Casually wearing a white jacket-style women’s uniform coat, matched with tight athletic pants, a fair-skinned woman crossed the hallway, which reflected warm light, and arrived at the door.
“Huh?” She tilted her head slightly, her gaze drifting back to the corridor she had come from, an inexplicable faint sense of loss rising in her heart, like a light smoke that lingered and refused to disperse.
After pondering briefly, this handsome woman with delicate features pushed open the door. Instead of taking a bath first after the afternoon workout as usual, she strode over to the desk, pulled off the silk sweatband from her neck, tossed it onto the armrest, and sat down with her eyes closed, leaning back in her chair.
In her mind, she began to trace the pattern of a magical rune.
A chorus of whispers arose, and a dreamlike black tide surged in from all corners of the room.
When she opened her eyes again, the woman, now with a completely altered appearance, was already seated in a dim hazy space resembling her own room. At the center of the room, a swirling black mist magic pattern kept shifting, and a genderless mental voice came from within it:
{You have come earlier than the appointed day each month, Madam Huan Bao’er.}
The woman straightened her slender waist pressed against the contorted back of the chair. Her entire appearance had now taken on another form, becoming more ethereal and bearing a dignity that was. less human.
Her long fingers, encased like white leather sleeves, flicked a glinting coin that fell into the suspended complex pattern.
[I want to read Hu Bao’er’s latest story right now.]
{As you wish.}
The twisted pattern began to flow, and a slightly reddish page drifted out from within it, passing through the room and arriving in Huan Bao’er’s hand. Her eyes, lustrous like pearls, rapidly scanned over the words that had become solid on the page.
—Though Those in high position have numerous daily affairs, they are always the same routine. Fortunately, life is still sprinkled with various unexpected seasonings. For instance, today, a peculiar incident occurred around Ms. Hu Bao’er, the Red President of Xingqi Company. She, remarkably, Has lost all memory of her suddenly vanished colleague and friend.
——When will she discover the anomaly? Actually, there is no need to worry. Because as one who possesses the star, she has already detected something unusual from subtle traces, as well as from her own thoughts and emotions. She quickly took action.
——Aware that something special was happening in secret, on the morning of that day, before her training, she took a moment to enter a mysterious place that only she could access. Here, she would conduct her monthly review of her memories—although this time, it was sudden. However, this review proved to be no small matter: Hu Bao’er indeed confirmed that her vague, elusive worry had become a reality!
——A friend who never existed had ceased to be.
Huan Bao’er’s fingers subtly creased the paper with a slight movement.
She swiftly sent the paper back into the patterns.
[Please give me an earlier story.]
Over a dozen pages flew in rapidly. Huan Bao’er grabbed them, stacked them together, and quickly read these stories, whose memories she had once been clear about.
But soon, she encountered something unfamiliar within these all-too-familiar words and sentences.
——… Hu Bao’er told Mr. Zhang Sheng that she really liked the game cartridge of “Mystic Ritual” that he had given her to play with, because the protagonist’s name reminded her of her uncle…
— “…Mr. Zhang Sheng told Hu Bao’er that a boy recently about to join the company seemed quite decent, and he wanted to introduce him to his goddaughter as a suitor before leaving. But Hu Bao’er asked which boy could actually catch Mr. Zhang Sheng’s attention. This old fellow, who had been known for two or three years yet never promoted to any higher position, chuckled and said it was a rising young man who had just stirred up waves in the outside world. Hearing that, Hu Bao’er knew exactly who he was referring to.”
— “…But Hu Bao’er said, ‘Though that little guy seems upright on the surface, he’s actually sneaky and sly, and sometimes flies off the handle. How could you think of pairing your goddaughter with such a match?’ Unexpectedly, Mr. Zhang Sheng replied, ‘But he’s good to the people around him, that’s the reason. All in all, there are many bad people in this world, too few good ones—that guy…’”
“That guy…” Huan Bao’er’s eyes flickered. “Wasn’t it me who proposed assigning that guy to work under little girl Jiaoma?”
She flipped through the materials about Mr. Zhang Sheng, realizing that Lost Illusion Company had never had anyone by the name of Mr. Zhang Sheng—it was merely a pseudonym.
Yet that meant someone of that nature absolutely existed.
Huan Bao’er raised her head and looked at the pattern.
“I want to read…” She frowned and looked down at her pages. There was no name for ‘that guy’ here; in her story, he was an extra who didn’t even count as a supporting role, and the pattern had not created an ephemeral name for this character.
She flipped through the information about her so-called goddaughter again, but in the historical records, she didn’t actually have such a goddaughter. It was Mr. Zhang Sheng who often mentioned his goddaughter—the young female superior—that reminded the middle-aged man of his only daughter back in his hometown.
[May I ask.]
Huan Bao’er thought for a moment about how to tell this creature about Yang Zicang. If she revealed too much, she feared it might cause certain individuals who should not be observed to be noticed by these beings. Though this person might have already begun to be recorded by it—but that was in other stories.
If a person constantly appears in multiple stories, she currently does not know whether the consequences are good or bad…
{What do you wish to ask, Lady? You know, I very much enjoy communicating with other lives; it is an instinct I retain.}
[I want to read some stories related to the Frequencyshed Land.]
