By the next day, Qi Yang hadn’t told anyone about the note he received last night. He had watched Nan Sheng and it seemed the man still didn’t know someone—or some ghost—had contacted him privately.

Qi Yang certainly didn’t think the ghost who tossed him the note was being benevolent; it probably knew a lot, knew he was special to Nan Sheng. Qi Yang realized this almost instantly: the other party’s primary target was most likely Nan Sheng.

Qi Yang didn’t have much affection for Nan Sheng. Even though the man had looked after him in many ways in the game, it was because of the man’s own reasons that Qi Yang could casually play these terrifying death games. But that didn’t mean he disliked Nan Sheng; there was no contradiction.

On the contrary, in a certain respect, Qi Yang ended up pregnant because of a man and was pulled into this game, which prevented him from immediately terminating the pregnancy. The man deceived him, hid things from him, and pretended to care sincerely. Qi Yang very much wanted to tell the man directly to stop acting when they were face to face.

But the thought flashed by and passed, because to Qi Yang it would be far too cheap to expose the man’s tricks so easily.

Earlier Qi Yang didn’t even know how to give that man a taste of his own medicine, and yet, by chance, an opportunity presented itself.

As for whether other players lived or died, including Du Yong and the others, at first Qi Yang still felt a lot for them. It was as if when Yi Xinming died, those feelings had gradually faded away.

Death in the game isn’t real death; they can survive in other forms.

Everyone must die once; Qi Yang knew he was cold and selfish, but he wasn’t a savior, nor did he want to be one.

Right now, he only wanted to act according to his own wishes.

Even if the other side was a vengeful ghost or a vicious criminal, what did it matter, as long as he could make use of them.

There were still some things Qi Yang wouldn’t tell anyone else: he realized this body of his was slowly changing. His body temperature had gradually stopped matching what Cheng Ren had, of course—his heart was still beating, there was still a pulse—but his body felt much colder than before.

He opened the window; the cold wind blew in, and Qi Yang could feel the chill—no longer the bone-piercing kind.

Another thing that surprised Qi Yang the most was that when this body was injured, the wounds healed at a speed visible to the naked eye.

Qi Yang thought about why this might be, and his conclusion was with ninety-eight percent certainty that it was because of the child in his belly. The child belonged to Nan Sheng, and Qi Yang was very sure that Nan Sheng was not human, but rather a high-ranking ghostly entity in this game world.

The child had inherited Nan Sheng’s abilities, or possessed its own powers.

Strictly speaking, the child in his womb hadn’t fully formed yet, but it could already grant Qi Yang’s body healing abilities. For this alone, Qi Yang found himself starting to feel a little fond of the child.

His child—if born in the future—Qí Yáng would definitely make the child listen only to him. If the child truly turned out to be extraordinarily capable, Qí Yáng even entertained one possibility: could he end up more formidable than his father?

Judging by how Nan Sheng treated him, to be honest, Qi Yang didn’t think the man truly loved him. A ghost as powerful as him had seen all kinds of humans; it was unlikely he would fall for someone so quickly. It was far more probable that it was because of the child in his womb.

Qi Yang placed his hand on his belly and quietly said to the child, “If you can, like me, prove you have other, more powerful abilities, maybe Dad will consider letting you be born.”

Qi Yang was carrying Nan Sheng’s child, a special half-human, half-ghost being. This child’s rate of development differed from that of humans, so Qi Yang didn’t realize that the child had actually already formed by this point—equivalent to a normal five- or six-month-old infant. Inside Qi Yang’s belly, she could vaguely sense the father’s emotions, along with some of his feelings.

Dad doesn’t really like her; he always wants to get rid of her. Dad even seems a little pleased because of her. To make Dad happier and thus keep her, the baby knew she had to do something.

Qi Yang didn’t know that the half-ghost little one in his belly was exceptionally clever and cunning, secretly working hard to stay alive.

