Famine 122: Friend
by Cristae“…Wake up…”
“Wake up!!” said his friend.
Ye Xianqing jolted violently and sat up suddenly, his glasses driven by his nose into the rock above, sending sparks crashing through his vision.
The abyss remained steeped in oppressive darkness—deep and boundless—pitch black to the point one could not see their own hand before their face.
Only Ye Xianqing’s headlamp, with its cluster of LED bulbs, twinkled faintly in the dark like a tiny firefly.
How did I fall asleep?!
The instant he realized it, cold sweat broke out all over him.
How long had I been out?!
Click.
Right at that moment,
the light from the headlamp on his brow flickered.
—And then went out.
In an instant, darkness surged over him like a breaking wave.
He was surrounded by crowds of people.
“…,” Ye Xianqing’s face went paper-pale, his voice catching in his throat.
Crrrk—crack!
The headlamp flickered twice, then came back to life.
Buzz. That pallid white beam once again penetrated the darkness.
The teeming masses all around him vanished without a trace.
…For now.
Ye Xianqing had no time to breathe a sigh of relief; he immediately unzipped his white coat, pulled out his pocket watch with the sleep monitor, and stared intently—
[Today’s sleep time: 1 hour 35 minutes]
—He was nearly at the limit!!
Crack.
The headlamp above his forehead started to flicker again, faltering weakly.
Ye Xianqing yanked it off, his hands quivering, and began twisting the switch.
Once, twice, three times… fifty, fifty-one times…
…Three hundred and twenty-four, three hundred and twenty-five times…
Ye Xianqing stared, eyes bulging, his pupils quivering behind his lenses. It had been ages since he’d looked in a mirror, yet he could almost see the obsessive glint in his own eyes.
Please—don’t go out, please, there’s still time, please…
…One thousand and twenty-three twists.
Finally, after a few sputters, the headlamp’s light came back on.
By now, it had been one hour and fifty-three minutes since he last lit it.
“…Just made it….”
Ye Xianqing slumped, suddenly limp and drained, nearly sagging inside his sleeping bag.
He exhaled deeply, clutching desperately at his pounding heart, his fingers trembling with nerves, the white coat scrunched up in his long, slender hands.
“Th…thank you… You actually…”
His teeth chattered, words coming in broken fragments as he turned to his friend.
His friend nudged him gently, reassuringly.
Ye Xianqing tried to manage a smile, his lips twitching, but he couldn’t summon the strength.
He closed his eyes, struggling to regulate the unstoppable palpitations, his heart hammering against his thin chest, crashing out a rapid, frantic rhythm that made his whole body ache.
The sixty-third day without sleep.
If his friend hadn’t woken him in time, Ye Xianqing would already be a dead man.
…He couldn’t die.
Ye Xianqing was the squad’s doctor, and their only pathfinder still capable of maintaining lucidity.
He was slender and tall, shoulders too fragile to carry a load, his only talent a mind that could still turn, and skills specially enhanced in [Medicine] and [Hormones].
Usually, that group of muscular teammates he cared for would always stand in front of him, sheltering him behind their cocky posturing.
Until this time.
At the very beginning of this world transfer, they’d been thrown straight into this abyss.
As one of the stronger teams, they were assigned, with each mission, ever closer to the most perilous, most anomalously intense cliff zones in the abyss.
They had no choice but to make camp here.
At first, they managed, but as time ground on, the true terror of the Sleepless Abyss became steadily apparent.
It had been more than sixty days.
Prolonged sleeplessness brought a crushing fatigue, mental exhaustion bordering on collapse. Little by little, it had ruined their minds.
Many teammates had been reduced to a numb, shivering, weeping state—just staying awake long enough to face the lurking nightmares in the darkness was struggle enough.
Let alone completing their mission.
When it rains, it pours: two days ago, the foundation of their campsite had begun gradually dissolving and was on the verge of collapse.
They had to find a new place to camp.
But the team was severely depleted, barely hanging on. Fending off daily nightmares left them so overstretched that every survivor was being worked to the bone—there simply wasn’t anyone left to scout for a new campsite.
At the bleakest moment, Ye Xianqing—the squad’s medic, a noncombatant long protected by others—stepped forward.
“I still have the ability to move. This quest tests mental fortitude. In that, I’m stronger than all of you.”
Their leader, Yan Cheng—a scar-faced, bounty-hunter type—had lost an arm. He was panting, his eyes bloodshot, and he flatly refused, “No. It’s too dangerous.”
“If I haven’t returned in five days, you may open the belongings I leave behind. I’ve placed a letter inside for you, assigning the talismans as needed.”
Dr. Ye pushed up his glasses, his voice controlled and even, as if he weren’t discussing his own death.
Yan Cheng leaned back in camp, body scored with scars, his voice hoarse: “We need you.”
Ye Xianqing replied calmly, with adamant finality: “This is the best choice.”
