Chapter 7: The High-Scoring Eccentric Wen Mou

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Jennifer doubted her own eyes—this older boy was really heading toward Uncle Jack’s room. Yet Wen Xishu remained composed, and his calmness lent Jennifer some strength.

The hallway twisted back on itself like a maze, a ghostly trap. Perhaps the true exit lay hidden within one of the rooms on this floor.

At first, Wen Xishu was uncertain, until a clue appeared.

“This floor has many rooms. Searching them one by one could stir up noise and waste time, but combining Jack’s words, the right choice becomes clear.”

“As always, Jack’s words are actually quite explicit hints.”

Jack’s room was indeed on this floor, not far from Jennifer’s home. This proximity made Remian, who lived upstairs, quite envious.

The door was unlocked, half-open and half-closed, exuding a chilling, sinister aura that deterred anyone from approaching.

Jack had once been a genuinely good man.

Before turning into a monster, he trusted those around him so much that he left his door unlocked to make it easier for others to seek his help.

In this world, some people, though poor themselves, still find joy in helping others.

Wen Xishu wasted no time. Taking Jennifer’s hand, he stepped inside.

As they entered, “Jack” appeared in the hallway behind them. His face was obscured by the faces of several other residents, torn off and stitched together into a grotesque mask.

Four eyes, two crooked noses, and four oddly angled ears were sewn together with black thread.

Only the mouth was his own, still emitting a mad, deranged laughter.

That laughter seemed to carry a strange power, echoing through every room except his own, which remained unaffected.

---

Sunlight filtered into the room but did nothing to brighten or warm Jack’s chamber.

Instead, the faint light only highlighted its decay.

Bare, damp walls loomed silently. Two old, worn chairs sat abandoned, gently rocking and creaking in a way that made one’s teeth ache.

Surprisingly, there was a refrigerator, but the stench emanating from it was nauseating—it reeked of blood.

Jennifer shivered. Wen Xishu squeezed her small hand; the warmth from his palm gave her a sense of grounding.

Until this moment, Wen Xishu had not spoken, only calmly typing:

“Looks like this is the audience seat prepared for us.”

He sat down directly. At that instant, he felt as if lying in an ice cellar, the cold penetrating to his very bones.

The surroundings shifted in hue, tinged with a faint crimson. In his mind, a giant smiling face flickered in and out of view.

Wen Xishu remained unfazed. He beckoned Jennifer with a reassuring smile, offering her courage.

So, Jennifer sat down as well.

The performance began.

---

The scene Wen Xishu witnessed was eerie.

A gigantic smile loomed over an entire city.

Yet the inhabitants seemed oblivious to this grinning face shading the sky.

The smile was not menacing; it even felt oddly soothing.

Beneath the smile lay the city of Moen.

It was a young city, and Jack, no longer young, was in Moen City Hospital.

He had been taught since childhood to greet others with a smile, to be polite, to be someone who brought joy.

But with a terminal stomach cancer diagnosis, he could no longer smile.

Approaching death, regardless of one’s social role—as a workhorse or a slacker—one comes to realize their own humanity.

At life’s end, Jack wanted to be human again, to be a good man.

He carried his medical report and trudged back to the old building.

The room was stark and bare: a kettle, a bed, two chairs, and a defunct refrigerator now used solely for storage.

He found an old notebook and wrote down his wishes.

“As a colleague, I really dislike Remian’s behind-the-back slander. But I suppose life has forced him to be bitter.”

“There are many kinds of protective shells in this world—some keep you warm, others shield you from harm.”

“Perhaps Remian wears the latter.”

“I have my own shell; I hope it’s like Mom said, something that can bring joy.”

“I should reconcile with Remian. After all, we’re neighbors and colleagues. At life’s end, I don’t want anyone to hold a grudge against me.”

“I just want to be remembered as a good man on my tombstone, in memories.”

Jack exhaled deeply, a faint smile touching his face.

“I like spending time with little Jennifer, though Yulia always says men these days dislike women with children; men are practical and cruel.”

“But in my heart, little Jennifer is truly adorable; she’s one of the few who enjoys my performances.”

“My life’s purpose is to bring laughter to others, though to many, I am meaningless.”

“But not to little Jennifer... We agreed to watch my new show at my home tomorrow.”

“The troupe is struggling more and more. Perhaps I should add some stand-up comedy to my act.”

“I’m losing touch with what makes young people laugh, but Jennifer is even younger than they are.”

Thinking of Jennifer coming to see his performance, Jack’s smile grew warmer and more healing. Even with clown makeup, he didn’t seem eerie, terrifying, or grotesque.

“And my good friend Anderson—I’ve saved some money, though I probably won’t get to use it.”

“Anderson is a good man. In this building, he’s the only one who regularly talks to me. Despite being busy, he always finds time for me.”

“My money would just be wasted on myself. I should leave some for him... maybe it can help him live better.”

