August 2018, Murder Mystery Game Snowpiercer

At 12:30 a.m., the NPCs of Snowpiercer were waiting wearily for the final group of players. Once this three-hour session ended, they could go home and sleep. 

In this immersive theater experience, actors performed in full costume on set. Their only reprieve was slipping out through the back door to smoke and chat about memorable, attractive players. 

Pictures and QR codes for tipping were posted outside the venue, occasionally earning them some extra cash. The actors jokingly referred to their work as a “flesh trade,” especially Diao Zhiyu, who played the role of Qin Xiaoyi. 

With his handsome looks and the role of a cold, aloof finance minister, complemented by his striking features and short wavy hair, Diao Zhiyu was particularly popular with young female players. 

Recently, though, he felt more jaded, growing tired of constantly “selling his looks.” 

Players eager to engage in romantic subplots were completely immersed in their roles, their direct, lingering gazes unmistakably fixated on certain desires. 

At 12:25 a.m., after check-in, it was time for him to head to the station to welcome the last group of twelve players. 

His line delivery was practiced and precise, complete with the obligatory, “Ladies and gentlemen, it’s late. Please bring your invitations and follow me into Rongcheng. This way, please.” 

The Snowpiercer immersive theater in Shanghai

Located in the city center’s shopping mall, Snowpiercer was renowned for its lavish sets and NPC performances.

Satin gowns, embroidered qipao, pearl-strapped evening dresses, and preppy British-style shirts—all pressed and hung in the dressing rooms, with jewelry overflowing from the vanity tables.

The train had twelve private compartments, which served as the players’ character rooms. Once the train stopped, the gates of Rongcheng opened, revealing a snowy cityscape. From the sparkling snow on the ground to the dazzling ballroom, casino, department store, hotel rooms, and bustling marketplace with antique shops and vendors, everything evoked an air of splendor.

More than a dozen NPCs performed live, bringing the lively streets to life with their craft.

Diao Zhiyu arrived at the station with a suit jacket draped over his arm to greet the twelve players. 

Each carried a bag containing a character ID card and a concealed knife. Judging by their unfamiliarity with one another, it seemed to be a mixed group of solo players. 

The story took place during a time of northern wartime chaos in Rongcheng, where officials and dignitaries boarded the train en route to Moscow. 

Due to heavy snowfall, the train halted in Rongcheng. Finance Minister Qin Xiaoyi was tasked with welcoming the stranded guests at the station. 

Rongcheng’s governor had been assassinated, and the players stayed in the city to assist in selecting and supporting a new leader. 

The four candidates were: Finance Minister Qin Xiaoyi, General Feng Youjin, Police Chief Ning Zechen, and Japanese Intelligence Agent Lin Qiumei. Each led a group of three players. 

Gameplay and Immersion

The three-hour session involved three rounds of lights-out gameplay:

1. First Night: Players completed tasks, betrayed one another, and earned money.

2. Second Night: Using subplots, they selected a new Rongcheng leader. Members of the winning faction received an additional knife.

3. Final Night: A battle royale-style showdown ensued, with players using their knives to attack others, and NPCs protecting their faction members.

The game concluded with the last surviving player being sent out of Rongcheng by the newly appointed leader.

The knives were specially designed to mark players’ clothing with luminescent paint, indicating elimination. Rooms also gradually went dark over time, and any players left in unlit rooms were assassinated by NPCs.

The ultimate attraction was the thrilling final night of survival and betrayal, captivating urbanites seeking a break from their monotonous lives.

Diao Zhiyu’s faction included three players: a well-connected ballroom star, an American intelligence spy, and a politically savvy newspaper editor-in-chief. 

During downtime, he often observed players or gambled at the casino. 

Entering the Rongcheng setting, his first task was to book the most expensive room to establish his character’s high status. Then, he engaged in a heated argument with the police chief, with players watching the drama unfold. 

