Su Ming’an stared at the docunt, the glaring two words "drowned".
He suddenly rembered the system prompt at the start of the instance:
...
[Welco, players, to the tenth world!]
[World na: The World of Old Days · Land of Dream Patrol]
[Basic Quest for all players: Survival, live until the twentieth day.]
[Detected your identity as: Su Ming’an.]
...
Detected your identity as... Su Ming’an?
He was playing the role of "Su Ming’an", not "Su Wensheng".
Initially, he thought Su Wensheng was his vest this ti, but now he realized, he was actually replacing Su Wensheng — Su Wensheng had already died before Su Ming’an arrived.
At this mont, Su Ming’an suddenly felt a headache, as if sothing was exploding in his mind. He staggered to his feet and rushed into the room under the puzzled gazes of others, collapsing on the bed and gasping for breath.
A multitude of mory scenes flooded his mind, pulling him back into past mories—
...
I have always thought this world is strange.
It seems like it shouldn’t have been like this before. Spring breeze and flowers should linger here, and there should be no deities in the sky above.
I thought soone would object, or at least think we should reclaim history, but under the gloomy sky, I only saw the silent majority. People turned their spears on themselves, unilaterally giving themselves the responsibility of "loving society" and supervising whether others love this society. In this logic, the more they accuse others, the more it seems they love society themselves.
In the end, no one pursued the truth anymore.
I don’t like the world to be like this.
Later, I raised a ginger cat. My mother told that having a pet could reduce one’s internal consumption. The ginger cat always looked at with a lazy gaze, as if it pitied .
After all, I knew my thoughts were aningless, and I couldn’t change anything. I was born in an ordinary family; my father was a small town guard, and although my mother was the most famous mysticist of the ti, she was never at ho, as if I was naturally without a mother.
While raising the ginger cat, I began to understand the weight of life. Sotis, when I saw the corpses starved to death by the roadside, I would wonder if this person were a ginger cat kept by a wealthy person, would they not have starved to death.
But I can’t change anything; I’m just an ordinary person.
When I was eight, I was squatting under the teaching building, pouring water for a stray cat. Behind ca the giggling voices of students, vaguely ntioning words like "fifth floor," "art classroom," and "beautiful."
I didn’t understand what they were saying until I passed the fifth floor of the teaching building, where there was a long-abandoned art classroom.
Through the glass window of the classroom, I saw a teacher and a female student without clothes; at that mont, a flash of electricity struck my heart, and I suddenly understood why this world had fallen like this. From top to bottom, everything I saw was perated with filth.
I shouted and pushed the door open, saying I was calling the police. The female student glanced at gratefully and ran away, while the teacher held my shoulder with a dark expression, as if I had committed so heinous cri.
The cold wind of the Winter Moon poured into my neck, and I shivered, suddenly rembering the laughter of the students just now—yes, they probably saw this scene too, but they didn’t choose to push the door open; instead, they left laughing, extrely "smart". Only I recklessly broke this scene, as if a "destroyer" of so "order."
I rembered my grandma’s instructions; she said our family was getting poorer, and my mother hadn’t sent money ho for a long ti, making it hard to support my schooling, urging to listen to the teachers and not do anything out of line.
But breaking this scene, is it sothing out of line? Or is it standing silently outside the glass window, making "beautiful" comnts, a kind of out of line in human nature?
I don’t understand; my years had only seen through eight springs and autumns, and I couldn’t yet understand the birth of the "silent majority". My blood was too hot, my face too flush, my hands moved too quickly, all making so reckless.
On the way to the office, I couldn’t resist looking back down at the teaching building. The female student was fleeing outside, wrapped in tattered clothes, and the students scread as if she were so kind of monster. She was still young, but the marks on her body seed like unhealable wounds, with every gaze further corroding them, as if maggots were breeding on her through people’s eyes, making her future life riddled with scars.
I watched her escape desperately; she gradually fled from this hell ant for her, like a bird with broken wings.
