The number of people fainting in the psychiatric hospital began to rise. Not even half an hour would pass without someone collapsing. The nurses went from initial panic to numbness. In the span of a single, short day, only a handful of nurse sisters remained. Nearly all the orderlies delivering food had fled. The only constant was the thick white mist lingering in the air.
Ye Shu took a bite of the dry, chewy shaobing in her hand, gazing into the nearly impenetrable fog outside. The opaque white haze gave her an unwelcome sense of threat, as if the moment she stepped out of the room, she’d end up just like those other patients.
“Master… The smell outside is getting worse,” the Jiaoren said, gnawing on a frozen hunk of fish, grimacing at the open window. He had never so loathed his own heightened sense of smell.
Ye Shu responded with a nonchalant “Mm.”
Everywhere online, thread after thread concerned the white fog, and the swelling numbers of the fainting. The numbers ticked upwards every second. Outside, the fog seemed—if anything—even denser.
The only blessing was that none of those who had blacked out had died.
…
Ninth day of the game.
The last staff member at the psychiatric hospital went down. Ironically, those confined in their rooms—patients—survived, at least for now. The supplies for this hospital were delivered from the city each day. With the staff gone, patients were forced to step out and search for their own food; without protective suits, contact with the white fog was inevitable.
Ye Shu’s door was knocked upon nonetheless.
“Open up, Number 1…”
Ye Shu recognized the voice. It was Liu Ruyan from Room 21. Her story was much like the original Ye Xiaoshu’s; both were sent here by their husbands, both conscious in mind until the end. The two had been fairly close before.
The small window in the door slid open.
A woman’s pale face appeared in the opening.
“What do you want?” Ye Shu asked.
“Ye Xiaoshu, are you lucid now? Please save me, I can’t take this hunger anymore… Help me, please? The fog outside is dangerous, I can’t bring myself to go out.”
“We share the same misfortune—won’t you help me out?”
Liu Ruyan’s eyes, dark-ringed with exhaustion, bore into Ye Shu’s. A few tears fell, and her voice nearly begged, “Ye Xiaoshu, I know you’ve stashed food. I just need a few pieces of bread, just enough to get through these days!”
Though no one had identified the cause, everyone treated the white mist like a virus—avoiding it at all costs. No one would risk their life by leaving now.
Ye Shu remained unmoved. Based on their prior rapport, she could have handed Liu Ruyan some food—but that meant opening the door. Such risk was utterly out of the question.
Nor would she let sentimentality, nor bonds from the original owner’s life, compel her to open up for someone.
“Sorry, I can’t open the door.”
“You’ll have to find another way. I can’t help you.”
Her tone was firm, with not a trace of sympathy, and she raised her hand to close the hatch.
Liu Ruyan’s gaze remained imploring, but the disappointment was palpable. “Ye Xiaoshu, we’re fellow inmates at least. You can’t even spare me a mouthful?”
Ye Shu did not miss the greed flickering in the woman’s eyes. She replied, blunt as ever: “Correct.”
Liu Ruyan was left speechless.
What was going on?
The foolish Ye Xiaoshu of the past would have obediently opened the door at her coaxing. With a little wheedling, Ye Xiaoshu would hand over her entire hoard.
She couldn’t understand why Ye Xiaoshu had stockpiled so much food this time around, but even so—it would just become hers in the end.
If only she’d been reborn sooner... she would already have escaped this hospital by now. Instead, she’d have to rely on Ye Xiaoshu’s cache just to scrape by.
Seeing Ye Shu stand her ground, Liu Ruyan tried another tactic—a threat. “Ye Xiaoshu, are you really going to be so cold? Don’t blame me then.”
“Blame you for what?”
“I’ll say it once more—get away from my door.”
Ye Shu fished out a handgun from her inventory, aimed it through the door at Liu Ruyan. It wasn’t much, just the lowest-tier she had—anything stronger, like a rocket launcher, would destroy the room and bring in the mist.
