NOVEL ONLINE FREE Chapter 26 - Turned Into a Dog.
Wei Yangze froze in place for a few seconds before swiftly dashing up the stairs.
Lin Lin knew exactly what he was thinking. After all, he felt the same—a foreboding sense of dread had climbed to the top of his head, pounding like a migraine.
It was as if an invisible hand had reached into his brain, stirring it into chaos.
The office door was shut. From the darkened windows, it was evident the lights inside had been turned off.
Wei Yangze pushed the door open with force.
Lin Lin, following closely behind, switched on the lights with a sharp click. The scene inside immediately came into view.
Professor Chen was seated neatly behind his desk. A thick stack of exam papers lay on the wooden surface. He was grading them, his pen scraping harshly across the paper, emitting a grating scratch.
“Who are you?”
Professor Chen lifted his head, glaring at the two intruders with evident displeasure.
“And why are you dressed like this? Outsiders, I assume? If you don’t explain yourselves, I’ll call security!”
Wei Yangze didn’t move, his gaze fixed on the professor’s face.
A few seconds later, he said, “It’s nothing. We were just looking for a student. We’ll leave now.”
Without hesitation, he turned around, grabbed Lin Lin, and pulled him out of the office.
The door shut firmly behind them.
“That’s it—”
“Pupils normal, fully conscious. No signs of any abnormal factors on him, and the surrounding environment shows no distortions,” Wei Yangze explained. “So, why stay?”
Lin Lin was stunned.
Wei Yangze, twenty-nine years old.
A Level-One Enforcer for five years, with nearly eight years of field experience.
With his level of expertise, it was almost impossible for him to make a mistake in judgment.
“But…”
It was all too strange.
Who grades papers in the dark? A normal person wouldn’t do something like that.
That wasn’t a human. It was a hollow shell of flesh, an anomaly disguised as a body.
“I know,” Wei Yangze cut him off, heading back toward the staircase. “But if even I can’t determine what kind of infection this is, staying there won’t achieve anything. If it truly is infected, it’s beyond what I can handle.”
Lin Lin’s mind flashed back to Yan Mi’s profile as he passed them earlier.
His expressionless eyes, the faint smile on his lips.
[What is this?]
[A warning, perhaps?]
The riddles surrounding him were enough to make Lin Lin’s head feel like it might explode.
“We could contact a Special-Class Enforcer.”
Wei Yangze scoffed, “That scum?”
“That’s not something a staff member should say.”
“My apologies for offending your sense of duty, but this is my jurisdiction, and I have my own judgment. If this third-stage [Source of Infection] hasn’t acted for five years, its danger level doesn’t outweigh other priorities.”
A seasoned Level-One Enforcer could determine the type of [Source of Infection] from the system-provided archives.
The deceased’s name was Yu Yuhe.
His last call before committing suicide had been to his parents.
No one knew what they had said to him, but it was enough to push a timid and sensitive person to the brink.
He ended his life in the elevator.
It wasn’t until a week later, after his corpse had decomposed in the summer heat, that anyone thought to look for him.
Without a doubt, the [Source of Infection] was born from hatred—hatred directed inward, a culmination of self-loathing, inferiority, and suffering that transformed him into a monster.
He cursed himself, becoming a creature of bitterness.
This pitiful curse hadn’t affected anyone else.
For five years, this was the first time Yu Yuhe had manifested as an [Source of Infection].
Before this, the system hadn’t even detected his potential to become one.
Lin Lin was silent.
Even so—
[Relying on one’s own assessment of danger rather than the [Source of Infection]’s inherent threat level. That’s exactly why he’ll never make it to Special-Class.]
Promotion to Special-Class required a recommendation from at least five Level-One Enforcers.
Wei Yangze had once been on the shortlist for Special-Class, but he’d since been removed entirely.
Did it happen before his companion—the [Source of Infection] disguised as a human—was exposed? Or after, when he became a notorious Level-One?
“Besides,” Wei Yangze added with a smirk, “you’ve seen Professor Chen’s file, haven’t you? It reminds me of when I was in school. Once, my English teacher slapped me in front of the entire class because I couldn’t write a single word correctly.”
