The Walk-in Closet Safehouse CH23 P1
Chapter 23: Ticket Office No. 612 (Part 1)
The very first time she encountered that mother-and-son duo was on the subway. Cui Ye had sat directly across from them, less than three meters away. Her talent's danger prompt had failed to trigger—not because the pair was harmless, but because the prompt was physically incapable of appearing. Or perhaps, it was forbidden from doing so.
The first possibility meant the opponent possessed a high-tier item capable of completely masking another player’s talent, operating within a blanket suppression radius of at least ten meters. If they had the resources to burn an item of that caliber, they wouldn't be slumming it here in a beginner-difficulty server.
Cui Ye absolutely detested high-level sharks who went dynamite fishing in the newbie pond—mostly because she was currently the exact fish inside that pond, and a two-versus-one engagement meant she stood absolutely zero chance of winning.
With the first possibility ruled out, only a single explanation remained for why [Friendly Tip] had suddenly stopped working: it had gone into voluntary hiding.
That mother-and-son pair was actively hunting down talent users, and [Friendly Tip]—keenly aware of how painfully weak its master currently was—had strategically ducked out of sight.
Cui Ye: Well, excuse me for being such a "vegetable".
A talent truly mirrored its master's temperament. Cui Ye’s decision to skip floating directly into Gongze University under her umbrella was driven by the exact same logic; it was infinitely easier to stay low and blend into a dense crowd.
Being weak was the ultimate original sin. One had to turtle up first and focus on maxing out later. The next time they crossed paths, the tables would be completely turned on who was running from whom—and she would make damn sure they compensated her for psychological damages while she was at it.
Cui Ye scanned the registration form handed over by the administrative worker. Completely ignoring the check-boxes for "Safe House" and "Talent User", she decisively marked a check next to "Ordinary Player." She collected her basic identification tag and marched up the stairwell.
Before departing, she stole another glance back at the mother-and-son duo, who remained thoroughly immersed in their own theater, completely locked into the performance. Radiant cascades of holy white light pulsed continuously from the woman’s form as she adamantly refused to accept a single scrap of material wealth, committed to her act of selfless sacrifice to the absolute bitter end.
"Ah, The Holy Light shines upon all."
The crowd basking within this "Holy Radiance"—including the administrative workers and armed military personnel—shattered into unison praise for the woman. This was especially true after they learned she was a veteran player; they swarmed around her like a flock of lost chicks finally locating their mother hen.
The exact individuals who had been loudly contesting why a talent user deserved a private single room just moments ago now completely reversed their tune. The atmosphere inside the corridor became surreal in its perfect harmony. Yet, the moment Cui Ye stepped beyond the boundary of that holy light and looked back, the crowd’s perfectly uniform, synchronized expressions left her with a profoundly eerie sensation.
Her assigned accommodation was the very first dormitory room located at the absolute dead end of the eleventh floor. Out of her six-person group, she had technically been the first to ascend the stairs. However, after she took a long, deliberate detour, the other five occupants had already staked out their territories by the time she finally stepped inside Dorm 1101, leaving behind only a single lower bunk resting right against the window.
The dormitory featured beds lined along one wall and study desks along the other. Because the layout lacked independent bathroom units, the actual living space ended up slightly larger than anticipated.
Inside the room, those who needed to make beds made beds, and those who needed to unpack did so. Not a soul paid any attention to Cui Ye, and she didn't care in the slightest.
Seeing her march straight toward the last remaining bunk without raising a massive fuss or demanding a relocation, the room's occupants internally let out a collective sigh of relief. That specific spot was right against the floorboards and wedged directly beneath the window—it carried the highest concentration of damp moisture, and absolutely no one wanted it. The fact that this newcomer quietly accepted it saved everyone a mountain of hassle.
Cui Ye was naturally well aware of their petty calculations. However, her detour just now had been mandatory to pull off a grueling mission. Furthermore, registering her presence inside this dormitory was merely a formality to clear the administrative protocol; if she vanished before the administrative checks were finished, it would only invite unwanted scrutiny.
