Chapter 60

Haven’t You Seen How Those Girls Look at Him Like Starving Wolves?

In the past half month, Hu Xiu had clearly felt her energy slipping away.

The administrative department was a whirlwind of activity. She worked in the main office while Chen Yang was in the vice principal’s office. Every day, they carried file folders back and forth between three buildings. On top of that, Dr. Jin had borrowed her for his reproductive genetics department. Two conferences in two weeks—Lancet vs. Little Pills: Endometriosis Treatment Symposium and Ovarian Cyst Surgery Summit—had left thick stacks of documents covering their desks. PowerPoint slides filled with tables, symbols, ultrasound images, and chromosome snapshots were making her eyesight fade.

If she didn’t understand something, she’d learn from Dr. Jin in his office. The grumpy man wore a white lab coat over a black sweater covered in cat fur. He sneezed now and then.

At least this man had one excellent quality—he minded his own business. After drinking with her at the farewell party, he never mentioned Pei Zhen again.

Thinking about how Pei Zhen met up with his ex-girlfriend in the US, it reminded her that Dr. Jin also returned from studying there.

He knew what he was getting into by asking Hu Xiu about Pei Zhen—he was potentially setting his friend up for trouble.

If convicted of harboring a criminal, any adult man could face prison time starting at five years just to protect their buddy.

Every night, Diao Zhiyu waited outside the hospital in a convenience store, typing away on his computer by the window.

After following Hu Xiu home with his backpack, he’d sit on the balcony sofa writing scripts for escape rooms, buying props online, arranging renovations, or occasionally snapping secret photos before heading back after she fell asleep.

After several nights like this, exhaustion finally caught up with Diao Zhiyu as he dozed off on the sofa. Unable to bear sending him home, Hu Xiu suggested he take a shower and sleep in her bed instead.

As she watched from beside the sofa, Diao Zhiyu stirred groggily awake. Within sixty seconds, his expression shifted seamlessly from innocent to seductive—all through subtle eyebrow movements and eye contact alone.

Hu Xiu couldn’t resist either; drawn into the moment, she began unbuttoning his shirt and leaning in... until her tongue traced across his chest.

“Damn it...” Diao Zhiyu cursed under his breath, then swept her up in his arms and tossed her onto the bed.

Young men can’t handle much teasing, she should have known. Before the flames of desire could fully die out, he’d be back, pushing her until she begged for mercy.

Back and forth they went...

Soon enough, an extra toothbrush appeared in Hu Xiu’s cup, another towel hung in the bathroom, and two more pairs of underwear joined the drying rack.

Her mind was a whirlwind of DNA spirals. When she opened her eyes in the morning, she saw the camel clutching her arm tightly. Hu Xiu gently tickled his eyelashes with her fingers. Feeling the itch, the camel reached out to grab her face.

Every time she snuggled into the Diao Zhiyu’s arms, she’d inevitably get poked by something. She couldn’t pretend it didn’t bother her.

After all, despite Diao Zhiyu’s fluttering eyelashes, his black eyes sparkled with mischief. Ah, he was too young—so young that happiness came rushing at him, overwhelming him.

He loved licking people, especially sensitive spots like lips, ears, and necks. He’d get excited whenever he found a spot that made her squirm—was he secretly a cat?

As they moved together, she buried her head in his warm embrace, not wanting to hear the alarm clock.

His eyes held a magical power; every time she looked into them, she felt as though her shaky twenty-seven years of loneliness, confusion, and insecurity had all been leading up to this moment—to be embraced by him.

The progress on their escape rooms was swift. Zhao Xiaorou handed over control to Diao Zhiyu, who designed a series of mildly scary mystery experiences. Three interconnected escape rooms could be played separately or all at once, with twelve NPCs providing continuous support and acting out the storylines. The cast consisted of eight men and four women, carefully controlling players’ emotions—

The escape rooms would be full of mechanical puzzles and story twists. Non-player characters (NPCs) would lead players through challenges while also competing against each other. Players could replay multiple times for different endings. Even if the stories were boring, female players would come back just to see a handsome boy, and male players would be smitten by the actresses.