“…”
“You notify the others at the containment facility.”
Lin Lin: “Got it.”
There wasn’t much to say about the task itself.
However, after a brief silence, Wei Yangze suddenly asked, “You talked to Ye Jishu. How is he?”
“He’s fine. Why?”
“Nothing.”
The remark was abrupt.
Lin Lin paused mid-phone call and stared at him.
“If there’s no evidence, you can’t just take action against an ordinary person.”
Yet Wei Yangze, seemingly indifferent, casually brought up something else.
“I know. By the way, you’re a Level 2 dispatch officer. After this mission, you’ll be heading back to headquarters, right?”
Only Level 1 enforcers were stationed permanently in specific areas.
Level 2 officers were mobile personnel, responsible for containment before a situation involving a [Source of Infection] deteriorated. They were essentially foundational support staff.
“…”
“If you’re not prepared to die, don’t take on missions in this region again,” Wei Yangze said, his tone carrying a hint of coldness.
“You… discovered something?” Lin Lin asked.
“Not certain yet.”
Wei Yangze answered, stepping onto the staircase and gazing downward.
It was a winding spiral staircase.
From its twisted steps, through the dark gaps, one could see someone seated on the lowest floor, holding something that reflected light.
The person was gaming.
Faint sounds from the device climbed up the stairs.
Then, the noise stopped.
The individual had noticed someone watching them. They rose from the steps, slipping their phone into their jacket, and descended alongside another figure.
Wei Yangze fixed his gaze, watching the two silhouettes leave the teaching building side by side.
Fragments of whispered words from that night replayed in his mind.
[The extraordinary human I’ve always been looking for…]
[I can’t believe I dared to disturb [Him]…]
“But soon, I’ll confirm it,” he muttered.
The downpour swallowed the rest of his words, leaving him watching Ye Jishu’s retreating figure intently, his gaze unwavering.
–
Ye Jishu closed the dormitory door behind him.
The old dormitory reeked of damp moldiness during rainy weather.
His roommate wasn’t with him.
The other person had mentioned heading to the restroom but soon texted Ye Jishu.
[I won’t be coming back. Thank you. I hope we can stay good friends.]
[But.]
[If you want to… make sure to stay away from that…]
Ye Jishu started typing a reply.
[What do you mean by that?]
However, his message felt like a stone thrown into a vast sea—no response came.
He waited a while, only to hear Yan Mei’s voice behind him.
Under the other’s watchful eyes, he slipped his phone back into his pocket and stood up, taking Yan Mei’s outstretched hand.
They returned to the dorm together.
On the way, coldness climbed up Ye Jishu’s arm.
Yan Mei had only brought one umbrella.
Thus, Ye Jishu had to lean closer to avoid getting wet.
Silence blanketed them as they walked side by side.
Until, near the dormitory building, Yan Mei suddenly stopped.
When Ye Jishu turned to look, Yan Mei unexpectedly said, “That day, it was like this, too.”
“…”
Although caught off guard, Ye Jishu immediately understood what he meant.
That day.
He’d refused someone else’s umbrella and unexpectedly witnessed a girl confessing to Yan Mei.
[For some reason, he himself ended up confessing.]
[Even more surprising was that Yan Mei accepted his confession.]
From that day forward…
Yan Mei did the same—he held an umbrella and escorted Ye Jishu back to the dormitory.
“It’s been four months now.”
Yan Mei reached out, his fingers brushing Ye Jishu’s earlobe.
Then they moved to the back of his neck, gently stroking and caressing.
Ye Jishu suddenly raised his hand, grabbing Yan Mei’s wrist.
Yan Mei froze.
What happened next was unclear to him.
Because the moment Yan Mei leaned in and their soft lips met, every memory seemed to dissolve into the searing heat of another presence.
By the time they returned to the dormitory, Ye Jishu’s sluggish mind finally started working again.
He lay on his bed, staring blankly at the moldy patches on the ceiling.
[Today ends like this.]
[No matter how much I hesitate, there will be no conclusion. Better leave it for tomorrow’s me to worry about.]
