The bed was empty, and through the gauzy curtains of the floor-to-ceiling windows, the faint outline of the night could be seen.

The blanket on the bed was disheveled, as if someone had just been lying there, making it seem as though if you reached out, you could still feel the lingering warmth of a person’s body.

Everything was just as Song Qinglan had seen it in the bubble world.

Song Qinglan stood there, his heart pounding.

In an instant, the sound of his heartbeat filled his eardrums, and it felt like blood rushed from his feet to his head. His entire body heated up as he finally understood what was happening.

He had never been moved before.

The first time he tasted this feeling, the person involved was entirely different from the youthful fantasies he had once harbored—different in appearance, personality, and even gender. None of it matched.

Yet the moment he belatedly received the signal from his heart, the feeling surged over him like a tidal wave, overwhelming him but feeling completely natural. It wasn’t a matter of things not matching or being incompatible—this was how it was supposed to be, how it should have been all along.

It turned out that all his irritation and frustration with Ji Yushi, all his trust and concern, weren’t without reason.

Damn.

Song Qinglan cursed his own cursed slowness, while at the same time feeling a stronger sense of frustration.

He couldn’t express it, couldn’t act on it. Just standing there made his body tingle, and his palms grew hot.

“Captain Song.”

Ji Yushi’s voice came from behind him.

Song Qinglan froze, almost slamming the door shut on reflex with a loud “bang” the moment he heard that voice.

He shut away those unspeakable, hidden desires. The blood that had rushed to his head began to flow back down, washing over his body like a tide.

Reality pulled his senses back to the present in an instant.

Song Qinglan turned around calmly, pretending nothing had happened.

He saw Ji Yushi walking down the corridor toward him, only about a dozen steps away.

Perhaps because the emotional shock had cleared his mind, Song Qinglan was suddenly reminded of the first time he saw Ji Yushi at the Sky Vault System’s Jiangcheng division.

At that time, Ji Yushi had stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows, backlit by the dazzling lights of the city, with a cold expression that was hard to forget.

But now, even in the deep corridor, without the backdrop of city lights, it was hard to ignore Ji Yushi’s cool and captivating presence.

When Ji Yushi reached him, he stopped. “What are you doing standing by the door?”

Song Qinglan: “…”

There was a half-head difference in their height, making Song Qinglan’s tall frame feel imposing. When he stood close, Ji Yushi always felt a sense of pressure.

This time was no different.

Song Qinglan’s expression was as usual, but the sense of pressure was even stronger, as if there was now an extra layer of emotion in Song Qinglan that was hard to decipher.

Having grown familiar with Song Qinglan’s habits, Ji Yushi didn’t step back. He simply stood calmly in place, one hand in his pocket. “Is there something in there?”

Song Qinglan responded unconvincingly, “Nothing, just my childhood room.”

Ji Yushi’s eyes shifted slightly with curiosity. “Your childhood room? Can I take a look?”

“…” Song Qinglan replied stiffly, “There’s nothing much to see, just some toys.”

He appeared expressionless, but he was thinking, what if Ji Yushi insisted on going in?

Wait a minute—since the Sky Vault System could change this place based on people’s subconscious needs, altering the illusion of this house shouldn’t be difficult either. But Song Qinglan wasn’t sure what they’d face if they opened the door again.

If nothing had changed, the situation would be… interesting—to say the least. Seeing his own bed and bedroom appear in someone else’s subconscious, Ji Yushi was too smart not to figure out the reason.

Song Qinglan would never allow that to happen.

The two stood face to face, three seconds of silence passing between them.

Song Qinglan: If the enemy doesn’t move, neither do I.

Luckily.

Ji Yushi didn’t seem to notice anything unusual and didn’t insist on seeing the room.

He pulled something out of his pocket and handed it to Song Qinglan. “I picked this up earlier. It’s for you.”

Song Qinglan took it skeptically and found that Ji Yushi had given him a small white starfish. It was tiny, with five arms, felt heavy in his hand, and still carried a faint scent of seawater. A strange feeling stirred in his heart, but Song Qinglan spoke coldly, “A starfish? Did you go to the beach?”

