Collège Tiannan

Chapitre 1

Chapter One: People

1. Main Building

"Luckily, I'm graduating soon," I mumbled to Blind Liu. "Just over a year left, and I can leave this awful place." We were standing in front of the main building as we said this. Workers, scattered across the building, were busily tiling the mottled walls. The tiles gleamed strangely in the sunlight; they weren't pure white, but rather pale.

Blind Liu pushed up his glasses, neither agreeing nor disagreeing with what I said. The thing he cherished most was his 800-degree glasses. If he lost them, he would almost lose half his life. So everyone in the college who knew him called him Blind Liu, while the people in our dorm would sometimes jokingly call him Vulgar, even though we all knew in our hearts that this guy probably hadn't even given his first kiss.

This building before us has a long history. Since the school's founding, this towering structure has stood like a silent giant on this desolate land, a testament to the school's growth—having undergone numerous renovations and alterations, its interior resembles a complex labyrinth. When you see the lights twinkling on the top floor in the long darkness, you might think you've stepped into the realm of demons. But in fact…

"You're actually glad you can't see this building, aren't you?" Blind Liu suddenly asked me coldly. His glasses reflected the colorful sunlight, dazzling my eyes. I didn't answer, continuing to look up at the heavy boom of the crane in the distance, slowly extending, with tons of mortar hanging below, climbing towards the top floor. The iron trough full of mortar looked like a giant biscuit, swaying in mid-air.

I considered his question for a moment, then turned around and stared at his face, as flat and stiff as a metal trough. "Ha. You know, I never study in this building. All the subjects I failed were because I didn't want to come to classes here, so I got a terrible failing grade. Because I don't like it here, I feel..."

A faint, cracking sound interrupted my explanation. I saw what had suddenly happened behind me through Blind Liu's eyes. In his suddenly contracted pupils, I saw the steel cable, which should have been incredibly strong, slide down the long hydraulic rod like a vicious serpent, a full trough of mud and grime cascading down like a waterfall. When I turned around again, the filthy, gray soil had completely submerged the flowerbed below, along with the quietly blooming flowers and lush weeds. It looked like a graveyard. Yes, a graveyard.

My face and Blind Liu's turned deathly pale at the same time, almost as pale as the scattered tiles on the floor. We knew very well that the flower bed, piled up like a lonely grave, was where Chen Wenwen had fallen.

2 Chen Wenwen

Actually, Chen Wenwen is a very good girl. By "very good," I don't mean her figure or looks, but rather her heart. Although she's not particularly beautiful, she has a unique talent, enjoying writing pieces that blend soft charm with a touch of melancholy, making her quite well-known in the department. While I don't particularly like Eileen Chang, I must admit that her writing has a certain air of incense smoke.

However, all of that is in the past. One morning two months ago, a girl who was up early to study found herself lying limply face down on a flower bed in front of the main building. The hedge next to her was splattered with a dark and intense red, like the gloomy sky of a winter night with thick clouds. And beside her, several brightly colored flowers were blooming fiercely, adorned with the morning dew.

Neither Liu nor I witnessed the scene. The only eyewitness in our department was Ding Pao, a rather eccentric guy—his surname was Ding, a single-celled organism that's easily ignited, hence his name. He usually boasted of being fearless, but when he came back that morning, he couldn't even climb up to the top bunk. He sat on my bed trembling uncontrollably, his thin shirt soaked with cold sweat.

“She just lay there… I saw her eyes… and those flowers…” Some time later, Ding Pao’s neurotic voice echoed in the dormitory, which suddenly seemed incredibly empty, during a late-night chat. I huddled under the covers, imagining that chilly early spring morning, and those flowers that quietly bloomed and then abruptly withered.

For a whole month after that, no one in the entire department went to the main building to study; they even avoided it when walking. But Wang Ergui from the Basic Courses Department stubbornly refused to listen and insisted that we go to the main building for his boring statistics course. I once suggested to him on behalf of the whole class that we change classrooms, but this bastard roared at me like a thunderbolt, cursing every god and Buddha in heaven and earth. Finally, he added fuel to the fire by shouting: "If you don't want to go to the main building, that's fine too, but whether you go or not, you're definitely going to fail your statistics course at the end of the semester." If it weren't for Blind Liu dragging me away at that moment, he might have been the first to die after Chen Wenwen—those three years of Sanda and Taekwondo training weren't for nothing.

