The moment the words left his mouth, a scream cut through the air. Ma Xiong and Lu Zong both frowned, speaking in unison, “Fatty!” They exchanged a look, perhaps surprised by their sudden synchronicity. A tension immediately gripped their hearts. How could they encounter Fatty here? Wasn't Fatty supposed to be outside this virtual space? He had just been communicating with Lu Zong.

A rapid succession of doubts caused them to glance at each other again before focusing their gaze on the largest tent ahead—the source of Fatty's cry. They hurried forward, eager to see what had transpired. Could Fatty be in danger?

But as they reached the edge of the tent, Fatty’s calls abruptly ceased. They quickly bent down, squatting at one corner of the tent, desperately searching for a gap to see what was happening inside.

Finally, tucked away in a hidden recess, they discovered a pinhole-sized opening. Ma Xiong immediately pressed his eye against it, desperate to discern the scene within.

To their utter astonishment, the interior was completely empty. Only a blanket of yellow sand covered the floor, interspersed with shredded remnants of the decayed tent fabric. Nothing else was visible, and the desperate cry had vanished entirely. He shook his head in disbelief, then gestured for Lu Zong to look. The moment Lu Zong peered in, he sucked in a sharp breath, looking as if he were about to shout, but in that split second, he clamped a hand over his own mouth, stifling the sound.

Noticing Lu Zong’s abnormal reaction, Ma Xiong realized his companion must have seen something. He roughly shoved Lu Zong aside and peered inside once more. This time, his own jaw dropped, for he saw nothing either—still utterly vacant, just as before. A flicker of anger crossed his face as he straightened up, turning to Lu Zong. “Lu Zong, what’s with the theatrics? There’s nothing in there. Why the scream?”

Lu Zong’s mouth fell open in shock. He looked at Ma Xiong, asking with genuine curiosity, “What? You say there’s nothing inside? That can’t be right. Fatty was clearly in there, beaten to a pulp, bruised and bloody. You didn’t see that?”

Ma Xiong knew Lu Zong wasn't the type to lie to him, and a cold numbness began to creep up his nerves. To confirm, he leaned back to the tiny aperture and looked again. This time, as before, he perceived nothing.

He stared at Lu Zong’s sincere expression and scoffed, “I never pegged you as someone with such a playful streak beneath that stern exterior, hahaha. You’re telling blatant lies with your eyes wide open. If you’re going to crack jokes, pick a better time, okay? Don't start trouble for no reason.”

Lu Zong’s expression grew even sterner. He couldn't even be bothered to argue with Ma Xiong, for the facts—as he perceived them—were undeniable. What evidence could be more conclusive than the truth? However, to prove he wasn't simply mistaken or seeing things, he pressed his eye back to the opening, determined to see if he was truly hallucinating or if Ma Xiong was merely trying to trick him.

This time, it was a carbon copy of his previous glimpse: Fatty was groaning inside. Perhaps due to the distance, or perhaps because he wasn't making any audible noise, Lu Zong couldn't hear a thing. He stood up again, voice ringing with conviction. “Ma Xiong, I know you enjoy a good prank, but you need to choose your moments, just like you told me. Come on, let’s hurry in and save Fatty. He’s already battered inside, and if we don't go in now, he might not last much longer.”

Ma Xiong’s astonishment matched Lu Zong’s. He slapped Lu Zong on the shoulder. “Alright, enough jokes. Let’s just go in and see. The truth will reveal itself then. Lu Zong, that was quite the joke you pulled.”

Lu Zong shook his head. “No, Ma Xiong, you’re the one making the joke, and it’s a big one. Let’s go inside. I will stand by everything I said, just as surely as I am responsible for my son, even if he is still inside your wife’s womb, I take responsibility.”

Ma Xiong chuckled conspiratorially. “It seems both our eyes are playing tricks on us. Did you really see Fatty there, covered in wounds?” Lu Zong nodded with grave seriousness, adding a concluding grunt.

Ma Xiong’s face instantly darkened. Even if Fatty possessed the power of invisibility, it was too coincidental that he would be hidden precisely when Ma Xiong looked, yet reappear the instant Lu Zong looked. How could he track their viewing sequence so perfectly? Furthermore, why would he hide from Ma Xiong? Could they both be experiencing an illusion? No, if it were an illusion, why did they both hear that scream erupt from the tent simultaneously? Something had definitely happened inside.