“Lastly, my mother. I’m sorry, I may go before you…”

“Mom, I love you so much. I hope you stay healthy, even though you’re also tormented by illness…”

“What saddens me most is that I probably won’t be able to work hard to earn money anymore. Time is running out.”

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“I’ve been listening to you; I’ve been eating well. My stomach condition definitely isn’t from hunger, absolutely not. I don’t know how it came about.”

“I’ve been living okay, then suddenly fell ill.”

“But I’ll try to keep myself as healthy as possible to see you one last time.”

Jack’s words about his mother were somewhat insincere. He feared that after his death, she would blame herself for his illness due to not feeding him well enough.

In truth, he often went hungry, was emaciated, but he didn’t want his mother to think that way.

Just as he had always done, he reported only good news and hid his troubles.

His confidante Jennifer, his beloved Yulia, colleague Remian, friend Anderson, and mother—they formed the core of Jack’s life now.

That was why his room didn’t even have a door that could be closed, and he never bothered to fix it.

It was as if the door being open invited these people to come in and talk.

Even if they asked for help, piling more troubles onto his already difficult life, it was happiness to him.

---

Life is not a mirror; it does not always smile back at a smile.

After finishing the lengthy note, his farewell to the world, Jack stared blankly for a while before heading upstairs.

He went to find Remian.

Soon, he apologized, not minding Remian’s condescending forgiveness.

As long as no one in the building hated him anymore.

He should have left then, but suddenly thought he ought to clarify—he was dying, and dead men couldn’t pursue love.

He wanted Remian to know that Miss Yulia wouldn’t be interested in someone like him, and that after his death, the room could be Remian’s.

He wanted to support and bless Remian, encouraging him to pursue love, even if Yulia likely wouldn’t choose anyone from this building.

So Jack returned to find Remian.

Remian was on the phone.

“Yulia, believe me, Jack’s poverty speaks for itself, but he’s also lazy and mean-spirited.”

“You know his performances always disgust people, and now he’s not just grossing out adults.”

“Last week, he suggested performing at schools…”

“How vicious he is! Those poor children! His hideous appearance will scar them psychologically! I’ll make sure everyone knows his true face.”

“Did you know he doesn’t love children? He actually hates them.”

“I heard he invited Jennifer to watch his show alone. Oh please, keep Jennifer away from him. She’ll have nightmares!”

Jack stood at the top of the stairs, his smile frozen.

This scene had played out more than once.

Sometimes to the circus leader, sometimes to Yulia—Remian always liked to speak ill behind others’ backs.

There is no such thing as camouflage—some people are simply bad.

The giant smile in the sky twisted with a hint of malice.

---

Anderson was Jack’s good friend.

Jack had always believed that having one true friend in life was a blessing.

He wanted to say a proper goodbye and give Anderson some money.

But when he returned home to retrieve the money, he found Anderson and his girlfriend in his room.

“This place reeks of mold. Why do you keep money here?” the woman sneered.

Anderson replied matter-of-factly:

“This broken house is my safe... no, my money tree.”

“Jack, that idiot, always hides money in the fridge’s compartments. No one but me knows.”

The woman was puzzled:

“But if you take his money, wouldn’t he know it was you?”

Anderson laughed awkwardly:

“Of course, but it doesn’t matter. I just make up some excuse, like I’m sick, and the idiot believes me.”

“He even worries about me, asks if I have enough. Sometimes when he’s out of money, he tells me to wait; he’ll go do odd jobs.”

The woman was astonished:

“People like this exist?”

Anderson’s grin grew shameless:

“He’s one of those who claims he’d give anything for a friend, and I’m that friend.”

“So the money was mine all along. God saw how hard I’ve worked and gave me a living piggy bank as a companion.”

“Come on, darling, tonight I’ll treat you to a nice dinner, then we’ll get a room!”

Anderson wrapped his arm around the woman’s waist. She felt something was off.

Anderson added:

“In this world, some people pay tribute for love, others for friendship. I gave him the illusion of friendship, so he gives me money. Makes sense, right?”

The woman nodded, their laughter drowning out the sound of tears falling outside the door.

The gigantic smile in the sky had grown grotesque, its eyes glowing with eerie crimson; the clouds stained red.

Jack hid, looking disheveled. He wanted to scream in hysteria but stopped himself.

He only waited for Anderson to leave, then quietly took out the remaining money.

The bills stared silently at his sorrowful face, as if wondering to whom this man would give them.

In this world, rich people express love in many ways—smiles, greetings, social media posts thanking the world…

Countless people rush to praise them.

But for the poor, love seems to be expressed only through money. Without money, all your efforts seem like outdated circus acts…

Not laughter, only disgust and ridicule. It shouldn’t be this way.

Yet Jack still held the money, intending to give it to Jennifer and Yulia.

He called Yulia, wanting to say, “If you’re busy, I can pick Jennifer up from school, okay?”

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But Yulia refused the call. When he tried again, her phone was powered off.

