Cheng Liye’s wrist was suddenly seized by a powerful grip and shoved aside with force. He steadied himself and looked at the intruder—it was the student in the windbreaker.
Shen Zhilin’s expression darkened, her gaze cold and unfriendly as she stared Cheng Liye down. She stepped firmly in front of Sheng Mian, shielding her from his sight. Without Cheng Liye’s hold to steady her, Sheng Mian felt lightheaded and stumbled; Yi Chi quickly moved to support her.
“Bullying people with pheromones is going a bit too far, don’t you think?” Shen Zhilin said, her voice icy.
Cheng Liye shook his head in frustration. He hadn’t meant to lose control like that; he had simply wanted to use his pheromones to see Sheng Mian’s eyes soften, hoping she would fall obediently into his arms as she once might have.
“Sorry, I lost my grip for a second,” Cheng Liye apologized bluntly. He pulled an envelope from his pocket, stepped forward, and shoved it into Sheng Mian’s hand. “Read this, and you’ll understand exactly what our relationship is.”
The suggestive envelope and the cryptic words sent a jolt of panic through Sheng Mian. She instinctively glanced at Shen Zhilin, feeling a sudden, inexplicable pang of guilt. She gripped the envelope tight and stuffed it haphazardly into her pocket.
Cheng Liye turned and walked away. Mao Jing, clutching the ingredients they had found earlier, followed behind him, huffing and puffing under the weight of several bags.
Silence returned to the clearing, though it was now thick with an eerie tension. “Are you alright?” Shen Zhilin asked softly.
Seeing that Zhilin didn’t seem to be acting differently, Sheng Mian relaxed. She shook her head. “I’m fine.” Then, she added lamely, “The envelope is probably just him paying me back some money, haha.” The over-explanation only made the atmosphere more awkward.
Yi Chi broke the ice: “We should head back. It’s almost time.”
On the way back, Sheng Mian desperately wanted to talk to Shen Zhilin, but the words wouldn’t come. The envelope in her pocket felt like a hot coal, burning with a secret she didn’t yet know. She couldn’t understand why she was so worried about Zhilin being angry, especially since Zhilin remained her usual stoic self. The lack of a reaction actually made Sheng Mian feel more dejected.
The chef made the most of their haul, preparing a massive spread. Sheng Mian ate several helpings of the wild greens, feeling a nostalgic connection to her childhood.
However, it wasn’t her imagination—Shen Zhilin had become even more silent, radiating a cold aura like a block of ice. Sheng Mian placed a portion of wild greens on Zhilin’s plate and recommended softly, “Try this. It’s really good.”
Zhilin glanced at Sheng Mian, who was sitting beside her with an unusually docile demeanor. She took a bite and nodded. “The taste is a bit unique, but it’s not bad.”
Free time lasted until 4:00 PM. Most students chose to nap after the meal, and Sheng Mian’s group felt the fatigue setting in as well.
Sheng Mian sprawled out on her bed, her back aching slightly from the morning’s activities. As she lay down, she let out a long, satisfied sigh. She pulled out the envelope Cheng Liye had given her. Her hands trembled slightly, and she held her breath as she opened the letter that felt like a Pandora’s box.
The content wasn’t long. It was a love letter—every word sincere, every sentence brimming with deep affection. No wonder Cheng Liye’s reactions were so strange, like someone who had been betrayed or abandoned. Her former self had truly loved him.
Sheng Mian felt a wave of gloom. It would have been easier if Cheng Liye didn’t care, but based on his reaction, this wasn’t going to be an easy situation to resolve. She quickly folded the letter and tucked it away.
Cheng Liye was tall, roguish, and free-spirited—the exact type that was popular in school. He had sharp, aggressive features, and Sheng Mian couldn’t deny he was handsome. But, in her mind, he still didn’t compare to Shen Zhilin.
Her thoughts drifted naturally from Cheng Liye to Shen Zhilin, comparing the two. Zhilin was calm, reserved, and reliable—infinitely better than the arrogant, pampered Cheng Liye. As the post-lunch lethargy took over, Sheng Mian’s eyelids grew heavy. Her final thought before drifting off was: Shen Zhilin is definitely better.
Afternoons always lead to deep sleep. Sheng Mian was eventually awoken by a rhythmic knocking that sounded both far away and right next to her ear.
“Yi Chi, Sheng Mian, are you two awake? Stop sleeping!” Qin Heng was pounding on the door.
Sheng Mian sat up, her mind still foggy and dazed, while Yi Chi went to open the door. Qin Heng was leaning against the frame, looking refreshed. “Let’s go! Let’s walk around and take some photos.” Shen Zhilin stood behind him, silent and maintaining her distance.
“You’re a guy and you like taking photos?” Sheng Mian teased, now fully awake.
Qin Heng didn’t see what gender had to do with it. Seeing his confused expression, Yi Chi explained, “Sheng Mian probably means that Alphas are usually too impatient for photography.”
“Right, exactly,” Sheng Mian added.
Qin Heng curled his lip. “Psh, that’s just a prejudice. I’m going to photograph the scenery, not take selfies.”
The mountain air was pure and crisp. Sheng Mian took a deep breath and stretched. The afternoon sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm yellow glow over the maple forest. It looked like a fairytale world.
Sheng Mian couldn’t stop taking photos—mostly selfies and shots with Yi Chi. Qin Heng was busy snapping pictures of everything in sight, completely unaware that Sheng Mian had caught several unflattering “candid” shots of him. She and Yi Chi giggled quietly as they looked through the photos of him.
