Qing Li’s startled reaction earned her a few sharp glares, but everyone quickly shifted their attention back to the wall.
On the wall, fresh blood had congealed into horrifying sentences. The words themselves were terrifying, but their meaning sent chills down their spines.
—
“They’ve come again. I hid under the bed and heard their heavy footsteps approaching. They took my sister from the bed next to mine.
My sister came back, but she seemed strange. She said she had a gift for me. I nodded, and she gouged out her eyes. There was so much blood.
My sister smells bad now. Her body is crawling with bugs. The bugs climbed from her bed onto mine, making me itch all over.
They’re here. This time, they stopped by my bed. I held my breath as I hid under the bed, cold sweat soaking through my hospital gown, praying for them to leave quickly.
‘Found you. Found you. Found you. Found you…'”
—
The last two words appeared over and over, filling the pristine white wall until they covered every inch. The blood-red words began to overflow, consuming the space where Qing Li and the others stood.
“Crack—”
The scene shattered. Everything disappeared.
In the blink of an eye, they found themselves in a new, unfamiliar environment. Judging by the setup, it looked like a hospital ward. Six rusted iron-framed beds were arranged in the room, each covered in mold-stained bedding.
A faint smell of disinfectant mixed with the subtle stench of decay lingered in the air.
“Buzz buzz buzz—”
Qing Li’s wristwatch suddenly vibrated. She raised her hand to see a string of text appear on the screen:
Game Name: East Suburb Hospital at 3 AM
Danger Level: 3.5 stars
Objective: Survive until 5 AM.
Hint 1: Shh… keep your voice down.
Hint 2: [Locked: Unlock with 10,000 popularity points]
Hint 3: [Locked: Unlock with 30,000 popularity points]
“3.5 stars?!”
Contestant No. 74, Zhou Ya, gasped in shock. Under the dim light, her pale face took on a sickly yellow hue.
“We’re all ranked at the bottom. How are we supposed to survive a 3.5-star difficulty? It’s practically a death sentence,” said Contestant No. 65, Shen Ruo, in a defeated tone.
The others looked equally grim. Only Qing Li, who seemed completely clueless, asked curiously, “Excuse me, what does ‘popularity points’ mean?”
“Popularity points are rewards from viewers in the livestream. They can be used to buy special tools, which are crucial for our survival. Once we return to the real world, popularity points can also be exchanged for real money,” a scholarly man with silver-framed glasses explained to Qing Li.
“I’m No. 81, Lin Zizhou,” he introduced himself with a forced smile, though it was more filled with defeat and despair than friendliness.
“Thank you,” Qing Li nodded politely before turning her attention to her own livestream screen. The icon representing her popularity points showed a grim 0.
One popularity point = one yuan.
Her lowered gaze sparkled as though she had just discovered a get-rich-quick scheme.
—
[Haha, little village girl, you’re so pathetic! Newbies without popularity points can’t buy tools. You’re already far behind everyone else.]
[Little village girl, call me ‘good brother,’ and I’ll reward you with a lollipop.]
[Guys, let’s crowdfund and get the little village girl a coffin in advance!]
—
The livestream viewers kept calling her “little village girl.” Qing Li absentmindedly smoothed her cowlick before secretly grinding her back molars.
“Good brother, I want a lollipop,” she said, her voice soft and sweet, ringing out suddenly and startling everyone else.
“No. 100, who the hell are you talking to?” barked an overweight man angrily.
“I… I was interacting with the viewers in the livestream!” Qing Li shrank her neck and replied in a small voice.
“Do you even know what kind of situation we’re in? And you still have the mind to chat with the livestream? You really are fearless, aren’t you?” a woman sneered with thinly veiled sarcasm.
Qing Li stole a glance at her. She must be No. 92, Lin Xue’er, judging by her heavily made-up face and how out of place she seemed compared to the others.
“That’s No. 92 Lin Xue’er,” whispered No. 74, Zhou Ya. “She’s a streamer in the real world.”
Qing Li nodded slightly, watching as Lin Xue’er, after finishing her snarky remark, suddenly started flailing her arms dramatically. “Oh, my good brothers! Send Xue’er some gifts! This game is too hard, and Xue’er doesn’t have enough points to buy tools! Wah wah wah!”
Qing Li gawked in amazement: You can do that?
“Shh, don’t talk,” said No. 65, Shen Ruo, suddenly lowering his voice. He pressed a finger to his lips, his eyes full of caution.
Lin Xue’er immediately shut up, nearly forgetting the first game hint: Shh, keep your voice down.
From beyond the tightly shut door, heavy footsteps approached. Each step thudded like a hammer on their hearts, making everyone tense with fear.
“They’re coming…” Lin Xue’er whispered, her hands clamping over her mouth as if to suppress a scream.
Tap—
Tap—
The sound of high heels clicking against cement grew clearer.
While the others huddled near the door, trembling, Qing Li nonchalantly tiptoed to the innermost hospital bed, stretched out, and comfortably lay down.
Having not slept in a real bed for a long time, she immediately closed her eyes in blissful contentment.
Recently, Qing Li had been sneaking naps on the sofas of KFC and McDonald’s. No matter how she tried, nothing compared to the comfort of a real bed.
The old iron-framed bed creaked and wobbled loudly as she lay down, startling the others yet again.
“What are you doing?” Lin Xue’er hissed angrily, trying to keep her voice low.
Qing Li lifted her wristwatch, swiped to the time page, and muttered pitifully, “It’s already 3 AM. It’s time to sleep.”
Everyone else: “…”
“You idiot! All you do is cause trouble!” Lin Xue’er spat in a hushed voice.
At that moment, Shen Ruo seemed to realize something. His expression shifted, and he quickly urged, “We should all lie down too. Hurry!”
Without another word, he chose the bed closest to Qing Li and lay down. The stench of mold was so overpowering it made him gag, but he gritted his teeth and covered himself with the filthy blanket.
Seeing Shen Ruo lie down, the others—though unsure of the reasoning—followed suit, each claiming one of the six available beds. Conveniently, there were just enough beds for all of them.
As the sound of footsteps outside came to an abrupt halt, the doorknob began to rattle softly, as though someone was trying to turn it.
Shen Ruo cast a glance at Qing Li, only to see her genuinely asleep, even letting out soft snores. He quickly turned his gaze away, questioning whether this was all just a coincidence.
“Creak—”
The door opened slowly.
Everyone lay perfectly still, eyes shut tight. Only Qing Li remained blissfully asleep, her quiet snores breaking the tense silence.
“Doctor, the patients are all asleep,” a chillingly cold female voice echoed through the room. It was raspy and dry, as though shards of glass were scraping her throat.
The sound of footsteps circled the room, moving back and forth.
“This one.”
A nauseating stench of decay filled the air, making Qing Li scrunch her nose unconsciously. Yet even this couldn’t disrupt her peaceful sleep. In her half-asleep state, she mumbled, “Ugh, stinky tofu smells so bad.”
If Qing Li had opened her eyes at that moment, she would have seen a rotting face leaning inches from her own, staring at her intently.
The footsteps resumed, the room door closed with a soft click, and the unsettling silence returned.
The other players, drenched in cold sweat, slowly sat up on their beds. As one, their gazes turned to Qing Li’s bed.
But the person was gone.
Hint 1: Shh, keep your voice down.
Did No. 100 get taken by the ghost because she snored in her sleep?