Now that she had successfully infiltrated Gongze University, she simply needed to wait for a window to slip away and select a location to deploy her Safe House. Compared to a damp, suffocatingly congested six-person dormitory, her [Walk-in Closet] running a constant [Dehumidifier] cycle was naturally infinitely more comfortable—and exponentially safer.
Due to the persistent environmental moisture, every metallic fixture in the building had rusted into absolute uselessness. The doors and windows had all been swapped out with plastic latch-locks, which served solely to keep the panels shut; they were completely useless against intruders. Forget a fully grown adult—even a toddler throwing their weight around could bust the door open with two solid impacts. This reality left the survivors who had lugged their entire life savings to the shelter deeply dissatisfied.
Someone managed to track down a military officer patrolling the corridor to register a formal complaint, only to receive a flat, singular response: "We fundamentally do not have the surplus manpower to constantly replace iron locks. If you are unhappy, you are entirely free to leave and find a safer place to live."
In short: either hit the road or shut your mouth. If you have a problem, engineer a solution yourself.
It was already the thirteenth day of the apocalypse, yet a vast number of people still failed to process the reality of their situation. Following the collapse of the world, the space for survival had shrunk to almost nothing, and the beautiful virtues of human selflessness were destined to dissolve into history.
The official authorities had organized the military forces to construct these shelters and rescue survivors, a process during which the front-line soldiers suffered the highest casualty rates. Hearing the very sanctuary they had bled to construct face a barrage of petty complaints, a sharp tone was getting off easy—not turning around to physically thrash the complainers showed an exceptionally stable
The mother-and-son pair had been assigned to the exact same floor as her, but their rooms were separated by the entire span of the central corridor. The woman clearly hadn't identified her, meaning she was safe for now. Cui Ye had caught a quick glimpse of the woman's room assignment while registering her own data; on a page packed entirely with ordinary players, that singular checked box for "Talent User" was simply too eye-searing to miss.
Cui Ye firmly believed it was best to maintain a low profile in life, especially when it came to keeping your details to yourself. After all, you never knew when you might cross paths with a "bad actor".
Since she had no idea what the exact market price of a [Ticket] was, she had pulled consecutive all-nighters for two straight days, slaughtering monsters just to stack gold coins. She was terrified that after clawing her way to the absolute endgame, she would end up dying not from a monster attack, but from insufficient funds at the extraction point.
For the last day and a half, outside of eating and sleeping, the moment her eyes snapped open she was killing monsters. Midway through, she had accidentally taken down a Level 2 water monster that delivered itself straight to her doorstep, clearing her quest requirements ahead of schedule; otherwise, the dark circles under her eyes would have been a shade darker.
Fishing a compressed sleeping bag out of her pack, Cui Ye prepared to log a quick nap and wait until total nightfall. Perhaps she truly was thoroughly exhausted, because by the time her consciousness returned, the world outside had dissolved into pitch-black darkness. There were zero structural lights, and the night was so profoundly silent it was terrifying. Suddenly, a sharp wailing erupted, cutting through the void with absolute, piercing clarity.
The ear-splitting shriek rippled through the corridor, triggering a sequence of echoes that caused goosebumps to spike instantly down her flesh. The soldiers standing guard snapped awake, their fingers instinctively tightening around their firearms as they locked eyes with their colleagues. The pair raised their rifles and advanced toward the room where the cries were coming from.
Every single survivor residing on the eleventh floor was pulled from sleep. The more faint-hearted individuals stuffed their heads straight beneath their damp blankets, attempting to unearth a microscopic trace of security. After all, those plastic door latches—which were no sturdier than cheap toys—offered zero structural defense against an assault; they weren't even as reliable as a thick duvet.
Inside Dorm 1101, everyone had been startled awake, yet not a single soul made a sound, let alone dared to climb down and inspect the situation.
It wasn't until the rusted hinges of the door let out a sharp creak that they realized someone had just slipped out. Who was it? The occupants quickly whispered in the dark to check on their companions. After a frantic round of confirmation, everyone was accounted for. If everyone was here, who on earth had just walked out?
