The Game of All Beings

Chapter Two: The Wager Begins

Shen Yue didn't sleep well that night.

Not from excitement—he'd long since passed the age of being excited about "going out to play tomorrow." Three hundred years was too long, long enough to dull all emotions. He couldn't sleep because that feeling of being watched hadn't gone away.

Lying in bed, eyes closed, he could feel something watching him.

Not from outside the window, not from the door, but from everywhere at once. Countless gazes, piercing through walls, through blankets, through his skin, landing directly on his soul.

He remembered the legend.

Thousand Eyes. The gods' tool, the executor of their wagers. A giant bird covered in countless eyes, each watching a different timeline. When it chose someone, it would simultaneously observe all their possibilities, then*** a single, most dramatic path.

Those it watched felt a sudden chill, as if pierced by countless gazes in an instant.

Shen Yue felt that now.

He opened his eyes, stared at the ceiling. In the darkness, he could see nothing, but he knew those gazes were still there.

"Why me?" he thought.

In this life, he was just an ordinary student, seventeen, no special talent, no notable background. He'd carefully hidden himself, never stood out, never caused trouble. He should have been the last person to attract attention.

Unless——

Unless the gods didn't need special people, but special choices.

He thought of Lin Xiaohé.

That girl, eyes clean as a newborn's. Every choice she made was unpredictable—not because she was a blank slate, but because she was a blank slate in this life. Blank slates were only blank for this one life. When she died and entered the cycle, she'd be like everyone else, waking with memories, starting over.

But now, she was blank.

Purely blank.

To the gods, she was a living, breathing uncertainty generator.

And he, a three-hundred-year reincarnate, had arranged to go fishing with her.

It was a combination.

A predictable reincarnate, plus an unpredictable blank slate. They meet, they interact, what choices will they make? How much uncertainty would those choices generate?

Suddenly, Shen Yue understood why he was being watched.

He wasn't the protagonist of the wager.

Lin Xiaohé was.

He was just someone placed beside her, to amplify her uncertainty. Like a control group in an experiment, to highlight the variable's effect.

Realizing this, he calmed down.

If the gods had truly opened a wager, he couldn't escape it. Once marked by Thousand Eyes, one's fate was already edited. All he could do, within that edited script, was make his own choices.

Whether those choices were real, or already foreseen——

He didn't know.

He only knew that when dawn came, he still wanted to go fishing.

——

The next day dawned fair.

The sun rose as usual, no darkness, no anomaly. The sky was a transparent blue, the clouds cotton-white. Shen Yue stood beneath the city wall, watching the river glitter in the morning light, and felt a strange unreality.

This world was too normal.

So normal it felt wrong.

Given how frequent the periods of darkness had been, the world shrinking, the sun lowering, the Purge rules changing—but today was like a postcard, too perfect to be real.

"You came!"

Lin Xiaohé's voice came from behind. Shen Yue turned, saw her running towards him, a small bamboo basket in her hand, her face slightly sweaty.

"You ran here?"

"Mm. Was afraid you'd be waiting." She held up the basket. "Look, I brought something to put the fish in."

Shen Yue took the basket, examined it. It was roughly woven, with a few gaps, but clearly homemade.

"You made this?"

"Mm. Learned last night." Lin Xiaohé said. "The old lady next door taught me. I messed up a few, this is the only one that works."

Shen Yue looked at her, momentarily speechless.

Learned last night.

She'd spent an entire evening, just to weave a basket for fish. Not for exams, not for survival, just so that when they went fishing today, they'd have something to put them in.

This purity of "preparing for tomorrow, just because," he hadn't seen in three hundred years. Reincarnates didn't do such things. They knew tomorrow might not come, knew plans were subject to change, knew that living itself was the greatest uncertainty. They lived in the moment, not to enjoy it, but because they dared not expect the future.

But Lin Xiaohé was different.

She didn't know this was her only life as a blank slate. Didn't know that when she died, in her next life she'd wake with the memories of this one, becoming an ordinary reincarnate. Didn't know that every choice in this life would be used by the gods to extract uncertainty. She was just a fifteen-year-old girl, wanting to catch fish, so she wove a basket beforehand.

Shen Yue's throat tightened.

"Let's go," he said. "Into the water."

——

The river wasn't deep, just above the knee.

Shen Yue took off his shoes, rolled up his trousers, stepped into the water. The autumn river was cool, but bearable. He looked down, could see his feet, the stones on the riverbed, the occasional small fish swimming by.

