Chapter 1
Dear player, from the moment you read the first word of this story, you were already part of the game.
Whether you live or die is entirely up to you.
…
Drip. Drip.
The sound of water woke Shao Lan. He opened his eyes.
Still groggy, he sat up. Then he froze.
The sofa beneath him was old and filthy, its leather covered in dark brown stains. It gave off an indescribable stench.
This wasn’t his sofa.
Slowly, he turned his head and took in the living room.
This wasn’t his living room, either.
He was in an apartment that had clearly seen better days. The whitewash was peeling off the walls, which bore the same filthy dark brown marks.
Shao Lan leaned closer.
He dealt with corpses often enough to recognize them.
Dried blood and grease from decomposing bodies…
Opposite the sofa stood a small funeral altar.
Matching bouquets of white and yellow chrysanthemums flanked it, with an incense burner, pastries, and fruit offerings all in place.
But where the memorial portrait should have been sat an oval fish tank.
In the dim light, he could make out four small red goldfish swimming inside.
It seemed to be raining outside. Rain pattered against the window, and the streaked glass reflected Shao Lan’s pale face.
He was a clerk at the front desk of a funeral home.
After finishing his shift in the small hours of yesterday morning, he’d suddenly developed a fever. He’d taken some medicine and drifted into a heavy sleep on the sofa in his rented apartment.
Now he’d woken up here.
Where the hell was this?
With so much evidence of murder in the room, had some killer kidnapped him?
Suddenly, a click broke the silence.
Shao Lan whipped his head around.
In the corner, a wooden owl popped out of a mantel clock.
On old clocks like this, the owl emerged to announce each hour.
It was exactly four in the morning. The owl sprang out, but instead of announcing the time, it called…
“The game begins! The game begins!”
A game?
Shao Lan stared for a moment.
Having delivered its two cries, the owl retracted on its spring.
At the same moment, the apartment’s security door clicked nearby.
Was someone coming in?
In a flash, Shao Lan rolled off the sofa and squeezed into the gap beneath it.
The sofa stood high enough off the floor for him to just fit, but he had to lie completely flat, his face pressed against the floor.
There were uneven grooves in the floor. Shao Lan reached out to trace them with his fingers.
Rules.
The word had been crudely carved into the floor with a small knife. The grooves were red and smelled sweet and metallic, as though they held blood.
He felt around it. There was nothing else.
Footsteps approached. Shao Lan quickly pulled his hand back.
Holding his breath, he looked out through the gap beneath the sofa…
A pair of old-fashioned red embroidered shoes stopped right in front of him.
The soles were a vivid red. The exposed tops of the feet were deathly white, tinged with blue.
Every hair on Shao Lan’s body stood on end.
Fortunately, the shoes didn’t linger. A few seconds later, their owner turned and walked farther into the apartment.
The kitchen light came on. Pots and bowls clattered, then the refrigerator door opened with a bang.
The strange smell in the air grew much stronger. Shao Lan sniffed. His fever had left his nose blocked, dulling his sense of smell.
He edged his head out from under the sofa and cautiously looked toward the kitchen.
Through the clutter and a tangle of table legs, he could just see one corner of the refrigerator.
The freezer compartment was coated in white frost, packed full of meat.
Wait…
Shao Lan blinked hard.
He wasn’t imagining it.
Among the frozen meat lay a black human head, crusted with frost.
A second later, the refrigerator door shut.
The kitchen door closed, too. Heavy thuds came from inside as someone chopped meat.
In the living room, with nothing but the sound of rain around him, Shao Lan could hear his own rapid breathing.
Obviously, this was a serial killer’s home.
He’d been brought here in his sleep without knowing a thing. Oddly enough, the killer seemed unaware of his presence.
That was good. It meant he could get the hell out.
Shao Lan scrambled out from under the sofa, took off his shoes and carried them in one hand, then ran in his socks toward the security door on his left.
At that very moment, a bedroom door opened.
A dark figure darted out and collided with him head-on.
“Ah! Sorry, sorry!”
The figure stopped and caught Shao Lan in some alarm.
It was a tall, powerfully built young man in a white athletic tank top. He had broad shoulders and clearly defined arm muscles. At first glance, he looked like a real tough guy.