Over three nights, Diao Zhiyu privately assessed the six female players. Excluding the three who were cross-dressing, he focused on the others: 

- The dancer in a red qipao exuded charm and boldness, constantly calling him “Minister Qin” and trying to get money from him. 

- The general’s daughter, dressed in a kimono, was silent but kept staring at him. He was certain she liked him. 

- The intelligence agent in a blue qipao seemed familiar but avoided eye contact, piquing his curiosity. 

In the script, Qin Xiaoyi’s character was a reserved man harboring unrequited love for Lin Qiumei, who shared a childhood bond with Ning Zechen. 

His storyline unfolded gradually. Sure enough, a player secretly hid a knife in his room, triggering the second-round plot: he was ordered by the emperor to be interrogated in prison, switching to a blood-stained white shirt, thrown to the ground, and kicked by colleagues. 

Female players seemed to love this scene—the torn shirt revealing glimpses of his skin and muscles. 

During the second round, all players scrambled to earn money for their faction to buy votes. Winning factions gained additional knives, and completing side quests also rewarded knives. The more knives a player held, the higher their chances of surviving the final battle. 

Players buzzed around Diao Zhiyu, completing tasks and darting off, all to avoid becoming victims on the final night. 

The theater was under surveillance, so even yawning had to be done discreetly, turning one’s back to the camera. Players’ character names were displayed on name tags pinned to their chests, but when the game ended, he still couldn’t remember anyone.

The cabaret dancer continued flirting with him enthusiastically. She fit the role perfectly—frivolous and flirty, using her character as an excuse to tease the equally good-looking Diao Zhiyu. Her attempts seemed like an effort to gain his contact information outside the script. Meanwhile, the general’s daughter was a bit aggressive, always trying to take charge during the voting rounds. Diao Zhiyu observed her coldly, finding her controlling demeanor suffocating.

Especially at the casino, when she suddenly grabbed his collar. It annoyed him, though he turned back to her with a smile. “Don’t rush me—let me finish this round first.”

He stayed at the casino because of its advantageous location. It also gave him a chance to observe players completing tasks.

After several losing streaks with a string of “triplets” in dice, he overheard two players arguing:

“Are you really starting a fight before the game is even over? Such disgraceful behavior. At least pretend to be competent in-character!”

To hold grudges even in a role-playing game—that had to run deep. He walked away, turning a corner in the corridor, where he spotted the hem of a burgundy dress—it was the cabaret dancer.

She was whispering to another group’s cabaret club owner. Though her voice was low, he could still hear bits of their conversation.

“That boyfriend Hu Xiu brought along seems to be asking other girls for their contact info—what a scumbag. I knew it.”

“Oh? Isn’t she the one who keeps getting cheated on? Didn’t she also get dumped before her engagement?”

“I should let her know.”

“Just focus on the game for now. She seems pretty happy wearing that qipao in-character anyway.”

“Interesting—you’re kinder to her than you are to me. I’m your husband, after all. Shouldn’t you reflect on that?”

“She’s here for one of the NPCs. She’s joined multiple random groups just to see him. Don’t mention this during the game.”

“Oh, trying to snag another boyfriend, is she? With all these boats, she’s dock-hopping for sure.”

If he hadn’t misheard, they were talking about someone named Hu Xiu. The blue-qipao-clad intelligence agent wandering aimlessly in the hall seemed to fit the description.

It was his first time hearing a player’s real name during a murder mystery game, and it stuck with him.

After the second voting round ended, the gold medal left behind by the general was purchased by Feng Youjin. The subsequent scenes were about a sibling romance between Feng Youjin and Lin Qiumei.

Exiting the ballroom, Rongcheng’s lights dimmed. His next task was to protect his group members and help them survive until the end. On the third night, the elimination game began.

The background music turned tense and foreboding. Figures darted around the twelve rooms, and in the darkness, Diao Zhiyu could only identify people by the outlines of their clothing. At the start, he witnessed the cabaret dancer stabbing her own boyfriend—a classic example of humans turning on their own.

