One day, in a hospital in the city center, an elderly man in a ward was approaching the end of his life.
The corridor outside the ward was brightly lit, and the air was faintly tinged with the smell of disinfectant.
The attending physician removed his mask, revealing a look of professional fatigue and apology.
His voice was kept low to ensure he didn’t disturb the tranquility of the other rooms.
“The old gentleman’s condition… everyone can see. All vital signs are steadily and continuously declining. There’s no acute disease, no sudden incident; it’s just… organs aging, functions naturally failing. We’ve used all gentle supportive measures, but… I’m sorry, medicine has its limits.”
In front of him stood the old man’s family. Though their clothes seemed relatively modest, the details could not be ignored.
The eldest among them, a middle-aged man who was presumably the old man’s son, was sitting on a nearby chair due to overwhelming grief, head bowed, lost in thought.
His cashmere sweater was finely textured and well-tailored, and his wristwatch looked expensive—though without flashy diamond or gold decorations, the craftsmanship was undoubtedly top-tier.
Beside him, a middle-aged woman wearing pearl earrings was crying into her hands. Another, younger woman leaned against the wall, eyes vacant, lost in thought.
There were other family members as well, their faces etched with grief, but no one lost their composure.
They had seen the world and weathered many bad news. This level of sorrow was probably not enough to make them show embarrassment in front of outsiders.
“We understand, doctor. Thank you for your hard work.”
The middle-aged man’s voice was hoarse as he nodded, his fingers unconsciously rubbing the webbing of his other hand.
“Dad… he’s reached his age, and he didn’t suffer much. We… were prepared for this.”
He said it as if for the doctor, and also for the family around him.
But only he knew that he couldn’t actually accept this reality.
At that moment, the younger woman seemed to want another look. She peered through the glass window of the ward door.
On the bed, the old man’s frail body was almost buried by the white sheets. The wires and tubes of various monitors wound around him like vines.
The waveforms and numbers on the monitor screen beside him seemed to be heading irreversibly toward flatness and zero.
Beep… Beep…
The old man’s eyes were closed, his chest rising and falling so faintly it was almost invisible.
A huge sense of drowsiness and detachment was pulling at him. Everything outside was so indistinct.
He could vaguely hear the crying outside, and vaguely see fragments of his youth.
He saw his own beaming smile when his son took his first steps, the wedding banquet with relatives and friends when his son got married, and himself, already somewhat old, holding a rattle in front of the crib when his granddaughter was born…
Seventy-nine years old. Not exceptionally long-lived, but for most people, an acceptable… ending.
But…
‘I don’t want to die…’
‘I don’t want to die…’
The old man screamed silently, but perhaps only he could hear it.
‘I still… don’t want to…’
The scream couldn’t break through the confines of his throat and tongue; it only echoed hollowly and despairingly within the walls of his soul.
His attachment to life, his fear of the unknown after death, his boundless resistance to the act of “disappearing”—all turned into this final, most primitive spiritual struggle.
He still had regrets…
He still wanted to live, even though he knew he was being greedy.
Just before one of the curves on the monitor was about to slide to the critical point, the light in the corner of the ward seemed to dim for an instant—not extinguished, but as if some of its luster had been absorbed by something.
Space-time seemed to warp for a moment, and the camera in the room responsible for monitoring the old man’s condition short-circuited and malfunctioned at that moment.
It appeared.
It was a “person” wearing a solemn purple robe, the hem moving without wind.
And above the robe, under the hood, where a head should be, there was a solid mass of darkness that seemed to absorb all light.
No features, no outline, only a void.
It stood between the instruments and the bed, “gazing” at the old man on the bed with that pitch-black face.
“█████████”
It made a sound the old man couldn’t understand—chaotic, discordant, without any order.
But the old man seemed to grasp something. It… wanted to grant him salvation.
The old man’s eyes were tightly shut. He couldn’t see what was standing beside him.
Was it an angel? Or a demon?
It didn’t matter. Whatever it was, if it could let him live… if it could let him live…
It seemed to hear the old man’s inner wish. Slowly, almost gracefully, it extended an arm toward the body on the bed, which was rapidly losing warmth.
The arm emerged from the purple sleeve, also made of pure darkness, but hidden within that darkness was a… flesh-colored crystal, its surface writhing with countless threads.
“██████”
The sound flooded the old man’s mind once more. This time… it seemed to be revealing something to him, or completing a kind of “inquiry” and “invitation.”
An invitation to continue “living.”
The old man agreed, though he couldn’t make a sound.
Then the threads on the surface of the flesh-colored crystal began to grow and spread rapidly, detaching from the crystal like some kind of nematodes, silently burrowing into the old man’s body.
“Ugh! Gugh…”
Only the monitor let out a sharp, prolonged “Beeeeep—,” especially piercing in the suddenly dead silence of the ward.
