Chapter 27 – Bluffing Through

The blackness around him was erased as if by an eraser, and color rippled back in.

Golden vines danced like phantoms before his eyes, then dissolved into motes of light in an instant.

Qi Si blinked and found himself still standing in the studio, the reek of blood sharp and unmistakable.

In the upper-left corner of his vision hovered a line of text.

【Your next instance will begin in 71:59:59】

Sandwiched between the characters was a string of ever-changing numbers—presumably the countdown Leaf had mentioned in the instance.

Three days to rest and prepare—not long, not short.

The Eerie Game’s instances didn’t seem to consume real time; Qi Si pulled out his phone and saw it was 9 p.m. on March 9, 2035.

He looked at the corpse on the floor and sighed in resignation. “Troublesome.”

The man’s face inspired no desire to make a specimen, and dumping him in the wild risked discovery by the Security Bureau.

As a conscientious citizen, Qi Si had no wish to add unnecessary headaches for the Bureau.

The body had to be handled with care.

The thrill the Eerie Game brought was already fading, replaced by the pressing problems of reality.

Qi Si nimbly untied the ropes, dragged the corpse onto the dissection table, and selected a cleaver from the tool rack.

For an instant a hazy memory flickered through his mind like a spark of inspiration.

He caught it, lifted the corpse’s right hand, and held it before his eyes.

On the little finger sat a black ring.

The ring was a poor fit, secured with several loops of white filament; its jet surface bore a twisted butterfly carved into the letter “S”.

It looked familiar.

In the instance, Chang Xu had just shown him an identical one.

“Sera?” Qi Si murmured the name and realized with dismay that things had become more complicated.

The man he had killed—Liu Ajiu—belonged to the Sera Guild.

Judging by Chang Xu’s tone, this so-called Sera Guild was not to be underestimated; who knew whether they might seek revenge for some intangible sense of face.

That was the trouble with humans.

Grudges, grievances, frictions, resentments—countless sparks could ignite a feud and plunge them into a vortex of blood-for-blood vengeance.

Since that was the case, he might as well be thorough.

Qi Si shattered the bones, folded the corpse into a rectangular mass, dragged a faded suitcase from a corner, and stuffed the unrecognisable thing inside.

He zipped it shut; only a few faint bloodstains seeped through the fabric—nothing noticeable unless one looked closely.

Still, he wiped the entire zipper with a handkerchief until the yellowed strip turned uniformly grey and the blood blended with grime, then tucked the cloth away satisfied.

Bob’s pig farm was closed at this hour; it wouldn’t open until eight the next morning.

Qi Si sent a text to announce tomorrow’s visit.

Then he dialled “Friend” in his contacts: “Jin Yusheng, do me a favour…”

While speaking, he soaked a rag, knelt, and scrubbed the stains from the floor.

He was fastidious, accustomed to leaving any place he lingered spotless.

It was a habit he had cultivated over the past six years to minimise trouble.

The blood diluted to a pale pink film under the damp cloth, then was absorbed thread by thread until no trace remained.

He tossed the rag and his blood-spattered shirt into the bin, tied the black bag shut—no visible flaws.

From a shelf he took a clean shirt and slipped it on, loose and casual, looking utterly ordinary.

By the time everything was done it was half past ten.

Qi Si dragged the suitcase stuffed with body parts, pushed open the warehouse door as if nothing were amiss, and walked into the pouring rain.

For a moment reality and the instance seemed linked, as though some colossal monster lifted its head from viscous waters.

Fortunately, Qi Si was used to Jiangcheng’s fickle March weather.

He stepped back, fished out a black umbrella from the clutter, opened it, and melted into the endless curtain of rain.

Police cars flashed along the deserted eastern outskirts; their lights rippled across oil-slicked puddles.

“Lost him around here. Damn cameras chose now to fail. Those Security Bureau leeches skim fat every day but never do a lick of real work…”

The old detective in uniform popped a stick of gum into his mouth. “Old Mu’s making a mountain out of a molehill. Only one rat left—let him flee to another district and let their precinct worry.”

“A collar’s still a collar,” the young woman leaning on the cruiser said with a faint smile. “Mainly, his behaviour’s bizarre. Chief Mu suspects he’s carrying Puppet Threads. The Fifth Lab’s been short of research samples.”

“They aim high but achieve little—five years on the Team Ring and all they say is ‘missing key materials’. And now they want to study Puppet Threads?”

