Yan Xiu raised an eyebrow.

Seeing this, Shen Lin felt as if the most embarrassing secret of his entire adolescence had been exposed. His face flushed all the way to his ears, and he quickly snatched the bookmark back from Yan Xiu’s hand.

“Thank you for picking up the book for me.” Shen Lin fumbled, stuffing both the book and the bookmark back into his bag. He clutched the bag tightly, eyeing Yan Xiu warily.

Yan Xiu couldn’t help but laugh at his nervous, hamster-like actions. His cold, hard features softened slightly, making him look impossibly handsome.

Shen Lin turned his gaze away. His stomach twisted with pain again, and his face turned pale as he rummaged through his bag, finding only an empty bottle.

“You’re sick,” Yan Xiu’s voice was low, “You should get treated.”

Shen Lin fell silent. His stomach medicine had run out. It was a special kind of medicine that his mother had brought from abroad.

Yan Xiu rummaged through his pocket and pulled out two individually wrapped cookies, each only about the size of half a finger. He handed them to Shen Lin, saying, “Eat something first. I’ll go buy you some food.”

Shen Lin didn’t take them.

Yan Xiu’s voice suddenly turned cold. “Listen to me.”

He paused for a moment, thinking, How dare he speak to me like that? But with Yan Xiu’s fierce expression and the cold tone in his voice, Shen Lin bit his lip and reluctantly took the cookies from his hand.

The cookies looked like the small snacks handed out to customers waiting outside stores. Shen Lin clenched them in his hand, still politely saying to Yan Xiu, “Thank you.”

I’ll be back soon.” Yan Xiu repeated again. After changing his clothes, he covered Shen Lin with a down jacket, gently patted Shen Lin’s head, and pushed the door out.

After he left, Shen Lin stared at the biscuit for a while. It was from an unknown brand¹, made from very cheap ingredients. If it were with some lady, she wouldn’t even let him touch it—completely unbranded.

Shen Lin: “…”

He decided to give it a try.

He opened the biscuit package carefully and took a bite. The milk fragrance spread across his lips and teeth, and Shen Lin’s eyes became teary. He quickly finished the biscuit in just a few bites.

There was one more piece.

Shen Lin: “…”

He silently opened the biscuit package and ate it uncontrollably, his hoarse voice murmuring, “I never realized this stuff is actually pretty good.”

He could still feel the warmth left by the man’s gentle touch on his head.

Shen Lin sniffled, curled back into bed. The down jacket was too warm, and his body was too tired. Gradually, darkness overtook him, and he fell asleep again.

When he woke up, he found himself sleeping in a warm embrace. The rumbling sound of the train filled the air, and sunlight filtered through the gaps in the old curtains, casting straight lines across the room. The smell of porridge lingered in the air.

His body stiffened as he slowly raised his head and saw a chin that had grown some stubble. The man, sleeping peacefully, looked like a fallen prince, his features handsome and deep, with an air of mystery that was difficult to grasp.

…But the current problem was, how did he end up in this man’s arms?!

At this moment, a low voice came from above. Shen Lin noticed that Yan Xiu’s expression was natural. If he acted overly dramatic, it would seem odd. He responded perfunctorily, suppressing the turmoil inside and keeping his expression calm.

Yan Xiu loosened his embrace and sat up. He was tall, slightly lowering his head, with half of his body hanging over the edge of the bed. His long legs were placed on the floor, and his pale, cold eyes looked at Shen Lin.

“You fell asleep last night, couldn’t wake you up, and you were freezing.”

Shen Lin: “Oh.”

Yan Xiu: “Get up and drink some porridge.”

He shook his head. “I need to brush my teeth first.”

“Young master temper²,” Yan Xiu chuckled.

Yan Xiu waited for him to finish washing up and then served him a bowl of white porridge. Shen Lin took a sip, and with a look of contentment and happiness, he said, “This porridge tastes really good.”

Yan Xiu smiled slightly. “The rice isn’t great; I soaked it in water for a while.”

