Famine 177: Inevitable Death—Dense Apartment Complex

The sky began to flicker and, within minutes, the south gate teleportation coordinates of the farm arrived at [Eternal Night Gothic City].

The silent street appeared before everyone once again.

This time, the coordinates were chosen manually, positioned slightly farther out on a deserted road, so that no one would open their eyes to a scene of stark black-and-white horror.

Dusk was near. Worried about Bian Xu’s state, Si Zhiyan announced the details of the teleportation, setting the portal to officially open at eight o’clock the next morning.

The night passed without incident.

Early the next day,

To better transport a large group of little black holes, Si Zhiyan brought along a Frosthorn Rabbit with storage powers. Together with Bian Xu, they passed over the farm in the sky, heading to activate the portal, and glanced down.

The main road was already crowded with people.

Thanks to last night’s announcement, many farm players were prepared for an exploration outing.

Weapons and equipment were ready, waiting only for the portal to stabilize. Now, they stood together at the gate, fully geared, poised for departure.

Some still bore a few scrapes, some faces wore anxiety, but most were energized, eyes shining with excitement. Their satchels were packed with the farm’s portable foods, their flasks filled with milk to cure ailments, and they bore the buff effects of many spa inns.

Many elite players proudly carried weapons and gear stamped with the giant farm logo; red and blue crystals glittered, drawing glances of envy. Others, bodies levitating slightly, were accompanied by a little black hole dog waving its tentacles fondly nearby.

“Look,” Si Zhiyan nudged Bian Xu, “these are my people.”

Bian Xu paused, watching everyone. After a while, he said suddenly, “It’s different now.”

Si Zhiyan looked at him.

Bian Xu shifted into a more comfortable position in midair, hands folded behind his head, and smiled, “There’s a light in their eyes now.”

He paused; though he still smiled, his sigh was soft, tinged with a faint melancholy:

“Seven years… I spent about five of them free in the outside world. Each year, there were fewer players left than the last. With every year we struggled to survive, more friends and loved ones died, tasks became harder, the road ahead seemed even more hopeless…”

“Over the years, there were too many who took their own lives, or lost their minds.”

“Everyone pondered the same question—after fighting so desperately to stay alive, what is there at the end of it? Another day of suffering, another day of hunger? What lies at the end of all this? Who caused all of this, and how could we save ourselves?… There was never an answer.”

“But so what? Everyone kept on living, day after day. Maybe good things might happen tomorrow? No one knew.”

“I could rally the Xu Bei Team because they all wanted to know the answer.”

Bian Xu drew a deep breath, gaze lifted, his eyes shining crystal-bright in the sunrise:

“…And now, we’ve met you, sir.”

He beamed, “You see, so long as you live, good things really do happen.”

To know what you’re striving for, to understand what each day means, to have faith in a better tomorrow, to have hope in your heart…
For humanity, this is a very, very important thing.

Beneath the rising sun, the young man’s eyes were clear and luminous, brimming with Si Zhiyan’s silhouette, as if Si Zhiyan was his entire world.

Si Zhiyan couldn’t help himself; he smiled too, reaching over to ruffle Bian Xu’s hair.

Bian Xu gave a gentle shiver. Over the past few days under Si Zhiyan’s guidance, he’d gradually become accustomed to touch, growing bolder. His ears flushed a little, and he even nudged forward softly to rub his fluffy head into Si Zhiyan’s palm.

Below, the players also noticed Si Zhiyan’s arrival.

Someone waved their weapon, calling out, “Mr. Si is here!!”

“Mr. Si! Thank you, Mr. Si!! Wow, this is the second time I’ve seen the farm owner in person—so handsome…”
“Who’s the person beside him?”
“No idea, but he was there when the farm owner visited the wounded yesterday. I heard he’s Mr. Si’s assistant?”
“He seems really close with the farm owner… Well, that’s nice!”

Someone even borrowed another’s black hole dog to climb up, holding out a red crystal necklace emblazoned with the huge farm crest: “Mr. Si! Don’t you think my necklace looks cool?! Mmph!”

But was promptly smacked.
The friend who’d lent him the black hole dog massaged his fist, grumbling, “Why would you show off in front of the farm owner?! You out of your mind?!”

……

It was all quite lively.

Si Zhiyan actually didn’t mind this kind of atmosphere. He gave a helpless laugh, pulled out a lucky strip of jerky, and tossed it to the necklace guy: “Looks great. Here’s a gift for you.”

Ignoring the sudden surge of cheers, he stretched, loosened up a bit, and finally reached out to link with the portal.

Buzz!

The crowd poured out in an orderly stream.

The faded street…

As the players split into groups, their footsteps gradually echoed into the distance, dispersing through the gothic city, scattering everywhere.

In front,

Raising his head.

This place had been specially marked as extremely dangerous by Si Zhiyan; no players ventured here, and only the two of them remained.

For a moment, the air around them fell silent.

The apartment building was tall, hundreds of floors, vast in both height and width—like a wall reaching from the earth to the sky, with no end in sight, as though it marked the edge of the world.
Pale, cold tiles stretched densely to both sides. Only a few skinny, cramped windows—crushed between the tiles—were embedded into the tiers of floors.

