Chapter 141: Are the Risks of Meeting Online Friends This High Nowadays?

Chapter 141: Are the Risks of Meeting Online Friends This High Nowadays?

"Winter vacation just ended, and it's still winter!"

"It's freezing outside. Even in the south, when the biting wind blows, even the most stubborn men will slap on some cheap lotion. Otherwise, their faces, raw as if scraped by a knife, will punish them."

"If gruff grown men are like this, imagine delicate-skinned children. Parents chase after them daily, applying cream on schedule."

"Even women who don’t care about beauty, dismiss grooming as trivial, or even find it bothersome will quietly pull out their skincare products—even if it’s just a basic bottle of 'Baby Cream.' After all, if they don’t apply it, a little redness and peeling might not bother them if they’re indifferent to appearances and pretend not to notice."

"But the accompanying dryness, itchiness, and rashes won’t let you ignore them. They’ll constantly remind you of their presence. Unless you want a ruined face, you’ll have to give in."

"Sometimes, the itch can be worse than the pain."

"If even the no-fuss types are like this, let alone the meticulous ones. They might skip makeup, but they’ll never slack on skincare."

"So on the streets, if not everyone, at least eighty percent of people have applied moisturizer."

"This is a normal winter routine—a trivial daily habit. Who’d have thought it could bring about doomsday?"

"Could it be like before, where dry skin was actually a sign of the apocalypse?"

A resident couldn’t help but ask, but the moment he spoke, he realized his mistake.

Last time, skin issues came after the apocalypse. This time, skin problems led to lotion use, which then caused the apocalypse.

One was the effect, the other the cause—clearly different.

But how could slapping on lotion possibly cause the apocalypse?

"I’ve been doing this for decades, applying it every winter," an elderly woman frowned, utterly baffled. "Back in my youth, there weren’t so many flashy brands on the market, and even if there were, I couldn’t afford them. In winter, I’d just buy a jar of snow cream and use it daily."

"All these years, nothing ever happened."

"Or maybe the hidden danger was planted long ago and is only now coming to light?" To be honest, living here and knowing so much, everyone has gotten paranoid. Even the most carefree people have developed a sense of unease. Someone couldn’t help but spiral deeper into suspicion.

"Maybe moisturizers have always been problematic, but no one noticed. After all, we only apply a little each day, so the impact is limited. But over time, it’s accumulated, and now it’s finally causing issues?" The more they thought about it, the more it made sense.

At this point, everyone’s gaze toward their purchased skincare products instantly turned wary. Was this basically slow poison?

So all these years, they’d been paying to suffer, persistently poisoning themselves!

Especially those who splurged on skincare every year—now they felt nothing but heartache. They might as well have been the biggest chumps.

"And it’s not just skincare—other daily essentials too."

"Shampoo, body wash, soap, toothpaste..."

"Perfume, makeup..."

Perfume and makeup could be skipped, and even skincare wasn’t irreplaceable. Worst case, they’d just use a skin repair device every day. The moment skin issues arose, they’d fix them right away. In that case, skipping skincare probably wouldn’t matter.

Even in the past, without skin repair devices, they could always buy some fat from the market, render it into lard. When not using it to mix with rice, applying lard to the skin worked wonders against chapped skin. Plus, rendering lard gave them crispy pork scraps to eat—a total bargain.

But while people could skip grooming, could they skip hygiene?

Not brushing teeth or washing faces for a day or two might be fine, but over time, opening their mouths would release a stench detectable from three meters away. Embarrassing aside, it’d mess up their stomachs.

Cavities, gum recession, periapical inflammation... And without oral hygiene before eating, bacteria would wreak havoc on their digestive systems.

When washing hair and bathing, the body naturally secretes oils, along with dead skin cells and dust, making water alone won’t cut it.

Even washing daily, it barely makes a difference. Not only is it gross, but over time, it will inevitably cause problems—skin keratinization, clogged pores, followed by folliculitis and bacterial infections.