Since that incident, I've developed a particular interest in the data statistics course. I always like to sit in the front rows, not listening to the lecture, but just staring intently at Wang Ergui, listening to the powerful clash between the anger in his eyes and the mocking look in mine. However, I sometimes still feel inexplicably uneasy, not because of Wang Ergui who seems to want to devour me, but because of the huge and somber building I'm in.

3 two ghosts

Ergui, whose real name was Wang Kui, was of humble origin and the second son in his family. He stayed on as a teacher at the university despite only having an undergraduate degree. Rumor had it that he had been accepted into a prestigious university's graduate program, but due to financial constraints, he couldn't afford it and had to give up. In this respect, I felt quite sorry for him—I was also from a poor family and knew the pain of wanting something but being unable to afford it. However, there's always a reason for someone's misfortune. Although everyone acknowledged his exceptional talent, his terrible temper destined him to be the object of many people's curses.

It's said that Ergui (Second Ghost) always lacked emotional control, and after failing to get into graduate school, he became even worse. His violent temper was infamous in the basic studies department; even the headmaster avoided him. Any student who dared to defy him invariably met a bad end. According to a senior student, the most outrageous incident was when he threw a student who challenged him out of the research office window—although the office was on the first floor, that guy must have been badly injured. The worst part was that arguing with Ergui often resulted in swallowing one's anger and suffering: after all, he was young and promising, married to the principal's daughter. A powerful figure is invincible; this is an undeniable truth.

But I don't care about any of that, because I've completely given up on the idea of getting a diploma here and going home. Of course, if you failed seven courses in three years, you'd feel the same way. The reason I haven't been expelled is because my failure rate has been relatively even each year; and the reason I'm staying here is because I always feel there's something I still cherish about school, though I can't quite put my finger on it. I admit that, in the current situation, I've let my parents down, but I want to prove that a person's ability doesn't lie in some damn diploma. I like metal music and martial arts, but that doesn't mean I'm a simple-minded idiot—in my eyes, those who think I'm an idiot are the idiots themselves.

With a loud bang, Wang Ergui slammed the door shut and stormed off—his classic farewell after class. Amid the chaos of people packing up, I stood up, stretched, and turned to ask Blind Liu, who was sitting behind me, "Ding Pao didn't come again today, did he?"

"Well, I think he's planning to follow in your footsteps." Blind Liu stuffed his pen into his bag expressionlessly and answered dryly, "He's pretty crazy, although he's always been crazy, but he's still a bit off from being as crazy as you."

"Speaking of which, don't you think this building is a bit strange?" I picked my nose, but stared at Blind Liu's big glasses. "Legend has it that several unbelievable things at our school happened here. It's pretty mysterious."

"What does it matter to me whether it's mysterious or not? If anything, you can only praise the Qing emperors for their foresight in choosing this place as their burial site. We might all be sacrificial offerings, after all, this place is right next to the mausoleum."

I pulled my finger out of my nostril, a chill running down my spine. Indeed, our school was very close to Qingling, an area historically known for accidents and murders. Although I didn't really believe in feng shui, the strange tales I'd heard over the past three years—enough to fill half a day's story—made me believe this place was indeed quite eerie.

"By the way, did you hear what Ergui just said?" Xia Liu patted my shoulder and gave a very unfriendly dry laugh. "Starting next week, our data statistics will be moved to 407."

Classroom 407 is where Chen Wenwen jumped.

4 Dingpao

"No way! No way! No way! No way! I'd rather die than go!!" Just as I expected, Ding Pao's shouts echoed throughout the entire hallway when he heard the devastating news that the data statistics had been changed to room 407. The sight of the tall, 1.8-meter-tall man trembling didn't seem particularly funny to us: everyone was afraid of that room; it exuded a strange, chilling aura that went straight to the bone.

"That's enough, cannonball." The kind-hearted leader patted him on the shoulder. "Don't forget that if you fail another one, you won't have a degree. This is going to class, not to the execution ground. What are you afraid of getting eaten by something in broad daylight?"

"Forget it, I'm terrified of that place. I'll never step into that building again in my life. I'm so scared I'm practically scarened to death. You guys haven't seen it, you have no idea what's going on. I'm lucky I'm even here in this school. I really want to pack my bags and quit. This school is so weird..."