Diao Zhiyu had thought through every detail to make money, which was exactly what Zhao Xiaorou wanted.

After the New Year, she planned to personally visit the Shanghai Theatre Academy to pick actors, boldly declaring her intention to choose the most attractive male and female students as NPCs. If they were going to do it, they might as well do it right.

To observe the escape room’s design and operations, the four of them often played during midnight hours.

Li Ai, who had recently undergone surgery, was doing much better overall. He pretended nonchalance as he helped Zhao Xiaorou open the car door with his bamboo cane.

Playing escape rooms at night often attracted young people used to staying up late. They’d dress stylishly, go straight from the escape room to bars after finishing their game.

One February evening, while playing “Desolate Hospital” in an escape room, Zhao Xiaorou smoked outside before saying upon entering: “That guy we saw earlier was Wang Jialai.”

“Huh?” Hu Xiu’s jaw dropped.

“Yeah, he often plays late-night sessions with staff members. This down-to-earth man likes grabbing plushies at night, dancing in bars, buying panda-themed souvenirs, and is especially crazy about escape rooms.”

I hope he comes after we open our escape room. Then I can tell everyone that even Wang Jialai likes it. Diao Zhiyu, have you ever met any famous people before?”

“Yeah, I’ve seen both celebrities and influencers.”

“Do you get excited about that?”

“No...” Diao Zhiyu was very calm. “In Shanghai, rich people and famous folks are everywhere.”

“You’re really strange,” Zhao Xiaorou said as she poked him in the back. “If I say you’re young, you seem like someone who’s seen a lot of big waves; if I say you’re mature for your age, you don’t feel at all greasy or pretentious.”

Diao Zhiyu walked away, feeling embarrassed.

Zhao Xiaorou was secretly laughing when suddenly her eyes narrowed. “Oh man, you two have slept together.”

Hu Xiu looked stiffly at Diao Zhiyu. He pretended not to hear, still taking notes on his phone.

Zhao Xiaorou pointed at Diao Zhiyu’s neck. “These two finger marks—what’s up with that? Are you trying to look like Kenshin Himura from Rurouni Kenshin?”

After seeing Diao Zhiyu leave, Zhao Xiaorou leaned closer to Hu Xiu. “Why has Li Ai been acting weird lately? Did you ask him for me?”

“No. Haven’t you been spending all your time together?” Even though they saw each other constantly in the office, the two were still having a disagreement.

“He’s been going to court a lot lately,” Diao Zhiyu said. “And I heard from the coffee shop guy that Li Ai was there crying a few days ago—really sobbing.”

That was news to Hu Xiu. She watched Li Ai chatting with staff in the distance. “I’ve never seen Li Ai cry before.”

“So... you’ll ask him for me?”

Nearby, Li Ai tapped his cane on the ground while looking around. That was how he thought.

His hands seemed to move aimlessly, but they were actually drawing something. Hu Xiu yawned widely—it was time. The DM invited them inside.

Three other players sat next to her. One girl’s eyes were fixed on Diao Zhiyu as he gestured in the shadows.

This is what happens when a handsome man flaunts himself, Hu Xiu thought. Next time, we’ll need to fully arm him with masks to reduce his exposure or draw two thick eyebrows on his face to make him look less appealing!

Once the game started, she’d have to keep an eye on him closely. On the Snowpiercer, she’d looked for every opportunity to get close to him—and that didn’t even count all the female players lurking in the dark.

The thought had barely formed when Diao Zhiyu suddenly pulled Hu Xiu into his arms, completely ignoring everyone else watching them.

The atmosphere began to turn eerie. Hu Xiu felt secretly pleased. See? This pretty boy already has someone.

Their spines straightened as they listened intently.

