Full Charm Points Attracts Dirty Things Chapter 18

Tang Yu opened his notebook and carefully wrote in the survival guide: “Players are currently running an instance. That weird staircase on the fifth floor seems to be the entrance. I should be more cautious passing by in the future—listen for player activity first before going up. (Even though I’m curious about the secrets in the instance, people who are overly curious in horror movies always die first.)”

“But brainstorming on my own should be fine, right?” Tang Yu tilted his head and continued writing: “Looping staircase, strange noises, Senior Li Sheng…”

“Forget it. I can’t figure it out.”

The class bell rang. Tang Yu closed his notebook and obediently sat in the classroom.

The teacher began taking attendance, and Tang Yu quickly noticed that seven out of eight players were absent—only one female player was there, sitting at her desk surrounded by textbooks for her major.

Even in a game, there are players who seriously attend class?

Players really are hard to figure out.

Tang Yu scratched his head and began to focus on the lesson.

He had always been diligent when it came to studying—especially during high school, when it felt like he nearly died trying to get into this university.

But all the hard work had been worth it.

Especially the moment he stood before his parents’ grave and told them he had been admitted to the school they had hoped for.

Tang Yu lowered his gaze and took notes earnestly.

Before he knew it, class was over. Tang Yu was dismayed to realize he’d apparently passed out for over ten minutes—none of the lesson had registered in his brain.

Sighing, he took out his phone and turned off airplane mode. A flood of messages from Shen Junxing popped up.

It started with a cute photo of a little black cat eating cat food in the grass, captioned: “Good morning. The little cat also wishes you a good morning.”

Tang Yu replied: “Good morning.”

Shen Junxing: “Bad morning.”

Shen Junxing: “I haven’t seen Little Yu all night and all morning.”

Then came a video call request from Shen Junxing.

Tang Yu declined it.

Shen Junxing: “I really want to show Little Yu the little cat right now. I think it’s the first time it’s had such delicious food—it looked like it was going to cry. It kept making these really cute noises.”

Then he sent a voice message.

Tang Yu hesitated, then silently pulled out his earphones and put them on.

Through the headphones came the sound of the kitten chewing and soft “mew mew” noises.

“Little Yu, you haven’t been home the past two days. I’ve never realized how big this place feels,” Shen Junxing said softly. “I made dinner, sat at the table alone, and didn’t really feel like eating.”

Tang Yu frowned and was about to hang up when he heard Shen Junxing say: “So I was thinking of holding a birthday party at home—to liven things up.”

“Birthday party?” Tang Yu repeated instinctively.

“Yeah, it’s my birthday in five days,” Shen Junxing said gently. “All these years, I’ve never really celebrated. But this year, I want to have a proper one.”

Five days from now—August 30th—was also the anniversary of Tang Yu’s parents’ death.

Shen Junxing’s birthday and Tang Yu’s parents’ death anniversary fell on the same day. Since they met, Shen Junxing had never celebrated his birthday.

He’d said he didn’t care for rituals, thought birthdays were troublesome, and preferred not to bother.

This was the first time Shen Junxing said he wanted to celebrate.

And he even used the formal phrase “birthday banquet.”

“Because I suddenly realized—I don’t have a single memory of a real birthday celebration. I used to wonder, what’s the point of having one? But today, eating alone, I finally found the answer.”

“A birthday banquet isn’t about the meal or the gifts—it’s about the people who show up.”

“It means that in this world, at least someone is happy that I exist.”

Shen Junxing’s tone was gentle, but held a faint, irrepressible loneliness.

“But when I actually started planning it, I realized I don’t really have any close friends or family. I don’t even know who to send the invitations to.”

Tang Yu opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out.

Shen Junxing, like him, was also an orphan. It was precisely because of this that over the years, though they called each other friends, they were more like family.

He knew Shen Junxing wasn’t lying—at his core, Shen Junxing was a cold person, someone few could truly connect with.

Shen Junxing’s hints were practically outright statements, yet Tang Yu found it hard to say no.

He wasn’t a fool. He actually knew one of the reasons Shen Junxing hadn’t celebrated his birthday all these years was because it fell on the same day as the memorial for Tang Yu’s parents.

“…Where are you planning to have the birthday party?” Tang Yu asked.

“At home.” Shen Junxing’s gentle voice came through the earphones. “Little Yu, will you come?”

From outside the earphones came a player’s expectant voice: “A birthday party? Can I come?”

Tang Yu’s eyes widened as he looked at the player who had suddenly popped up in front of him.

There was no trace of guilt in her for eavesdropping on something so improper—it didn’t seem immoral at all coming from a player. She flashed eight bright white teeth in a grin. After blatantly listening in on Tang Yu’s call, she openly flipped through the study notes on his desk. “These ones with question marks—you didn’t get them? Want me to explain?”

Tang Yu: “?”

He stared blankly at the “Intelligence: 8” displayed on the panel above the player’s head. Though quite a few players had impressive attribute stats, their wild behavior often made it hard for Tang Yu to associate them with anything resembling intelligence.

Wait, no—how did you actually understand this class? Aren’t you here to play a game?

“If Little Yu’s classmates want to come, I’d be happy to have them,” came Shen Junxing’s amused voice through the earphones. “Like this classmate helping Little Yu with his studies.”

