Font Size:
The city was filled with reflective surfaces, and Rong Feng was terrified of seeing anything. He insisted on finding a completely dark place.
“A completely dark place, there actually is one,” Qin Xunfeng said, glancing back at the door they had just exited. He hesitated and asked, “Can we return to the cinema by the same route?”
Mo Qi explained, “Rong Feng’s reality and the cinema are not on the same timeline. Theoretically, he can never reach that cinema. But with you leading, it’s different. The behind-the-scenes spirits and the previous cinema clearly do not exist in the same reality, yet the phone call your friend made was still connected, indicating that players can cross between different movies. Once players form connections between different movies, elements within the movies can also interact. So, after you answered the call, the behind-the-scenes spirits followed you into another movie.”
“I see. So, how do I get back to the theater?” Qin Xunfeng asked.
“To establish the connection, you should call Liang Tianxiu,” Mo Qi said. “But to validate my guess, let’s have a passerby make the call first.”
He put away his phone and approached a passerby, explaining that his phone was out of battery and asking if he could borrow theirs to make a call.
With Mo Qi’s Charming Aura, the passerby, though initially hesitant and suspicious that Mo Qi might be a scammer, eventually agreed to lend his phone. To reassure the passerby, Mo Qi didn’t handle the phone himself. Instead, he provided the phone number and asked the passerby to dial it and put the call on speaker, while Mo Qi refrained from touching the phone at all.
After the call was dialed, the prompt message was “The number you have dialed is not in service.” The passerby was surprised and doubted whether he had entered the number correctly.
Mo Qi thanked him, told him it was not necessary, and let the passerby go.
The passerby, still reluctant to leave, was eager to help Mo Qi and even suggested exchanging phone numbers or adding each other on WeChat. At that moment, Qin Xunfeng, who had been hiding in a corner, stepped in to diffuse the situation. Mo Qi said to the passerby, “There’s no need to make the call. I’ve found my friend. Thank you.”
The passerby asked, “Really? Can we add each other on WeChat? Maybe become friends?”
“No,” Mo Qi said coldly.
The passerby left reluctantly, glancing back several times. Qin Xunfeng, watching from the side, clicked his tongue and said, “Tsk tsk, this indiscriminate, timeless Charming Aura. No wonder I can’t help but trust and rely on you.”
Mo Qi gave Qin Xunfeng a cold look. Qin Xunfeng quickly turned away and said, “It seems people in this movie cannot connect to Liang Tianxiu. I’ll make the call now.”
As he dialed, Qin Xunfeng hesitated and said, “Do you think… Liang Tianxiu will answer the phone? He doesn’t know I’ve rid myself of the behind-the-scenes spirits. Even though we agreed to transfer the spirits…”
“Yes, he will,” Mo Qi said with certainty.
It wasn’t about trusting Liang Tianxiu’s character, but rather the reality of the situation would force him to answer the call. They had been away from the cinema for nearly 20 minutes, and without the protection of the behind-the-scenes spirits, things should be getting chaotic there.
As Mo Qi finished speaking, Qin Xunfeng’s call connected, and Liang Tianxiu’s frightened voice came through: “Is it my turn now? That’s fine; the things outside are almost breaking the door. Having a behind-the-scenes spirit protect us would be great. Help!”
“He really answered,” Qin Xunfeng said quickly. “There are no behind-the-scenes spirits left, but it’s okay. I’ll go back to rescue you. Hold on for a few more seconds and keep the line open.”
During the call, the door they had exited seemed to have changed. Qin Xunfeng placed his hand on it and vaguely felt that pushing it would return them to the theater.
He couldn’t help but glance back at Mo Qi. Taking Rong Feng and the behind-the-scenes spirits back to the theater would not only make the theater safe but also seal both Rong Feng and the spirits, achieving three goals at once. However, dealing with the Purple Moon Clinic was now Mo Qi’s responsibility alone.
Qin Xunfeng knew that Mo Qi was extremely powerful. With an SSR-level ability and his intelligence, along with numerous strong cards at his disposal, including several SSR-level ones, he had more than enough means to handle the situation. Rather than worrying about Mo Qi, he was more concerned about whether he could control Rong Feng.
