By the time the players finished their discussion, day had fully broken.
Chilly sunlight filtered through the dilapidated windows, casting a wide swathe of pale light across the floor.
Qi Si stood by the window, gazing toward the west wing. Red silk and paper cutouts were sparsely plastered across the wall, resembling scabs forming over a burn.
Dressed in her red wedding gown, Xi'er crawled out of the doorway like a small animal, timidly peering toward the room where the players were staying.
She had returned to her human form. The arm exposed beneath her red sleeve was the color of living flesh, tinged with a healthy blush by the fabric and the morning light.
"I can't shake the feeling that this instance is strange. The NPCs are ghosts one moment and human the next; it's impossible to tell who's alive and who's dead." Li Yao sidled up behind Qi Si soundlessly. "'Double happiness'... that should traditionally refer to both a wedding and a funeral. But yesterday, Auntie Xu went on and on about the Joy God and never once mentioned a funeral."
"Didn't the preliminary prompt say, 'The living may not be alive, and the dead may not be dead'?" Liu Bingding eagerly offered his opinion. "Do you think it's possible that the dead can come back to life? Maybe that's why they don't place any importance on funerals."
Though he presented it as a reasonable speculation, it sounded more like a ghost story. Combined with the nightmares everyone had last night, it was easy for the idea to lead to some hair-raising conclusions.
Du Xiaoyu muttered a curse under his breath, while Shang Qingbei just kept his head down, saying nothing.
Qi Si took in their reactions, mentally reviewing the information they had so far.
In the dream, Xi'er had appeared on the empty bed as a monster. After "Li Yao" was startled awake, he had woken up too. After testing Xi'er, he had left the room with "Li Yao."
If that was *his* dream, the logic didn't add up.
—Why would Li Yao wake up before him and make a sound that woke him up?
—Why was it Li Yao, the person farthest from Xi'er, who woke up, and not Shang Qingbei, who was closest?
And how could he explain the joss paper that had mysteriously appeared on him?
Qi Si glanced up at the pale sky and recalled, "Last night, Xi'er appeared in my dream and Shang Qingbei's, asking for help. I think we can all agree on two things: first, the Joy God is not a benevolent entity; and second, Xi'er knows some secrets."
The players nodded in agreement.
Qi Si's gaze swept over each person as he asked with a smile, "I'm going to check on Xi'er now. Does anyone want to come with me?"
"Auntie Xu told us yesterday not to wander around, in case we disturb Xi'er." Shang Qingbei had no desire to be dragged out again like in his dream. "I believe that's one of the rules of this instance. Breaking it could lead to trouble."
"A rule that isn't written in black and white leaves room for interpretation. I'm just going to have a little chat with Xi'er. How could that be considered disturbing her?" Qi Si toyed with his fingers, his tone utterly sincere.
If they didn't know better, they might have actually believed him.
The players were left speechless, but ultimately, they didn't try to stop him.
Qi Si pushed the door open and stepped out. Seeing that no one was following, he let out a sigh of feigned helplessness.
But the moment he stepped into the west wing's courtyard, littered with red paper, the look of regret vanished from his face.
A chain of suspicion is an objective reality. Humans are rebellious by nature, and they never hesitate to assume the worst of others.
If he had gone over on his own without a word, one or two players might have secretly followed him, hoping to glean some information. But by openly inviting them along, he naturally made them suspicious, wondering if he was looking for a scapegoat.
Qi Si moved silently, stopping beside the girl in the wedding dress. He called her name softly, "Xi'er."
At the sound, the girl looked up. She stared blankly at the young man standing in the morning light, her vacant pupils reflecting no one's image.
Qi Si crouched down, leaning closer, his voice gentle and low. "Humans have a habit of sacrificing individuals for the benefit of the collective. But no matter how small the cost seems to the group, for the one paying it, the pain is heart-wrenching. No one can truly understand your suffering but you."
"Every forty-nine years, a girl is chosen. She's dressed in a wedding gown and dies at the peak of her glory, her bones left to sink in a well. The densest resentment dissolves into the water, providing the entire town with an endless stream of fortune. Sacrificing one person for the happiness of all... from a utilitarian perspective, it's a very good deal."
"But I'm no utilitarian, and I despise this philosophy of sacrificing one to save the many. After all, you never get to enjoy any of the benefits, while what you lose is real—something you once had, or have now. It's not just a bad deal; it's a total loss."
There was no light in Xi'er's eyes; she was like a stone, impossible to communicate with.
Qi Si smiled, slid a small blade from the silver bracelet on his right wrist, and discreetly pressed it into the girl's hand. "As I see it, everyone should have the right to decide their own fate. You may not be able to choose how you live, but at the very least, you can choose when you die, can't you?"
Xi'er clenched her fist around the blade. Her crimson sleeve hid her hand, making it impossible to spot anything unusual from a distance.
It was unclear how much she had understood. She simply sat there in silence, never once making a sound in response.
Qi Si stood up and headed back to the wing where the players were gathered.
Recalling the feel of Xi'er's right hand, he narrowed his eyes slightly.
—Her palm was warm and moist, her skin supple—the characteristics of a living person.
—There was a thick callus on the side of her index finger, likely from holding a pen for long periods.
This Xi'er was quite different from the one in the dream and the one Auntie Xu had described, clearly pointing toward another line of reasoning for solving the puzzle.
There were subtle contradictions in the clues, which meant an NPC was lying. The question was, of all the information they'd gathered so far, what was true and what was false?
From the moment Qi Si had left, Shang Qingbei had been standing by the window, watching his every move.