“Ye Xiaoshu, you think a toy gun is going to scare me?”
Liu Ruyan scoffed, eyeing Ye Shu inside. She didn’t believe timid, feckless Ye Xiaoshu could possibly have a real weapon. If she’d had one, why had she let Liu con her out of everything in the last life?
Bang—
A shot rang out. The bullet grazed Liu Ruyan’s temple, burrowing into the wall. The door’s glass window shattered. Ye Shu patched it instantly with an optimizer.
“You…”
Ye Xiaoshu actually had a real gun?!
It couldn’t be—but she’d fired at her! Liu Ruyan stood rooted, stunned, feeling a sting on her cheek, the scent of blood tickling her nose. In her shock, she didn’t even notice the now-repaired window between them.
How did Ye Xiaoshu dare?! She’d just fired—injured her—with white mist swirling outside.
If the mask broke, would she be infected…
A few more days, and the mist would supposedly dissipate. Why would Ye Xiaoshu expose herself now? No—if the fog vanished, why had Liu herself been reborn? Why couldn’t she remember how she died? She couldn't recall leaving the hospital.
“One last time: Get lost. Or my next shot won’t be a warning.”
“Oh, and for whoever’s lurking in the shadows—I see you, too.”
Ye Shu’s gaze flicked to a blind spot down the hall, eyes sharp as knives.
Facing the muzzle, Liu Ruyan’s fear spiked. As if suddenly realizing her situation, she staggered away in a panic, as though hellhounds were at her heels, not even stopping to retrieve her broken mask.
If she, Liu Ruyan, could be reborn—then what about the Ye Xiaoshu she’d killed previously?
Was she reborn too? In the last life, Ye Xiaoshu died because of her…
Would she be killed in turn this time?!
The thought sent Liu Ruyan fleeing even faster down the hall.
The Jiaoren, perplexed, bit into another hunk of frozen meat and bared his teeth in a cheshire grin. “Master… what was she doing? It’s just a handgun—scared her half to death!”
“No clue. With nerves that fragile, she still dared to gang up with others to snatch my supplies?”
Ye Shu grumbled, shaking her head as she returned to practicing her Wing Chun forms.
Online, the chorus of voices advocating for patient welfare grew louder. Yet there was no sign of anyone’s health improving, and the number of sudden faintings only continued to climb.
…
Ninth day of the game.
The number of players held steady. None of the unconscious had been marked as dead.
Su Bai was still sending in his daily messages, assuring her he was safe.
Ye Shu noticed the white fog outside the floor-to-ceiling window seemed thinner. At first she thought it was a trick of the mind—but with a few minutes’ careful observation, she saw with her own eyes the fog dissipating. In just a few hours, the haze no longer blotted out the world. Shafts of sunlight could be glimpsed, faint and rare, in the high air above.
The news that the fog was thinning shot to the top of trending searches.
Watching the last wisps evaporate, Ye Shu felt a kind of unreality. Had the fog… just vanished, that easily?
Her instincts warned her—this advanced survival game would not be resolved so simply. The disappearance of the fog surely meant something else was soon to come.
By evening, the white haze was utterly gone—even Cloudmist Mountain’s usual gentle mists faded to nothing. The absence left Ye Shu feeling uneasier than before.
“Master, are we on vacation here?”
The Jiaoren, unaccustomed to non-marine settings and inexperienced with game worlds, was confused. Every time their dazzling companion returned, she’d regale both him and the little clownfish with her tales of hair-raising adventures; the underground world last time had been so deadly, even SS+ anomalies couldn’t defeat the game’s ordinary ghosts. And here he was, lazing about a hospital room… and he’d already put on two pounds.
“Well, why not think so?”
With the mist gone, Ye Shu felt no sense of danger lingering in her body. Maybe…it was time to move on to a more comfortable spot to rest.