Chapter 2

The hotel was situated on the Andes Mountains, flanked by ridges on two sides and a cliff on the other. The entire decor and furnishings were in a European ancient castle style. Beyond the iron fence and archway, grey-green vines climbed, layered and shrouded under the snow. The windows were foggy, unable to let a single ray of sunlight in.

The plants in the perimeter garden had long since withered. A few green plants stood listlessly, showing little sign of life. When the cold wind picked up at night, the rustling dead branches, visible through the bay window, shook madly like lanky, eerie ghosts.

In short: What a dump. No taste at all.

Qin Guan was revisiting an old haunt. This time, he’d doggedly followed all the way here, full of resentment. And to top it off, Jiang Xiao just looked completely baffled, his expression screaming, “Why would I invite you?”

Jiang Xiao was, indeed, still completely disoriented, only to hear the System say:

[Qin Guan, Acting Department student, your roommate.]

[You have heard the rumor that he once beat up three thugs single-handedly.]

[He is homophobic. Your relationship is average.]

These few brief descriptions were enough to sketch a rough outline of the two people’s relationship.

“Any other info?” Jiang Xiao asked.

The System: “That’s all.”

Jiang Xiao: “…”

So this was the difficulty of Hell Mode.

“You… really wanted to come?” Jiang Xiao couldn’t help asking, puzzled.

Qin Guan choked at Jiang Xiao’s counter-question. His expression turned unnatural, and after a moment, he forced a cough. “Who said I wanted to? I was just passing through, happened to run into you. If it weren’t for me, who knows where you’d be, not even watching where you’re walking—”

As he spoke, Qin Guan suddenly felt something was off. His gaze narrowed, fixing on Jiang Xiao’s eyes.

Jiang Xiao’s wrist was still held by Qin Guan. He gently pulled outward, signaling to let go. The hotel temperature wasn’t very high, his hand icy cold, but the other’s fingers were burning hot, his body like a blazing furnace.

“What’s wrong with your eyes?” Qin Guan said, his voice deepening.

At the same moment, another voice came from behind. Compared to Qin Guan’s wild, untamable quality, this voice was much more gentle and serene: “Xiaoxiao? What’s wrong?”

Qin Guan looked towards the newcomer, eyes narrowing slightly, his voice laced with concealed hostility. “Wen Xu. You’re here too.”

[Wen Xu, medical student, your childhood friend.]

[You have been neighbors since elementary school, inseparable.]

[Hidden Identity: Your current Boyfriend]

[Clear Condition Tip: Do not break character (OOC) or casually reveal your relationships with others. Otherwise, there is a chance to trigger the [Certain Death] ending.]

Jiang Xiao faltered slightly. How was there a current boyfriend too…

Did Wen Xu know about his ex-boyfriend…s?

Wen Xu was dressed in a dress shirt and trousers, his face calm as he looked down at them from the top of the stairs. He stood in stark contrast to Qin Guan in his vest and ripped jeans, the latter’s face practically screaming, “Touch me and you die, pal.”

Wen Xu’s gaze slid downwards, landing on Qin Guan’s fingers gripping Jiang Xiao’s wrist.

“Please let go of him.”

Wen Xu’s stare was like a freshly sharpened, snow-white blade. An ordinary person might have crumbled under such a look, but Qin Guan was no ordinary person. He turned up the corner of his mouth and retorted, “If anyone, shouldn’t that be my line for you?”

Jiang Xiao silently digested the fact he had a boyfriend, acutely aware of the surging undercurrent between the two men. He started listening with relish, privately musing over the clues in their dialogue.

First, there was conflict between these two.

Second, if Qin Guan had a bad relationship with him, why did he come? Was it out of roommate loyalty, wanting to attend his birthday party?

The System, seemingly unable to watch any longer, prompted: “You’re not going to manage this?”

“This can be managed?” Jiang Xiao asked blankly. “Isn’t this the plot-progression segment right now?”

Jiang Xiao thought the bickering part was all a fixed cutscene.

The System: “…”

The System: “Should a character’s Favorability drop into the negatives, it will pose a life-threatening danger to you.”

Jiang Xiao asked, with great interest, “So what’s their current Favorability towards me?”

The System: “You don’t want to know.”

Very suggestive. This time it was Jiang Xiao’s turn for six dots to appear above his head. “What do those two look like? Can you show me? The voices alone are a bit hard to imagine.”

The System didn’t play dumb this time. Two full-body photo cards appeared before Jiang Xiao’s eyes. He zoomed in with a thought and couldn’t help a laugh. “Pretty perfect character models.”

In the photo, Wen Xu leaned one hand on a table, looking over calmly, a hint of modest warmth at the corner of his mouth. White dress shirt, black pants, the buttons done all the way up, sleeves immaculately tidy. His temperament was as gentle and smooth as jade. A handsome young man, one who inspired favorable impressions at a glance.

“Looks like a decent person,” Jiang Xiao appraised.

