Gu Jiu appeared in an ancient house wearing a bright red wedding dress.
The house, though meticulously cleaned, bore the marks of time, showing it had weathered many years of change.
At the moment, she was seated in a room within the house. This room was supposed to be a bridal chamber, but it lacked any festive decorations and was sparsely furnished, looking more like an empty shell.
After pondering for a moment, she stepped out of the door.
As soon as she exited, someone walked toward her.
Gu Jiu looked up and smiled, “Ah Ji.”
Lu Ji strode up to her. When he saw the luxurious wedding dress she was wearing, a hint of amazement flickered in his eyes, but it was quickly replaced by a somber expression, as though he had just realized something unpleasant.
“Ah Jiu, why are you dressed like this?” he asked with difficulty.
Just as Gu Jiu was about to respond, another voice chimed in, “Of course, it’s because the young lady is a bride this time.”
Chai Yingying emerged from the adjacent room. She was dressed in a luxurious gown, her hair styled elegantly, and she exuded a stunning aura.
She scrutinized Gu Jiu’s wedding dress and sighed, “Young lady, you look absolutely gorgeous in that dress. You must be the most beautiful bride in the world. So, who did you just marry? Was the wedding crowded?”
Her curiosity was purely gossip-driven.
Gu Jiu rolled her eyes at her and then turned to Lu Ji. “I encountered a male ghost, gave him a good beating, so the wedding doesn’t count.”
“Isn’t that a ghost marriage?” Chai Yingying interjected. “Young lady, ghost marriages are notoriously difficult to shake off.”
Lu Ji’s expression darkened even further.
Gu Jiu smiled faintly. “If I don’t acknowledge it, it doesn’t count as a ghost marriage.” She turned to Chai Yingying. “And what about your attire? What are you dressed as?”
“Oh, it’s based on the death notice I received on my phone—’Widowhood.’ I seem to be a black widow who maliciously killed her husband. Just now, I was almost killed by the ghost of my dead husband.” Chai Yingying waved her eerie, unregistered phone. “It seems these so-called death notices are messages sent to our phones. They really do resemble literal death notices.”
This time, the game’s task was to avoid death scenarios. Judging by this, what they had experienced so far seemed to be just a warm-up, more like an introductory challenge for them.
The two of them glanced at Lu Ji and noticed that his clothing was perfectly normal—exactly the same as when he had entered the game.
Chai Yingying asked curiously, “Lu Ji, why hasn’t your attire changed?”
Lu Ji brushed off the question casually. “I took the opportunity to change back into my own clothes.” Saying this, he stared intently at Gu Jiu’s wedding dress.
His gaze darkened, his thoughts unreadable, but his expression carried a tinge of eeriness.
Chai Yingying, who had initially wanted to probe further, refrained from doing so after noticing his demeanor. She feared that if Lu Ji lost his temper, the consequences would be unpredictable.
She figured that he must be deeply bothered by the young lady wearing a wedding dress for someone else, wisely choosing not to bring it up further.
Only Gu Jiu understood that Lu Ji was not an ordinary player. Those so-called death notices barely affected him; he likely didn’t take them seriously at all.
Especially now that she knew his true identity, it was evident that he didn’t even bother to conceal his actions anymore.
After the three of them regrouped, they randomly picked a direction and moved forward.
Passing through a winding corridor, they arrived at a grand hall.
Inside the hall, three players were already present—two men and one woman. All three had changed into period-appropriate attire that matched the ancient house’s atmosphere. However, the styles didn’t conform strictly to any specific dynasty. One male player wore Tang dynasty attire, another wore a Republican-era long gown, and the female player was dressed in a Qing dynasty cheongsam.
The players all looked bewildered.
Were they here to play some sort of role-playing game?
Upon seeing Gu Jiu’s group, the three greeted them amicably.
Players, aside from competing for points, typically had no direct conflicts of interest within the game worlds. Most of the time, they were each other’s most reliable allies. As such, there was little reason to provoke hostility unnecessarily.
Chai Yingying, being a skilled and sociable game hunter, quickly struck up a conversation with them and exchanged names.
The player in Tang dynasty attire introduced himself as Zhou Anmin, the one in the Republican long gown as Tong Shen, and the female player as Tan Lan.
Chai Yingying proactively shared, “My phone’s death notice says ‘Widow.’ What about yours?”
Tan Lan replied, “Mine says ‘Hanged Ghost.’” As she spoke, she touched her neck, recalling her earlier experience where a white silk ribbon had nearly strangled her after dropping from the ceiling. The memory was far from pleasant.
Zhou Anmin said, “Mine is ‘Playful Ghost.’”
Everyone immediately turned to look at him with subtle expressions. Zhou Anmin hastily defended himself, “I swear I’m not flirtatious or indecent!”
“What happened to you just now?” Tan Lan asked curiously.
Zhou Anmin cleared his throat. “I was in an ancient-style house, surrounded by a lot of beautiful women. They came in all shapes and sizes… uh, I knew they weren’t human. I didn’t do anything, but I almost got killed by them.”
By the end, he looked quite aggrieved. To his dismay, not only was he thrown into this bizarre game world, but the ghosts here had turned on him as well. Any allure they might have held was entirely negated by the mortal danger.
The others offered him a few seconds of sympathy before turning their attention to Tong Shen.
