The scene that followed was surprisingly natural and harmonious. The old shaman was like a lecherous old man, his gaze sweeping back and forth over the girls standing by the roller shutter doors. He was clearly picking his favorite in a manner akin to selecting imperial concubines.
Finally, after a round of haggling, he was pulled into one of the shops by a girl. Watching the old shaman disappear behind the roller shutter, Chen Luren fell into thought again. He had been using his mental power to sense danger throughout, but the result kept giving him a feeling of "no danger, just go for it, must go in." The system, which operated on the bizarre world channel, felt the same way. This made Chen Luren increasingly tempted.
"Is there really no danger?" Chen Luren murmured, staring at the footbath shop the old shaman had entered.
Finally, steeling his resolve, he marched straight over.
"Hey, handsome! You've been picking for half a month—finally can't resist anymore, huh?" A girl 招揽生意 (soliciting customers) at the door lit up when she saw Chen Luren approach. Compared to the old man who'd just gone in—with yellow teeth and wrinkles deep enough to trap mosquitoes—Chen Luren, a 1.85-meter-tall, sunny, and incredibly handsome "hunk," was 简直不要太香 (extremely appealing). In the girl's mind, such an ideal catch was worth even paying to serve.
"I came with the guy who just went in," Chen Luren blurted out casually. "He's my... father-in-law."
The moment the words left his mouth, the girl's expression turned priceless. The plot was way off—father-in-law and son-in-law sneaking off to a brothel behind their families' backs? How absurd! Or was there a hidden agenda, maybe ordered by the mother-in-law? Chen Luren's move had truly stunned her. City folks... sure know how to play.
"Little bro, you really know how to have fun," the footbath girl said, maintaining professional etiquette despite her surprise. She pulled Chen Luren into the shop as he requested.
But the moment Chen Luren's figure disappeared through the door, he didn't notice that the shop's sign began to twist. In an instant, the pink letters "Hongmanlang Bath Center" emerged. If Chen Luren had seen this name, he would have bolted on the spot, given his cautious nature. After all, Hongmanlang Bath Center was the footbath and massage parlor that had caught fire five years ago.
Inside, the lighting was dim. Walking down the corridor, he occasionally heard "strange" sounds, creating an extremely 暧昧 (amorous) atmosphere. The girl led Chen Luren straight to the third floor as he requested, finally pushing open the door to Room 444.
"Is that Xiao Hong?" the old shaman's voice came from inside the 包厢 (private room). Perhaps due to the dim lighting, he couldn't see who had entered clearly.
"Grandpa, Xiao Hong will be here later," the footbath girl replied with a smile. "Your son-in-law is here."
"Son-in-law? What the hell?" The old shaman was taken aback. Then, focusing his eyes, he finally 看清 (saw clearly) the person at the door. "Holy shit... it's you, kid! What are you doing here? Get out now—this isn't a place for you!"
Evidently, the old shaman recognized Chen Luren. His tone carried a hint of reproach, or so the guiding footbath girl thought—after all, they were supposed to be father-in-law and son-in-law.
In her 脑补,the old man should still be on his daughter's side.
"Sir, since your son-in-law is here, why not have fun together?" the footbath girl smiled. "Men will be men—who doesn't stray? Look at you, even at your age. As long as you take care of the family, it's fine. How about this: let me serve your son-in-law today. I get monthly checkups, so I'm clean—promise I won't cause trouble for your family."
"Exactly," Chen Luren chimed in, then promptly lay down on another massage bed.
"Kid, do you know what you're doing?" The old shaman leaned in urgently when he saw Chen Luren was determined to stay.
"Sure do," Chen whispered. "If you can be here, why can't I?"
"Are you trying to get yourself killed? Wait... something was off with you at the 跳楼现场 (suicide scene). I thought it was a coincidence before, but now it seems you know a lot." The old shaman dropped his act and pressed.
"Yeah, about the bizarre stuff. I've known this footbath place was shady since half a month ago, just never dared come in. I only braved it today because I saw you enter." Chen Luren whispered in his ear.
The old shaman's expression turned complicated. He knew half a month ago... I only come here once a month. He'd thought this filthy place drew little attention, but now a young man had noticed. It felt like someone had sneaked into his territory.
"Eyeing this place? Listen, you're young with a long road ahead. Filthy places like this will hinder your growth—give it up," the old shaman warned softly, their voices too low for the masseuse to hear.
But Chen Luren grew more curious. The old man clearly knew far more, maybe even... a player in this bizarre world game, just like him.
As Chen Luren prepared to ask more, the old shaman reclined on his bed and shot him a warning glance. In an instant, Chen Luren realized why: the surroundings warped, transforming into a different private room styled like it was from years ago. Pink lighting filled the space with an amorous haze.
Chen Luren turned to the old shaman's spot—only to find him gone. There wasn't even a massage bed; just a blank wall.
What the hell? Chen tensed. Before he could decide to leave, the system's chatter rang out:
[Servicing a handsome man should be a joy, at least that's what masseuse Zhou Chengcheng thought. But before her shift, her boyfriend beat her. Zhou can't fathom why—every time she gets a handsome client, her boyfriend threatens her violently. Over time, resentment has festered. Today, she was beaten again because of you. With bruises on her face, she enters your room.]
Unlike before, now inside the bizarre world instance, Chen Luren hung on every word. But after hearing this, he looked confused. A bizarre world instance—shouldn't it be like a game, fighting ghosts? Why does this feel like a storyline?
Just then, a masseuse entered with supplies, head down as if hiding bruises under her hair: "Hello, Technician 83 at your service."