Volume 7: Days of Stargazing at the Inn
A Dream
A strange dream
Qu Jing said, “I’m not sure if it was an auditory hallucination… Do you guys think this place is really that sinister?”
Shen Maomao said, “How could it be! You were definitely hearing things. It’s 2019, don’t scare yourself. Feudal superstitions are not the way to go.”
Qu Jing was a bit dazed. “Really?”
Shen Maomao nodded frantically.
What else could she say? Tell her she wasn’t mistaken, that there really are ghosts here, and that they were all going to die?
Qu Jing seemed to be comforted by this, murmuring, “If that’s the case… that would be great.”
Golden Retriever silently gave her a thumbs-up, seemingly impressed by her ability to bullshit.
Sanmu looked at the dazed Qu Jing and suddenly asked, “Does your boyfriend never eat?”
Qu Jing froze, instinctively glancing toward the kitchen before saying, “I always cook when no one is around and then bring it up to him.”
Sanmu raised an eyebrow. “Is that so.”
He said no more, but Qu Jing became restless. After a moment’s thought, she simply stood up and said, “I’ll head back first. Xi Tian needs someone there. You guys take your time and chat.”
Shen Maomao waved at her. “Bye-bye.”
Qu Jing nodded and left in a hurry.
Only after she was gone did Golden Retriever say, “She has a really foul smell on her.”
Sanmu asked him, “What kind of smell?”
Golden Retriever: “The smell of rot.”
Shen Maomao said thoughtfully, “Could it be that she’s already dead? I’ve felt that something was off about her ever since they escaped from the mudslide.”
Lou Jingmo spoke in a low, ghostly tone, “She might not be the one in trouble.” But there was definitely a problem with one of the two of them.
A day passed just like that. Shen Maomao had thought that the other few people who had announced their identities would run into trouble, but nothing happened all the way until nightfall, which she found a bit strange.
The snow was still falling, and it was getting heavier. Now, even opening the door was difficult for them.
The moment the lights outside came on, Shen Maomao went out to check the survival status, but after struggling for a long time, she couldn’t get the door open.
In the end, it was Sanmu who gave her a hand. The two of them pushed the main door open together, went out for a look at the lamps, and then dashed back inside.
Shen Maomao’s expression turned a little grim—because unlike the usual nights where the death toll was high for very few strokes erased, tonight only two strokes on the lamp had been extinguished.
This meant that Van Gogh was very likely not dead.
Shen Maomao had a premonition: Tang Song’s death was inextricably linked to Van Gogh.
Van Gogh was a madman. Judging from various details, he liked to observe human anatomy and could even identify someone from a single skull, showing he was quite knowledgeable in this area.
Combined with the game’s mechanism for capturing people, and Lou Jingmo’s comment that he definitely had a few lives on his hands… Shen Maomao had reason to suspect he was preparing for a massacre.
A madman who had tasted blood would be completely devoid of reason.
Shen Maomao’s heart was racing. She felt like something was about to happen and desperately wanted to find a way to leave. This instance dungeon was inexplicably oppressive.
After finishing dinner, everyone went upstairs to their respective rooms.
The atmosphere in the inn tonight was extremely tense. For safety’s sake, no one suggested washing up. After all, no matter how important cleanliness was, it wasn’t as important as a person’s life.
Before returning, the three of them carefully and meticulously checked each other’s clothes for any “contraband,” only daring to enter their room after confirming there was nothing on them.
As usual, Lou Jingmo drew the curtains the moment they were inside. Shen Maomao was on edge, finding it hard to even play Tetris.
Golden Retriever looked at her with eyes full of admiration. “Sister Rabbit, you’ve got nerves of steel. To think you can still play at a time like this.”
Shen Maomao shot him a glare but didn’t say anything.
She didn’t want to play either, but she wanted the card.
A cheerful “level clear” notification tone sounded. Shen Maomao, who had just been thinking about quitting, had passed another level, bringing her one step closer to the card.
The chime was long and hadn’t quite finished when the lights in the room flickered twice, then—Shua!—they went out.
“F#ck!” Shen Maomao immediately turned off her phone screen. After the sound effect disappeared, she turned her phone back on, carefully shining its light around the room.
Lou Jingmo and Golden Retriever also turned on their phone flashlights, one after the other, which brightened the room considerably.
Shen Maomao said, her heart still pounding with fear, “That scared me to death… I thought when I turned on the light, everyone would be gone…”
Golden Retriever was frightened by the scenario in her head. “Sister Rabbit… please don’t jinx1 us…”
Lou Jingmo pulled back the curtain, boldly peeking out before shrinking back. “The power is out for the whole building.”
The air conditioner had stopped running, and within a few minutes, the temperature had dropped by several degrees. Shen Maomao couldn’t help but shiver, burrowing into her quilt like a fish.
After getting herself settled, she asked, “Why did the power just suddenly cut out?”
Lou Jingmo said, “It should be a plot event. Just wait.”
Hearing this, Shen Maomao immediately sat up. “What plot event? I’m a coward, don’t scare me!”
Lou Jingmo reached out and pushed her back down. “Wait while you sleep. It’s just after nine now, so it should be soon.”
Shen Maomao said plaintively, “I am not truly happy…2“
Lou Jingmo rolled her eyes. “Just go to sleep. Golden Retriever, you go to sleep too.”
