Horror games? Whatever, I'll die.

The thin thread almost severed the entire wrist; if it were a real person, there would probably only be a little skin connecting the tendons.

Liang Zaibing was so angry she could have teeth itched; hiding him so well meant she really wanted him dead.

Human beings tend to avoid considering alternative answers when faced with an obvious one, and being misled is a natural occurrence.

-----

The bathtub was filled with hot water, and Liang Zaibing almost jumped out when she lay down in it.

God knows he's the kind of person who takes a bath in 43-degree water even in winter.

Liang Zaibing grimaced at Jiang Qingjian, "Couldn't you just use cold water?"

Jiang Qingjian turned on the tap. "Hot water can promote blood flow and prevent the wound from clotting. If you don't mind making a few more cuts, it's fine to use cold water."

Liang Zaibing was completely speechless. She endured the heat and lay down inside. Within minutes, her entire body was flushed red from the fumes.

He rested his left wrist on the edge of the bathtub, anxiously waiting for Jiang Qingjian to make his move.

Jiang Qingjian slowly took out his phone, swiped a few times, and showed it to Liang Zaibing.

"I took the photos you requested."

In the photo, Sheng Jingyu is lying on the lawn with his hands tied behind his back and his feet bound by rope. He turns his head angrily towards the camera, probably cursing Jiang Qingjian for actually taking the photo.

Liang Zaibing couldn't help but laugh. The next moment, he felt a sharp pain in his wrist. He couldn't control his left hand and could only feel something hanging precariously on his wrist.

His face turned deathly pale instantly, and large beads of sweat rolled down his forehead.

Liang Zaibing opened her mouth and took a few difficult breaths before saying in a stiff voice, "...You're so despicable."

Jiang Qingjian smoothed his damp hair. "All's fair in war. Don't fall for my tricks next time."

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

The wound was soaked in hot water, and warm blood flowed from it, diluting into a light red color in the water, turning the entire bathtub red.

The pain and sensation gradually faded away.

Liang Zaibing felt like a phone with only 5 bars of battery left, about to be forced to shut down due to insufficient power.

He nodded groggily, and a familiar figure suddenly appeared in his blurry vision.

Yu Nian stared at him with eyes full of endless resentment, wanting to kill him but forced to watch helplessly by the rules.

In a proper suicide process, vengeful spirits should be unable to interfere; otherwise, achieving the conditions for survival would be too difficult.

Liang Zaibing was about to say something when his right eyelid suddenly twitched a few times. He heard Chen An's low, suppressed voice say, "No."

Liang Zaibing pondered for a few seconds before realizing that he meant Yu Nian was not allowed to be taken away.

Liang Zaibing managed a weak laugh.

Why would he think of himself as a benevolent person who wants to give all the vengeful ghosts a home?

Yu Nian wished she could eat his flesh and skin him alive. Wouldn't asking him to go back just disrupt a harmonious life?

"You say that to every ghost." Chen An's tone was inexplicably certain.

Eleven, floating beside him, nodded silently.

...I have no way to defend myself.

Thinking about these things took too much of his energy, and in the end, his five bars of battery were almost depleted.

Liang Zaibing closed her eyes heavily.

Yu Nian stood by the bathtub, her expression unusually calm.

He died five years ago in the summer.

And now, this long and torturous summer is finally over.

-----

[The copy has been cleared]

[Game settlement in progress...]

Main quest completed.

[Completion Rating: S]

[Reward points: 7000]

[Reward Points: 17037]

[Item Obtained: Failed Living Corpse Puppet (Each player can only obtain this item once; it is non-tradable)]

The dungeon rating and quest rewards were significantly reduced, probably because the cursed item wasn't obtained.

Even though the top donor isn't around, the donations are still decent.

This prop, however, is what he's really interested in; it's probably the wax figure used to hold his soul in the dungeon.

He clicked on the miniature pale wax figure icon to check the effect.

[Effect 1: Players can control the zombie puppet to move around in the dungeon, limited to once per dungeon, and for a maximum of 2 hours]

[Effect 2: When a player suffers a fatal injury, the player dies once in their place]

Seeing the second effect, Liang Zaibing finally understood why so many top players gathered in a B-level dungeon.

This kind of essential life-saving item is something anyone with a bit of ability would definitely try to get their hands on; it's priceless.

While he was still checking the dungeon settlement information, Chen An was already urging him to log out of the game.

"Hungry."

Liang Zaibing had no choice but to put away the panel and exit the horror game.

-----

"Ouch—" Liang Zaibing hugged a pillow and rolled halfway around on the sofa, groaning.

Even though I had already left the instance, the feeling of weakness from excessive blood loss still lingered.

He feels as soft as cotton, and it's difficult for him to even stand up.

Eleven prepared some warm honey water and handed it to him, asking, "Are you going to the hospital?"

Liang Zaibing took a sip from the cup, thought for a moment, and nodded, "I should go see a traditional Chinese medicine doctor and get some tonics. This damn dungeon is really taking a toll on my health."

After lunch, Liang Zaibing took Eleven and Chen An out and hailed a taxi to the Municipal Central Hospital.

In the real world, a soul can freely choose its form, such as a transparent ghost invisible to the naked eye, or a physical entity without a heartbeat or body temperature.

When there are many people outside, I usually switch to ghost form. After all, it wouldn't be good if people noticed anything amiss, and maybe one day headlines would appear like "Shocking! Zombies appear on the streets of X city".

As soon as he got into the car, the driver couldn't help but sneeze and muttered a few strange words, "That's weird, the air conditioner was just malfunctioning, but now it's so powerful?"

It's chilly, isn't it? Two ghosts are blasting cold air from behind you.

Since hanging out with them, we haven't needed to turn on the air conditioning in the summer, and the electricity saved has all gone into Chen An's stomach.

The driver kept glancing at the rearview mirror because of the creepy feeling on his back, but he couldn't find anything unusual.

Liang Zaibing could only cough once to remind him, "Watch where you're going."

Fortunately, the road wasn't long, otherwise the driver might have caused a traffic accident for them.

After paying the fare, Liang Zaibing went to the lobby to register for a traditional Chinese medicine internal medicine appointment. He waited in line for quite a while before his number was called.

The doctor was writing something on the computer with his head down. From this angle, you could only tell that he was very young. He was wearing silver-rimmed glasses and his white coat was very clean.

"Are you feeling unwell?"

When the doctor looked up, Liang Zaibing almost coughed up a mouthful of spittle.

Mo Qiuping noticed that he seemed a little stunned, but quickly regained his composure and gestured for him to sit down.

"Why are you here?"

"work."

Mo Qiuping answered calmly, but Liang Zaibing felt like she was being treated like a fool.

Liang Zaibing coughed awkwardly, "Since we're all acquaintances, could you recommend a good doctor to me?"

Mo Qiuping pointed to the door, "The specialist appointments upstairs are 500 yuan each."

Of course, a registration fee of 10 yuan can only get you a junior traditional Chinese medicine doctor.

"..."

Seeing that he had no intention of leaving, Mo Qiuping took the registration slip from his hand and scanned the code.

Upon taking the pulse and asking questions, it was found that the patient had a deficiency of vital energy, liver deficiency, and poor spleen and stomach function.

"Let's stay up all night."

"Stay up a little bit, then go to bed at midnight."

Actually, I don't go to bed until 2 AM.