The owner of the diary was trying hard to reveal sothing.
But the diary hadn’t ended, the handwriting from the following few days seed a bit ssy.
"June 26th, clear skies."
"I am Zhou Haoran, 45 years old, 1.73 ters tall, with a mature-looking face. I asured my height and found that I had grown a centiter taller, unbelievable."
"I rember I attempted suicide yesterday? But it was unsuccessful."
"That cyanide must have been fake, quite a challenge I set for myself—how could there be cyanide in a hospital? It’s obviously fake. The so-called suicide, just a joke. Why would I kill myself when I’m perfectly fine?"
"Oh, right, I actually don’t have the habit of keeping a diary, do I?"
Wang Hao wiped sweat from his brow, sowhat concerned about the guy’s ntal state.
"...What exactly did I do yesterday, whether the cyanide was real or fake, it’s impossible to tell now."
"But I’m pretty sure I get the point I wanted to make—this crazy world, I really don’t want to stay in it for a second longer."
"Or maybe, make a bomb with nitroglycerin, pull off sothing big?"
The next diary entry jumped eight months ahead.
This guy seed to have really gotten lazy about writing in his diary, quietly brewing sothing.
"February 2nd, cloudy."
"I spent eight months using the materials within the hospital, accumulating enough nitroglycerin. Watch out! I’m definitely going to pull off sothing big! I certainly will! I certainly will! I certainly will!"
"Of course, I’m bound to fail, aren’t I?"
Then there was a sketch, which included a drawing of a Labrador.
(I don’t know why, but I really love dogs.)
The date of the following diary entry had skipped another week.
But the handwriting had subtly changed, possibly written by the sa person, and yet it was sowhat neater than the past entries.
"February 9th, clear skies."
"Bomb plan..."
"The plan was discovered by security, luckily, they didn’t find out it was who placed it. So, I escaped back to my office."
"This is what my factual mory tells ."
"Do I really have such courage? Blowing up the hospital, don’t make laugh, a homade bomb would at best create a small pit."
"I don’t know, I don’t understand, I’m probably just a coward. I choose to work seriously here, not seeking to know more truths. Ignorance is bliss, better not to know too much."
"But I noticed sothing strange—a neurologist in her forties nad Feng Ling, actually resigned and left the hospital."
"I completely don’t understand how she did it ... she ..."
"There are interesting people apart from just , aren’t there?"
Wang Hao frowned.
This "Feng Ling," is she the sa "Feng Ling" I took over? Why... in her forties? Shouldn’t she be a young woman in her twenties?
Facing this eerie notebook, Wang Hao’s scalp tingled, his heart was "thumping" erratically, feeling as if he himself was about to be contaminated by madness.
A bewildering diary, in fact full of explosive information!
The diary continued on:
"... I keep thinking, what kind of person am I? Genius and fool are only separated by a thin line."
"The old , must have been a person with a spirit of adventure, right?"
"Exploration is always difficult, I want to explore, I must face this adversary. But the adversary, in fact, doesn’t understand us."
"Because of the adversary, I scrutinize myself, because of the adversary, I understand myself, because of the adversary, I beco a stronger . Hello, my adversary, one day, I will beco a better ."
"A that can defeat the adversary."
"If I have the courage to commit suicide, then read on, if not, just work hard and don’t think too much."
Wang Hao flipped through this page and suddenly felt the weight of destiny bearing down on him.
Seas had turned to fields, fields to seas, birds had flown, and hearts had changed.
In this instant,
It all seed to be condensed.
[I investigated the one who left, how she left.
[Strangely enough, her traces are gradually fading, but not completely erased.]
[How did she truly leave?]
[Colleagues believe she was a true genius, possessing fearless courage and firm willpower, and could also co up with so genius ideas.]
[Before she left, she had taken spiritual dication for a long ti, specifics have... (A lot of scratched out text).]
[This is all I managed to investigate, because while writing, I found that I could no longer recognize the color red, a dangerous sign.]
[I must take a good rest for a while, or perhaps, I will beco a stronger .]
[It doesn’t matter anymore, the reading this line must be the stronger , right?]
Here, lies the final Chapter of the diary.
Wang Hao sighed, feeling a trace of respect for this "Zhou Haoran" comrade.
"I’m a stronger ? Not really, I just stand on a higher dinsion, where even if I know more information, my mory won’t be altered."
