Chapter 201: "Mom, I Don’t Want to Tell the Difference

Yu Xian thought he had misread it. He widened his eyes, double-checking the four-digit number on the screen.

“How… how is this possible?” he gasped, his face full of disbelief.

How many people even lived in this building? Even if he factored in extreme cases like Zhang Yang and his “device matrix,” it was impossible to find 3,000 active nodes in the South District Dormitory. Yu Xian began to suspect that Rabbit Hole’s programming had glitched.

“Is there a bug in the system? Or is someone using virtual machines to farm nodes?” His first reaction was that the data had to be anomalous.

“Old Yu, there’s no bug, and nobody’s farming!” Shi Zuozhou said excitedly. “Before, when our node count was low, the different areas were like isolated islands. This building couldn’t connect to that building, and the South District couldn’t connect to the East District. But things are different now!”

His eyes shone brightly. “With the launch of our Carrot Points, we’re getting more and more nodes. Old Yu, these aren’t just individual local area networks anymore!”

“Are you saying… the network has reached critical mass?” Yu Xian swallowed hard, asking in a daze.

“Exactly! I ran some tests this afternoon. With this kind of node density, we can already link all the different sectors of the campus together, even the nearby staff residential areas! It’s all connected into a massive web that covers the entire school!” Shi Zuozhou couldn’t contain his excitement. “These 3,000 nodes don’t just belong to this building… they belong to the entirety of JCU!”

“Three thousand… covering the whole school?” Yu Xian stared at the swirling rain dancing beneath the streetlights, an indescribable sense of shock welling up in his heart.

The individual burrows dug out by those little rabbits had quietly interconnected, weaving into a colossal underground network that spanned all of JCU. This meant the infrastructure had been successfully laid down. The roads were built; the next question was what kind of cars they would drive on them.

“Old Shi,” Yu Xian took a deep breath and asked, sounding as casual as possible. “Say, if that audio file allowed us to not only dream by ourselves but also play multiplayer with others, how do you think we should design it to make it fun?”

Shi Zuozhou’s fingers abruptly stopped fiddling with his wristband. He looked up, the excitement in his eyes fading slightly as he stared intently at Yu Xian. “What do you mean… multiplayer? Did Wen Xiao’s side make a new breakthrough?”

Yu Xian paused. Yang Yiyi hiding in his apartment was purely a coincidence born out of an emergency. With only a week left until the security logs were overwritten, he wasn’t worried about Shi Zuozhou leaking the secret if he told him. However, it involved his senior’s privacy; without discussing it with her first, he shouldn’t make that decision for her.

“You could say that,” Yu Xian nodded, keeping his words vague. “But it’s still in the theoretical verification stage. It’s a long story. I’ll find a time later to explain it to you properly, from the very beginning.”

Shi Zuozhou nodded thoughtfully and didn’t press the issue, only saying, “Alright, Old Yu, say no more. I trust you, and you can trust me too.”

He then steered the conversation back to Yu Xian’s question. “As for what you just said about multiplayer dreaming… that depends on the scale of the player base. If it’s a two-player co-op,” Shi Zuozhou held up two fingers, thinking aloud, “I think the most fitting genre would be a heavy cooperative puzzle-solving adventure.”

“Like what?”

“Like *It Takes Two*, or *Little Nightmares*,” Shi Zuozhou rattled off effortlessly. “In this mode, two people have to work as one, coordinating closely to rely on each other and escape from a massive world. For example, one person steps on a switch while the other jumps across; or like in *It Takes Two*, you’re the hammer and I’m the nail, you’re the lock and I’m the key—neither can succeed without the other.”

Yu Xian nodded. It sounded very reasonable. Mentally taking notes, he said, “Indeed, in a highly immersive environment like a dream, this sense of ‘depending on each other for survival’ would be infinitely magnified. It would absolutely be the ultimate tool for bringing people closer together…”

“Though, it could also turn into the ultimate tool for arguments and breakups, haha,” Shi Zuozhou added after a brief silence, perhaps recalling some painful past experience.

“What if it’s four people? Or a squad-sized group, where you can play multiplayer within a certain range?” Yu Xian pressed.

“Four people… let me think.” Shi Zuozhou stared out into the pitch-black night, as if suddenly struck by inspiration. “For four people, we should make it like *Deadly Company* or *Phobia of Ghosts*!”

He gestured animatedly as he described his vision. “We could add some horror elements, maybe a bit of Cthulhu-style exploration. Think about it—dreams are inherently bizarre and fantastical. Imagine the four of us standing back-to-back, holding what little pitiful gear we have, exploring unknown ruins in the dark, gathering resources, hiding from monsters… That heart-pounding sensation, combined with teammates throwing each other under the bus and screaming, would absolutely be ten thousand times more thrilling than a solo horror movie!”

Yu Xian pictured the escape room he had played today with his cousin, Wen Yu, and Wen Xiao. It did indeed have a great atmosphere. This also perfectly aligned with the tastes of today’s youth: seeking thrills while sticking together for comfort. It was suitable for small-scale socialization among acquaintances, highly safe, and easy to manage.

“And what if… there were even more people? Like hundreds, or even thousands online at the same time? With no distance limitations?”

Shi Zuozhou froze. He turned his head and stared blankly at Yu Xian. “Old Yu, are you… being serious?”

Yu Xian nodded in silent confirmation. Shi Zuozhou suddenly grabbed Yu Xian’s shoulders. He pointed down at the rain-swept campus below, as if it were no longer made of academic buildings and dormitories, but was instead a vast, boundless fantasy continent.