After Bai Liu finished outlining his three conjectures, he set down his pen, which rolled twice across the desk before coming to rest by Mu Sicheng's expressionless hand.
Bai Liu's demeanor remained tranquil, as though he had not just uttered something earth-shattering. At last, he glanced at Mu Sicheng's numb face and added, with genuine candor, "Of course, this is merely my personal perspective. It may well be otherwise."
A long silence settled over the cramped apartment, broken only by the occasional breeze brushing Bai Liu's fingertips, stirring the paper upon which he had inscribed the world's truth.
It was the height of summer. Sunlight poured through the window behind Bai Liu, gilding the room in midday brilliance. The raucous chorus of cicadas and the distant blare of car horns drifted in from outside.
Yet all these sights and sounds, which should have lent the world a sense of warmth and vitality, seemed to fade into monochrome within Mu Sicheng's mind. Like Bai Liu, who sat quietly at the desk, haloed by light, everything retreated into curling, data-like lines, vanishing behind the veil of his closed eyes.
The moment Bai Liu set down his pen, Mu Sicheng felt a ringing in his ears, as if even his breath had become illusory.
Reality is a game?
The sanctuary he had fought so hard to preserve, a promised land unsullied by his baser desires, was nothing more than another game.
Mu Sicheng slumped back in his chair, one hand draped over his eyes, the other hanging limply at his side. He remained in that posture, silent, for a long time.
Bai Liu did not disturb him.
After an indeterminate interval, Mu Sicheng finally let out a bitter, hoarse laugh. "Bai Liu, I'm starting to wonder if you concocted this terrifying theory just to trick me into joining your team. It's not true, is it? It can't be real, right?"
"The vast majority of truths in this world are terrifying," Bai Liu replied, rising to fold the paper and tuck it into a book. "Otherwise, where would we find material for our games?" He turned back to Mu Sicheng.
Mu Sicheng gazed at him, haunted.
Bai Liu shrugged. "But it seems you're reluctant to accept it, so perhaps I ought to grant you a buffer—a space to escape or to come to terms with it. That's why I said it might not be so; after all, the first or second possibilities could still be true."
Mu Sicheng: "…"
Damn it, how is that any different from telling me outright it's the third?
He sat slumped for a long, long time before looking at Bai Liu in confusion. "Bai Liu, if our reality is just a game, then where is true reality? Does it even exist? What, in this world, can be said to have genuine meaning? Why aren't you afraid of this game-like existence?"
Bai Liu was not flustered by this barrage of questions. He pondered for a moment.
"I've been asking myself what reality is, and what truly matters to me, since I was a teenager," Bai Liu said, spreading his hands. "But aside from one close friend, most of my peers never understood me. Eventually, I realized they might never contemplate such questions, and yet they could still live quite well in this illusory world."
"Whether reality is a game or something else, believe me, for the vast majority of people, it makes no difference. To put it in the language of objective idealism: a person's value logic is constructed from their perception of self and the world. As long as 'I' am real, and what I pursue is real, then the world is real to me."
Bai Liu spoke with perfect composure. "Whether this world is a game or something else, it's all the same to me."
"So long as currency exists, my desire for wealth will never be extinguished. That is my reality, my meaning."
"If you haven't found your own meaning yet, why not try mine?" Bai Liu picked up the keys hanging by the door and looked back at the dazed Mu Sicheng. "Try chasing something tangible—like the five hundred million points for winning the tournament."
"Perhaps, with enough money, you could buy the reality you seek." Bai Liu pushed open the door. "With five hundred million points, I think you could purchase a whole planet to create your own 'real world.'"
Mu Sicheng's face twisted in silence.
"Bai Liu, were you a pyramid scheme salesman in a past life?"
Once again, he found himself swayed by this madman's bizarre logic!
"So, what's your answer?" Bai Liu raised an eyebrow. "Will you join the league?"
Mu Sicheng gritted his teeth. "I'm in!" Then, quickly, "But you'll need five players, at least. How are we supposed to compete otherwise?"
"Don't worry about that. I'll handle it. Just wait for my word." Bai Liu turned to ask, "I'm heading out to have hotpot with a friend. Care to join?"
