Chapter 3: Bullet Screen

Lu Canran couldn’t quite say whether it was food poisoning.

Because she quickly returned to normal.

Those strange voices disappeared without a trace. Qin Bingshuang asked with concern whether she had any other symptoms—did she feel like throwing up, did she need to go to the bathroom? Had she seen any little people holding hands and dancing? Was she dizzy? Could she stand steadily? And was the person she was talking to and seeing right now still human?

“My dad once used a knife that had just cut mushrooms to slice a watermelon,” Qin Bingshuang said. “I ended up vomiting and having diarrhea, and I even saw my dog speaking English to me non-stop. Canran, are you feeling unwell?”

Lu Canran shook her head.

“No,” she said. “Just now it felt like I was having a bit of auditory hallucination.”

Their friends all agreed that she was simply too upset, and they tried to cheer her up with even greater enthusiasm.

Lu Canran also began to suspect that it might have been an illusion caused by a sudden emotional swing.

The group went to a haunted house on the shopping street, then wandered around the mall.

Most college students had limited financial means, so the four of them could only enjoy a few stores together. They would grab scent cards at major beauty counters to smell the latest perfumes, pick a blind box to open at Pop Mart, place bets on the prices of sets at LEGO, browse stationery at MUJI, and finally visit Miniso, The Green Party, and Sanfu to buy a few small hair clips or scrunchies.

By the time they left, it was close to nine o’clock. The cleaning lady was slowly pushing a floor-scrubbing machine along the corridor when Lu Canran received a text from Liang Yuanzheng.

Liang Yuanzheng: 【Sorry, the surgery just ended. Is your arm still itchy?】

Lu Canran: 【Thank you, Senior. It’s not itchy anymore.】

Xu Qiao was complaining about her study partner for the graduate school entrance exam, who was obsessively competing with her and constantly copying her. Whatever materials she used, he would immediately buy the same ones. These past few days, he had even been hinting around, trying to find out which courses she was signing up for—he clearly wanted to enroll in the same ones as her…

Zhu Huaxin got an eyelash in her eye, and Qin Bingshuang tiptoed to help blow it out.

Lu Canran’s phone chimed twice in quick succession. A WeChat notification told her that her mom had transferred her two thousand yuan, and her dad was asking what time her Mandarin exam would end tomorrow—he wanted to order a cake to celebrate the end of her test.

Laughter and lively chatter filled the air. The mall was warm and smelled wonderful. At the bakery, a staff member was introducing a discounted pistachio croissant. Her crush was seriously apologizing and expressing concern for her well-being.

In that moment, Lu Canran suddenly felt that her life was already quite beautiful.

There was no need to seek advice from any romance gurus. She earnestly sent a message to Liang Yuanzheng.

CBO First Edition: 【The surgery took so long, you must be really tired, Senior.】

CBO First Edition: 【Be sure to get some rest early tonight.】

She spent a long time choosing, but in the end, she still didn’t send that cute little bird sticker with the affectionate snuggle.

It would reveal her longing to get closer.

She couldn’t be too obvious. As long as her feelings remained unspoken, he would continue to perfectly go along with her secret crush.

That night, Lu Canran fell asleep early, and peacefully.

Until she was woken up by her alarm. The alarm note said “Exam.” Sleepy and groggy, she reached out and turned it off.

Every semester, the school organized Mandarin proficiency exams. It was a fully computerized test, and for students planning to apply for a teaching certificate, taking the exam on campus was undoubtedly the best option. Some students aiming for the top-tier “First-Class A” certificate would instead choose to register for human-scored assessments offered by the Language Commission or language training and testing centers.

Lu Canran didn’t have a specific plan for her future, nor was she sure whether she wanted to pursue a teaching certificate. But following the principle of “take any certification you can get,” she still signed up—she was also the only one in her dormitory who did.

It was now eight o’clock. Xu Qiao had already gone to the library to study, and Qin Bingshuang had headed off early to work a part-time job on the shopping street. In the dorm, only Zhu Huaxin, wearing headphones and gaming, remained along with Lu Canran, whose exam was at ten.

Lu Canran hurriedly brushed her teeth, rinsed her mouth, and washed her face. Her mind was still buzzing faintly, like a soft electric current humming in her head.

Zhu Huaxin was cursing at her game: “Jiang Si! Why the hell did you charge in so fast? Got your head blown off, didn’t you… Who asked you to cover me? So annoying… Don’t move, I’ll restart after I die. And next time we parachute, don’t land in G Port.”

There was also a slow and melancholy male-female duet playing:

[…I hate you, I love you, I hate that I want you…]

While brushing her teeth, Lu Canran called out through the window, “Xinxin, what song are you listening to? It sounds really nice.”