At this moment, the five occupants of 1101 were entirely oblivious that the bunk by the window held nothing but an empty sleeping bag. There was no one inside. Then again, even if they had noticed, no one was going to risk their life to venture outside and look for her.
The situation in the corridor unfolded in perfect alignment with Cui Ye's expectations. The military guards stationed in the structure had been completely drawn away by the screaming. Their nerves stretched to the breaking point, the two soldiers remained entirely unaware of the silhouette slipping past behind them.
Cui Ye arrived at the open terrace at the dead end of the corridor, unfurled her umbrella, and drifted away into the night. Shortly after her departure, the wailing inside the corridor ceased abruptly.
Prior to this, the guards who had rushed toward the source tracked the sound straight to the exact room of that healing-type Talent User from earlier that afternoon. Their hearts instantly shot into their throats. Without needing a captain to remind them, they were acutely aware of how critically important this asset was. If an incident occurred the literal day she moved into the facility, not a single one of them could survive the consequences!
Driven by this realization, the two soldiers instantly adapted their strategy. One dialed his radio to mobilize reinforcements from the lower floors, while the other stepped forward to knock and secure the room. However, fueled by pure adrenaline, his knock shattered the fragile plastic latch. It popped straight off the frame, nearly striking Wen Qiu dead on the nose.
Wen He, who was sitting on the mattress, had her brow locked in a tight frown. Shrouded in the dark, she was the polar opposite of her daytime persona. tripped of her systematic lighting effects and that pair of wings, the woman's face actually carried a trace of raw savagery as negative emotions surged violently through her. While she could still maintain a shred of restraint, her older brother, Wen Qiu, already possessed blood-red eyes. He had fished out his puppet strings, completely ready to tear any intruder into shreds.
Just as Wen He was scrambling to figure out how to force her brother to de-escalate, the pair found themselves staring straight into the hollow barrels of several firearms. At this moment, Wen Qiu was barely a meter away from the muzzles. An invisible bead of cold sweat rolled down his forehead—which now showed a distinct wooden grain texture—and his black-and-red eyes looked entirely abnormal no matter the angle.
The guard captain at the front was no fool. Eyeing the stiff, unnatural "child", he recalled the reports stating there was only a single Talent User assigned to this room. What was the underlying purpose behind this intentional concealment?
The siblings, who hadn't even had the chance to screen their targets yet, felt their chests tighten. They absolutely could not blow their cover before their operation even got off the ground. There were only two days remaining before this server hit its conclusion. If they failed to harvest a decent batch of premium "materials," the Master would be thoroughly enraged.
Furthermore, their sibling synergy was built for raw offense rather than defense. Even if they deployed the item bestowed by the Master, being struck by a barrage of bullets at point-blank range meant survival was practically impossible. Pitting a limited-use item against easily replenishable ammunition was a losing proposition.
By all rights, this should have been a case of wolves invading a flock of sheep, yet they had somehow walked right into a mutual trap. Both factions were consumed by their own internal calculations, and for a moment, neither noticed exactly when the shrieks had vanished from the air.
Chapter Notes:
The very first time she encountered that mother-and-son duo was on the subway. Cui Ye had sat directly across from them, less than three meters away. Her talent's danger prompt had failed to trigger—not because the pair was harmless, but because the prompt was physically incapable of appearing. Or perhaps, it was forbidden from doing so.
The first possibility meant the opponent possessed a high-tier item capable of completely masking another player’s talent, operating within a blanket suppression radius of at least ten meters. If they had the resources to burn an item of that caliber, they wouldn't be slumming it here in a beginner-difficulty server.
Cui Ye absolutely detested high-level sharks who went dynamite fishing in the newbie pond—mostly because she was currently the exact fish inside that pond, and a two-versus-one engagement meant she stood absolutely zero chance of winning.
With the first possibility ruled out, only a single explanation remained for why [Friendly Tip] had suddenly stopped working: it had gone into voluntary hiding.
