Cat 139: Exchanging Information

Chapter 139: Exchanging Information

Lan Mo and Shi Yan followed Yan Jiyun. Though not as fast as he was, they arrived in time to discover the drowned student by the lake.

Yan Jiyun hadn’t forgotten his main quest—there was much to do, including finding Professor Qu in instance B, though he still didn’t know which role Qu played here.

He could investigate in parallel: as he followed the trail of the deceased, he would seek out Professor Qu. The in-game NPCs had a great deal of autonomy, but each followed a personal route, with only the details shifting according to character.

From the crowd, Yan Jiyun learned the identity of the dead student. Like Jiang Shiwen in instance A, the round-faced classmate’s name was clear: Yang Pingping, a senior (Year 3), a regular student of average academics.

But there was nothing else about Yang Pingping in the crowd’s murmur.

Lan Mo and Shi Yan, both students, slipped easily into the rhythm of an ordinary day, eating breakfast after a night of hardship, and then returning to class.

Yan Jiyun decided to stick close to Lan Mo. Since Lan Mo had already suspected his identity, it was safest; following him would also let Yan Jiyun access classroom information with ease.

He waited for Lan Mo, Shi Yan, and He Yuanle to finish their investigation at the lake. As part of the throng, they could glean more details than Yan Jiyun could alone.

They found a jacket left behind by Zhao Yue at the lakeside and discovered a library card inside.

Yan Jiyun silently watched. The card likely held important information, but the school’s library probably wouldn’t open this early.

The three found no other clues, and as they prepared to leave, Yan Jiyun suddenly darted in front of them, blocking Lan Mo’s path.

Lan Mo, moved, said, “After a whole night together, the little cat has feelings for me!”

Shi Yan rolled his eyes; He Yuanle crouched down, “Little cat, want to ride in my backpack?”

Yan Jiyun hesitated. Compared to He Yuanle, who he’d only just met, he trusted Lan Mo’s character more—surely Qi Feng’s judgment couldn’t be wrong.

Lan Mo, quick on the uptake, unzipped his own backpack. Yan Jiyun slipped inside. This backpack, salvaged from the supermarket, contained their improvised tools.

Lan Mo, feeling the weight, mused, “First time I’ve lured an NPC in-game. Didn’t think it’d be a cat instead of a beauty.”

Though he joked, he felt sure this cat was really Qi Feng’s Caramel. But it didn’t make sense for a new player to enter a level 4 hard instance, which soothed his doubts about Yan Jiyun’s identity.

Shi Yan was noncommittal; reserved yet practical, he considered it luck to have found a quest-hinting NPC.

He Yuanle grumbled, “Does it not like my backpack? Mine’s nicer, you know.”

Shi Yan said, “It’s not that—probably just doesn’t like you.”

He Yuanle pouted, thoroughly aggrieved.

Yan Jiyun chose Lan Mo for a simple reason: Lan Mo had Qi Feng’s trust, and Yan Jiyun had even run into him a few times before.

The backpack wasn’t zipped fully, letting Yan Jiyun observe He Yuanle’s expression—even since his possession last night, Yan Jiyun had kept a wary eye on him.

But from careful observation, He Yuanle clearly used his “harmless” outward appearance to lower others’ guard.

For now, Yan Jiyun didn’t see malice—he was simply smart about playing to his strengths.

Of course, he couldn’t rule out the possibility that He Yuanle had allies.

The three players blended into the atmosphere of ordinary students: after breakfast, returning to class as if nothing was amiss. Classrooms here seemed safe by day—perhaps, unlike in instance A, danger in instance B lurked only at night.

Lan Mo was in Class 3, Shi Yan in Class 5, He Yuanle in Class 9; though not too far apart, any emergency would stop them from instant reunion.

Lan Mo really did have good luck—he shared a class with the deceased Yang Pingping.

Yan Jiyun returned to the classroom yet again, unsure if his absence from the other instance counted as skipping class.

Not that he’d listen here either.

Hidden in Lan Mo’s bag, he merged into the Year 3 building; voices from every classroom filtered in.

Players and NPCs mingled, and he caught plenty of useful tidbits.

Most urgent was clarifying the number of students involved in Main Quest 1. Now, one had died.