Zhu Huaxin replied, “Huh? Oh, it’s 《Sunshine Rainbow Little White Horse》.”

Lu Canran asked, “Is it a remix version?”

Zhu Huaxin took off her headphones and listened carefully. “Might be. I’m not sure—are my headphones broken? You could actually hear it? Or do you just have really good ears?”

Lu Canran quickly applied some toner and lotion, changed into her clothes, and picked up her water bottle. “I’ll be back after the exam. What do you want for lunch? I’ll bring it for you.”

“No need,” Zhu Huaxin said, putting her headphones back on and urging her, “Uncle Jiang and Mom are picking me up later to go home. You go take your exam, don’t worry about me, babe.”

After a while, she asked again, puzzled, “Are you sure you heard the song from my headphones?”

There was no response. Zhu Huaxin looked up—Lu Canran had already left.

Lu Canran’s goal was to get a Second-Class A certificate, which wasn’t difficult to achieve. As long as her tone was natural and she pronounced the retroflex and neutral tones correctly, it wouldn’t matter if she misread a character or two. The exam was quick, and she had already prepared for the impromptu speaking topic, completing it smoothly.

The unexpected happened when she was leaving the testing room.

Above the head of the stern-looking proctor, a line of text appeared out of thin air.

That’s right—a line of floating text, continuously growing.

[I really want to get off work.]

[They only pay four hundred for proctoring. Who knows how much got skimmed off the top.]

[Finally over, hurry and go home, kids. I’m about to get off work too.]

Lu Canran instinctively took a step back and bumped into a male classmate from her cohort. Startled, she wanted to ask if he could see what she had just seen—but then she noticed there were several lines of text floating above his head too.

[Just bought new shoes and they got stepped on. Ugh, what kind of unlucky nonsense is this?]

[Wait, it was the class beauty who stepped on them. La la la la la—so happy!!!]

Lu Canran apologized in a panic, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t see clearly just now… I can pay for cleaning, or even buy you a new pair. Just send me the price on WeChat, I really am sorry.”

The male classmate’s face flushed bright red. He stammered, “It’s f-fine, really, no need, it’s nothing.”

Above his head, more words popped up, like a real-time scrolling bullet screen.

[So happy so happy la la la la la sunshine rainbow little white horse suki suki daisuki——]

Lu Canran fled in embarrassment.

But escaping didn’t make the world any better. On the contrary, what awaited her outside was even more terrifying.

Everywhere she looked, almost every living creature had bullet screens floating above their heads—some deep, some faint, some long, some short, some twisted, some straight—like a mess of tangled threads, all wound together.

A stray cat ran by with soft pitter-patters of its little paws, and above its head were the words: [Sparrow! Sparrow! Sparrow! Sparrow! Sparrow! Meow meow meow—Sparrow!!!]

By the roadside, a cleaning lady holding a broom in one hand and a dustpan in the other had this floating above her head: [Senior Sister, it has been thirty years since we last met. Who would have thought our reunion would be here on Mount Hua? Blades know no mercy—please, do not hold back. The title of the number one sword under heaven must be claimed by someone in the end.]

Bang—clatter—

A crisp sound rang out as a plastic water bottle was swept cleanly into the dustpan by the broom. The cleaning lady noticed Lu Canran staring and gave her a kind smile. “What’s wrong, student?”

“N-no problem,” Lu Canran stammered, “The weather’s really nice today.”

She stumbled forward in a panic, but still couldn’t avoid seeing the bullet screen above the cleaning lady’s head:

[A new generation rises to carry the torch. It seems the burden of restoring righteousness must fall upon the youth after all.]

Lu Canran was now completely convinced that she had been poisoned by mushrooms.

Absolutely convinced.

Flustered, she messaged the dorm group chat, asking if anyone else had felt that yesterday’s mushrooms were kind of strange.

Qin Bingshuang: 【Don’t even mention it.】

Qin Bingshuang: 【That new PE teacher at our school—the super handsome one who teaches badminton—he also ate at Zheng’s last night. I heard he got food poisoning and made a huge scene at the restaurant.】

Qin Bingshuang: 【Sigh, do you think they might’ve added poppy shells to the dishes? I still kind of want to go eat there.】

Xu Qiao: 【That’s because their food tastes good, and because you’re a big foodie.】

Xu Qiao: 【If it’s delicious and you want more, that’s normal. If it’s not delicious but you still want to eat it, that’s when they’ve probably added poppy shells.】

Xu Qiao: 【What’s wrong, Canran? Is your stomach upset?】

Lu Canran: 【Feels more like my brain is not okay.】

As she swiped back, in her chat list, she noticed that Liang Yuanzheng’s profile picture was constantly bubbling with little pink hearts, like it was trying to coax her into tapping in and sending a message.

