Sensing Liu Jiayi's unease, Liu Huai forced himself to steady his voice. He embraced her gently, patting her back in a feigned calm. "No, Jiayi, you've done nothing wrong. It's only a game, nothing more."
"Yes, just a game." Liu Huai closed his eyes, as if hypnotizing himself as much as her. When he opened them again, his tone was much softer. "Let your brother accompany you through this, Jiayi."
Nestled in Liu Huai's arms, Liu Jiayi clutched the hem of his shirt and asked in a small voice, "What kind of game is it, brother?"
Liu Huai hesitated, his mind conjuring images of Bai Liu, who sought to control Liu Jiayi's soul, and Miao Feichi, who relished the flesh of children. At last, he held her tighter and managed a bitter smile. "It's a game where, apart from you and me, everyone else is a villain. Jiayi, you must stay close to me and never wander off, do you understand?"
"I won't," Liu Jiayi promised obediently. "I'll stay with you."
Meanwhile, the audience before the multiplayer zone whispered among themselves, astonished to witness a newcomer bypass the solo novice area and be drawn directly into a multiplayer game. Yet, as the core of this game is human desire, if the little girl's wish to see her brother was strong enough, the system might well have pulled her straight into Liu Huai's game.
Her small TV should have appeared in the "Novice Zone," but now she was in the multiplayer area. Normally, her TV would log in there, but there had never been a precedent for a TV logging into multiple zones. Perhaps for this reason, the system simply shut her TV off.
But to begin with a level-two game—no matter how fiercely Liu Huai protected her, the odds were grim. Even Liu Huai could barely fend for himself in such a game; only Miao Feichi and Miao Gaojiang, the professional players, might have the strength to spare. They were already wary of Bai Liu's abilities and unlikely to fall under his control.
Thus, it seemed unlikely that Bai Liu would find any powerful player to shield him this time, leaving him little room to maneuver.
A spectator with some sympathy for Bai Liu sighed, "Let's just hope Mu Sicheng can work well with him this time—perhaps there's still a sliver of hope."
Others, eager to see a downfall, sneered, "Mu Sicheng is a godlike support, but Bai Liu is hopeless as a main DPS. The carrion zombie's output is Miao Feichi, an S-rank player. How can you compare a grade-schooler to a graduate student?"
But soon, a viewer, scanning all the small TVs, exclaimed in confusion, "Wait, among the five live feeds, Mu Sicheng isn't there!"
"Did Bai Liu enter the game alone?!"
Once it was confirmed that Mu Sicheng was not among the players, both Bai Liu's anxious fans and the idle onlookers, as well as his detractors, were left speechless.
After a few stunned seconds, the entire crowd, regardless of their stance, uttered the same expletive: "Shit!!!!"
————————
Bai Liu found himself in a dimly lit room on the second floor of the orphanage. The door was locked, but he broke it open and began searching the rooms, mapping out the area. Yet, his disregard for the game's intended progression soon brought retribution: after circling the entire floor, he found himself back where he started.
He was trapped in a looping corridor, or perhaps the game was forcing him to complete a certain plot before he could leave.
Bai Liu re-entered the room where he had first arrived.
The gloomy, cold room contained a single small stool. The evening light cast a long shadow across the floor, while other stools were haphazardly stacked along the walls, as if this were a classroom during the holidays, with all the furniture put away. The lone stool in the center seemed especially conspicuous.
On the teacher's podium sat an old-fashioned radio, a model from a decade ago. A cassette played within, its sound crackling and uneven, and a little girl's voice sang a nursery rhyme:
"Born on Monday,
Baptized on Tuesday,
Married on Wednesday,
Fell ill on Thursday,
Grew worse on Friday,
Died on Saturday,
Buried on Sunday—
This is the whole of Bai Liu's life—"
Bai Liu raised an eyebrow. He recognized it at once: a famous dark nursery rhyme from "Mother Goose," called "Solomon Grundy," which recounts a life's tragic arc. The final line should have been, "This is the life of Solomon Grundy," but here, the name had been replaced with his own.