“You know how to cook,” Shen Lin said in surprise. “Where did you get the rice cooker?”

Yan Xiu: “It’s okay, the aunt³ next door lent it to me. I told her my little brother was sick.”

Shen Lin: “Oh.⁴“

The two of them chatted casually. Yan Xiu asked, “You’re still underage, right? Why are you going to such a distant place? Did you run away from home?”

Shen Lin paused in his eating, then casually admitted, “I’m going on a pilgrimage.”

“A pilgrimage?” Yan Xiu looked at him in confusion. “A young person’s game?”

Shen Lin didn’t respond directly and instead asked, “What about you?”

Yan Xiu fell silent, sitting on the opposite bunk. The curtain was half-drawn, allowing a sliver of sunlight to spill in, casting half of his face in light while the other half remained shrouded in the shadow of the curtain. This accentuated his mysterious aura, as if his entire being was filled with untold stories.

“I don’t remember,” Yan Xiu suddenly said. “I’ve lost some memories. I used to be a soldier, but after I retired, a portion of my memories from before my discharge disappeared.”

“Selective amnesia?” Shen Ling guessed with a serious tone, though his speculation was entirely off the mark. “It’s a common symptom of PTSD. People tend to subconsciously avoid painful memories. You must have experienced something during your service—a breakup? No, that can’t be it, who would you date in the military? The death of a comrade? A major illness? Or…” he asked mysteriously, “a power struggle?”

Yan Xiu chuckled at his words. “You have quite the imagination.”

Shen Ling: “…” That didn’t sound like a compliment.

He put down his bowl and let out a long sigh. “It must be nice to lose your memory. Sometimes I wish I could forget everything too. If I didn’t recognize anyone, all the troubles people bring would disappear. I wouldn’t have to pretend or force myself to conform. Unfortunately, I have a good memory—photographic, even. I remember everything clearly.”

“Narcissist.”

“Seriously,” Shen Ling retorted, unwilling to back down. “I could have gotten into Tsinghua or Peking University without a problem.”

Yan Xiu looked at him with surprise and envy. “Impressive. I was never good at studying.”

“Anyone can memorize things…” Under Yan Xiu’s sincere gaze, Shen Ling felt a bit embarrassed. He rummaged through his bag and pulled out a flyer, spreading it out for Yan Xiu to see.

It was a promotional poster made by a school club, A4-sized and filled with text of varying sizes. Shen Ling explained, “The train we’re on now is traveling along the longest railway in the world. This railway was built in the 19th century, stretching over 9,000 kilometers. It spans a quarter of the Earth’s circumference, taking us from cities to grasslands, coniferous forests, across mountains, jungles, snowfields, and back to cities. It’s as if the journey symbolizes a cycle with a beginning and an end, but the scenery along the way is ever-changing⁵. Many people consider it a pilgrimage to find inner peace. By my estimate, we should be reaching the grasslands now. Look—”

Shen Ling stood up and walked to the window. With a loud whoosh, he pulled the half-open curtain all the way down. “This grassland is famous—wait! Wait, wait, wait—” His voice suddenly rose in pitch as he stared in horror at the world outside the window.

What lay before him was an endless⁶ expanse of darkness. Bioluminescent plants and animals floated in the gloom, serving as scattered light sources in this murky world. By the faint, sporadic glimmers, one could barely make out schools of fish drifting by and massive sea creatures lurking in the depths.

The train continued to rumble on. Just beyond the door, someone was speaking rapidly on the phone in a dialect, their intonation rising and falling, firmly grounding the scene in reality.

Shen Ling rubbed his eyes and looked out the window again.

A swarm of glowing jellyfish drifted past, illuminating the surreal world outside. Thick, lush seaweed swayed in the deep green waters, their fleshy leaves waving lazily. Schools of brightly colored fish darted back and forth among bizarrely shaped coral reefs.

In the distance, what appeared to be a massive palace, long buried in the ocean depths, revealed only a fleeting, indescribable corner whenever the light flashed. Enormous stone pillars stretched toward the dome above, their surfaces clogged with thick, green sludge. Just one glance was enough to make Shen Ling’s heart race uncontrollably, as if something unspeakably sinister lurked behind the sludge.