{You mean, you wish to read that lady’s “memoir”?}
A flicker passed through Huan Bao’er’s eyes.
[No, I haven’t considered that. That’s all for today; I’ll visit on schedule early next month to sort out my memories.]
{Goodbye, madam. You know, I always enjoy communicating with other beings—it’s an instinct I’ve retained.}
Huan Bao’er nodded slightly and gently tapped the surface of her desk.
[Farewell, Publisher Your Excellency.]
The darkness receded like a tide.
The strange phenomena in the room retreated from the center of the woman’s gaze, rapidly dissipating in all directions, restoring the vivid and lively atmosphere of the mortal world. She sniffed her hand then rose to head to the bathroom taking a seat on the edge of the bathtub, waiting in contemplative silence for it to fill with hot water. Suddenly, she muttered softly.
“No. I can’t just let things take their natural course. I need to do something.”
Her eyes sharpened, fixing on the direction of the archives.
[I, the radiant pentagon, commence investment…]
……
Yang Zicang, who had returned to the dormitory empty-handed again today, suddenly heard a “thump thump” knock on the door.
Upon opening it, he found a young man whose eyelids and forehead bore uneven, bumpy scars.
Fortunately, these terrifying scars seemed to have been already treated, otherwise they would have been too unsightly. The newcomer’s physique was similar to his own, and although a company employee, they still carried a relatively strong aura of having roamed the “Frequency-Lost Land,” which meant this guy had also just entered the company not long ago.
“Excuse me, who are you?”
Seeing Yang Zicang looking over from behind the door, the smiling man took a hollow eye patch out of his pocket and placed it over his eyes.
This thing exactly covered his ugly scars. Yang Zicang immediately recognized him.
“It’s you!”
“Have you had dinner?” Zorro stood upright and said, “If not, come with me to a place—I’ve prepared some food.”
“Don’t tell me you already have your own turf.”
Zorro smiled: “Something like that? Just look at how ‘civilized’ I seem and you’ll know it’s impossible. Follow me, it’s outside the company.”
“Outside?!” Yang Zicang grabbed a coat and followed him out—he hadn’t gotten some fresh air in a long time either.
People greeted each other warmly along the way, and some had become increasingly refined, appearing as if they had been “enhanced in high definition.” These were high-ranking officials with formidable mental strength, yet they showed no hint of superiority.
Though sunlight bathed the land outside the company, a dense fog still lingered, creating a sense of profound depth. Occasional overlapping phantom shadows wavered left and right.
“Ah, finally able to catch a breath again.”
Standing on the ground, Zorro put his hands on his hips and let out a long sigh. He turned his head and said, “Come on, there’s a place to rest deeper in. The scenery here may be desolate, but it has its own unique charm.”
The two walked through the misty rocks, and within less than a quarter of an hour, a small pavilion came into view. On the stone table inside, crisscrossing lines were carved—a chessboard.
{Hello there, I’m Little Red Pony.}
A Harley-style Demonic Nightmare motorcycle dragged over two portions of food.
“Hello, adorable Little Red Pony.”
{Hello, such a polite human.}
Smiling, Zorro took the dishes from the Demonic Nightmare that was teasing Yang Zicang, arranged them on the stone table, Then this motorcycle-manifested Demonic Nightmare was immediately drawn to the swaying trees in the distance and zoomed off with a swoosh.
“Is this your companion Demonic Nightmare?” Yang Zicang asked, feigning displeasure in his tone.
“Haha, no. Our relationship is like yours with ‘The Big Star.’ Little Red Pony’s owner died a long time ago, and then it met me.”
“Then you’ve both been very lucky.”
Zorro handed the chopsticks to Yang Zicang, sitting on a stone pier: “So, I heard you’ve been here over half a month? Getting used to it yet?”
“Everyone’s really friendly; they’ll proactively tell me what I don’t understand, but the more that happens, the more uneasy I feel.”
“Heh heh, that means you haven’t done your job well, which is quite tormenting, right.”
Hearing Zorro’s teasing, Yang Zicang let out a couple of forced chuckles and asked, a bit reluctantly:
“You’ve been here for over a month—have you synchronized with any useful terrain?”
“Synchronize? You’re not working in the ‘Wave Band Group,’ are you? I’m in the ‘Frequency Division Group.’ All I do is sort through the ‘Dissonance Bands’ you guys send over, then extract and replace them. The pay in ‘Virtual Zero Sequence’ isn’t as good as units like yours, but at least it’s steady.”
“You just said ‘Virtual Zero Sequence.’”
Yang Zicang thought about the hundred thousand Virtual Zero Sequences he earned from a spotless clearing. Since Jiaoma’s sudden display the previous day, he hadn’t had the chance to distribute the Sequences he’d gained to her. He turned to Zorro and said:
“I’ve got some Virtual Zero Sequences too, roughly know how to use them, but nothing more in detail. Do you know any trade secrets?”
No sooner had he finished than he quickly added, “Don’t bother telling me whatever you’ve laid eyes on at the archives.”
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