Meta 01: Come Over Here If You Dare

In her three years on the job, Lin Zhu had seen off 873 people.

Today marked the eight hundred and seventy-fourth.

The old lady was ninety-six, passed away peacefully, a joyful funeral. The family wept with genuine feeling; Lin Zhu stood before the mourning hall, dressed in a navy-blue uniform, her expression solemn, her voice low and steady. “On the road to the Yellow Springs, there’s no distinction between young and old, but at your age, you’re entitled to the VIP lane.”

The family’s wailing paused.

Lin Zhu continued, her tone measured and unhurried, “The journey to the Western Paradise is a long one. I’ll recite a rebirth mantra for you—take the expressway, don’t go by the national road, it’s always jammed over there.”

The family exchanged bewildered glances.

Lin Zhu closed her eyes, pressing her palms together. “You’ve accumulated virtue all your life; in the next, may you be born into a good family. And if there are no open slots for reincarnation, send us a dream, and we’ll burn you a household registration for the Metaverse—there’s no purchase limit over there.”

The family: “……”

Lin Zhu finished the last line, bowed, and withdrew.

Behind her came the sound of hushed whispers. “Is this… a new service at the funeral home? Rather unique, isn’t it?”

Lin Zhu pretended not to hear.

In her line of work, the principle was “see people off all the way to the West, serve you to satisfaction.” The old lady had loved keeping up with trends while alive—she’d burned seven or eight Metaverse household books for her, who knew which one might come in handy.

But it didn’t matter; if it didn’t, there’d be no complaints.

Lin Zhu yawned, strolling lazily toward the changing room. Today’s farewell ceremony had worn her out; she’d need a foot soak when she got home. Her roommate said there’d be braised pork for dinner, so she’d better head back early. The thought had barely formed in her mind when, suddenly, everything went black, as if someone had flipped a switch—her entire world vanished with a “snap.”

When she opened her eyes again—

She was met with a landscape scorched black, as if wildfires had burned for three days and nights, even the stones split open, with dark red light seeping from the cracks. The air was thick with a stench so acrid it was as if ten thousand tons of rotting fish and shrimp had been left to bake under the sun for a month.

Lin Zhu gagged, vomiting up all the braised pork she’d eaten last week.

It took her a while to stop, only to squint up and catch a glimpse of the sky… not a hint of blue, only a sickly orange-red, the kind that seemed terminally ill, so unsettling it made her heart pound, as eerie as the backdrop of a cheap sci-fi film.

Lin Zhu froze where she stood, her mind a complete blank.

Where was this?

Where the hell was this?

Could it be that the old lady really wasn’t satisfied and managed to convince King Yama to have her die a miserable death here as revenge?

A roar sounded in the distance, making her legs start to tremble. She could feel her neck creaking stiffly backward like an oil-starved, abandoned machine. A chill shot up her throat, her eyes nearly splitting.

In the distance was a swarm of insects blotting out the sky, like a locust plague, an army pressing down, each the size of a cow, six-legged, streamlined bodies, with two enormous compound eyes atop their heads.

Whatever they were fighting over, it didn’t matter. The unfortunate part was, one of the insects spotted her and started running this way. It ran, its companions followed, and at their speed, hundreds of meters would be covered in a blink. Forget fighting—just being trampled would turn her into a smear of flesh.

Move, legs, run, run!

Lin Zhu heard her own desperate inner scream, but she couldn’t move. She opened her mouth, wanting to scream, but her throat felt as if someone was strangling it—no sound came out. It was over, it was over, she was going to report to King Yama. Gritting her teeth, she braced herself…

【Ding——】

A sound rang out in her mind.

Lin Zhu jumped in fright, landing on her butt.

【Detected host in near-death state, activation conditions met.】

【System activating… Activation successful.】

【Welcome to the “Cross-Spacetime High-Dimensional Live Broadcast System—Homeland Stream.”】

【Kind reminder: The system only provides streaming services, and does not offer any form of combat support, material aid, or escape assistance.】

Lin Zhu: “……?”

Immediately, a translucent screen appeared before her eyes.

The screen was a familiar streaming interface, the camera pointed at the scorched earth behind her. At the bottom, a line of small text read: 【Viewers: 5】.

The barrage of comments began to scroll.

【???】

【What the hell is this? Why am I getting pushed this in the middle of the night?】

【Where is this streamer filming? The background looks pretty real—holy crap, look at all those bugs.】

Lin Zhu howled, “Watch the excitement later—help me out, kill the bugs, kill the bugs, kill the bugs—!”

The insects drew closer.

Twenty meters.

Ten meters.

Five meters…

The comments scrolled wildly.

【Damn, these bugs look just like my ex—absolutely disgusting】

【Special effects, right? This has to be special effects, right?】

【Forget fighting, streamer, just run!!】

【Run? Go up and chat with it a bit】

【Yeah, talk it to death, kill it with your beautiful spirit】

Lin Zhu: “……”

No time to curse the viewers, the insect was right in front of her now. She could see its mouthparts clearly—layered, barbed, opening and closing, looking like it would hurt to be bitten.

A thought suddenly flashed through Lin Zhu’s mind: If she died here, no one would collect her body. No one would recite the rebirth mantra for her. No one would burn her a Metaverse household registration. That wouldn’t do. In three years on the job, her greatest skill was seeing people off. Now it was her turn—she couldn’t go out like a fool.