Mu Sicheng: "…"
How can you think about hotpot at a time like this?!
Perhaps his contorted expression betrayed his incredulity, for Bai Liu fished two discount coupons from his pocket and waved them. "Because I have two hotpot coupons, and they expire today."
Mu Sicheng: "…"
He could not hope to match Bai Liu's monstrous composure. Still reeling from the shattering of his worldview, Mu Sicheng declined the invitation, exchanged contact information and school addresses with Bai Liu, and returned alone to his dormitory to contemplate life.
Bai Liu, meanwhile, set out with his two hotpot coupons, his mood buoyant—showing no trace of a man who had just survived a deadly game, nor of one who had just unveiled the world's uncanny truth.
Mu Sicheng, bewildered and speechless, could only marvel, "You actually seem to be in a good mood?"
"Yes," Bai Liu admitted, eyes crinkling in a smile. "It's my off-hours now. Of course I'm happy."
Mu Sicheng: "…"
He was reminded of Bai Liu's theory that horror games were just another day at the office.
Damn! This guy really does think he's clocked out!
What kind of environment could produce such a monster?
After bidding farewell to the dazed Mu Sicheng, Bai Liu went to meet Lu Yizhan.
Upon waking, Bai Liu had discovered two missed calls from Lu Yizhan, but, being in the game, had not answered. He texted to ask what was wrong, and Lu Yizhan replied that he wanted to talk in person.
Given that he might be unreachable for the next two months, Bai Liu thought it wise to inform Lu Yizhan—who, as a police officer, would surely file a missing person's report if he vanished without a word. So he arranged to meet at the hotpot restaurant.
Bai Liu arrived early; the place was nearly empty. He ordered a pot and some dishes, confirmed with the owner that the coupons were valid, and waited patiently.
Before leaving, the owner turned on the restaurant's television for Bai Liu. The midday news was airing, and Bai Liu immediately spotted a pixelated photo of Li Gouyan on the screen.
The anchor, impeccably dressed, sat with hands folded, intoning gravely, "Welcome to the Midday News. Recently, key evidence has been found in the dismemberment case of high school senior Li. If convicted, Li faces the death penalty. However, before sentencing, Li was hacked to pieces in prison by a fellow inmate, Wang, who was also serving time for murder…"
The anchor glanced down at his script, then continued, "In other news, a privately funded orphanage in our city has suffered a mass food poisoning incident. Many children have been hospitalized, and police investigations reveal that, due to mismanagement and impending closure, the orphanage purchased large quantities of cheap, spoiled food, leading to widespread illness and, in severe cases, dehydration and shock. We urge the public to donate generously…"
Bai Liu was watching with interest when Lu Yizhan arrived, haggard and travel-worn.
One look at his friend's weary face told Bai Liu that Lu Yizhan had been burning the midnight oil.
Lu Yizhan sat down and gulped two cups of tea before launching into a tirade. "Damn! You have no idea how busy I've been! I barely had time to breathe this morning!"
"We only had dinner a few days ago, didn't we?" Bai Liu arched an eyebrow. "Is wedding prep really that terrifying?"
Lu Yizhan waved a hand, then caught sight of the news on TV. His expression changed, and he called a waiter over, lowering his voice, "It's not just the wedding. Excuse me, could we have a private room?"
The restaurant was still quiet, so the waiter quickly obliged.
Once inside, Lu Yizhan's face grew grave. He pulled out a cigarette.
Bai Liu hadn't seen him smoke in ages. Since getting a girlfriend—now fiancée—Lu Yizhan had quit all his vices: smoking, gaming, gambling. Even drinking a soda was a furtive act, for his fiancée was convinced that cola was harmful to fertility and forbade him from drinking any carbonated beverages.
Bai Liu was privately grateful she didn't know beer was carbonated, or Lu Yizhan's last pleasure—beer and barbecue—would be lost.
With a wry smile, Bai Liu asked, "Should I be worried, Lu Yizhan? What's happened to make you smoke again? Didn't you swear you'd never touch cigarettes again unless the world ended? Has your world collapsed in the few days I've been gone?"
Lu Yizhan choked on his smoke, then laughed. He had the kind of honest, open face that endeared him to the elderly, and his smile was a little goofy but charming. "Bai Liu, just ask your question! No need to bring up my embarrassing past!"