He walked toward the school, clutching his stomach, a pain like the world collapsing concentrated in his gut, twisting and wrenching.

At the school gate, he saw Jennifer and Yulia.

Yulia seemed to have finished work early today.

Perhaps because of Remian’s call, Yulia’s gaze toward Jack was especially wary.

Jack didn’t know how to face Yulia. He looked only at Jennifer:

“Little Jennifer, you’re coming to see my show, right?”

“Jennifer’s busy tomorrow; she has tutoring,” Yulia said, her hatred equal toward everyone in the building.

She considered herself a beautiful woman, worthy only of a handsome white millionaire.

Her current fall to the slums was only temporary, like Cinderella being found by a prince.

“The domineering CEO will surely fall in love with me, a divorced single mother.”

“Well... the day after tomorrow?”

“The day after tomorrow she has tutoring, too.”

“How about the day after that? Or a few days later...”

“No time, no time! Tutoring every day! And Jennifer and I are moving soon. Don’t bother us anymore! Jennifer, let’s go.”

Yulia pulled Jennifer away.

Jack had been struggling to endure the pain but finally collapsed to one knee, retching, though nothing truly came up.

He wanted to apologize to Jennifer for showing such a pitiful side.

But Yulia had already taken Jennifer away decisively, like shaking off a plague.

Jennifer wanted to turn back and hug Jack, tears shining in her eyes, but Yulia grabbed her hand sharply:

“Jennifer, don’t look back!”

That was the last thing Jack heard Yulia say.

Then laughter arose—not joyful, but mocking.

Jack began to wail loudly.

A grown man crying on his knees drew scornful laughter from a group of children.

Jack suddenly wanted to give up struggling, to rest on the ground, but at that moment, a call came through.

“Mr. Jack, this is Moen City Fourth Nursing Home. Your mother recently had an accident.”

“We... we’ve done all we can. Perhaps you should come to the nursing home.”

The phone dropped to the ground, its cracked screen fracturing further. It made no sound; the world seemed frozen in that moment.

All the beauty and hope in life died before his own.

The giant smile in the sky twisted into a horrific mask, its red eyes illuminating the world in a bloody hue.

The mocking voices ceased abruptly, replaced by a faint, deranged laughter.

Under immense pressure, the man who wanted to bring joy to the world seemed alive and yet dead.

What Jack did not know was that he had already been chosen by the Tower. His fate would not end here.

---

The two chairs stopped rocking.

Wen Xishu and Jennifer both came to their senses. Tears filled Jennifer’s eyes—whether from fear or sorrow for Jack’s ordeal, it was unclear.

Wen Xishu remained calm, his attention drawn elsewhere.

On the bare wall appeared two blood-red numbers:

97, 61.

Wen Xishu frowned slightly, then smiled.

An annotation appeared in his eyes, but due to low resistance to magic, it remained garbled.

Still, he guessed the meaning of the numbers.

As the audience, Jennifer scored 61 points—a passing grade, fitting for an NPC, neither high nor low.

Wen Xishu scored 97 points.

He was certain because, although he couldn’t decipher the garbled annotation, another hint was given:

[You repeatedly shared the same thoughts as the eerie Jack. Throughout the viewing, you did not pity Jack but harbored a desire to kill. You only disagreed in one aspect. You are truly Jack’s confidant.]

[Item acquired: Invitation Letter—Joyful Jennifer.]

[Eerie Jennifer’s favorability increased.]

In other words, while watching Jack’s day of despair from a special perspective, Wen Xishu, unlike Jennifer, did not weep or sympathize.

He even thought, “Boring. Why cry? I want to see rivers of blood, jump ahead to his tenfold dark transformation, and watch him kill freely.”

Knowing Jack indeed went on a killing spree in reality, Wen Xishu found the viewing quite thrilling.

He hadn’t expected to receive such an incredibly high score:

“I share a kindred spirit with a psychopath and got a special item?”

In his pocket was indeed a finely textured invitation letter. Opening it, he read:

[Jennifer from Moen City’s slums is unhappy lately. Perhaps you can cheer her up.]

[Press your fingerprint on the invitation to interrupt and pause the Tower of Weird, enter the corresponding floor of the Tower of Desire to obtain important items, unlocking hidden storylines in both the Tower of Weird and Tower of Slaughter.]

Wen Xishu was stunned.

He realized the invitation was something very few could trigger.

In his limited memory, no one had ever mentioned it.

This thing could bypass the login device restrictions and forcibly transfer one to another tower?

What surprised Wen Xishu more was that the invitation mentioned not only the Tower of Desire but also the Tower of Slaughter.

The connections among the three towers were tighter than he thought.

He recalled the differentiated annotations of Eerie Jennifer and Desire Jennifer—could there also be Slaughter Jennifer?

Suddenly, little Jennifer spoke, breaking Wen Xishu’s train of thought:

“Big Brother... look, the stairs have appeared!”