At half past midnight, I finally dragged my utterly exhausted body back to my 30-square-meter rented apartment.

I lay down on the bed, closed my eyes, wanting only to immediately sink into dreamless darkness.

Just as my consciousness blurred, and I was about to fall into the abyss of sleep—

"Thump... thump-thump..."

An urgent yet weak knocking sound rang out, as if using the last ounce of strength.

"Xiao Su... are you home?"

It was Mr. Peterson, who lived across the hall. An elderly man living alone, his children all abroad, he seemed to treat me like another one of his children, often knocking on my door to bring me delicious food.

"Help... help me..." His voice was hoarse, filled with suppressed pain. "I can't... take me to... the hospital..."

I instantly sat up, most of my exhaustion and sleepiness dissipating.

Just as I was about to get out of bed, my vision suddenly blurred without warning.

Several lines of crimson words, as if written in blood, abruptly floated before my eyes. They weren't large, but they were terrifyingly clear, possessing a luminosity that didn't belong to this world.

[DON'T OPEN THE DOOR! IF YOU OPEN IT, YOU WILL DIE!]

I froze, blinking hard. Those blood-red words stubbornly remained in the center of my vision, as if seared onto my retina.

A hallucination?

It must be a hallucination. I've been working too much overtime lately, staring at a computer screen for over fifteen hours a day. My eyes and brain have long since started protesting. Last week, I even saw the office plants dancing before my eyes.

"Xiao Su... please..." The voice outside the door grew more pathetic, even tinged with a sob, accompanied by dull thuds, as if a body was hitting the door.

I shook my head, trying to dislodge the eerie red Warning Overlay from my vision. The blood-red words flickered, their color deepening, as if issuing a final warning to me.

This is ridiculous.

I threw off the covers and got out of bed. My feet landed on the cold floor, and I quickly walked towards the door. The blood-red Warning Overlay still followed my gaze, like a grotesque curse.

My hand gripped the cold metal doorknob.

The second before I turned it, the blood-red words flickered frantically, almost burning my eyes.

I took a deep breath, ignoring it.

"Mr. Peterson, don't worry, I'm coming right..."

I opened the door.

Outside the door, there was no Mr. Peterson, no dim, sound-activated light in the hallway, nothing at all.

Only a pure darkness that seemed to swallow all light. A thick, nauseating smell of blood mixed with a decaying, rusty odor rushed at me like a wall, instantly filling my nostrils.

My words caught in my throat.

Before my brain could even process this utterly bizarre situation, a cold, chilling gleam shot out from the darkness like lightning.

I didn't even see what it was.

I only felt a chill in my chest, and then an indescribable pain exploded. The object pierced through my body, with such force that it even made me stumble back a step.

I looked down.

The hilt of a knife was plunged into my chest, black and ancient in design. Blood gushed out from the wound, quickly staining my light-colored pajamas crimson.

Strength drained from my limbs like an ebbing tide. I opened my mouth but couldn't make a sound, only bloody foam spilled from the corners of my lips. My knees buckled, and I fell straight backward, my head hitting the floor with a heavy thud.

My vision blurred, the outlines of the ceiling twisting and spinning in my sight.

Just then, those blood-red words vanished. In their place, countless new, densely packed Warning Overlays appeared, like a celebratory waterfall, instantly flooding my entire field of vision.

[THIRD VICTIM.]

[Hahahaha, they actually opened it. First time seeing someone so stupid.]

[Don't say that, the previous one. Newcomers just don't know the rules.]

[This girl has a good figure, what a shame.]

[Who's next? Hurry up, can't wait!]

So... it wasn't a hallucination...

I was swallowed by boundless cold and darkness.

...

My consciousness, like a stone sunken to the bottom of the sea, slowly and laboriously floated upwards. I felt a soft sensation enveloping my body, and the familiar scent of laundry detergent mixed with sunshine lingered at my nostrils.

My heart was beating powerfully in my chest.

I abruptly opened my eyes.

What greeted my eyes was my all-too-familiar ceiling, one corner still bearing a faint yellow stain from a leak during last year's rainy season. Outside the window, the dim moonlight persisted. Everything in the room was exactly as I remembered it.

I sat up, threw off the covers, and frantically felt my own body with both hands.

A flat stomach, an intact chest, no wounds, no blood. The light-colored pajamas I was wearing were so clean there wasn't a single speck of dirt.

A dream?

A nightmare so incredibly real, brought on by excessive stress?

I was panting heavily, cold sweat already soaking my back. My heart pounded as if it would leap out of my throat. The moment the knife pierced me, the pain was so real; the dull ache of my head hitting the floor when I fell seemed to linger. And that thick, cloying smell of blood…

And… those Warning Overlays.

My hands trembled as I reached for the water glass on the bedside table, trying to calm myself.