It was like a prison squeezed out by the tiles.

From narrow windows, cracks were often open to the outside, sprouting lichen-like metal structures. Sometimes it was a clothes rack, draped with various undergarments fluttering in the wind; sometimes makeshift signboards, haphazardly piled with words like [Massage], [Civil Service Exam Training], [Tutoring]… cluttered and crowded, like fleshy buds springing from the corpse of an enormous, stagnant beast.

“This level of density…it’s worse than Tiantongyuan… no, almost Kowloon Walled City.” Bian Xu murmured.

“But our goal is to gain [recognition] and [resonance] from the living here; the more people, the better.” He nodded, counting off on his fingers. “Just like before—if I open a shop…”

Si Zhiyan shook his head, neither agreeing nor disagreeing, and walked forward.
He stopped as soon as he reached the entrance.

The building looked decades old, badly worn, with a narrow entry only wide enough for two people, little more than two meters high.
The white-painted walls were dull, the base covered in chipped green paint.

Around the doorway, all sorts of clutter was heaped—carved wooden cabinets, dust-covered baby strollers, stacked cardboard boxes, even a massive foam crate packed with soil and a handful of half-withered scallions, faintly scented with earth.

Only a narrow path remained, just wide enough to pass through into the mottled corridor.
Even someone as slim as Si Zhiyan had to twist sideways to pass, wary of brushing his coat against the dust.

But Bian Xu, more solidly built, seemed perfectly accustomed to it. He deftly shifted aside a shovel resting in front and cleared the way for Si Zhiyan.

The corridor reeked of cold, musty rot.

Si Zhiyan drew his coat tighter, brow furrowing: “How does a place like this ever pass fire inspection?”

“Of course it doesn’t.” Bian Xu tilted his head, giving Si Zhiyan a wry smile, his voice echoing faintly in the hallway: “But they usually don’t check. A strict fire or tenant inspection would mean driving out eighty percent of the residents, causing huge social problems. Beijing did it once, years ago.”

The farther they walked, the more the debris piled up. Luckily, the stair treads in this old-style building were fairly shallow, so Si Zhiyan pressed on slowly.

So cramped. Si Zhiyan frowned. In a disaster, this place would be a deathtrap.

Come to think of it, when they switched worlds the system had announced this place as [~Dense Curse~ Inevitable Death Piled Apartments]… In theory, if the dead pile up, shouldn’t it be a quiet place?

Creak—

The moment Si Zhiyan set foot on the first floor, the iron door slammed shut behind them with a harsh clang.

The corridor’s automatic lights flickered twice, then brightened.

——

The stairs to the second floor were behind iron bars, while at the end of the first floor’s long, cluttered passageway, piled with yet more odds and ends, a narrow corridor stretched out.

Fine dust floated in the air.

With Bian Xu blocking for him, Si Zhiyan made his way forward, brushing through the dust. They passed a row of tightly shut security doors, and at the end of the hall, they saw an open, dust-covered office. Crooked on the door hung peeling sticker letters that read:

[Rental/Sales/Agent]
[Consultation Tel: 135XXXX9302]

A faded plastic curtain hung at the entrance.

Si Zhiyan tentatively brushed it aside, letting it fall into his hand with a swish.

Instantly, the light in front of him brightened, colors blooming like a tide, flooding into the world around him, crashing into his eyes.

Drriiiiiing! Drriiiiiing!

The chorus of old landline phones exploded at once. Meanwhile, the corridor behind them grew much brighter, and a rush of odors and countless noises surged around them—the hiss of stir-fry, chatter of card games, barking dogs, wailing children—bursting forth from every direction.

Before them was a cramped, narrow office. At a bluish-tinted window, a pale curtain was half-drawn. Four wooden desks were jammed into the room, their surfaces covered with green glass under which notes, newspapers, and calendars were pressed. Four phones sat atop the desks, all ringing simultaneously.

There was just one middle-aged woman inside, bustling to answer every line—a phone handset clamped in each hand, flipping madly through a phone book, her speech rapid-fire:

“The drain’s leaking again? Wasn’t it just fixed yesterday? Fine, fine, I get it, but arguing with me won’t help. Call the plumber—I’ll give you his number, get ready to write…”

“…Pets? Not in my units! Who owns a cat? Tell me the door number… Oh, not my tenant—the owner’s? Negotiate it yourselves.” Click, she hung up.

“Officially, you’re not allowed to leave clutter in the hall! And again, officially, you can’t. That’s all I can say, make a complaint if you want.” Click.

“Your turn, go ahead…”

Drriiiiiing!
The phone she’d just hung up began to ring again.

Si Zhiyan quietly took half a step back, letting Bian Xu stand in front. He surreptitiously retrieved the Frosthorn Rabbit from his shoulder and tucked it into his coat pocket, securing it.

Then, he cleared his throat softly.

The woman, phone wedged under her neck, finally looked up, noticing the pair at the door.

“7935… There, dial that one. Hey, who are you?”

Bian Xu was about to speak, but Si Zhiyan stopped him, stepping forward with a smile:

“I’m here to see an apartment. Are there any vacancies in this building?”

He paused, then added, “Preferably something mixed residential and commercial.”