Then, Sheng Mian turned her gaze to find Shen Zhilin. She saw her leaning against a gnarled maple tree, looking down at something with intense focus.
Following her gaze, Sheng Mian spotted a few tiny insects in the distance, but her eyes quickly drifted back to Shen Zhilin.
Zhilin’s black windbreaker and cargo pants accentuated her tall, lithe frame, making her look both imposing and elegant. Her loose black hair fluttered in the breeze, revealing a pale, handsome profile. As her long, thick lashes blinked slowly, the scene felt frozen in Sheng Mian’s mind—a perfect tableau she couldn’t bring herself to look away from.
Sheng Mian snapped several photos in quick succession. Sensing the attention, Zhilin turned her clear, untainted gaze toward her, striking a chord in Sheng Mian’s heart that she couldn’t quite define.
Sheng Mian stepped forward to show her the results. Zhilin looked down; in the photos, she seemed to blend naturally into her surroundings, the lighting hitting her features just right.
“You’re a great photographer,” Zhilin praised.
Sheng Mian didn’t want to take all the credit. “It’s because you’re a great subject. If it were anyone else standing there, it wouldn’t look like this.”
She looked up at Zhilin and met her smiling eyes. In that moment, the world seemed to fall silent, and even the rustle of the wind vanished. Sheng Mian could see her own reflection in Zhilin’s eyes. She watched the subtle movement of Zhilin’s throat as she swallowed—a sound that seemed incredibly loud in the silence. Their breathing intermingled, and Sheng Mian instinctively took a deeper breath, trying to catch that faint, cold scent again.
Just as she felt she was about to capture that crisp, elusive fragrance, they were interrupted.
“Let’s get a group photo!” Qin Heng’s voice boomed.
The two snapped out of their trance, walking toward the others with stiff, synchronized steps. Sheng Mian and Yi Chi leaned forward in the front, flashing peace signs, while Qin Heng held the phone up with Zhilin standing behind them.
Against a backdrop of falling maple leaves, the moment was immortalized in a single shot.
When the activity ended, the forty students gathered in the lobby for the next event. Teacher An and the Class 8 homeroom teacher conducted a head count before Teacher An posted a lottery link in the WeChat group.
“We’re dividing into two groups for this game. The content is the same for both. Check your results; Group 1 follows me upstairs, and Group 2 goes with Teacher Qi.”
“I got Group 1. What about you guys?” Sheng Mian asked. Luckily, all four of them had drawn the same group.
As the twenty students followed Teacher An to the hotel’s gaming lounge, Sheng Mian glanced back to see how many of her own classmates were in the group. Her eyes landed on Cheng Liye, who was trailing lazily at the back of the pack with Mao Jing.
Catching her gaze, Cheng Liye arched an eyebrow and stared at her intently, his eyes filled with a mix of impatience and confusion. He had been waiting all afternoon for Sheng Mian to confront him about that letter, but she hadn’t come.
The gaming lounge was massive, decorated with cyberpunk neon lines running across the walls. In the center sat four sofas arranged in a square. Each sofa had five seats with high armrests designed to shield each player’s view of their neighbor’s screen.
“Take a seat anywhere,” Teacher An instructed. “These are the latest VR units. The experience is very immersive, so be careful not to break the equipment.”
Sheng Mian sank into the sofa, the high armrests cutting off her line of sight to the people beside her. An all-in-one VR headset and controllers sat on a stand in front of her.
Everyone donned their gear and started the devices. Blood-red characters immediately appeared: VAMPIRE CARDS. The background featured the skeletal, withered fingers of a vampire clutching the title. On either side stood armored knights with unsheathed swords, while behind them cowered a mob of pale, wide-eyed commoners. At the very top hovered a faceless deity with closed eyes, shrouded in a faint golden glow.
“Here is a quick breakdown,” Teacher An’s voice explained through the audio. “There are three factions: Vampires, Knights, and Commoners. There is also a special identity—the Deity. The Deity is hidden among the Knights or Commoners and does not initially know their own identity; their card will only show their base role.”
“There are 2 Vampires, 2 Knights, and 16 Commoners—one of whom is the Deity. Vampires can kill or ‘turn’ Commoners, while Knights can fight Vampires. Victory in combat depends on combat stats. The Deity’s blood can kill a
Vampire. Commoners start with a Defense card; if they survive a Vampire encounter, they earn an Attack card. You can explore rooms to find utility cards, but be careful—if you stumble into a Vampire’s lair, the Vampire will appear instantly to kill the intruder.”
“The Vampire faction wins by killing or turning everyone else. The Knights and Commoners win by killing the Vampires. You can explore the mechanics as you go. Everyone, begin your draw.”
The haunting, oppressive music heightened the tension. Sheng Mian clicked ‘Start.’ She hoped for a Knight to ensure her safety, but as the icons flashed across the screen, it finally settled on: COMMONER.
Sheng Mian deflated. Great, an unarmed commoner. Beside her, an automated Defense card was drawn: ‘One, Two, Three, Freeze’—Stuns the target for 5 seconds. Uses: 3.
Elsewhere in the room, Qin Heng let out a heavy sigh and a quiet curse. His screen showed a plain Commoner identity. If he couldn’t be a Vampire, he at least wanted to be a Knight. He pulled himself together, determined to pull off a perfect “Commoner clutch.”