"Go on," Bai Liu poured him a cup of tea. "I'm off the clock now, so I can spare a little of my precious time to hear about your world-shattering woes."
"Wedding stuff is a pain," Lu Yizhan admitted after a pause, "but that's not what's really bothering me. Did you see the news about the orphanage?"
Bai Liu nodded. "I did. What about it?"
"A colleague is handling the case. He says it doesn't look like ordinary food poisoning. Many of the kids are still in critical condition, and the cause hasn't been determined." Lu Yizhan frowned. "But mushroom poisoning? You and I both grew up in orphanages, and Mirror City isn't a mushroom-producing region. Mushrooms are expensive, and orphanages rarely buy them. This one's privately funded and nearly bankrupt…"
"In short, something feels off. But for now, the plan is to keep the orphanage open. Until the investigation is complete, the children aren't really safe…"
"Sounds complicated," Bai Liu replied coolly. "But what does it have to do with you, Lu Yizhan? You're a cop, but this isn't your case, is it?"
Lu Yizhan was silent for a moment. "I volunteered for the investigation."
Bai Liu glanced at him but said nothing.
"You know I'm getting married soon. Dian-jie's health isn't great… The doctor says she may not be able to have children. We've been talking about adopting from the orphanage…" Lu Yizhan's fingers tightened around his cup. He forced a smile. "I know you'll think I'm being impulsive, and my finances aren't great…"
He took a breath. "But after talking it over, we decided to adopt a child from that orphanage. It's better for one less child to be in such an unstable place. I grew up in an orphanage myself—it's a way to give back."
"So, why are you telling me something you know I probably won't approve of?" Bai Liu's tone was calm. "What do you want from me?"
Lu Yizhan fiddled with his cigarette, silent.
A waiter brought a bubbling hotpot, its spicy aroma filling the room.
At last, Lu Yizhan spoke, almost to himself. "Bai Liu, I really didn't want to drag you into this, but your mind is too sharp for these things."
"If there's a crime with big stakes, you can almost always predict the next move. You're a genius at this."
Bai Liu sipped his tea, expressionless. "I'll take that as a compliment. It's not the first time you've come to me for help. Just say what you need."
"Can you take a look at this case?" Lu Yizhan looked up. "My colleague's investigation has hit a wall. Your insights have always been spot-on…"
He hesitated, then added, "I know I'm meddling, but I can't just stand by. They're just children…"
Bai Liu snapped apart a pair of disposable chopsticks, cutting him off. "I'll take a look, but I don't work for free. The usual rule—this meal's on you."
Lu Yizhan nodded, well accustomed to Bai Liu's demand for payment.
"And I can only help for a day," Bai Liu said. "I'm leaving on a business trip tomorrow—gone for two months."
Lu Yizhan was startled. "Two months? That long? What kind of job is this? If it's like last time, a performance gig, it shouldn't take that long, right?"
Bai Liu paused, then, mindful of the game's censorship, rephrased, "This time, I'm teaming up with a monkey and a young master to put on a show for the audience. It'll last two months."
Lu Yizhan's expression was complicated. "Is this job even legal?"
"It's legal."
"Monkeys, young masters, playing games for an audience, and it's legal? And a two-month performance…" Lu Yizhan pondered, then slapped his thigh in sudden realization. "You're with a circus, aren't you? Going on tour for two months?"
Bai Liu was silent for a few seconds. "Yes."
———
After returning home, Bai Liu reviewed the information Lu Yizhan had given him about the private orphanage.
In their world, most orphanages were public, run by the government. Both Bai Liu and Lu Yizhan had grown up in such places.
Lu Yizhan had become a model citizen, grateful and eager to give back, determined from childhood to serve as a police officer.
Bai Liu, on the other hand, had always been obsessed with money. If not for Lu Yizhan's vigilance, who knew what he might have done for profit.
But this orphanage was not public. It had been founded a decade ago by a group of terminally ill philanthropists, who, following the tradition of "good deeds at death's door," donated generously to build it, earning much praise. Lu Yizhan had always admired this.
Curiously, after the orphanage was built, many of the benefactors' illnesses improved, as if "virtue brings reward."
