Bai Liu looked at Lu Yizhan. "Tell me exactly what happened last night."
Lu Yizhan closed his eyes, drew deeply on his cigarette, and exhaled. "Around three in the morning, all thirty-seven children brought in began to vomit violently, almost in unison…"
"What they expelled were whole, intact mushrooms. But when these children were first admitted the day before, they had already undergone gastric lavage and induced vomiting. They'd been fasting and on IV fluids all day yesterday—none of them had eaten a thing. There was no way anything should have been in their stomachs."
He paused, flicking ash into the corridor's trash bin. "It terrified the nurses and doctors. They immediately called the police and prepared to draw emergency blood samples from all the children…"
Lu Yizhan exhaled a plume of smoke. "But except for the one surviving child, whenever the nurses tried to draw blood, all they could extract from these endlessly vomiting children was a pale green, semi-translucent liquid—no blood at all. Lab tests showed it was mushroom sap."
Bai Liu was unfazed. Such phenomena, like the antique mirror that could conceal a bomb from security, were to be expected in a 'horror game' instance deployed in this 'reality beta test mode.' In horror games, the impossible was commonplace; extracting mushroom sap instead of blood was, to Bai Liu, a perfectly ordinary development.
After a moment's thought, Bai Liu asked, "What about the surviving child? Her blood was normal, I assume? Did her test results come back?"
"They did. She's mildly anemic, but otherwise normal," Lu Yizhan replied.
Bai Liu pondered, then asked, "Were you able to get any key information from her?"
"No." Lu Yizhan sighed bitterly. "The little girl is blind. She doesn't recognize our voices and refuses to speak to us, only nodding or shaking her head occasionally. And since she can't see, she probably doesn't know much—she didn't even know what she ate that day was mushrooms."
"Her name is Liu Jiayi. She has a half-brother, Liu Huai. She insists on waiting for him before she'll talk. If she were willing, I'd have brought you in to speak with her—you're good at coaxing children."
Bai Liu's expression shifted almost imperceptibly. He slowly looked up at Lu Yizhan. "What did you say her brother's name was?"
Lu Yizhan blinked. "Liu Huai. He's a university student at a top school. He's been supporting her by working odd jobs, but about half a year ago, he suddenly placed her in this orphanage. He visits about once a week, but he's not legally obligated to care for his half-sister. Why, do you know him?"
"We've met," Bai Liu smiled. "We played an online game together. He should remember me—maybe he'll let me talk to his sister."
———
Liu Huai sat stiffly in the hospital room. On the bed, a frail little girl—Liu Jiayi—was curled up, hugging her knees.
But it wasn't his sister's condition that made Liu Huai so tense; it was Bai Liu, sitting across from him, smiling with a gentle, almost affable air.
Liu Huai couldn't fathom how, after leaving the game, he'd had the misfortune to run into Bai Liu, this demon king, in real life. Bai Liu had greeted him with easy familiarity, slinging an arm around his shoulder and asking to speak with his sister.
Liu Huai could only sigh inwardly at his own bad luck, but he still brought Bai Liu in.
Because Liu Jiayi couldn't tolerate crowds—she would scream if too many people were present—Liu Huai refused to let anyone else in. The police waited outside, letting Liu Huai prepare his sister, and he brought Bai Liu in as a "friend."
So now, only Liu Huai, Bai Liu, and Liu Jiayi were in the room.
Bai Liu and Liu Huai sat on either side of the bed. Liu Jiayi, in an oversized hospital gown, sat in the center, her face buried in the hollow between her hands and knees, the fabric hanging loosely from her emaciated frame.
She was, as Lu Yizhan had said, so thin as to seem deformed—a little skeleton, a far cry from the overfed children Bai Liu often saw in fast food restaurants.
Unable to bear the oppressive atmosphere, Liu Huai shielded his sister from Bai Liu's gaze with a blanket, placing himself protectively in front of her.
He glared at Bai Liu like a beast defending its cub. "Bai Liu, what do you want?"
Bai Liu was always direct. "I'm not here for you. I'm here for your sister."
"My sister?!" Liu Huai immediately wrapped Liu Jiayi in the blanket, holding her tightly, his eyes full of hostility. "What do you want with her?"