The Wasteland Hospital was set in modern times, with scenes unfolding within abandoned hospitals. The story began when M City fell victim to a bizarre serial killer spree. Unable to find the culprit hiding inside one such hospital, the police were stumped.

Over the next year, deaths continued to plague the hospital. Fearful patients stopped seeking treatment there, and eventually, the government abandoned it altogether. But the curse didn’t end there; misfortune seemed to spread throughout the entire city. People started disappearing without a trace, until finally, the once-thriving metropolis lay desolate. Those who could escape did so without hesitation.

As players entered this ruined world, their mission was to uncover the truth hidden within the hospital—and make their escape within two hours.

From the DM’s description, the game leaned towards mild horror. Players had the option to adjust the intensity of individual NPCs—either removing them entirely or turning them up to maximum scare factor. After discussing it among themselves, the group decided: if they were going all-in, why not go big?

Zhao Xiaorou secretly asked Wang Jialai, the staff member overseeing the game, what level of spice they’d chosen. Wang Jialai waved his hand, unwilling to reveal too much—but subtly gave her a thumbs-up—maximum scare. That made sense; only the bravest dared to play Wasteland Hospital.

Upon entering, players found themselves face-to-face with decapitated corpses and skeletons. Each person received nothing more than a small candle that flickered out at the slightest touch.

Hu Xiu’s legs went weak at once. A chill swept over her lower legs; she sneezed, and her candle went out.

Diao Zhiyu turned around, lit Hu Xiu’s candle with his own, then continued walking ahead.

The girl behind her said, “Oh my god, isn’t that boy gorgeous?! He’s so hot I want to steal him from his team.”

In the darkness, Hu Xiu rolled her eyes. She opened a drawer—it held a severed fake limb, bloody, with its ring finger cut off.

Li Ai leaned in. “This might be a clue. Is there a finger anywhere in this room?”

After searching everywhere, they indeed found the cut-off finger in a corner. It had a ring mark and clear fingerprints.

Using the fingerprint, they opened the hidden door at the end of the corridor. This is thanks to me being an experienced escape artist, Hu Xiu thought. If Poison Milk picked up this finger, it’d probably be game over for everyone.

The three girls followed Diao Zhiyu together. There were three bodies in the morgue. The first was a child, with a clue on their body:

“Dad, please take me with you when you run.”

The second was an old person—not too old—and all their organs had been removed, leaving their stomach caved in.

Matching the names with the list outside the morgue’s freezer, several bodies were missing. Hu Xiu looked around. “Maybe they were stolen for organ transplants?”

Before anyone could finish speaking, Zhao Xiaorou lifted the third corpse—it was alive!

The background music instantly changed as a group of people jumped up and ran for the door. Li Ai was the last one out, using his cane to block the handle.

The NPC in the morgue roared, “Give me back my family, you heartless doctors...”

Hu Xiu fled in terror and asked Diao Zhiyu, “What just happened?”

“You’ll see if you go outside. It’s all for shock value.”

“But that’s so sudden! That’s the morgue we’re talking about!”

“Isn’t it normal?” Diao Zhiyu braced himself against the ward door. Hearing Li Ai’s voice, he opened a gap and let him inside. Now seven people were crammed into the room. Zhao Xiaorou took Li Ai’s cane to steady herself. “I’m going to check under the bed. There might be more scary things hidden there.”

This move naturally improved her relationship with Li Ai. The real-life conflict had been resolved in an extreme environment—using the bridge effect to melt away past grievances—this was the benefit of being locked in a room together.

Underneath the bed lay a password box. The password was on the ceiling of the lobby, requiring someone to fetch it alone.

A message came through the walkie-talkie: “That long-haired girl, you go.”

Hu Xiu couldn’t believe it. “Me?”

They always pick the most inexperienced for solo missions. The candle had been blown out during all that running around; not a single light was left on.

Hu Xiu held the extinguished candle, searching for any source of fire to relight it—there wasn’t any.

She tossed the candle onto the ground—what use was this supposed “reveal” tool? It was just there to annoy players.

