SES Chapter 100 Part 2

When the game was over, she simply grabbed another handful of tokens, feeding them in one by one. The silver discs glinted between her fingers.

Huo Zihong whispered, “She said she was annoyed, didn’t want to talk to us, so she just needed something to distract herself.”

“Does she still remember me?” Luo Ren asked.

Huo Zihong looked at him, surprised he would even ask that. “Of course. She remembers you, and Yiwan-san, and the newcomer Hongsha. She hasn’t lost her memory.”

He Ruihua added from the side, “But her feelings about you may not be the same.”

Then he said, “Do you want to go in and see her? The door isn’t locked. Just turn the handle.”

Luo Ren’s eyes settled on the doorknob—bronze, polished smooth from being turned too many times.

He hesitated for a moment, then stepped back and sat in one of the chairs behind him.

Through the one-way glass, his gaze never left Mu Dai’s face.

Every blink, every raised brow, every pressed lip, every flicker of irritation.

A lover’s eyes are the sharpest and the cruelest. In the Mu Dai before him, there was not a trace of Xiaokoudai.

The girl who liked to curl up against him, kiss him softly, pout and call his name, blush yet say firmly, “I like you.”

All the softness and sweetness he loved felt like they’d been swept away by a storm, leaving behind only sharp, hard edges.

It was like taking a bullet to the chest. Of all the hardships in finding her, this moment was the hardest to endure.

He Ruihua sighed and sat down beside him.

“You see? One moment you’re the fiercest in protecting her, but when you finally see her, you’re also the one least able to accept her. Just like love itself—intense, yet fragile.”

Luo Ren bristled. He hated being analyzed or dissected like that.

But He Ruihua went on, oblivious. “In situations like this, acceptance usually comes in the order of family > friends > lovers.

“For family, blood is thicker than water. No matter what happens—madness, foolishness, dementia—they’ll still accept you.

“For friends, there may be hesitation, but as long as the person hasn’t committed some grave evil or broken moral principles, the foundation of friendship remains. You can still be friends.”

He stopped there, without spelling out lovers.

But Luo Ren understood. He knew exactly what the man was implying—and what his own problem was.

He hadn’t fallen in love with Mu Dai.

He had fallen in love with Xiaokoudai.

The woman before him felt like a stranger. He couldn’t just shift his feelings and accept her. In fact, he even felt an unreasonable resentment and hostility toward her.

He thought: Because of her, my girl is gone.

A wild urge surged in him to burst into the room, grab her, and demand:

“Where did you hide Xiaokoudai?”

Early in the morning, Yiwansan went to the bathroom. When he tried to go back to sleep, he couldn’t rest easy. Maybe he didn’t really fall back asleep at all—too many thoughts kept tangling with his dreams.

He dreamed of the wild woman, holding a stone and sketching on a rock wall. When he walked closer, he saw she was drawing the scene of her death at the villagers’ hands: struggling helplessly at the bottom of the trap. He was in the drawing too—arms crossed, watching with a cold sneer.

Yiwansan broke out in a cold sweat, panicked, denying it over and over: “It wasn’t like that!”

The wild woman smiled at him, then her expression twisted. She lunged and grabbed his throat. A crack sounded—

Then he dreamed of Luoren. Yiwansan went up to ask, “Did you find the little boss lady? Is she still getting treatment?”

Luoren didn’t answer. He only pointed upward. Yiwansan tilted his head back and saw countless windows in the wall above him. Every window showed Mudai’s silhouette. Then the one in the center creaked open, and Mudai leaned out, giving him a meaningful smile.

Crackling firecrackers—Phoenix Tower was opening. Somehow, the firecrackers sparked a blaze. In the blink of an eye, the tower was swallowed by flames—

“Brother San? Brother San?”

Cao Yanhua shook Yiwansan’s shoulders roughly, calling his name again and again, shaking him like pounding rice.

When Yiwansan woke up, he didn’t scold Cao Yanhua. He was too relieved to have escaped the nightmare. Still, he couldn’t help thinking these days had been seriously unlucky.

Maybe it was time to visit a temple, burn some paper offerings, toss a pair of shoes to ward off evil, or at least fly a kite to blow away the bad luck.

Seeing Yiwansan staring blankly, Cao Yanhua waved his hand in front of his eyes like he was summoning his soul back.

Yiwansan muttered, “You crazy or what?”

“I saw it,” Cao Yanhua said.

“What did you see?” Yiwansan frowned.

“The dirt! The dirt, don’t you remember?” Cao Yanhua glared at him, exasperated.

After retrieving the third cursed slip, everyone let out a sigh of relief, the way students feel when they finish finals and finally get to rest.

And it really had drained them.

Mudai’s car accident, Yan Hongsha’s family tragedy, the others barely escaping with their lives—naturally, their obsession with collecting the cursed slips had cooled off.

Why chase them down at all? This whole business was vague and dangerous, full of close calls, no sense of accomplishment, and no motivation.

Only Cao Yanhua, maybe driven by Virgo-grade perfectionism, couldn’t rest until he gathered all seven.

So, he stared at the dirt.

Dirt paths, sandy ground, clay soil—anywhere he found it, he studied it like it was sacred. He even volunteered to sweep constantly, raising clouds of dust with each stroke, waiting for it to settle before sweeping again.

Once, a bar customer pointed at him and asked Yiwansan, “Hey, is your busboy… all there?”

He tapped his temple while speaking, worried.

Then he added, “You know, people these days live under a lot of pressure. You never know who’s going to snap. Don’t take it lightly. Early treatment saves trouble later—better safe than sorry!”

That guy was probably from an ad agency.

Still, persistence pays off. Finally, Cao Yanhua saw something.

Yiwansan sat up lazily. “So, what did you see?”

Cao Yanhua hesitated, struggling for words.

“I was just out front, at the flower bed by the bar. Uncle Zhang mentioned replanting for the new season, so I figured I’d loosen the soil ahead of time. I grabbed a spade and started digging…”

He’d been training lately. Maybe it wasn’t miraculous, but at least his body was fit and healthy. Digging soil was nothing for him.

The morning breeze was gentle, and tourists strolled by. A girl in a short skirt had hers blown up by the wind, and he even snuck a little whistle before stomping the spade into the earth and driving it down.

Yiwansan had no patience for his rambling setup. “And then?”

Cao Yanhua swallowed, still shaken. “I saw a hole.”

Yiwansan looked at him like he was crazy. But Cao Yanhua, oblivious, kept a straight face.

“You idiot!” Yiwansan snapped. “Of course you saw a hole—you just dug one with a spade!”

Cao Yanhua shivered. “No, not like that.”

It was dark red, like flesh. Wrinkled, like skin. Rising and falling with a pulse.

Just hearing the description made goosebumps rise along Yiwansan’s arms.

“And then?”

“And then it was like… wind. Can you picture it? Wind, coming up out of that hole. It stank, like blood.” Cao Yanhua faltered, running out of words.

Then suddenly—it was gone. When he blinked and looked again, it was just the loose soil he’d dug up, nothing strange at all. Sunlight streamed down, a bit of dust drifting in the air.

Almost like…

Almost like something really had exhaled from underground.