Tòumíng's eyes snapped open. Awareness hit him like cold water, sudden and disorienting. He was standing. Why was he standing? He should be dead, should still be collapsed on the tunnel floor, bleeding out from a dozen different wounds.
His ribs screamed at him, the broken one grinding against something with each breath. The pain was immediate and overwhelming, cutting through the confusion and dragging his focus to the present moment.
"FUCK! THE HELL HAPPENED TO ME!?"
The words ripped out of his throat, echoing off the tunnel walls. He grabbed at his side, fingers finding torn fabric and dried blood but no fresh bleeding. His legs, which should have been useless masses of destroyed tissue, somehow held his weight. Everything hurt, but in a distant way, like the pain was happening to someone else and he was just observing it.
Cupid's voice in his chest was quiet. Unusually quiet. The constant commentary, the sarcasm, the running observations, all of it just... absent.
"Cupid?" Tòumíng looked around the tunnel, taking in the disturbed stone dust, the scattered tools, the complete absence of other people. "What happened? Where is everyone?"
Silence stretched for a long moment. Then, finally, Cupid spoke. His voice was subdued, almost hesitant.
"You found it. The quartz vein. Massive one, easily fifty kilos worth of premium rose quartz. Maybe more. It was perfect, Tòumíng. Flawless crystals, the kind that collectors pay fortunes for."
Tòumíng's heart, their heart, beat faster. Fifty kilos. That was millions of yuan. Tens of millions. Enough to pay off every debt, every loan shark, every collector. Enough to be free.
"But you passed out before you could mine any of it. Blood loss, exhaustion, the head trauma. Your body just gave up."
The excitement dimmed slightly. Right. He'd been dying. Had died, maybe. The details were fuzzy, lost in a haze of pain and darkness.
"Then some jackasses showed up. They saw you on the ground, saw the vein, and decided the quartz was more valuable than your life. Started a whole riot. People trampling each other to get at it, stealing chunks, fighting over pieces." Cupid paused, and when he continued his voice was strained. "Most of them got away. But seven stayed behind. Seven who kept mining, kept stealing, kept stepping on you like you were just another piece of worthless rock."
Something cold settled in Tòumíng's stomach. "What happened to them?"
"You killed them."
The words hung in the air, simple and devastating. Tòumíng stared at the empty tunnel, at the space where seven people should have been but weren't.
"What... no. Nonononono." He spun in a circle, searching for bodies, for blood, for any evidence of what Cupid was describing. Nothing. Just empty space and disturbed dust. "How did I... I was passed out, I was dead, how could I have—"
"It's complicated. There's a new skill, a new system mechanic that activated when you died. I got temporary control of your body and I... I made a choice. A bad choice, probably. I used a skill called True Death and when I touched them they just... ceased to exist. Completely. Like they'd never been there at all."
Tòumíng's mind raced, trying to process this. He'd killed seven people. Seven people with families, with lives, with their own debts and struggles and reasons for being desperate enough to riot over stolen quartz.
"I'm sorry." Cupid's voice cracked slightly. "I know this is a lot to take in. I know killing people, even people who wronged you, even in self-defense or protection, it's traumatic. It changes you. The guilt, the nightmares, the way it follows you. I shouldn't have chosen that skill. I should have picked something defensive, something that would have just gotten us out of there safely. But I was angry and I wanted them to suffer and now you have to live with what I did in your body and I'm sorry, I'm so fucking sorry."
Tòumíng stood there, his broken jaw hanging slightly open, his eyes wide. The silence stretched.
Then: "Wait. So they took my quartz? The quartz I found? My fifty kilos of premium rose quartz that I literally died mining for?"
Cupid hesitated. "Yeah. That's... that's what I'm saying. When I used True Death, it erased them completely. And apparently it counted their stolen quartz as part of them, so that disappeared too. Ninety percent of the vein that had been harvested is just gone. I fucked up. I prioritized revenge over securing the—"
"MANNNN FUCK THEM KIDS!"