Lu Canran’s brain felt even worse.

Her friends were all busy with their own things, and Lu Canran didn’t want to bother them, so she went to the university-affiliated hospital by herself.

She cautiously registered under a different doctor’s name.

—What if the hallucinations got worse and she started spouting nonsense?

—Hallucinating from mushroom poisoning was no big deal, but her secret crush on Liang Yuanzheng being exposed? That would be a disaster.

It was the turn of spring and summer, and the hospital was full of people suffering from colds, inflammation, and digestive problems. The more people there were, the more bullet screens there were—it was pure torment for Lu Canran right now.

In front of the triage desk, Lu Canran sat in one of the waiting area chairs. To her left was a sticky-sweet couple, cuddling and whispering sweet nothings. The boy gently called her “baby,” but the bullet screen above his head read: [So awkward.] The girl’s bullet screen read: [Big piggy’s hands are so warm, no wonder he’s such a sweet guy.]

A nurse was pushing an elderly man in a wheelchair past her. The youthful and energetic nurse had a bullet screen above her head that read, [A whole month of night shifts, I really can’t take it anymore. When will they finally increase our meager allowance, sigh.]

The frail old man in the wheelchair had this above his head: [So much pension this month, I can’t even spend it all. How should I divide it among the kids?]

Lu Canran stared blankly, forced to take in the noisy bullet screens all around her:

[It hurts so much.]

[I really need to poop.]

[Why is this taking so long?]

[Why is everyone registering for the emergency department? If you’re not in a hurry, please just go to general medicine, I can’t take it anymore.]

[Help me, I don’t want to die, I’m still young…]

A doctor hurried by, and even the ballpoint pen sticking out of his chest pocket had tiny words on it: [I’m Director Xue’s pen! Return me to Director Xue now! He’s already lost seventeen pens this month!!!]

This was madness.

To her right, a little girl had [Wuwu, math problems are so hard] floating above her head. She was hunched over a worksheet, tightly gripping a pencil, struggling for a long time before finally looking up at Lu Canran.

“Big sister,” she called out crisply, “can you help me figure out what the answer to this question is?”

Lu Canran lowered her head to take a look.

Before she could even finish reading the question and the answer choices, red Xs and a checkmark had already instantly appeared over the options—

A: Distractor

B: Distractor

C: Pick me, I’m the correct one!

D: Distractor

Lu Canran tried her best to ignore the bullet screens and focused on reading the question. It was a simple solve-for-X problem. She worked it out in two seconds and told the little girl, “Choose C.”

The bullet screen above the girl’s head turned into a cheerful little yellow chick: [Thank you, big sister!]

A middle-aged man suddenly snatched the worksheet away, his face dark with anger. He gave a curt, low “thank you,” then yanked the little girl away.

Lu Canran was stunned.

Above the man’s head, the bullet screen was a cloud of foul language: [Attention-seeking idiot. What’s a college student doing helping with an elementary school problem? Distracting my daughter from studying—this is f***ing ridiculous.]

The little girl, clearly frightened, now had a crying baby crocodile floating above her head where the cheerful yellow chick had been.

There were a lot of people around. Lu Canran had wanted to say something, but when she saw the girl being dragged away, she hesitated.

What if she spoke up and the man took it out on his daughter?

Some people liked to unleash their rage on those even weaker than themselves.

She didn’t say anything. She closed her eyes, not wanting to see all those awful, filthy, chaotic things.

The hallucinations from the mushroom poisoning were nothing good at all. Her normal life was now buried beneath all those messy bullet screens, like a wall plastered with layers of cheap, peeling ads—it made her want to throw up.

Everyone was neatly dressed, but the bullet screens were unsightly beyond words.

“Lu Canran?”

Lu Canran opened her eyes.

Standing in front of her was Liang Yuanzheng in a white lab coat. His brows were slightly furrowed, and there were faint dark circles under his eyes. It looked like he hadn’t rested in a long time.

“What’s wrong? Where do you feel unwell?” Liang Yuanzheng’s expression was calm as he made a small gesture, signaling her to stand up. “Has the allergic reaction gotten worse? No need to register—come with me.”

Lu Canran didn’t move. She just stared blankly at the top of Liang Yuanzheng’s head.

It was blank.

Completely blank.

There were no chaotic bullet screens above his head, no noisy voices, no inexplicable songs. It was clean, clear—like a single drop of crystal-clear water.

After being bombarded all the way by chaotic bullet screens and an overwhelming flood of useless information, she had finally found a patch of pure, untouched land.

He had no particular expression—and no bullet screens either.

Lu Canran’s nose stung slightly. “Senior,” she called softly.

Just as the words left her mouth, she saw a small, trembling red heart slowly, slowly rise above Liang Yuanzheng’s head.