I stood in the office, the principal patted my shoulder and told not to spread the matter or call the police; he would award as an excellent student as long as I kept silent.
—But how could I remain silent?
I thought of the art classroom, its tables and chairs very new, suggesting this was not the first ti such a thing happened, possibly having occurred dozens, hundreds of tis unbeknownst to . If I were to remain silent, I would be throwing myself into hell completely.
I shook my head.
At eight, I did not understand what silence ant.
Later, I was detained in that office continuously. My father ca to find , only to be driven away by security; the principal said I violated school rules and needed punishnt.
The torrential rain outside grew heavier, and my vision seed to penetrate the layers of walls, seeing the art classroom, where people still ca and went with complacent expressions. I placed my hand on the window glass, drawing long marks, wiping away the thin mist, I saw my pale face, pupils constricted, lips pursed tight, seemingly pitying .
I seed to see a ginger cat—I beca this cat.
Ah.
I suddenly understood.
Indeed, being "out of line" is a sin.
If everyone remains silent and you shout out, naturally, you will be taken away.
I was taken away.
To silence , I was sent to a dark place. There, no light was visible, only interminable beating and confinent; they said it was where bad kids stayed.
As I was about to faint from hunger, I thought, if that day I hadn’t pushed the art classroom door, or chose silence in front of the principal, would I not have beco a "bad kid"?
But no matter how many tis I rethink it, a hundred, a thousand, ten thousand tis... I would choose to push that door open. I wanted to save that girl; her escape served as a wake-up call for people. I vaguely heard that later, the art classroom was sealed up, and many began to pay attention to this matter; no one was hard because of it again.
That was truly, wonderful.
I am an ordinary person; I can only do what ordinary people can do. That is to take a courageous step forward. In this way, perhaps the "silent majority" will not be born.
In pain, I laughed out loud, hoping that the girl could live a peaceful and smooth life in the future.
After staying there for many years, my body gradually grew taller, my entire body covered in whip marks, too many to count. I began to repeatedly think about how I could change this society, how I could keep myself from being changed.
Later, the school was thoroughly investigated, soone ca to rescue , and I was able to see the sunlight again.
The mont the sunlight shone on my face, I slled the scent of the parasol trees by the road.
The person who rescued was called "Doctor Su", sharing the sa surna as . He was a doctor with a sense of justice. In conversations with him, I heard the term "Ark Project".
Doctor Su said that this project was an extrely evil plan, involving massive countries, cities, and forces, which he alone could not possibly uproot. It was a plan to create "Artificially Eligible Persons".
Only then did I know that the dark place I was in was one of the experintal bases for the "Ark Project", where all the children were test subjects, undergoing inhumane human experints. Luckily, I was fortunate enough not to die there.
Doctor Su patted my head and said I was still young and should go ho, not to get involved. When I leave the small town after my high school exams and beco sobody in the future, I can co to find him.
I went ho and stood under the parasol tree in front of my house. I hadn’t set foot here for many years. I rembered the braised shrimp my father cooked by hand, rembered the pouch stitched by grandma, rembered the tangerine cat I raised. It must be very fat and big now, always squinting and smiling at with clear and bright eyes.
I pushed open the door.
In front of was the body of the tangerine cat.
In an instant, I seed to fall into an ice cave, my hands and feet cold.
I frantically looked for my father and found his diary.
[December 7th: Son, did you co ho today?]
[December 12th: Son, the school told you were locked up. It’s all because dad is not strong enough to get you out. Even though I don’t know what you did, you must be right, dad believes you, dad is waiting for you to co back.]
[June 13th: Went to clean up your room today, looking at your stationery, dad felt very sad. Layed on your bed for a while, when woke up, thought you ca back because it felt warm around, turned around to see it was just the sunlight outside the window. It’s already sumr.]
[July 1st: Dad misses you so much, please hug dad in the dream tonight.]
