Dear player, from the moment you read the first word of this story, you are 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—and froze.
The couch beneath him was old and filthy. Dark brown stains covered the leather, giving off an indescribably foul odor.
This wasn't his couch.
He slowly turned his head and surveyed the living room.
This wasn't his living room, either.
The apartment was clearly old. Whitewash flaked from the walls, which bore the same dirty brown stains.
Shao Lan leaned closer.
As someone who frequently dealt with corpses, he recognized them.
Dried blood and fluids from decomposing bodies...
Across from the couch stood a small funeral altar.
Symmetrical arrangements of white and yellow chrysanthemums flanked an incense burner, pastries, and offerings of fruit.
But where the memorial portrait should have been, there was 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, its streaked glass reflecting Shao Lan's pale face.
He was a registrar who worked the front desk at a funeral home.
Yesterday, after getting off work in the early hours, he'd come down with a sudden fever. He'd taken some medicine and fallen into a heavy sleep on the couch in his rented apartment.
Now he'd woken up here.
Where the hell was this?
With this much evidence of murder in the room, had he been abducted by a killer?
A click suddenly broke the silence.
Shao Lan whipped his head around.
In the corner, a wooden owl popped out of a mantel clock.
With this kind of old clock, the owl emerged on the hour to announce the time.
It was exactly four in the morning. The owl emerged, but instead of calling the hour, it cried...
"The game begins! The game begins!"
A game?
Shao Lan blinked.
After those two calls, the owl retracted on its spring.
At the same time, the security door nearby clicked.
Someone had come in?
In a split second, Shao Lan rolled off the couch and slipped into the gap beneath it.
The couch stood high enough off the floor to accommodate him, barely. Even so, he had to lie completely flat on his stomach, his face pressed against the floor.
He felt uneven grooves beneath him and reached out to trace them with his fingers.
"Rules."
The word had been carved crookedly into the floor with a small knife. The grooves were red and carried a sickly sweet metallic smell, as though stained with blood.
Shao Lan felt around, but there was nothing else.
Footsteps approached. He quickly withdrew his hand.
Holding his breath, he peered through the gap beneath the couch...
A pair of old-fashioned red embroidered shoes stopped right in front of him.
Their soles were vivid red. The exposed skin above them was deathly pale, tinged with blue.
Every hair on his body stood on end.
Fortunately, the red shoes didn't linger. A few seconds later, their owner turned and headed deeper into the apartment.
The kitchen light came on. Pots and bowls clattered, followed by a thump as the refrigerator door opened.
The strange odor instantly thickened. Shao Lan sniffed, but his fever had left his nose stuffy and dulled his sense of smell.
He edged his head out from under the couch and carefully looked toward the kitchen.
Through the gaps between table legs and miscellaneous clutter, he could just see one corner of the refrigerator.
The freezer was coated in white frost and packed with meat.
Wait...
Shao Lan blinked hard.
He wasn't imagining it.
Among the frozen cuts was a blackened human head, crusted with ice.
A moment later, the refrigerator shut.
The kitchen door closed as well. The heavy thud of chopping meat came from inside.
In the living room, with nothing else but the rain, Shao Lan could hear his own rapid breathing.
Clearly, this was a serial killer's home.
He'd been transported here in his sleep without knowing a thing. Strangely, the killer seemed unaware of his presence.
That was good. It meant he could get the hell out.
Shao Lan quickly crawled out from under the couch, took off his shoes, and held them in one hand. In his socks, he ran toward the security door on his left.
At that very moment, a bedroom door opened.
A dark figure darted out and collided squarely with him.
"Ah! Sorry, sorry!"
The figure stopped and steadied Shao Lan in a panic.
He was a tall young man in a white athletic tank top, broad-shouldered, with clearly defined arm muscles. At first glance, he looked seriously tough.
Unfortunately, his hair was a bedhead disaster, and his eyes kept blinking. Even in the dark, he radiated a particular brand of innocent stupidity.
Right now, he was apologizing so frantically that he could barely get his words out.
"Man, I'm sorry. Our team went out to eat and had a few drinks. I think I went to the wrong place. I'm not a bad guy. Here's my student ID..."
He held up a campus card bearing the words "Jiang Mingran, School of Competitive Sports, XX Sports University."
Jiang Mingran was still explaining, red-faced and agitated, when Shao Lan's expression changed.
The chopping in the kitchen behind him had stopped.
"Inside!"
Shao Lan yanked Jiang Mingran into the bedroom and locked the door behind them.
The instant he saw what was inside, his pupils contracted.
Here, too, stood a funeral altar and an owl clock, identical to those in the living room. Four small red goldfish swam slowly in another tank.
"Call the police," Shao Lan said urgently.
"The... police?" Jiang Mingran looked completely lost.
"There's a body in the kitchen refrigerator," Shao Lan said flatly.
Jiang Mingran's eyes widened. He searched Shao Lan's face and, once certain this was no joke, went pale.
He hurriedly checked his pockets. Unfortunately, like Shao Lan's, his phone was gone.
Shao Lan's face darkened. He hid behind the door and signaled Jiang Mingran to keep quiet.
Footsteps approached, soles tapping softly against the floor.
Copying Shao Lan, Jiang Mingran lay down and looked out through the gap beneath the door.
A pair of old-fashioned red embroidered shoes stood just outside.
His heart leaped into his throat. He didn't dare make a sound.
The owner of the shoes said nothing, simply standing quietly outside.
Through the gap, they saw the red shoes take a sudden step back.
Shao Lan realized first what the person outside intended to do. He instantly moved aside, pressed against the wall, and reached for Jiang Mingran.
Too late.
Before Jiang Mingran could get up, an eye suddenly appeared right in front of him, on the other side of the gap.
The woman had lain down outside the door. Their eyes met through the crack.
Goose bumps erupted all over Jiang Mingran.
The eye was huge. Its hollow socket was almost entirely white. Where the black pupil should have been, there was only a tiny gray dot, surrounded by a dense web of blood vessels.
Jiang Mingran tried to spring up, but Shao Lan held him down.
With a gesture, Shao Lan told him: Don't move.
That half minute seemed endless. Jiang Mingran didn't dare breathe, make a sound, or even blink.
Thirty seconds later, the eye vanished from the gap.
Shao Lan let out a long breath and silently mouthed a few words to Jiang Mingran.
He understood: "She can't see."
The cornea of that eye had completely degenerated. It couldn't see anything at all.
That had only been a test. Had Jiang Mingran made even the slightest sound in his panic, he would have died.
The red embroidered shoes reappeared as the woman stood up.
She seemed to be deciding whether to push the door open or return to the kitchen.
Just then...
Creeeak.
The other bedroom door opened.
There was a fourth person in this apartment!
A pair of cloth shoes entered Shao Lan and Jiang Mingran's field of view.
The fourth person seemed to be an old man.
There appeared to be something wrong with his legs. He dragged one foot as he walked, his steps shaky and uncertain.
Shao Lan and Jiang Mingran watched helplessly as he approached the red embroidered shoes.
"What is this place...?" His voice was frightened and bewildered. "Who are you...?"
The hoarse voice cut off.
Before either of them could react, a crisp crack of breaking bone rang out. The old man crashed to the floor.
His neck had been twisted to an unnatural angle, his face turned toward the gap beneath their door.
His aged features were distorted, his eyes stretched impossibly wide.
As though he'd seen something utterly terrifying.
Jiang Mingran instinctively reached to open the door and rush out.
Shao Lan grabbed him.
In the darkness, Jiang Mingran felt that his hand was as cold as ice.
"It's too late." Shao Lan shook his head and gestured.
"He's dead."