"Here's the deal. You two help me with something, and in return, I'll tell you all sequence numbers after 50." Officer Huang deftly picked up a perfectly cooked spinach stem with his left hand. "Plus, I'll answer one free question—anything you want to know, if I have the answer."
"What do you need us to do?" Qing Ling asked.
"You agree first." Huang smiled. "Nothing life-threatening, I promise."
Silence.
Gao Yang stayed quiet—he had no leverage anyway. Best to maintain his "mysterious expert" act.
"You know the 1-in-10,000 odds. You know how screwed we are." Huang sighed deeply. "We're orphans in this world. Abandoned by gods."
More silence.
Huang leaned in. "Surviving this hellscape takes more than strong talents. It takes rules." His tone turned solemn. "My intel's worth its weight in gold. This deal's a steal."
"Deal." Gao Yang blurted out. His logic was simple: agree now, bail later if needed.
Qing Ling shot him a glare but didn't object.
"Smart kid." Huang produced a notepad, scribbled three notes, and folded them. "Don't blame me for being cautious. In this hell, trust gets you killed."
He handed the notes to Qing Ling, then yanked them back. "Rules: Open the first note after school tomorrow. Finish the task, open the second. Two tasks done, read the third. No peeking."
Qing Ling stuffed the notes into her uniform pocket. "When it's done, I get two questions."
"Deal." Huang stood, waving at Old Liu. "Check, please!"
That night, Gao Yang's worldview had shattered.
The 1-in-10,000 statistic made his once-cozy family feel like a house of horrors.
From his host's childhood memories, Grandpa was definitely a beast—though what kind remained unclear.
Grandma sharing Grandpa's room? Probably a beast too.
As for Dad, Mom, and little sister…
Gao Yang's chest ached. A desperate, irrational hope lingered: What if they're human? The odds were lottery-level, but twelve years of love couldn't be erased.
If that "mental patient" hadn't crashed into him on his 18th birthday, if he'd lived in blissful ignorance—would that have been happier?
Living a lie isn't tragic… until the lie breaks.
Now, hell is other people.
One misstep meant death.
3 AM. The family slept. Tomorrow's scolding could wait—tonight, he needed to steel himself.
Exhausted, Gao Yang sank into the bathtub. The hexagram on his wrist glowed faintly. This time, he willed it mentally: Enter system.
[Beep—]
[System activated]
[27 new Luck Points acquired. Total: 30. Allocate?]
—Use.
[Attribute panel unlocked]
[STR: 11 → 17]
[AGI: 11 → 17]
[END: 12 → 18]
[VIT: 12 → 18]
[INT: 10 → 17]
[CHA: 10 → 16]
[LUK: 0 → 30]
*—Wait, 6-point boost across all stats for 30 Luck? Not bad!*
[Hidden feature detected. Unlock?]
—DO IT!
[Insufficient Luck]
—Useless trash!
[System exit]
[Beep—]
Morning came with a maternal lecture: "Almost college exams, yet you vanish overnight? No calls, no texts!"
Gao Yang blamed Wang Zikai's birthday karaoke.
Mom exploded. "That delinquent? You'll end up like him!"
Dad, munching fried dough sticks, disagreed. "His family's loaded! Networking matters, son."
"Stop poisoning his mind!" Mom snapped.
"Just saying—rich friends open doors." Dad winked. "Our boy's smart enough not to copy his worst traits, right?"
"...I'm late." Gao Yang fled, heart heavy.
Are the hugs, the scoldings… all fake?
But Li Weiwei had seemed real too—until she wasn't.
School passed uneventfully. Zero interaction with Qing Ling.
After class, they met in a blind-spot alley. Qing Ling pulled two black hoodies from her bag, plus caps and masks. "Change."
"Here?!"
"You want a dressing room?" She stripped her uniform with reptilian efficiency—pale neck, sharp collarbones—forcing Gao Yang to turn away, fumbling with his buttons.
Three minutes later, two shadowy figures emerged.
Qing Ling unfolded the first note.