Zhou Yuxuan had been violently uprooted from a life of monotonous struggle and dropped directly into a world teetering precariously on the absolute edge of extinction.
His transportation medium—a derelict, forgotten public toilet—defied every known law of physics, but Yuxuan’s exceptional intellect quickly overrode his initial disbelief.
At twenty years old, he possessed not only sharp, highly analytical instincts but also a quiet, cold resilience that kept him steady while any normal person would have entirely broken down.
The metropolis into which he had transitioned was a sprawling, top-tier steampunk world.
Massive brass pipes hummed with pressurized energy beneath cobblestone streets, and the heavy scent of burning coal blended with the damp autumn air.
Yet, this world was dying, suffocated by an unyielding boundary of supernatural fog.
Through a sequence of macabre events, Yuxuan had formed an uneasy alliance with a local resident named Ronald Denbergh.
But trust was a luxury Yuxuan could no longer afford.
The very first person to offer him a meal in this twisted realm had turned out to be a cannibalistic monster masquerading as a kindly elder.
Having narrowly escaped becoming a corpse on a dining plate, Yuxuan took a calculated step to shield himself: he fabricated a completely new identity, adopting the alias “Lie Longterm.”
Though he had openly admitted to Ronald that he arrived in this city through a mysterious bathroom portal, a critical detail kept Yuxuan’s internal alarm bells ringing.
Ronald hadn’t acted surprised.
He hadn’t asked when, where, or how—the immediate, logical questions any normal human being would ask an alien traveler.
Ronald simply accepted it.
This lack of curiosity was unnatural, signaling to Yuxuan that interdimensional anomalies, or things far worse, might be a common reality in this city.
As they walked, Yuxuan quietly observed the urban landscape.
The architecture heavily mirrored an old European style, an intricate imitation of Western history cast in dark stone, weathered copper, and iron grating.
The moving crowds looked entirely Western as well, navigating a dense street market that snaked between towering structures.
The air here was a suffocating sensory overload: the intense hiss of overhead steam valves, the shouting of merchants, and the rich, lingering aroma of foreign street foods being sold under the dim, purple-blue light of the sky.
The streets were illuminated by flickering gas-powered lamps and glowing electrical coils.
Horse-drawn carts rattled across the paved roads, sharing the lanes with rare, ancient European-style automobiles that puffed plumes of white exhaust.
The wooden pavements were completely jam-packed with pedestrians, forcing Ronald and Yuxuan to navigate the dense crowd at a slow, deliberate crawl.
“Wow!
These look incredible!” Ronald suddenly blurted out, breaking the heavy silence.
He stopped abruptly in front of a warm, aromatic bakery counter specializing in freshly baked croissants.
Yuxuan paused beside him, his eyes scanning the shopfront and the surrounding crowd, keeping his protective posture intact.
“Welcome, sir!
My croissants are famous throughout the lower sectors of this city,” called out the shopkeeper, an old man with deeply wrinkled, weathered skin.
He stood inside a cramped stall built into the base of a decaying, two-story stone building.
“A special offer is currently running.
A five percent discount, exclusive only to the top ten rankers of the Watch Gaming matches.”
Ronald smiled, the polished metal of his steel watch catching the bakery’s light.
“What is the cost, Mr.
Pincher?”
“Only fifty Dolemn for two,” the old man replied warmly.
Ronald reached into the deep pocket of his long red coat, pulled out a leather pouch, and casually counted out three crisp paper notes, handing them over to the baker.
Mr.
Pincher paused, checking the notes.
“But sir, this is seventy-five Dolemn.”
“Keep the change,” Ronald said, gesturing lightly behind him.
“Because I have a guest tonight—this boy right here.”
Mr.
Pincher’s gaze shifted, locking onto Yuxuan.
The baker stared intently for five long, agonizing seconds, evaluating Yuxuan’s blood-stained shirt, sharp features, and completely unreadable expression.
Finally, a small, knowing smile creased the old man’s face.
“Wow.
He is exceptionally handsome.
Who is he, Ronald?”
“He’s Lie Longterm,” Ronald answered smoothly.
Mr.
Pincher leaned over the wooden counter, his hand gesturing for Ronald to come closer.
Sensing the shift in tone, Yuxuan watched their movements with hyper-focused precision.
The old baker brought his mouth right to Ronald’s ear, whispering in a low, raspy tone that barely carried over the street noise: “Is he single?”
Ronald chuckled softly, glancing back at Yuxuan.
“Maybe.”
Suddenly, Mr.
Pincher’s eyes sparked with a bizarre, intense excitement.
He turned toward the door of the attached house and shouted into the stairwell, “Luna, dear, come down here immediately!”
“Coming, Dad!” a sweet, melodic female voice echoed from the upper floor.
A moment later, a young girl stepped through the inner gate of the shop.