Sensing that something was off with Song Qinglan’s mood, Ji Yushi was puzzled.

Could it be that some men also have those days?

“Yes. My transit station happened to be at a beach I visited when I was seventeen,” Ji Yushi said. “Have you ever been to Kado?”

Kado was an island known for its blue waters and fine white sand, a popular vacation spot in recent years. But during their youth, Kado had been a lesser-known destination for people in their country.

“I’ve heard of it but never been,” Song Qinglan replied. “The year you went, I had already enlisted.”

After enlisting, Song Qinglan spent time in the special forces, and after retiring, he went straight into Sky Vault as a Guardian.

Time was precious, and work was busy. Even during holidays, Song Qinglan never had enough time or energy to plan a relaxing trip for himself.

Song Qinglan closed his hand around the starfish, feeling its damp, rough surface. “When I was a kid, I collected a lot of shells at the beach, but I never found a starfish.”

“I’ve never found one either,” Ji Yushi said.

Song Qinglan gave him a sideways look, as if asking, but didn’t you find one this time?

Ji Yushi replied, “Maybe our subconscious desires manifest through the Sky Vault System, which gives us what we want. Desires can’t be hidden from it—they’re all laid bare.”

Song Qinglan’s expression turned strange: “…”

Sensing something was off with Song Qinglan, Ji Yushi decided to end the conversation. “When we get back, if you ever get the chance, you should visit Kado and take a vacation. You might even find one.”

When we get back?

What kept them going was the thought of “when we get back.”

Unlike the bubble world, reality would return to normal for everyone, with no more episodes like Minister Qi’s causing Ji Yushi to fall into chaos. Song Qinglan wasn’t sure if they would stay in touch after they truly returned.

Suddenly bringing up this topic, Ji Yushi knew they wouldn’t be in the transit station for long.

To return, they had to complete the tasks assigned by the Sky Vault System. No matter how comfortable this custom-made transit station was, it was still just an illusion during the third second of their abduction—a mental break, but nothing more. The most important thing would always be reality.

Ji Yushi then mentioned the real reason he came to find Song Qinglan. “Captain Song, the others want to have a quick meeting.”

Song Qinglan was surprised. “So soon?”

Had they already had enough fun?

Ji Yushi said, “It’s all an illusion, so no one’s really drunk.”

Song Qinglan would have preferred if they were drunk. Right now, he didn’t want to have a meeting—he just wanted some peace and quiet.

But if Ji Yushi was willing to chat with him, he wouldn’t mind being alone with him.

Song Qinglan’s heart was still pounding. Being alone with Ji Yushi made him want to continue, yet also want to stop.

As they talked, they walked back out to where the others were still drinking and playing around. Zhou Mingxuan had returned and was leaning on a chair with a beer. When he saw Song Qinglan, he tossed him a can. “Captain Song!”

Song Qinglan caught the beer and gave him a look.

That look sent a shiver down Zhou Mingxuan’s spine, reminding him of the time he got caught by Song Qinglan stealing someone’s steamed bun in the army.

After Zhou Mingxuan shivered, he realized he hadn’t done anything wrong.

Song Qinglan opened the can and chugged half of it in one go. “So, what’s your plan now?”

The group gathered around, surprisingly energetic, with no sign of drunkenness.

They’d gone wild, they’d gotten drunk, and now they needed to decide when to start the mission. Otherwise, they might get endlessly lost in this illusion where anything they wanted could be theirs.

Li Chun was still holding a hookah, taking a deep drag with sweat dripping down his forehead. “As fun as this is, I feel uneasy inside. I was thinking, why don’t we set a time? Like, play for another ten days—”

Everyone looked at him.

Li Chun quickly stopped himself, almost tripping over his words. “I mean, seven days! After seven days, we start that stupid mission. That way, we can really relax for seven days and recharge. What do you guys think?”

“You still want ten days, seven days?” Duan Wen shoved him on the back of the head. “How about I give you half a month, and throw in a beauty to please your eyes?”

The group laughed.

“Don’t insult the beauties!”

“Believe me, Chun’er can have fun without a beauty!”

“How about we arrange a full bar and nightclub for you?”

“Then how many days do you guys want?”