Of the four remaining players, Han Ruibai and Cheng Su behaved normally; the other two trembled in fear, talking in whispers in the corridor between classes—they were obviously frightened, their voices tense.

Wang Ziming: “Didn’t Yang Pingping come back to the dorm with us last night? When did he fall in the lake? You share his room, didn’t notice anything?”

Liu Yixuan: “I went to bed right after getting back. Never noticed he was missing. Only realized when I didn’t see him in the morning, thought he was just early to breakfast. Wasn’t until you told me he’d drowned.”

Wang Ziming: “Same—another classmate told me. Say, could it be because of the Ouija last night? Maybe the spirit got angry and cursed us. Remember, it said if we didn’t make a wish, we’d die?”

Liu Yixuan: “But we all made wishes. Yang Pingping was keener than any of us. Why him?”

Wang Ziming: “Maybe he died for another reason?”

Liu Yixuan: “What then?”

They fell into silence.

Yan Jiyun agreed—it couldn’t have been the wishing itself. The quest had activated before Yang Pingping’s death.

Why were they speaking in incomplete sentences? Maddening.

But why did Yang Pingping die? Just from playing Ouija?

That couldn’t be it—the Ouija was only one step, coaxing them all to make wishes at the lake, and someone else had nudged them: Han Ruibai.

It was Han Ruibai who’d suggested Mirror Lake in the first place. Maybe he’d also urged them to Ouija, playing on their superstitions to set up the mood for making wishes.

But why? What was Han Ruibai after?

This Han Ruibai was different than the one in instance A. Here, he was secretive; there, seemingly innocent.

Having run into Han Ruibai in both instances, Yan Jiyun suspected all key figures were being reused between them, with only their backstories shifted.

By extension, finishing one instance’s main quest might unravel the other too.

The thought invigorated him—why not solve this instance first, mapping out relationships and plot, then run over to the music instance and wrap that one up too?

Of course, easier said than done.

Last night’s rest had been decent, and Lan Mo had fed him, so he was ready to work.

The supernatural flavor hung everywhere—even in broad daylight, the sky was overcast, and not a ray of sunshine crept in.

Lan Mo wasn’t going to actually stick to the class routine. He ducked out on the first period.

Yan Jiyun wagered this instance didn’t have a punishment for flunking class requiring make-up lessons, unlike the music instance.

Here, the NPCs all looked tired, listless, deathlike.

Once Lan Mo slipped out, he found Shi Yan on the stairs; He Yuanle showed up as well.

He Yuanle contributed an update: “Yang Pingping fought with my classmate yesterday—his girlfriend’s in our class.”

Shi Yan latched onto the key: “Why fight—because of his girlfriend?”

He Yuanle shook his head, “No. She told me why—they argued because Yang Pingping mouthed off about one of the top students, who heard about it and confronted him; they quarreled, and it got physical.”

Shi Yan: “That wouldn’t drive anyone to murder—academic stars don’t waste their futures on something like that.”

He Yuanle said, “That’s just one thing.”

Lan Mo: “What else?”

He Yuanle went on, “The academic star dated a girl in sophomore year. Yang Pingping bullied her. Later, she died.”

Yan Jiyun hadn’t known all this—clearly, every character was interconnected.

Shi Yan asked, “How?”

He Yuanle answered, “One day, she hanged herself in the dorm. But I don’t think it had much to do with Yang Pingping.”

Yan Jiyun wished he knew the girl’s name—maybe that would break open the hidden story.

Lan Mo thought so too: “What was her name?”

He Yuanle whispered, “Jiang Shiwen.”

Yan Jiyun: …

The system was really lazy—just drop the same cast into different roles, recycling the models for a fresh plot.

He couldn’t help but admire He Yuanle. In one morning, he’d gleaned more ancestral history than Yan Jiyun had in half a day.

He wondered if the others had made more progress yesterday, or whether more outrageous events than exams had happened upon their entry.

Were there any special rules in instance B?

Yan Jiyun was glad he’d picked Lan Mo as his partner—he could ride on his experience, keeping one step ahead of trouble.

But it seemed the three didn’t yet know Yang Pingping had gone to the music building with others last night.