You’ll start reeking too, turning the person into a walking stink bomb.

Moreover, everyone suddenly realized something: even if they could produce these daily necessities using traditional methods as substitutes for modern chemical products, no one could swear the old-school versions were safe.

After all, who the hell knows the real reason why modern chemical products are unusable? Is it the manufacturing process, the ingredients, or perhaps even the cultivation of raw materials that’s flawed?

There are too many possibilities.

Each of these would need to be investigated one by one. After all these years in the dark, figuring it out now won’t be a cakewalk. It would require time, manpower, and various resources. Hopefully, there’s still enough time.

While pondering these matters, everyone reported the situation to higher authorities and kept their ears peeled for news, hoping Sheng Qingquan could find a solution from the novel.

Sheng Qingquan was also anxious. Just as he was about to skip ahead to see what was going on, he spotted a name he knew while flipping through the pages.

"He Shengshi."

By now, he knew the drill—he didn’t need to search nationwide for people with the same name—the "He Shengshi" in the book was probably his old neighbor.

This neighbor was truly old, already eighty this year.

Yet, he hadn’t slowed down with age. He was full of life, and always had a radiant complexion whenever they met, so full of life that Sheng Qingquan often felt that, had he not taken the gene serum, his own physique might not compare.

But now, upon hearing his name, even though he knew this day would come eventually, the old man’s usual healthy flush drained away.

Seeing the old man’s hands begin to tremble, his granddaughter quickly stepped forward to help him sit steadily in a chair before he toppled over.

This stubborn old man, who had always insisted on taking care of himself and refused assistance, didn’t put up his usual fuss this time.

"Maybe it’s not that bad," He Shengshi muttered to himself. "Maybe I bit it in some gruesome way, so the author singled me out as a prime example."

"Or maybe, like that little girl earlier, I’m just in for some embarrassment."

At his age, a little embarrassment wouldn’t matter.

Was it the time as a child when he secretly picked fruit from a neighbor’s tree, only to fall into their pigpen and nearly get eaten alive, howling so hard the neighbor had to bribe him with fruit to shut him up?

Or that summer when women were washing clothes by the river, and while swimming and roughhousing with his childhood friend, his buddy pantsed him in front of everyone?

Or perhaps in his youth, when he first started practicing calligraphy and read about Wang Xizhi’s obsession—writing even while eating, ended up dunking his bun in ink and chowing down.

Back then, he thought, "Who’s Wang Xizhi? The Sage of Calligraphy! If he did it, there must be a reason—maybe drinking ink helps with calligraphy?"

Hadn’t the last person who drank ink become a legendary calligraphy master?

So he went all in and guzzled a few ink bottles, turning his teeth and tongue black as tar before suffering stomach pains that scared his parents into hauling him to the clinic in the middle of the night…

He Shengshi mentally reviewed every cringe-worthy memory and decided they were all within tolerable limits. What hadn’t the old guy been through?

He should have felt relieved, but for some reason, his gut said this was worse than it looked.

Unfortunately, he was dead right.

"He Shengshi met a calligraphy enthusiast online, and after chatting for a while, they hit it off. So, the other person invited He Shengshi to meet in person, and He Shengshi agreed."

"Wait, Dad, you..." Little He, He Shengshi's son, widened his eyes in shock. "You're not getting into an online romance at your age, are you?"

"Mom may be gone, but if you want a late-life romance, just say so. It's not like we'd object. Finding someone proper in real life is way more reliable than someone online."

"No wonder you've been glued to your phone lately, even harder to get to the table than Xinxin." So, it was a case of an old house on fire—burning with new love.

Xinxin was his great-grandson, just eighteen, currently in a young and awkward long-distance romance, chatting nonstop with his girlfriend who was studying in another city.

Being compared to his great-grandson didn't sit well with the old man. He Shengshi shot his son a glare. "What nonsense are you thinking? You’re the one with a filthy mind!"