Li Chun tossed the hookah, and as soon as it hit the ground, it vanished. Here, they were like gods, or perhaps, they had magic powers.

Li Chun held up three fingers: “How about three days?! Three days should be enough, right?”

Three days sounded like a good number.

But aside from Tang Le, who seemed slightly tempted, no one responded.

“Seriously?!” Li Chun looked on the verge of tears. “You think even three days is too much?”

Song Qinglan took another swig of beer. “Let’s hear everyone’s thoughts.”

As soon as he spoke, everyone stopped holding back. It was clear from his tone that Song Qinglan was serious.

“One more night of sleep should be enough,” Duan Wen said. “I want to start the mission as soon as possible. No matter how much time has passed in the real world, from my perspective, I want this to end quickly.”

Tang Qi: “I agree.”

Tang Le: “…”

Zhou Mingxuan, coolly: “Whether it’s another day or three days makes no difference to me, so I’d say the sooner, the better.”

That left only Ji Yushi, who hadn’t yet spoken.

Sensing everyone’s gaze, Ji Yushi calmly said, “Why don’t we first see what the next mission is?”

“That’s what I was thinking too.” Song Qinglan wiped the beer from his lips with his long fingers. “This time, let’s prepare ourselves before we go.”

With that, Song Qinglan, standing at the center of the group, opened the communicator.

“The next mission,” he said coldly, skipping any pleasantries.

The Sky Vault voice system responded to the call, quickly appearing: “It has been detected that you have completed an Ultra-S-level mission ‘Ouroboros,’ an A-level mission ‘Chaos,’ and an S-level derivative mission ‘Who Am I.’ You now have the ability to complete an Ultra-S-level mission. Therefore, your next mission will be Ultra-S-level. It is recommended that you fully rest before unlocking the next mission.”

The message was very familiar.

The last time they came to the transit station, the Sky Vault System disappeared after saying this, not giving them the chance to control how long they rested.

Everyone’s expressions darkened. Song Qinglan said, “If you shut down, I’ll refuse the mission. So what is the next mission?”

Everyone: “…”

The Sky Vault System responded gently, “Your next mission is ‘Rubik’s Cube.'”

As the voice finished speaking, the mission prompt appeared on the holographic projection.

[Mission Mode: Rubik’s Cube.]

[Mission Rule: Death Elimination.]

[Mission Goal: Assembly.]

Death elimination.

Ji Yushi’s pupils contracted sharply, memories of the Ouroboros mission flooding back.

Tang Qi being bitten to death by zombies, Duan Wen committing suicide, Zhou Mingxuan dying in a car… The deaths of his teammates, including his own, played out repeatedly in that terrifying world. Was it about to start again?

Seeing those two words, the group fell into a heavy silence.

Song Qinglan asked, “In this mission, is there a time anchor?”

A time anchor would mean they could respawn indefinitely.

Sky Vault: “I’m sorry, but no, this mission does not allow for a time anchor.”

“Damn it?”

“Fuck this, can we refuse the mission?”

“What do we have to do to get back?!”

Everyone’s emotions exploded. If the Sky Vault System had a physical form, it would have been torn apart at that moment.

But it was just a system, and even as it answered their questions, it remained mechanical: “You are very close to your goal.”

Once again, a vague answer. The group cursed, but no matter how they threatened or questioned, the system wouldn’t reveal any more useful information.

It wasn’t just the team that was agitated—even Song Qinglan felt the urge to snap. He said in a low voice, “Mission goal: Assembly—what does that mean? Be specific.”

In previous missions, the ambiguity of the goal had cost them a lot of time.

If they could figure out the goal faster, they might be able to minimize their losses and complete the mission quicker.

The Sky Vault System replied, “I don’t understand your question.”

It was just a system.

It seemed like giving a clear objective was the best it could do. In moments like this, artificial intelligence became artificial stupidity.

Ji Yushi asked, “Is there any other information you can give us?”

When Ji Yushi spoke, the group quieted down a bit.

It was as if Ji Yushi was their anchor, and as long as he could solve a problem, it was no longer a problem.

The Sky Vault System said, “In this mission, you will encounter other teams that I have recruited. This will be a multiplayer mission.”