She didn't finish the sentence. Because really, no one wanted to hear the "unless" part. Especially if it ended with something like, "Unless they ended up in the same situation too."
He Yuying groaned. "Let's just hope he didn't try to flirt his way out and accidentally get himself sold."
Shen Zhenyu's mouth twitched. "We don't have time for this. Let's move."
Song Meiyu raised her hand. "Can we not split up like those dumb people in scary stories?"
He yuying gave her a flat, approving look. "That's the smartest thing anyone's said all day."
And so, together in one slow, very unheroic line, they began their underground adventure once more.
Shen Zhenyu took the lead, his expression calm but his eyes sharp and alert. Linyue walked just behind him, her steps quiet and measured. Song Meiyu and He Yuying followed, whispering every few minutes like they were narrating their own doom.
Song Meiyu leaned close to whisper, "What if the dolls really are alive?"
He Yuying replied in the same low tone, "Then they can lead us to the exit. Or eat us. Fifty-fifty chance."
The tunnel twisted and turned like it was designed by someone who hated straight lines, and anyone with a sense of direction. Doors appeared here and there. All locked. All suspicious. No one even tried opening them yet. Not without a plan. For all they knew, one could hide a monster. Another might hide something worse, like a room full of creepy dolls. Or worst of all, Prince Lu throwing a full-scale tantrum over dust on his robe. Better not to find out by accident.
Song Meiyu whispered again, "What if this is like one of those scary stories? One door has treasure and the rest… instant death."
He Yuying whispered back, "Then let's make the prince open them first."
Linyue gave a small nod. "Great idea."
Shen Zhenyu said nothing, but the very slight way his shoulders tensed suggested he was silently agreeing.
The air grew thick with tension. Their footsteps echoed down the damp stone corridor, each sound louder than it should have been. Occasionally, Song Meiyu's nervous whispers and He Yuying's dry grumbling broke the silence only to be shut down instantly by one sharp glare from Shen Zhenyu.
Then the air shifted.
Heavier. Stale. Metallic. Familiar.
The group stopped. All of them sniffed. And unfortunately, everyone knew that smell.
"…Blood," Linyue murmured softly.
"Maybe it's… old blood?" Song Meiyu whispered hopefully. "Like, centuries old? Completely harmless?"
He Yuying gave her a flat stare. "Sure. And maybe the next door has free pastries and a cheerful welcome party."
Song Meiyu swallowed hard, her voice tiny. "Maybe it's… not human blood?"
Shen Zhenyu finally spoke, his voice was low and steady. "There's only one way to find out."
Linyue said cheerfully. "Alright. Let's get traumatized together, shall we?"
He Yuying groaned. "Great. My favorite kind of bonding."
Song Meiyu's eyes widened. "Do we get matching trauma badges for this?"
No one bothered to answer. They crept forward, as quietly as four people with varying levels of panic could manage.
One of the many doors ahead stood slightly ajar. Not locked.
"Why is it always the unlocked ones?" He Yuying muttered.
Shen Zhenyu placed a hand on the door and pushed it open gently. It creaked in just the right way to sound like a horror story. And then the smell hit them hard.
Song Meiyu gagged so violently she nearly stumbled back. She slapped both hands over her nose. "Oh no. Nope. Cancel this adventure. I want a refund."
He Yuying winced and whispered, "Whatever's in there better not jump out. Or sing. Or do that creepy slow head-turn thing."
Linyue, as always, stepped inside like it was just another mildly annoying room. Her gaze swept slowly over the scene.
Dead bodies. Dozens of them, laid out in neat, unsettling rows. As if someone had thought, "Massacre? Sure. But let's keep it organized."
They weren't just dead. Some had been sliced open like cuts of meat at a butcher's stall, organs gone. Others had limbs removed entirely, eyes gone, or heads peeled in layers like… onions. In one corner lay a poor soul who was missing everything except a strangely intact left ear.
"This isn't a morgue," Linyue said, her voice calm but edged with disgust. "It's a menu."