"Not every online friendship is about *that*. It’s completely innocent."

"He’s a man. I see him as a junior, just like you—no, just like Xinxin. He’s probably quite young, maybe in his twenties or thirties."

"These days, not many young people are into calligraphy, especially someone with such excellent taste and a keen eye. He can instantly tell whether a piece is good and why. Unlike you, who can’t tell good calligraphy from bad."

At this point, He Shengshi also felt puzzled. He gave his son a disappointed look. "I raised you surrounded by books and culture. Your old man is a calligrapher, after all. Even if you can’t write well, how come you don’t have the knack either? No wonder Xinxin and the others don’t have the knack either."

"Coming up, our city is hosting a calligraphy competition. The organizers invited me to be a judge and present awards," He Shengshi continued. Though his young friend hadn’t yet proposed meeting, he was He Shengshi’s only online buddy. "I’ll probably invite him to watch the competition and meet up then."

This was a normal way to meet an online friend—nothing sketchy.

But... was there something wrong with this friend?

No way. He Shengshi couldn’t believe it. He’d never noticed anything off. The guy had a great personality. Sure, the age gap sometimes made conversations a bit confusing, but that was understandable.

Young people these days say three years make a generation gap. At eighty, who knew how many gaps stood between him and his friend? Some miscommunication was to be expected.

With age comes wisdom, and He Shengshi might not boast about much, but after living this long, he trusted his ability to read people.

He could tell the other person was genuinely sincere, kind, and passionate about calligraphy. Even when they weren’t discussing calligraphy, the young man would send daily greetings asking after his health.

If the friend himself wasn’t the problem, He Shengshi suddenly thought of another possibility.

What if the reason he appeared in the novel wasn’t because *he* was in trouble, but because the author wanted to use him to introduce his young friend?

What if his young friend was the one in real danger?

The thought made He Shengshi even more restless. At his age, a little bad luck was nothing. No matter how high the hurdle, he’d shut his eyes and leap over it. A few years from now, eyes shut for good, who’d even remember?

But young people were different. They hadn’t weathered much hardship. If something like this hit them out of nowhere, what if they couldn’t take it? The thought of those news stories—people jumping off buildings or into rivers—made He Shengshi’s heart pound.

"That online friend is the architect of the apocalypse!"

Sheng Qingquan’s mental voice struck like a thunderbolt.

"How...?" He Shengshi went rigid, unable to believe his ears. Only when he saw the worried looks on everyone else’s faces did he accept that he’d really heard those words. It wasn’t a hallucination.

"I always knew meeting online friends came with risks, but I never imagined the stakes could be *this* high."

"Who’d have thought this ‘friend’ isn’t even human?!"

"Usually, when people get into trouble from online meetings, it’s losing money, getting hurt, or being scammed in love. At worst, they lose organs or their lives. Even if the damage spreads, it’s usually just dragging down friends and family."

"Serious, yes, but for humanity? No big deal."

Things like this happen hundreds—maybe thousands—of times a year.

"Unlike other online friends, meeting this one would risk the entire Tianlan Star."

"Just by meeting an online friend, I became an eternal villain?" He Shengshi asked in disbelief.

If it weren’t Sheng Qingquan saying this, he would never have believed it no matter what.

But precisely because it was Sheng Qingquan who spoke, He Shengshi had to reconsider the matter: "So when he asked to meet me, he actually had ulterior motives?"

"Did I misjudge him?"

"No wonder our conversations sometimes felt like we were speaking different languages—it wasn’t just an age gap, but a whole planet-sized gap! He’s not even from Tianlan Star!"

"What does he want from me by setting up this meeting?" He Shengshi couldn’t help but ponder. He was an ordinary man, with nothing particularly remarkable about him except for his decent calligraphy.

Even his looks were nothing special next to other seniors—just a common old man you’d see anywhere. What could anyone possibly want from him?

Hold on—if he’s an alien...