People scrambled to avoid danger in the dark. Once a room’s lights turned red, it could no longer be used for hiding. The safe zones gradually shrank.

Diao Zhiyu shielded his three group members, while the cabaret dancer clung to him persistently, asking, “Minister Qin, what’s your WeChat ID? Do you have Weibo?”

“That’s not appropriate.”

“I’m asking for a friend.”

He had a hunch it was for the girl named Hu Xiu. Standing under the watchful eyes of the cameras, he answered gently, “It’s really inconvenient. Let’s meet again in Rongcheng next time.”

“She’s already come here three times, never getting into your group, and she’s too shy to bribe the staff for it. She’s about to go bankrupt just trying to see you.”

Her words caught Diao Zhiyu off guard. The cabaret dancer tapped his arm with her finger. “Kid, your tickets are really expensive. It’s not easy for her to come here just to see you. Money doesn’t grow on trees.”

She switched topics abruptly. “Got a knife? Give me one more—I’m off to stab someone.”

If the company discovered any private contact with players, there would be fines. Glancing at the surveillance cameras, Diao Zhiyu decided to find other players in his group.

In the dark, someone bumped into his chest, and a knife grazed him.

It was Hu Xiu in the blue qipao, who nervously smiled and said, “Oops, sorry! Good thing you’re an NPC—otherwise, I’d be doomed.”

She had striking brows and eyes, her pupils gleaming darkly in the dim light, exuding a subtle depth.

Diao Zhiyu’s heartbeat faltered. He teased her in return, “What are you smiling at? Hurry up and hide—stay here any longer, and you’ll be killed.”

She laughed. “I wasn’t planning to be the last one standing anyway. I came here to see handsome men, and now that I’ve seen one, I’m good to go.”

“Who did you come to Rongcheng to see?”

“Aren’t you supposed to have a photographic memory, Minister Qin?” Her face was hidden, but he could tell she was smiling. “Of course, I can’t say who—it’d be too much pressure for him.”

“Is your name Hu Xiu?”

“Yes. How did you know?”

Diao Zhiyu just smiled. “I remember you…”

Making players happy in various ways, ensuring they left satisfied, earned him an extra performance fee per session.

In essence, making others happy was his job. NPCs weren’t real actors, and he knew how to draw the line—especially since she came specifically for him.

Footsteps approached. Hu Xiu instinctively grabbed him. “Can I hide behind you for a bit?”

Behind Diao Zhiyu was the emergency exit, where she crouched low, hiding completely.

But the green light near her leg gave her away. A journalist passing by spotted her and said with a grin, “Brother, I’ll let this one slide, but next time, no mercy.”

Once the coast was clear, Diao Zhiyu continued teasing her, “You really should leave—you can’t hide here for long.”

She jumped out from behind him, glancing around warily. “It’s all your fault—your voice is too magnetic. Whether you speak softly or loudly, it’s instantly recognizable. And also, you’re too skinny.”

“Is that a compliment?”

“I’m saying you don’t inspire much of a sense of safety.” She turned to meet his gaze. “Watch me closely, Minister Qin. I’ll win this with just one knife, even though you called me stupid last time.”

“You’re obviously smart.” Seeing Hu Xiu’s adoring expression, Diao Zhiyu’s smile deepened in the darkness.

“If I come again, will you still recognize me?”

“Probably…”

Hearing the comment about not being safe left him slightly irked. Day after day of performing, he played along effortlessly, always polite to everyone, receiving tips and feeling a faint sense of accomplishment. The company prohibited revealing personal contact details or self-promotion. He was like an alluring image in a magic lantern show—and he played the part well.

Welcoming a fresh batch of unfamiliar players each time, only to find himself back in the void of the magic lantern show once the game ended—nobody knew about the emptiness he felt. Let alone the fact that he was just an NPC. The meaning of the term “NPC” was something many people didn’t even understand.