Even so, Qin Xunfeng couldn’t help but worry about Mo Qi.
“Go ahead,” Mo Qi said calmly from behind them. “If I need you, I’ll call.”
With that, Qin Xunfeng pushed open the door and led Rong Feng into the pitch-black theater.
After watching them leave, Mo Qi made his way straight to the Purple Moon Clinic.
He was quite curious about this Purple Moon Clinic.
From Rong Feng’s description, Mo Qi understood that the Purple Moon Clinic was a psychological consultation center. However, the clinic had a large mirror capable of reflecting the whole body, which was somewhat peculiar.
In general commercial establishments, such large mirrors are typically found in industries where body shape needs constant adjustment, such as dance, fitness, or yoga studios. It’s rare to see such large mirrors in ordinary studios, let alone in psychological consultation clinics.
An oversized and overly clear mirror inherently carries the notion of self-scrutiny. Many people with psychological issues find it difficult to examine themselves; a mirror not only fails to make them feel at ease but can also create a sense of defensiveness, making psychological treatment more challenging. It was quite puzzling that a clinic claiming to offer psychological consultations would have such a mirror.
Since deciding to go to the Purple Moon Clinic, the passersby around Mo Qi had returned to normal and no longer spoke to him about the “Purple Moon Clinic.”
Mo Qi interpreted these changes as a form of psychological suggestion. It was clear that the suggestion was not directed at the passersby but rather aimed at him.
Just like how movie protagonists often hear voices in their heads when faced with dilemmas, Mo Qi was experiencing something similar. It wasn’t that the passersby were directly telling him about the “Purple Moon Clinic”; rather, his mind was conjuring up information about it, making it seem like everyone around him was discussing it.
In other words, any player entering this space would be subconsciously compelled to head towards the Purple Moon Clinic.
Qin Xunfeng was fortunate; with the protection of the behind-the-scenes spirits, he was not subject to this rule.
Though the task seemed straightforward, it was highly likely that this world couldn’t be solved with just special abilities.
Standing in front of the door to the psychological consultation room, Mo Qi took a deep breath and knocked. After receiving a response of “Please come in,” he pushed the door open and stepped inside.
The interior of the Purple Moon Clinic was extremely peculiar. Upon entering, instead of finding a room, Mo Qi was greeted by a long, narrow corridor. Directly opposite the door was a massive mirror. As soon as Mo Qi opened the door, he saw his reflection in the mirror and couldn’t help but glance at it for a moment.
In that brief moment, Mo Qi noticed something about his reflection in the mirror that he had never paid attention to before.
The Mo Qi in the mirror appeared calm, but deep within his eyes, there was a hint of vulnerability.
Because he knew himself so well, Mo Qi could discern that this vulnerability was not a suggestion from others but a real, underlying truth.
From graduating high school and entering university to becoming a participant in this death game, Mo Qi had seemed fearless and unflinching in the face of death. Yet, he knew that this was merely a façade.
During the Wish Box task, when he witnessed Fan Ting’s death and empathized with her emotions, Mo Qi understood that he was indeed afraid of death—not his own, but the departure of others.
In every task, Mo Qi has strived to do his best, working to restore each fractured world to reality and trying to bring every player who died in the game back to life.
Despite his best efforts, he still couldn’t prevent the loss of players.
The fear of departure seemed to have been etched into him during his senior year of high school, when his father died and his mother left. When he himself decided to leave, he met Zhou Moxun.
Though their contact was brief, Zhou Moxun gave him the courage to continue living and the strength to face the world alone. Yet, at the end of that task, Zhou Moxun also left.
He shattered into pieces, scattering before Mo Qi.
As these thoughts crossed his mind, Mo Qi felt a dull pain in his chest. He unconsciously stood in front of the mirror, scrutinizing himself.
It was only at this moment that Mo Qi realized how deeply the image of Zhou Moxun breaking into countless pieces was embedded in his heart, and how painful it truly was.
The pain had been forcibly numbed by the game, with lost memories acting like a veil over the wound, attempting to bury everything.