[September 21st: Grandma’s illness is getting worse; dad has to take her to see a doctor far away. If you co ho, don’t bla dad for not welcoming you. Dad sincerely hopes you both are well.]
[November 29th: Dad ca back to pick up sothing today. Grandma no longer rembers dad but still rembers your na. She always calls out "Wensheng," "Wensheng" from bed. The doctor said if you could visit her, she might rember sothing. Your cat is also very ill lately, but dad really has no money...]
...
I held the diary tightly against my chest, feeling a terrible blockage in my heart.
I tried to dial my mother’s phone, shouting to ask her—where the hell are you, why won’t you co ho to see us. But I didn’t even have her phone number.
I buried the tangerine cat.
Alone, with a shovel, I buried it. Its body was indeed very fat, like a big orange loaf of bread under the earth, looking quite comical.
I looked at it, but couldn’t laugh.
I looked at the bruises on my arms, touched the cracks and palm seals on my mouth, looked at my limbs like reed stalks, standing under the parasol tree, I couldn’t laugh at all.
The tangerine cat was devoid of life, emanating a stench; its eyes could no longer reflect my sadness, which puzzled and angered —why had even you beco like this? Why couldn’t even you survive?
But I could only silently fill the soil, placing its favorite cat food on the ground, sitting in a daze for a long ti. Then, I dialed the phone, asking how that female student was doing.
She was the person I rescued; if her life was smooth, my efforts would have been worthwhile.
A classmate told that later she had suffered countless cold stares, neighbors pointed at her, saying flies do not attack seamless eggs, saying she was already soiled. People took pictures of her on that day, disheveled, and as the incident escalated, it spread crazily on the internet. Her information was all leaked out. Later, one night, she jumped into a lake.
I slowly put down the phone.
Unparalleled pain and numbness, like a venomous snake climbing onto my back. I suddenly felt as if I had been drowning in the deep sea since birth, gradually sinking, never surfacing.
I slamd the shovel into my hand, watching the blood flow; I actually felt a sense of pleasure, but this pleasure made even sadder.
What exactly did I save?
How can I shake this entrenched darkness?
For the first ti, I felt as if the world had finally defeated once. But I sat under the parasol tree for a long ti, until the sunset, and still decided to carry on as usual; the blood had not yet cooled down.
After that, I continued studying and went to high school.
Until the age of nineteen—
"Crash!"
As if sothing suddenly shattered, mories ended, Su Ming’an’s surroundings blurred, and he returned to the small interior, his reflection in the mirror gasping for breath.
He clutched his wildly beating heart, his fingers curling little by little.
"Su Wensheng."
Su Ming’an said in a low voice.
He had envisioned this identity thousands of tis—he once thought Su Wensheng was a genius, like Ya Sa Acto, impressively smart and capable of saving the world at a young age. He also thought Su Wensheng was like Su Rin, having experienced so lucky encounter that allowed him to lay down a plot with countless twists and turns.
But he never once thought that Su Wensheng was rely an ordinary person. A nineteen-year-old, ordinary kid, who couldn’t even escape from school, couldn’t even save a cat—just like countless ordinary people in the world, aside from the passionate justice and kindness in his heart, he had no strength at all.
Yet all known information told Su Ming’an—Su Wensheng had countless "vests", Su Wensheng was the Alliance Hierarch of the Human Self-Rescue Alliance, Su Wensheng was the Vice Minister of the City Guardian Departnt, Su Wensheng was Doctor Su from the Psychological Research Center, Su Wensheng was closely connected to the Old Day Church, Su Wensheng might even be the legendary Exotic Species King.
Nineteen years old, a high school student who couldn’t even protect himself.
With countless identities, standing at the pinnacle of the world.
This disharmony puzzled Su Ming’an. Su Wensheng’s first nineteen years of life was nothing special—sothing must have happened in the last year.
Moreover, Su Wensheng had already drowned. Su Ming’an was rely playing the role of "Su Wensheng".
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