Over a dozen players charged at the door, throwing themselves at it with reckless abandon.
Even without their memories, the players’ physical strength remained. The thick, sturdy wooden door, under their relentless assault, began to shake, the walls around it trembling.
“Stop! Stop! Students inside, stop!”
“Should we open the door and beat them into submission?”
“What if they escape and disrupt things upstairs? They can’t break it down now. We’ll deal with them after the memory transfer!”
The loud crashing noises drowned out the smaller sounds of impact inside the Reflection Hall.
Hong Zhenjiang’s arm muscles bulged, veins popping as he hammered his fists against the marked spot on the ceiling. Each punch drew blood, fresh stains covering the dried blood from the night before.
The small marks formed tiny dents and grooves, arranged in a circular pattern.
That Friday night during self-study, they had returned to the study room. Ning Su had explained the structure of the Reflection Hall: “The memory transfer must be happening on the second floor.”
Ning Changfeng had laid out the plan: “We have two strategies. Regardless of which one we use, once we confirm that someone lost their memory during the Chinese exam, you’ll need to cause a disturbance in the exam hall. If it doesn’t happen during the Chinese exam, it’ll have to be during the first English exam in the afternoon. It has to be one of these two exams because there’s only a 20-minute break afterward, and the memory transfer is fixed to that time frame.”
“Plan One: If you cause trouble but aren’t immediately locked in the Reflection Hall, and they wait until after the exam to lock you up, then it’ll be a more brutal approach. You’ll have to hide in the black forest or at the bottom of the lake and find a chance to force your way in.”
“Plan Two: If you cause trouble and are locked in the Reflection Hall right away, the situation is slightly better. One group will charge the door to distract the guards and security, while the players with memories will break through the ceiling of the Reflection Hall to reach the second floor and see how they’re transferring memories.”
Ning Su added, “It might be related to the black tree on the roof of the Reflection Hall. The entire structure is made of very hard wood, so breaking through the roof in a few seconds is nearly impossible. We’ll need to prepare the night before the exam.”
Ji Zeming immediately raised his hand. “I’ll take the amnesiac players!”
He said sheepishly, “Everyone else is contributing ideas, strength, and even… risking their lives. I haven’t done anything for the group yet. Let me take them.”
On Saturday night, Ji Zeming led the amnesiac players in a protest on the sports field. The furious director of student affairs immediately locked them in the Reflection Hall.
They had brought tools like utility knives and lighters in their pockets, but the blue light scanner detected everything at the entrance.
The director of student affairs scolded them and confiscated all their tools.
Locked in the dim, oppressive Reflection Hall filled with black mist, Ji Zeming didn’t know what to do.
They were supposed to prepare secretly for the next group of players without alerting the school.
They couldn’t damage the tables or chairs in the Reflection Hall. Even using the pens inside was limited—only two or three could be used, and Ji Zeming had already tried scratching the surface with a pen tip, but it left no mark.
Ji Zeming muttered to himself, “What do we do? Are we going to fail without accomplishing anything?”
“No, no, we have to prepare for them. Every second tomorrow will be a matter of life and death. If we’re even a second late, they might miss seeing how the memories are transferred.”
Just as Ji Zeming was at a loss, Ling Xiao stepped onto a desk and ran his hand across the ceiling.
Ji Zeming was stunned for a moment, then clenched his teeth. “Even if we have to use our nails, we’ll carve out what they need.”
That night, they were locked in for two hours. No one knew what they were doing in the black mist, quietly and relentlessly, wave after wave.
When the director of student affairs came to let them out, she found two boys who might have fought again in the Reflection Hall. One of them had a nosebleed that wouldn’t stop, and the room was filled with the faint smell of blood.
The director of student affairs was furious. If it weren’t for the fact that they had exams the next day, she would have locked them up for another hour. “Get out of here and go to sleep!”
They walked out with their hands in their pockets or behind their backs.
What the director of student affairs didn’t know was that it wasn’t arrogance—many of them had pockets filled with bloodied fingernails they had torn off.
The ceiling bore the bloodstains of all the players from the previous night, except for Ling Xiao.
In the cracks and grooves nourished by these bloodstains, Hong Zhenjiang smashed through the circular opening they had marked with just four punches.
The petite Lin Jiaze pressed her right hand against a desk for leverage and immediately leaped through the hole.
Time was critical. The second floor had only two rooms, small and exposed.
She didn’t have time to check if there were any guards upstairs. As soon as she jumped up, she sprinted toward the only closed door on the second floor.
Hong Zhenjiang poked his head through the hole. “Lin Jiaze, there are guards!”
A long, sharp black vine whip cut through the air, aiming for the tear-streaked girl. Lin Jiaze kicked off the wall, using the momentum to flip through the air. She executed a nimble somersault, dodging the whip, and landed steadily before continuing to run.
Gui Sheng: “Hurry up! There are students on the second floor. We’re short on hands!”
Gui Sheng: “Catch that girl!”
Two guards were on the second floor, their black vine whips lashing out relentlessly, blocking Lin Jiaze’s path.
Lin Jiaze dodged the whips with agility and speed, but two more security guards suddenly appeared. As she sidestepped one whip, another shot toward her forehead.
A figure stepped in front of her, and blood splattered into her tear-filled eyes.
Then another.
And another, charging headfirst into the guard in front of them.
More and more amnesiac players emerged from the hole, shielding her from the whips.
“Don’t be afraid!”
“We’ve got you!”
“Zeze, don’t be scared!”
“We’ll protect you!”
Lin Jiaze wiped the blood and tears from her eyes, took a running start, and used the shoulders of a kneeling amnesiac player as a springboard. She leaped toward the door.
Hong Zhenjiang had asked if the amnesiac players could help them distract and block the guards.
Lin Jiaze had told him they could.
Because she had seen the player whose body was covered in carved names. Despite being hurt over and over, he still followed the male player who had once taken care of him.
There was even a time in the small grove when he was pinned to the ground by another player. Just as he was about to struggle, the player told him not to scream, and he obediently stopped, closing his eyes in despair as they carved words into his skin.
Lu Yue had said that for amnesiac players, whose minds were blank and who were completely unfamiliar with and fearful of the world, the players who first introduced them to the world and stayed by their side held a special significance.
Lin Jiaze simply saw it as a combination of imprinting and other emotions.
Even when hurt, the amnesiac players would instinctively and stubbornly stay close to those who had guided them.
It was like when she was a child. No matter how much her mother cursed or hit her, she would still follow behind her, crying softly, for a long, long time.
She believed this firmly and empathetically.
They would protect the two of them.
Simply because, when they had first lost their memories, those two had stuck name tags on them, told them their names and other information, taken them back to the dorm to sleep, and reassured them not to be afraid.
Tears streaming down her face, Lin Jiaze kicked with all her might at the tightly shut black door.
Gui Sheng: “Boom!—”
Gui Sheng: “Ahhh! How did someone kick the door open?!”
