“Xiao Qian, your foot is better?” Li Li was also surprised. He steadied her and looked her over. “It doesn’t hurt anymore?”

The girl stood in place looking mortified. “Uh… yes, well, I did twist it, but just now, all that jumping around… it kind of… twisted back.”

“Oh, so it twisted itself better! Lucky me!” Zhu Shu pressed her hand to her chest in exaggerated relief. “If I’d made your injury worse, Li Li would have had my head for it!”

“It’s not *that* dramatic…” Li Li rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. “No harm done — everyone sit back down and eat, come on…”

Su Man sat down in something of a daze. Then she filled her glass all the way to the brim and knocked it back in one go!

Li Li jolted. “What’s gotten into you now?! You can’t just knock wine back like that — what’ll you do if you get drunk?!”

“I’ll do as I please!” Su Man slammed the empty glass down with a thud, and immediately poured another. “Stay out of it!”

Li Li had no idea what had come over her. He muttered, “I couldn’t be less interested in managing you.”

Yan Qingwen watched them with an impassive expression, and after a moment his gaze settled on Zhu Shu, who was eating. He smiled and asked, “If I recall, there was a film festival one year — voting for Best Actress or some award like that… You attended, didn’t you?”

Zhu Shu looked briefly surprised, then laughed and waved her hand. “No, no — it was the New Talent Award, and I didn’t even win. I was only nominated.”

“Being nominated is still impressive,” Li Li said warmly in praise.

While they were chatting, a synchronized rhythm of footsteps came from the direction of the entrance.

Everyone who’d been eating and drinking stopped and turned to look.

It was Chu Huaijin, pushing Professor Song in.

This national treasure-level researcher — whom the higher-ups hadn’t hesitated to dispatch eight special intelligence units to locate — was now reclining in a wheelchair, being slowly pushed inside by Chu Huaijin.

Not everyone in a wheelchair was unable to walk; sometimes it was due to extreme age, or extreme frailty.

In Bai Youwei’s estimation, Professor Song was both.

His hair was entirely white, his skin deeply lined with age. He looked as though he might be in his seventies or eighties, and he slumped feebly in the wheelchair, his entire person radiating the desolate weariness of a life reaching its twilight.

“What happened to him?” Bai Youwei asked Shen Mo in a low voice.

Shen Mo murmured an explanation: “Professor Song has a son, also a researcher in the SCO. On the evacuation route, the son encountered a game and was turned into a puppet…”

He paused briefly, pressing his voice lower still: “Professor Song wasn’t always this old. He used an item to try to save his son — an item that lets you transfer the vitality of your own body to heal another person’s injuries. Unfortunately… even with the item, his son was never able to come out of the game.”

To lose a son in middle age — under a blow of that magnitude, there was nothing surprising about how a person might transform.

Bai Youwei nodded in quiet understanding.

Professor Song and Chu Huaijin made their way to the center of the banquet.

Chu Huaijin poured him half a glass of wine.

Professor Song raised his glass and said, “This toast is for all of you — thank you, everyone, for making the journey here.”

His voice sounded far younger than his face suggested.

Professor Song drank from his glass.

The guests watched him in silence, waiting for more.

“I’ve invited everyone here because there is a matter to discuss.” Professor Song said.

The air around them grew quieter still.

Everyone in the room understood perfectly — this banquet and warm reception were not simply about eating and drinking.

“Those of you present have each narrowly escaped death in games more than once. Your understanding of these games runs deeper than ordinary people’s, your experience is more extensive, and among you are veterans who have cleared labyrinths.”

Professor Song surveyed the room, his tone measured and calm.

“I expect some of you are already aware that the organization has been deeply troubled by Game 21 — the hide-and-seek game. To date, the total number of players who have cleared it is zero; there is virtually no strategy to speak of.

Just yesterday, the entire squad that entered Game 21 was annihilated — and Game 24 has also shifted position! If we don’t act soon, in seven days’ time, I’m afraid the urban district will be unable to escape disaster!”

—