Tong Shen explained, “My phone message said ‘Republican-era Opium Addict.’ I woke up lying on a brick bed in the adjacent room. Next to me on a table was a pile of opium, and a pitch-black ghost was trying to light a pipe for me.” (TL: If I was there I would’ve laughed 💀)
To be honest, encountering such scenarios right after entering the game was overwhelming, even for players with strong psychological resilience. Without any prior mental preparation, it was hard not to be shaken.
After comparing their phone messages, the group came to understand that the messages were essentially titles provided by the game world—death notices that hinted at their upcoming challenges. Strangely, their outfits had also changed to match their assigned roles and the corresponding scenes, adding another layer of complexity that left them puzzled. Why did the game bother changing their clothes?
“This young lady’s attire doesn’t seem to have changed,” Tan Lan said, turning to look at Lu Ji.
Lu Ji was still dressed in women’s clothing—a black dress paired with an elegant blazer—that Gu Jiu had prepared for him. His outfit stood out sharply against the ancient setting of the house.
Faced with their curious gazes, Lu Ji calmly said, “I changed back myself.”
Since Tan Lan and the others were unfamiliar with him, they didn’t comment further.
After comparing all their information, the players realized that their experiences so far were all centered around this ancient house. Even Gu Jiu’s ghost marriage, which initially seemed to take place in a desolate mountain, had ultimately led her back here in a bridal sedan chair.
This ancient house was the core location where the players’ challenges unfolded.
They waited in the hall for a while longer, and more players gradually arrived.
When Jiang Ze entered wearing a sleek black riding outfit, Chai Yingying, intrigued, asked, “Little Zeze, what’s up with your outfit? Did you get entangled with some female ghost?”
Jiang Ze replied, “I didn’t see any female ghosts, but I did encounter ghostly animals. I was almost trampled to death by a spectral horse.”
The players looked at Jiang Ze with sympathy but, reflecting on their own experiences, felt they deserved some sympathy themselves.
Half an hour later, thirteen players had gathered in the hall.
No one knew if there were other players, but the consensus was that if anyone hadn’t appeared by now, their fate was likely grim.
After waiting a while without any NPCs showing up, the players grew tired of idling. They decided to explore the ancient house further to see if they could uncover any clues.
The house wasn’t very large, and they finished exploring it fairly quickly.
Once the exploration was complete, they were left puzzled. The house seemed to be just an ordinary ancient building. If it were in the real world, it might even qualify as a heritage site under cultural protection laws.
Gu Jiu glanced outside and noted that it was nearing evening. “Let’s head out,” she said.
“Head out?” The group stared at her, bewildered, as if they didn’t understand what she meant.
Gu Jiu calmly pointed ahead. “There’s the main door of the house. We should be able to leave.”
The players followed her gesture and indeed saw a large door. A collective realization struck them—they had been overlooking something crucial all along.
They weren’t actually trapped inside the house. They could leave.
Influenced by their past experiences in other game worlds, the players had assumed that the house itself was the designated game arena. Typically, players were confined to the game’s set area, with limited freedom of movement.
As a result, no one had even considered the possibility of leaving the house.
Gu Jiu, without hesitation, walked up to the door, unlatched it, and pushed it open.
Seeing the door swing open, the players stared in disbelief before trailing after Gu Jiu.
As they stepped out, nothing unusual happened, confirming that the game arena extended beyond the ancient house. The players were not confined to a limited space this time.
Outside was a street full of historical charm, flanked by ancient-style buildings. However, the people walking along the street were dressed in modern clothing. When the players emerged, many passersby turned to look at them, their gazes admiring.
It was the same kind of curiosity and appreciation you’d expect from tourists in a historical town spotting people dressed in period costumes.
Chai Yingying commented, “This looks just like an ordinary ancient town.”
Of course, it couldn’t be just an ordinary town. If it were, the players wouldn’t have been sent here.
While the players observed their surroundings, a slightly chubby middle-aged man came jogging over, sweat beading on his face. Smiling broadly, he asked, “Why are you all coming out of the house? Have you finished your experience?”
Hearing this, the players realized this must be the NPC tasked with guiding them.
Chai Yingying responded smoothly, “Yes, we’ve finished. It was quite exhausting. Seeing how late it’s getting, we thought we’d go rest.”
The others remained silent, implicitly supporting Chai Yingying’s probing response.
The middle-aged man beamed. “I’ve already arranged accommodations for you. Come with me, and I’ll take you there.”
The players silently followed him.
As the man led the way, the players took the opportunity to observe the bustling ancient town and listen to Chai Yingying as she tried to extract information from the NPC.
Eventually, they managed to piece together some details about their assigned roles.
This was a well-known ancient town that attracted numerous tourists. According to the NPC, the players were also visitors who had come to experience life in the town. Earlier in the day, the middle-aged man had arranged for them to stay in the ancient house as part of an immersive experience.
Hearing this, the players exchanged glances, their expressions a mix of exasperation and resignation.
This ancient town seemed quite legitimate at first glance, but who would arrange for tourists to stay in an ancient house without a single guide accompanying them? Forget a guide—there wasn’t even a caretaker at the house earlier. Were they not worried about visitors accidentally damaging the antiques inside?
The sheer absurdity of the situation made it clear—they were being treated like fools, manipulated for some unknown purpose.
Still, even though the players could see through this setup, there was little they could do for now. They would have to wait and see if their phones sent any further messages to better understand the nature of this game world.