I was too lazy to listen to his rambling, so I strode over and kicked him in the butt: "You call yourself a Northeastern man? You're a disgrace. I can go to class even though I have an irreconcilable feud with Wang Ergui, so why can't you go? You're spineless. I might as well kick you to death."

Ding Pao rubbed his buttocks, staring at me with a resentful look. This 1.86-meter-tall Northeastern man's courage in the face of this mysterious phenomenon was quite disproportionate to his physique: in his freshman year, he needed someone to accompany him to the bathroom at night, and after being beaten up countless times throughout the year, he finally mastered the unparalleled skill of holding his pee until dawn; he never went out at night, preferring to chat and play cards in his dorm like a little girl; and most intolerable of all, he was an avid horror movie lover, especially suspense. So when he screamed while clutching his computer monitor, we pounced on him and grabbed his neck. After a few rounds, our eardrums and his throat had received a thorough workout, to the point that later, when he watched movies, we were all fine—the whole floor came to our dorm to strangle him…

After witnessing the fall, Ding Pao's already fragile mental defenses seemed to weaken even further. He hasn't attended a single class scheduled for the main building this semester, and he goes to bed early every night with earplugs plugged in. However, I, who often come home late, always see him tossing and turning in his sleep, like a small animal ready to leap away at any moment.

Right now, this big lump is slumped on the bed, muttering something under its breath. I sighed: "Should I tell you that your psychological problems have reached their peak? You..."

"Don't think you're so much better than me!" Ding Pao suddenly became agitated, pointing a trembling finger at my nose. "Do you know what you talk about in your sleep at night? You're more afraid of that place than anyone else! Stop acting so arrogant. I may be afraid, but what about you? Can you honestly say you're not?"

I can't see my own face, but I can imagine it must not look good. I admit that the shadow of intuition always looms over my mind, but I don't want to show it: if a group doesn't have someone with a firm stance, everyone will immediately collapse. And I'm an unconventional person, so…

"What makes you think I'm afraid?" I stepped forward, looking directly into Ding Pao's weakened face. He swallowed hard, but his fingers didn't lower: "What makes you think you're not afraid?"

The people around me looked at each other in bewilderment. The eldest and the youngest in the dorm, Tian Momo, stepped in to smooth things over: "Alright, alright, what's all this fuss about..." I reached out to stop them and said, word by word, "You all know that the main building has no power restrictions, right? Tomorrow is Saturday and I don't have classes. Tonight, I'll spend the night in 407. I will prove myself."

The air in the room seemed to freeze suddenly. Ding Pao and the blind Liu sitting next to him stared at me blankly without saying a word, and everyone else was silent as well. I suddenly felt like an abandoned fool.

Saving face can sometimes be quite harmful.

5 407

It's 11 PM. I'm sitting in the back window seat of 407, changing into my fourth CD, staring down at my vocabulary book, but my mind is completely blank. It's already May, but the northern night wind still carries a chill. I button up my jacket, which I just put on, and continue spacing out—coming to this truly godforsaken place to study English on Friday night is definitely not my thing…

I know I have a terrible temper: while I'm usually easygoing and generally agreeable to requests, I can't stand being provoked, and I act impulsively without considering the consequences. Although I try my best to control myself, old habits die hard, and today is a perfect example. "Fuck. Others' misdeeds can be forgiven, but self-inflicted misdeeds are unforgivable," I cursed under my breath, forcing myself to focus on the deafening black metal in my ears. COB was screaming like mad: "Bodom after midnight, Bodom after midnight yeahhhhhhhhh..." I suddenly remembered that the band Children of Bodom's name came from the infamous Lake Boden massacre in Finland (on June 5, 1960, four teenagers camping at Lake Boden on the outskirts of Helsinki were mysteriously murdered; one survivor went insane), and a chill ran down my spine.

By around 10 PM, almost everyone in the classroom had left—in fact, aside from a few bookworms seeking peace and quiet, few people wanted to stay in a study room where someone had died. When the room was almost completely empty, the chill became even more pronounced. I stared intently at the desk next to my vocabulary book, my ears filled with the sharp clanging of metal. My thoughts were in turmoil. I found myself pondering some inexplicable questions: Chen Wenwen, while not exactly optimistic, wasn't suicidal either; why would she end her life like this…? Since the incident, almost everyone in Chen Wenwen's dormitory had disappeared; some reportedly dropped out due to the shock… Rumor had it that someone had committed suicide in this classroom before… Chen Wenwen died in the early morning, and this deserted building was the perfect place for suicide…

My gaze was suddenly drawn to something. Right to my right, a huge "D" lay crookedly on the table. The maker had clearly put a lot of effort into carving it with a red ballpoint pen, leaving marks around it where the strokes had been off. I instinctively moved my right hand away and saw the words behind it:

"DEATH is the beginning of PAIN."

