Zhang Xueji was lost, in the Indoor Water Park.
The white light overhead came from an unknown source, and when it fell upon the white tiles on all sides, it refracted into an even more dazzling, uncomfortable glare.
The only path to stand on was a protruding tiled platform along the wall, less than half a meter wide—barely enough for one person.
At the same level as the path was the water’s surface, and looking down, there was no telling how deep it went—he couldn’t see the bottom at all.
The water was not calm; instead, it undulated in a rhythmic pattern, with waves occasionally splashing against Zhang Xueji’s calves.
He had been walking along the wall for quite some time, but hadn’t encountered anyone else.
This winding corridor seemed endless—there was only the sound of water, and the occasional pink Flamingo Swim Ring drifting by on the water’s surface.
That same Flamingo Swim Ring had floated past Zhang Xueji five times already.
Its bird’s head had a strange symbol drawn on it with a red marker, so Zhang Xueji remembered it clearly.
Normally, the pools in a water park are stagnant—if no visitors are playing in them, they should be perfectly still.
But judging from the waves he felt now, there was definitely something alive moving beneath the water, and it had to be something big.
What kind of creature could it be? It couldn’t possibly be a shark…
Ah, but come to think of it, how did I even end up here?
With this question popping into his mind, Zhang Xueji couldn’t help but stop in place, a look of confusion appearing on his face.
He tried hard to remember, but nothing came to mind—only one fact stood out with peculiar clarity.
This was an Indoor Water Park. He was lost here.
No, no, no, no matter how he thought about it, it was all too strange.
Never mind that an indoor setting wasn’t really suitable for a water park—the depth of this water was a huge problem! Would visitors really come to swim in water this deep? Wouldn’t non-swimmers drown…?
Suddenly, the arm hanging at his side was yanked—Zhang Xueji slowly turned his head to look behind him, toward the outer edge.
The bright, almost blinding white light had dimmed at some point, and he saw a Red String tied around his wrist.
That Red String was tied to Zhang Xueji’s wrist at one end, and at the other, it extended toward the dark water’s surface, extending toward… a pink Flamingo Swim Ring.
Zhang Xueji: Why is it this Flamingo Swim Ring again!
The Flamingo Swim Ring drifted closer and closer, gradually entering the light.
But this time, there was someone inside the swim ring: a girl in a white short-sleeved shirt, her hair tied in low twin ponytails.
She gripped the swim ring with her right hand, which also had a Red String tied around the wrist—the other end of that string connected to Zhang Xueji, while her other hand held up a semi-transparent White Candle.
The candlelight illuminated her face with stark contrasts of light and shadow. It was a striking, almost androgynous face—sharp features, eyes as dark as lacquer.
But there was no expression on her face, the corners of her lips turned down coldly, like a distant, brooding mountain shrouded in mist—elegant, but with no warmth.
Zhang Xueji pondered for a moment, then raised a hand: “Hi?”
The girl ignored him, her indifferent face not even turning in his direction.
The pink Flamingo Swim Ring drifted forward, against the direction of the waves, pulling Zhang Xueji along by the Red String tied to both their wrists—he had no choice but to follow her.
The farther they went, the darker it became.
Eventually, there was no light at all.
Zhang Xueji couldn’t see the path, nor the water.
Yet, strangely, he could still see the pink Flamingo Swim Ring and the girl holding onto it with perfect clarity.
The candle in her left hand burned faster and faster, wax pooling on her fingers in half-solidified shapes.
Zhang Xueji couldn’t help but ask, “Doesn’t your hand get burned?”
“Who are you? Where are you taking me? When did this Red String get tied on?”
“Why won’t you say anything?”
Curiosity compelled Zhang Xueji to keep asking questions, but he still followed her involuntarily.
He no longer tried to steady himself on the wall, forgetting entirely that beside the narrow path was a bottomless pool.
Suddenly, his foot found nothing beneath it—before he could even scream, Zhang Xueji plunged into the water, his mouth opening only to let out a string of bubbling sounds.
Splash—
The current surged, bursting out from the Labyrinth of Currents.
Xie Qiaoqiao tumbled out, clinging to the pink Flamingo Swim Ring, her damp bangs plastered to her eyelids as she looked up.
Her right wrist was tied with a Red String, the other end of which extended to the unconscious young man on the stretcher beside her.
Xie Qiaoqiao pressed the nearly burned-out White Candle to the young man’s brow, and the candle melted into him.
A flush of color suddenly appeared on his pale face, and he began to cough violently, spitting up all the water he’d swallowed.
Hua Lingyue rushed over and threw a towel over Xie Qiaoqiao’s head, rubbing her hair. “Didn’t expect you’d really bring him back—after all my dealings with Monsters, this is the first time I’ve seen a living Victim in a Monster case.”
The water park they were in had gone bankrupt a year ago due to an accident, and since no investors had taken over, the place had been abandoned ever since.
Until a month ago, when people started disappearing near the water park with increasing frequency.
