Cat 288: Advancing to the Next Round

Chapter 288: Advancing to the Next Round

Qi Feng put the instant noodles back in place. He fixed his gaze for a moment on the NPC slouched on the balcony, his expression filled with obvious dissatisfaction. His brows furrowed into a deep crease; the man’s clothing style was far ahead of its time, the kind Qi Feng had never worn—even at his most disheveled in the game, he’d never looked like this. Aside from that, the only admirable feature was the man’s face, which could be considered handsome among men, but not enough to impress Qi Feng—it didn’t hold a tenth of Yan Jiyun’s appeal. The Ultimate Video Game Console.

“So, do you like him for his unique vibe or his looks?” Qi Feng sounded a bit disgruntled, his tone colder than usual.

“Don’t you think his style is cool?”

Qi Feng gave him a look that clearly said: What kind of taste is that?

“So you like the ‘beggar chic?’ Wait until I shave you bald and put you in some rags—then you can have that look yourself.” There was the faint hint of a threat in Qi Feng’s words.

“Get lost.” Yan Jiyun withdrew his gaze, laughing.

He always joked about his own dark fur, but the truth was, he took good care of it. Shave him bald and it would be like making him run around naked—anyone who tried it would be in for trouble.

Back to the matter at hand.

“Notice anything unusual?” Yan Jiyun looked all around, finding nothing useful. The kitchen was spotless—not even a tiny fly to be seen. “Is this supposed to be a haunted house? Are we here to find a corpse or solve a mystery?”

“If I’m not mistaken, the game wants us to find the theme of this level.”

“Hard.” Yan Jiyun commented, but his eyes were already fixed on something: an old calendar hanging on the wall. He glanced at the other players who kept watching them—in previous levels it hadn’t mattered much, but this time, everything was at stake for their advancement, so caution was called for. “Why would there be a calendar in a kitchen? Doesn’t make sense, does it?”

This sparked an idea for Qi Feng: “Exactly. Maybe what we need to find is the inconsistency within the house—including the two NPCs.”

“Do you want to talk to them, or should I?” Compared to Qi Feng, Yan Jiyun was more lively, so him chatting with the NPCs was a good option.

Qi Feng gave him a look and said, a touch wearily, “As long as you don’t gush over how devilishly handsome or impossibly beautiful they are, it’s fine by me.”

Yan Jiyun just laughed. “My owner’s the handsomest, of course!”

[Becoming Human] Livestream Room:

“I just realized the kitty is a pro at flirting.”

“I’d bet anything—there’s definitely something between kitty and his owner!”

“Me too, but he hides it well—never shown any sign. Their interactions are so natural.”

“Maybe he’s holding back? After all, he’s a cat and Qi Feng is human. Different species—it’s not exactly a match.”

“Damn, I’m way too invested in the kitty’s love life. Other streamers have impure intentions, trying to tease anyone and everyone, but here it’s all so vanilla, and I’m still going bald with worry.”

“Same, honestly feels like raising your own kid!”

“Wait, did anyone else notice that the stream cut out for a few seconds in the fortieth stage? Never seen the stream glitch like that before.”

“It was just a few seconds, not a big deal. Could be signal issues—so many players and instances to process, plus the stream. It’s a lot, give them a break, why even ask?”

“What was kitty whispering in Brother Feng’s ear? Is there something we, streaming room VIPs, aren’t allowed to hear?”

Yan Jiyun, of course, whispered something meant only for him and Qi Feng.

He’d just swept a glance at the stream—viewers noticed the broadcast cut out for a few seconds during the fortieth level. He guessed that those few seconds must have been when he was watching the zombie instance; time in that side space seemed to stretch—he was inside for half an hour, yet only a few seconds had passed outside, as if it was a zone where time was prolonged.

But since he was still in the game, he didn’t press Qi Feng for details, only asking about the stream outage. The Ultimate Video Game Console.

“Have you ever had the stream cut out during an instance?” Yan Jiyun asked, careful to avoid letting viewers realize he’d been peeking at something they couldn’t see.

Qi Feng’s gaze lingered on Yan Jiyun’s face; he nodded. “It happened once, but that was two or three years ago.”

Yan Jiyun immediately thought of the zombie instance, so he pressed, “Which instance? Was it a bug with the instance or the system?”

Qi Feng squeezed his arm, a gentle pressure. “I’ll tell you after the finals.”

Yan Jiyun figured he wanted to discuss the zombie scenario. He suggested, “Then, let’s go back to reality after all this. I have something new I want to share with you.”

Even Central City wasn’t exactly safe; who knew if the system was listening in. It might monitor reality too, but not as obviously.

“Alright. For now, let’s focus on finding the answer and getting out of here.”

“Mm.”

With their arrangements settled, they turned their attention fully to the present challenge.

The calendar they’d found earlier wasn’t marked with dates, but it was clear that it matched their real-world year.

Yan Jiyun said, “Let’s check if the other rooms have calendars.”

Leaving the clean kitchen, they headed for the bedrooms.

Many players circled the bedrooms several times—some looking anxious, some expressionless, others fairly relaxed.

Gao Kan and Zheng Xian, who’d repeatedly come in second and reached the hundredth level, were there, along with a young man in athletic clothes, changing second place with the other team as they went. The six of them had gotten some interaction through the day and could be counted as the “first group” among players.

But right now everyone kept their findings closely guarded—a first-place win meant a valuable prize, and no one was eager to share information lest they be beaten at their own game.

Gao Kan gave Yan Jiyun a friendly smile in greeting. Most players felt Qi Feng was hard to approach, but Yan Jiyun seemed easygoing and cheerful.