The old man chewed gum, dismissive. “Besides, Xiao Ning, honestly, it’s been so long. Those samples—if they ever existed—have probably been destroyed and recycled a dozen times.”

The woman kept smiling. “No matter what, we’re at the final stage; we still need to give an account.”

…Qi Si had barely left the warehouse when, a few steps out, he spotted police cars converging in the distance and instantly turned away.

(404 not found)

He threaded through twisting alleys, and after about a hundred meters, seeing no one notice, calmly reached to lift the yellow police tape.

“Hold it!” a sharp shout sounded behind him.

A disheveled middle-aged officer, cigarette clamped in his mouth, jumped from a patrol car parked in the shadows and walked over.

Qi Si let go of the tape and half-turned, speaking first: “Officer, what happened here?”

He wore a timid, bewildered look, as innocent and honest as any ordinary citizen.

The officer stopped on the far side of the tape, flicked ash off his uniform, and sized Qi Si up with narrowed eyes. “Name?”

“Qi Si. ‘Qi’ as in ‘Qi Chu,”Si’ as in’siwen.'”

“Sounds familiar. What do you do?”

Of course it sounded familiar—he was a regular in the interview room. Qi Si gave an embarrassed smile. “Taxidermist. I just held a county-level exhibition the day before yesterday; it made the papers.”

He pointed back toward the warehouse. “That’s my studio. I’ve got bad nerves, can’t stand noise, so I moved the workshop out to the suburbs.”

The officer accepted the explanation without suspicion, pulled up a photo on his phone, and showed it to him. “Seen this man?”

In the picture a stubbled man stared blankly ahead; a pale scar ran from the corner of his right eye to his lip, twisting the squarish face into something off-balance.

It was Liu Ajiu!

In under half a second Qi Si sorted the cards he held:

—A friend had already hacked the surveillance in this area; the nearest intact camera was at a bus stop half a mile away.

—Liu Ajiu had only been here two hours, far short of the time needed to file a missing-person report; when killed, he hadn’t made much noise.

The police shouldn’t know he was dead; if they were looking for him, they likely saw him as a suspect, not a victim… Qi Si frowned in pretended effort. “I’ve been shut in my studio all day, didn’t see anyone… Someone did come the day before yesterday, but my sleep’s been a mess lately, I’m muddled—can’t be sure…”

The officer waved him off the moment he heard “the day before yesterday.

He clapped Qi Si’s shoulder and offered kindly advice: “Head home early. Don’t leave the county these next few days—outside isn’t safe.”

Qi Si glanced left and right, curiosity rising in his eyes. “Comrade, what’s going on? Can you tell me?”

“Nope.” The man exhaled smoke, his Beijing accent curling. “Some things—the more you know, the more dangerous they get.”

Qi Si gave a soft laugh and asked no more.

He lifted the tape with one hand, rolled his suitcase with the other, umbrella tucked under his chin, and stepped past the officer.

Five paces on, the man suddenly called: “What’s in the suitcase?”

Qi Si stopped and looked back. “Specimens—half-finished ones. I’m taking them home to finish.”

“Mind if I take a look?”

Qi Si lowered his gaze. “Not very convenient—they’re freshly shaped; a draft could ruin them… Still, if you insist, I can open it.”

“Forget it. Get home early. Sorry to trouble you.” The officer waved and turned away.

Gratitude and compliance spread across Qi Si’s lips; the mockery in his eyes dissolved into the smile, impossible to separate.

“No trouble at all—working a night shift must be tough.”

He nodded politely, kept an even pace, and stepped through puddles into the distance.

The rain kept falling, pattering on the umbrella and deepening the night’s quiet.

Rounding a corner, Qi Si stopped, suddenly feeling the chill, yet a spot in his chest emitted faint warmth.

He reached for his neck: a blood-red pendant hung there, now quietly heating up.

【Name: Rose Heart】

【Type: Item】

【Effect:…】

So an item could be brought out of the game?

Qi Si untied the garbage bag lashed to his suitcase handle and rummaged through a crumpled shirt—nothing.

“Pocket Watch of Fate didn’t come out—only Rose Heart?…Understandable; reversing time by a minute would be too outrageous in reality.”

Under ghostly streetlights the black-haired youth narrowed his eyes in delight. “Looks like the Eerie Game is even more interesting than I thought…”

…【Note】 The real-world part of this book borrows the setting of ‘Fan Zui’ and ‘Zhou Lin’: the globe is unified under a Federation, and nations have been reduced to counties.