With that thought, he closed his eyes and fell asleep.
The next morning, Ye Jishu was awakened by his phone alarm.
His body felt heavy.
His mind was foggy, and he didn’t want to get up.
He took a deep breath, feeling as though his brain had been stuffed with stones—leaden and incapable of processing.
Ye Jishu groped for his phone and checked the time.
10 a.m.
In a short while, his professional class would begin.
He forced himself up.
His temples throbbed.
[I must’ve caught a cold.]
[Probably because of yesterday’s rain.]
He set down his phone sluggishly, climbed down from the upper bunk, and began his morning routine: a shower, brushing his teeth, and finishing other hygiene tasks.
Returning to his wardrobe, Ye Jishu rummaged for a hoodie, opting for something simple since he lacked the energy to dress up, then grabbed his backpack and left the dormitory.
As he passed his roommate’s bed, he cast a final glance, shut the door, and left.
The hallway was bustling with students.
Some were emerging from classrooms after their previous class.
Behind him, snippets of conversation floated through the air.
“Last night was terrifying! The forum turned completely red with text in the middle of the night!”
“Right?! I saw it too!”
“Not to mention the power outage—there wasn’t even a notice! My power bank didn’t even get fully charged. So creepy!”
Hearing this, Ye Jishu paused momentarily before entering his classroom.
Though there was still time before the next class, the back rows were already filled.
While the math faculty had its share of academically-driven students, studying wasn’t everyone’s priority. The first three rows were completely empty.
He spotted a seat in the third-to-last row.
However, sitting there would mean squeezing in with others.
But sitting in the front was far too conspicuous.
After a brief moment of hesitation, Ye Jishu made his way to the back and sat in the empty seat.
At least here, sleeping wouldn’t get him caught by the professor.
“You… How can you sit there?!”
Almost instantly, the person next to him let out a startled exclamation.
Ye Jishu: “?”
His motion to rest his head on the desk froze mid-action. Slowly, he turned to face the speaker.
It was a somewhat familiar face, though he couldn’t recall their name.
Ye Jishu’s half-open eyes fixated on them for a few seconds.
Although he said nothing, his reaction made everything clear.
“No way! You still don’t remember who I am?!” the person exclaimed, visibly incredulous, their composure visibly cracking. “Just two days ago, you broke my hand! I was planning to sneak back to the dorm that night so my brother wouldn’t find out, but—”
The voice cut off abruptly.
The latter half of the sentence was swallowed back, leaving only the trembling of his body and the constriction of his pupils—a visceral reaction to recalling a horrifying memory.
To divert the awkward topic, he raised his hand toward Ye Jishu.
It was still wrapped in medical bandages.
His forearm was bound with a splint, making his movements particularly stiff and awkward.
“Let me say it again, my name is Bo Zhehan. ‘Bo’ as in Bocheng Technology.”
After finishing, he deliberately paused for a moment.
But in front of him, Ye Jishu merely responded with an indifferent “Oh,” before lying back on the desk, resting his head on his arms, and avoiding further engagement.
“…” Bo Zhehan.
No way.
No reaction after hearing his name?
Because of his feelings for Yan Mei, he had specifically paid attention to Ye Jishu, his nominal rival in love.
On multiple occasions, he had seen Ye Jishu either gaming during class or watching replay streams on his phone after class. But now, after announcing his identity, Ye Jishu seemed entirely clueless about who he was.
Is he pretending?
Bocheng Technology was the owner of the largest live-streaming platform at present—a company run by his elder brother.
Moreover, the Bo family had built their fortune in the gaming industry.
Whether it was newly released domestic games or foreign imports, the Bo family had a hand in nearly all of them.
As the youngest member of the family, Bo Zhehan had been pushed into the spotlight numerous times to appear on their live-streaming platform, interacting with popular streamers…
He had even graced the platform’s front page!
Moreover, he even made it onto trending searches!
Yet, despite Bo Zhehan’s intense gaze, practically burning through Ye Jishu’s arm as it covered his face, the latter showed no reaction at all.
“…”
Bo Zhehan wanted to scream.
Why did he feel so defeated?!
