Chapter 79: Gathering Courage

After the appreciation video for "Killing Lives" was released, the business collaboration video with Lanwa House was still in post-production, leaving Bai Renzong suddenly with plenty of free time.

With two consecutive food videos and one film review already published, the topic for the next video was certainly going to be a game review.

But...

“I don’t have any good material,” Bai Renzong sighed inwardly.

It wasn’t that he didn’t have any games stashed away—it was just that their quality wasn’t quite up to par. The upcoming video would be a real attention-grabber: Yang Hua’s dessert, "Heart of the Prairie," was visually stunning, and the culinary showdown between him and Han Jiayi added drama. Bai Renzong was also confident in his own script for the video, convinced it would go viral.

So the quality of this game review had to reach a similar high, or else viewers would experience a jarring drop and feel that his content had suddenly worsened.

Yet none of the games he had at hand could deliver that kind of wow factor.

“Well, I’ll think about it. There are still a few days left,” Bai Renzong muttered, troubled.

After breakfast, he went to the gym for a boxing lesson and returned home exhausted.

Just like before, Han Jiayi made him a sandwich for lunch.

Bai Renzong took a bite. The bread had been toasted in a pan, carrying the fragrance of wheat. The filling was nothing fancy—just egg, ham, and lettuce—but the familiar taste had already become a habit for him.

It was a bit like... the taste of home.

As he ate, he sat in front of his computer, lost in thought.

Although there were many new games this year, including some excellent ones, other creators had already covered them to death. The audience had seen everything—from story breakdowns to guides to highlight reels—so it would be hard for him to produce something unique.

It would be best to choose a high-quality, relatively niche game.

He opened the Sheam platform, preparing to browse the store for something worthwhile.

Suddenly, his eye caught a particular game.

He knew this game, and it fit his requirements perfectly. But he’d never played it.

There was a deeper reason for that: this genre just wasn’t his cup of tea.

...

“I’m back, Bai the Grump!” Han Jiayi hummed a cheerful tune as she opened the door and started changing her shoes.

But waiting at the stairway today wasn’t just Bai Renzong—Wang Bei was there as well.

“Hey, Xiaobei?” Han Jiayi raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t you go home to have dinner with your parents?”

“I did! After I ate, Old Bai dragged me over,” Wang Bei replied. “He said we’re doing a review on a game together.”

“All three of us?” Han Jiayi asked in surprise, rolling up her sleeves. “I’ll go make dinner then.”

After their meal, the three of them gathered once again in Bai Renzong’s room.

“What kind of game needs all three of us for a review?” Han Jiayi muttered under her breath.

Bai Renzong sat down in front of the computer, opened a game, and typed as he narrated, “Hello everyone, today I’ll be reviewing a game called ‘Dark Forest’...”

“When it comes to horror games and movies, Old Bai has a rule of thumb: if a horror work relies solely on jump scares, then it’s bound to be a bad one. But today, I want to introduce a Lovecraftian game—a top-down, niche horror game that relies purely on atmosphere to create fear...”

At this point, Bai Renzong turned to Han Jiayi and Wang Bei. “Ready to start?”

“So that’s why! You’re afraid, so you called us to keep you company!” Han Jiayi laughed, covering her mouth.

“Me? Afraid? Ha!” Bai Renzong scoffed, but then said blandly, “Well, maybe a little.”

Han Jiayi burst into giggles, then sighed. “Fine, fine. I’ll stay with you.”

Rolling his eyes, Bai Renzong started the game.

Fifteen minutes later, Wang Bei watched the two of them: Bai Renzong was glued to the screen, dead serious, while Han Jiayi clung to the back of his chair, her head barely peeking out, both of them looking utterly terrified.

“Hmm? An idea...” Wang Bei arched an eyebrow and quietly pulled out a camera.

Bai Renzong’s character crept through the forest. Suddenly, Han Jiayi grabbed his shoulder.

“Look there! A woman in white is dancing!” Han Jiayi’s beautiful eyes widened in fear.

“Where? Are you kidding me? Don’t try to scare me!” Bai Renzong asked nervously.

“It’s true! Right there!” Han Jiayi patted his shoulder. “Turn around!”

“Are you crazy? You want me to go toward the monster?” Bai Renzong retorted.

“Isn’t it scarier not knowing where it is?” Han Jiayi pointed at the screen.

But this game had a “field of view” mechanic—the character could only see about a hundred and twenty degrees in front. When Bai Renzong turned his character, the white-veiled woman spinning in place suddenly appeared before him.

“Ah—!” Han Jiayi screamed, ducking behind Bai Renzong. “Run! Hurry!”

“Stop shrieking, you’ll scare me to death!” Bai Renzong frantically made his character flee to a small house, only to find the door locked with a code.

“Look! There’s an invitation by the door—the password’s on it!” Han Jiayi gestured wildly.

“I know!” Bai Renzong maneuvered his character into the house, finally letting out a sigh of relief.

But then came a heavy knocking—thud, thud—from ahead. Bai Renzong moved closer, only to see a man repeatedly slamming his head on a table: “We... have been... waiting... for you...”

The scene, along with the eerie art and the rotting food on the table, sent chills down their spines.

Bai Renzong couldn’t be bothered with the groom, quickly slipping past him and into the forest behind the house.

But the bride in white refused to let up, appearing again and again in front of him no matter which way he turned.

After another tense sequence, the monster finally revealed itself—the bride in white transformed into a grotesque creature, pounding furiously on the door.

“Run! Why are you just standing there?” Han Jiayi shook Bai Renzong’s shoulder.

“Run? Forget that! I’m taking her down!” Bai Renzong snapped, charging in for a head-on fight.

But after the battle, the white-veiled woman vanished without a trace.

He looked around. Nothing. It was as if everything had been a hallucination.

...

The room fell silent.

“That’s... that’s all for today’s recording,” Bai Renzong cleared his throat, trying to sound calm. “It’s a review, after all—no need to do a full playthrough.”

“Mm.” Han Jiayi pursed her lips and nodded, then turned to Wang Bei with a smile. “Xiaobei, are you staying over tonight?”

“Of course not, I’ll head home. It’s not far anyway,” Wang Bei replied, puzzled.

Han Jiayi glanced at Bai Renzong, and suddenly the atmosphere in the room grew subtly charged...