"Oh? Is that so? My mory must be terrible — I forgot the mont I heard it."
Cheng Shi smiled and reached out to straighten Crown's collar — the only remotely clean patch on the youth's threadbare cotton jacket. Except the collar had been perfectly fine; Cheng Shi deliberately set it crooked.
And as he moved, two scalpels "accidentally" slid from his left and right sleeves, burying their tips into the ground barely a centiter from Crown's toes. The cracking-ice sound drew cold sweat down Crown's face.
Crown got the picture: these three strangers were not to be trifled with.
But he knew how to read a room. Right now, resistance was futile. So he stayed put and let them do as they pleased.
It wasn't until Cheng Shi clattered out several more scalpels — reducing Crown to trembling legs — that Zhang Jizu sighed and rescued the young man from Cheng Shi's clutches.
"We have more convenient ways to verify your identity. But considering you might be the key... we'll give you a chance.
Repeat after : I am Zhen Xin.
Say it right, and you're free to go."
Crown was terrified. His whole body shook — yet he still clutched his flyers. Looking into Zhang Jizu's slitted eyes, he swallowed his fear and repeated:
"I am Zhen Xin."
A lie. An expected lie.
None of them looked surprised. Cheng Shi glanced at Zhang Jizu with a grin. "You already knew he wasn't Zhen Xin?"
Zhang Jizu gave a pragmatic nod. "Anywhere I can think of, she'd never hide. But we still need to be careful — she had a considerable head start. Since she wasn't at the entrance, she's already inside.
The question is... how many doors deep she's gone."
"Zhang-lao, you think there are doors behind doors?"
Zhang Jizu didn't answer — just nodded. He believed their target lay beyond the Theater's true door. They just didn't know how many doors they'd have to pass through first.
With that thought, Zhang Jizu released Crown. The youth scrambled free, face ashen, and crawl-climbed up the staircase before bolting into the Theater without hesitation.
Three raised eyebrows followed him. When the flyer-youth plunged through the door, iridescent light flashed across the grand entrance — as though a new change had been triggered.
"It really was him." Ai Si nodded and dragged her blade toward the entrance. One step in, she realized both n were staring at her expectantly — volunteering her as the team's guinea pig, yet again.
Her face darkened. But she didn't refuse. With a cold snort, she squeezed through the gap — seemingly determined to at least claim the honor of going first.
After the War Supervisor vanished, Cheng Shi raised a brow. "What I'm curious about now is where the real War Supervisor went. What do you think, Dragon King?"
A glint passed through Zhang Jizu's eyes. He looked at Cheng Shi. "You're certain Li Jingming is here too?"
Cheng Shi tossed him a casual glance. Seeing the denial, he chuckled, patted Zhang Jizu's shoulder, and stepped through the gap first.
Zhang Jizu looked at his patted shoulder, shook his head with a wry smile, and followed.
This trial was getting more interesting by the hour. Deceit and mory intertwined. Lies and truth coexisted. Every identity seed fake — but how much was actually false? Perhaps nobody could say.
When Cheng Shi and Zhang Jizu ca through, Ai Si was already well ahead. The marketplace had transford into a web of narrow streets deep inside the town.
Passersby hurried along, murmuring about "survival" and similar words. Listening as they walked, the three learned that today was San Dales' Day of Gratitude — when residents gave thanks for their survival in this world.
Each month they held a gathering, celebrating the greatness of life. In truth it was nothing more than everyone huddling together for warmth, finding scraps of comfort in an endless winter.
A fine occasion, with sincere hearts all around — but even among the sincere, there were oddballs. Such as... the theater's flyer-distributing actor, Crown.
The young man ignored the crowd's procession. Instead he stood firm on the windswept stairs, handing out his flyers.
Passersby shot him dismissive looks. Not a single person took one. But Crown wasn't fazed — grinning, full of energy.
Until... he spotted the three strangers approaching again. His expression shifted and he clapped his hands over his face, fleeing into the Theater — as though that building was his only safe haven.
The three followed at their own pace, crossing the third door.
The scene changed again. Heavier snow. Fewer people. The town seed to have entered "winter."
Yet even in these brutal conditions, Crown remained at the Theater's entrance, distributing flyers.
This ti, at Cheng Shi's suggestion, they didn't walk straight up to Crown. Instead they bundled into bulky local coats and passed the Theater entrance posing as residents.
As they drew near, Crown was pitching a flyer to a bearded man. The man took it, scanned it, and sighed.
"Little Crown, still drumming up an audience for that boring cody of yours?
Give it up — nobody enjoys your performances. You'd be better off helping in my shop. The pay's way more than the two silver coins people toss your way. What do you say?"
Crown's smile didn't waver. He seed genuinely proud of his profession.
"Tips from the audience are enough for
to survive. Thank you, l Vade. I don't run a theater to make money. I want to spread joy."
"But your jokes don't make people happy — they just make people feel colder."
"They're called cold jokes. It's a new form of cody. I think it has great potential, and I'm planning to introduce it throughout San Dales."
"..." The bearded man gave up persuading him. With a chuckle, he stuffed the flyer back into Crown's arms. "San Dales is cold enough already. Maybe think about how to warm people up instead."
He walked off.
The mont the beard disappeared, Crown's smile froze — literally, in the wind. He turned away, deflated, and trudged back into the Theater.
After three scenes, the Players were beginning to get it. They exchanged looks without a word, then silently followed — continuing to witness this theater actor's... life.
Crown persevered through San Dales' snow and wind, greeting everyone with that relentless smile. And ti after ti, his warmth was t with cold shoulders.
Nobody patronized the Joy Theater. Given the choice between joy and warmth, people chose warmth every ti. They barely had the energy to seek happiness.
Crown never complained — except about his own cody skills, which he felt weren't good enough.
Day after monotonous day, door after identical door — until the three Players' faces went numb. At one point they almost believed they were truly trapped in San Dales' past.
Eventually Ai Si dropped all pretense. She tossed her great sword aside, scratched her head in frustration, and snapped:
"Is this ever going to end?!
Aren't you two sick of this?
Surna Cheng, Zhang Chosen — did we co here to watch a TV drama?"
Neither was surprised by her outburst. Cheng Shi eyed the impatient War Supervisor. "Then leave?"
"..." Ai Si faltered.
'Leave? Impossible. The sunk cost was too high. After squeezing through this many door-cracks, walking away now would be a total loss.'
So they pressed on. And after several more unremarkable "days" — the change finally ca.
It was another Day of Gratitude. With the streets nearly empty, Crown ducked into an alley and slipped into the shadows to relieve himself.
While his back was turned, a manhole cover behind him suddenly flipped open. A stranger dressed in local San Dales clothing scrambled out of the shaft, too rushed to check his surroundings, and hurried away.
The three Players watched from the alley's mouth as the stranger sprinted toward the crowd. A spark finally lit their dulled eyes.
"A Tower of Logic scholar... So this is how they manipulated the town.
But this ti, they slipped up."
Three pairs of eyes turned to the improperly sealed manhole cover.
And at the sa mont, Crown — hiding in another shadow patch, frozen stiff after hearing the noise — quietly turned around and discovered the anomaly behind him.
...
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