At ten that night, the third group prepared to do the feeding.
Zhao Huai walked over to the vat, about to lift the lid and take a look, but an arm covered in thick black hair beat her to it.
"Little Huai," Lu Dalu said, moving the lid aside, "Shang Anbang said this stuff stinks like a rotting corpse. Let me handle it."
Zhao Huai stepped aside, deeply touched. "Thank you. You're such a good person, Dalu."
"In previous instances, everyone I met thought I looked easy to push around, so they dumped all the dirty, exhausting, dangerous work on me."
Lu Dalu scooped the contents of the vat into a small bowl. Hearing her words, he wondered whether that mention of "previous instances" was true. If it was, she was a regular player. If it wasn't...
He forgot to hold his breath as he bent down. The overpowering stench rushed into his nose and nearly knocked him out.
For a moment, he really wanted to shove the bowl at Zhao Huai and tell her to do it herself.
But if Zhao Huai was the ghost, casually inventing experiences from past games to make him unconsciously accept her as a regular player-that would be far too cunning. The more he thought about it, the more terrifying it became.
Fighting back his nausea, Lu Dalu scooped out a full bowl of food.
Better to stay on guard and give her no chance to do anything that might interfere with the feeding.
The wind and snow were milder tonight than yesterday. The two of them reached the fence surrounding the doghouse, and the gate opened with a gentle push.
As they entered, Lu Dalu noticed blood on the gate and shuddered.
He crouched in front of the doghouse, too afraid to look