Not ugly!!

If she had to go, she’d go out fighting. She shot to her feet—ah-da!—striking a Bruce Lee pose, voice cracking, fists and feet flying… at the empty air.

What kind of creature was this?

She’d never seen anything like it.

The insect cocked its head, studying her.

She really had lost her mind, words tumbling out, arms flailing, feet sliding as she launched into a wild, meteor-punching frenzy.

Ah-da-da—!

Lin Zhu shouted as she fought, “Come on! Come on, then!”

The insect seemed to understand and took a step forward.

She nearly collapsed. “Spirits of heaven and earth, ghosts and monsters, show yourselves—no, wait, you go away, if you don’t I’ll start chanting! I’m really good at chanting! I can bring the dead back to life and send the living to the grave, do you believe me?! Do you? I’m asking, do you?!”

The insect stopped.

The comments lost it.

【Hahahahahaha, I’m dying, what is this? Exorcising bugs with a shaman dance?】

【No, it really looks like the streamer scared it!】

【While it’s stunned, go touch its head! I want to see what it feels like!】

【Yeah, go on, don’t just jump by yourself, make it jump with you! Get it to do tai chi!】

【You people are evil, hahaha, but I want to see it too】

Lin Zhu: “……”

Touch an insect? Was that something a sane person would do? Still, it bought her some time—immoral, but effective.

She stayed still.

The insect stayed still.

One human, one bug, staring each other down.

Three seconds.

Five seconds.

Ten seconds.

Suddenly, she bolted, wind howling in her ears as she ran, the heavy thud of the insect’s pursuit behind her. She didn’t dare look back, just gritted her teeth and sprinted.

The comments rolled by, wicked as ever:

【Streamer, why are you running? If you run, they’ll run too—are you the pace-setter?】

The insect snapped its mouthparts open with a click, lunging for her head. The comments erupted in alarm. Just as those barbed jaws came within five centimeters of her eyeball—

A white light crashed down from the sky.

It came with a sonic boom and a searing wave, tearing the night in two. The white light slammed down between her and the insect, sending out a shockwave that tossed Lin Zhu aside, rolling her three times over.

When she finally got up, hair a mess like a chicken’s nest, face covered in dust, the insects were already in pieces, green slime sizzling and smoking on the ground.

Dust filled the air.

A silver-white mech knelt on one knee, the barrel on its mechanical arm still glowing red. The cockpit opened, and someone jumped straight down from five stories up.

He strode through the smoke against the light, broad-shouldered and long-legged, his combat suit outlining smooth, muscular lines. His cold, pale face was expressionless, his sharp brows and eyes as if carved by a knife. The way he looked at her was as if she were an annoying little mutt.

The comments were silent for a second.

Then they exploded.

【Holy crap holy crap holy crap holy crap holy crap】

【So damn handsome so damn handsome so damn handsome】

【Is it possible for a human to have a face like that】

【Streamer, don’t move, let me take a screenshot】

【I give this entrance 101 out of 100, not afraid he’ll get cocky】

Lin Zhu looked up at him, dazed like a lovesick fool.

If this guy worked at our funeral home, we’d save half the foundation on corpse makeup.

He spoke, but it was in a language she didn’t understand, his voice low, with a hint of huskiness.

Lin Zhu blinked. “…I don’t understand.”

He paused, switched to another language. She said, “Still don’t understand.”

He frowned, took a palm-sized device from his waist, pressed a button, and spoke into it again.

The device emitted a mechanical, electronic voice. “Federation Standard. Who are you? Why are you here? Why are you unprotected?”

This time, she understood.

Lin Zhu wanted to live, wanted to ride her little electric heater home for braised pork—the windscreen on her heater was brand new, after all—so she ignored the barrage urging her to ask his age, whether he had a girlfriend, to get his WeChat, to rush up and make a move. She answered honestly, “My name is Lin Zhu, I work at a funeral home on Earth,”—she figured this wasn’t Earth, so she had to stress her homeland—“May I ask, where is this? How should I address you…”

The barrage got excited, egging her on to keep asking, but she thought it best not to push her luck—she hadn’t even gotten close enough to push it anyway.

The man spoke into the device again, and it translated for her. “My name is Rhine. This is Federation Seventh Star Region, Garrison Zone, code B-791. As for the Earth you mentioned—distance incalculable.”

Lin Zhu’s heart gave a jolt.

Incalculable? Did that mean… she might never get back?

She felt a pang, her eyes growing damp, but then she thought, though the man seemed cold, he answered her questions and had saved her life—he must be a good person. And look at his mech… silver-white, much cleaner than the funeral home’s hearse back home. A man who liked cleanliness.

So she pointed at the mech behind him. “That thing of yours—can I go up and have a look?” Once up, she wasn’t coming down—her life came first!

The man looked down at her, his expression unchanged.

In the distance, the insect swarm still surged, explosions rumbling, the orange-red sky boiling like a cauldron of blood. Lin Zhu looked up at this man who called himself Rhine, waiting for the cold-faced god of death to reply.

The comments went wild:

【Streamer, you really aren’t afraid of death, daring to make requests】

【I admire your guts—no wonder you work at a funeral home】

【Hurry up! Handsome guy, say yes, I want to see the inside of the mech!】

【Wicked viewers, no matter how far, we’ll follow—even if we die, we’ll burn you the comments from the other side】