As the rhyme repeated, a shadow gradually appeared on the stool, as if someone were sitting there. Yet, from the side, the chair was empty—nothing but a vacant seat.
Suddenly, the shadow rose from the stool and darted toward Bai Liu. He did not flinch, sensing this was an introductory cutscene, much like the previous game. He watched as his own shadow was swallowed by the swiftly approaching one.
His shadow stretched longer and longer in the setting sun, slipping beneath the door and out into the hallway, only to be abruptly severed outside.
At that moment, the nursery rhyme ceased, and a knock sounded at the door.
"Hello, are you the benefactor of this orphanage?" a boy's voice inquired politely, tinged with the hoarseness of adolescence. "I'm a new child reporting in today."
Yet Bai Liu detected a chill and impatience beneath the courteous tone.
He knew this voice—perhaps not "knew," but was intimately familiar with it. In the instant the other spoke, he could sense every emotion beneath the calm surface.
After all, ten years ago, Bai Liu had lived with this voice every day.
Standing atop his own elongated shadow, Bai Liu slowly opened the door.
"Hello, I'm the new sponsored child." Before him stood a boy whose head barely reached Bai Liu's chest, his black eyes deep and inscrutable, scrutinizing Bai Liu in return. At last, he extended his hand with careful politeness. "Hello, benefactor. My name is Bai Liu—Bai Liu the Sixth. I was notified to move into this private orphanage."
"Let me see… in this state, I must be about fourteen," Bai Liu mused, scanning the preternaturally calm boy before him.
[System prompt: Player Bai Liu has successfully met and conversed with his secondary identity line, triggering the child identity. Player Bai Liu has entered dual-line operation mode.]
[System prompt: In "Loving Welfare Home," players possess two identity lines: one as your adult self, the other as your childhood self. The adult is your primary identity; the child, your secondary. They are two halves of the same soul. The secondary identity is a child NPC generated by the game, with memories and settings adjusted to fit the background, closely resembling your childhood self in temperament and memory. Please explore and interact to discover more.]
[Player Bai Liu's secondary identity: Bai Liu the Sixth]
[Age: 14]
[Status: Orphan sponsored by a benefactor to enter the Loving Welfare Home]
[Traits: Possesses 50% of the player's health, is the pure and untainted half, with no memories or skills of the future, and will enter the perilous orphanage. Please protect them from harm!]
[Main quest: Escape the orphanage (incomplete)]
——————
[Player Bai Liu's primary identity: Bai Liu]
[Age: 24]
[Status: Terminally ill benefactor of the orphanage]
[Traits: Possesses 50% of the player's health, but due to terminal illness, health will decrease over time after falling ill. Sponsored the child Bai Liu the Sixth.]
[Main quest: Find a way to prolong your life and survive (incomplete)]
Bai Liu glanced at the barrage of system panels, arching an eyebrow.
His main identity was the benefactor, while the child before him—Bai Liu the Sixth—was his own younger self. Bai Liu looked over at the boy.
The fourteen-year-old seemed uncomfortable under such direct scrutiny, turning slightly to avoid Bai Liu's gaze.
Bai Liu obligingly looked away, thinking how troublesome this was—he had always disliked himself at that age: arrogant and difficult.
He stepped out into the corridor, surveying the layout. It was unmistakably the same orphanage he had once visited, though now the buildings were new and pristine, the walls bright with undamaged children's murals, and a playground with a slide stood in the center—features absent from the dilapidated orphanage of his memory.
Examining the dates on the classroom's awards, Bai Liu confirmed this was the orphanage as it had been ten years ago, just as he had suspected—the main storyline of this instance was set at the time of its founding.
Noticing Bai Liu's searching manner, Bai Liu the Sixth softly reminded him, "Today is Sunday, the day of the weekly inspection. The children and teachers aren't here."
