2、The White Waiting Room ...
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Xiao Jingyan opened his eyes.
Blinding white.
He and Gu Qingchen sat side by side on a row of waiting-room chairs. The light above them was merciless, like an interrogation lamp pressed against their skin, burning into the eyes until they ached. Walls, ceiling, floor—even the shadows beneath their feet—all the same sterile white. The metal benches had been painted over too, but the cold hardness still seeped through, like they were sitting on a judge's bench awaiting sentence.
And then came the music.
The kind of piano piece one might hear in a hospital lobby—meant to be soft, calming. But here, it played on a loop so broken it kept cutting out midsong, leaving raw silence before jerking back into its opening notes again. Each rupture scraped against the eardrum like a dull, serrated knife.
The waiting room was full.
But its occupants were not entirely human.
They sat slumped with heads bowed, shoulders sagging, movements stiff. Skin pale to the point of bloodlessness, like thin sheets of paper trembling in the air. They made no sound, only waited in silence, row after row, like patients who would never hear their names called.
The oppressive stillness forced Xiao Jingyan's hand toward his hip—only to find nothing. No sidearm, no knife, not even the simplest weapon. Everything stripped away the moment he entered this place. He had been disarmed to the bone.
Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Gu Qingchen's movement.
Gu's fingers brushed lightly over the small cross at his throat. The silver pendant glimmered faintly under the harsh light.
Sensing his gaze, Gu looked up and said softly:
"Your wristband."
Xiao Jingyan blinked, then understood.
The cross was no mere trinket. It was Gu's version of his wristband. The system had given them each a different vessel, tailored to their image.
He raised his arm and tapped the band.
At once, a pale light-screen burst into being, flooding his vision like a cold curtain.
[You have entered D-Level Dungeon · The White Waiting Room]
[As a first-time streamer, you are granted one free chance to rename your livestream. Please use it now.]
"Rename my stream?" he muttered.
After a moment's thought, he typed in: Gorilla.
It was simple enough. At the base, the men around him had all been built like gorillas—broad shoulders, heavy arms, sweat soaking through t-shirts, bodies colliding like blunt weapons. If he needed a name, why not?
But before he confirmed, he asked quietly, "What's yours?"
Gu adjusted his glasses, embarrassed. "...Little Gu."
Xiao Jingyan: "..."
In silence, he erased Gorilla and replaced it with Little Gorilla.
His finger pressed confirm. A stray thought flitted across his mind:
Cute, isn't it?
The screen shifted instantly.
Now it was his livestream.
The camera locked directly onto him, framing him head to toe. Beside him, Gu appeared at the edge of the shot, only his profile visible. Two men sitting together, side by side. Strangely—almost fitting.
The realization tightened something in Xiao Jingyan's chest. He shoved the thought down.
Then the barrage began. Cold text flickered across the bottom corner of his vision:
[Fresh meat on stream.]
[Hope you die fast.]
[E-level? Won't last an hour.]
[Hahaha, let's see him cry.]
The words floated past, sharp and casual as knives.
Xiao Jingyan's brows drew tight. He had endured worse—screamed insults from drill sergeants, curses hurled like bullets meant to break you. But those had been for training, to forge steel from flesh. These comments were different. Utterly detached, as if the audience wasn't watching a man, but a disposable toy destined to bleed out for their entertainment.
He killed the stream with a flick. The screen vanished. White silence returned.
He opened the system shop.
And froze.
Everything was gray.
Even the lowest-tier E-level items were grayed out, locked.
He tapped one.
[Cost: 500 points]
[Your balance: 100 points]
"..."
He realized he didn't even have enough to buy a needle.
Before he could think further, the system voice cut through the air, echoing from nowhere and everywhere:
[Welcome, Streamers, to D-Level Dungeon · The White Waiting Room.]
[This is a timed dungeon: 12 hours.]
[Survive until the end and you clear it.]
[Note: Every player has a different starting survival time. Remaining time must be purchased with points.]
[We wish you all... a worthy death.]
The temperature in the room seemed to drop.
"...A worthy death?" Xiao Jingyan repeated under his breath.
It wasn't the cold of command. It was mockery—sick, playful, and inhuman.
The next announcement fell like a hammer:
[Initial Time Allocation:]
[Player Xiao Jingyan: 1 hour]
[Player Gu Qingchen: 3 hours]
Numbers blazed across his screen.
Xiao Jingyan's stomach clenched.
One hour.
If he did nothing, he would be dead within sixty minutes.
Gu, at least, had three.
So much for equal footing. This wasn't a game. It was rigged survival.
Gu saw his expression and spoke gently: "It's alright. You can earn points. There are hidden tasks in every dungeon. Complete them, and you'll get time."
His voice was calm, soothing—like a doctor reassuring a patient. Not like someone trapped in a white hell.
Xiao Jingyan forced himself to breathe and opened the task panel.
Three lines glowed faintly:
[Main Task: Survive 12 hours.]
[Side Tasks: ???]
[Hidden Tasks: ???]
All cloaked in fog.
He shut the panel, lifted his head.
The "patients" sat motionless, skin papery and ghost-pale, their silence thick under the white light.
The piano loop broke again, restarting with a jolt.
And Xiao Jingyan understood—
His one hour had already begun to tick away.
作者有话说
第2章 The White Waiting Room