But the wound remained. Covering it wouldn’t make it disappear. It wouldn’t vanish.
Mo Qi was always in pain; he had simply lost the sensation of it. He couldn’t feel it but could only chase after things he no longer remembered through the card game.
Now, having come this far and finally standing before Zhou Moxun, he carefully cherished that SSR card, fearful of losing it again.
Is this truly my real thought? Mo Qi reached out uncontrollably, wanting to touch the slightly vulnerable version of himself in the mirror.
“You are the first person to stand in front of the mirror and examine yourself for over ten minutes in all the time I’ve run this clinic,” a kind and gentle voice suddenly spoke from behind Mo Qi. “Most people, when they see the mirror, are reluctant to enter. Even if they do come in, they try to avoid looking at it.”
Despite being immersed in his emotions, Mo Qi was not startled by the unexpected question. This kind of surprising inquiry was clearly a method for probing one’s inner self. People often reveal their most vulnerable side when caught off guard by fear.
Mo Qi had long been prepared for such tactics, which was why he allowed himself to remain in front of the mirror.
Mo Qi turned around calmly and saw a tall man in a white lab coat, standing at nearly six feet three inches. The man was handsome and refined, wearing a pair of rimless glasses. His demeanor gave him the air of an ancient sage, though he appeared to be under thirty. The contrast between his appearance and his bearing was striking, creating a mysterious impression.
The man seemed slightly taken aback by Mo Qi’s composed demeanor, but then he smiled gently and said, “You’re the first person to remain so calm after being startled. Your alertness is impressive.”
“It seems somewhat impolite to appear silently behind someone and then suddenly speak,” Mo Qi replied.
“You were simply too focused to notice me,” the man said, extending his hand in a friendly gesture. “Hello, I’m the doctor at the Purple Moon Clinic. My surname is Duan, so just call me Dr. Duan.”
Mo Qi shook his hand briefly and said, “Dr. Duan, I’m not here for a consultation. A person named Rong Feng asked me to come and pick up some medication.”
“Ah, Mr. Rong?” Dr. Duan smiled. “Are you friends with him?”
“Friends from a long time ago,” Mo Qi replied.
“A long time ago? How long exactly? Over ten years?” Dr. Duan inquired subtly. “He rarely keeps friends from ten years ago.”
Mo Qi smiled, “We were university classmates.”
“That would be over ten years then. It’s quite rare,” Dr. Duan said. “I’m surprised he would ask a friend from so long ago to pick up his medication.”
Dr. Duan’s words were carefully crafted to probe Mo Qi’s responses and assess the information he held.
Mo Qi sensed that Dr. Duan was indeed probing him, trying to gauge how much he knew about Rong Feng’s past. It was clear that Dr. Duan was employing a psychological strategy to manipulate and control the situation.
Rather than giving away his knowledge or falling into the trap, Mo Qi decided to tread carefully. He chose to respond with measured ambiguity, avoiding any direct confirmation or denial of what he knew.
“I’m here to help a friend, not to delve into the past,” Mo Qi said diplomatically. “Can I get the medication for Rong Feng now?”
Dr. Duan’s eyes narrowed slightly, but he maintained his gentle demeanor. “Of course. Please follow me.”
He led Mo Qi down the narrow corridor, deeper into the clinic, leaving Mo Qi to ponder what further challenges awaited him.
Mo Qi said, “We haven’t been in touch for ten years either. Today’s meeting was purely coincidental. His condition seemed quite uncomfortable, and he went to the hospital with someone else, so he couldn’t pick up the medication himself. It’s curious that he chose to ask an old classmate like me for help instead of reaching out to a colleague. Did he have issues with his work relationships? I remember he had a good rapport with everyone back in school, and he was even the student council president. Such problems shouldn’t be arising now.”
By shifting the focus to the present and attributing Rong Feng’s issues to current circumstances rather than the past, Mo Qi aimed to redirect Dr. Duan’s probing and prevent further examination of Rong Feng’s history.
Dr. Duan’s expression remained unchanged as he responded, “Please follow me. The medication is in here.”
He led Mo Qi further into the clinic, guiding him to the location where Rong Feng’s medication was stored.
