Chapter 189: Filial Piety
As an NPC in an instance, one shouldn’t even understand what the word “player” means.
Just like the director and the female lead Ning Xue in this instance—they believed the players were simply ordinary people like themselves.
To them, they had gathered here just to shoot a film. The instance was its own world, and the people living in it had thoughts and personalities. They didn’t know they were just NPCs designed to help players complete their tasks.
But Li Jianxi had always known—since the moment he gained awareness—that players and NPCs were different.
He knew he was an NPC, and he knew these people arriving from different worlds were players trying to complete tasks and leave alive.
Unlike other NPCs who would vanish as the current instance collapsed, he retained the memories of every instance. He remembered every player he had ever met in this endless world of instances.
He said he was born an NPC—but how could a real NPC know they were an NPC?
It was all just a massive lie the system created to imprison him.
“I saw you standing on a long stairway to heaven. One end led to a divine throne, the other to hell,” Li Zhi recalled that scene. Though she had only glimpsed it once from afar, the grand image had left an unforgettable impact. “You stood before the divine throne, seemingly speaking with someone. I think it was the [Specter].”
Li Jianxi’s expression froze. After a while, he asked softly, “Did I choose hell?”
Li Zhi nodded lightly. “You walked into hell.”
The price of choosing hell was forgetting all your memories and becoming a forever-trapped NPC within the instance.
Yet he had chosen hell over the divine throne—what terrible cost must one pay to sit upon that throne towering above all?
Li Zhi already had a guess in her heart.
“You once said, the first time you saw me, you felt I was familiar, like you had seen me somewhere before. You felt that way with another NPC in a different instance, too,” she said, looking into his clear eyes. “That feeling of familiarity wasn’t because you had seen us before.”
Li Jianxi’s breath caught.
“It’s because you saw your former self in us. Li Jianxi, we’re the same kind of people.”
They were the same kind of people.
The ones who clung to their beliefs, who valued life, who kept searching for a way out even when the world was swallowed in darkness.
The first time he helped her was when she escaped the ancestral hall in the newbie instance, carrying her dead teammate’s body.
Li Jianxi had witnessed it all. He saw her turn back alone when everyone else was fleeing.
He saw her angry, hard gaze when she failed to save her teammate and could only drag half the body out.
He saw her dig a grave in the woods to bury the corpse, then vomit while holding onto a tree.
That must have been her first time seeing a dead body.
Li Jianxi had no memory, but still felt the familiarity.
Because he had once been that kind of person, too—
Someone who turned back to save others in danger,
Who raged at the loss of life,
Who, with each fallen teammate, strengthened his resolve to defy the system.
And ultimately, he did it.
When faced with the choice of joining the system on the throne or giving up his humanity and descending into hell,
He had chosen hell without hesitation.
If even this final choice was a form of resistance, then when he made that decision at a great cost, the system must have suffered a severe consequence as well.
For an ordinary person, learning that their existence was a lie would be deeply unsettling—whether they believed they were an NPC and were told they were human, or believed they were real only to be told they were a fictional NPC.
But Li Jianxi was clearly not ordinary.
To be the one who stood before the system and made the final choice, he must have been, and could only have been, the most popular player in his world.
To be that world’s top player, revered almost like a god, his capabilities must have been top-tier in every aspect.
He didn’t panic. He simply furrowed his brow and asked Li Zhi, “If we’re the same kind of people, then when facing that final choice… would you make the same one I did?”
Li Zhi hadn’t expected that to be his first concern after learning the truth about himself.
If she were the one standing on the stairway, would she choose the throne—or hell?
Suddenly, Li Jianxi grabbed her hand.
His fingers were long, distinct, and strong. Holding her like this felt like he was giving her boundless strength. His voice was low and firm: “No. You can’t choose like I did. There must be a third option.”
There had to be a third option.
Zhi Zhi couldn’t end up like him—trapped in an instance, a forever wandering shell.
Li Zhi looked at him for a moment, then leaned in and gently hugged him.
Smiling, she said, “Of course.”
As she melted into his arms, Li Jianxi’s mind was suddenly filled with images of their intimate moments back in Butterfly Village. Back then, they had no awareness—everything had been instinctual. Now, holding her truly, he finally understood what an embrace meant.
With his face pressed to her neck, he could smell her unique, clean scent. After a long moment, he murmured, “Zhi Zhi.”
“Mm?”
“I like you.”
That sentence should’ve come before the kiss.