This bizarre discrepancy solidified Ma Xiong’s resolve to enter. There had to be a secret here, otherwise, why the mystery? Besides, Fatty had specifically warned him to enter this place. Fatty must have a plan involving Lu Zong seeing him, though whether it was for good or ill, they were cornered; they had no choice but to try anything.

They slowly approached the entrance of the tent, gazing at the structure that seemed weathered by eons. The exterior was marred by marks of decay and time, faded and broken, a sight that tugged at the heart. Lu Zong said, “Ma Xiong, knock.”

Ma Xiong knocked twice on the fabric curtain in a perfunctory manner. “Is anyone home?”

An extremely delicate, yet startlingly clear and gentle voice replied, “Coming, coming! Who is it?”

Lu Zong blinked, slightly thrown. He glanced at Ma Xiong, who seemed unfazed, showing no sign of recognizing anything. Yet, Lu Zong found the voice profoundly familiar, instantly feeling as if he had experienced that sound long ago.

The memory of the voice faded swiftly from his mind. To reconfirm his immediate recognition, he asked again, “Hello? Is anyone in there? Could we trouble you for a brief stay? We just need a place to rest for the night.”

He instantly regretted speaking, as silence followed—no answer. After all, it was a woman; how appropriate was it for two men to ask for lodging? Did that sound inherently suggestive? Suddenly, he felt an inexplicable gaze fixed upon him, making him flush. He quickly looked up and saw Ma Xiong staring at him in surprise, muttering, “Lu Zong, Lu Zong. I never thought you looked so honest while harboring such roguish thoughts.”

Lu Zong lowered his head in embarrassment, but then, as if a realization struck him, he quickly asked Ma Xiong, “Ma Xiong, didn’t you say you saw nothing just now? Why is there a girl’s voice inside?”

Hearing this, Ma Xiong was genuinely perplexed. Right, he had seen the interior completely empty just moments ago, not a single trace of human presence. Why the sound of a girl? Stranger still, why had Lu Zong seen a badly beaten Fatty? If Lu Zong saw Fatty, he should also have seen this woman. Harboring his own confusion, he questioned Lu Zong, “Lu Zong, what exactly did you see? Did you see a woman in there? It seems Fatty has quite the charm.”

To his surprise, Lu Zong answered with palpable nervousness, “No, I saw everything clearly inside just now. Nothing but Fatty lying under the lifeless canvas, nothing more. Definitely no living woman.”

“How utterly strange,” Ma Xiong muttered to himself. His fierce curiosity compelled him to tap the canvas again. The fabric rustled softly. Ma Xiong called out, “Miss, would you mind if we rested here briefly? We’ll only stay a moment before leaving. Please accommodate us.”

That soul-stirring voice returned from within, “Who are you people? Just come in, are you simpletons? It’s not a locked iron door, just step inside and stop wasting time with pleasantries.”

Ma Xiong stared blankly at Lu Zong. He was astonished by the girl’s blunt manner; she wasn't the least bit curious about their identities. In this desolate wilderness, meeting anyone should spark intense curiosity, so why was this girl so composed?

With this doubt in mind, he looked toward Lu Zong, only to find him staring back with an equally puzzled expression. Sensing that Lu Zong had also noted the oddity, he asked, “What do you make of this?”

Lu Zong frowned. “You recognized that voice? Aren’t you the least bit surprised by her presence here?”

Ma Xiong finally realized that the issue he perceived was vastly different from Lu Zong’s. He stopped speaking and instead asked, “Lu Zong, what exactly did you find problematic? Tell me.”

Lu Zong inquired curiously, “Didn’t you recognize it? Whose voice does that girl sound like?”

Ma Xiong rubbed the back of his head, feeling a sudden wave of dizziness. He had to admit the voice did sound somewhat familiar, but he absolutely could not recall where or when he had heard it. He mentally sifted through possibilities, eliminating them one by one until he came up empty. He mumbled in response, “No clue. Can you give me a hint?”

Lu Zong clenched his fist and stated, “It’s Han Chong’s voice! Didn’t you recognize it?”

Only then did Ma Xiong utter an “Oh.” The voice was indeed Han Chong’s. But why would Han Chong be here? He looked at Lu Zong, who stared back with equal bewilderment, both hoping to find the answer reflected in the other’s eyes—but finding nothing beyond the tired, sleep-crusted remnants of days without rest.

With no other option, Lu Zong steeled himself, lifted the fabric curtain, and stepped inside.

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