The Fallen's Guide - chapter 26

Tang Nian saw that the image on the nurse’s phone seemed to freeze, the streamer Er Sen maintaining his downward gaze, motionless.

A few people grumbled indignantly, “Knew it was fake. The screen always blacks out at the critical moment. I knew they wouldn’t let anyone in there.”

“Yeah, if he really went in and streamed, he’d definitely get arrested.”

“The Security Department already said that no citizens are allowed near until the results are out, but these adventure streamers just have to go in and broadcast.”

The comment barrage kept flooding in.

“Point the camera down! Why are you just standing there?”

“What’s Er Sen looking at?”

“Why isn’t he moving?”

Suddenly, a message popped up in the livestream: signal lost, unable to receive real-time footage.

“More smoke and mirrors.”

“Fake, I’m out!”

The comments were full of criticism.

The livestream was cut off by the official customer service, and the nurses turned to watch another stream.

Everyone quickly forgot about this sensational adventure broadcast.

No one cared about the missing streamer, Er Sen.

The city’s lights still shone in thousands of homes, the night as brilliant as ever. The undying lights seemed like milestones of human civilization etched into the earth. People knew about the anomaly in the City Center, treating it as just another hot news topic-discussing it for a while before their own messy lives took over their thoughts.

Fish, before being swallowed by a humpback whale, still chase after tiny plankton in the water, feeling satisfied with a good meal.

People don’t know what fire is until it burns their skin.

At that moment, the streamer lifted his head.

The sound of sirens had vanished.

It was very quiet around him.

In his eyes, the world was still daytime.

His phone screen was black, as if out of battery, or maybe broken. He pressed the power button hard, and after a while, the screen lit up, but there was no signal at all.

“So many people finally tuned in, and now the screen just goes black.” The streamer muttered, complaining about his suddenly malfunctioning equipment. “No idea how many gifts I just got.”

He walked out and found the surroundings eerily quiet.

The rumble of the nearby subway, the bustling traffic and honking in the City Center, the noisy chatter of passersby, the broadcast warning citizens to stay away, even the annoying summer cicadas and birds-all had disappeared.

The streamer started to panic.

He walked out of the Longsheng District and saw the empty police cordon; the patrol officers who had been there were gone.

“Is anyone there?” He couldn’t help but shout, feeling more and more unsettled as he walked.

His phone still had no signal. Holding it up, he walked out of the commercial area and saw an empty police car, faint music playing from inside. He rushed over excitedly.

But when he got there, he found no one in the car.

A lit cigarette sat on the steering wheel, still gently smoking.

Didn’t this prove someone had just been here? Where were the police?

The streamer was completely confused. Why had everyone disappeared?

He searched as he walked, the world still feeling familiar, the city still the one he lived in.

Following the way he came, he found his own car. In a panic, he pulled out his keys, but couldn’t unlock the door. He went back outside, fear growing in the unnerving silence.

“Is anyone there?” He kept running, wishing someone would come arrest him. He shouldn’t have avoided the police car earlier-yes, he should have let the police catch him.

He’d never break public order again. He knew he was wrong.

“Where is everyone!”
“Where has everyone gone!”

“Is anyone there?”

His voice echoed through the empty yet bustling city, but only the cold wind replied.

As he walked, he began to notice something strange.

He stopped and glanced at his reflection in the car window beside him.

In the corner formed by the car window and the rearview mirror, the glass reflected a scene full of police officers and onlookers, moving back and forth, stretching out police tape to keep people from entering the cordoned area.

The blogger’s face lit up with joy. He spun around, but behind him, there was still no one.

A chill shot from his feet all the way to his scalp.

In disbelief, he looked back at that small patch of reflection.

In the window, the bustling city was still reflected. It was evening, the city lights had just come on, street lamps glowing with warm light, and office buildings glittered with a dazzling brilliance, together painting the city with vibrant color.

But in the world where he now stood, there was still not a single person.

The blogger stared blankly up at the sky, sensing a question he had previously overlooked.

The sun was stuck at the point just before it set, radiating a warm orange glow characteristic of dusk. He remembered entering the cordoned area at about five in the afternoon.

But now, he had been wandering the empty city for hours, and the sun had never moved from its place.

Was the car window reflecting the real world? If so, where was he now?

At some point, he looked down at his phone, which showed no signal, as if realizing something.

Not everyone had disappeared.

He was the one who had disappeared.

–

The game’s cooldown was not yet over. Tang Nian opened the payment slip the nurse had brought and glanced at her account balance.

The nurse reminded her softly, “Your condition isn’t optimistic. There may be a second surgery soon. Conservative treatment is expensive…”

She didn’t have much money left.

Tang Qiuyun had no idea how much a heart surgery and those extremely expensive medical consumables would cost.

She even smiled as she handed the bank card to Tang Nian, saying, “Don’t scrimp on this money-remember to get extra tutoring and hire private teachers.”

In reality, there wasn’t enough in the card to cover even one surgery.

If she wanted to survive, Tang Nian could only apply for the hospital’s Medical Mutual Aid Special Program, participating in an unmarketed medical project as a clinical trial case.

But that spot was extremely rare.

Tang Nian opened Tang Qiuyun’s profile page and saw she had posted a new photo taken inside a church.

Her hands were crossed over her chest. The caption read: Your devoted Believer.

Her shawl bore a logo that would make the brand’s price soar many times over, and the jewels on her ears were clear and expensive.

Just that single outfit would be enough to cover all the fees that were leaving Tang Nian strapped for cash, from hiring a nurse to buying medicine and paying for a special intensive care room.

When did Tang Qiuyun become religious?

She always had a motive for what she posted. The only reason Tang Nian could think of was that her mother was trying to please Stepfather Lin.

But she didn’t recall Stepfather Lin ever having religious beliefs. He was a thorough businessman, caring only for profit.

Lowering her gaze, Tang Nian noticed in the corner of the photo a tall, handsome young man with striking features, his brows furrowed and an impatient look on his face.

He was a stranger: attractive, lips red and teeth white, but with a poor temperament.

Who was he?

A sudden sharp pain pierced Tang Nian’s heart. She pressed her chest, enduring the pain, her face pale.

It was her body warning her: her life was now on a countdown.