"Liu Huai, what's the youngest player you've ever seen in the game?" Bai Liu abruptly changed the subject.
Though the room was under police surveillance, Bai Liu knew the system's censorship would likely garble his words, so he asked without hesitation.
"Why do you ask?" Liu Huai frowned.
Bai Liu looked directly at the trembling Liu Jiayi in Liu Huai's arms. "I'm wondering if your sister might become the youngest player in the game."
Liu Jiayi, as the sole survivor of the 'orphanage mushroom poisoning incident,' was much like Bai Liu, who had survived the Mirror City bombing, or Mu Ke, who had escaped the haunted Japanese dormitory—each had narrowly escaped death.
From what Bai Liu knew, players needed to meet two criteria. First: there must be another player in their immediate circle.
The game spread like a virus, from person to person—Mu Ke influenced Bai Liu, Li Gou influenced Xiang Chunhua and Liu Fu.
Liu Jiayi had Liu Huai; she met the first condition.
The second: the player must have survived at least one 'official version' of a horror game.
Liu Jiayi clearly met both.
Bai Liu suspected this little girl, who had escaped death, was likely to become a candidate player.
Liu Huai froze, slowly turning to Bai Liu, disbelief in his eyes as he looked at the still-trembling Liu Jiayi in his arms. He, too, began to tremble. "But she's only eight. How could she be a player? I made sure to visit her only once a week—there's no way my influence alone could draw her into the game…"
"Why not?" Bai Liu replied calmly. "Does the system, like a parent, forbid minors from playing?"
Liu Huai was at a loss for words, instinctively tightening his hold on Liu Jiayi, panic on his face. "But she's blind! In such a brutal environment, she wouldn't survive! The system would never choose her!"
"Then how did she survive the mushroom poisoning?" Bai Liu's tone was unhurried.
A child who alone survived a real-world horror game instance—even blind—was not, in Bai Liu's eyes, a simple child.
Liu Huai was speechless, forced to retort, "Jiayi survived the poisoning by luck! She's not Du Sanying—she can't rely on luck every time!"
At that moment, Liu Jiayi spoke in a faint voice. "No, brother."
Her thin hand tugged at Liu Huai's jacket, her small, tousled head peeking out. Her eyes were clouded, gray as mist, but her voice was soft and clear. "Brother, I didn't get poisoned by luck. I secretly threw away the food the teacher gave me."
Liu Huai was stunned. "Why did you throw away the food?"
Liu Jiayi's parched lips pressed together. She whispered, "Don't be mad, brother. I just felt something was wrong with the teacher that day. She insisted on feeding me herself, when she usually just gave me the bowl. So I pretended to eat, but threw it away when she was serving the others."
Bai Liu spread his hands and smiled. "It seems your sister is much cleverer than you."
"No matter how clever she is, I won't let her enter the game!" Liu Huai was nearly hysterical, eyes red as he glared at Bai Liu. "Bai Liu, whatever you want, you can't have my sister!"
Liu Jiayi, confused, wrapped her arms around Liu Huai's neck. "Brother, what are you talking about? What am I supposed to enter?"
Clearly, the system was censoring Bai Liu and Liu Huai's conversation—Liu Jiayi, not yet a player, could not hear the specifics.
"Liu Huai, I only want to cooperate," Bai Liu said coolly. "If Liu Jiayi is chosen by the game, you won't be able to stop her from entering."
"But I can help you. I can help Liu Jiayi." Bai Liu looked up at Liu Huai, his voice gentle.
Liu Huai sneered. "By 'help,' you mean control us, right? Bai Liu, you're no different from Zhang Kui. I'm grateful for what you've done for me, but I won't let my sister fall into your hands!"
"I don't know what use she is to you, but get out!" Liu Huai's eyes were wild, his posture that of a beast ready to attack.
Bai Liu was silent for a moment, then stood. He did not argue. He truly did want to save Liu Jiayi, but only because he had seen that Lu Yizhan was considering adopting her.
If Lu Yizhan chose this girl as his daughter, Bai Liu would try to keep her alive.
Lu Yizhan always wanted to help others—Bai Liu could see that. He'd always been that way, even as a child in the orphanage, sneaking food to those he thought were hungry, though Bai Liu had never felt deprived.