"Sunday is inspection day?" Bai Liu turned to him. "Does the orphanage conduct inspections every week? What do they check?"
"I'm not sure. I've only just arrived and haven't been inspected yet. But the rules say that every Sunday, all children must leave for a full-body examination. Those who fail must stay for treatment."
"Many children who go never return—they remain for treatment, and their places in the orphanage are left vacant." The boy looked up at Bai Liu. "But the orphanage doesn't waste empty beds, so every week, new children are brought in. I arrived this week."
Sunday is inspection day, and many children who fail never return…
Bai Liu narrowed his eyes, recalling the nursery rhyme: "Buried on Sunday."
It seemed those who stayed behind were "buried in the earth."
As he pondered, the system issued another prompt:
[System delivery: Each benefactor and their sponsored child receive a one-to-one, single-line walkie-talkie.]
[Walkie-talkie rules: Only the child may call the benefactor, and only during the hours of 21:00–24:00 and 6:00–9:00. Calls outside these times will not connect. Each child may call once per time slot. Please allow your child space to grow independently.]
No sooner had the announcement ended than a massive, old-fashioned mobile phone appeared in Bai Liu's hand, complete with a long antenna.
Bai Liu the Sixth received a child's phone, barely half the size of his palm, dangling from a pink Hello Kitty lanyard around his neck, looking more like a toy.
Bai Liu smiled. "It suits you. If you need anything, you can call me every night from nine to midnight, or in the morning from six to nine. I'll always be there."
"I won't call you," the boy replied flatly. "It's a waste of my time."
Bai Liu had anticipated this. He sighed, then offered a solution without hesitation: "I'll pay you. I'll give you money for every minute you call."
For the first time, a flicker of interest crossed the boy's face. He turned to Bai Liu, hesitating. "How much?"
"One hundred yuan per minute. How about it?" Bai Liu replied, unhurried.
"Deal," the boy agreed at once.
Just then, the bell at the main gate rang. The iron doors swung open, and a flock of children, chattering like birds, poured in behind their teachers, who struggled to corral them.
The two Bai Lius—one grown, one young—stood on the corridor, gazing down at the innocent, carefree children below, their eyes equally detached.
Suddenly, Bai Liu the Sixth turned to his older self. "You don't seem to like children. Why did you sponsor me to enter such a well-appointed orphanage?"
"What kind of benefactor do I seem to you?" Bai Liu asked, amused. "Why do you think I dislike children?"
Though, in truth, he did.
"You look like a Slender Man—expensive suit, pale face. The legend says Slender Man hates children, kills them, and eats their organs."
The boy's calm description reminded Bai Liu to glance at himself. At some point, his appearance had shifted from that of a high school girl to a neatly dressed man in a black top hat.
He found a mirror in the classroom's washroom and saw that his face had been altered: gaunt and pallid, with enormous dark circles, long, skeletal fingers, and limbs stretched awkwardly, as if death were imminent.
He did indeed resemble the infamous child-killing monster, the Slender Man.
"All the benefactors here look just like you," the boy added coolly. "Dressed to the nines, but doomed to die young. None seem the type to do good deeds before death."
"You have a sharp tongue, little one." Bai Liu arched an eyebrow. "Why don't I look like someone who'd do a good deed before dying? Sponsoring you is a good deed, isn't it?"
The boy shot him a sidelong glance. "Are you sure sending me to an orphanage where children keep disappearing is a good deed?"
[System prompt: Inspection day is ending. Children and teachers have returned. Benefactors, please bring your sponsored children to the registration office on the first floor of the Bo'ai Building.]
"Come, I'll take you to register." Bai Liu, on the third floor, prepared to descend.
Across the way, he saw another Slender Man figure in a classroom, staring at him. This man held the hand of a little boy with neat bangs, whose downcast, sullen expression bore a striking resemblance to the grown-up Mu Ke.
That benefactor was Mu Ke.
On the floor above, another benefactor, wielding twin blades, patrolled the corridor like a killer from a horror film.