I jerked my hand up as if I'd been burned, cold sweat beading on my forehead. Before I could even recover, my phone buzzed in my pocket, startling me again. I wiped the sweat from my brow, pulled out my phone, and saw it was a text from that shameless little bastard Tian Momo: "How was tonight? Did a seductive female ghost keep you company?"

"Sleep well, you little devil, your old man is watching over you. Gently climb into bed, you wicked old hag~" I changed the lyrics of the lullaby and sent it to him, secretly cursing the kid. Then I looked up and moved the vocabulary book over that line of text to cover it up, only to find that there were also a few words left in the original place of the book:

"It is easy to go from life to death, but difficult to go from death to life. To live towards death is what I desire; to die because of life is what I grieve for."

The characters were carved shallowly, and the handwriting was so messy that they were almost illegible. Just as I was about to examine them more closely, the lights went out without warning. The entire study room was plunged into darkness.

The night wind sent a chill down my spine. I struggled to pull out my headphones; my ears, saturated with metal music, were a little dull. Suddenly, the wind picked up, scattering pens and notebooks across the floor with a clatter. I reached into my pocket with my sweaty hands to pull out my lighter, only to find it impossible to light in the wind. So I grabbed the windowsill and struggled to my feet, reaching to close the window, but my leg slammed into the table with a thud, hurting terribly.

Just then, a cold, eerie green light floated up before me. My tongue seemed to be stuck in my throat, for I realized I couldn't make a sound. I could only watch in terror as the dim light slowly drifted in the air, drawing closer and closer until it was only an arm's length away. A snow-white face of a young girl emerged from the green light, with dark, empty eyes. I stared intently at that face, my hands frozen as if welded to a window. Under the green light, her breathing seemed uneven—wait? She was breathing?

What happened next can be described as a "twist and turn". Although recognizing her in the dim light didn't feel much better than encountering a ghost, a living person with breath is always much better than a ghost. She was Fruit Fly, the "coldest" girl in Chen Wenwen's dormitory.

6. Fruit flies

Fruit Fly's real name is Guo Yingying. Besides this nickname, she has many other names: "Iron Girl," "Cool Girl," and so on. It's no wonder; such a beautiful yet taciturn girl is rare. She seems unsociable, rarely seen participating in group activities, preferring to stay quietly somewhere listening to music and reading. Once, a boy in her freshman year confessed his love to her with a large bouquet of roses, but while he accepted the flowers, he was ignored. After that, nothing like that happened again.

So it's understandable that some people become extremely jealous when they mention her: the grapes that can't be reached naturally evoke a sense of sourness. I don't know much about her, just that I'm acquainted with her, and we've probably exchanged a couple of words in the past three years—maybe more, but I've forgotten. After Chen Wenwen's fall, her roommates have all been staying home, but right now, she's still in this ominous study room, which feels rather strange.

The green light on her hand went out. In the instant before it disappeared, I saw that the light had come from her phone. I suddenly felt a little embarrassed: I almost screamed in fright. How embarrassing would it be if word got out, especially since I'd been startled by such a frail-looking girl…

"What are you doing?" she finally spoke, breaking the unbearable silence. Her voice was clear but devoid of emotion, seemingly mixed with a hint of hatred and disgust.

"Shouldn't I be asking you that?" I retorted, though I felt a little guilty about what I said. "Trying to be brave here so late at night?"

The fruit fly didn't answer. By the light streaming in from the window, I could vaguely see a hint of disdain in her eyes. After a moment, she sighed softly, then turned and walked towards the front of the classroom, leaving me there alone.

"As expected of his reputation for arrogance, hmph." I had calmed down and thought to myself. The CD player was still spinning; I reached out and turned it off, then sat down. Strands of hair fluttered around my ears. I took off the hair tie and slowly gathered my long hair, which I had grown for my metal faith, in my hands, unconsciously chanting: "To live towards death is what I desire; to die because of life is what I grieve for..."