Lin Xiaohé followed, splashing water, cool drops landing on his skin.

"Look," she pointed ahead. "Lots of fish over there."

Shen Yue followed her finger. Sure enough, a small school of fish was swimming near some waterweed, about seven or eight of them, each finger-length.

"How do you catch them?" he asked.

Lin Xiaohé handed him the basket. "You hold this. I'll use my hands."

She bent over, slowly lowering her hands into the water, movements so slow they were almost imperceptible. Her eyes fixed on the fish, her whole body like a statue.

Shen Yue stood beside her, holding his breath.

The fish swam closer. One, two, three——they glided between her fingers, completely unaware of danger. Then one stopped, gently flicking its tail in the water, right in the centre of her palm.

Her hand suddenly closed.

Water splashed. The fish thrashed in her grip. She straightened, holding it up with both hands, smiling so hard her eyes crinkled shut.

"Got one!"

Looking at that smile, Shen Yue suddenly understood why blank slates were so precious.

Not because their choices were unpredictable.

But because their joy was real.

In three hundred years, he'd seen countless smiles. Flattering smiles, calculating smiles, polite smiles, fake smiles. Reincarnates' smiles always held something—comparison, recollection, too many things unsaid. But Lin Xiaohé's smile held nothing. Just simple happiness, simple "I caught a fish" happiness.

He held out the basket.

Lin Xiaohé dropped the fish in. It flopped a few times at the bottom, splashing droplets. She looked down at the fish, then up at Shen Yue, eyes shining.

"Your turn?"

Shen Yue nodded.

He bent over, lowered his hands into the water. His movements were perfect, slower and steadier than Lin Xiaohé's—he had three hundred years of body control, this was easy. The fish swam over again. One, two, three——

His hand closed.

Got one.

He lifted the fish, water streaming down his arm. It struggled in his grip, tail slapping his wrist, tickling.

"You caught it!" Lin Xiaohé jumped. "You liar, you said you couldn't!"

Shen Yue paused.

Yes, he'd said he couldn't. It was a lie, because he didn't want to reveal he could. But his fish-catching movements had been more practised, more precise than hers, nothing like a beginner's.

He'd exposed himself.

He looked at Lin Xiaohé. She showed no suspicion. Just simple happiness that he could catch fish too, that they could catch more together.

"I...... maybe I have a talent for it," he said.

It was a lame excuse. But Lin Xiaohé believed him.

"Then let's catch them together!" She picked up the basket. "Put yours in here too."

Shen Yue looked at her, feeling strange.

That choice he'd just made—pretending he couldn't, then revealing he could—had it been made under Thousand Eyes' gaze? Was it part of the gods' edited script? Or his own decision?

He didn't know.

He only knew that in that moment, he'd made a choice. And that choice had led to him standing in this river, fishing with Lin Xiaohé.

——

They fished all morning.

The basket held over a dozen fish, big and small. Lin Xiaohé said that was enough, any more and they couldn't eat them all. Shen Yue asked how she'd cook them, she said roast them, she'd roasted fish before, she knew how.

They gathered dry sticks by the riverbank, built a fire. Lin Xiaohé used a small knife she carried to clean the fish, threaded them onto sticks, and set them over the fire. Her movements were practised, nothing like a first-timer.

Shen Yue watched her hands.

"You've roasted many times?"

"Mm. When Mum and Dad were alive, we often came to the river to play." Lin Xiaohé turned the fish. "Dad's roasted fish were so tasty. He taught me how to turn them, said not too fast, not too slow, wait until the skin crisps up."

As she spoke, her eyes were on the fire, its light flickering on her face.

Shen Yue said nothing.

He didn't know what to say. Comfort her? Say he understood? He did understand—he'd lost too many people, too many to count. But he couldn't say it. Because his "loss" was different from Lin Xiaohé's "loss." The people he lost would reincarnate, appear again sometime, in another form. The people Lin Xiaohé lost were truly gone.

The death of a blank slate was their one and only end.

She wouldn't know who she'd be in her next life. She wouldn't remember anything from this one. After she died, the person called Lin Xiaohé would vanish completely. The one who woke in the next life would be someone else, someone carrying all of "Lin Xiaohé's" memories but no longer being her.

Shen Yue looked into the fire, and a question occurred to him.

If Lin Xiaohé knew all this, would she still smile like that?