Since the incident yesterday where three players died instantly, even sitting together today, there were few smiles on anyone’s faces.

By order, today it should be Number Two who might be attacked, but Number Two appeared remarkably calm, just as before—showing no sign of imminent danger.

Others, concerned about Number Two, asked what they planned to do today; being so casually in the living room made it very easy for a ghost or monster to strike.

Number 2 took an apple and sat on the other side of the sofa, biting into it: “What’s there to be afraid of? The more you fear death, the more likely you are to die.”

“But if you don’t dodge like that, what if something really happens?” The player couldn’t understand Number 2’s lack of concern for his own safety—did this person really not fear death at all?

Of course No. 2 was afraid of dying, but he wouldn’t show it. Just because you’re afraid won’t save you when it’s your time to die — No. 2, after playing so many games, had long since seen through that.

“That’s my personal business too.” Number 2 shot the man a glance, his expression clearly saying, if you’re afraid of dying then hurry and hide—don’t bother me.

Seeing Player 2’s attitude, he realized he was being meddlesome. He stopped trying to butter up Player 2 and walked off to one side.

On the second day he stayed by himself no matter where he went. Someone he had been close to wanted to go with him to watch his back, thinking they could help each other next time they took turns, but he bluntly said not to follow him. He was afraid that if he died, he would end up dragging others down with him.

He smiled at her like that, with a look full of hidden meaning; his gaze seemed almost contagious, and those who were about to follow him stopped as well.

Number 2 had crossed paths with Qi Yang. After yesterday’s incident, Number 2 had watched everyone’s expressions; among them, Qi Yang and the man who’d taken the number 12 were remarkably calm—so calm that it gave the impression these two weren’t here to play a death game at all, but to go on a vacation.

Number 2 suddenly greeted Qi Yang very amiably, then he asked, “Which number are you? I didn’t really remember yesterday.”

“Number 15.” Qi Yang didn’t hide it; it wasn’t something that needed hiding.

“You’ve got pretty good luck to get a bead so late.” Number 2 said enviously.

“Aren’t you going to dodge?” Qi Yang asked casually.

Number 2 waved indifferently, “Dodge what? If it’s meant to come, you can’t dodge it.”

“Oh, I was thinking about something last night.” Number Two said, deliberately pausing.

Qi Yang knew this person was teasing, and he pretended to be curious as he asked, “What is it?”

“Do you think these beads can be traded?” Number 2 smiled; the smile sharpened for an instant, then immediately returned to being friendly.

“I don’t know, maybe you could give it a try.” Qi Yang smiled.

“Can you switch with me?” Number 2 still smiled; the deeper his smile, the more terrifying he seemed.

Who is Qi Yang? He isn’t afraid of ghosts or monsters, let alone ordinary humans.

“Can’t.” Qi Yang, as if unaware of any danger, refused outright.

No. 2 froze for a moment, then burst into a loud, hearty laugh.

“I find you really interesting,” Number 2 said sincerely.

Qi Yang accepted the compliment: “Someone has already said that to you.”

“Really?” Number Two smiled, then suddenly reached into his pocket and took something out.

Qi Yang lowered his eyes for a closer look — it was, astonishingly, the glass marble belonging to a player who had died yesterday.

“The 14th bead — I wonder if this one will have any effect.” Number 2 toyed with the bead between his fingers.

“We’ll find out soon enough.” Qi Yang’s words were loaded.

“Yes, I’ll know very soon.” Number 2 tucked the No.14 bead back into his pocket, together with his own No.2 bead.

“I’m going to take a steam, see you later!”

Turn

Number 2 turned and walked away immediately.

The casual figure walking away held Qi Yang’s gaze for a while.

Footsteps approached from behind, and the gaze fixed on his back was icy; Qi Yang turned his head, and the chill was gone, revealing only Nan Sheng’s gentle face.

Qi Yang’s mouth twitched slightly. He walked up to Nan Sheng and asked directly, “You don’t like me talking to other men?”

