Chapter 82: South Street Apartments
The small fresh market at the end of the street really did sell a bit of everything.
Besides vegetables, flowers, and fruit, they even sold stir-fried noodles and rice. Li Zhi ordered two portions of fried noodles and browsed around while waiting. She spotted a bouquet of lilies standing in a water bucket—the exact same kind of fragrant lilies Chu Guangyan had been holding earlier.
Li Zhi picked out a few stems herself, pulled down a plastic bag from the wall, and selected a few apples before heading over to the counter to pay.
The shopkeeper pulled out an old newspaper from beneath the counter, wrapping the flowers carefully before handing them over. “These are easy to keep,” the shopkeeper said warmly. “Just change the water often—they’ll bloom for days.”
Li Zhi smiled and took the bouquet with a nod of thanks.
By the time she made her way back, she hadn’t even reached the apartment entrance before Li Jianxi stepped out, opening the electronic gate and taking the plastic bag from her hands. From the bouquet she unwrapped, Li Zhi pulled out a single lily and reached through the guardhouse window, setting it gently inside.
The tiny space was instantly filled with the heavy fragrance of lilies.
Li Jianxi froze, glancing at her in surprise.
Li Zhi smiled sweetly. “It’s for you.”
For a brief moment, Li Jianxi couldn’t seem to breathe properly, staring into her smiling eyes as though time itself had stopped. After several seconds of silence, he finally murmured, “Thank you… I like it.”
The golden hues of sunset painted the sky, and the two stood under that dim glow, locked in eye contact—a scene that immediately sent the livestream chat spiraling into chaos:
【FLOWERS!!! He got flowers!!! Little Li never expected to receive flowers in his life, much less as an NPC!】
【What’s going through your head right now, Li Jianxi? Planning your wedding already?】
【Not to kill the mood, but… I don’t think Li Zhi actually likes Li Jianxi romantically. She looks at him like he’s a puzzle she’s curious about.】
【Same, honestly. I think the flowers were just a thank-you for the healing potion he gave her earlier. Li Zhi always looks too clear-headed. I don’t believe she’d fall for an NPC.】
【C’mon, people, ship for fun—but don’t take it seriously. This pairing’s doomed to BE (bad ending) from the start.】
【That gaze though! No one can resist the way Li Zhi looks at people—it’s always intense. How can anyone not fall for that stare?!】
【Nonsense! My CP (ship) is real and mutual! They’re destined!】
———
By dinnertime, the players who had spent the day scouring for clues gathered once more to exchange information. While Li Zhi had been out buying noodles, Fu Huan had already told everyone about Qiao Junyuan’s behavior, and now the others were visibly on guard around him.
Qiao Junyuan sat alone in the corner, isolated from the group, looking quite pitiful on screen.
But neither the players nor the audience were fooled by that harmless appearance anymore—anyone willing to betray teammates in a dungeon wasn’t some helpless little lamb.
Outside, nightfall came swiftly. The brilliant colors of sunset that painted the sky earlier had long since faded. By the time they finished eating, darkness had swallowed everything. Everyone quickly packed up and retreated to their respective rooms. Yuan Cheng’s group was more than happy to welcome Li Feng into their fold, while Qiao Junyuan walked back alone to the third floor.
Li Zhi carried her flowers and fruit up to the second floor. The corridor’s red lanterns were already lit, their faint crimson glow saturating the hall with a creeping, eerie atmosphere.
When she stopped at Room 205, the two lanterns hanging outside the neighboring rooms swayed gently, casting rippling shadows across 205’s door. Li Zhi took out her key, opened the door, and walked in calmly, flipping on the light.
Seeing the apples on the table, Meng Yuhan’s eyes brightened. “Zhizhi-jie, are these for after dinner?”
Li Zhi smiled and handed her one. “You can have one, but the rest—we’re bringing them to visit a neighbor.”
Meng Yuhan obediently placed the apple back. “Then I won’t eat it yet. When are we going?”
Li Zhi set the flowers on the bed and picked up the bag of apples. “Right now.”
The sky wasn’t fully dark yet, and judging by the time, Chu Guangyan’s soup should be ready by now. The two of them left again and headed up to the third floor. Compared to the oppressive gloom of the second floor, the third floor felt relatively normal under its yellowing ceiling lights—no crimson lanterns, no ghostly shadows.
As they passed by Room 304, the door stood ajar, though the room itself remained dark.
Through the faint light from the hallway, they could see someone standing on a chair inside, changing a lightbulb.
“All done. Try switching it on.”
It was Chu Guangyan’s voice.