He Shengshi suddenly realized something. To an alien, his biggest giveaway would be his status as a native of Tianlan Star.

Perhaps that’s what the other party was after?

Did he want an invitation from him?

The old man was quite with-it—he’d read martial arts novels in his youth, and now in his later years, he tried to keep up with all kinds of fiction.

So he knew how these stories went.

Moreover, similar situations had occurred during the previous Doomsday crisis.

He Shengshi couldn’t help but suspect that, as an alien, the other party might not be able to land on Tianlan Star directly. Perhaps due to some weird cosmic rule, he needed a native like him to say yes and ask him over?

If he, as a native, agreed and extended the invitation, would it mean Tianlan Star itself had consented?

Just like in the ghost stories he’d read—some spirits couldn’t enter a house without the owner’s invitation or unless the door was opened for them.

Was this the same principle?! Had the other party befriended him just for this?

"Devious and despicable!" He Shengshi turned red with rage, too mad to even process how his sincerity had been exploited.

He only regretted not being vigilant enough to spot what they were pulling sooner, allowing them to nearly succeed.

Even though no invitation had been extended in reality and nothing had happened yet, the old man’s blood pressure spiked, startling Xiao He into rushing over with a med-scanner.

"Talk about lost in translation! Cultural gaps’ll wreck you!"

"Strictly speaking, this isn’t entirely the other party’s fault."

"He didn’t deceive He Shengshi—he was a real calligraphy fan and wanted to meet in person to geek out over it properly. He even brought valuable items to exchange for some of He Shengshi’s calligraphy works."

"Though he did have a little side agenda—to connect with other calligraphers through He Shengshi, appreciate more works, and possibly snag a few pieces to take back with him."

"But in the end, that’s not exactly criminal."

Indeed, it wasn’t. Realizing things might not be as dire as he’d thought, and after getting patched up by the med-scanner, He Shengshi cooled his jets a bit.

"I was already planning to introduce him to other calligraphers." Showing rookies the ropes was common in their field. He Shengshi treated him like family and wouldn’t hesitate to share connections.

Besides, to master calligraphy, one couldn’t lock yourself in a room—it required exposure and exchange with others.

He Shengshi, having absorbed wisdom from many schools of thought, naturally understood the importance of guidance from renowned experts. Sometimes, a master’s brief advice was more effective than months of solitary practice by an ordinary person.

"Shu Hao belongs to the Bookworm Clan. Their entire species originates from books. Unlike other clan members who devour all genres, Shu Hao has a particular fondness for calligraphy."

"The Bookworm Clan feeds on books—not by physically consuming them, but by absorbing the *Literary Essence* from the stories and written characters. This *Literary Essence* is what nourishes them. After consuming it, the Bookworms leave no negative impact on the original works."

"On the contrary, the books actually benefit from it."

"After feeding on *Literary Essence*, Bookworms replenish the works with *Book Qi*. This *Book Qi* extends the lifespan of the works, preventing damage or decay."

"The Bookworm Clan are polar opposites of Azure Star’s book-devouring pests."

"So he’s here for a meal?" Everyone suddenly understood.

Not just modern calligraphers—imagine the ancient masterpieces passed down through Azure Star’s history.

Wouldn’t they set Shu Hao’s cravings ablaze?

But Shu Hao’s consumption of books was harmless, even beneficial. With proper communication, even national treasures—priceless calligraphies—could be loaned by officials. After all, preserving such treasures longer would be a win for Azure Star.

Everyone knew how difficult it was to maintain paper-based artifacts.

So Shu Hao probably wasn’t starving to the point of losing control upon seeing a grand feast, killing the owners just to indulge.

Then what caused the apocalypse?

Remembering Sheng Qingquan’s note about differing lifestyles and the fact that Shu Hao hadn’t arrived empty-handed—he was well-versed in fair trade and had brought valuable items for exchange—the staff traded looks, piecing it together.

"Was the problem with these items?"

"Different perceptions—what he considered valuable might not just be worthless on Azure Star, but potentially dangerous?"

