Gege (NT: Older brother)
After Xing Ye ntioned the "cetery," Guan Ling sat down heavily on the ground. Previously, he had been extrely cautious, afraid of making any noise that might alert the monsters or other threats in the room. But after hearing Xing Ye's conclusion, he was at a loss as to what to do.
What should he say? Guan Ling thought he should say sothing to lighten the mood or provide ideas for the leader. But thinking about the countless doors on the first floor, he felt a pang of fear. Was the only ending to entering this ga death? And would there be suffering even after death?
He watched as Xing Ye went downstairs, carrying the mirror and turning through the corridor on the second floor, with Cao Qian following behind. Guan Ling, however, did not feel like moving.
Sitting on the stairs, he watched as Xing Ye patiently walked past each door, and an impulse to cry welled up inside him. Could he really be saved? Probably not. In the end, he would just be another door among countless others on the first floor, without even a symbolic item to mark his identity.
After sitting on the ground, Guan Ling realized the castle was eerily silent. Aside from the sounds of their movents, there was only the terrifying noise of the monster in the attic constantly crashing against the building. It was a world of utter silence, stifling and oppressive.
Cao Qian, following Xing Ye for a while, felt very uneasy when he remained silent. She wished she could chat with Guan Ling, who was just an ordinary person—annoying at tis, with unpleasant things to say, and sotis dragging others down with his idle thoughts. But Cao Qian felt that she needed soone like him, with a bit of a cynical attitude, to say sothing—anything—to break the silence, even if it was just self-delusion.
To her surprise, when she turned around, she saw Guan Ling sitting on the stairs, tears streaming down his face.
He made no sound; he simply wept unconsciously.
Cao Qian didn't mock him for crying as a grown man. She understood that kind of desolate feeling.
The throne bathed in sunlight on the third floor was empty. With only ten players left to challenge the final stage, the countless doors on the first floor were endless. Was there really anyone who could escape? Even with the help of the leader, there were countless more worlds ahead, and they would eventually die in one of those worlds.
There was no hope here, only despair.
Cao Qian also sat on the stairs, covering her face with her hands, unsure of what to do.
Only Xing Ye continued to inspect each door. He felt he had missed sothing and that there were clues he hadn't noticed.
The mirror in his palm whispered, "Xing Ye, am I eventually going to have to go through that door?"
"I don't know," Xing Ye said honestly, "I don't know if I will have a door on the first or second floor in the future."
The castle was very quiet, and even from a distance, Guan Ling and Cao Qian could hear the conversation between Xing Ye and the mirror.
Xing Ye continued, "But I do know one thing: everyone is bound to die. No one in this world gives up living just because they will die soday. In our country, there are over 3 million unnatural deaths each year, not including deaths from ageing or illness. Of those, 80% are due to accidents. On average, nearly 10,000 people die unnaturally each day, which ans every minute, 10 people are dying, most of whom are young adults or even children, who can't even achieve what animals can.
"Look at the doors downstairs. Are there 3 million?"
Guan Ling looked down and counted. The doors were lined up in rows, spaced about 3 ters apart. Although there were many doors, he could only see about a thousand or so. The so-called countless doors were actually beyond the range of human sight.
Xing Ye said, "You see so many doors downstairs, but in reality, we have only found a little over a thousand, far less than one-tenth of the country's daily unnatural deaths. No one knows when disaster will strike, but why continue living?"
Holding the mirror, Xing Ye walked in front of Guan Ling and Cao Qian, looking at them both.
"But now, death is right beside us," Guan Ling said with a mournful face.
"What's the big deal?" Xing Ye's voice remained steady. "Nine years ago, my parents died in a car accident, leaving only
and my younger brother. At that ti, I had already brushed past death, yet I continued to live. My younger brother died in the ga. I knew this ga would kill people, yet I still entered, and I am still alive."
Why was Xing Ye so clear about the annual number of unnatural deaths? After his parents' deaths, he had deliberately investigated this data. On paper, it was just a simple number, but Xing Ye understood that behind each number was the pain of a family.
Guan Ling was surprised to learn that the usually strong leader had such an experience. He was stunned and suddenly felt that his own troubles were trivial in comparison.
Xing Ye said, "I don't know what the future holds, but for now, as long as we are still alive, we must continue living and find a way out."
As soon as he finished speaking, a gentle breeze suddenly blew through the empty castle, causing the painting on the first door on the left side of the second floor to flutter and then settle back down, making a rustling sound.
Xing Ye approached the painting. He had only glanced at it before, but now he looked at it more closely.
It was a painting of a young child spreading their arms towards the huge sun in the sky. Although simple, it was clear that the artist had poured their emotions into it. The entire painting was filled with the child's admiration for the sun, a yearning to chase it and embrace it.
As Xing Ye looked at the painting, his hands began to tremble involuntarily.
The small mirror closest to him sensed Xing Ye's emotions and asked, "What's wrong? What happened?"
To make it easier for him to see the surroundings of the castle, Xing Ye had kept the mirror's surface turned away from himself. Lu Mingze, seeing the painting, was quite puzzled.
Xing Ye said softly, "I just realized that I have seen this painting before. The era was so long ago that I almost forgot. This was a painting made by Xing Shuo when he was in kindergarten. That year, he was five years old, and I was nine. It was exactly twenty years ago. He painted a picture and got a small red flower for it in his class. When he ca ho, he gave
the small red flower because the na of the crayon drawing was ' and gege.'"
The little figure was
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