Mo Qi followed Dr. Duan through the narrow corridor. One entire wall of the corridor was covered in mirrors. As Mo Qi glanced at the mirrors to observe Dr. Duan, he noted that the man remained completely inscrutable, revealing no hints of deception.
After passing through the corridor, they arrived at the office, which was bright and sunny. The office had multiple rooms, with doors on both the left and right sides, connecting to two additional rooms.
Dr. Duan noticed Mo Qi’s gaze and explained, “Psychological consultations are tailored to create a comfortable environment for each patient. The other two rooms are decorated in different styles. Would you like to take a look?”
“No, I’m not here for a consultation,” Mo Qi shrugged, playing up his lack of money. “Psychological services can be quite expensive.”
Dr. Duan smiled but did not press the issue. Instead, he directed Mo Qi to a small sofa in the reception area. “Please wait here for a moment. I’ll go fetch the medication.”
He then poured a cup of tea and placed it in front of Mo Qi. “Please enjoy the tea.”
With that, Dr. Duan walked into one of the inner rooms, leaving Mo Qi alone in the office.
Mo Qi naturally avoided touching the cup of tea, wary of potential substances that might affect his nerves.
The office contained another massive mirror, and Mo Qi could see his reflection with just a slight turn of his head. He noticed that this mirror was different from the one in the corridor.
The mirrors in the corridor were perfectly flat, albeit excessively clear and magnified, revealing every flaw and showing an unfiltered version of himself. In contrast, the mirror in the office had a subtle curvature that was not immediately apparent. Upon closer inspection, Mo Qi observed that this mirror distorted reflections slightly, altering the facial muscle movements and making expressions appear more strained. Even a smile seemed like a forced grin, giving an overall impression of bitterness.
Staring into such a mirror could easily lead to self-doubt, making one believe their state is so poor that even a genuine smile is unattainable.
The presence of such mirrors in a psychological consulting room clearly indicates a malicious intent, designed to exacerbate the patient’s condition.
Mo Qi recalled Rong Feng’s unhappiness upon seeing an old classmate, his immediate question about whether Mo Qi knew about He Yang, and Dr. Duan’s repeated insinuations about Rong Feng’s deteriorated relationships with friends from ten years ago. It suddenly all made sense.
Rong Feng’s murderous intent towards them was, in fact, orchestrated by Dr. Duan. By using his psychological expertise, Dr. Duan manipulated Rong Feng into revealing his hidden secrets and convinced him that he must eliminate anyone who might know about He Yang’s death. This was all part of Dr. Duan’s scheme to create a murderer through psychological manipulation.
Realizing this, Mo Qi suddenly became alert. Dr. Duan had been gone for over ten minutes—far too long.
In a rush of clarity, Mo Qi then noticed a faint fragrance in the room. Following the scent, he saw a small incense burner on Dr. Duan’s desk, from which the aroma was emanating. The scent had become overwhelming and was causing a headache.
Mo Qi felt disoriented and weak, his legs giving way as he collapsed.
Before losing consciousness, Mo Qi understood why he had only just noticed the incense burner. Dr. Duan had set a threefold trap for him.
First, the tea: Whether or not it contained drugs was irrelevant. Its purpose was to divert Mo Qi’s attention.
Second, the mirrors: The corridor mirror made Mo Qi more attentive to the office mirror, consuming additional time as he focused on it.
Third, the conversation about Rong Feng: This wasn’t just a probe; it was designed to steer Mo Qi’s thoughts away from observing details in the office, such as the incense burner.
After setting these three traps, time slipped away unnoticed. By the time Mo Qi realized what was happening, he had been inhaling the scent for over ten minutes.
What a terrifying individual. From their first meeting, everything had been meticulously planned, step by step. Was this person really just an SR-level task boss?
Before losing consciousness, Mo Qi furrowed his brow tightly, his hand struggling in vain against the effects of the drug.
However, as he struggled desperately, someone silently approached Mo Qi, crouched down, and took out a syringe, injecting the liquid inside into Mo Qi’s body.
Mo Qi completely lost consciousness.