Chapter 37.1 ?

When he received the message, he was trying to pry open a door.

Although he knew that this behavior itself was meaningless—the door behind still led to another door. Even if he really pried open the door and got out, he would still find no exit. The only thing he could see would be a room identical to the one he was currently in.

Room after room, like an endless nightmare. The room had everything, but everything was strange. The mirrors were broken, the doors were locked, and the walls were full of scratch marks.

He couldn’t remember how long he had been trapped, nor the reason for his entrapment. He couldn’t even remember his own name, didn’t know who he was, or what he was supposed to do once he got out.

But he had to escape.

There was no reason, this thought just kept circling in his mind.

Just being in such an exitless room, the existence of this thought seemed ridiculous, often followed only by frustration and fatigue—probably anger too. At least he thought he should have been angry about it, and also scared and collapsed. But time had passed too long, and he had forgotten.

Even so, he was still diligently prying at the door. Praying at every door he could see.

He had a vague feeling that more important than “escaping” might be the thought itself. Once he gave up even that, he really had nothing left.

The computer in the room occasionally conveyed similar messages to him. It was a desktop computer that came with the room. Because of loneliness, he kept it on all the time. The computer had a pre-installed chat software, and anonymous people often suddenly popped up, sending him some very life-like articles, or talking to him unilaterally.

Most of the time, what was sent were mockery or curses, or unsettling bizarre sentences; but very occasionally, there would be a completely different tone, telling him that there were still people outside waiting for him, and he could try to hold on a little longer.

He didn’t know if those messages were true, but he was sure he once believed them. He also once regarded those messages as his lifeline, waiting year after year with his computer, grasping every chance to call for help, pleading and hoping with text and voice; but slowly, as so many messages sank without a trace, that urgency gradually extinguished like an oxygen-deprived flame.

“No one will save me”—he finally realized this at some point.

A very bad fact. But realizing this was a good thing. It meant he would no longer have any extra expectations for other things, and accordingly, there would be no more disappointment or despair. The content of those messages also became irrelevant to him. Whether curses or encouragements, they no longer made any difference to him or had any meaning…

Staring at the new message that popped up on the screen, his expression froze for a moment.

His long-stiffened eyebrows unconsciously lifted. He looked at the message, restarted the computer, and then looked again.

Confirmed, it wasn’t a hallucination.

So… what event? What demolition office? Why are these all things he’s never seen before?

And it’s so long, really long…

For him now, it was difficult to understand such a long message. Fortunately, he tried hard, and he roughly understood the meaning.

Collect text and… leave?

Is this some new way to mock him? Like if he did it, in the end, they would send another message saying “Don’t be stupid, you will never escape”? Or some trap to deceive him into reading those bizarre texts?

He wasn’t sure. And didn’t know if he should take it seriously. But he could feel that just because of this inexplicable message, some long-lost thing emerged from his chest again, like embers blown by the wind, faintly glowing.

So, after a brief silence, he eventually got up hesitantly and started collecting various “texts” as instructed by the message.

There were actually quite a few of these things, like fruits in an orchard, everywhere you looked. He usually deliberately hid or tore up most of them to avoid seeing them, which made finding them now a bit troublesome. It took him about a few minutes to finally find seven or eight sheets.

He sat by the bed, copying and sending out those texts one by one according to the rules.

He knew these weren’t good things. He forced himself not to think while copying, treating himself as an emotionless typing machine. Even so, some sentences still uncontrollably broke into his mind—

?Do not interact with others you see. They are fake, they have no heads.?

?Rats are a higher form of evolution, they are the sons of butterflies. Butterflies have the most beautiful patterns. They are the mother of everyone.?

?Believe in butterflies. Devoutly believe. When you acknowledge them, they will come dancing in colorful light to greet you.?

?You can try to open the door. But behind the door, there is no exit. It is an endless nightmare.?

?The Bichon here is really beautiful!?

Him:…

His typing paused. What Bichon?

Hesitating for a moment, he decided to ignore the question and continued copying the rest.

However, after copying a few more sentences, another bold red sentence jumped into his vision.

?The stairs are a young yet sincere intestine.?

?The elevator is the gentle smile of a young man in white.?

What kind of perverted place am I trapped in?

At this moment, he couldn’t help but deeply ponder this question.

And soon, his attention was diverted again—after sending the content, he immediately received a confirmation message, still signed by the “Urban Legend Demolition Office”. About ten minutes later, the content on the paper actually changed.

——?Do not interact with others you see. They are fake, they are Xingtian.? (t/n: Xingtian is a headless giant in chinese mythology).

——?Rats are a higher form of evolution, they are the father of butterflies. Butterflies wear water-red cheongsams. They are the mother of rats.?

——?Believe in butterflies. Dialectically believe. When you acknowledge them, they will carry a blue-bottomed, white-flowered bundle, beautifully coming to greet you.?

——?You can try to open the door. But behind the door, there is no door. It is a dream of a time-traveling girl going home.?

What… is all this?

He couldn’t help scratching his head, feeling that this already inexplicable world suddenly became even more confusing.

Speaking of which, what did that event notice say again?

——?If you find the sent words change, please immediately re-examine the current room to see if an exit has appeared.?