That mother-and-son pair was actively hunting down talent users, and [Friendly Tip]—keenly aware of how painfully weak its master currently was—had strategically ducked out of sight.
Cui Ye: Well, excuse me for being such a "vegetable".
A talent truly mirrored its master's temperament. Cui Ye’s decision to skip floating directly into Gongze University under her umbrella was driven by the exact same logic; it was infinitely easier to stay low and blend into a dense crowd.
Being weak was the ultimate original sin. One had to turtle up first and focus on maxing out later. The next time they crossed paths, the tables would be completely turned on who was running from whom—and she would make damn sure they compensated her for psychological damages while she was at it.
Cui Ye scanned the registration form handed over by the administrative worker. Completely ignoring the check-boxes for "Safe House" and "Talent User", she decisively marked a check next to "Ordinary Player." She collected her basic identification tag and marched up the stairwell.
Before departing, she stole another glance back at the mother-and-son duo, who remained thoroughly immersed in their own theater, completely locked into the performance. Radiant cascades of holy white light pulsed continuously from the woman’s form as she adamantly refused to accept a single scrap of material wealth, committed to her act of selfless sacrifice to the absolute bitter end.
"Ah, The Holy Light shines upon all."
The crowd basking within this "Holy Radiance"—including the administrative workers and armed military personnel—shattered into unison praise for the woman. This was especially true after they learned she was a veteran player; they swarmed around her like a flock of lost chicks finally locating their mother hen.
The exact individuals who had been loudly contesting why a talent user deserved a private single room just moments ago now completely reversed their tune. The atmosphere inside the corridor became surreal in its perfect harmony. Yet, the moment Cui Ye stepped beyond the boundary of that holy light and looked back, the crowd’s perfectly uniform, synchronized expressions left her with a profoundly eerie sensation.
Her assigned accommodation was the very first dormitory room located at the absolute dead end of the eleventh floor. Out of her six-person group, she had technically been the first to ascend the stairs. However, after she took a long, deliberate detour, the other five occupants had already staked out their territories by the time she finally stepped inside Dorm 1101, leaving behind only a single lower bunk resting right against the window.
The dormitory featured beds lined along one wall and study desks along the other. Because the layout lacked independent bathroom units, the actual living space ended up slightly larger than anticipated.
Inside the room, those who needed to make beds made beds, and those who needed to unpack did so. Not a soul paid any attention to Cui Ye, and she didn't care in the slightest.
Seeing her march straight toward the last remaining bunk without raising a massive fuss or demanding a relocation, the room's occupants internally let out a collective sigh of relief. That specific spot was right against the floorboards and wedged directly beneath the window—it carried the highest concentration of damp moisture, and absolutely no one wanted it. The fact that this newcomer quietly accepted it saved everyone a mountain of hassle.
Cui Ye was naturally well aware of their petty calculations. However, her detour just now had been mandatory to pull off a grueling mission. Furthermore, registering her presence inside this dormitory was merely a formality to clear the administrative protocol; if she vanished before the administrative checks were finished, it would only invite unwanted scrutiny.
Now that she had successfully infiltrated Gongze University, she simply needed to wait for a window to slip away and select a location to deploy her Safe House. Compared to a damp, suffocatingly congested six-person dormitory, her [Walk-in Closet] running a constant [Dehumidifier] cycle was naturally infinitely more comfortable—and exponentially safer.
Due to the persistent environmental moisture, every metallic fixture in the building had rusted into absolute uselessness. The doors and windows had all been swapped out with plastic latch-locks, which served solely to keep the panels shut; they were completely useless against intruders. Forget a fully grown adult—even a toddler throwing their weight around could bust the door open with two solid impacts. This reality left the survivors who had lugged their entire life savings to the shelter deeply dissatisfied.
Someone managed to track down a military officer patrolling the corridor to register a formal complaint, only to receive a flat, singular response: "We fundamentally do not have the surplus manpower to constantly replace iron locks. If you are unhappy, you are entirely free to leave and find a safer place to live."
