Chapter 17: The Red Embroidered Shoes

Although Ji Linmo knew that everything in the game was predetermined and that no rules would change simply because Player 403 happened to be male this time, he still felt an eerie discomfort at the thought of spending the night with a half-human, half-ghost male NPC in the bridal chamber.

“An NPC…” Ji Linmo recalled the scenes from the past few days when he’d encountered Qin Feng. The boy seemed to have lost every trace of his former memories. Now, as an NPC, he blended perfectly into the role of the “Ghost Bride,” his own personality erased.

—The wedding procession, the bridal escort, the bridal chamber.

The “Ghost Bride” would always be the cross-dressing “Ghost Groom,” arriving every night to complete the entire wedding ceremony. The cycle repeated endlessly, just like the NPCs in other horror games, forever trapped in the dungeon’s loop.

With this thought, Ji Linmo rubbed his brow.

“If this is really the case, then things get complicated—there’s no way to bring him back to the real world…”

He shook his head, deciding not to dwell on matters so distant. For now, he needed to focus on surviving tonight.

According to the note, Zhu Jun and his group were planning to steal his Lightning Whip. The note was most likely slipped to him by Zhang Lanlan, making it fairly trustworthy.

“It seems last time’s lesson wasn’t nearly enough…”

Ji Linmo’s eyes darkened. This time, he would show no mercy.

If others wronged him, he would repay them in kind.

This was one of Ji Linmo’s principles.

Time ticked by. At exactly eleven o’clock, faint footsteps echoed down the hallway outside.

Ji Linmo stood alert at the door, watching closely.

Sure enough, it was Zhu Jun’s group.

Zhu Jun, Liu Bi, and Wang Dazhi swaggered up, unlocked Room 402 with a key, and entered as if it were their own.

But the real occupant of Room 402, Zhang Lanlan, was nowhere to be seen.

“Big Sister was very obedient and finished all the pork rib soup my mother made!” Nie Haohao’s words echoed in his mind.

The pork rib soup was poisoned. If Zhang Lanlan had truly drunk it, she would have long since perished.

At this thought, Ji Linmo’s expression remained impassive. He glanced at the clock above the door one last time—the hands pointed to 11:05, ticking steadily forward.

It was after eleven at night. According to the final rule in the Residents’ Guide:

“Curfew is from midnight to 4 a.m. every night. Residents are welcome to leave their rooms and enjoy a delicious treat.”

Zhu Jun and his group could only take action either now or after five in the morning.

This rule targeted two groups.

First, it applied to the players: curfew for players was from midnight to 4 a.m.

Second, it referred to the original residents of Ruolan Community—or perhaps something else entirely. They were allowed to roam during these hours and feast on the players.

When all was quiet once more outside his door, Ji Linmo lay back on the bed, feigning sleep.

Tonight promised to be sleepless.

But whether it was the “Ghost Bride” or Zhu Jun’s group who came first, he was confident he could handle it.

Tick, tick…

The empty room was shrouded in silence, broken only by the clock’s steady advance.

Dong! Dong! Dong!

The clock struck three times—midnight had arrived.

Ji Linmo pulled out the item Old Master Ma had given him. According to the old man, it could only be opened at the stroke of midnight.

It was a small, irregularly shaped trinket, tightly sealed in a black plastic pouch, its edges hard and angular to the touch.

What could it be?

Once unwrapped, Ji Linmo was surprised.

Old Master Ma had given him a gold ring.

[Old Master Ma’s Wedding Ring]

[Item Quality: Moderate]

[Item Description: This is the wedding ring Ma Jianguo placed on his beloved’s finger when he proposed years ago—a token full of meaning. Who knows how he managed to steal it back from her?]

Frowning, Ji Linmo turned the little ring over in his hands.

He couldn’t understand why Old Master Ma would give him something like this. It was the kind of common, miscellaneous item found in dungeons, with no practical function and usually no use in the game.

Why was Old Master Ma so certain he would need it tonight?

He quietly stowed the ring and lay back down.

But, to Ji Linmo’s surprise, the Ghost Bride didn’t come that night.

From midnight until four in the morning, the Ghost Bride never appeared.

“How strange… She didn’t come?”

“Could I have been wrong? Maybe the Ghost Bride doesn’t visit every night—perhaps there’s some trigger?”

Just as Ji Linmo was puzzling over this, a soft click sounded from outside the door.

Someone had entered.

Holding his breath, Ji Linmo gripped his whip beneath the covers.

It was Zhu Jun’s group.

He wasn’t sure how they had managed to pick the lock, but at five in the morning, they were the only ones likely to break into his room.

Wait—was it just one person? Why were the footsteps so light?

Ji Linmo listened closely, uncertainty rising in his heart.

The footsteps were incredibly soft, barely brushing the floor with the tips of their toes. If not for his keen hearing, he might not have heard anything at all.

Here they came!

Sensing his visitor reach the bedside, Ji Linmo kept up his act, feigning deep sleep, ready to spring up and strike with lethal force.

A faint rustling reached his ears.

A pair of cold, rough hands slipped under the blanket.

Were they trying to steal something from his pockets?

Ji Linmo stayed perfectly still, curious to see what the intruder would do.

But in the next instant, his eyes widened.

The hands slid further up, past his shirt, brushing over his lower abdomen, gripping his waist with surprising strength.

What…?

The intruder’s grip was firm, and their rough hands lingered—whether by accident or intent—caressing his waist and belly.

Ji Linmo’s mind froze for a split second, his body stiffening in shock, every muscle tensing.

“Hah—”

As if sensing the sudden change in his body, the intruder let out a soft laugh—a clear, clean voice, as pure as the first trickle of melted snow in early spring.

Something was wrong. This wasn’t Zhu Jun!

Unable to stand it any longer, Ji Linmo threw off the blanket, wrapping it around the intruder, and aimed a powerful kick at their chest.

He’d put his full strength into that blow. Anyone struck in the chest like that would surely spit blood and pass out on the spot.

But just as his foot grazed the blanket, a pair of embroidered red shoes caught his eye, halting him mid-motion.

Brilliant, vivid, exquisitely patterned red embroidered shoes—massive, like two out-of-place boats—sat upon the intruder’s feet.

His gaze traveled up from the shoes to a blood-red hem.

The Ghost Bride!