The family outside jolted. The middle-aged man instinctively stepped forward and opened the ward door.
Inside the ward, on the bed, the old man’s last faint rise and fall stopped.
On the screen, only a straight line remained…
***
“Huh? Your business friend’s father passed away, so why do I have to go to the funeral? I have no relation to him… You’re busy? Like I’m free every day. I’m fighting Guiyi almost every day! You…”
In the restroom corridor of the Association branch’s cafeteria, Yao Xueyue was on the phone with someone, and it didn’t sound harmonious.
Over in the cafeteria, Qiu Qiqian was eating quietly. Mo Ling beside her was lamenting that there were no fun games recently.
Isana, on the other hand, was sitting at another table, holding a golden flower that was about to bloom, apparently explaining something to Li Meng.
“Miss Li Meng, do you know… how to wake a flower?”
“Wake a flower?”
Li Meng blinked, shaking her head innocently.
“Sometimes I see on TV, isn’t it just a few taps?”
“No, waking a flower… is a skill. If done well, it can bring a good experience to both parties.”
Bring to… both parties? Hmm… something feels off.
“Petals are very delicate. Before waking a flower, you must remember to cut your nails to avoid accidental injury.”
Isana’s voice was gentle, as if she were speaking to the flower itself.
“Then, use your fingers like this to gently stroke the surface of the flower, letting it gradually get used to your presence.”
Isana placed her own slightly pinkish fingers on the surface of the bud, beginning to stroke and press the petals with moderate pressure.
Qiu Qiqian glanced over at the scene, but seeing Li Meng listening so attentively and Isana actually holding a flower for practice, she didn’t look into it further, assuming they were genuinely just talking about waking flowers.
But she didn’t notice that Li Meng, who had previously read the “Complete Guide to Enhancing Feelings” that Isana had sent, now seemed to realize something. A faint blush gradually spread across her face.
She lowered her head, looked at her own hands, and then… couldn’t help but gaze at Qiu Qiqian sitting at the other table. She swallowed quietly.
As if sensing something, the calm Qiu Qiqian instinctively tightened her legs together. The soft smack of her thighs quickly meeting startled even Mo Ling, who was sitting across the table.
“Huh? Miss Qiu, what’s wrong?”
“Uh… no… nothing, my body just twitched suddenly.”
Qiu Qiqian waved her hand in “explanation.”
Mo Ling saw that her expression hadn’t changed, so she took it at face value and continued looking down at her game.
‘Guh… what was that feeling just now? Could someone be out to get me? No way, I haven’t offended anyone yet.’
‘Besides, if someone really wanted to harm me… they’d have to get past that girl Li Meng first.’
Qiu Qiqian shook her head, clearing away the stray thoughts, chalking it up to a random body twitch.
Just then, Yao Xueyue returned, looking a bit dejected.
“What’s wrong? Something on your mind?”
Qiu Qiqian turned around and asked.
“Ugh, my dad’s business friend’s father passed away. He told me to go to the funeral in his place and to drag a few people along.”
“Funerals… you need to recruit new people to attend?”
Mo Ling’s expression twisted slightly.
“Don’t tell me it’s like ‘get a certain number of new attendees and get an extra funeral for free.'”
Yao Xueyue shot her a glare, ignored her comment, and continued explaining.
“That guy’s father apparently loved big scenes when he was alive, so his son wants a lot of people at his funeral. As a reward, we can stay for free at one of their family’s resort hotels for three days, with all expenses covered.”
“Three days?”
Mo Ling’s eyes lit up. She had been feeling bored lately, and going to a resort hotel would be a nice diversion.
But the biggest problem was…
“Will the Association approve three days off for you?”
Qiu Qiqian raised the fatal question.
“Yeah, how would they approve it?”
Mo Ling also frowned.
With the recent high frequency of Guiyi appearances, asking for leave to go on a—no, to attend a funeral, especially for someone unrelated, was hard to justify.
“You can relax on that. My dad somehow got word that a few Lingxun are coming to handle some affairs and will help deal with the local Guiyi. So… taking leave shouldn’t be a big problem. Miss Li Meng should know about this, right?”
“Ah? Yes!”
Li Meng pulled her hands back under the table, widened her eyes, and nodded.
“It’s true. Though I don’t know most of those people, there’s one named Xia Xinglian that rings a bell.”
“Never heard of her… So, are you planning to go?”
Qiu Qiqian asked Li Meng.
“Hmm… I’m fine either way. What do you think, Xiao Qian?”
Li Meng tossed the question back to Qiu Qiqian.
“Well… since you’re willing to go, I don’t have a choice but to come along.”
Qiu Qiqian flipped her hair and muttered quietly.
Yao Xueyue furrowed her brow, glancing at the two of them. She felt something was off, but couldn’t quite put her finger on it.