In short: either hit the road or shut your mouth. If you have a problem, engineer a solution yourself.
It was already the thirteenth day of the apocalypse, yet a vast number of people still failed to process the reality of their situation. Following the collapse of the world, the space for survival had shrunk to almost nothing, and the beautiful virtues of human selflessness were destined to dissolve into history.
The official authorities had organized the military forces to construct these shelters and rescue survivors, a process during which the front-line soldiers suffered the highest casualty rates. Hearing the very sanctuary they had bled to construct face a barrage of petty complaints, a sharp tone was getting off easy—not turning around to physically thrash the complainers showed an exceptionally stable
The mother-and-son pair had been assigned to the exact same floor as her, but their rooms were separated by the entire span of the central corridor. The woman clearly hadn't identified her, meaning she was safe for now. Cui Ye had caught a quick glimpse of the woman's room assignment while registering her own data; on a page packed entirely with ordinary players, that singular checked box for "Talent User" was simply too eye-searing to miss.
Cui Ye firmly believed it was best to maintain a low profile in life, especially when it came to keeping your details to yourself. After all, you never knew when you might cross paths with a "bad actor".
Since she had no idea what the exact market price of a [Ticket] was, she had pulled consecutive all-nighters for two straight days, slaughtering monsters just to stack gold coins. She was terrified that after clawing her way to the absolute endgame, she would end up dying not from a monster attack, but from insufficient funds at the extraction point.
For the last day and a half, outside of eating and sleeping, the moment her eyes snapped open she was killing monsters. Midway through, she had accidentally taken down a Level 2 water monster that delivered itself straight to her doorstep, clearing her quest requirements ahead of schedule; otherwise, the dark circles under her eyes would have been a shade darker.
Fishing a compressed sleeping bag out of her pack, Cui Ye prepared to log a quick nap and wait until total nightfall. Perhaps she truly was thoroughly exhausted, because by the time her consciousness returned, the world outside had dissolved into pitch-black darkness. There were zero structural lights, and the night was so profoundly silent it was terrifying. Suddenly, a sharp wailing erupted, cutting through the void with absolute, piercing clarity.
The ear-splitting shriek rippled through the corridor, triggering a sequence of echoes that caused goosebumps to spike instantly down her flesh. The soldiers standing guard snapped awake, their fingers instinctively tightening around their firearms as they locked eyes with their colleagues. The pair raised their rifles and advanced toward the room where the cries were coming from.
Every single survivor residing on the eleventh floor was pulled from sleep. The more faint-hearted individuals stuffed their heads straight beneath their damp blankets, attempting to unearth a microscopic trace of security. After all, those plastic door latches—which were no sturdier than cheap toys—offered zero structural defense against an assault; they weren't even as reliable as a thick duvet.
Inside Dorm 1101, everyone had been startled awake, yet not a single soul made a sound, let alone dared to climb down and inspect the situation.
It wasn't until the rusted hinges of the door let out a sharp creak that they realized someone had just slipped out. Who was it? The occupants quickly whispered in the dark to check on their companions. After a frantic round of confirmation, everyone was accounted for. If everyone was here, who on earth had just walked out?
At this moment, the five occupants of 1101 were entirely oblivious that the bunk by the window held nothing but an empty sleeping bag. There was no one inside. Then again, even if they had noticed, no one was going to risk their life to venture outside and look for her.
The situation in the corridor unfolded in perfect alignment with Cui Ye's expectations. The military guards stationed in the structure had been completely drawn away by the screaming. Their nerves stretched to the breaking point, the two soldiers remained entirely unaware of the silhouette slipping past behind them.
Cui Ye arrived at the open terrace at the dead end of the corridor, unfurled her umbrella, and drifted away into the night. Shortly after her departure, the wailing inside the corridor ceased abruptly.
Prior to this, the guards who had rushed toward the source tracked the sound straight to the exact room of that healing-type Talent User from earlier that afternoon. Their hearts instantly shot into their throats. Without needing a captain to remind them, they were acutely aware of how critically important this asset was. If an incident occurred the literal day she moved into the facility, not a single one of them could survive the consequences!