The alarm sounded, signaling him to head to the final showdown room to watch the results. Behind the flowers and the table, the last two standing were the cabaret dancer and the girl in the blue qipao. The eliminated players, marked with glowing coatings on their bodies, seemed to cheer them on. Someone shouted, “Xiu, don’t lose this one! This is your chance to take down Zhao Xiaorou here!”

The cabaret club owner, always a fan of stirring up drama, added fuel to the fire. “Xiu, Xiaorou has a secret she wants to tell you.”

“Wang Guangming, shut up!” snapped the cabaret dancer, gripping the sleeve of the girl in the blue qipao. Both of them were waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

“Hurry up, both of you! Don’t keep everyone waiting. At critical moments, women need to be ruthless! Xiaorou, if you don’t say it, I’ll say it for you…”

Before he could finish, the girl in the blue qipao made her move, stabbing the cabaret dancer. The glowing coating on the cabaret dancer lit up, signaling her elimination and the end of the game.

The cabaret dancer threw her knife onto the ground and yelled furiously, “Wang Guangming, I’ve had enough! I want a divorce today! You vulgar bigmouth, meet me at the civil affairs office tomorrow!”

The room fell into silence. The darkness concealed the awkwardness of the scene. Zhao Xiaorou shrugged a shawl over her shoulders and said coldly, “Whatever’s going on with Hu Xiu has nothing to do with you. What are you looking at? Game’s over—disperse!”

The casino owner finally lost his temper as well. “So your wings have grown strong now? Divorcing me because of Hu Xiu?”

“I’m doing this for myself!”

Things couldn’t be allowed to escalate further. Diao Zhiyu stepped between them and raised a hand to stop them. “The game is over—stop fighting. Let’s leave Rongcheng in an orderly manner.”

Before he could finish, someone shoved him abruptly. A fist grazed his cheek, and his waist hit the edge of a table.

Other NPCs rushed in to intervene. “No hitting the staff. Please leave the premises.”

As he lifted his head, through the gaps in his curled bangs, Diao Zhiyu caught a glimpse of Hu Xiu’s frightened expression.

The punch he had taken swept away his exhaustion. When Hu Xiu passed by him, she timidly asked, “Are you okay?”

Her concern only added to his humiliation. If it weren’t for his reluctance to embarrass her over her boyfriend’s indiscretion, he might have avoided that punch entirely. After holding back for a long moment, he replied indifferently, “I’m fine…”

Diao Zhiyu was thoroughly displeased. Next, Feng Youjin, the NPC winner of the session, would send the victorious players onto the Snowpiercer. Diao Zhiyu’s role in Rongcheng was simply to bow and take his leave.

As he bowed, he recalled one of Qin Xiaoyi’s winning sessions. When closing Rongcheng’s gates to see off the players, he had once noticed a dejected Hu Xiu among the waving crowd.

She really had come for him.

After changing out of his costume, his slim and lean figure reflected in the mirror. He still looked handsome, aloof, with a faintly delicate beauty. The bruise on his face—he could just add a few extra lines to his script tomorrow to explain it.

But a slow wave of shame and frustration rose within him. At that moment, he truly felt no joy. Even a player who had come specifically for him would still have a boyfriend behind his back. Feeling angry at a player made him feel like a hypocrite, but he couldn’t help himself.

“Catching such a big piece of gossip late at night—what a thrill.”

“What, the divorce?”

“No, the girl called Xiu. Her boyfriend added someone else on WeChat and left her hanging while sharing a cab with another girl.”

“Apparently, Hu Xiu came here just to see Diao Zhiyu. Diao Zhiyu, since you don’t have a girlfriend anyway, why don’t you just go for her?”

“Are you kidding?” Diao Zhiyu slipped into a denim jacket and gave himself one last glance in the mirror. “I’m heading out…”

At 1 a.m., as he walked through the quiet streets, Hu Xiu’s name lingered in his mind, refusing to fade. What he didn’t know was that his story as an actor truly began with her.