Bai Liu shielded Bai Liu the Sixth with a smile, meeting the other benefactor's gaze. The Slender Man watched for a moment, then, seeing Bai Liu's protective stance, crossed his blades in a threatening gesture and descended the stairs—whether to register or to seek Bai Liu, it was unclear.
Twin blades—surely the infamous Miao Feichi.
He was clearly searching for Bai Liu, but with all the benefactors sharing the same appearance, the only way to distinguish Bai Liu was by the child at his side.
Bai Liu narrowed his eyes, glancing at Bai Liu the Sixth.
——————
As Miao Gaojiang led his teenage self downstairs, he saw another benefactor waiting at the exit. Instinctively, he reached for his weapon, but the other's words made him relax.
"Dad! I just saw my teenage self! What the hell is going on?"
"Feichi?" Miao Gaojiang eyed him warily. "Is it really you?"
In a game where everyone's main identity looked the same, impersonation was easy. Only the child could confirm one's identity.
But Miao Feichi was not fond of children—he liked to eat them, but not his own.
Yet, as a teenager, Miao Feichi had just awakened to his cannibalistic urges. Seeing his own child, his first reaction would not be to trigger a friendly meeting, but to drive him away, thus failing to activate the secondary identity quest.
Miao Gaojiang, exasperated by his son's temperament, nonetheless explained the rules and probed with questions only they would know.
After a few exchanges, he was mostly convinced, but pressed further. "I need to be sure. Tell me something only you would know."
"Like what?"
"How did we first enter the game… and who was the first person you ate?"
Miao Feichi licked his teeth, recalling the taste. "The first person I ate was the woman who gave birth to me. She was gravely ill, draining the family's money. One night, she asked for water. I brought her a cup of boiling water, forced it down her throat, and her lips and esophagus gave off the scent of cooked flesh."
"She died the next day. Before the burial, I told you I wanted to eat her corpse, and you were horrified. But I knew you wanted her gone too. After she died, I starved myself until you finally cut off a piece for me."
"But she didn't taste good—too old, too sick, all medicine and gristle."
"As for entering the game… wasn't it because of that kid? You took me to dig up graves, I ate corpses, but they were rotten. I wanted fresh meat. That kid was a runaway from the orphanage, begging for help. I figured no one would miss him, but you let him go. He got the police involved, and I was put under surveillance. Starving, I entered the game after biting off his finger. He cried so loud you came running…"
"Enough, you really are Feichi." Miao Gaojiang sighed, cutting him off. "Everyone looks the same here. Let's use 'finger' as our code."
"Fine by me," Miao Feichi agreed, almost nostalgic. "That was the last bite of human flesh I had before entering the game."
Miao Gaojiang disliked the code, but he always indulged his son in such trivial matters, never taking the lead. It was this leniency that allowed Miao Feichi's behavior to go unchecked.
He asked, "Where's your child? Where did you send him?"
"That brat was following me, but there are too many kids here, all looking tender and delicious." Miao Feichi's eyes glinted wickedly. "I bet he got lured away. He's never tasted flesh before—these walking morsels must be irresistible."
As Miao Gaojiang prepared to speak, Miao Feichi waved him off impatiently. "Enough. Can't I eat kids and rivals in this game? It's just data, not real people. Are you going to let your son starve? Don't get in my way."
Miao Gaojiang looked at the lively children, so real they seemed indistinguishable from actual kids. He opened his mouth, then closed it again.
"Go find your child, then register on the first floor," he said at last.
————————
The registration office required players to enter one at a time. When Bai Liu arrived, Miao Feichi and Miao Gaojiang had not yet appeared, which was unsurprising—they first had to find and confirm each other's identities. Miao Gaojiang, with his child, would have an easier time; Miao Feichi, who had ignored his, would struggle.
Earlier, Bai Liu had seen Miao Feichi's child wandering the orphanage alone, trailing after other children with a hungry, wolfish look.