Just then—

*Thump, thump, thump!*

A series of urgent, weak knocks, identical to those in my “dream,” once again echoed through the dead of midnight.

Immediately after, that old, pained, hoarse cry for help, word for word, penetrated the door, piercing my eardrums with precision.

“Xiao Su… help me…”

The phantom-like sharp pain in my abdomen, like a cold blade, once again gouged my consciousness out of the chaos.

I snapped my eyes open, still slumped in the sofa. The familiar feel, the familiar posture, even the faint, greasy smell of takeout in the air was identical. On the wall clock, the hour and minute hands precisely overlapped at half past twelve.

Everything was exactly as it had been before I “died.”

This wasn't a dream.

This thought, like a seed instantly sprouting in dry soil, violently breaking through the earth, instantly consumed my entire being. Dreams wouldn't have such real pain, wouldn't have this bone-chilling, firsthand experience of death. I had been killed, just minutes ago, by that monster disguised as an old woman neighbor, stabbed in the abdomen with a fruit knife.

“Thump, thump-thump.”

The knocking, precisely on time. My heart suddenly constricted, as if gripped tightly by an invisible hand.

“Little girl, are you home? Can you help me…?”

That old, hoarse, pain-filled plea, through the thin door, each word like a poisoned needle, trying to pierce my eardrum and awaken my ill-timed compassion.

The blood-red Warning Overlay appeared before my eyes once more.

【Don't open the door! You'll be killed!】

【It's this person, she will kill you!】

【Please, believe us this once!】

Last time, I thought it was a hallucination, a nervous breakdown from working too much overtime. I opened the door. Then, I died.

This time, I stared intently at the words floating across my vision, my teeth grinding. Believe? Don't believe? Reason told me everything before my eyes was absurdly ridiculous, but the lingering memory of death in my body screamed frantically, warning me not to approach that door.

“Little girl? Are you asleep? I… I'm having a heart attack, I can't breathe…” The voice outside the door grew even weaker, filled with heartbreaking pleas and rapid gasps.

I clapped a hand over my mouth, forcing myself not to make a sound, but my body uncontrollably recoiled backward until my back pressed against the cold wall. I believed it. I chose to believe these eerie Warning Overlays.

To hell with reason, staying alive was what mattered most.

Time ticked by, second by agonizing second, each feeling like an eternity in a boiling cauldron. The pleas from outside gradually faded, turning into intermittent moans, and finally, vanished completely.

The world fell into a dead silence. Only my heavy breathing echoed in the thirty-square-meter rental apartment.

Was it over?

Leaning against the wall, my body, drained from fear and tension, slowly slid to the floor. Was it that simple? As long as I didn't open the door, I was safe? A sense of exhaustion, like surviving a catastrophe, enveloped me.

Just then, a new line of Warning Overlay, carrying an ominous premonition, slowly drifted across my vision.

【Hey, hey, hey, check your balcony!】

【Are you brain-dead? Only thinking about the front door?】

【The balcony door isn't closed!】

The balcony door!

I suddenly remembered that when I came home last night, I was distraught, and it seemed… I really hadn't locked the glass sliding door connecting the living room to the balcony! I had just pulled it shut casually, thinking no one could climb up to the sixth floor of an old residential building.

I scrambled out of the bedroom and rushed into the living room. My eyes were fixed on the glass door leading to the balcony.

The heavy curtains were drawn, obscuring the view outside. But the bottom edge of the curtains was trembling slightly, with the same frequency.

Something was on the balcony. It was moving.

I rushed to the door, my fingers icy cold, and grabbed a corner of the curtain, but I didn't have the courage to pull it open. Through a gap in the curtain, I vaguely saw the outline of the balcony railing outside, and the sparse city lights in the distance of the early morning.

Then, I saw a hand.

Pale, swollen, its finger joints bent at unnatural angles, it slowly slid along the bottom edge of the curtain, leaving a blurry, watery smudge on the glass.

“Ah—!” I let out a short gasp, then immediately clapped my hand tightly over my mouth.

The hand paused for a moment, then slowly withdrew.

【Did you see that?】

【It's a hand! Definitely a hand!】

【Lock the door quickly! Lock it tight!】

【Block it with something!】

Trembling, I reached out, gripped the sliding door's handle, and pulled it shut with all my might, then quickly engaged the latch. *Click.* The door was locked.

But that wasn't enough. I spun around and rushed towards the kitchen, desperate to find something to barricade the door.

In the few seconds it took me to leave the living room, out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse: the thick blackout curtain, slowly, silently... being lifted from the bottom, just a corner.

A bloodshot eye with a dilated pupil was staring fixedly, unblinkingly, through that narrow gap, directly at me.

"Bang!"

Bullet Screen Survival: The Death Stream — Chapter 3

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