The player couldn’t hear Shen Junxing, and kept passionately explaining the material to Tang Yu—doing it even better than the actual subject teacher.

Tang Yu glanced at her ID: “Female Lecturer Proficient in Human Nature.”

“This way, I can personally thank the classmates who’ve looked after Little Yu,” Shen Junxing said gently. “How about this: I’ll give Little Yu a few invitation cards, and he can invite whomever he wants.”

Shen Junxing-style gratitude, player-style care.

Tang Yu blinked.

…

After a full day of classes, in the afternoon, the rental agent sent a message asking if Tang Yu wanted to keep viewing apartments today.

Tang Yu thought for a moment and replied that he wouldn’t be looking for a while.

He decided to wait until Li Sheng finished creating the spirit house and the paper effigies before considering running away.

After a simple meal, Tang Yu headed back.

Ever since declining the agent’s message, his phone had been chiming nonstop, but Tang Yu didn’t check it right away. He walked quietly through the crowd, scanning each passerby’s stats above their heads and imagining their entire life stories based on those attributes.

It was a little pastime he enjoyed when spacing out.

By the time he reached the dorm building, the notification sounds were still going. Tang Yu pulled out his phone and glanced at the unread messages—most of them were from Shen Junxing:

“I found an apartment near your school with good conditions—one bedroom, one living room, one bathroom, 2000 a month. It’s next to a shopping district, close to the subway, super convenient.”

“Want to come check it out when you have time? Living on campus is never as comfortable as having your own place.”

“Living room (photo)”

“Bedroom (photo)”

“Bathroom (photo)”

“Neighborhood environment (photo)”

…

Tang Yu skimmed the messages and replied: “No need. I’m doing fine in the dorms.”

Above Shen Junxing’s chat bubble, it showed: “Typing…”

Shen Junxing: “Little Yu, do you really think being with Li Sheng is better than being with me?”

Tang Yu replied seriously: “Yes.”

He meant it.

Even with all his flaws, Li Sheng was at least a normal person. And the paper art Li Sheng made had real meaning.

Shen Junxing: “Okay. Great.”

Shen Junxing: “Happy puppy.jpg”

Shen Junxing: “If I were Li Sheng, I don’t know how happy I’d be to hear Little Yu say that.”

Tang Yu looked at the string of cute emoji and tone particles Shen Junxing sent. He could almost picture Shen Junxing’s beaming face—smiling so brightly it seemed twisted.

Shen Junxing: “Does Little Yu really know what Li Sheng does to you every night?”

Tang Yu’s footsteps halted. He stared at Shen Junxing’s message and asked directly: “Are you spying on me?”

Shen Junxing: “Little Yu, don’t misunderstand me.”

Tang Yu’s face was cold: “Then how do you know?”

There was a long silence from Shen Junxing’s end. Tang Yu didn’t check the phone again. He didn’t want to deal with Shen Junxing’s endless boundary-crossing behavior anymore. If he wasn’t secretly installing surveillance, then he was slandering Li Sheng—either way, Tang Yu couldn’t accept it.

Ding-dong!

Tang Yu shoved the phone into his pocket and climbed up to the sixth floor. By the time he got there, he was panting, unsure if it was from exhaustion or anger.

When he arrived at the door of Room 623, Tang Yu took out his key and opened the door. A rich, cold fragrance surged toward him. The curtains on the balcony were tightly drawn, and a faint candlelight flickered in the dim dorm room.

Two silhouettes appeared on the white curtain.

Tang Yu wasn’t sure if it was just his imagination, but the shadows looked even more realistic—like there were actually people standing there.

The scene from last night’s nightmare flashed before him, and a sudden sense of panic crept up. He called out instinctively, “Senior.”

“What is it?” Li Sheng’s voice was as indifferent as ever.

“…Nothing, just… our dorm smells really nice,” Tang Yu sniffed. He’d never had a roommate who liked perfume this much. But to be fair, the scent wasn’t unpleasant.

Li Sheng didn’t respond.

Tang Yu sat down on his chair. The unread messages from Shen Junxing didn’t even need to be opened—they popped up directly on the phone screen:

“I heard that Li Sheng has a lot of secrets on the forum.”

The forum—again with the forum.

Tang Yu’s right eyelid twitched. He couldn’t help but think of that student from the laundry room this morning.

That student might get worked up over pointless gossip, but Shen Junxing was never like that.

Strangely, an indescribable, creeping fear slowly wrapped around Tang Yu like curling smoke. The cold fragrance in the air seemed to seep into his clothes and skin.

Tang Yu opened the forum and searched with the keywords “Li” and “623.” The only result was the same gossip love-thread he’d seen before.

He clicked on it again and read through the familiar content. This time, because he knew Shen Junxing wouldn’t joke about something like this, he patiently scrolled down, carefully reading every messy comment.

But… there really didn’t seem to be anything special—just the usual rumors.

Was this the secret Shen Junxing meant?

Frowning, Tang Yu clicked on a folded sub-thread. Probably due to poor dorm Wi-Fi, the page returned a 404.

He refreshed the page, but the forum seemed to lag—then suddenly, it jumped back to the forum search bar.

In the next second, Tang Yu’s breath caught.

This time, instead of the old gossip thread, countless unfamiliar posts filled the page—densely packed and all with the same title:

#Li Sheng is dead#

The post dates were from three years ago.