On the ceiling of the main hall hung a painting, left behind by the headmaster before his retirement. His daughter loved deer, so the ceiling featured an oil painting titled Deer Park Eternal Spring.

Memorizing the password in green-yellow-blue-white order, she hadn’t even finished committing the numbers to memory when the door behind her burst open—a man chasing after his family once again.

After racing through the hospital, getting lost and stumbling in the dark, Hu Xiu felt like this wasn’t about completing tasks but simply scaring off players.

Back in the patient room, she recited the numbers and wrote a letter home. The headmaster’s beloved daughter had been kidnapped, and to save her, he needed to remove healthy organs from the hospital’s patients, sending them to city officials for transplants elsewhere.

Zhao Xiaorou laughed, “This script is practically adapted from real-life events.”

Two people had to stay in the room for the game to continue. Once the plot outside triggered, more NPCs should appear inside—though whether they’d be under the blankets or hidden in wardrobes remained a mystery.

Hu Xiu waved her hand weakly after running so much. “Go ahead without me. Li Ai and I will stay here. We can’t run anymore.”

“What if there’s more scary stuff?” Diao Zhiyu asked as he turned back.

“Then I’ll protect Li Ai.” Hu Xiu made a strongman pose. “Don’t worry about it.”

The room went dark. The two sat by the hospital bed. Hu Xiu leaned close to Li Ai; his arm was warm against her, making her feel less scared.

They were left alone to talk things out. Hu Xiu started first, “I heard you haven’t been talking to Zhao Xiaorou lately?”

“I broke up with her...”

Stunned, Hu Xiu couldn’t see Li Ai’s face or expression clearly in the darkness.

“After the verdict, I might get a two-million-yuan settlement fee—about the same amount as my breakup payment from Zhao Xiaorou.

If I return her six hundred thousand yuan, we could officially become business partners next.”

“You’re sure about settling the case?”

“A few days ago, another victim’s family visited my coffee shop again. They knelt down and begged for reconciliation. Their son had already died, but they needed this money to support their other sons’ lives.

Another family once trashed my store but didn’t kneel. They still held some resentment towards me.

After all, I always insisted on not settling cases, affecting their ability to start new lives.”

I never agreed to settle; I just wanted my wife to apologize—

At the scene of the accident, he got out of his car and asked how much it would take to fix things. I can’t forgive that. He was a spoiled rich kid who’d been drinking. He crashed into two people, killing them both. The hospital staff still haven’t woken up from their injuries. From start to finish, he showed no respect for human life.

But after what happened a few days ago, when they knelt before me—I realized...”

Li Ai sighed with a smile. “They need money from the deceased to save the lives of those still living. For someone like me, where justice is more important than money, this may be the only hurdle I can’t overcome in life.

And as they reach the middle or end of their lives, with perhaps even more pain than mine, there are many more hurdles they’ll need money to cross. I think it’s time to let go.”

That’s why he had sat down at the coffee shop and cried. Hu Xiu patted Li Ai on the leg. “Letting go doesn’t mean you’ll forget her.”

“You’re right. She was my family, and my lover. After we reconciled, I needed time to get back to normal life—to take on design projects again, open a store, make Zhao Xiaorou’s life easier.”

“With her... do you think there’s still a chance?”

“Let’s wait a bit longer,” Diao Zhiyu said. “We’ll bring it up after we’ve repaid her six hundred thousand yuan. I don’t want to force reconciliation on her. Overwhelming emotions can be suffocating; I’ve already made her unhappy enough.”

The alarm blared. As expected, there was movement under the bed behind them. Outside, people were running and screaming.

Zhao Xiaorou shouted, “Li Ai, Hu Xiu, get out here! That cold storage room is full of living people!”

All twelve drawers in the cold storage unit opened, and people started crawling out from inside.

Hu Xiu pulled Li Ai up, and they stumbled to open the door. Behind them, the NPC had already dropped to the ground, ready to chase them—this must have been what they called jia ma jia la (a type of intense pursuit).