The fruit fly suddenly froze. For a moment, she seemed about to collapse, having to reach out and grab the table beside her. After a long while, she let out a long breath, then abruptly turned and walked towards me again—or perhaps "pounced" would be more accurate. Before I could even understand what was happening, her hands had already grabbed my collar. My hands were still tangled in my hair, completely unable to react to her sudden attack. Although I could easily shake her off, her heavy, rapid breathing and the angry glint in her eyes left me quite bewildered.

"Tell me, where did you learn those words?" I could almost hear the sparks flying from her teeth. Based on experience, I knew I shouldn't mess with a raging woman, so I told her the truth: "Just now."

"You...you bastard, she's dead, why would she tell you?" Fruit Fly's voice became somewhat out of control. Those words had the same effect on me as a side kick to the face; I instantly understood their meaning. Taking advantage of her weakened state, I grabbed her hands and forcefully separated them, then straightened my back and legs to stand up, simultaneously pressing my upper body down.

The situation changed in an instant. One moment I was at their mercy, and the next I held the absolute initiative. I pinned the fruit fly firmly to the table, and I could even smell its sweet breath. But I had no time for pity; instead, I was extremely interested in it—well, even though it was dark, please don't get the wrong idea…

"How did Chen Wenwen die?" I gripped her thin, slender hands tightly, staring fiercely at her face. Her jaw clenched, her bright eyes fixed on me without fear. Her chest heaved rapidly, clearly struggling to control her emotions. I slightly loosened my grip, then tightened my hold. She let out a soft cry, clear tears welling in her eyes. Without a shred of pity, I continued to tighten my fingers until she cried out again, two tears sliding down her cheeks.

"I'll ask you one more time, what exactly happened with Chen Wenwen? My patience is running out," I asked calmly. Her throat gurgled a few times, finally realizing she was in a completely disadvantageous position. So she said something that felt like another whip kick to my face:

"Chen Wenwen is pregnant."

7 signs

This is getting more and more bizarre, I thought. I scrutinized the fruit fly's face, and she didn't seem to be exaggerating. But I still needed to verify further: "You're not joking, are you?" The tearful fruit fly answered without hesitation: "I wouldn't joke about dead people."

I let out a sigh of relief, loosening my grip, and the fruit fly took the opportunity to break free. Her body writhed restlessly beneath me: "Get up, don't press me down like that." I felt my face burning, so I took a half-step back, completely relinquishing control of her. The fruit fly suddenly sat up, rubbing her wrist, staring at me for a few seconds, then raised her hand and delivered a resounding slap, making my vision blur.

Thankfully, I hadn't lost my senses and managed to grab her hand just as her second slap was about to land. I heard the sound of knuckles scraping together, and she cried out in pain again, "You bastard!"

"What are you making such a racket in the middle of the night?" I shouted in a low voice. "If we attract attention, it'll be dark and we'll be all alone together, and neither of us will be able to explain ourselves clearly."

She stood there for a long while, then wiped away her tears with her other hand and remained silent. A woman is a woman after all; even the proudest woman is essentially the same. I let go of her hand, took out a cigarette from my pocket, lit it, and took a deep drag: "Calm down. Tell me what you know."

The fruit fly reverted to her indifferent demeanor, looking at me with disdain, and after rubbing her wrist for a while, she finally spoke: "Why should I tell you?"

"If you don't want Chen Wenwen to have died in vain." I didn't care about her tone at all; I just wanted to know the truth behind this matter.

She brushed the smoke away from her face, hesitated for a moment, and said, "Okay. But..."

"I won't tell anyone, I won't." Am I really as stupid as I look? Damn it, I thought to myself.

I quickly learned what Fruit Fly knew: Chen Wenwen seemed popular, but in reality, she had very few friends. Fruit Fly was one of her confidants, though they both knew this communication was reserved. In the period leading up to the incident, Chen Wenwen had become noticeably depressed and was missing more and more classes. It wasn't until one morning when Fruit Fly saw her vomiting in the bathroom that he learned she was pregnant. Chen Wenwen didn't want to tell Fruit Fly the whole story, so Fruit Fly didn't press her, only advising her to have an abortion. But Chen Wenwen seemed unwilling to do so, and Fruit Fly was very worried for her. But shortly after, Chen Wenwen died…

"It's said she jumped from here. Since then, I've often come here, hoping to find some trace of her..." Fruit Fly choked up, unable to continue.

"So, you have some doubts about this so-called fall?" I lit my third cigarette and asked slowly, "Were there any special signs before she died?"

