A bizarre and terrifying experience; I messed up the dungeon world.

Zhou Lang stirred the noodles in his bowl with his chopsticks. Underneath the noodles was a note; the writing was somewhat blurred from being soaked in the soup, but still legible—

Don't look at the painting in Room 3.

He hid the note in his pocket and continued eating his noodles.

Han Yingying also took out a piece of paper from her bowl: "What I wrote on this one is—things drawn during the day will come to life at night."

The two exchanged a glance.

After finishing their meal, everyone went back to their rooms. Zhou Lang locked the door and checked the room first. The area under the bed was clean, there were only a few empty clothes hangers in the closet, the windows were tightly closed, and the curtains were drawn.

There was a booklet on the bedside table with the title "Guest Information for Songlinling B&B".

Zhou Lang flipped it open and took a look.

Article 1: Get up at 6:00 AM and be back in your room before midnight.

Article 2: You must complete one painting every day. The theme is not limited, but you can only paint things that you have personally seen.

Article 3: The door to room number three is always closed. If you see it open, do not go in.

Rule 4: If you hear someone talking in your ear while you are drawing, do not turn around, keep drawing.

Article 5: If you hear a knock at the door at night, look through the peephole first. If there is no shadow of the person standing outside, do not open the door.

Article 6: Your paintings will be taken away at midnight every night. If you find a painting still in your room in the morning, burn it.

There weren't many rules, but each one was strange.

Zhou Lang put the manual back in its place and lay down on the bed.

There were still two hours until midnight. He needed to sort out the logic of this instance.

"Sketching" is the surface task, the note inside the noodles is an extra tip, and the guest instructions are the basic rules. Room number three is mentioned repeatedly, so it's probably a key location.

The two pieces of information, "Draw things you have seen with your own eyes" and "Things you draw during the day will come to life at night," are quite interesting when put together.

If the things you draw come to life at night—what about drawing ghosts?

Zhou Lang pondered for a moment, then turned over.

At 11:50, footsteps echoed down the corridor. It wasn't just one person's footsteps; it sounded like many people walking simultaneously, but with perfectly synchronized steps. The order was almost inhuman.

The footsteps paused for a few seconds at his door, then continued walking.

Zhou Lang didn't move.

At exactly twelve o'clock, someone knocked on the door.

Three tones, very rhythmic.

Zhou Lang got out of bed, walked to the door, and looked out through the peephole.

A person stood in the hallway. She wore a long white dress, her long hair reaching her waist, and faced his door. The hallway light behind her was still on, but only the light shone on the floor; there was no shadow of her.

Zhou Lang took a step back and returned to bed.

There were three more knocks on the door, followed by scratching and rustling sounds that lasted for about five minutes.

Then, it was quiet.

The first night passed just like that.

The next morning at six o'clock sharp, the old lady knocked on the door to wake her up.

After Zhou Lang finished washing up, he went downstairs. Several people were already seated in the dining room. Han Yingying had arrived earlier than him and was drinking porridge, looking rather pale.

"Didn't sleep well last night?" Zhou Lang sat down next to her.

"Someone stood at my door for a long time in the middle of the night." She paused. "...It wasn't a person."

Have you checked it on Maoyan?

"No shadow."

"That's right, as long as the door isn't open."

The bald, burly man walked over carrying two steamed buns and plopped down next to Zhou Lang: "Brothers, did you hear the noise in the hallway last night too? I almost couldn't resist opening the door and punching it."

Zhou Lang glanced at him: "How many times have you entered this dungeon?"

"The second time," the bald man said. "The last instance was easy; it was just hiding things in a supermarket, and I just toughed it out. This time it feels a bit different."

"Not quite the same" is an understatement. I was lucky to have managed to hold out last time, but if I try to force it again this time, I'm afraid I'll be finished.

After breakfast, everyone took their art supplies and went out to sketch.

The scenery of Songlinling is indeed beautiful, if you ignore the odd things—for example, the occasional tree with a human face growing on its trunk in the pine forest, or the reflections of several figures that don't belong to anyone in the mountain stream.

Zhou Lang chose an open space to sit down and set up his easel.

He wasn't actually very good at drawing. In his previous life, he learned how to survive, not how to create art. But since the alternate version gave him an identity, he now had the corresponding basic skills, and when he picked up a pen, he looked quite decent.

He painted the pine forest in front of him. He painted it honestly, without adding or subtracting anything.

Han Yingying set up her easel not far from him. Her painting was clearly better than Zhou Lang's—not just better, it was practically professional. With just a few strokes, the layers and light and shadow of the pine tree came to life.

"You studied this before?" Zhou Lang walked over and took a look.

"A high school art student." Han Yingying didn't look up and continued drawing. "She didn't get into art school and later switched to another major."

This was an unexpected bonus. In a scenario where drawing is required, having this skill level gives you a significant advantage over others.

By noon, most people had finished their first painting.

The tall, thin man with glasses painted a stream; the composition was meticulous, showing his skill. The couple painted a mountain scene together, with the man painting the background and the woman adding the foreground; their collaboration was quite harmonious.

The bald, burly man handed in a drawing… Zhou Lang glanced at it and almost burst out laughing. It was a pine tree, but it was drawn as a stick with a green sphere on top.

"I did my best," the bald man said frankly.

The old lady accepted the painting and said with a smile, "Not bad, not bad."

The afternoon was free time. Most people chose to stay in the guesthouse and not go out. Zhou Lang took this opportunity to tour the interior of the guesthouse.

The first floor houses the lobby, dining room, and kitchen. The second floor has six rooms, occupied by male students. The third floor has six rooms, occupied by female students. Each floor has a window at the end of the corridor, facing the mountain behind the building.

And room number three—

周浪走到二楼走廊里，203是他自己的房间，再往前走两步就是203旁边的……201、202、204。

There is no 203.

不对。他退后几步重新数。201，202，紧接着就是204。门牌号从202直接跳到了204，中间的203不存在。

However, the guest notice clearly mentions room number three.

Zhou Lang knocked on the wall between rooms 202 and 204. The sound was solid, not like there was a hollow space between them.

"You noticed it too?"

The voice came from the other end of the corridor. It was a tall, thin man wearing glasses. He leaned against the wall and adjusted his glasses: "I measured it. The wall thickness between 202 and 204 is normal. There's no space to partition off a room. But the rules say that the door to room number three should always be closed."

"A room that doesn't exist, and a door that's always closed," Zhou Lang said.

"There's one possibility," the tall, thin man said, "that room number three isn't on the second floor. Or rather, room number three isn't in a fixed location."

This person is quick-witted.

Zhou Lang sized him up: "What's your name?"

"Lin Zhe. Third time entering the dungeon."

"Highly experienced."

"Not really, I survived the first two times by luck," Lin Zhe said. "But this instance is a bit strange. Did you notice? This instance has far fewer rules than the others, but the connections between each rule are exceptionally strong. 'You can only draw things you've actually seen' and 'Your paintings will be taken away at night'—where do those taken paintings go?"