She wore an elegant, flowing gown that seemed far too pristine for the gritty market district.
Her soft, golden hair was tied back into a neat ponytail, and her striking, brilliant blue eyes scanned the room before settling on the visitors.
“What is it, Dad?” Luna asked, tilting her head.
“This is Ronald’s friend, Lie Longterm,” the baker said, proudly gesturing to Yuxuan before turning back to his daughter.
“And Lie, this is my twenty-year-old daughter, Luna—Luna Pincher.
What’s your age, Mr.
Longterm?”
“Twenty,” Yuxuan stated instantly, his voice flat and devoid of hesitation.
“Wow!
Perfect!” Mr.
Pincher clapped his hands together in a chorus of absolute delight.
Luna blinked, looking confused.
“What’s perfect, Dad?”
“Luna!
He is the absolute perfect match for you!” the old man declared without a shred of shame.
“He’s incredibly handsome, and he’s a close friend of a top-ranking Watch Gamer!
What more could a girl possibly need from a husband?”
Luna’s face flushed an immediate, deep crimson.
“What?!
Oh, Dad!
I’ve told you a hundred times—”
Her voice cut off mid-sentence as her eyes fully locked onto Yuxuan.
She froze, her mouth parting slightly as she took in his symmetrical, unbothered features and his cold, detached demeanor.
The anger evaporated from her eyes, replaced by a sudden, nervous paralysis.
Seeing his daughter’s sudden silence, Mr.
Pincher let out a dry laugh.
“Heh.
Heh.
You like him, don’t you?”
Startled out of her daze, Luna frantically tried to hide her face, stepping backward into the shadows of the doorway.
“Oh!
Actually…
um…
yes, he is handsome.
But!
I’ve already told you, Dad, I am absolutely not getting married right now!”
Before the old baker could press his daughter any further, Ronald stepped forward, subtly cutting off the conversation.
“Our apologies, Mr.
Pincher, but we really must be going.
Time is running short.”
“Oh, right, right!
Sorry for wasting your time!” the old man said quickly.
He hurriedly packed three warm croissants into a paper bag and handed them over to Ronald.
“Goodbye,” Ronald said, turning on his heel.
Yuxuan followed immediately, his eyes scanning the rooftops as they exited the stall.
Behind them, Mr.
Pincher waved his hand enthusiastically, calling out into the damp evening air, “Come again!
Bring Mr.
Longterm with you next time!”
“Yeah, will do,” Ronald muttered back as they broke away from the market crowd.
Once they were out of earshot, he turned to Yuxuan with a look of genuine embarrassment.
“Sorry about that, Lie.
Mr.
Pincher is a genuinely good man, but he’s completely obsessed with finding a proper boy to marry his daughter.”
“Don’t worry about it.
It’s fine,” Yuxuan replied normally, his voice a steady, unchanging drone.
Inwardly, however, Yuxuan’s mind was working at maximum capacity, breaking down the interaction into variables.Hmm…
Ronald doesn’t seem to be a bad person.
But why hasn’t he asked me a single question about my reality?
Why doesn’t he care where I came from?
Yuxuan calculated the risks.
It didn’t truly matter for now.
He could exploit Ronald’s lack of curiosity to trust him temporarily, using him as a shield while he gathered data.
Hmph…
all I want is to find a way back to my previous, boring, poverty-stricken life.
But how?
I don’t know.
For now, I have to play along with the rules of this world to discover why I was transmitted here, and how to trigger the reverse process.
After a few more minutes of walking through increasingly quiet sectors, they arrived in front of a well-maintained, structurally sound two-story house.
Though the massive black hole hanging in the sky cast a dull, unsettling purple-blue twilight over the city, the bright gas lanterns lining this particular street made the house’s features perfectly clear.
It was solid, built of dark brick, with heavy iron reinforcements around the windows.
“This is my home.
Let’s go inside,” Ronald said, leading the way to a sturdy side door.
He pushed the door open and stepped into the dim entryway, with Yuxuan following closely behind.
“Whoa!!” Ronald suddenly gasped, his entire body flinching violently backward in pure, instinctual shock.
Yuxuan didn’t flinch.
His natural defense mechanism—the absolute suppression of fear and jump-scares—kept him perfectly still, his eyes narrowing as he instantly assessed the threat in the room.
When Ronald’s eyes finally adjusted, he let out a long, ragged breath, his shoulders dropping.
“Oh…
Mom.”
Standing perfectly still in the center of the dim room was a woman.
She appeared to be around forty-two years old, with long, loose red hair that cascaded over her shoulders, identical in color to Ronald’s.
She was dressed in a silky, deep purple nightdress, and a warm, elegant smile stretched across her face.
Seeing her son’s dramatic reaction from such a close distance seemed to amuse her deeply.
“Sorry to disturb you, ma’am,” Yuxuan said, bowing his head slightly in a formal, respectful greeting.