Shen Ling was utterly stunned.

Yan Xiu asked, “Does this railway have an underwater tunnel?”

Shen Ling shook his head stiffly, like a puppet. “No.”

Yan Xiu frowned. “Then what is this?”

“Even if it did, it wouldn’t be this deep. Did you see that fish hiding in the reef earlier? That was an anglerfish⁷—it lives in the abyssal zone! Are you crazy, or am I?”

Yan Xiu: “…”

Yan Xiu’s mind was in complete chaos. “I can’t make sense of this situation.”

Shen Ling was still trying to process what was happening before his eyes. “I can’t either, but we need to figure something out.” He pulled out his phone. The signal bar showed zero, and the battery was draining at a visibly rapid pace. He rolled up his sleeve and glanced at his watch. The hour, minute, and second hands were spinning at an incomprehensible speed. With a sharp crack, the sapphire crystal face—second only to diamond in hardness—shattered into a spiderweb of cracks without any external force. The shards even began to float upward, defying gravity!

“What the hell…” Shen Ling felt like all the science he had studied over the years had been utterly wasted.

“Look,” Yan Xiu suddenly called out to him.

Shen Ling turned to the window. Something was drifting through the dark, murky ocean—a formless, sludge-like mass that seemed to dissolve into the seawater. As it drew closer, the faint outline of tentacle-like appendages became visible. Before Shen Ling could get a closer look at what it was, the creature slammed into the window, its suction cups gripping the glass tightly. It began to pull the entire train upward, tossing the nineteen-carriage train around as if it were a lump of clay.

In that moment, Shen Ling felt as though he could hear a voice from the depths of the ocean. He wasn’t sure if it was truly a sound, but for now, he gave it that definition. It echoed clearly in his mind, accompanied by a bone-chilling laughter.

It said—

“Welcome to the game room of the Arbiter. I will grant you a chance to survive.”

His consciousness gradually faded.

On the isolated island, the sound of waves was clear, and the ground trembled.

Six people sat around a table with a dice placed on it.

The rule card in front of them clearly stated:

Welcome to the Game Room of Luck Supremacy. The rules are as follows:

The dice determines everything, including your initial attributes;

This is a free world, feel free to explore;

Either escape from here or die.

When Shen Ling opened his eyes again, this was the scene before him. All six people, including himself, wore expressions of utter confusion.

He felt this journey was absolutely terrible, but what gave him some comfort was that the stranger he had met on the train, Yan Xiu, was also among the six.

“Um…” After a period of eerie silence, the bespectacled man sitting across from Shen Ling asked softly, “Does anyone know what’s going on? What’s happening here?”

No one answered, because no one had a clue.

Until someone broke the silence again.

“Guess.”

Shen Ling: “………………”
Bro, you’re not being cheeky—you’re just asking for a beating⁸.

1. “三无产品” (literally “three no products”) is often used to describe products that lack brand recognition, quality certification, and a clear manufacturer. ↩︎
2. 少爷脾气:refers to a typical young master’s attitude, implying someone who is accustomed to being spoiled, self-centered, and expecting things to be done their way ↩︎
3. 阿姨 (aunt): is commonly used in China to address or refer to an older woman, typically someone of the same generation as one’s parents, even if they are not related ↩︎
4. 噢 (Oh): used by Shen Lin here is a common casual expression in Chinese, often used to acknowledge something without much emotional investment. It represents politeness and acknowledgment in conversation ↩︎
5. 千变万化 : This chengyu means “ever-changing” or “myriad of changes.” It is used to describe something that is constantly transforming, such as the scenery along the railway journey ↩︎
6. 一望无际: This chengyu means “as far as the eye can see” or “boundless.” It describes the vast, endless darkness outside the window ↩︎
7. this boi
   ↩︎
8. 讨打 : This means “asking for a beating” or “being deliberately provocative” ↩︎