Players, Please Board the Train

Compared to the other boy, Liu Yi’s file was far more detailed, especially since she became famous—where she went, where she sketched, who she met, and even candid photos of her checking in at various food establishments.

If she were an ordinary painter, absolutely no one would pay this much attention to her after the player progression began. But her paintings could bring players inner peace, and plenty of people were willing to buy information about her. She experienced a kidnapping incident almost every single month. Someone had even proposed marriage, wanting her to serve as the family’s mascot, producing one painting per year.

That marriage proposal didn’t succeed, because half a month after the conditions were put forward, the party in question was assassinated—some players who were mentally dependent on Jiangjiang harbored a strange possessive desire for her.

This wasn’t an isolated case. Subsequent players who made similar proposals were assassinated until they were forced to flee into dungeons for safety. The players who openly surrounded Jiangjiang were numerous, but those operating behind the scenes seemed even more so. They weren’t controlled by anyone; they completely self-organized to clear away obstacles around her—because given Jiangjiang’s status and abilities, she could hardly refuse threats from others, so these suitors were treated as obstacles that needed to be eliminated.

All in all, this behavior was like a massive brainwashing cult, though this one was more sophisticated. It didn’t require Jiangjiang, the ”deity,” to say anything or hint at anything. Her followers would remain as devout as pilgrims, and there were even urban legends about people taking pride in protecting Jiangjiang from the shadows.

”...I don’t want to go out today. Let’s have braised beef for lunch—I haven’t had it in ages.” The protagonist capable of stirring up a small-scale player storm was currently discussing the lunch menu with someone, casually complaining about the side dishes in the same meal from last time.

Song Xu, the bodyguard-turned-nanny, noted everything down one by one. ”I’ll personally pick out the ingredients later.”

Bian Yongyi, who had long since lost any room to speak, instinctively glanced at Xu Huo. Even the Rich Kid didn’t eat with this much fuss.

Xu Huo showed no reaction whatsoever, and even expressed his desire to have some Vegetable Soup.

Song Xu glared at him darkly for a few seconds, then added Vegetable Soup to the menu.Bian Yongyi secretly gave Xu Huo a thumbs up.

After breakfast, Song Xu went out to buy groceries. Before leaving, he specifically instructed several bodyguards to protect Jiangjiang every single step of the way, lest anyone with ill intentions make a move to harm her.

Bian Yongyi felt unprecedented pressure, because even when he went to the restroom alone, someone followed him.

Xu Huo was invited into Jiangjiang’s studio.

Most of the paintings in the studio were covered with canvas cloth. Jiangjiang said, ”These are all unfinished.”

”That’s quite a lot. Why not finish them? No inspiration?” Xu Huo swept his gaze across the room—there were nearly thirty pieces.

”Once a painting is finished, it gets sold.” Jiangjiang said, ”I don’t like that.”

”No one in Zone 009 should dare to make things difficult for you.”

”But the people who come to buy paintings all have their own troubles.” Jiangjiang smiled. ”They suffer in the game too, and many of them have contributed to Zone 009. I can’t just ignore them completely.”

”I can only do this small thing... but painting every day is indeed exhausting, and some paintings aren’t suitable for others to see.”

As she spoke, she lifted the cloth covering the easel at the center of the studio. This one was clearly a work in progress—only a layer of black had been painted on it, barely outlining the silhouette of a figure. Nothing else.

”This is my self-portrait.” Jiangjiang reached out and touched the figure in the painting. ”I put all the good parts into the paintings I sell, leaving only the bad parts for myself.”

”Everyone has a dark side.”

She turned around, gazing at Xu Huo with a smile. ”You don’t think I’m overrated, do you?”

”No. I’m not your fan.” Xu Huo said flatly. ”Besides, I already told you—I have no eye for art.”

Jiangjiang chuckled softly. ”This is the first time I’ve met someone who has no reaction to my paintings. Aside from players, lots of ordinary people say they can see something in them, though I don’t know what they see.”

Xu Huo’s gaze shifted to the other covered canvases. ”Can I look at these?”

Jiangjiang shook her head. ”Unfinished paintings can’t be shown.”

”How about I paint one for you?” she suddenly suggested.

Xu Huo narrowed his eyes, walked over to her side, and stopped her hand as she reached for the paintbrush. He smiled and said, ”I noticed a strange flower growing in your courtyard.”

”Oh, you mean that purplish-red one? That’s a wormhole flower.” Jiangjiang put down the brush, walked to the window, and pulled open the curtains. ”People gave them to me. Apparently, it’s a plant that can indicate the evolution level of a game partition. The more red parts it has, the deeper Zone 009’s evolution has progressed. Haven’t you seen one before?”

”No.” Xu Huo’s expression didn’t change. ”I’m just a bit curious why it’s called a wormhole flower.”

Jiangjiang laughed. ”What else would you call it if not a wormhole flower? It’s just a name. Besides, every game partition under a large wormhole point draws energy from that wormhole point to evolve. The wormhole flower is highly indicative and very convenient—one glance tells you what evolutionary stage a game partition is at.”

”By the way, a player once told me a joke—that some game partition, after learning about wormhole flowers, mass-poisoned all the flowering plants to prevent other partitions from knowing their strength. In the end, the soil and groundwater got polluted, and a large number of ordinary people in the partition fell ill.”

”An entire game partition full of people being that stupid? If you want to know if you can beat someone, just try it and find out. Or just bring a pot of the flower over—problem solved.”

”It could also have been a large-scale poisoning incident.” Xu Huo picked up the thread. ”If a large number of ordinary people die, the foundation for nurturing players is destroyed. The fewer players there are, the weaker the partition becomes. Those who have already become players might leave due to their homeland’s poverty and chaos, and those who have just become Evolvers might not survive long enough to grow strong without the protection and guidance of their seniors.”

”This way, destroying or swallowing up a game partition is just a matter of time.”

Jiangjiang stared at him, and only after a long moment said, ”Is the truth that cruel? I’d rather it were just a joke.”

”It’s precisely because the truth is cruel that so many people seek peace of mind in your paintings.” Xu Huo smiled at her. ”From that perspective, no matter which partition you go to, you’d be treated as an honored guest. Are you interested in becoming a player?”

Jiangjiang let out a helpless laugh. ”Zone 009 already tested me a long time ago. My constitution isn’t suitable for becoming a player. Besides, this world is too cruel to players. I’d rather be an ordinary person—painting every day suits me just fine.”

Xu Huo’s smile was faint. ”That way of thinking isn’t wrong either.”

”You’re quite impressive,” Jiangjiang turned the topic back to him. ”Do you like games?”