I Rely on Kisses to Clear Survival Games

Cheng Zhichu jolted awake, a violent bump sending a jolt through his body. Darkness enveloped him, broken only by the dim, sickly yellow glow of streetlights that filtered through the confines of what he quickly realized was the back of a moving truck. The rough hemp ropes binding his wrists and ankles dug into his skin, leaving him utterly helpless.
The truck swayed and rumbled, its tires crunching on what sounded like a remote mountain road. Through the gaps in the makeshift cage, he saw only dense, ominous woods stretching endlessly on either side. A chilling voice crackled from a garbled radio, speaking of "vicious homicides" and "cruelly tortured victims," words that clawed at his burgeoning terror.
This wasn't a dream. Every sensation was agonizingly real. One moment, he'd been in his dorm, his roommates nearby. The next, he was here, kidnapped, racing deeper into the unknown. A cold dread seeped into his bones. He had to escape. He had to.