The shout echoed through the tunnel, bouncing off walls and disappearing into darkness. Cupid went silent, clearly not expecting that reaction.
"My quartz! They stole MY quartz! The quartz I found! The quartz I broke my fucking body mining for!" Tòumíng grabbed his head with both hands, ignoring the pain the gesture caused. "Do you know what fifty kilos of rose quartz is worth? Do you have any concept of how much money that is? I could have paid off everything. EVERYTHING. And now it's just gone because some greedy bastards decided my corpse was free real estate!"
"I... you're not upset about the killing?"
"What? No! Fuck those guys! They robbed me! They trampled me! They saw me dying and decided quartz was more important! If anything, I'm mad you only got seven of them!" Tòumíng kicked at a piece of rubble, sending it skittering across the tunnel floor. "They had wives and kids? Great! Their wives and kids can join the fucking club of people drowning in generational debt! See how they like it!"
Cupid was quiet for a moment, processing this. "So you're not... traumatized? Guilty? Experiencing any normal human emotional response to having killed seven people?"
"I'm experiencing rage about losing NINETY PERCENT OF MY QUARTZ."
"That's... actually that's better than PTSD, I guess. Morally questionable, but psychologically healthier."
Tòumíng turned toward the vein, examining what remained. It was still massive, still valuable, but significantly diminished from what it had been. Chunks were missing where the rioters had torn into it, empty spaces like missing teeth in a once-perfect smile.
"Can we mine what's left? Or did your death skill fuck that up too?"
"I don't know. The skill expired a few minutes ago, right before you woke up. Try breaking off a piece and see if it stays solid this time."
Tòumíng grabbed his pickaxe from where it had fallen, the handle familiar and grounding in his hands. He raised it, aimed for a promising section of crystal, and swung.
The chunk broke free cleanly, falling to the tunnel floor with a satisfying clink. It didn't disappear. Didn't fade or cease to exist. Just sat there, solid and real and worth actual money.
"Yes!" Tòumíng dropped to his knees, cradling the piece like it was made of gold instead of quartz. "Okay. Okay, we can work with this. We can still salvage this. It's not fifty kilos but it's something."
"Better hurry. You've been down here for over six hours. Someone's going to come looking eventually."
Tòumíng nodded and raised the pickaxe again, aiming for another section. As he did, a sound echoed down the shaft. Distant but growing closer. The rattle and squeak of mining carts on rails, multiple sets, moving fast.
"Shit." Cupid's voice was sharp. "That's probably security. Or your boss. Or both. You need to hide what you've got."
"Hide it where? This tunnel is empty!"
"I don't know, get creative! Between your legs, in your pants, I don't care! Just don't let them see it!"
Tòumíng looked at the five-pound chunk of rose quartz in his hands, then at his blood-stained coveralls. The fabric was loose, torn in places, held up by a belt that had seen better days.
"You've got to be kidding me."
"Do you want to keep it or not?"
The cart sounds were getting louder. Multiple voices now, shouting to each other, probably coordinating their descent into the lower levels.
Tòumíng groaned, stood up, and unfastened his belt. He positioned the chunk of quartz against his inner thigh, then carefully threaded it up and secured it in his pants, adjusting until it sat wedged between his legs in a way that was extremely uncomfortable but not immediately visible through the fabric.
"This is humiliating."
"This is survival. Now act natural."
"Natural? I have a rock the size of a fist shoved in my pants and I look like I've been beaten to death and then beaten again for good measure."
"Then act traumatized. Shouldn't be hard considering you technically died today."
The cart sounds were very close now, just around the bend in the shaft. Voices clearer. One of them sounded like Zhāng Wěi, his boss, speaking in rapid, agitated tones.
Tòumíng stood in the tunnel, a five-pound piece of stolen rose quartz hidden in his pants, surrounded by evidence of a riot and the ghostly absence of seven people who'd ceased to exist, waiting for whatever came next.