Lan Bo slowly came to, opening his eyes wearily to find himself sitting on the floor. He reached up to rub his aching neck, and his fingertips suddenly brushed against a cold object.
A steel suppressor was locked onto the gland at the back of his neck. Since the needle was embedded in his cervical vertebrae, it hurt a little, but fortunately, this wasn’t his first time wearing it, so he quickly got used to it.
“Huh?” Lan Bo looked around. The room’s wallpaper was yellow, and the lighting wasn’t dim; the entire room was fairly bright. Not far from him was a kitchen counter with a sink, and a wok sat on an induction cooktop. The wallpaper behind the wine rack had a slight pinkish tint.
The room had no windows, only two doors facing each other. The doors had no keyholes, only keypad locks; it seemed they could only be opened by entering a code.
Lan Bo crawled over to the door opposite and sniffed. The two doors were identical in construction, but next to this one was not a keypad, but a fingerprint lock.
“What the hell is this?” Lan Bo instinctively pressed his finger against it. The fingerprint lock suddenly lit up red and emitted a shrill error tone.
“Don’t press it.”
A voice rang out beside him.
Lan Bo jumped in surprise and turned around, but there was no one behind him. He realized the voice was coming from the earpiece he was wearing.
“Randi?” Hearing Bai Chunnian’s voice, Randi immediately calmed down, wagging the tip of his tail in a heart shape. “Are you okay? Where are you?”
“I don’t know. I woke up here, and they’ve even strapped a suppressor on me. I threw up. I never want to wear this thing again in my life.”
The room Bai Chunian was in also had bright, golden-yellow walls. Along the wall was a marble sink, with a half-length square mirror hanging above it. On the left wall was a round, retractable mirror, while on the right was a bathroom with a separate wet and dry area, next to which was the toilet.
The wall on the side of the wet area and toilet wasn’t covered in wallpaper; instead, it was tiled with red ceramic tiles to prevent water splashes from damaging the wallpaper.
Similarly, this room also had two doors facing each other—one could only be opened with a password, and the other only with a fingerprint.
Bai Chunian stood with his back to the mirror, straining to see the suppressor on the back of his neck. This suppressor was different from the ones he’d worn before; the transparent section at the back contained a blue liquid.
“When Han called me, he said he’d found a blue chemical—toxic, capable of killing test subjects. I can’t help but feel like this thing on my neck is exactly that. Damn it.”
Lan Bo: “I don’t have a mirror here, so I can’t see it. But it should be the same, right?”
Bai Chunian strained to catch a glimpse of his back in the mirror: “There’s even a tag hanging here that says… ‘Forced dragging or triggering the alarm may activate the self-destruct sequence.’ Don’t go pressing buttons randomly.”
“Oh, I already pressed it.”
“Did you figure out the code?”
“I was just pressing buttons at random.”
Ding!
Lan Bo’s code pad beeped once, and a green light came on.
At the same time, his fishtail lit up—it turned red, and its scales glowed gold.
His companion ability, Koi Blessing, didn’t consume gland energy and didn’t require him to actively use it, so naturally, it wasn’t restricted by the suppressor.
Bai Chunian: “Oh, right.”
Lan Bo: “The code is 89456. The green light came on, so it must be right, but the door won’t open—I can’t pull it or push it.”
Bai Chunian: “ “Uh, hold on a sec. Let me take a look.”
He lifted the toilet seat, fished around in the water, but found nothing. He rummaged through the trash can, but came up empty-handed as well. So he leaned his hands on the sink and stared into space for a moment. In the mirror, he noticed a black circular hole in the corner of the ceiling—a security camera was recording.
“Those bastards brought us here; they’re probably watching us make fools of ourselves on the camera right now,” Bai Chunian said casually as he washed his hands with soap.
The bathroom was cramped, nowhere near as spacious as the triangular cabin of the Formless Stealthers, and there wasn’t much in the way of furnishings. Bai Chunian searched every nook and cranny he could find, but there were no clues.
“I found a bottle of wine. Can I drink it?” Lan Bo asked.
Bai Chunian stopped him. “Put it back… Wait, what does it say on the label?”
Lan Bo read it out word for word: “It says… ‘W-i-n-e.’”
Bai Chunian: “That’s it?”
Lan Bo: “I don’t recognize the rest.”
Bai Chunian: “……”
Lan Bo: “Oh, there’s also a picture.”
Bai Chunian perked up: “What’s in the picture? Can you make out any numbers?”
Lan Bo: “Grapes.”
Bai Chunian laughed in exasperation. Whenever the mission required any intelligence, Lan Bo was basically useless.
He sat on the toilet deep in thought. He happened to look up and noticed that from this angle, he could see a red dot glowing from the circular security camera in the corner of the ceiling. The red light was very uncomfortable to the eyes; it didn’t look like the indicator light that shows the camera is active, but more like a laser.
“Hm?” Bai Chunian held out his hand and waved it in front of the camera, noticing the red light projected onto his palm, casting a clear arc.
“Oh, how boring.” Bai Chunian unscrewed the telescoping mirror from the wall and positioned it near the toilet. The red light reflected off the yellow wallpaper, revealing a clear string of numbers: “74692.”