He couldn’t just turn human and spill the secret—that would be too abrupt. He’d have to wait for a better chance to talk to Lan Mo in person.

For now, he stayed silent in Lan Mo’s backpack.

After sharing their updates, the three split to continue their respective tasks—time was short and every player was busy.

He Yuanle kept asking around about relationships. Agile Shi Yan snuck into the teacher’s office looking for Jiang Shiwen’s file. Lan Mo, freed from class, wandered the campus for new leads.

No sooner had they parted than Lan Mo, backpack slung, descended to the ground floor. There he found a delivery truck at the main gate, a teacher directing students to unload boxes.

The teacher, spotting him, barked, “Class is in session—where are you going? You trying to skip?”

Turning, the teacher’s badge was clear to both Yan Jiyun and Lan Mo:

Director of Academic Affairs.

“You, come help unload.”

And so, Lan Mo was conscripted by the director.

Yan Jiyun poked his head out to check out the boxes.

Inside were props—ribbons, balloons, odds and ends—clearly for some event. But what?

Lan Mo quietly asked a fellow lifter, a tall athletics type in a basketball jersey.

“Don’t you know? School anniversary show. Today’s the first rehearsal. That big-head Yang’s rounding up anyone he can find to help.”

Big-head Yang was the students’ nickname for the director.

So, an anniversary celebration—and rehearsal had begun.

Some students were to participate in the rehearsal, in the biggest auditorium.

Lan Mo and the athlete set the boxes down in the auditorium. After unloading, the director let them go.

Inside, students were already rehearsing: two hosts testing the mics, dancers practicing onstage.

Yan Jiyun unzipped Lan Mo’s backpack further, observing more of the action.

Below the stage, he glimpsed a figure in a baseball cap, ducking behind the set. Was that Professor Qu?

If he wanted to return to instance A, Professor Qu was likely the key.

Yan Jiyun jumped from Lan Mo’s backpack and ran for the stage.

Feeling the sudden lightness, Lan Mo grabbed for the bag, but the cat was too quick, darting away far faster than expected. He stopped asking about the school celebration, instead giving chase.

The black cat NPC had to be leading him into the plot; he had to follow.

But Yan Jiyun cared nothing for Lan Mo’s intentions—he just wanted to find Professor Qu.

A few bounds brought him up to the stage, and then behind it.

He’d clearly heard footsteps just a moment ago, but now, only silence.

Boom boom boom!

Suddenly, both wings of the stage erupted with loud dance music, nearly splitting Yan Jiyun’s sensitive ears and making him miss the faint traces of steps.

Instance B’s Professor Qu was cryptic and elusive, utterly unlike the straightforward one from A—proof the game’s character system was robust, able to present each version with truly distinct personalities.

The Professor Qu next door was so much easier to find! This one, impossible.

Was he hiding, or was he never here? And if it was a supernatural instance, was it possible Professor Qu wasn’t even human?

Yan Jiyun racked his brain for ghostly hallmarks:

One, no shadow;

Two, avoiding sunlight, never seen by day;

Three, no physical body.

Qu’s double had hugged him before—so not immaterial. He’d felt warmth, too. But he couldn’t recall if there’d been a shadow.

As for the sunlight—he’d never actually seen Professor Qu out in it.

A shiver ran through him. He clung to his certainty: Professor Qu must be human!

But now there was no trace of him—perhaps the scent of sandalwood he usually carried was missing, too. Maybe after a wardrobe change it was gone altogether.

Luckily, cats had one huge advantage in tracking—keen noses.

The scent was faint, barely noticeable. But he was sure Professor Qu had passed through the auditorium.

When he saw Jiang Shiwen fall in instance A, had that been Professor Qu from A or B? Surely, B’s Qu would stick to B’s plotline; he wouldn’t moonlight in the other scenario.

Sudden inspiration: what if the Qu he’d glimpsed on campus the previous night was actually Professor Qu from instance A?

It was speculation, but mapping these crossovers was important.

Backstage, groups of students prepared for rehearsals—the school anniversary festival would fill the day, with each time slot assigned to a different show.

Yan Jiyun’s black coloring allowed him to blend with the shadows, snagging no attention, while Lan Mo earned a shriek after bumping into a girl rushing in.