He Yuying made a sound halfway between a sob and a groan. "I hate how you're probably right."
Song Meiyu clung to Shen Zhenyu's sleeve, pinching her nose. She whispered in horror, "Who does this?!"
He Yuying didn't miss a beat. "A very organized psychopath with a strong culinary theme."
Song Meiyu's eyes went wide. "Oh no. What if they're using the organs for soup?!"
He Yuying gave her a flat look. "Of course your brain went straight to soup."
"Good thing I prefer pastries," Linyue said calmly.
He Yuying nodded thoughtfully. "Excellent choice. Stick to pastries. Safe and reliable."
Song Meiyu, however, was spiraling fast. She gasped, clutching her own hair. "Wait! What if they put it in meat dumplings? Or… or meat pancakes? Or meat pies? Or… or meat buns?!"
"Stop," He Yuying said, "you're going to make me paranoid—"
"But you should be paranoid!" Song Meiyu snapped, turning on him. "What if they're putting it in noodles?! In stew?! In those free snacks you love so much—"
"Enough," Shen Zhenyu said at last, his voice calm. But the faint twitch at the corner of his mouth suggested he was having a hard time deciding whether to be horrified or impressed at their ability to joke in a room full of corpses.
Linyue kept her eyes on the rows of bodies, pretending the food conversation behind her did not exist. But then Song Meiyu's whisper drifted forward.
"Do you think dumplings count as pastries?"
There was a pause.
"Only if they're baked," He Yuying replied.
Linyue exhaled slowly. One day this group would get her killed, and it would not be by the enemy. It would be by talking too much in front of a murderer. Her gaze drifted back to the neat rows of corpses. "Do you think that's where they got the beautiful hair for those dolls? I mean, the craftsmanship did seem suspiciously… realistic."
Shen Zhenyu didn't even blink. "Probably not just the hair."
Song Meiyu made a strangled squeak and immediately grabbed He Yuying's arm for support. "Do NOT say skin. I swear if you say skin—"
"Skin," He Yuying said flatly.
Song Meiyu smacked his arm. "You're evil!"
"I'm realistic," he corrected. "And probably right."
Linyue sighed. "Well, at least we know where not to shop for gifts."
Shen Zhenyu rubbed his temple. "Can we please move on before you all start rating the corpses on craftsmanship?"
But Linyue already crouched beside one of the bodies, studying it carefully. "It seems someone's been… studying these people," she murmured. Her eyes traced the precision of the cuts, the careful removals. "But what kind of experiment needs this many heads?"
"Studying?!" Song Meiyu squeaked, clutching her own head as if to protect it. "Who is studying them? A lunatic with a cookbook?!"
Linyue paused, then answered in the same calm, flat tone, "Maybe."
He Yuying lifted his head with great effort. "Okay. I vote we go back to the part where we were tied to chairs. That was nicer."
Shen Zhenyu's expression darkened as his eyes swept the room again. There was nothing else here. No notes. No tools. Just bodies. Dozens of them. Rows of silent, mutilated witnesses to something unspeakable. It didn't feel like a laboratory, or even a butcher's workshop. It felt like a very well-organized dump site.
They didn't stay long. The next room? More bodies. The one after that? Even more. It was like a twisted tour of horrors. By the third door, Shen Zhenyu had stopped opening them all the way. He'd just peek, grunt, and move on.
He Yuying let out a long-suffering groan, dragging his feet dramatically. "We're gonna die down here if we don't leave. I can feel it in my soul. And my ankles."
Song Meiyu looked about two shades paler than usual. "Can someone please find Prince Lu before we find a version of him with no head? Or worse… his head on the wrong body?"
"We have to find him fast," Linyue agreed, dusting her hands on her skirt. "Before he ends up as a display in front of the doll store window."
Everyone nodded grimly. No one wanted a Prince Lu doll staring at them forever.
Then they heard it.
Footsteps. Sharp taps against stone.
Not theirs. Not slow. Not friendly. Getting closer.
They all froze.