Bai Liu had never understood Lu Yizhan's compulsion to help, but as a beneficiary of it, he usually indulged his friend's choices—especially since Lu Yizhan always paid him for his trouble.
That was why they remained friends.
Bai Liu tore a slip of paper, wrote his number, and placed it by Liu Jiayi's bed. "I can help Liu Jiayi survive her first game, but only if she sells me her soul. Only then can I ensure she survives."
Only with her soul could Bai Liu manipulate her panel.
Liu Huai tore up the paper, ready to throw it in Bai Liu's face. "I won't allow it!"
"When you left her at the orphanage, you relinquished guardianship. You're not her legal guardian," Bai Liu said, gaze calm. "So I don't think you have the right to decide for her."
His words utterly enraged Liu Huai, whose eyes turned bloodshot with fury, but who only laughed bitterly. "Bai Liu, do you know why I entered the game?"
"I wanted her to see the light." Liu Huai took a deep breath, turning away. "Leave. I won't entrust her to someone like you. Her future would be nothing but darkness."
His eyes reddened as he looked away. "I've had enough of being controlled. Her life will never be controlled by you."
"When I was forced by Zhang Kui to betray Fourth Brother… in that moment, I lost my best friend and my closest teammate. It wasn't just Fourth Brother—Mu Sicheng, too. Being forced to wield the knife, to become the one who hurts, is agony… I won't let her end up like me."
Bai Liu was quiet for a moment. "Controlling a little girl brings me no benefit. My only reason for doing this is that my best friend wants to save your sister."
Liu Huai turned to Bai Liu in astonishment.
Liu Jiayi, bewildered, turned her head, her misty eyes lending her fragile face a strange vulnerability. Held in Liu Huai's arms, she was like a pale gray butterfly, her antennae bound, nuzzling his chin as if to soothe his turmoil.
Under Liu Huai's uncertain gaze, Bai Liu said nothing more, but turned and quietly left the room.
Lu Yizhan was waiting at the stairwell, still smoking, a pile of cigarette butts on the trash can beside him.
When he saw Bai Liu, his eyes lit up. "Well? Any leads?"
But when he saw Bai Liu's expression, he hesitated.
Bai Liu, when in a neutral or good mood, always wore a faint smile, his emotions well hidden. When his feelings ran deep, his face became even more subdued, a heavy, repressed look settling in his eyes—a sign he was grappling with something he could not quite resolve.
In short, Bai Liu was not in a good mood.
"What's wrong?" Lu Yizhan instinctively lowered his voice. "Did someone insult you? I heard Liu Huai shouting in the room. Did you offend him? The surveillance didn't pick up anything, but some victims' families can be emotional. Don't take it to heart."
"Sometimes, I just can't understand human emotional logic," Bai Liu murmured, his gaze unfocused—a sign he was still deep in thought.
"It's strange," he muttered. "I can't comprehend some of Liu Huai's logic. He's essentially selfish, yet for his sister—despite having no legal obligation—he'll go to such lengths."
Bai Liu didn't doubt Liu Huai's sincerity. Instinctive reactions don't lie. Liu Huai was clearly afraid of him, yet he never let go of Liu Jiayi, always shielding her.
But Bai Liu soon recovered.
He glanced at Lu Yizhan. "It's not the first time I've encountered this kind of self-sacrifice. Let's hurry to the orphanage."
———
Bai Liu entered the orphanage with Mu Ke.
Mu Ke had been waiting outside Bai Liu's door since early morning, but Bai Liu had been called away by Lu Yizhan even earlier. Fortunately, Bai Liu returned home briefly and found Mu Ke, knees hugged to his chest, waiting anxiously at the door.
The boy hadn't dared knock, thinking Bai Liu was still asleep, nor had he called—he simply waited, wide-eyed, at the threshold.
Mu Ke's father, a wealthy businessman Bai Liu often saw on TV, had brought him. The man, believing Bai Liu to be his son's savior, waited quietly with Mu Ke, not daring to disturb Bai Liu's rest.
Bai Liu returned to find father and son whispering outside his door, afraid to speak too loudly.
Whatever Mu Ke had told his family, his father was utterly convinced Bai Liu was a miracle worker, and, believing the two-month trip was for treatment, thanked Bai Liu profusely for saving his son.