"Were they radioactive—triggering mutations? Or were those items living organisms, leading to a biological invasion?"

If so, the solution would be simple. Just ask him not to bring those items or replace them with safe alternatives.

"The Bookworm Clan feeds on *Literary Essence* and is highly sensitive to scents."

"Other scents, whether foul or fragrant, pose no issue."

"Except for floral/fruity scents—only pure naturals are tolerable. Natural ones affect them but can be blocked or controlled. Synthetic versions? Toxic to them. Problem is, Azure Star’s lotions, perfumes—nearly all are scented."

"Floral and fruity scents are the most popular among Azure Starans."

"To hook shoppers, these products boast an ever-increasing variety of synthetic floral and fruity fragrances. While some natural options exist, synthetics rule—cheaper to produce."

"Shu Hao hadn’t anticipated this. The moment he arrived, he was blindsided by a wave of fake fragrance—even with minimal makeup present at the calligraphy competition."

Before Sheng Qingquan could explain further, the team had connected the dots.

They’d blamed Shu Hao’s items—but the culprit was something entirely unexpected.

In the end, no villain here—yet disaster struck anyway.

"Probably because high-quality paper is made from wood pulp. Trees reproduce by flowering and fruiting. The Bookworm Tribe, born from books, is naturally aroused by floral and fruity scents, triggering their mating urges."

"So you're saying floral and fruity scents are like... their version of spring fever?"

"Natural floral and fruity scents are everywhere. To prevent uncontrolled mating urges, the Bookworm Tribe long ago developed targeted blockers. Every newborn Bookworm takes a dose after birth, granting lifelong immunity."

"Factory-made fragrances wouldn’t normally be an issue. But Tianlanxing hasn’t yet integrated with the interstellar community. Their synthetic fragrance technology is completely different."

"So, the factory-made fragrances on Tianlanxing bypass the blockers' defenses. They’re outside the immunity range."

"The Bookworm was instantly affected, losing all rationality and forced into rut. Here's the kicker: the Bookworm Tribe’s mating cycles have always been suppressed by medication. If it doesn’t flare up, it’s fine—but once it does, it’s explosively violent."

"The Bookworm went berserk on the spot, not only absorbing the Literary Essence from every text carrier in sight but also mindlessly destroying them."

"With no other Bookworm to relieve the condition, after all text carriers were gone, he transformed every human he saw into Books of Life."

"This is the Bookworm’s innate ability. If they wish, they can read the 'Book of Life' of any living being, which also satiates their hunger."

"But compared to gobbling up every individual’s life, they prefer making friends, communicating face-to-face. Listening to children talk about their day, hearing young people complain about life’s hassles and small joys, or elders share stories of the past."

"Language is also a form of text."

"To Bookworms, transforming someone into their Book of Life might let them read their entire existence at once, but it’s like wolfing down a gourmet meal—graceless and unsatisfying. It also violates privacy, like sneaking into someone’s home to steal food. A major invasion of privacy."

"They prefer taking their time to savor things slowly."

"So unless facing an enemy, Bookworms would never do this."

"But a Bookworm who’s lost all rationality, unable to find a mate, is driven by physical agony to lash out and search."

"The longer the search, the more violent the frenzy."

"Such a Bookworm on Tianlanxing is like Godzilla—no, far more brutal."

"In the end, humans died, Tianlanxing was nearly destroyed, and Shu Hao, stuck in his mating frenzy, ended up just as doomed. Overusing his innate ability, exhausting himself searching for kin—combined with everything else, he didn’t survive the ruined planet either."

"A mutual destruction!" And entirely avoidable. The group couldn’t help but sigh.

"No matter how euphemistically the book phrases it, the facts remain. Both sides were victims, but for some reason, even though Tianlanxing suffered more deaths, I can’t help feeling Shu Hao had it worse."

"After all... he literally died blue-balled!" Sheng Qingquan blurted out.