Seeing the young man return after only a few moments, he couldn't help but ask, "Qi Wen, what did you say to Xi'er? Did you get any useful information?" "I asked her about the Joy God and if she knew the secrets behind the wedding." Qi Si's expression was earnest as he sighed with regret. "Unfortunately, she didn't say a single word to me from beginning to end. It seems I was mistaken. She isn't the type of NPC who provides clues."
At that, Shang Qingbei was certain: the clue he had received in his dream last night was unique. Without him, the players who blindly trusted "Qi Wen" would most likely just circle around the correct answer, never managing to unravel the instance's lore.
It was about time. Hiding what he knew would only make completing the instance more difficult, and it would be bad if people started getting killed.
He cleared his throat and said, "Regarding the lore of this instance, I have a theory..."
"If it's just a theory, I suggest you swallow it and keep it to yourself," Qi Si interrupted. "We don't have enough clues yet. Piling up a bunch of different theories will only confuse things and interfere with our judgment later on."
Shang Qingbei choked on his words. He looked up to see the young man gazing at him with the kind of look one gives a child. "Little Qing, don't you worry. Only one-seventh of our time has passed. We still have six days. We'll figure out the lore eventually."
"..."
That damned nickname again, and that dismissive attitude...
A vein throbbed on Shang Qingbei's temple. He made a firm decision to keep the lore to himself a while longer and reveal everything at a more critical moment.
Having successfully bullied the kid and suppressed a potentially vital piece of information, Qi Si leisurely pulled a washcloth from his backpack and wiped his face, completing his morning routine.
He walked out of the wing and stopped just short of the courtyard gate, reaching out to give the wooden door a tentative push.
Without much force, the gate swung open with a *creak*, as if a mechanism had been triggered.
A bright red sedan chair burst into view.
The blood-red behemoth was parked on the ground outside, a huge character for "double happiness" embroidered in gold thread facing the gate. But a few threads hung loose, adding a sinister and bizarre touch.
The sedan chair was old. Its edges were worn and faded in many places, and it was mottled with sporadic stains, as if it had been stored in a damp warehouse for a long time before finally seeing the light of day.
Qi Si remembered that in his dream last night, the jet-black coffin had been parked in this exact spot, and it had even been roughly the same size as the sedan chair.
The line between dream and reality seemed to blur in an instant. Qi Si walked over step by step and crouched down beside the sedan chair.
Beneath the wooden frame supporting the chair, several pieces of white joss paper were pinned to the ground. They were smeared with dirt, dusty and crumpled, standing out starkly against the red.
"Qi Wen," Li Yao's voice came from behind him. "There's something I've been meaning to tell you."
Qi Si stood and turned to face her, giving her an encouraging look.
Li Yao's expression was grave. "That dream last night felt so real. It was like I was actually lying at the bottom of a well. The water around me was freezing cold, but I couldn't even shiver. My body was dead, but my soul was still trapped inside it, forced to watch as my flesh rotted away..."
"Do you remember the story I told you yesterday about the soul-summoning bell? There's actually another version where Wang Sheng's wife keeps haunting him, and the bell, with its power to ward off evil, is what allows him to live for another seven years. Do you think we might be haunted too, trapped in some kind of ghostly loop?"
Qi Si offered a gentle smile. "Why frighten yourself unnecessarily? In that strange tale, Zhang Sheng was plagued by nightmares after entering Double Happiness Town. That just proves our dreams are part of the instance's mechanics."
Li Yao shook her head slightly. "You don't understand. I've had premonitive dreams since I was a child—dreams of future events. Before entering this instance, I dreamed that I died. My body was left in a very dark, deep place, and I could hear the sound of water. I remember now... it must have been the well..."
"I remember there were many other bodies beside me in that dream. I think I even saw you... Do you think it's possible that we're already dead, and we just don't remember the moment it happened?"
Qi Si shook his head with a laugh. "Then tell me this: if I killed myself right now and you buried my body somewhere, wouldn't that so-called premonitive dream of yours be invalidated?"
Li Yao froze, her eyes widening in astonishment.
Qi Si continued placidly, "A fortune-teller once told my relatives that I was born under a bad star, that anyone who was kind to me would suffer misfortune. They used that as an excuse, with their shallow empiricism, to unleash all the malice they could conceive of upon me..."
He paused, a strange, contemplative quality entering his smile.
Li Yao murmured, "And then?"
"And then they all died. Horribly. Far worse than what you could call simple 'misfortune.'"
Qi Si turned his head to look Li Yao directly in the eye, an unusual light glinting within his. "That's why I never believe in so-called prophecies or fate. They're just excuses for the mediocre, self-comfort for losers."
"In my opinion, the only prophecy worth believing is that everyone dies in the end."
He said it in a joking tone, but his attitude was deadly serious. Li Yao was speechless, unsure how to respond.
The silence stretched for a full thirty seconds before Qi Si suddenly spoke. "Li Yao, where are your novels published?"
Li Yao was taken aback for a moment, and then she heard the young man continue, "I've realized my knowledge of the supernatural is too lacking. I'd like to read a few horror novels."
She couldn't help but chuckle. "My novels aren't very good; they get rejected often. If you want to read some shorter supernatural stories, you could subscribe to a magazine called *Supernatural World*."
"Alright. I'm still curious about your novels, but thanks for the recommendation," Qi Si said with a smile, though there was no warmth in his eyes.
He had subscribed to *Supernatural World* for a time when he was younger, so he remembered clearly: that magazine had been forced to rebrand by the Federation back in 2028 and had ceased publication shortly after.
As a writer of supernatural fiction, how could Li Yao not know something like that?