Before he could straighten up, a swift, surprisingly solid slap landed directly on his back.
“Oh, dear, don’t be so formal!” Ronald’s mom laughed heartily, her hand still resting on his shoulder.
“You’re my son’s friend, right?”
Yuxuan stood up straight, his face a flawless mask of politeness.
“I’m Lie Longterm.”
“Oh, Lie!
What a fascinating name!
And your surname…
‘Longterm’ has quite an awesome ring to it!” she cheered smoothly.
Ronald stepped between them, holding up the paper bakery bag.
“Enough, Mom.
Hold it.
I brought back some croissants from Mr.
Pincher’s shop.”
“Wow!
Wonderful,” she said, quickly taking the bag from his hands.
Her expression then turned maternal as she looked over Yuxuan’s stained clothes.
“Go on, then.
Go upstairs and change out of those dirty clothes, and give Lie something clean to wear.
We’ll talk properly over dinner.”
“Of course, Mom,” Ronald agreed.
Following Ronald up a set of creaking wooden stairs, Yuxuan noted the layout of the second floor.
There were three distinct rooms: a guest room at the end of the hall, Ronald’s mother’s room in the middle, and Ronald’s personal bedroom at the top of the stairs.
“Come in, this is my room.
It’s a bit messy, so don’t mind the look of it,” Ronald said, scratching the back of his head nervously as he pushed the door open.
Yuxuan stepped inside, his analytical gaze immediately cataloging the contents of the space.
The room was sparse, containing only essential items: a sturdy wooden study table paired with a single chair, a heavy bookshelf packed to the brim with thick, technical volumes, a wardrobe, and a simple bed with crisp white sheets.
A soft blue mat covered a portion of the wooden floor, and the entire space was illuminated by a warm yellow glow originating from an electric lamp mounted on the concrete wall.
As Yuxuan walked past the study table, a specific object caught his eye.
Resting in a dark wooden frame was a photograph.
It depicted a younger Ronald, his mother, and a stern-faced man with short brown hair.
All three of them were smiling warmly toward the camera in front of this very house.
So that’s Ronald’s dad, Yuxuan inferred silently, noting the man’s absence in the house.
Ronald pulled open the heavy wooden doors of his wardrobe, rummaged through the shelves, and handed Yuxuan a folded set of clothes—a plain white shirt and a pair of sturdy black trousers.
“Wear this for tonight.”
“Hmph.” Yuxuan nodded, taking the fabric.
“Alright, I’ll show you to the guest room.
It’s set up exactly like mine, nice and simple,” Ronald said, leading him back out into the hallway.
“I’ll leave you to it.
See you downstairs.” With a quick wave, Ronald turned and retreated back into his own room, clicking the door shut behind him.
Left alone, Yuxuan entered the guest room and quickly changed.
The fresh white shirt and dark green trousers fit him remarkably well.
He discarded his blood-stained shirt, feeling an immediate sense of physical relief.
He had always despised wearing dirty, uncomfortable clothing for extended periods; staying in those bloody rags would have severely hindered his ability to think clearly.
Once finished, Yuxuan stepped out of the guest room and made his way back down the stairs.
The main hall at the bottom separated into two distinct pathways.
To the right of the staircase lay the dining hall, which connected directly to the kitchen.
To the left was a spacious drawing room furnished with a large armchair and two single-seater sofas arranged neatly around a low glass coffee table.
As his boots clicked softly against the bottom step, Yuxuan reflected on the bizarre sequence of events that had transpired since he used that strange bathroom stall.
The incident with the toilet…
standard logic dictates I should hate toilets now.
If this happened to anyone else, they would probably develop a psychological phobia of restrooms for the rest of their life.
A faint, cynical smile flickered at the edge of his mouth.But why should I hate an inanimate object?
If something terrible happens because of one individual’s actions, it’s illogical to project that hatred onto everything associated with it.
He turned toward the dining hall, but as he drew closer, a strange, suffocating stillness gridlocked the air.
Something was fundamentally wrong.
Neither Ronald nor his mother had uttered a single sound since he started descending the stairs.
The absolute silence was unnatural.
Yuxuan silently glided toward the entrance of the dining room.
Ronald and his mother were sitting rigidly in their respective chairs near the long table.
They were completely motionless, staring blankly ahead, their faces cast in deep shadow.
As Yuxuan took one more step into the light, their heads snapped toward him in perfect, terrifying unison.
Ronald’s eyes were wide, veins bulging against his skin, his face twisted into a mask of pure, demonic malice.
He opened his mouth, his voice dropping into a guttural, terrifyingly dark register that echoed horribly off the walls:
“We hate Lie.
We hate Lie.
Die, Lie!
Die!
Die!
Die!
Kill him!
Kill Lie!!”
I’LL END THE STORY AFTER 2000+ CHAPTERS.