"Fish is ready." Lin Xiaohé handed him a stick.

Shen Yue took it, bit into it. Slightly burnt, a little salty, the flesh tender. Delicious.

"Good?"

"Good."

Lin Xiaohé smiled, bit into her own.

They sat by the river, eating roast fish, watching the water. The sun crept to its zenith, then slowly westward. The breeze was light, the clouds thin, everything moving with an improbable slowness.

Shen Yue wished this moment could last.

Not because it was so wonderful. But because in this moment, he didn't have to think. Didn't have to think about past lives, future lives, gods, wagers. Just sit here, eat fish, soak up the sun, listen to the water.

He hadn't felt like this in a long time.

Maybe never, in three hundred years.

——

When the sun began its final descent, Lin Xiaohé said it was time to go home.

They strung the remaining fish on grass, and she told Shen Yue to take them. He said it was too many, she said it wasn't, take them for his mother. Shen Yue paused, then said okay.

He'd forgotten he had a "mother" in this life.

Seventeen years, and he still wasn't used to the role. He called that woman "Mum," but never truly saw her as his mother. He knew she was just a temporary vessel, a carrier for him to pass through this lifetime. In a few decades, he'd die, reincarnate, become someone else's child. She'd become a shadow in his memory, mixed in with hundreds of other "mums," impossible to distinguish.

But Lin Xiaohé was different.

Her mother was truly her mother. Dead, and forever gone. If in her next life she met someone who looked exactly like her mother, that person wouldn't be her mother. Just another soul, borrowing a similar face.

"What's wrong?" Lin Xiaohé looked at him.

"Nothing." Shen Yue stood. "Come on, I'll walk you back."

This time, Lin Xiaohé didn't refuse.

——

They walked towards the west of the city.

The sun was sinking, painting everything gold. The trees by the path, the crops in the fields, the distant houses—all coated in a warm light. Lin Xiaohé walked ahead, steps light, occasionally turning back to say something.

Shen Yue followed, carrying the string of fish.

As they passed through a small grove of trees, Lin Xiaohé stopped suddenly.

"What is it?"

"Look." She pointed ahead.

Shen Yue followed her finger, saw an old man sitting at the edge of the grove.

He was dressed in dusty clothes, leaning against a tree trunk, head bowed, motionless. The setting sun cast a long shadow behind him.

Shen Yue drew closer, saw the old man's face.

Very old. Indeterminably old. Wrinkles layered like a dried-up riverbed. Eyes closed, mouth slightly open, breathing shallow.

"Grandfather?" Lin Xiaohé crouched beside him, gently shook him.

The old man didn't respond.

Shen Yue reached out, felt for breath. Still there, but weak. He looked at the old man's hands—thin, liver-spotted, but on one finger, a silver ring engraved with strange symbols.

He recognized that symbol.

The mark of a Wall Breaker.

"What's wrong with him?" Lin Xiaohé asked.

"Don't know," Shen Yue said. "Maybe he couldn't walk any further."

He hesitated. Normally, he shouldn't get involved. Getting involved meant being noticed, being noticed could lead to erasure. That was a reincarnate's survival rule.

But this old man was a Wall Breaker.

Wall Breakers were those who tried to uncover the truth of the world. They built fate interferometers, trying to disrupt Thousand Eyes' gaze. Most died within three days of their experiments, cause of death always "multiple memory collapse." Those who survived were few.

This old man had survived. And he wore a Wall Breaker's ring.

Shen Yue wanted to know what he knew.

"We should take him back," he said.

Lin Xiaohé looked up at him. "To my place?"

"Your place is closer."

"Okay."

Together, they lifted the old man, one on each side. He was light, light as a bundle of dry twigs. His head lolled, his mouth muttering something unintelligible.

——

Lin Xiaohé's home was on the western edge of the city, a small earthen house with a few vegetables planted in the yard. They helped the old man inside, laid him on the bed. Lin Xiaohé went to fetch water, Shen Yue stayed, watching him.

The old man's eyelids fluttered, slowly opened.

His eyes were cloudy, but in the cloudiness, a spark remained. He looked at Shen Yue, looked for a long time, then his lips moved.

"You......" His voice was like sandpaper.

Shen Yue leaned closer. "Don't talk, rest first."

The old man shook his head, painfully raised a hand, gripping Shen Yue's sleeve. His hand was cold, cold as if just pulled from water.

"You've been...... chosen," he said.

Shen Yue's heart tightened.