Upon learning Bai Liu was visiting the orphanage, the magnate was so moved he decided to donate, and personally drove Bai Liu and Mu Ke there in a Maybach worth over ten million.
At the orphanage, Mu Ke stuck close to Bai Liu, glancing at him furtively, yawning like a cat desperate for affection but not yet permitted to draw near.
Sensing Mu Ke's anxiety—harmful for entering the game—Bai Liu allowed him to stay close.
He greeted Lu Yizhan, explaining he and his friend Mu Ke were there to look around.
Lu Yizhan went in with his colleagues to investigate.
Because Mu Ke's father had impulsively pledged a donation, Bai Liu and Mu Ke were shown around by the orphanage director herself.
The director was an elderly woman, her face mottled with age spots that reminded Bai Liu of livor mortis. Her eyes were clouded, her back hunched, and she exuded a faint, fungal odor. When she looked at people, it was as if she were appraising merchandise, which made Bai Liu uneasy.
Mu Ke's father went off with the director to discuss the donation, while a teacher led Bai Liu and Mu Ke on a tour.
The orphanage was dilapidated, built in the style of a decade ago. Three low buildings formed a triangle, their walls crumbling to reveal mossy brickwork. In the courtyard, rusted playground equipment—swings, seesaws, a faded merry-go-round—stood forlornly amid weeds and mud.
The equipment was ancient, swaying in the wind. The seesaw dipped, the empty swing arced higher and higher, creaking as if something unseen were playing.
The teacher's face was pale; she hurried them along, head down, toward the outermost building. Bai Liu glanced up and saw two faded gold plaques: "National Top Ten Orphanages" and "National Model Unit for Juvenile Protection."
The award dates were over a decade old, from the orphanage's early days.
The teacher spoke in a low voice, "We're an old institution, originally covering 25 acres, with nearly 10,000 square meters of buildings, specialized classrooms for disabled children, music rooms, an infirmary, over 300 beds, and more than 200 caregivers…"
Bai Liu raised an eyebrow. "25 acres, 10,000 square meters? 200 caregivers?"
He hadn't seen a single caregiver since entering—clearly, there were hardly any left.
The teacher faltered, her words trailing off. "That was when we first opened. Later, we had to give up some space, and as funding dried up, we let most of the staff go."
"We had 46 children left. For Children's Day this year, we even put on a show for our benefactors. But after ten years, they said they couldn't keep funding us, and now we can't find new sponsors…"
Bai Liu's tone was unhurried. "You had 46 children, 37 are in the hospital. Where are the other nine? Can we meet them?"
The teacher's face went even paler. She twisted her fingers, silent, clearly unwilling to let the children be seen.
Something was wrong. Bai Liu narrowed his eyes.
He exchanged a glance with Mu Ke, who immediately understood. The young master coughed, stepped forward, and said haughtily, "We're considering a ten-million-yuan donation. We'd like to meet the children who are still here. That's not too much to ask, is it?"
The sum clearly shook the teacher. Her lips and eyes trembled. After a long pause, she turned to Bai Liu and Mu Ke. "You really want to donate? Ten million?"
Mu Ke, as if it were nothing, nodded.
The teacher took a deep breath and whispered, "There aren't nine children left—only five."
"And the other four?" Bai Liu frowned.
Terror flickered in the teacher's eyes. She lowered her head and whispered, "Four children disappeared last night. They snuck out to play on the swings and seesaw, but as they played, they vanished. The swings and seesaw kept moving all night…"
A sudden gust of wind swept through, setting the playground equipment in motion. The temperature dropped, the seesaw rocked faster, the swing soared higher.
Then, abruptly, both the swing and seesaw stopped. The swing hung motionless in the wind, the seesaw suspended as if perfectly balanced.
It was as if something had just leapt off, standing beside the equipment, watching the adults.
Moments later, the seesaw slowly tipped left, unnaturally slow, and something tumbled off—Bai Liu saw it was a doll with its head twisted off.
The thing that rolled down was the doll's head.
The doll, dressed in a white shirt and black trousers, its limbs and head all twisted off, wore a strange smile and a cheap coin necklace on its chest.
It was a doll dressed exactly like Bai Liu.