The Game of All Beings

They walked forward. Those colours surged from all directions, denser and denser. Each colour carried images—faces, tree shadows, house outlines, smoke of war, cries of infants, sighs of the aged. All the memories of this world, all the reincarnations, all the lives. Lin Xiaohé walked ahead, blocking those colours. Her translucent form grew fainter, so faint she seemed to melt into the light. Shen Yue held her hand, felt it growing lighter. "Are you okay?" he asked. "I'm okay," she said. "Just feeling a bit floaty." She glanced back at him, smiled. That smile, still the same as before, pure and clean. Looking at that smile, Shen Yue remembered the first time he'd seen her. She'd stood on the city wall, asked him "what are you doing here all alone." Back then, he didn't know who she was, didn't know what she'd become, didn't know they'd come this far. He only knew that smile was beautiful. They walked on. For a long time. Those colours grew denser, the images thicker. They passed through wars, through plagues, through countless lives of countless people. Those images flowed over them, like river water over stones, leaving no trace. Then they saw something. Not the Forgotten One. The Forgotten One had no shape. It was an emptiness. In the deepest part of the divine realm, all the colours, all the images, all the concepts flowed towards the same place. But when they reached that place, they vanished. Not absorbed—vanished completely, as if falling into a bottomless abyss. That place held nothing. No light, no dark, no colour, no sound. Not black, not white—just nothing at all. Shen Yue stood before that emptiness, and suddenly understood. The Forgotten One was not a person. Not that sleeping giant, not that erased existence. The Forgotten One was this emptiness. That which had been erased, that overly powerful existence—after its consciousness dissipated, what remained was not a dream, but a hole. A hole that could never be filled. Everything—the gods, the divine realm, this world, all reincarnates—existed because of this hole. They were not its memories. They were the ripples splashing up when emptiness rushed in to fill the void left behind. "It's empty," Shen Yue said. Lin Xiaohé stood beside him, looking at that nothingness. "Then what do we wake?" Shen Yue didn't know. They stood there, looking at that emptiness. Those colours still flowed in, forever flowing, forever unfilled. Suddenly, the emptiness moved. Not really moved—a sensation. As if something from within that emptiness looked out. No eyes. No gaze. Nothing. But Shen Yue knew—it was looking at them. A voice sounded. Not emanating from the emptiness, but sounding directly in their minds. Without tone, without emotion, like countless people speaking at once, yet like no one speaking at all. "You came." Shen Yue opened his mouth, didn't know how to answer. Lin Xiaohé spoke first. "Who are you?" The voice was silent for a moment. "I am you," it said. "I am everyone. I am this world itself. I am also what remains of that which was erased——nothing at all." "Can you wake?" Lin Xiaohé asked. "Wake?" the voice said. "I was never asleep. I simply——do not exist." Hearing this, a chill ran down Shen Yue's spine. Something that didn't exist—how could it be woken? "Those colours——" he began. "Those are my dreams," the voice said. "Not dreams I dream, but dreams you dream. Your existence, your reincarnations, your memories——all illusions generated because of this emptiness. Emptiness itself does not dream, but the presence of emptiness causes surrounding things to dream." It paused. "You are those dreams." Shen Yue looked at his own hand. Still there, visible, tangible. But was it real? Lin Xiaohé stood beside him, translucent, nearly invisible. Was she real? "Then what are we?" she asked. The voice was silent for a long time. "You are the only things I cannot see clearly," it said. "You are a blank slate, a c***k that grew in the dream itself. He made a free choice, stepped outside the timelines within a blind spot. When you two are together, you generate something——not dream, not emptiness, but something else." "What?" "Perhaps reality," the voice said. "Perhaps another possibility." The colours around them suddenly began flowing violently. Not into the emptiness, but in all directions. Those colours, as if startled by something, surged wildly, colliding, splashing countless images. Shen Yue felt something. That chill. The sensation of being pierced by countless gazes. But different this time. Not a single Thousand Eyes—many. No, many existences. The gods had come. Shapes emerged from within the colours. Not concrete shapes—concepts. Order, like a giant clockwork, countless gears meshing, eternally turning, eternally precise. Chaos, like a fire, shapeless, directionless, simply burning, simply churning. Creation and Destruction, like twins, one building, one smashing—what was built was instantly smashed, what was smashed was instantly rebuilt. They were the gods. They had come from all corners of the divine realm, surrounding that emptiness, surrounding Shen Yue and Lin Xiaohé. A voice sounded—Order's voice. Not speech, but the concept itself vibrating. "You should not be here." Shen Yue looked at those enormous concepts, sweat on his palms. "We came to wake it," he said. "It cannot wake," Chaos's voice roared like flames. "It