Driven by this realization, the two soldiers instantly adapted their strategy. One dialed his radio to mobilize reinforcements from the lower floors, while the other stepped forward to knock and secure the room. However, fueled by pure adrenaline, his knock shattered the fragile plastic latch. It popped straight off the frame, nearly striking Wen Qiu dead on the nose.
Wen He, who was sitting on the mattress, had her brow locked in a tight frown. Shrouded in the dark, she was the polar opposite of her daytime persona. tripped of her systematic lighting effects and that pair of wings, the woman's face actually carried a trace of raw savagery as negative emotions surged violently through her. While she could still maintain a shred of restraint, her older brother, Wen Qiu, already possessed blood-red eyes. He had fished out his puppet strings, completely ready to tear any intruder into shreds.
Just as Wen He was scrambling to figure out how to force her brother to de-escalate, the pair found themselves staring straight into the hollow barrels of several firearms. At this moment, Wen Qiu was barely a meter away from the muzzles. An invisible bead of cold sweat rolled down his forehead—which now showed a distinct wooden grain texture—and his black-and-red eyes looked entirely abnormal no matter the angle.
The guard captain at the front was no fool. Eyeing the stiff, unnatural "child", he recalled the reports stating there was only a single Talent User assigned to this room. What was the underlying purpose behind this intentional concealment?
The siblings, who hadn't even had the chance to screen their targets yet, felt their chests tighten. They absolutely could not blow their cover before their operation even got off the ground. There were only two days remaining before this server hit its conclusion. If they failed to harvest a decent batch of premium "materials," the Master would be thoroughly enraged.
Furthermore, their sibling synergy was built for raw offense rather than defense. Even if they deployed the item bestowed by the Master, being struck by a barrage of bullets at point-blank range meant survival was practically impossible. Pitting a limited-use item against easily replenishable ammunition was a losing proposition.
By all rights, this should have been a case of wolves invading a flock of sheep, yet they had somehow walked right into a mutual trap. Both factions were consumed by their own internal calculations, and for a moment, neither noticed exactly when the shrieks had vanished from the air.
Chapter Notes:
- "Dynamite fishing" / "Fish pond." 炸鱼 / 鱼塘: Heavily used in gaming culture. It refers to highly skilled, high-level veteran players who deliberately create alternative accounts or enter low-level maps to absolutely destroy and mock inexperienced, low-level players (the "fish").
- "Vegetable." 菜 : A universal Chinese internet slang term meaning weak, unskilled, or a complete "noob" in a gaming or competitive context.
- "First turtle up, then grow/develop." 茍 / 先茍住再发?育: Originally a strategic gaming term from MOBA/Battle Royale genres (like League of Legends or PUBG). It means to play extremely defensively, hide from fights, and camp securely to gather resources ("farm") until you are powerful enough to fight back in the late-game.
- "The Holy Light shines upon all." 圣光普照 : Originally religious/fantasy jargon, it is used sarcastically on the Chinese internet to mock people who act like a "Holy Mother" (圣母 - overly self-righteous, fake, or blindly altruistic to a fault). The "light" refers to the literal special effects their fake virtue seems to radiate.
- "A half-filled bottle sloshing around." 半瓶子晃荡 : A traditional colloquial idiom used to describe someone who possesses only a superficial, shallow amount of knowledge or skill, but constantly brags and makes a lot of noise—just like a half-empty bottle makes more noise when shaken than a completely full one.
- "To kill people and plunder their goods." 杀人掠货 : A classic Wuxia/historical idiom used to describe banditry, lawlessness, and cold-blooded mugging. (Note: The author used the homophone typo 掠货 instead of the traditional 掠货/越货, which gives it a modern, casual internet-novel vibe).
(TLCubbie: Sorry for the missed update—I had three weddings to attend last week! Anyway, I split this chapter into two parts because the word count was double what it usually is.)
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