“Alrighty.” Golden Retriever followed her example and pulled up his quilt. He could feel the cold wind penetrating the walls and blowing on his face, and he couldn’t help but complain, “On a snowy day like this… with no air conditioning, this is really going to kill someone.”
Shen Maomao: “Alright, you have a blanket, what’s there to complain about? What more could you ask for?3“
Golden Retriever said pitifully, “I want a heat pack4…”
Shen Maomao: “Don’t have any. Get lost.”
Time flew by. In a state of half-sleep, Shen Maomao seemed to hear a knocking sound from a nearby room.
It’s here again!
The ghosts here were so polite. They knocked on people’s doors all night long and would never enter without a response. Other ghosts should really learn from them.
After the knocking stopped, a trembling, aged voice said, “It’s so cold… It’s so cold outside… Can anyone let me in to warm up…”
Shen Maomao’s eyes shot open. On the next bed, Golden Retriever also started shivering.
That voice belonged to the old TCM practitioner who had died right before their eyes, the one he and four other men had personally thrown outside.
The few rooms nearby were unoccupied, so naturally, there was no response. The old TCM practitioner dragged his heavy feet, shuffling step by step toward their room, and raised a hand to knock. “It’s so cold… It’s so cold… It’s so cold…”
He said, “It’s so cold,” with every knock, making Shen Maomao feel colder as well.
The three people in the room held their breath, lying motionless in their beds.
After a short while, the old TCM practitioner gave up on their room and dragged his feet further down the hall.
Shen Maomao mentally counted his knocking route—310 → 307 → 308 → 305’s bathroom → 306’s bathroom, and then 303, where everyone was already dead…
Creeeak—it was the sound of a door opening.
The old TCM practitioner’s robotic “It’s so cold” immediately stopped. Then the door closed, and everything returned to silence.
Shen Maomao whispered, “Who’s in room 303??”
Lou Jingmo thought for a moment, then pointed to the right, hinting at the elevator. “That day when we were about to go downstairs, someone went up to the third floor without any hesitation. That person walked past us and toward the deeper end of the corridor. They probably went into 303.”
Who was that person? Was it Van Gogh? Or another one of the deceased? Why would he open the door for the TCM practitioner? What was he trying to do?
The temperature in the room had gone from low to freezing. Shen Maomao was having trouble sleeping again.
She burrowed into her quilt, took out her phone, and continued playing Tetris. She only started to feel sleepy again after more than an hour.
The next morning, Shen Maomao woke up in a daze, only to find that the flag5 she had casually mentioned last night had actually come true! She was the only one in the room. Lou Jingmo and Golden Retriever were gone!
Shen Maomao threw off the covers and sat up, feeling an overwhelming urge to curse.
Lou Jingmo would never leave her to act alone, so what was going on? Was she dreaming? Or had she been inexplicably pulled into the Inner World?
She felt a little creeped out, but thanks to her contract with Lou Jingmo, she wasn’t too worried about herself—after all, she was a woman with a revival coin.
With that thought, her courage returned. She draped the quilt over her shoulders, put on her shoes, and walked briskly toward the door.
She grasped the doorknob, but then a thought struck her. She quietly crouched down and, lying on the floor, peeked out from under the bed—in the hallway outside, as far as her eyes could see, it was crowded with legs that were all of uniform thickness and length, and all wearing identical shoes.
Shen Maomao: “!!”
The moment she saw it, her vision blurred. In the next second, the air distorted, and she was lying back in bed, her eyes watching the ceiling slowly untwist.
Shen Maomao: “???”
What the hell?!
What did she just see?
She recognized those shoes. All the players wore them upon entering the game. The legs were smooth and well-proportioned, and the shoes were about a size 37 or 38—clearly a girl’s feet.
So whose legs were those?! Why were there so many, as if they had been copied and pasted?
The sound of Lou Jingmo’s even breathing reached her ears, confirming that she had returned to the game’s reality. She took out her phone and checked the time. It was around 6:30 in the morning, the fifth day since they had entered this instance dungeon.
One more day today, one more day tomorrow, and then the day after that, the ghosts in the inn would enter berserk mode. At that point, none of them would be able to escape.
Lou Jingmo was sleeping soundly, as if she wasn’t worried about leaving at all.
Shen Maomao sighed and silently took out her phone.
If there was a problem she couldn’t figure out, she might as well play a game for a bit to relax.
She hadn’t even relaxed for two levels when Lou Jingmo opened her eyes and stared at her, her face expressionless.
Shen Maomao’s movements paused, terrified that in the next second, she would open her mouth and ask what time it was.
Who would have thought that Lou Jingmo would ask, “Did you have a dream?”
Shen Maomao hesitated. “I had a… not-quite-a-dream dream?”
Lou Jingmo averted her gaze and said in a low voice, “Me too.”
A sentence blurted out of Shen Maomao’s mouth: “You also dreamed of several dozen pale thighs?”
Lou Jingmo: “…???”
The author has something to say:
Happy New Year’s Eve, everyone!! As per the old rules, I’ll be sending out red envelopes to the first fifty comments on this chapter!
Also, is this title really that much of a turn-off? I’m terrible at coming up with names after all _(??`」 ∠)_
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