Bai Liu entered the registration room with Bai Liu the Sixth, finding that two had already signed in: Mu Ke, and—upon seeing the name, Bai Liu's gaze darkened.
[Due to blood ties, players Liu Huai and Liu Jiayi have activated the "sibling identity line," registering as brother and sister, each the other's counterpart, unlocking a special dual-line mode.]
[Player Liu Huai (brother): Terminally ill benefactor of the orphanage]
[Traits: 50% health, which decreases over time due to illness. Find a way to prolong your life!]
[Player Liu Jiayi (sister): Sponsored child in the orphanage]
[Traits: 50% health, pure and untainted, must be protected in the perilous orphanage!]
[Note: If either sibling's health reaches zero, both die.]
The last time Bai Liu had seen Liu Jiayi, he'd predicted she would soon enter the game. He hadn't expected their next meeting to be here.
But how had a newcomer like Liu Jiayi entered a multiplayer game directly? Shouldn't she have started with a solo game?
Was there some special bond between her and Liu Huai that caused the system to pull her into his game? Their mode was clearly different from Bai Liu's: not a player and their childhood self, but a brother and sister.
Bai Liu noted that, though it was a two-player mode, their health bars were still at 50%—if either reached zero, they would die. For Bai Liu and his child, the total was split, but for the siblings, it was simply halved, putting them at a disadvantage.
It hardly seemed fair.
Yet, the system had always devised cruel ways to balance the game. Having suffered its nerfs twice, Bai Liu doubted it would present an unfair challenge.
This suggested that halving Liu Huai and Liu Jiayi's health was, in fact, a form of balance for all players.
But for the unlucky siblings, it was a clear injustice—especially as Liu Jiayi was blind, a newcomer, and at a severe disadvantage.
Moreover, despite their blood relation, Miao Feichi and Miao Gaojiang had not triggered a "father-son" identity line, though Bai Liu had seen the younger Miao Feichi. Clearly, the special mode was unique to Liu Jiayi.
Perhaps it was because of her.
A blind child, entering a multiplayer game for the first time—what was her wish, her desire? Bai Liu doubted it was to regain her sight. When he'd interacted with her before, he'd sensed that her longing to see was not as strong as Liu Huai's. She seemed content in her darkness, clinging to her brother. If her desire was bound to him, perhaps that explained the system's choice.
But there could be other reasons. Liu Jiayi was too unusual for Bai Liu to draw any firm conclusions.
He made a mental note of this anomaly.
After registering, Bai Liu the Sixth was led away by the director.
Before leaving, the boy glanced back, expressionless, and made a subtle gesture—rubbing his thumb and forefinger together in the universal sign for money. Bai Liu couldn't help but smile; the child had not forgotten their deal.
He had yet to do anything, but he was already keeping track of his earnings.
The child was taken into the orphanage, while Bai Liu, as a benefactor, was led to a nearby building that resembled a hospital ward. There were nurses and offices, but no reception or doctors—only floor after floor of patient rooms.
The director explained that most benefactors were in poor health and lived here, occasionally visiting the children on open days.
Bai Liu soon realized this was not a hospital, but more like a private convalescent home for wealthy retirees, managed by nurses, with doctors on call as needed.
But the residents here were not healthy retirees, but terminally ill patients. The absence of doctors in such a critical place was odd.
Who would treat them?
The building was filled with patients who all looked like Slender Man—some frail and bedridden, others shuffling slowly through the halls, their faces swathed in bandages, even their eyes concealed.
Only the faint movement of the bandages with each breath proved they were alive, not urban legends.
The deeper he went, the more grotesque the patients became. In the ICU, some were over two meters tall, their feet dangling off the beds, skin mottled and bruised like the poisonous mushrooms Bai Liu had seen on dead children.
These dying benefactors moved sluggishly through the corridors, their spider-like limbs trailing at their sides, their faces turning to watch Bai Liu pass. One even grabbed his ankle.
The patient released him quickly, as if in jest, and let out a strange, manic giggle.