He entered the sequence on the keypad. It beeped and a green light came on.
Bai Chunian gave the door a push, and the lock clicked open.
“Pfft, that’s it?” Bai Chunian scoffed as he put the telescopic mirror back in its place. He asked Lan Bo, “Did your door open?”
Lan Bo: “Nope.”
“No worries, don’t panic, buddy.” Bai Chunian reassured him, pushing the door open. Inside were two hospital beds, each with an IV stand beside it, and a sterilization cabinet nearby containing some common medications.
Opposite this door was another door, which also required a passcode.
Bai Chunian walked over quietly. Just as he reached the middle of the beds, the door behind him slammed shut and locked, sending a shiver down his spine.
At that moment, Lan Bo suddenly said, “My door opened.”
Bai Chunian: “I see. My door has to close before yours can open. “This side looks like a medical office. What about yours?”
Lan Bo: “A bathroom. There’s a toilet and a shower. The shower side has red tiles, and the sink side has yellow wallpaper.”
Bai Chunian froze: “So that’s the restroom I was just in.”
He hurried back to the door he’d just come through and knocked hard. “Lan Bo? We’re right next to each other—can you hear me knocking?” But on Bai Chunian’s side of the door, there was only a fingerprint lock; even if he knew the passcode, he couldn’t open it.
Lan Bo: “I can’t hear you. The door’s soundproof.”
Bai Chunian thought about it and realized he was right—otherwise, why would those bastards have left them the communicator?
“No problem. I just walked through that room; just enter 74692.”
“Oh.” Lan Bo entered the code as instructed, but the keypad suddenly lit up red and emitted a shrill error alarm.
Lan Bo: “Wrong.”
Bai Chunian was startled: “I didn’t give you the wrong code. Did you enter it incorrectly?”
Lan Bo: “I’ll try again.”
Bai Chunian: “Don’t! You’ve already messed up twice. If you try again, I’ll end up a widower. Go take down that round mirror on the wall, then sit on the toilet and reflect the laser beam from the machine in the corner of the ceiling onto the wallpaper.”
Lan Bo did as instructed: “The number is 14638.”
Bai Chunian: “…Looks like the code changes every time you unlock it… I got careless. Be careful when you press the buttons—I don’t want to end up a widower.”
A ding sounded from Lan Bo’s side. The code was correct, but the door wouldn’t open. It seemed that only after Bai Chunian entered the next room would Lan Bo’s door unlock.
“Let me see what’s in here.” Bai Chunian rummaged through the cabinet. “There’s a test tube rack on the top shelf.”
A single, unopened syringe sat in the rack. Bai Chunian pulled it out and held it up to the light. The liquid inside was clear, but the packaging bore no labels.
Whatever. I’ll just put it in my pocket for now.
Bai Chunian: “There’s only one syringe in the test tube rack. The desk is pretty clean.”
Next to the hospital bed, against the wall, stood a wrought-iron flower stand. On it were several pots of artificial flowers, with a small water spray bottle placed beside them. Hanging on the side of the stand was a tear-off calendar.
“……” Bai Chunian picked up the small spray bottle and sprayed it casually onto the calendar. A string of numbers appeared on the blank space of the page: “25319.”
He entered the code, and the keypad beeped as a green light lit up.
“Huh? Is that it?” Bai Chunian was a bit puzzled.
These passwords couldn’t be described as simple or difficult—they were just too conventional and convenient. It didn’t feel like a secret room; rather, it resembled the way the military handles passwords, where they change the code routinely to verify a soldier’s identity.
This type of password system is typically used in company offices with slightly higher security requirements—all you have to do is check the updated password during routine procedures.
Bai Chunian felt quite at ease. He pushed the door open and stepped inside. This time, it was a gym. He walked to the center of the room, and the door behind him slammed shut. At the same moment, the door on Lan Bo’s side swung open.
“You’re in the infirmary, right? There are two hospital beds,” Bai Chunian said.
Lan Bo gave a soft “Mm-hmm.”
Bai Chunian said cheerfully, “Oh, there’s a spray bottle on the flower stand. Just spray it on the calendar and you’ll see the code. I think this code changes once a day, not every time you unlock the door. It should be the same as the one I used to get in just now.”
Lan Bo, however, fell silent.
Bai Chunian: “What’s wrong?”
Lan Bo: “The test tube rack is empty. Did you take the syringe?”
Bai Chunian pulled the syringe out of his pocket: “Ah, right, I did.”
Lan Bo asked again: “What else did you see?”
Bai Chunian thought for a moment: “Artificial flowers, cold medicine, an IV stand.”
Lan Bo fell silent once more.
Bai Chunian suppressed his easy smile, leaned against the wall, and asked softly, “What’s wrong, baby?”
Lan Bo stood in the center of the medical room. The test tube rack on the cabinet beside him had toppled over. He looked down, his gaze cold as he stared at the corpse of a man in a researcher’s uniform lying face-down on the floor.
“You’re deceiving me. Do you think you can get away with this?” Lan Bo’s tone was icy as he asked the communicator indifferently, “You gave me the wrong password. You wanted to kill me. Who are you?”