The fruit fly lowered its head and thought for a while: "No... at least I don't remember. But after she died, when we were sorting through her things, I found a note in her English exercise book. It had those words you just mentioned, 'To live towards death is what I desire; to die because of life is what I grieve for.' So... that's why I reacted so strongly just now."

I grabbed her hand and pulled her off the table, then took out my lighter and lit it near the writing: "Take a look, isn't this her handwriting?" The fruit fly examined it carefully for a while and said with certainty, "This is her handwriting."

"It seems there's definitely a reason behind this." I put away my lighter and took another deep drag of my cigarette. "Who are she usually close to?"

“I can’t say for sure—she’s quite a few guys who are close to her.” Fruit Fly frowned, seemingly with an inexplicable aversion. “I’m not good at these things…”

Unfortunately, I'm not exactly an expert at picking up rich guys or chasing girls. My life revolves around books and music, far removed from the things these men and women are obsessed with. "It seems we'll have to investigate. You're sure there's more to Chen Wenwen's death than meets the eye, right?"

The fruit fly's eyes reddened again: "Yes. She once told me that she hated those men, that they were scum, worse than animals. Because I didn't know the details, I could only hear her say it angrily, but I believe she had a reason for saying that. She also said..."

"Alright, alright," I interrupted. "Think carefully about what you talked about with her, and then we'll discuss this further. It's so dark here, and it's an ominous place, we..."

With a loud bang, the classroom door was flung open by the wind from the corridor, and a biting gust of wind roared through the air, whipping my loosely tied hair into a mess. The windows rattled and swayed in the wind. Fruit Fly shrieked, clinging to my arm and trembling, "She...she heard it...she heard it!"

Split

I composed myself and walked towards the door. The fruit fly followed behind me, clutching my right hand like a bruised kitten. Her fingers were cold and stiff, like an iron clamp around my wrist, making me a little uneasy. Finally reaching the door, I hooked my foot on the wooden door pressed tightly against the wall, then forcefully pulled the door back and closed it, locking the latch. The draft inside immediately subsided considerably.

“It’s just the wind, nothing…” I turned my head and only managed to utter a few words before my tongue tied in knots. Before me was a deathly pale face, its former beauty completely gone. Her wide-open eyes were filled with an empty, blank stare, and a trickle of blood slowly flowed from her purple lips. The fruit fly’s hands were embedded in the muscles of my wrist, as if welded firmly to me. She murmured to herself, “She’s dead…she was calling those people…she hated…”

"Fuuuuuuuck!" I don't know where the strength came from, but I yelled out, instinctively tripping the fruit fly's stiff body and making it stumble. My right hand swung around to pull her down, while my left hand went straight for her throat. The girl's smooth, delicate skin on her neck felt wonderful—but this wasn't the time to think about that! I felt my hand tighten: Wait, she had feet when I tripped her, meaning she wasn't a ghost; no, her face was fucking terrifying; but when I held her down, nothing seemed wrong, she was a living person with body temperature; so why were her hands so cold now; but if she were a ghost, pinching her would be pointless…

Damn it! I forced myself to open my left hand and shoved her away forcefully. She still held onto my right hand tightly, trembling as she swayed. I suddenly remembered a half-baked trick and twisted her philtrum with two fingers: "Wake up, you stinking woman! Evil spirits, begone!" (Hmm, a last-minute addition, but it seems to work better this way...) Her body convulsed violently as if electrocuted, then suddenly straightened up. I shuddered, but still didn't loosen my grip on her upper lip; instead, she shook off my right hand.

Then, with lightning speed, another slap landed on my face. It was a really hard slap; it made me stagger, and the hand dropped. I covered my face and yelled, "What the hell are you doing, you son of a bitch!"

The fruit fly watched me coldly from a few steps away, then looked down at her own hand. She seemed to sense something was wrong and wiped her mouth with her hand: "Oops, I'm bleeding." She looked up at my grimacing face, then resumed her usual icy expression: "What are you touching?"

I was furious: this woman must be out of her mind! But I forced myself to calm down, because I felt this wasn't so simple. Both Chen Wenwen and the fruit fly in front of me were definitely hiding something. Thinking this, I rubbed my face, straightened my back, and licked the inside of my cheek (it was hot and swollen, damn it!), trying to ask calmly, "Fruit fly, do you ever feel like you're losing time?"

Upon hearing this, her expression turned incredulous again: "You...how did you know?"