Lan Mo apologized, “Sorry! Looking for someone! Sorry, excuse me!”

He never said it was a cat, intent on keeping Yan Jiyun’s identity safe. If other players captured him, it could spell disaster.

Yan Jiyun was unconcerned about losing Lan Mo—catching back up was easy. Professor Qu, however, remained a frustrating enigma.

Where could he have gone?

The backstage air stank of dust and mildew, complicating scent-tracking.

A stage curtain slowly shifted—Yan Jiyun darted over, spotting a shadow, but it was only another man wearing sandalwood: the school electrician checking the rigging.

None of the footsteps matched Professor Qu’s pattern. He hadn’t even heard anyone exit; he could be sure nobody had left since Yan’s arrival.

Someone complained about the volume, and a technician dropped the music.

Yan Jiyun’s spirits flagged.

Suddenly, a crash sounded up front—someone’s microphone clattered to the floor, screeching, then the music was cut.

Screams echoed next.

“Ahhhh—!”

“Someone fell from the second floor! Hurry!”

“Call an ambulance!”

Yan Jiyun sighed. It was the third time he’d heard almost this exact scenario.

Who was it this time?

Lan Mo had stopped hunting for cats in the crowd; since he was near the stage, he heard the commotion and rushed to the witness.

He was more convinced than ever that the black cat was an in-game NPC: wherever the cat turned up, an event happened—Conan in feline form.

Yan Jiyun thought the true bringer of disaster might be Qu’s double: wherever he appeared, someone died.

Unable to find Qu, he dove into the crowd.

Before he got close, someone said the student who’d fallen was the solo dancer, Cheng Su.

Cheng Su?

Before coming here, the instance A Cheng Su was fine—why trouble in instance B?

Same NPC, different background.

He moved closer: from what he could tell, she had only been knocked out—something had caught her as she fell, sparing her life.

This mirrored the method of Jiang Shiwen’s death in instance A.

He saw Professor Qu before, then someone died.

Cheng Su was soon put into an ambulance.

With no one dead, rehearsal continued, music and bustle resuming.

Lan Mo, failing to find the cat, could only sigh—after all, an NPC’s whereabouts couldn’t be controlled; he decided to update Shi Yan instead.

They needed to find the connection between Cheng Su and Yang Pingping.

Yan Jiyun’s target was what these students were hiding.

The first victim after the music building event was Yang Pingping, the second Cheng Su—three others still remained.

He wanted to know the reactions of the surviving trio to Cheng Su’s accident.

He slipped into the makeshift dressing room behind the auditorium, transformed back into human shape, and strode out.

He had to find Han Ruibai and the others as quickly as possible.

He dashed from the auditorium like a breeze, overtaking Lan Mo on his way back to the teaching building.

Lan Mo, seeing someone pass him, felt his competitive streak flare and gave chase.

Yan Jiyun stopped at the first floor, turned, and asked pointedly, “Why are you following me?”

Lan Mo said, “No one’s following anyone. We’re just heading the same way.”

Yan Jiyun said, “Player?”

Lan Mo responded crisply, “Yes.”

Yan Jiyun said, “I’m alone. Exchange info?”

Lan Mo was surprised by his forthrightness. “Exchange what?”

Yan Jiyun said, “I’ll give you a list. When you’ve finished with it, I’ll tell you the answer.”

Lan Mo hesitated—he’d never seen this person before. “Why should I trust you?”

Yan Jiyun: “There’s just you and me here—miss this window and lose the best lead. Are you in or out?”

Lan Mo realized he was right. “Deal.”

Yan Jiyun: “Find Liu Yixuan as fast as you can, and tell him Cheng Su is dead.”

Lan Mo: “But Cheng Su isn’t.”

Yan Jiyun: “What matters is his reaction when you tell him. Then meet me in the hall. Remember, you must tell him Cheng Su is dead.”

Once he’d relayed the task, Yan Jiyun dashed upstairs; there was no time to waste—he had to see Han Ruibai’s group’s reaction to Cheng Su’s accident.

Lan Mo hurried after him, but paused after a few steps.

Wait, why was he being so obedient? Only Qi Feng could order him around like this!

The next second, he still obediently hurried after.

Because, at that moment, he saw his previously-missing Main Quest 1!