His friends nearby, however, were much more enthusiastic.
Seeing Bo Zhehan’s frustrated expression as he failed to elicit any response and didn’t know how to approach Ye Jishu, one of his friends immediately said, “See? I told you he’s a weirdo! Zhehan, just stop talking to him. What about that project you mentioned last time? Tell us more about it!”
Faced with such enthusiasm, Bo Zhehan’s lips curved into a proud smile. “Ah, you mean the Star-Making Plan?”
“…”
“I’m telling you, this time there’s a chance YJS might join. If that happens, I’m definitely going to seize the opportunity to talk to him properly.”
“As expected of Zhehan!” At this, his friends looked at him with admiration. “If I remember correctly, that’s…”
Bo Zhehan smirked. “That’s right, my favorite streamer.”
Last night—
After encountering [those things] and learning the truth about the world, he unsurprisingly couldn’t sleep.
But what he didn’t expect was that his favorite streamer, YJS, happened to be live!
Although the game being streamed was one of his least favorite genres—horror games—he couldn’t resist indulging himself a little.
He should have been terrified.
But as he watched YJS’s swift and precise gameplay, accompanied by the sound of faint, steady breathing, his pounding heart gradually calmed down.
[Is this what they call excitement?]
When he woke up, the first thing Bo Zhehan did was beg his elder brother to invite YJS to join their latest project.
Strictly speaking, YJS didn’t meet the project’s criteria.
After all, YJS never spoke, never revealed their face, and didn’t even have accounts on platforms like Weibo. This project was all about creating stars.
It was hard to imagine what someone like YJS would bring to a collaborative project.
His elder brother was strict, and Bo Zhehan had expected to plead persistently for a long time.
Unexpectedly, after watching one of YJS’s recent streams, his brother surprisingly agreed and had the team send out an invitation.
“Anyway, it’s all thanks to you! I’ve been wanting to see more of YJS’s streams for ages, but their schedule is so unpredictable. Watching replays just doesn’t feel the same. If they join the project, we’ll get advance notifications.”
“Haha, of course.”
Bo Zhehan’s tone was full of pride at his favorite streamer being recognized. “But it’s not my credit—it’s all because YJS is amazing.”
“…” Ye Jishu.
“When the time comes, I’ll also join the stream as a special guest. Everyone better watch. I’m definitely going to get YJS’s private contact info. I just love that cool and composed demeanor. The way they ignore the barrage of comments is so satisfying.”
Bo Zhehan’s statement left his friends momentarily speechless.
That’s… a pretty niche reason to like someone.
But soon—
“…Brother Bo, you’ll totally manage it!”
Bo Zhehan didn’t notice the strange looks on their faces. “Of course. I’m definitely chasing after them.”
Listening to their conversation, Ye Jishu quietly turned his face the other way, resting his cheek on his arm. A single thought flashed through his mind.
[I see.]
[So this is why I was invited.]
He’d already wondered why clearing a single game could suddenly get him noticed by a live-streaming platform.
On his way to the classroom, he had already agreed to the invitation.
After all, if it was for Yan Mei’s birthday, he didn’t want to be unprepared without a gift…
From the gap between his sleeve and his hoodie, Ye Jishu glanced at the teacher, who had just entered the classroom and was setting a thermos down on the desk, preparing to go over last lesson’s homework.
He looked at the formulas written on the blackboard.
They were all problems he already knew how to solve.
That meant he could start sleeping now.
And so, he buried his face back into his arms, letting his consciousness drift into darkness.
Even as he fell asleep, he didn’t notice that Bo Zhehan, sitting beside him, had been glancing at him for a while. His movements had gradually slowed down.
“Brother Bo, let me tell you something interesting. It’s about—”
“Shh.”
Bo Zhehan silenced him, turning to glare at the speaker.
The latter immediately shut up.
Bo Zhehan raised his hand.
Understanding the gesture, the person eagerly handed him their phone. The headline on the screen instantly caught his eye:
[Does anyone know? Professor Chen Wanhui from the Mathematics Department has gone insane!! I attended his class today, and he suddenly started crawling around on the podium, growling like a dog… It was terrifying…]