In truth, Yan Jiyun thought Qi Feng was much easier to talk to—whenever Yan Jiyun reverted to his cat form, he was always aloof with people.

Not having to interact with other players was a relief—maybe he really was a hidden introvert.

Yan Jiyun and Qi Feng didn’t split up in the three-hundred-square-meter flat. Teamwork was more efficient, and ideas could be shared directly.

There were four rooms in this big apartment; three lay past the archway, with a spare bedroom by the dining room—set to be checked later.

Within, there were three large bedrooms, each with a closet or walk-in wardrobe, sometimes converted into a study to fit the occupant’s needs.

Of the three bedrooms: one was bedroom plus sitting room; one was bedroom plus walk-in closet; the third was bedroom plus study.

Judging by how the rooms were arranged, the one with a sitting room likely belonged to the man of the house, the closet to the couple, and the study to a child in middle or high school.

The bedroom with a closet was furthest inside, while the left of the archway was the sitting room suite, and to the right, the room with the study.

In the small sitting room they found another calendar, hanging right below a large galloping horses painting.

Searching the sitting room and bedroom, they saw that items had already been rummaged by other players—furniture out of place, quilts tossed off the bed, wardrobes open to reveal men’s clothes. No surprise, this room belonged to the male head of house.

The suite’s contents leaned strongly male; clearly, this was a private space for the man to meet close friends.

The sitting room also had a small balcony, connecting to the master bedroom’s balcony next door. Passing through, they entered the master bedroom.

Though called the master, it only held women’s belongings. Perhaps the couple had long since started sleeping apart, or perhaps one of them snored too much. To improve sleep, they’d split up; the closet, accessories, and bags were all women’s.

By the makeup mirror, they spotted a plain notebook with a calendar cover.

After another round through the main suite and finding nothing else special, they moved on to the study-bedroom, whose bookshelf was lined with global classics. Yan Jiyun and Qi Feng found no table or wall calendar in the room, just books.

“The master bedroom’s calendar is actually a notebook. Maybe this room is different, since it’s the kid’s. What would a teenager use most?” Yan Jiyun’s finger slid along the bookshelf.

Books themselves wouldn’t likely contain a current calendar.

“I’ll check the drawers.”

Qi Feng rifled through the open drawers; the teenager’s drawers held all sorts of odds and ends—tricked-out toys, stationery, sticky notes, pens, erasers, compasses.

No useful information, but at least now they had a clear sense of their target.

A backpack, already opened, contained a few high school textbooks. Qi Feng searched thoroughly, but found no calendar there either. However, in an inner pocket, he did find a pink envelope.

It was quite ornate, complete with a wax seal, and hadn’t been opened—none of the others had noticed it.

Qi Feng opened the envelope; inside was a schoolgirl’s love letter, simple feelings of affection, nothing earth-shattering. But on the second page, the letter’s background was a faint calendar for August.

“Jiyun, over here,” he called, waving Yan Jiyun over. “Come look at this.”

Another player, also searching the room, grew curious at the sight of a letter in Qi Feng’s hands and hurried over, asking for it before Yan Jiyun could get there.

Items in the room were fair game for all, but Qi Feng simply told the player, “You can have it once my friend has read it.”

Yan Jiyun quickly took the letter, and after glancing at the second page, teased Qi Feng: “This is just proof of a kid’s puppy love—there’s nothing interesting here.”

Qi Feng countered, “I thought it was funny. The girl even wrote her own poem.”

Yan Jiyun read it again. “It’s pretty good, actually.”

The player who’d been watching them quickly snatched the letter away once they set it down and rushed back to his teammate.

Yan Jiyun whispered, “Should we go talk to the NPCs now?”

Qi Feng: “Who do you want to ask?”

Yan Jiyun grinned. “One each. I bet the game put both NPCs here for a reason. Remember what happened to the player who got told to scram by the redhead?” The Ultimate Video Game Console.

Qi Feng inwardly chided himself for being annoyed at Yan Jiyun’s praise of the redhead. “They tried the female NPC first.” The Ultimate Video Game Console.

Yan Jiyun nodded. “I bet these two NPCs are in different camps. Under what circumstances would they lie to players?”

Qi Feng got it.

Whoever approached the female NPC first then tried the male NPC was rebuffed, probably because the male NPC assumed the player liked the woman more.

He and Yan Jiyun were so close that, as they spoke, they could smell the scent of each other’s shampoo—a caramel note that always reminded Qi Feng of Yan Jiyun.

He said with a straight face, “Who knew NPCs could scheme against each other?”

Yan Jiyun blurted, “There’s a lot you don’t know.” Realizing how suspicious that sounded, as if he were an NPC himself, he quickly added, “I’ll talk to David; you get the lady NPC.”

A pat on Qi Feng’s shoulder settled it.

Qi Feng could only smile helplessly.

With questions brewing, Yan Jiyun approached the balcony and tried befriending the male NPC: “Hey, David, how have you been?”

David swapped out for a fresh cigarette. “Much better now—how’ve you been? Haven’t heard from you in forever.”

Yan Jiyun thought: This NPC’s on the ball, even improvising their shared history.

He asked for a smoke. David obligingly handed one over—really playing along. “By the way, what’s the name of this scenario?”

David lazily leaned against the railing. “The name’s boring as hell, like some elementary school essay prompt—‘My Family.’”

[Congratulations to Yan Jiyun and Qi Feng for clearing level one hundred and advancing to the next round!]

Yan Jiyun: “?”