Li Zhi suddenly recalled a line she’d read online once: A real relationship should begin with a proper confession. Buried against his neck, she chuckled. “Li Jianxi, I bet you used to be a very romantic person.”
What kind of person had he been before? Did he have a family? What kind of world had he lived in?
Li Jianxi closed his eyes without answering, only held her tighter.
The jammer could block the outside viewers, but not the system, which was the instance itself. Li Zhi hadn’t told him what the real-world authorities already knew, in case the system caught wind.
With Li Jianxi’s extraordinary willpower and ability, knowing that he had once been a player was enough.
Outside the instance, the audience, blocked from seeing the footage, were losing their minds:
【What the hell is this VIP for if I still can’t watch everything!!!】
【Why can’t we see the couple confessing! I want to see! Show me!】
【When I said I wanted a censored shot I didn’t mean ACTUALLY censor it!】
【Even though I can only see a blurry hug, it’s still so, so sweet~ heehee】
【Zhi-Xi forever! They’re the sweetest!】
...
Half an hour later, the crew came to notify everyone to get ready to depart.
When getting on the vehicle, Li Zhi saw that the driver’s seat was occupied by Li Feng. Lu Caiwei quietly explained, “The driver from last night ran off. We’ve already covered for it with the director.”
The driver had just been an ordinary man—after last night’s ghost encounter and death, it wasn’t surprising he bolted. Li Feng driving was a safer bet anyway.
The players boarded one after another. The director had originally arranged a business car for Li Jianxi, but seeing him board the minibus with Li Zhi, he wisely kept his distance.
The director and Ning Xue’s car led the way, with the whole crew, cast, and equipment heading to the next filming location.
They switched from highway to national road, and finally onto a rugged mountain road. Aside from rest stops, they drove nearly ten hours. By evening, a desolate mountain village finally came into view.
The car bumped along the narrow village path, gravel crunching under the tires. Many fields had long since been abandoned, though some green vegetables still grew in front of a few tile-roofed houses.
Apparently, outsiders hadn’t visited in a long time. As the cars rolled in, villagers tending to crops came out to gawk curiously.
At the parking area stood an elderly man leaning on a cane. As the director got out, he approached excitedly and shook his hand. “Hello! You must be Director Wang, right? I’m the head of Songqin Village. We spoke earlier.”
“Nice to meet you, Chief!” the director shook his hand enthusiastically. “Thank you for letting us film here!”
“Not at all! I should be thanking you for funding the installation of power lines and running water. It’s made life much easier for the old folks left behind.” The village chief spoke sincerely. “I still don’t know what’s so film-worthy about our place, but whatever you need to shoot, shoot away! We old folks will fully cooperate!”
He then pointed toward a row of rundown factory buildings nearby. “Those were built by a mining company that came years ago. After they left, the buildings were abandoned. I’ve had them cleaned out—you’ll be staying there.”
Ning Xue interjected, “You had a mine here?”
Then why did the village still look so poor?
The chief gave her a glance and smiled bitterly. “No real mine. It was a surveying error. After digging for a year with nothing to show, they left. They tore up the whole village, even ruined our fields. Everyone quit farming to dig for gold, and the next year we had to buy all our food.”
In remote villages that usually lived off the land, losing a harvest meant buying everything the next year.
Ning Xue scoffed and lost interest in asking more.
But the village chief stared at her for a few more moments, eyes measuring. Ning Xue frowned and turned away in annoyance. “Director, I’m tired!”
The director quickly said, “Chief, we’ll move in first. Please help arrange dinner for everyone. We’ll rest tonight and start filming tomorrow.”
Though old, the chief still looked sharp. He smiled, “No problem. I’ll have it delivered once it’s ready.”
The vehicles parked right outside the factory buildings for easy unloading. As the players carried equipment inside, Ning Xue and Jiang Can had already inspected all the rooms and stood at the entrance sulking. “These buildings are made of plastic steel and stink! They’re old and nasty—how can we stay here?”
The director glanced nervously toward Li Jianxi in the distance, then quickly pulled her aside. “This is the best we’ve got. You saw the conditions—we’re here to make a film! Actors must have dedication. Only by enduring hardship can you rise to the top. How else will we make an award-winning movie? How can you shoot to fame overnight?”
His persuasion skills were solid, but Ning Xue was unmoved. “I’m not staying here! That smell is unbearable!” She pointed to the unused houses nearby. “There are plenty of empty houses! Tell the village chief to clean one up for me—I’ll stay there.”