Qin Guan, on the other hand, was straddling a motorcycle boldly. Black leather jacket, black jeans, his red hair sticking up rebelliously. His features were deep-set, his brow bone especially defined. His aura was sharper and colder, like whiskey. Just looking from afar was enough to conjure a burning sensation on the tongue. With his looks, he’d photograph wonderfully for magazine spreads.

“Has this guy been a school bully before?” Jiang Xiao muttered to himself.

The System: “No, but his fighting prowess is indeed real.”

Great, another stereotype about the redhead reinforced.

During Jiang Xiao’s brief chat with the System, the nearby Qin Guan had already single-handedly escalated matters to the brink of a serious brawl. “You, pretty boy, I’ve disliked you for ages. Talk is cheap. I’ll let you throw the first three moves. If you can even touch—”

“Stop arguing.” Jiang Xiao finally spoke. “It’s my birthday today. I hope you can all… be a little happy.”

The flames above Qin Guan’s head gradually died down, his attention snapping back. He asked again, “What’s wrong with your eyes?”

Qin Guan waved a hand in front of his face, and Jiang Xiao showed absolutely no reaction.

Jiang Xiao didn’t really know what was going on with his eyes either. He just gave a vague reply: “It was an accident.”

“You can’t see a thing?” Qin Guan’s tone was serious. He continued, “What did the doctor say.”

The scariest thing was a roommate’s sudden concern.

“The doctor said it’s temporary nerve compression. It’ll get better after a while.” Having endured Qin Guan’s merciless verbal assault, Wen Xu’s tone was still mild, leaving it impossible to tell if he was actually angry or not. He just took Jiang Xiao’s hand and wrapped an arm around his lower back as support, murmuring, “Ten steps up ahead. Be careful.”

Qin Guan watched their retreating figures, his eyes carrying an indecipherable meaning. After a long pause, he scoffed, shoved one hand in his pocket, and followed behind them.

Jiang Xiao had not yet adapted to living without his sight. Every step was taken with trepidation. Fortunately, Wen Xu’s assistance was meticulous and perfectly timed—how many steps before ascending stairs, where there were turns—he told him everything in advance. As they walked, Jiang Xiao’s stress response to the unfamiliar environment greatly reduced.

With Wen Xu there, he wouldn’t fall.

The three entered the room.

Usually, Jiang Xiao’s birthdays involved inviting dozens of people. For this gathering, he’d said he wanted to keep it small, just invite a few close friends. The room didn’t need to be large, so Wen Xu had booked a suite.

The interior was a medieval European style. The tables, chairs, and bed were all replicas of the period’s design. On the wall hung a mechanical clock, the same model as the large one in the main hall. Its gears swung endlessly, the weights swaying back and forth. Every hour, it would “Ding—” chime out.

A romantic, vintage feel.

“The others haven’t arrived yet.” Wen Xu glanced at the wall clock. “They should be here soon. I’ll go check.” He looked over at Qin Guan, who was half-sprawled on the sofa armrest, and leaned slightly closer to Jiang Xiao, his voice gentle. “Let’s go rest in the bedroom first.”

Before Jiang Xiao could answer, Qin Guan, as if hearing something hilarious, guffawed. “Go into the bedroom to do what? I’m not going to eat him. What are you afraid of?”

Jiang Xiao also sensed Wen Xu’s wariness towards Qin Guan. He thought it over and felt Qin Guan likely harbored no ill intent. Besides, he still wanted to find a chance to pump Qin Guan for intel.

Based on intuition, Jiang Xiao felt Wen Xu was harder to deal with than Qin Guan. As for the specific reason, he couldn’t articulate it yet.

Wen Xu poured a glass of water and placed it in Jiang Xiao’s hands. He said to Qin Guan, “Then I’ll entrust Xiaoxiao to your care.”

Qin Guan didn’t acknowledge him. After Wen Xu left, he turned to Jiang Xiao and said, “Wouldn’t you say he has some kind of persecution complex? Always thinking I’m going to whisk you away?”

Jiang Xiao, holding the slightly scalding cup that perfectly warmed his hands, smiled at these words. “He’s just that kind of personality.”

Jiang Xiao spaced out for a bit, mulling over how to extract information from Qin Guan. He just felt the sofa cushion beside him sink—

Qin Guan had come over at some point. His vest, still carrying the chill of wind and snow, brushed against Jiang Xiao’s sweater. He stared at Jiang Xiao’s somewhat bloodless face. After a moment, his voice dropped deliberately low, carrying an eerie, gloomy tone.

“You know what? People have died in this hotel.”

Jiang Xiao’s brow jumped, a cold chill rising from his heart. “That’s impossible—”

“Why impossible? I heard it was in this very room. A single dagger blow, instant death.” Qin Guan continued his vividly graphic description. “Blood flowed everywhere. They didn’t find the body until the next day. Terrible way to go. The killer clearly came prepared.”

“Every late night, when it’s quiet, people staying in the hotel hear someone crying, ‘What a wrongful death…’ What do you think? Will you be the ‘lucky one’ to hear that voice tonight?”