After Special Departments intervened and confirmed Monster involvement, the case was handed over to the Special Homestay Research Department—seal off the scene, find the Monster, eliminate it.
Searching the water maze for scattered Souls of Victims was actually something they did only after slaying the Monster.
When they first found the Victim, his body looked intact, but he had no heartbeat or breath left.
Hua Lingyue had already told logistics to prepare a body bag—until Xie Qiaoqiao squatted next to the corpse for a while, then suddenly stood up and said he wasn’t quite dead yet, and they could still try to save him.
Hua Lingyue had rubbed Xie Qiaoqiao’s hair until it was a mess. Xie Qiaoqiao lowered her head and untied the Red String from her wrist.
As she let go, the Red String fell, dropping beside the Victim’s hand—the other end still tied to the Victim’s left wrist.
Hua Lingyue was still amazed. “Does this guy have some kind of special ability?”
Xie Qiaoqiao: “No idea.”
Hua Lingyue: “I’ll check his file later. If he’s a promising candidate, that’d be great. Our department is really short on people, and he’s handsome too…”
Xie Qiaoqiao didn’t care about any of that.
Once her hair was more or less dry, she shook her head free from the towel, smoothed her messy hair down with one hand, and pressed it flat. “I’m leaving. I have class this afternoon.”
Hua Lingyue raised an eyebrow, pointing at the pink Flamingo Swim Ring Xie Qiaoqiao had left behind on the ground, and smiled. “Hey, that thing cost me a hundred yuan. Aren’t you going to take it?”
Xie Qiaoqiao ignored her, walking away without looking back, leaving Hua Lingyue laughing in her wake.
The Victim’s Soul had been trapped in the Reality-Illusion Overlap Space constructed by the Monster.
In that place, the Monster could enlarge any aspect it wished—like the pool in the water park.
And Xie Qiaoqiao couldn’t swim.
That was why the pink Flamingo Swim Ring had appeared there.
The two afternoon classes were on American Literature History.
The semester had just begun, and most people were still lingering in the afterglow of summer vacation—not many were paying attention in class.
Xie Qiaoqiao’s roommate was complaining that her boyfriend had worked all summer and hadn’t had time to take her to Paris.
Another roommate was grumbling about getting so tanned in Sanya that she didn’t know when she’d get her fair skin back.
“Hey, did you guys hear?” The third roommate whispered, clutching her phone. “My friend in the Mathematics Department told me that the survivor rescued from the water park in the news was actually that super famous Grandmaster Zhang from the Mathematics Department.”
“Our School’s? Grandmaster Zhang? Really?!”
“You mean that one? The Grandmaster Zhang?”
“Of course it’s true! Straight from the inside, how could it be fake?”
“Just goes to show, Heaven protects the handsome and not the kappa.” The roommate sighed, then turned to Xie Qiaoqiao.
“Qiao-bao, this page won’t be on the midterm, you don’t need to memorize it.”
Xie Qiaoqiao replied with an “Oh,” and put down her highlighter.
“Ugh, the job market for language majors just gets worse every year. If I’d known, I would’ve chosen…”
The roommate pondered for a moment, then sighed gloomily. “Why is there not a single humanities major that’s promising?”
Another roommate chimed in, “It’s not like it just got bad this year. The last time humanities majors were valued was back in the Song Dynasty.”
The girls looked at each other and then burst out laughing at their own joke.
For dinner, Hua Lingyue treated Xie Qiaoqiao to a Japanese restaurant—the décor was very Japanese, with tatami mats in the private room and soothing music filling the air with an expensive vibe.
Hua Lingyue scrolled through her tablet while chatting with Xie Qiaoqiao about work. “We sent him to the hospital at noon, and he woke up in the afternoon. For the sake of the Victim’s mental health, I erased his memories of the water park.”
“Just looking at his resume, the Victim we encountered this time really isn’t an ordinary person.” Hua Lingyue’s lips curled up, clearly excited.
“He skipped grades in elementary school, got into the Youth Class as a high school freshman, then got a guaranteed spot for graduate studies at our School after graduation—the standard ‘model child’… Oh, and he even goes to the same School as you, just two years ahead.”
“But you probably don’t know him—you’re not on the same campus.”
Hua Lingyue looked up at Xie Qiaoqiao, then down at her tablet, shaking her head repeatedly. “Qiao-bao, even if you doubled your math score on the college entrance exam, you still wouldn’t match his.”
Xie Qiaoqiao swallowed a sweet shrimp and replied coolly, “That’s why I picked a major in college that doesn’t require any math.”
Xie Qiaoqiao didn’t like model students, especially those who excelled in science subjects.
It wasn’t that she hadn’t tried to study hard—but math was just something she couldn’t master.
Xie Qiaoqiao could chop off a Monster’s head, or memorize English by rote for a perfect score, but math simply wasn’t something she could learn.
People need to know when to let themselves off the hook, which is why Xie Qiaoqiao disliked people who were good at science.