Xiao Gui’an stared at the wooden crate ahead that looked like a coffin, silently counting down the remaining ti in his head.
He didn’t really understand why the Acting Director insisted on bringing the boy Xiao Fan here.
Was he picked at random? Or had it always been like this?
There wasn’t much interaction between her and Teacher Tang; any orphan could have been chosen by them.
So why did they happen to pick that particular boy?
A coincidence?
Not necessarily.
The casual familiarity they inadvertently displayed—the kind that cos from doing sothing a thousand tis—didn’t feel fake.
The Acting Director hadn’t shown up again.
Xiao Gui’an didn’t think she’d stayed away out of fear of the Writer’s hierarchical status, nor did he chalk it up to overconfidence.
He’d noticed that strange expression when she left in a hurry; though he appeared indifferent, he had seen everything.
Sothing must have been preventing her from coming back.
For example, that bunch of keys and that expensive silver watch.
Were those the Acting Director’s?
Or had she “taken” them from their true owner?
Set the keys aside for a mont—the silver watch looked old but well cared for, with little wear. You could tell its owner treasured it.
Yet there were a few very fine scratches, not old—clearly new.
Its tikeeping also deviated slightly from the clocks around this orphanage.
What caused that?
Either the Acting Director had suddenly changed her taste and disliked the watch, or the watch never belonged to her; if it wasn’t hers, she would be careless with it.
Left lying around, bumped and scratched, it would naturally show those marks.
Using sothing that isn’t yours always cos with a price, doesn’t it?
“Ti”…
“Eyes”…
Xiao Gui’an already had a feeling about these differences.
The first rule seed to apply to everything in the orphanage.
Even NPCs in the instance—whether ghost teachers or ghost students—were bound by ti.
The second rule was a little different; it truly targeted players, requiring them to act and not show any cracks in their performance.
Why this discrepancy?
Maybe two different forces were playing against each other behind this orphanage.
One belonged to the original eerie rules, the other was an intruder.
If his guess about the “eyes” in rule two was right, they were those black crows.
They were everywhere in the orphanage but easy to overlook.
When he first appeared at the orphanage periter as the Writer, that flock of black birds had flown up and settled on the sharp railings to watch him.
Later, why had Teacher Tang been able to intercept them perfectly at the student canteen door?
Because they had been watched the whole way—soone had been directing Teacher Tang to co.
Probably so.
When he suppressed that B-grade ghost with his hierarchical status.
When he led the orphans back to the teacher dormitory.
When Teacher Xu had abruptly stopped talking that morning.
If one paid attention, one would find the shadow of crows in each of those monts.
Those creatures that seed always to accompany the darkness appeared in nearly every corner of the orphanage.
Their blood-red eyes, hidden among branches, looked like patrolling machines trying to monitor every movent.
Only in closed, dim corridors did it seem possible to escape the scrutiny of these two sets of rules.
As for who was controlling the crows, the answer was beginning to reveal itself.
He went around to the outside of an office building and found so leftover “clues” on the windowsill outside the Director’s office.
Compared to the other windows, more black feathers had fallen there; the sill bore bits of pecked flesh, and countless small claw marks were densely scattered above.
All of this proved everything.
This eerie instance was indeed complex.
There were still many details Xiao Gui’an hadn’t unraveled.
He would talk with Xu Zisheng a little more tonight.
Let the other guy rack his brain over so of it.
Without a second night out, he couldn’t completely uncover the orphanage’s mysteries.
Most importantly, he had to find that “most obedient child.”
The information he currently possessed was scattered; further exploration was needed to link it all together.
Three hours passed.
The Writer gently set the jade flute in his hand down and let it dissolve into points of light.
At that mont the rules seed to finally quiet; there was no movent at all.
He stepped forward, and before he could reach to pull the wooden door open, the person inside pushed it open from within.
The Writer only saw a small figure, head bowed, stumble forward and lunge at him as if their foot were injured.
Xiao Gui’an bent slightly and caught the boy, preventing him from falling.
This was his first close contact with this gloomy, reclusive child.
Compared to the other orphans, Xiao Fan really wasn’t willing to get close to him.
He patted the boy’s back lightly and said gently, “You’re with , it’s okay.”
Hearing this, the boy clutched the black-haired youth’s sleeve even tighter in response.
Maybe the boy simply wasn’t good at expressing himself.
He probably didn’t dislike him, right?
Although he understood the boy in his arms was truly a ghost, to Xiao Gui’an now there wasn’t much difference between ghosts and humans.
The boy’s body trembled slightly and felt very cold, like a snowy night.
“You all right? Let check you—”
The boy shook his head gently and curled deeper into the Writer’s arms; his limbs felt heavier, requiring more effort to move.
“...Is there still ti?...”
“...No ti...”
Xiao Gui’an heard the boy murmur those lines twice and wasn’t sure if he’d misheard.
“Do you want to tell sothing?”
Faced with such patient questioning, Xiao Fan said nothing.
After a long while, his condition stabilized.
He stiffly released the person in front of him, looked down, and saw the ssy paint on the youth’s sleeve—the beautiful light shirt was ruined.
He bit his lip twice and, in a hoarse voice, said, “I’m sorry...”
“Thank you...”
The gentle, refined young man smiled slightly and ruffled the boy’s hair, “It’s fine...”
The Writer straightened up and reached to take the boy’s hand again, but the boy lightly avoided it; he seed to slip back into his original aloof state.
Perhaps he felt more comfortable that way— the Writer had noticed this—so they kept a distance that was neither too close nor too far.
Darkness had already descended over the orphanage; only dim lights flickered around. This ti was very close to when Xiao Gui’an had co yesterday.
It was empty; all he could hear were the faint sounds of wind and footsteps.
They walked like that and soon arrived at the student canteen.
The light outside the canteen seed even dimr; the air felt heavy and oppressive.
The Writer pushed the canteen door open for the boy; two rusted bells hanging on the door jingled.
The clear sound imdiately drew many gazes; when people saw the Writer, many seed to sigh with relief.
Xiao Gui’an looked at the filthy dishes with disgusting food inside; it seed even worse than yesterday—he vaguely thought he saw wire scrubbers among the dishes.
Orphans were not allowed to leave their seats before finishing their als.
A few friends glanced hurriedly at Xiao Fan; after confirming he was all right, they imdiately looked down again.
Xu Zisheng, after glancing up, also lowered his eyes.
Why did the Writer take so long? How co he’s only back now?
What happened during that ti?
They’d probably get a chance to ask later.
They definitely had to go on another night out tonight; the question was whether the Writer would go with them this ti.
The “it” the Cleaner had ntioned should be that most obedient child.
If they found its phone tonight, they could slowly deduce its identity bit by bit from the ssages inside.
The post-dinner routine was almost the sa as yesterday.
But this ti the Writer didn’t go night-walking with Xu Zisheng; he said he wanted to investigate sothing on his own.
To ensure both parties gathered information, Xu Zisheng watched expressionlessly as the girl holding the doll sat beside him.
Yang Qianqian, assigned as their watcher, would act with him.
Cheng He went to the security booth at the back gate to check for information.
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