Diao Zhiyu, who’d played NPCs for so long, now instinctively shielded everyone behind him. “Be careful, follow me. Once we’re up the stairs, hide in the surgery room—it doesn’t have any hidden compartments. We’ll block the door and look for a chance to escape.”

His protective stance seemed to transport everyone back to the Snowpiercer, echoing Minister Qin leading his team.

The ward lit up red. Zhao Xiaorou ran back into the room for Li Ai, pulling him along as they tried to escape quickly.

Diao Zhiyu continued shielding the three female players. Li Ai stood in front of Hu Xiu and Zhao Xiaorou, not planning to run.

A man with a talisman on his face approached them, letting out a terrifying roar.

As he got closer, Zhao Xiaorou suddenly reached out. “What kind of weird stuff is this?”

After removing it, a handsome face was revealed, leaving both the boy and Zhao Xiaorou stunned.

In less than two seconds, Zhao Xiaorou broke into a smile. “Oh my goodness, you’re so good-looking! Why didn’t you come earlier to scare us? Come grab me, go ahead.”

The guy looked somewhat like KinKi Kuniishi. Zhao Xiaorou forced him towards the autopsy table, accidentally tripping him inside.

Zhao Xiaorou crouched down, patting his chest and taking the chance to feel around. “Why be a ghost when you could be a perfectly fine person? You’re way too handsome for this game to end already; we haven’t even had a proper chat yet.”

Hu Xiu nearly burst out laughing from the side.

Zhao Xiaorou’s hands remained on the boy’s chest. “Why aren’t you wearing more? Aren’t you cold lying in there? Ah, I bet all Shanghai’s handsome guys are stuck in these escape rooms.

“Can I play again? Next time, make sure you appear early so I can recognize you right away—promise. If we do another round, will you still be here?”

“It’s gone...” The man who looked like Kin Ki Kuniishi didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “I still have my earplugs in. My boss is going to deduct money...”

“Come on, catch me! Catch me if you can. I’m here to investigate the truth. If you catch me, evil will triumph over justice. Come after me!”

The game wasn’t finished yet. After all, Zhao Xiaorou had been frantically trying to squeeze an NPC’s chest for the last five minutes.

The plot was just as they’d guessed—a dark, socially relevant story. Two players, Diao Zhiyu and a girl, had specific roles to play. They were supposed to be victims’ family members, coming forward to seek justice. The hospital was suspected of selling organs illegally, with the former director and local officials being the main culprits—

Modern escape rooms sure tackled tough issues head-on. It was too dark inside to see anything clearly, and everyone was exhausted by the time they got out. Only three girls were still enthusiastic about exchanging WeChat contacts.

Diao Zhiyu pointed at Hu Xiu. “Sorry, I already have a girlfriend.”

“We just want to make some friends...”

“Sorry, I do have a girlfriend. My family is very strict about these things—really, my apologies.”

Diao Zhiyu’s professional smile was instantly recognizable, along with his standard line from Snowpiercer: “Let’s discuss this kind of thing after leaving Rongcheng.” In reality, actors would only remain within Rongcheng.

The three girls glanced at Hu Xiu, then back at Diao Zhiyu, their disappointment evident as they waved goodbye.

Zhao Xiaorou held her phone, muttering, “Damn it! So that’s how the game ends? I couldn’t even get that boy’s WeChat contact—he refused no matter what.

Do I look like some frustrated player with unfulfilled desires or something? I just wanted to recruit him for my escape room!”

“That move was way too obvious... No wonder he didn’t fall for it.”

“C’mon, if I wanted to hook up with him, I’d never use such a direct approach, okay?

Besides, I saw how stubbornly he resisted inside; I thought it showed real dedication—and a bit of cuteness, too—it was just a joke.

If he’s so serious in his work, willing to die rather than give in, isn’t he exactly the best employee my escape room could have?”

Li Ai stood smoking in the distance, observing silently.