But his hair was a bedhead disaster, and his eyes kept blinking. Even in the dark, he radiated a sort of guileless stupidity.
He was currently babbling apology after apology.
“Hey, man, I’m sorry. Our team went out to dinner and had a few drinks. I must’ve come to the wrong place. I’m not a criminal or anything. Here’s my student ID…”
He held up a campus card. It read, “Jiang Mingran, School of Competitive Sports, XX Sports University.”
Jiang Mingran was still anxiously trying to explain, but Shao Lan’s expression had changed.
At some point, the chopping in the kitchen behind him had stopped.
“Inside!”
Shao Lan hauled Jiang Mingran into the bedroom and locked the door behind them.
Shock flickered in his eyes as he took in the room’s furnishings.
It had exactly the same funeral altar and owl clock as the living room. Four small red goldfish swam slowly in the tank here, too.
“Call the police,” Shao Lan said urgently.
“The p-police?” Jiang Mingran looked completely lost.
“There’s a body in the kitchen fridge,” Shao Lan said tersely.
Jiang Mingran’s eyes widened. He searched Shao Lan’s face, and when he was certain this was no joke, his expression changed at once.
He hurriedly searched his pockets. Unfortunately, just like Shao Lan’s, his phone was gone.
Shao Lan’s face was grim. He hid behind the door and motioned for Jiang Mingran to be quiet.
Footsteps drew closer, the soles making faint sounds against the floor.
Copying Shao Lan, Jiang Mingran lay flat and peered under the door.
A pair of old-fashioned red embroidered shoes stood just outside.
Jiang Mingran’s heart leaped into his throat. He didn’t dare make a sound.
The owner of the shoes made no sound, simply standing silently outside the door.
Through the gap, they saw the red shoes suddenly step back.
Shao Lan realized first what the person outside intended. He instantly moved aside, pressed himself against the wall, and reached for Jiang Mingran.
But he was too late.
Before Jiang Mingran could get up, an eye abruptly appeared in the gap right in front of him.
The woman had lain down outside. Through the gap beneath the door, her eye met his.
Goose bumps erupted all over Jiang Mingran.
The eye was huge, almost nothing but white inside its hollow socket. Where the black pupil should have been, there was only a tiny pale gray spot, surrounded by a dense web of blood vessels.
Jiang Mingran tried to spring up, but Shao Lan held him down.
Shao Lan gestured to him: Don’t move.
The next thirty seconds felt endless. Jiang Mingran didn’t dare breathe, didn’t dare make a sound, didn’t even dare blink.
After half a minute, the eye vanished from beneath the door.
Shao Lan let out a long breath and silently mouthed a few words to Jiang Mingran.
Jiang Mingran understood. He was saying, “She can’t see.”
The cornea in that eye had completely degenerated. It couldn’t see anything.
She’d only been testing them. If Jiang Mingran had made even the slightest sound out of fear, he would have been dead.
The red embroidered shoes reappeared in the gap. The woman had stood up.
She seemed to be deciding whether to open the door or return to the kitchen.
Just then…
Creeeak.
The door to the bedroom next door suddenly opened.
There was a fourth person in this apartment!
A pair of cloth shoes came into Shao Lan and Jiang Mingran’s view.
The fourth person appeared to be an old man.
He seemed to have trouble walking. He dragged one leg, his steps shaky and hesitant.
Shao Lan and Jiang Mingran could only watch as he walked up to the red embroidered shoes.
“What is this place…?” The old man sounded terrified and bewildered. “Who are you…?”
His hoarse voice cut off.
Before Shao Lan or Jiang Mingran could react, a sharp crack of breaking bone split the air. Then the old man collapsed heavily to the floor.
His neck was twisted at an unnatural angle, his face turned toward the gap beneath the door.
His aged features were contorted, both eyes stretched wide.
As though he had seen something utterly terrifying.
Instinctively, Jiang Mingran tried to open the door and rush out to him.
Shao Lan grabbed him.
In the dark, Jiang Mingran felt how icy Shao Lan’s hand was.
“It’s too late.” Shao Lan shook his head and made a gesture.
“He’s dead.”