But once they recovered, their charitable impulses waned, and the orphanage gradually fell into neglect.
Reviewing the files, Bai Liu understood Lu Yizhan's unease.
The poorly managed orphanage had suffered numerous incidents, mostly mushroom poisonings, though this was the worst yet.
Lu Yizhan said that, taken together, these poisonings seemed less like accidents. Yet investigations had found no evidence of foul play—no deliberate poisoning, just a string of food-related mishaps, as with the current case.
It was as if some higher power had erased all traces of anything but "accidental food poisoning."
Lu Yizhan even suspected an inside job, with someone deliberately covering up the crime.
From the perspective of a game designer devoid of humanity, Bai Liu saw a perfect template for a horror game—a failing orphanage, a bizarre food poisoning, and children dying in agony.
Rather than suspecting a human cover-up, Bai Liu wondered if, as he'd theorized, the erasure of evidence was not the work of man.
He suspected this orphanage was becoming a "horror game instance" being deployed into the "real world."
———
At dawn the next day, Bai Liu was jolted awake by a barrage of calls from Lu Yizhan. When he answered, Lu Yizhan's voice was graver than ever. "Bai Liu, come to Mirror City First People's Hospital. The children brought in last night—"
"Many of them died, didn't they?" Bai Liu finished calmly.
Lu Yizhan's breath caught, then he exhaled slowly. "Have you found anything?"
"Not yet," Bai Liu replied honestly. "But from the information you gave me, if someone was deliberately poisoning, and has done so repeatedly, their goal must be murder. Given the severity this time, I'd say the mushrooms the children ate were a lethal dose."
"…Yes. Many died despite resuscitation," Lu Yizhan said hoarsely. "But one child survived."
"One child survived?" Bai Liu immediately sensed something amiss.
If this orphanage was a "horror game instance" being deployed by the system, the children serving as the game's background would likely all perish, just like the passengers in the "Explosive Last Bus."
Bai Liu asked quietly, "May I come over?"
Lu Yizhan: "Yes, come."
When Bai Liu arrived, the hospital entrance was swarmed with reporters.
Lu Yizhan met him at the surgical elevator. As they passed the operating rooms, Bai Liu saw rows of small bodies, faces shrouded in white cloth. There were so many that some had yet to be removed, haphazardly filling the corridor, turning it into a makeshift morgue.
From time to time, nurses with numb faces would wheel away the corpses. Occasionally, a small, purple-mottled hand would slip from beneath the shroud, covered in livid blotches.
These marks, along with swollen bruises, mottled the children's skin like the patterns of mushrooms, as if at any moment a toadstool might sprout from their flesh.
A sickly, fungal stench permeated the operating room, as though the mushrooms the children had eaten were now fermenting in their fresh corpses, rotting yet teeming with fungal vitality.
Bai Liu withdrew his gaze, turning to Lu Yizhan. Once they had passed the operating room, he asked softly, "Are you sure these children only died last night? The degree of decomposition seems off."
"Yes," Lu Yizhan replied, rubbing his brow. "The livor mortis appeared too quickly, and the rigor mortis is off as well."
Bai Liu glanced at him. "How so?"
Lu Yizhan paused, leaning against the wall to light a cigarette, exhaling in heavy clouds—a sign of his deep distress.
"The livor mortis appeared within minutes of death, spreading rapidly—something you'd expect after more than twenty-four hours. Rigor mortis, too—the bodies stiffened almost immediately, and by dawn had already begun to soften and decay. That's also typical of deaths over twenty-four hours old."
"It's as if…" Lu Yizhan hesitated, "these poisoned children were already dead before they reached the hospital."
As they spoke, they reached the pediatric emergency ward. Through the half-open door, Bai Liu could see more shrouded bodies on hospital beds, nurses zipping them into body bags.
The children's faces were not the pallid white of death, but covered in vivid, raised spots.
Bai Liu knew that some mushroom poisonings could cause allergic rashes, but these spots were so dense they resembled a color-blindness test, and bulged from the skin. Even Bai Liu, who was not prone to trypophobia, felt a faint discomfort.
It was as if, beneath the children's faces, mushrooms were waiting to burst forth.