"Damn!" Mu Sicheng cursed, staring at the mirror shard lying on the ground within the glass. "How are we supposed to retrieve that shard from inside the mirror? Zhang Gui was burned alive in there! Are we meant to go in ourselves?"
"Calm down, Mu Sicheng. Zhang Gui was consumed by fire because his aberration value was reduced to zero by the mirror. According to the game's rules, he had to become a monster of this instance, and only then did the mirror incinerate him," Bai Liu replied, his tone unhurried and composed. "From this, we can infer that as long as our sanity doesn't drop to zero, we should be relatively safe inside the mirror."
As he spoke, he removed his diving mask, bit open a bottle of mental bleach, and gestured for Mu Sicheng to drink as well, so they could enter the mirror together.
Bai Liu showed not the slightest awareness that he was walking into mortal danger—he had only one point of health left!
Mu Sicheng was on the verge of collapse, but there was no other way forward; to refuse was to die regardless. Gritting his teeth, he downed a bottle of mental bleach. The two of them dove into the mirror, its pristine surface rippling like water before settling once more into stillness.
Bai Liu's composure remained unshaken, but the audience before the small TV was in utter turmoil:
"No way! Another god-level NPC, and now they have to enter the mirror? Isn't this nightmare difficulty?!"
"My hands are ice-cold watching Bai Liu go in… He only has one point of health left…"
"Damn it, I can't accept this!! Go, Liu-ge! I'm sending you all my likes and power! It's the final chapter—hold on, we can win!!"
"Stay strong, Liu-ge!!!"
Wang Shun's face was so tense it seemed about to drip water. Xiang Chunhua and Liu Fu transferred all their game points to Bai Liu, eyes squeezed shut, unable to watch, hands clasped in frantic prayer: "Bodhisattva, please protect Bai Liu! Let him be safe! May good people live in peace!"
Unaware of the outside world's anxiety, Bai Liu entered the mirror with a health bar on the verge of depletion, yet remained perfectly calm.
The truth was, the scene inside the mirror left him no room for fear.
The train rumbled forward, surrounded by the chatter of high school students just released from evening classes and weary office workers glued to their phones after a late shift, stifling yawns.
The familiar din, the ebb and flow of passengers, the numb fatigue on every face—this was the daily grind Bai Liu knew all too well. There were no charred corpses, no flames, no ominous signs. If not for his clear memory of being inside a game, he might have believed he had returned to reality.
He glanced at the LED display in the carriage—20XX, Y month, Z day, 10:57 p.m. This was the last train of the night. Bai Liu's memory was sharp; he recalled that the train involved in the explosion had detonated at eleven o'clock. If this was a true projection of reality, then after one more stop, the train would explode.
A sweet female voice announced over the intercom: "Next stop, Lujiazui. Final destination—Antique City. Passengers alighting, please remain seated and hold on, queue at the doors, let others off before boarding—"
Bai Liu stood in the carriage, remembering that he and Lu Yizhan had disembarked at Lujiazui. If this was a projection of the real explosion, then—Bai Liu moved through a couple of carriages, scanning left and right, until he saw himself and Lu Yizhan at the center of one.
The "Bai Liu" in the carriage, like the other office workers, stared drowsily at his phone, yawning lazily from time to time. Back then, he hadn't yet lost his job, often working late. If Lu Yizhan was also working overtime, he would wait for Bai Liu at the station so they could ride part of the way together before heading home separately. Bai Liu never quite understood why Lu Yizhan insisted on this, finding it reminiscent of schoolchildren holding hands to the restroom—a habit he found faintly exasperating.
But Lu Yizhan was persistent, believing it unsafe for Bai Liu to go home so late, and would always accompany him. They had grown up together, and Lu Yizhan was used to looking after Bai Liu, who was, admittedly, a handful. For instance, now, Bai Liu was dozing off, arms folded, head nodding beside his seat.