never existed." "Then we'll end this dream." The gods were silent. Then they laughed. Not aloud—the concepts laughed. Order laughed more precisely, Chaos laughed more wildly. Creation and Destruction laughed, building more shapes and smashing them. "End?" Creation's voice like an infant's first cry. "Do you know what 'end' means?" "Everyone disappears," said Destruction's voice like a final sigh. "We too will disappear," Order said. "The divine realm too will disappear," Chaos said. "This emptiness too will disappear," Creation and Destruction said together. "Because its reason for existence is to be filled by us. If we disappear, it will no longer need to exist." Shen Yue understood. The gods were not evil. They existed because they were needed. This emptiness had appeared, surrounding energy had converged, forming concepts, forming the divine realm, forming the gods. Their reason for existence was to maintain balance around this emptiness, to keep those splashed ripples—this world—functioning. If the emptiness disappeared, they too would disappear. "You don't want to disappear?" Lin Xiaohé asked. The gods did not answer. But Shen Yue knew. No. No existence wanted to disappear. Even as concepts, even without emotion, they had an instinct to exist. "But we do," Shen Yue said. "We don't want to reincarnate anymore. Don't want to pretend anymore. Don't want to live in an ever-shrinking world, waiting to be erased, edited, forgotten." He looked at those enormous concepts. "You could stop us. Could erase us directly. But you haven't. Why?" The gods were silent for a long time. Finally, Order spoke. "Because you cannot be killed." Shen Yue froze. "What?" "You." Order said. "She is not in any timeline. You made a free choice within a blind spot. When you two are together, you generate something—we cannot see it, cannot touch it, but know it exists. That thing protects you." "What thing?" "Don't know," Chaos said. "Perhaps reality. Perhaps another set of rules. Perhaps that emptiness——" it paused. "Perhaps the final trace of consciousness left by that which was erased." Shen Yue turned to look at that emptiness. Nothing there. But it was there. "It's still here?" he asked. "Don't know," Creation said. "It does not exist, yet exists. We have lived countless reincarnations, yet cannot see through it." Destruction said: "But you can." Shen Yue looked at Lin Xiaohé. She stood there, translucent, nearly invisible. But light shone in her eyes. "Try?" she asked. Shen Yue nodded. Together, they walked forward. Towards that emptiness. The gods did not block them. Not unwilling—unable. With each step they took, those concepts retreated. Not from fear, but from something deeper—perhaps Order was right, something protected them. That emptiness drew nearer. Nearer. Then they stepped inside. Nothing at all. Truly nothing. No colour, no sound, no light, no dark. Not even the concept of "nothing" itself existed. Shen Yue felt himself fading. Not his body—his sense of existence fading. He didn't know who he was, didn't know where he was, didn't know why he'd come here. But he still held Lin Xiaohé's hand. That hand, cool, light, but still there. "Shen Yue." Her voice came through. Distant, but audible. "Yes." "Are you there?" "Yes." They stood in that nothingness, holding each other's hands. Then the voice sounded. Not from outside, from within. From within their own bodies, from their joined hands, from every corner of their existence. "Thank you." Shen Yue paused. "For what?" "For letting me know," the voice said. "That after I died, something remained. Not this world, not the gods, not those reincarnations. But you. Two real existences." Lin Xiaohé asked: "Are you that erased one?" "I am," the voice said. "Also this emptiness. Also the place you now stand. I died, but not completely. Left a little something behind——the ability to see reality. You carry it." It paused. "Now, I can truly die." "What about us?" Shen Yue asked. The voice was silent for a moment. "You will vanish. This dream will shatter. The gods will disperse. Everything will return to nothing." "And then?" "Then——nothing at all." Shen Yue gripped Lin Xiaohé's hand. Cool. Light. But still there. "Okay," he said. The voice spoke no more. But it left one final thing. Not sound, not image—a feeling. Like a smile. Around them, collapse began. Not gradual—instantaneous. That emptiness suddenly expanded, expanded, expanded, sucking everything in. The gods cried out, struggled, tried to resist—useless. Order shattered into fragments, those gears crumbling to dust. Chaos burned to ash, that fire flaring once, then extinguishing. Creation and Destruction clung together, the final shape they built was themselves, then simultaneously broke apart. They vanished. Those colours began flowing backwards. Not into the emptiness, but vanishing directly. With each colour that vanished, a lifetime of memories was erased. Shen Yue saw his own memories vanishing——three hundred lifetimes, extinguishing one by one, like lamps blown out. He saw his first reincarnation, a blacksmith, forging a sword. Extinguished. He saw his hundredth reincarnation, a fisherman, catching fish in a river. Extinguished. He saw his two-hundredth reincarnation, a scholar, writing by lamplight. Extinguished. He saw this lifetime, standing on a city wall, meeting a girl. That image remained. He turned