Nan Sheng raised an eyebrow, didn’t nod, and his silence was answer enough.

“If you don’t like it, why not make it so there are no other people here, how about that?” Qi Yang didn’t say it too directly, for example, to kill the other players here.

Nan Sheng smiled with indulgence: “If that’s what you want.”

Qi Yang looked into Nan Sheng’s eyes. This person seemed to have decided to stop hiding so much; the two of them both knew certain things, yet they were still pretending.

Pretending isn’t bad either—let’s see who confesses first.

“It’s not that I want to or not—I have no grievance with them.” Qi Yang did not nod. He guessed that if he did, this person might carry out the killing.

“Then let them live a little longer,” Nan Sheng said softly.

Qi Yang curved his lips into a smile and walked upstairs. He quite liked the rooftop garden up there; he enjoyed sitting inside and quietly reading.

Nan Sheng followed behind Qi Yang, looking as if he were escorting him upstairs. Seeing Qi Yang sit in a chair and begin reading, Nan Sheng turned to leave. A moment later he returned, carrying a thermos cup filled with hot water.

Qi Yang didn’t glance over even once; he enjoyed Nan Sheng’s service and continued to focus on his book.

There were many cameras in the villa. Nan Sheng had the servants constantly monitor Qi Yang’s situation, then left and returned to his own room. To outsiders it looked like Nan Sheng was taking a nap, but in fact, after entering the room he went straight to the window, his body passing through the wall, and in an instant he vanished into the vast snow.

Qi Yang read for more than two hours, then stood up to go to the bathroom. There were no cameras in the bathroom. After running the water, he washed his hands at the sink. He looked up at the clean glass mirror and, smiling at his reflection, said, “Still not coming out?”

Qi Yang stood still. After waiting for about half a minute, a figure covered in snow appeared by the window.

There was no one else reflected in the mirror, but Qi Yang could feel the stare. He turned his head, raised a friendly smile, and greeted, “Hi.”

The snowman slowly lifted its head; the frost and snow on its face cracked, revealing a ghastly pale visage—the unmistakable face of someone frozen to death.

However, Qi Yang was not afraid at all; he even took two steps toward the window.

“You… you’re not afraid of me in the least.” The snow ghost spoke, its voice like something risen from hell.

Qi Yang shook the water from his hands and smiled, “What would I be afraid of you for? Afraid you’d hurt me—do you dare?”

A hoarse laugh rasped from the snow ghost’s throat: “I can sort of see why he liked you so much—he actually broke the game’s rules so that none of the spirits could harm you in the slightest.”

Qi Yang’s pupils narrowed as he caught a single word: everyone.

“You threw me the note, said you knew everything—everything about what?” Qi Yang could pretty much guess this snow ghost was the same spirit that had tossed the note to him last night.

“Everything you want to know.” The snow ghost began to play word games with Qi Yang.

Qi Yang’s eyes darkened; he realized this snow ghost was quite clever.

“Then South Sheng’s identity—don’t tell me he’s a ghost. I already guessed that. What I want to know is other things, like why he has the power to command all the ghosts.” Qi Yang’s smile spread to his eyes, but his pupils narrowed slightly at that moment.

The Snow Ghost stared fixedly at Qi Yang. Just as Qi Yang thought the ghost might refuse to speak, it opened its mouth.

“Nan Sheng is the most powerful being in this game’s space; all the ghosts must obey his orders. He has the right to execute any ghost who disobeys him, and can effortlessly scatter their souls.” The Snow Ghost spoke these words while suppressing its hatred.

He kept himself restrained, thinking he gave nothing away, but Qi Yang’s feelings toward others—his ghostly emotions—were just as intense.

From just these few short sentences, Qi Yang could already piece together some things.

“So why did you come to me? You think Nan Sheng cares about me, so you want to get close to me and have me go to him to put in a good word for you, to ask for something?” Qi Yang asked on purpose.