Lu Yizhan shook his head in resignation, took off his coat, and draped it over "Bai Liu's" shoulders. With the natural vigilance of a police officer, he stood beside him, scanning the carriage, his gaze briefly meeting Bai Liu's before passing on as if nothing were amiss.
From a distance, Bai Liu watched, his own form seeming insubstantial, as if he were a translucent projection, a mere data echo of the "Bai Liu" being covered by Lu Yizhan's coat.
Lu Yizhan could not see him.
Soon, the train arrived at Lujiazui. The doors opened. In Bai Liu's memory, they had both alighted here because Lu Yizhan received a call and had to leave early. Bai Liu, however, needed to ride to Antique City to transfer, and by rights should have died in the explosion, but Lu Yizhan's insistence had led him to transfer at Lujiazui instead.
But this time, "Bai Liu" did not get off.
Lu Yizhan received a call, clearly urgent, and tried to rouse "Bai Liu," but he feigned sleep, refusing to move. In the end, Lu Yizhan left his coat and disembarked alone, unable to wake him.
"Bai Liu" stood quietly opposite the open doors, eyes closed in exhaustion, as the crowd and Lu Yizhan flowed out. As time passed, "Bai Liu" remained, and the train prepared to depart.
Unstable patches began to flicker across Bai Liu's face, as if data errors were distorting his features.
The sweet voice sounded again: "The train is about to depart for the final station…"
[System error: Player Bai Liu data load failure… Player Bai Liu has been detected as deceased in the explosion and cannot enter the game… Initiating data deletion for Player Bai Liu…]
Unstable, pixelated noise began to flicker all over Bai Liu's body, yet he felt no fear—only raised an eyebrow in mild surprise. "So it really is reality."
This hyper-realistic scene, Bai Liu suspected, was generated from the player's memory, but this game exceeded the bounds of ordinary reality, or even the reality of his own dimension. Upon seeing the train perfectly matching his recollection, he began to suspect another possibility.
That this was not a memory at all, but reality itself—the game had returned him to the scene of the explosion, to the very train about to detonate. For there was a clear discrepancy: Bai Liu distinctly remembered that, though he was tired that night, he had not fallen asleep on the train—he was too cold.
This was not a scene derived from memory, but the actual last train he had boarded. Only real events could differ from memory in such a way.
He had been waiting for the train to depart; if it did, the "Bai Liu" here would die in the explosion, and there would be no entry into the game. His presence here was a paradox, and the system was bound to report a data error—as it now did.
"Bai Liu" leaned against the seat, half-asleep, truly exhausted. Bai Liu knew how tired he had been.
But he would not watch himself die on this doomed train, even if he was now only a projection of data.
With calm precision, Bai Liu opened the system panel and purchased a phone. Though he existed only as data, data could touch and alter reality, could transmit information.
He entered his own number and dialed. The call was answered instantly, and Bai Liu saw himself pick up. A faint smile tugged at his lips as he subtly altered his voice: "Hello, is this Mr. Bai Liu?"
"Mm, this is he," replied the other "Bai Liu," lazily. "Who's calling?"
"I found Mr. Lu Yizhan's phone and wallet at the Lujiazui subway exit, along with his ID and driver's license. Your number was listed as his emergency contact, but his phone is nearly out of battery, so I'm calling from my own," Bai Liu lied smoothly. "Could you come collect his belongings?"
At this time, Bai Liu recalled, Lu Yizhan had just switched to a new, rather expensive phone, which he cherished but, being careless, was prone to losing.
A wallet and a new phone—more than enough motivation for Bai Liu.
The "Bai Liu" on the train straightened, heading for the door. At the last moment, he stepped off, saying softly, "Okay, wait for me at the exit. I'll be right there."
As "Bai Liu" left the train, the unstable patches and noise on Bai Liu's face smoothed out. Through the closed doors, he gazed at his counterpart on the platform, lowering his eyes with a faint smile. "Thank you. I won't move."