Qin Guan’s storytelling was too immersive. Jiang Xiao slowly shifted away, trying to keep his voice steady. “Scaring a kid with that tale?”

Although Jiang Xiao didn’t want to believe it, the fact the other man suddenly spun such a story at this moment—was he implying he was going to come kill him tonight?

After all, the instance description had made it perfectly clear: someone would die on the first night.

“Will the Player be killed at night?” Jiang Xiao asked the System.

The System: “Yes.”

“What?!” Jiang Xiao broke down. “Why are you only telling me something this important now? And what happens if I die?”

“Death in the game counts as a failure to clear the stage.” The System’s voice was unruffled. “I already warned you.”

When a character’s Favorability was negative, the Player had a chance to trigger the [Certain Death] ending.

The game couldn’t be saved.

…So the Player wasn’t safe inside the game either. Life-or-death crises lurked at all times.

And inside this crisis-riddled instance, he was blind too, unable to even walk normally.

Jiang Xiao exhaled, his breath trembling slightly.

Qin Guan observed Jiang Xiao’s expression, noticing his pale face and the blueish tint of his knuckles gripping the cup. He’d genuinely scared the guy. Incredulous, he asked, “You actually believe this ghost story for kids?”

Jiang Xiao shot back, annoyed. “I’m a coward. Can’t I be?”

“Then do you want me to soothe you?”

The phrasing sounded a bit suggestive.

Jiang Xiao thought, How can a homophobic guy be more of a flirt than an actual gay man? Straight guys don’t normally talk like this.

This Qin Guan… deeply suspicious!

Qin Guan seemed to have just tossed the line out casually, not really expecting an answer.

The cup in Jiang Xiao’s hand was already cold. Qin Guan walked over to the beverage cabinet and made a cup of hot milk, swapping out Jiang Xiao’s cup.

Jiang Xiao flinched suddenly, as if spooked. A moment later, he cautiously sniffed the bottom of the cup, but didn’t drink.

He couldn’t see, but he could feel how low the temperature was here. Even with the fireplace burning, it wasn’t very warm. The cold just crept into the body.

But anything given by others… he didn’t dare drink casually.

Qin Guan scanned Jiang Xiao’s face, indistinct in the rising steam. His chin was tucked into the high collar of his cashmere sweater. His fingers were long and elegant, flushed faintly pink from the warmth. Those usually bright, sparkling eyes were now like dust-covered gems, reflecting no one at all.

“It’ll get cold if you don’t drink it.” Qin Guan clicked his tongue. “You don’t seriously think I put something in it, do you? It’s just one measly ghost story.”

Jiang Xiao simply pretended not to hear.

“I am a bit surprised. That you came to my birthday party.” Jiang Xiao rubbed the cup’s side, affecting a thoughtful look. “Our relationship is usually… just average.”

Jiang Xiao truly didn’t understand. Did Qin Guan have ulterior motives for him, or did he just hate him?

Everything inexplicable had to have a reason.

Qin Guan didn’t answer immediately. He looked at Jiang Xiao with an expression Jiang Xiao couldn’t have understood even if he still had his vision. A long moment later, he said lightly:

“Felt sorry for you.”

“Those days you were in the hospital after the car accident—I came to see you. You were lying in the ICU. Could only watch through the glass.”

“As for the other stuff… what’s the big deal? Besides… I don’t hate you that much either.”

Saying this, Qin Guan cleared his throat sharply, forcibly breaking the sentimental mood himself. He switched topics and started airing old grievances. “And then what do you do? Didn’t invite me to your birthday. You never invited me before, either. Ha.”

His anger seemed to grow the more he spoke.

Jiang Xiao: “…”

Jiang Xiao said, dryly, “Next time for sure.”

Clearly a perfunctory answer.

“Also,” Qin Guan slipped back into that lazy, untamed drawl from before, but laced with a trace of something like mockery, “I see you and Wen Xu have a pretty good relationship. You don’t actually believe him, do you? That the car accident was just an accident?”

Jiang Xiao froze for a moment. “It wasn’t?”

At the same time, a line of red text flashed before Jiang Xiao’s eyes:

[Quest Triggered]

Side Mission (A-Rank):

Before your birthday, you were in a car accident, resulting in blindness in both eyes. After an investigation, you narrowed down the suspects to three people. Therefore, you decided to use this birthday party as a pretext to invite them, seeking to find holes in their stories.

In your opinion, it was ( ) who orchestrated this car accident.

Tip: You have only one chance to fill in the answer. Completing the side mission yields a substantial reward. There is no penalty for failure.

Jiang Xiao was slightly stunned. He hadn’t expected this instance’s backstory to have such a significant origin, one tied to himself.

By this logic, the person who engineered the accident had a grudge against him.

“Of course. I’ve already figured out who did it. But you…”

Qin Guan’s words cut off abruptly as the door opened.

Jiang Xiao’s heart lurched anxiously. Subconsciously, he leaned even closer to Qin Guan’s direction. They were already sitting very close. In this position now, he was almost settling into Qin Guan’s arms.

Who did it? Just say it!