"I know."

The old man smiled. It was an ugly smile, cracked lips pulling back, revealing a few yellow teeth.

"You know nothing," he said. "You're not...... the protagonist. She is."

The "she" meant Lin Xiaohé, outside fetching water.

Shen Yue said nothing.

"The gods...... have opened a wager." The old man's voice was intermittent. "Betting on what choices...... she'll make. Betting on whether you'll...... influence her...... or be influenced by her."

"What's the stake?"

The old man looked at him, a glint in those cloudy eyes.

"The stake is...... this world."

Shen Yue froze.

"If she makes a...... completely unpredictable choice...... it will generate immense...... uncertainty. The gods will get enough...... energy to sustain their divine realm. If she...... is influenced by your experience...... and becomes predictable...... then the world will...... accelerate its contraction."

The old man coughed a few times, gasping for breath, before continuing:

"You two...... stand at a crossroads. Every step...... is a choice. Every choice...... determines the world's fate."

Shen Yue was silent for a long time.

"Then what should I do?"

The old man smiled, but this time, very faintly.

"You think...... I know?" he said. "I'm a Wall Breaker...... not a prophet. I'm only responsible for seeing the truth...... not for telling you how to act."

He closed his eyes, his voice growing weaker:

"But...... one thing I can tell you."

"What?"

"The moment you...... helped me up...... that choice wasn't within Thousand Eyes' gaze."

Shen Yue jolted.

"What?"

"Thousand Eyes...... has blind spots." The old man's lips barely moved now. "0.3-second...... blind spots. We created one...... once. In those 0.3 seconds...... people can make a completely free choice. When you helped me up just now...... it happened to fall within those 0.3 seconds."

His eyes closed fully.

"That choice of yours...... was your own."

Then he stopped speaking.

——

When Lin Xiaohé came back with the water, the old man was dead.

A faint smile lingered on his face, as if he'd finally laid down a heavy burden. Shen Yue stood by the bed, looking at that face, his mind in turmoil.

"He's dead?" Lin Xiaohé whispered.

"Mm."

They buried the old man in the yard, dug a deep pit, covered it with stones. Lin Xiaohé found a wooden board, wanted to carve a name, but they didn't know what he was called.

"What should I carve?" she asked.

Shen Yue thought. "Carve 'Wall Breaker'."

Lin Xiaohé didn't ask why, just used her knife to carve the two characters.

The sun had completely set. The last trace of dark red lingered at the sky's edge, then slowly surrendered to deep blue. Stars began appearing, one, two, three.

Lin Xiaohé stood before the grave, hands together, eyes closed.

Shen Yue watched her.

He remembered what the old man said: she was the protagonist. The gods were betting on her choices. Every choice determined the world's fate.

But she didn't know.

She didn't know this was her only life as a blank slate. Didn't know in her next life she'd become someone else. Didn't know that every choice she made was watched by countless eyes, used to extract energy, to sustain this shrinking world.

She knew nothing.

She was just an ordinary girl, wanting to catch fish, wanting to roast them, wanting to dig a grave for an unknown old man. Every choice she made was pure, because she had no past.

But he did.

Three hundred years of past, pressing on his soul like a mountain. Every choice he made, he had to consult with his three-hundred-year-old self. Have I made this choice before? What was the outcome last time? Will it be different this time?

He wondered if the old man's words about the 0.3-second blind spot were true.

He wondered if his choice to help the old man had truly been his own.

He wondered more, from this moment on, if he could still make choices that belonged to him.

Lin Xiaohé opened her eyes, turned to look at him.

"What are you thinking?"

Shen Yue looked back at her, at those clean eyes, and suddenly made a decision.

"I'm thinking," he said, "if one day you found out you only had this one life, how would you live it?"

Lin Xiaohé paused, then smiled.

"Then I'd live it to the fullest," she said. "Catch all the fish, roast all the fish, laugh all I can, cry all I can. Make one life feel like ten."

Shen Yue looked at her, and suddenly those memories pressing on his soul didn't feel so heavy.

"Alright," he said. "I'll go with you."

They walked back together. The sky was fully dark, but light remained on the path—moonlight, starlight, distant lamps from homes.

Shen Yue didn't know if the sun would rise tomorrow.

Didn't know how the gods would edit his fate.

Didn't know if the 0.3-second blind spot would ever come again.

But he knew one thing:

Just now, he'd made a choice.

It was his own.