Humans indeed are a very magical species, life disappears like drifting smoke and clouds, yet it leaves behind its own unique imprint. That must be what they call "historical imprints."
From this diary, one can see that "I" may have died many tis, but sohow "I" ca back to life.
This not knowing how is actually quite terrifying.
Wang Hao blinked and suddenly realized that his entire screen view had turned into just two colors, black and white.
Like a black and white photograph, distinguishable but not clear.
"So that’s it, now I also can’t see red, is this a warning that my sanity level is plumting and I’m about to be attacked... Better hurry, I haven’t done much in this reincarnation cycle yet."
...
Wang Hao got up from his chair, "thumped" downstairs, and asked the logistics team leader about the color issue once more.
It’s not that he had forgotten the cleaning team’s rules... but he wanted to use Paperman to eavesdrop on whether this young man really belonged to an official organization.
Just like the first reincarnation, as soon as he asked his question, the young man ran out to make a phone call.
"Yes, the performance of the archives director today has been a bit odd. He said... he can no longer see the color red," the young man said on the phone, his expression gradually turning gloomy, "No way, is that so? Advise him to rest well."
...
It might be because of his low ability, but the young man didn’t notice there was a piece of paper by his feet.
On it was drawn a Paperman, stealthily listening in on his phone conversation.
"...Only like this now, it seems most reasonable..."
Though the contents of the phone call were cryptic, they hinted that the young man was likely part of the official organization.
"Abnormal Foundation, huh..." Wang Hao pondered for a while.
He was still unclear whether the Feng Ling he had saved was the sa person as the Feng Ling from the hospital.
And if she was, their ages didn’t match up.
When the young man returned from his phone call, Wang Hao directly asked, "Do you know anything about Dr. Feng Ling who resigned?"
"No, not much," the young man promptly replied, "She had left before I joined the work here..."
He kindly reminded, "You may need to rest for a while, don’t think too much these days."
"Otherwise, your symptoms will worsen."
From his body language, it was evident that the guy was a bit nervous?
Old Wang mulled it over and decided not to trouble him further; in a world where talking too much could get you killed, why should humans trouble each other?
"Thank you, I will rest," Wang Hao turned and walked away.
The clues were now as tangled as a ss of thread, puzzles everywhere, but in his heart, Wang Hao had a strange thrill, like a dead pig not fearing boiling water.
In "Cross-dinsional Ga," tasks with one to three stars of difficulty had simpler settings and fewer clues, and one could make it through fairly easily even by process of elimination.
But once the difficulty rose to five stars, it all beca about large, complex scenes.
How to unravel this tangled ss and organize it beca a real craft.
"Watch pull off a real trick!"
He passed by the sanitation worker Miss Chen Xinyi and the talkative security guard comrade Xu Zhijun, both of whom had their mories rewritten, so there really wasn’t much to talk about.
He tossed the Paperman he had made into the ventilation duct.
Under the control of his spiritual power, the Paperman struggled to move through the duct.
Destination: The morgue sealed by the cent wall!
Paperman’s vision wasn’t very good, like a black and white cara’s screen, teeming with pixels.
Fortunately, Paperman seed to have night vision ability and could still make out so things in the pitch-dark environnt.
After several attempts, Paperman finally crawled to the duct area of the morgue.
The view changed dramatically, a black terror filter appeared, and everything around had a kind of black and white halo. The darkness, like ink, enveloped from all directions.
Wang Hao steeled himself, controlling Paperman to jump down from the vent.
Here were rows of refrigerators, cold air spewing relentlessly outwards.
"Could it be that they contain dead bodies? Dead bodies revived."
But Paperman didn’t have the strength to open these refrigerators and couldn’t investigate what was inside.
Wang Hao felt a chill on his back and couldn’t help but move his character to a place bathed in sunlight... although it was futile.
On the west side of the morgue was a large mirror, reflecting an image: a crowd of people holding a wake at the Funeral Parlor!
The movents of this group were lifelike, indistinguishable from real humans...
And then sothing even stranger happened!
In one of the coffins, an old man abruptly ca back to life and triggered a dispute.
Of course, the mirror had no sound, so it was unclear what these people were discussing...
Wang Hao unexpectedly saw the sneaky Pan Hao in the mirror reflection!
This guy looked as if he had witnessed sothing incredible, a look of extre shock on his face, as he scampered away from the Funeral Parlor.
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