“…”
Yan Cheng said no more.
As always, silent and resolute, he watched him for a long time.
Ye Xianqing didn’t know why, but something in his chest softened unexpectedly.
With a quiet sigh, he reached out his cold hand and covered Yan Cheng’s burning eyelids.
“…Don’t worry.”
“If I return victorious, I will of course lead you to safety; but if I perish, I’ll do all I can to bless you all with martial fortune.”
…
He’d declared such resolve then, but just three days in, he’d almost failed here.
Ye Xianqing gave a bitter smile.
He took a breath and gathered up his makeshift sleeping bag.
Tonight, it—
Then, he pressed his spinning friend close, and took flight.
He moved along the rock face, slowly edging ahead.
No matter how far he traveled, the darkness before him remained unchanging. Alone, Ye Xianqing struggled in a bottomless sea of pitch, the very sense of exile from the world weighing upon him.
Were it not for his hand brushing the stone wall, he could scarcely tell if he was even moving.
As he flew, he donned his throat mic, switched on his recorder, and began to narrate, measured and steady:
[Abysstravel Log. Day 63, 2:30 a.m.]
[“Friend,” as always, projected my late mother in my dream. But today, it woke me as my sleep time neared its limit. Perhaps, when it brings our loved ones into dreams, it is not simply luring us into slumber? Regardless, its behavioral logic remains elusive and extremely dangerous. One must not let down their guard.]
[Continuing today as planned, facing the stone wall, using the butterfly-shaped protrusion as a central marker, I will proceed upward to the right, targeting a distance of eight kilometers. Local anomalies include Ghost Call and Soul-devouring Lure; recommended countermeasures as follows… Store C-grade item, the headlamp, flickered once, nearing end of service life. Still no sign of an exit from the abyss, visibility unchanged, no landmarks, utter darkness.]
[As I journey deeper into the abyss, I see—]
Suddenly, his pupils narrowed behind the lenses.
Ye Xianqing lifted his gaze, murmuring almost in bewilderment:
[…A beam of light.]
Far in the distance, a faint glimmer flickered at the edge of sight, suspended in the endless night like the distant, unreachable light of a mariner’s lighthouse.
What was that?
[At three o’clock, a beam of light has appeared. It could be an anomaly driven by predatory instinct, or perhaps a special quest area. Highly dangerous, but possibly a source of unknown opportunity. I’m going to investigate.]
Ye Xianqing said, altering his course and keeping alert as he moved closer to the light.
A thousand meters… eight hundred… five hundred…
He drew nearer, and that faint glow began to reveal its structure and detail.
[The light is not a solitary point, but a cluster—a complex. That is…]
Until the thing appeared fully in Ye Xianqing’s sight.
[That’s—]
His voice cut off abruptly.
—It was a castle.
A tiered castle extending out from the sheer cliff wall, built of countless blocks of glowing lava rock. Beneath their jagged surface, warm orange light pulsed and flowed. The shine seeped through the fissures, diffusing a gentle, hazy glow—soft, warm, and alive, as if the molten heart of the world beat within.
Thick with warmth, pulsing with the same vital energy as lava itself.
At the front gate hung a wooden sign, scrawled in clear, elegant script:
[Farmstead Glimmer Sleep Hostel]
[That’s… a hostel…?]
Ye Xianqing’s pupils shrank to pinpricks behind his glasses. His voice was hesitant and parched, all the composure of his recordings gone.
[A structure…? Floating lights? Lava…? Hostel? No, is this a quest area—a sleep quest? It must be dangerous…]
After so long in utter darkness, Ye Xianqing was hypersensitive to light. Even this faint glow felt blinding, stinging tears from his wary eyes, yet an even deeper yearning rooted him to the spot, his bloodshot stare fixed on that warm, almost unreal radiance.
A hostel… a hostel.
At the sight of those two characters, a stream of gentle, hazy fantasies surged through his mind.
In that instant, Ye Xianqing suddenly understood the prey of the anglerfish.
A sleep hostel—even if it was a quest zone, this must surely be the most dangerous kind.
Yet… he couldn’t say no.
…………
……
Shi He sat by the desk, flipping through a book and sipping a rich, dark Americano.
After a full night’s sleep and a comfortable hot shower, he felt completely refreshed, ready to start his day’s work.
So much time had passed—would any guests really come? What sort of person would their first guest be? And come to think of it, if there’s no farm out there, how do people even survive…
It was Shi He’s first time running a farm shop. He swung his legs gently, heart brimming with anticipation.
Suddenly, the brass bell at the door rang out.
[Living Radar] beeped twice in warning.
Ah, the first guests had come!
Shi He straightened up and looked toward the hostel’s entrance.
The moment the visitor entered view, Shi He’s entire body bristled—an icy chill shot over him, and the hairs on his nape stood on end!