to look at Lin Xiaohé. She was looking back at him, her translucent form fainter, nearly vanished. "Shen Yue," she said. "Yes." "I remember something." "What?" She smiled. That smile, exactly like their first meeting. "You're the one who taught me to catch fish." Shen Yue looked at her, and those memories that had nearly extinguished suddenly brightened again—their first meeting on the city wall, fishing by the river, firelight as they roasted fish, the old man's dying words, the sleeping figures in the editing room, and those he thought he'd never remember—— Her smile. "You too," he said. "The one who taught me to laugh." They stood there, looking at each other. Around them, colours still vanished, the world still collapsed, but they only looked at each other. Lin Xiaohé raised her hand, touched his face. Cool. Light. Like mist. But she was there. "Shen Yue." "Yes?" "There's something I want to try." "What?" She didn't answer, just rose on her toes and pressed her lips to his. Cool. Light. Like a snowflake landing on lips. But in that moment, Shen Yue felt something warm. Not his lips—his chest. That long-hollow place suddenly filled. Lin Xiaohé pulled back, looked at him. "So that's how it is," she said. "How what is?" "Kissing," she smiled. "I never tried before." Shen Yue smiled too. "First time for me too," he said. Three hundred lifetimes, the first time. Around them, the colours vanished completely. The gods vanished too. That emptiness continued expanding, sucking in the last remnants. Shen Yue looked down at his hand. It was completely** now, only a shape remaining. Lin Xiaohé was fainter, faint as mist in air. "Afraid?" he asked. She shook her head. "Not afraid," she said. "I've already died once." She held his hand. That hand could no longer be felt, but they both knew the other was still there. Nothingness surged over them. Engulfed them. —— Chen Mo didn't know when he'd lost them. He only remembered that when they entered the divine realm, something had pushed him aside. Not forcefully—gently, like water pushing aside a leaf. He'd tried to grab Shen Yue's hand, but grasped nothing. Then they'd vanished, vanished into those flowing colours. He stood alone in the white space. Nothing around. He called out several times. No answer. He walked forward, for a long time. Then those colours began vanishing, the gods began collapsing, the world began ending. He knew the dream was shattering. But he kept walking. He didn't know how long he walked, before he saw a figure. A woman, her back to him, standing not far away. She wore old-fashioned clothes, long hair, very thin. Looking at that back, Chen Mo's heart suddenly raced. "Mother?" he called. The woman turned. It was her. His dead mother. That face, those eyes, that smile—identical. But Chen Mo knew this wasn't real. This was a dream. An illusion. The final thought he'd conjured himself, before vanishing. Because his real mother had died in the plague last year. When she died, she would reincarnate, in her next life become someone else, never again be "Mother." This before him was just his memory. His mother—or rather, that thing resembling his mother—looked at him and smiled. "Xiao Mo." Chen Mo stood frozen. He knew it was fake. But he still wanted to look a little longer. "Mother," he said. That thing came closer, stood before him. "You've grown up," she said. Chen Mo nodded. "I've been looking for you," he said. "For a year." That thing looked at him, no tears in her eyes, only calm. "I know," she said. "But you were looking in the wrong place. I'm not there. I'm only someone you imagined." Chen Mo was silent for a moment. "I know," he said. "But I wanted to see you again." That thing smiled. That smile, exactly as in his memory. "Then look," she said. Around them, the white began collapsing. Chunks falling away, into nothingness. They stood there, looking at each other. "Mother," Chen Mo said. "Yes." "Thank you." "For what?" "For letting me see you one more time." That thing looked at him, and finally something appeared in her eyes—not tears, but something very light, very warm. "Silly child," she said. Nothingness surged over them. Chen Mo closed his eyes. Then—— Nothing remained. —— Shen Yue opened his eyes. No, he had no eyes anymore. But he could still see. He saw himself standing in a void. Nothing—no colour, no sound, no light, no dark. Just nothing. Lin Xiaohé stood beside him. She too was the same. No longer translucent, just existence—the final trace of existence. "We're still here?" she asked. "Seems so." "Where is this?" Shen Yue thought. "Maybe the final place," he said. "The last moment before vanishing." Lin Xiaohé looked around. Nothing. Forever nothing. "So boring," she said. Shen Yue laughed. "Pretty boring." She turned to look at him. "So what do we do?" Shen Yue thought, then held out his hand. "Hold hands a little longer?" Lin Xiaohé looked at that hand, and smiled. She placed her hand in his. Cool. But in this void, that coolness was the only sensation. They stood there, holding hands, looking at the nothingness in the distance. Nothingness surged towards them. Bit by bit. "Shen Yue," she said. "Yes." "Can we kiss again?" He looked down at her. She was smiling. He smiled too. "Okay." He lowered his head, pressed his lips to hers. Cool. Light. Like a snowflake. Then—— Nothingness surged over them. Nothing remained.