Chapter 8: Night Wolf

“Fan, you returned triumphant today. You always pick the right side when teams are chosen—not quite your usual style,” Li Peijun joked as he nursed his Wise Fool beer, which had lasted him all day without nearing the bottom.

“Hmm, it’s all right. Luck is also a sign of skill,” Chen Fan replied. He couldn’t explain why, but today his intuition was unexpectedly sharp. Except for losing one round as a villager to a first-night kill, every other game had been remarkably brilliant. With an impressive record of six wins and one loss, Chen Fan finally escaped the bottom pages of the leaderboard.

Li Peijun teased, “Your speeches are still as lousy as ever, but you’re not as clueless as everyone says. In the last round, I followed your lead without thinking—whoever you called a wolf, I voted out.”

Chen Fan shot him a disdainful glance and retorted, “You always speak in that casual, careless way, whether you’re playing as a god or a villager. It’s easy for you to coast right out of the game.”

Li Peijun shrugged. “Can’t help it. What’s there to say as a villager? If you pick a side, you’re marked as an aggressive wolf; if you coast, you’re marked as a passive wolf. Even if you’re right, they say you’re a reverse wolf. It’s so frustrating, I’d rather just die early and get it over with.”

The two walked out of the club, the sunset already casting its glow. The frenzy of the game made them lose all sense of time. Aside from the snacks they'd nibbled while spectating, Chen Fan hadn't even eaten lunch.

“How about KFC across the street? Let’s grab a family bucket and fill up. I want to treat myself,” Li Peijun pointed at the restaurant opposite, his stomach growling.

Chen Fan felt a bit embarrassed—not because he wasn't hungry, but because he was short on money.

“How about some wontons from the Sha County place? No need to splurge. Fried chicken isn’t even nutritious.”

Li Peijun squinted at him and chuckled, “Since you used to let me copy your homework, I’ll treat you this time. I heard there’s a new sundae—I haven’t tried it yet.”

“Such a bourgeois lifestyle. Are you sure your little treasury can handle it?” Despite his words, Chen Fan had already crossed the street with him. The familiar red sign with the kindly old man’s smile felt especially welcoming.

“There’s nothing to worry about. I have plenty of pocket money, and I made some extra over the summer playing games. It’s just entertainment, but if I can earn a bit on the side, all the better,” Li Peijun said as he pulled out his phone. “It’s that mobile game I recommended last time. Lots of people are playing it now—if you’re good, you can make a hundred or two a day.”

Chen Fan leaned in. Li Peijun had mentioned this game before, and though Chen Fan had pretended to reject it, he’d secretly tried it out. But his clumsy fingers couldn’t even handle the basic AI matches, so he gave up.

“School’s starting soon. Forget it,” Chen Fan thought to himself. Other than studying, he didn’t seem to have any skills worth showing off. He was also quiet and introverted, and—crucially—vain. He’d never even had a girlfriend.

Chen Fan still remembered chatting with his crush back in middle school, managing to make the girl cry. Afterwards, his classmates dubbed him the Heartless Philosopher for his infamous conversational skills.

“You sure you can handle all that food?” Chen Fan eyed the table littered with scraps, watching Li Peijun devour his meal, and asked with concern.

Li Peijun stacked two empty ice cream cones, grabbed another piece of chicken, and took a big bite. “You’re so slow with food—makes me wonder what you’re living for. When you’ve got spare cash, you can feast on delicacies every day without repeating a dish.”

Chen Fan watched the skinny bamboo stick across from him and shoved a few more fries into his mouth.

...

“Chen Fan, don’t come home so late anymore. You’re about to start university; it’s time to settle down,” his mother nagged as soon as he walked in.

“Got it, Mom. Studies come first,” Chen Fan nodded, giving his usual response.

He locked himself in his bedroom. He’d never been rebellious; from a young age, he’d always obeyed his parents, even letting them choose his university for him.

He often felt life was somewhat incomplete, but he didn’t want to stir things up. Sometimes, following the routine seemed just fine.

Bored, Chen Fan unconsciously picked up his Werewolf cards, flipping through them one by one.

“The craftsmanship is so realistic; every character on the identity cards looks alive,” he murmured, his gaze pausing.

“Why is the Seer card blank? Was it not printed?” He checked the other cards—only the Seer was empty.

“What a shame. Such a good set, but with this flaw. Well, it was free anyway. I’ll make do,” Chen Fan sighed and tidied up the scattered cards.

After midnight, as dusk deepened, a faint glow separated from Chen Fan’s body, attaching itself to the cards. The previously blank Seer card regained its original illustration.

Host: Chen Fan
Role: Werewolf
Ability: Exceptionally strong nocturnal activity
Duration: 24 hours, refreshed daily at midnight

Note: Sleep to get up and party

The illustration on the Werewolf card first dissolved into powder, then transformed into a streak of azure light, reintegrating into Chen Fan’s body.

“I’m targeting Number 5—he’s definitely a solid wolf,” Chen Fan declared, waving his fists and sitting bolt upright, sleep forgotten.

“Damn, so it was a dream. Now I play Werewolf by day, and by night I play it in my dreams. I’m getting obsessed,” he muttered, glancing out at the dim sky, trying to estimate the hour—probably four or five in the morning.

He wasn’t sleepy, so he must have rested enough. Chen Fan washed his face, planning to kill some time on his phone, knowing the club wouldn’t open for hours.

“Wait, it’s only midnight?” He glanced at the screen and realized something was wrong—he’d only slept for less than three hours.

He decisively pulled the covers back over himself, tossing and turning, but eventually gave up and pushed them aside.

“Did I win too much today? I’m so wired I can’t close my eyes,” he thought, touching his heart. It wasn’t excitement, nor insomnia, nor any surge of emotion.

“Could I have some rare psychological disorder that keeps me from sleeping, leading to slow death?” he wondered, letting his imagination run wild.

Not only was he wide awake, but he could see everything around him clearly, despite the dim light, as if it were daytime.

“Did I wake up with super sight?” He rubbed his eyes, confirming it was no illusion, then pulled aside the curtains—he could see every detail in the distant attic.

“A sniper’s vision? The range is insane, and I can even focus at will,” he marveled, slapping himself twice to check if it was just another layer of dream.

Puzzled, Chen Fan’s gaze fell on the stack of Werewolf cards, sensing something unusual. He turned on the lamp and spread the identity cards out.

The once blank Seer card now bore a vivid illustration—a hooded prophet holding a crystal ball, as lifelike as the other cards.

Chen Fan also noticed that the Werewolf card was now blank.