“Don’t panic no matter what happened, speak slowly.” Zhang Wenda quickly reached out to steady the bespectacled kid and said.
Seeing the bespectacled kid trembling too much to speak, the Fat Deadbeat quickly chid in, “Mouse! There’s a cat! There’s a cat in the calligraphy room!”
“A cat?!” Zhang Wenda was stunned, uncertain for a mont whether the cats in this world were the sa creatures he rembered.
If it was just the kind of cat he used to know, they shouldn't have been this terrified.
Zhang Wenda hurriedly pulled out the Youth Center Guide and quickly flipped to the page for the calligraphy room, but found no ntion of any cats.
Old Man Ding had rely instructed students not to enter the large pit in the center of the calligraphy room, though the reason for the pit was unknown.
“That’s not it, this version we have is the standard edition, it’s missing so appendices. The teacher ntioned the new appendix during class.”
“The language teacher said that it’s impossible for any living creature to exist inside the Youth Center. If there are other animals, we’re in deep trouble.” The other students all spoke over each other, explaining to Zhang Wenda.
Just as the others finished speaking, the lights flickered again, and the once-bright Youth Center grew dim and erratic.
The strange phenonon made everyone’s fear deepen.
“Don’t panic, nobody panic.” Zhang Wenda glanced once more at the digital watch on Little Fatty’s arm and saw it was already 5:10 PM.
“It’s about ti, just about ti. Sothing like this happening now—if we leave, the teacher won’t say anything. Pack your things, we’re leaving now!”
He didn’t care what the cat was, or what weirdness was happening in the Youth Center.
In this broken place, nothing strange could surprise him anymore.
At the first sign of sothing wrong, his instinct was to retreat.
He would rather be punished by the rules than stay a mont longer in this cursed place.
The others clearly panicked, but when they heard Zhang Wenda’s words, they imdiately looked to him as their backbone and gathered around.
With the bespectacled kid and Little Fatty supporting him, the battered Zhang Wenda led the group back the way they ca.
Just then, accompanied by a sizzling noise, the hallway lights dimd once more—this ti, they did not co back on, with only one or two still faintly glowing.
Seeing this, everyone sped up instinctively.
With a “click,” Zhang Wenda turned on his flashlight, supplenting the lost brightness.
In the dimness, Zhang Wenda felt like sothing was making noise behind the closed doors lining the hallway.
The atmosphere was starting to feel very off.
“Run! Run!!” Zhang Wenda’s face twisted with tension. He shook off the helping hands and began to sprint, leading the others with him.
Luckily the hallway wasn’t long. In less than ten seconds, they had reached the entrance.
Just as Zhang Wenda shone his flashlight forcefully at the wall, a sudden chill crawled up the back of his neck to his head— the door was gone.
He reached out and touched the wall, only to feel cold stone.
The wooden door with “Serve the People” that should have been there had disappeared!
Now the others were fully panicked, many even starting to sob loudly.
Clearly, even for these local kids, the current situation was anything but normal.
“I an, is there… is there a chance,” Zhang Wenda forced a smile, “is there a chance the Youth Center only opens again precisely at 6 PM?”
But Little Fatty frantically shook his head. “No, usually there’s always a door here.”
“And… if we leave at 6… we’ll miss Cartoon City.”
“Then what the hell is going on?!” Zhang Wenda’s head was about to explode—he had known this place was full of problems!
He turned sharply toward the bespectacled kid, who was clearly a good student, and quickly asked, “I skipped class this morning. Did the teacher say anything about what to do in a serious ergency like this?!”
“Yes!” The other boy trembled as he raised the Youth Center Guide, ripping out pages and plastering them along the hallway corners.
“The teacher said the rule is—if sothing seems wrong, we stand on the paper and Teacher Rabbit will co save us.”
Hearing this, the others quickly followed suit, tearing out the guide pages and pasting them all over the corners—everywhere were images of Old Man Ding.
Zhang Wenda then watched as all the students curled up onto the sheets of paper, trembling and watching their surroundings anxiously.
“Did the teacher really say that?” Zhang Wenda asked with a hint of uncertainty.
“Really, really, why would we lie to you in a situation like this?” Little Fatty replied softly.
So lying down, so sitting, the students settled on the sheets, visibly calr now after following the teacher’s instructions, quietly waiting for the so-called Teacher Rabbit to co rescue them.
Seeing the certainty on their faces, Zhang Wenda said nothing more and also laid his own guidebook on the floor.
Minutes ticked by.
All the lights in the Youth Center had gone completely out.
Only Zhang Wenda’s flashlight remained as the sole source of light.
He clenched his hand, preparing for any unexpected developnts.
His left hand still worked, but the right was broken—though he’d straightened it, without Lollipop treatnt it was useless.
Zhang Wenda could hear the noises inside the rooms growing louder and louder.
He glanced at the Fat Deadbeat’s watch—it had already been ten minutes.
Yet Teacher Rabbit had not shown up to save them, and anxiety began to creep in.
Suddenly, the beam of Zhang Wenda’s flashlight stopped on the left wall.
There, six black Go pieces with centipede legs were lined up on the wall.
Seeing this, his face turned pale as death.
The Youth Center Guide confird how critical the situation was—it seed the abnormality had started from the Aeromodelling Room.
First, the hole in the Aeromodelling Room had grown larger than usual.
Then ca the flickering lights, followed by the strange cat and now the black Go pieces in formation.
Each step worse than the last.
Though he didn’t know exactly what was happening in this Youth Center or what it truly was, Zhang Wenda understood—the situation was still deteriorating!
He irritably tugged at the collar of his short-sleeved shirt and noticed the temperature in the Youth Center was rising.
Glancing again at the others, Zhang Wenda gritted his teeth and decided to follow the locals' lead for now.
Several minutes later, feeling stifled, Zhang Wenda took off his shirt entirely, going bare-chested.
Even so, sweat poured from his forehead.
Sweat seeped into his wounds, making his body tremble from the pain.
He roughly estimated the temperature—at least 40 degrees.
As the temperature rose, the crayon drawings of Old Man Ding on the paper began to lt.
Waxy streaks twisted down from the corners of the mouths and eyes, turning them disturbingly eerie.
When breathing itself beca difficult, Zhang Wenda decided he could wait no longer.
If they stayed any longer, they might really suffocate to death here.
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