just as he finished eating the meal he’d reheated from the kitchen, another notification popped up.
[Su: Good afternoon. Wishing you a pleasant holiday.]
Chao Musheng typed back one-handed.
[Chao Chao Mu Mu: Thanks, same to you.]
[Su: Thank you.]
Chao Musheng sent a sticker in return, ending the conversation.
Since starting university, he’d joined countless events and competitions, even picking up part-time gigs with his roommates. His contact list had ballooned to the point where he sometimes couldn’t even remember who some people were.
Out of politeness, he couldn’t just bluntly ask, "Who are you?" so he maintained a cordial, distant rapport—liking their posts, nothing more.
Among his many contacts, this person named "Su" stood out.
They never chatted, but without fail, every major holiday, Su would send a brief greeting. Two years, never missed.
Su occasionally liked his posts but never commented.
Polite, never overbearing.
After lunch, Chao Musheng lounged on the couch and played a few rounds of games, winning effortlessly.
Scrolling through various apps, he found nothing particularly interesting.
Seeing the village chat buzzing about packaging shipments, Chao Musheng grabbed the Village Party Secretary’s jacket and headed to the committee office to help.
The village was in a frenzy—picking loquats and packing orders. When he arrived, the floor was so cluttered with boxes he could barely step inside. Handing the jacket over a pile of supplies, he noticed the dark circles under the Village Party Secretary’s eyes. "Uncle, you haven’t slept at all today?"
"Too much fruit to ship out today—no time to sleep." Despite that, the Village Party Secretary seemed more energetic than Chao Musheng, who’d at least gotten a few hours of rest. "You won’t be much help here. The postman dropped off new newspapers and magazines this morning—go sort those instead."
"Got it." Unfamiliar with the village’s shipping standards, Chao Musheng obediently retreated to the activity room to stay out of the way.
The large table was piled high with magazines and newspapers. The postman only came once a week, so some issues were already days old.
In the age of the internet, print media had long been forgotten. The inky smell of newspapers clung to them like the last breath of a dying era, yet some elderly villagers still held onto the habit of reading them.
After shelving the agricultural magazines, Chao Musheng began organizing the haphazard stack of newspapers.
"Two Village Women Outsmart Three Spies—All Because They Didn’t Know the National Anthem"
"Sixty-Year-Old Man Catches Five Thieves Red-Handed Stealing Ancestral Tablets in the Dead of Night"
The absurdity of these headlines made Chao Musheng pause.
According to the article, the three spies had been friendly, even helping villagers harvest rapeseed. Everyone thought they were good people.
So how were they exposed?
Simple—while two villagers hummed the national anthem, one spy complimented their singing and asked what the song was called.
Seriously? Spies making such rookie mistakes? What were they even doing in a village instead of infiltrating high-tech industries?
As for the thieves who stole ancestral tablets—even more ridiculous. Unaware of the surveillance cameras at the ancestral hall, they were caught immediately. Given the local reverence for ancestral customs, the five thieves were beaten within an inch of their lives.
Chao Musheng closed the newspaper and filed it away.
If he kept reading, he feared his sanity would make him the odd one out in this world.
"So what now? Just wait to die?"
With no NPCs around, the couple players dropped their affectionate act, sitting apart with grim expressions.
The male partner cut straight to the point. "We’ve got one day left. If you’re holding back any clues, now’s the time to share—unless you want us all to perish."
"From the moment we entered this dungeon, we’ve been completely lost. What clues could we possibly have?" Fatty shot back. "You two have been cozy with the villagers—surely you’ve picked up something?"
"I do know one thing." The female partner could tell Fatty didn’t trust them. "Today, all the villagers are busy picking loquats—apparently rushing to ship them out."
"What do you mean by that?" Fatty looked at her.
"The villagers are exhausted from today’s work—they’ll sleep deeply tonight." His female companion pulled out a map marked with the locations of every building in the village, each labeled with the names of its occupants.
"This is our only chance. Bring out any valuable items you have." She pointed at a few houses. "These families hold the highest status in the village. Each of us will take two."
Fatty glanced at the highlighted targets—Chao Musheng’s household was among them. "You suspect Chao Musheng?"
"His Grandma and Grandpa hold considerable influence here." She didn’t mention the downgrade of her scrying mirror. "I saw you talking to him this morning. Why don’t you handle his place?"
Fatty studied her expression carefully. Seeing no ulterior motive, he nodded. "Xiao Jia, Chao Musheng’s family is yours."
"Got it." His companion agreed immediately.
The assigned household only had a pretty boy and two elderly people—clearly no threat. Fatty really was looking out for him.
"What about your other teammate?" The woman smirked. "Not inviting her?"
Fatty kept his usual good-natured smile. "She’s timid. Better not involve her in this."
The woman scoffed, knowing Fatty’s group had already written Xiaoyou off.
Friendship? Partnership? In this endless game of survival, such things didn’t exist.
Those who’d lived long enough to slaughter countless monsters and bosses had long shed their humanity.
Having slept during the day, Chao Musheng found himself wide awake at night.
After accompanying his Grandma and Grandpa through two episodes of a melodrama and waiting for them to retire to their rooms, he still felt no drowsiness.
The wind scattered the clouds, revealing a crescent moon hanging in the sky.
Chao Musheng opened his parents’ social media feed—the couple was busy flaunting their candlelit dinner on a cruise ship.
He silently liked the post without commenting. No need to seem like an afterthought.
Launching a game, he dominated every match, racking up MVP titles effortlessly.
"Truly, I am an outstanding university student." He screenshotted his stats and shared them online. Within seconds, a like appeared.
From "Su"—who even left a rare comment:
Su: Impressive.
Still awake at this hour?
ChaoMusheng replied to Su: Thanks for the praise 【grinning】.
Soon, the post flooded with more likes and comments, but Chao Musheng ignored whether Su replied further. His roommate, Second Brother, begged him to join a ranked match.
"Bro Musheng, from now on, you’re my blood brother in all but name!" Riding Chao Musheng’s coattails to victory, Second Brother showered him with exaggerated praise in a high-pitched voice, earning curses from opponents who called him a "disgusting fake."
Second Brother couldn’t care less. For promotion, he’d stoop to anything.
"Stop the voice." Chao Musheng muted him, sparing his ears. "It’s almost 1 AM. I’m logging off."
Ignoring Second Brother’s protests, he quit the game and drew back the curtains, scanning the outside.
The village was eerily quiet. Distant nightingales sang, their melodies blending with the occasional yowl of a cat.
Under the moonlight, the shadow of a cypress tree trembled.
Chao Musheng turned to glance at the curtains.
They hung still—no wind.
Something was wrong.
He pulled out his phone, opened the camera, switched to night mode, and zoomed in.
Time to find out what was out there.
Chao Musheng: Technology—enhancing your life.