A moment later, Qu Rong flipped the switch. The light flickered on, illuminating a neat, modest room.
From where Li Zhi stood at the door, she took the opportunity to quickly scan the interior. Clean and minimalist, exactly as she’d expected from Qu Rong. The signs of regular habitation were clear: a bookshelf crammed with books sat near the window, stacks of notebooks and pens cluttered the desk, alongside a closed laptop.
On the small dining table in the center sat a bowl of corn and pork rib soup with a plate of side dishes—clearly Chu Guangyan’s handiwork.
The silhouettes at the doorway caught attention immediately. After a beat, Li Zhi broke the silence with a cheerful voice: “Hi, Qu Rong. My sister and I brought you some fruit.”
“You really didn’t need to…” Qu Rong stepped out, ruffling Meng Yuhan’s hair affectionately before accepting the apples. “I was just about to eat. Have you had dinner?”
“Already ate,” Li Zhi replied with a smile. “Just figured—we’re new neighbors, should at least say hello properly.” Her gaze flicked past to the man inside. “Mr. Chu, you’re here too.”
Chu Guangyan stepped down from the chair, brushing his fingers off casually. He nodded at her politely, completely unbothered by being found here. No guilt. No panic.
“I’ll leave you to it,” he said to Qu Rong. “If the light goes out again, it’s probably a wiring issue. We’ll have to get that checked next time.”
Qu Rong nodded. “Got it.”
They spoke like they’d known each other for a while—familiar, natural. But Li Zhi noted the oddity here: a single woman, living alone, letting a married man into her home at night to change lightbulbs?
This didn’t look like a simple neighborly relationship.
Li Zhi kept her expression sweet. “Leaving already, Mr. Chu?”
He smiled gently. “Yeah. Mei Qian’s waiting for me at home to eat.”
“I should really drop by and greet Mrs. Chu sometime,” Li Zhi said, still smiling.
Chu Guangyan didn’t flinch, but his tone softened with practiced regret. “My wife’s very introverted. Doesn’t like meeting new people. No need for a visit—but thank you for your kindness. I’ll pass along your greetings.”
“Such a shame,” Li Zhi replied pleasantly.
With another apologetic smile, Chu Guangyan turned and left. Li Zhi turned her attention to Qu Rong, who simply stood at the doorway, making no move to invite her in. She smiled brightly, holding the apples. “We’ll head down first.”
“Thanks for the apples,” Qu Rong said with an easy smile, raising the bag slightly. “Bye.”
They turned and left, the door clicking shut behind them just as they reached the stairs.
“That was weird,” Meng Yuhan whispered. “Aren’t they supposed to avoid doing that kind of thing?”
Even a child understood propriety better than these two.
The whole thing felt off—too familiar, too casual. And with no obvious family relation to use as cover, why let herself be involved with the gossip going around? Even Old Lady Qiu during the day had said that it was Chu Guangyan who was overly attentive—Qu Rong supposedly had nothing to do with it.
Yet from what they’d just seen, Qu Rong didn’t seem to mind at all. She might even… enjoy it.
As Li Zhi silently worked through the implications, a faint noise echoed from ahead.
Thud…
Thud…
The sound of a bouncing ball.
In the suffocating gloom of the unlit stairwell, Meng Yuhan anxiously tapped her foot, triggering one of the dim sound-activated bulbs, its light mingling with the faint crimson glow of the lanterns. She instinctively grabbed Li Zhi’s sleeve and followed closely behind her as they stepped forward.
The hallway ahead gradually came into view.
In the middle of the dim, red-lit corridor stood a small child, wearing overalls and white sneakers, bouncing a ball methodically against the floor.
Behind him, a door stood wide open. Another apartment decorated with red lanterns and couplets. The flickering red glow illuminated his pale, grayish face—a face entirely devoid of life.
The ball bounced once more, then the child caught it in his arms.
And slowly, he looked up.
His gaze wasn’t on Li Zhi. It was fixed directly on Meng Yuhan.
Then… he smiled.
“Jie-jie… come play ball with me?”
Tears instantly welled in Meng Yuhan’s eyes. She was on the verge of crying.
But Li Zhi smiled first. Bright, easy, almost indulgent. “Sure,” she said. “Throw it here.”
The child tilted his head, staring at her as if considering whether she would make a good playmate too. Then he lobbed the ball toward her.
Li Zhi bent slightly, caught the ball effortlessly, and in the same motion spun around—sending the ball flying into the washroom behind her.
“All right,” she clapped her hands with a smile, looking at the boy expectantly. “Your turn. Go fetch it.”