The Game of All Beings

Chapter Three: The Price of the Blind Spot

Three days after the old man was buried, Shen Yue was woken by a knock at the door.

The knock was soft—three taps, a pause, then three more. Not Lin Xiaohé's rhythm; she knocked rapidly, like a bird pecking wood.

Shen Yue lay in bed, listening to the sounds outside.

His mother had already gone to answer. He heard the creak of the door, heard her ask "Who are you looking for?", heard a strange voice say "Shen Yue."

Someone looking for him.

Shen Yue sat up, quickly dressed. When he reached the main room, he saw a middle-aged man in grey standing there, holding a case. His face was so ordinary it was instantly forgettable—Shen Yue had seen many such faces, they belonged to people in a certain line of work.

"Are you Shen Yue?" the man asked.

"Yes."

"Come with me."

His mother stepped in front. "Who are you? What right do you have to take my son?"

The man pulled a paper from his pocket, flashed it at his mother. Shen Yue didn't see what was written, but his mother's expression changed. She stepped back, looked at Shen Yue, fear and confusion in her eyes.

Shen Yue knew what that paper was.

A conscription order.

Sometimes the government conscripted citizens for certain "special projects." Those conscripted couldn't refuse, couldn't ask questions, and whether they returned was a matter of luck. It wasn't law, but an unspoken rule—among reincarnates.

"It's okay," Shen Yue said to his mother. "I'll go, I'll be back."

He followed the man out. A black car with no license plate waited outside. The door opened, revealing three people already inside—an old man, a young woman, and a boy about his age.

Shen Yue got in, the door closed, the car started.

No one spoke.

——

The car drove for a long time. Shen Yue watched the scenery through the window: first the city, then suburbs, then fields, then mountains. The road narrowed, grew rougher, finally stopped at the foot of a mountain.

"Get out," the grey-clad man said.

The four of them were led out, up a mountain path. After about half an hour's walk, they came to a structure—not a building, but a door set into the mountainside. Metal, very large, densely covered with symbols.

Shen Yue recognized some of them.

Wall Breaker symbols.

The door opened, revealing a passage, very deep, its end invisible. The passage walls were metal, with lights every few steps, casting a harsh white pallor that made faces look ghostly.

They walked in. At the end of the passage was a hall, circular, about fifty metres in diameter. In the centre stood a massive device—countless metal rings nested together, each rotating slowly at different speeds and directions. Arcs of electricity sparked between the rings, emitting a low hum.

The fate interferometer.

Shen Yue had heard rumours of this. Built by Wall Breakers, attempting to disrupt Thousand Eyes' gaze. Most participants died within three days, cause of death always "multiple memory collapse."

Now he stood before it.

"Welcome." A voice came from behind.

Shen Yue turned. An old woman was entering through a side door. She walked slowly, leaning on a cane, but her eyes were sharp, unnaturally so for someone her age.

"My name is He Wan," she said. "Fourth-generation Wall Breaker. The four of you are the ones who, in the past three days, made a 'free choice.'"

Shen Yue's heart tightened.

Free choice.

He recalled the old man's dying words: the moment you helped me up, that choice wasn't within Thousand Eyes' gaze. It was your own.

"Don't be nervous," He Wan said. "We haven't brought you here to harm you. We want to tell you some things, and also ask for your help."

She walked to the fate interferometer, touched the slowly rotating rings.

"We spent thirty years building this. In those thirty years, one hundred and seventy-three people participated in experiments; only nine survived. I'm the ninth." She paused. "It succeeded once, creating a 0.3-second observational blind spot. In those 0.3 seconds, those chosen by Thousand Eyes could make one completely free choice."

She looked at the four of them.

"You four are the ones who made a choice in that 0.3 seconds."

Shen Yue glanced at the others. The old man kept his head down, expression unreadable. The young woman bit her lip, pale. The boy, about his age, stared at the fate interferometer, eyes alight.

"But," He Wan's voice dropped, "freedom has a price."

She walked to the wall, pressed a button. A screen lit up, showing four photographs—the four of them.

"The moment you made your free choice, you vanished from Thousand Eyes' gaze. Not temporarily, but completely." She pointed at the screen. "The gods can't see you anymore. You're not in any timeline."

The old man looked up. "So what?"

He Wan looked at him, silent for a moment.

"It means you've become the only 'real existences' in this world," she said. "And it means you'll be priority targets for erasure."

The hall fell silent. Only the hum of the fate interferometer remained.

"Erasure?" the young woman asked, her voice trembling.

"Not the Purge-day erasure," He Wan said. "Something more direct. The gods need uncertainty to sustain their divine realm, and you—you are completely unpredictable. Your very existence is the greatest uncertainty. But at the same time, you're variables the gods cannot control."

She paused: "The gods don't like what they cannot control."

——

Over the next two hours, He Wan told them more.

She spoke of how Thousand Eyes watched every timeline,*** a single, most dramatic path from countless possibilities. She spoke of how the gods used these edited fates to extract uncertainty, sustaining their divine realm. She spoke of everything the Wall Breakers had attempted over thirty years—most failed, a few succeeded once, that 0.3-second window.

How was that 0.3 seconds achieved? By overloading the fate interferometer, forcibly warping Thousand Eyes' gaze. The cost: in that single experiment, seventeen people died instantly. Only He Wan survived.

"Your 0.3 seconds was an accident," He Wan said. "The fate interferometer was long shut down, but it left a residual energy field. That field, just as you made your choices, happened to interfere with Thousand Eyes' gaze."

"So we were lucky?" the boy asked.

He Wan looked at him, her expression complex.

"Lucky, but not just lucky," she said. "When you made those choices, there must have been something that made you act without thought. That 'acting without thought' is the source of freedom. The gods can edit countless timelines, but they cannot edit 'acting without thought.'"

Shen Yue remembered the feeling when he helped the old man.

He hadn't thought at all. Just that the old man couldn't be left to die there, just that Lin Xiaohé had already knelt to help, and he couldn't just stand by. That choice held no calculation, no weighing of pros and cons.

Just acting without thought.

"Now," He Wan said, "you need to make a choice."

She pointed at the fate interferometer.

"This can be activated one more time. When activated, it will create a larger blind spot—about three seconds. In those three seconds, you can do one thing. Anything."

"What thing?" the old man asked.

"Disrupt Thousand Eyes' gaze," He Wan said. "Not interfere—disrupt. Make it impossible for it to fully observe this world again."

The young woman asked: "And then?"

"Then, the gods lose their ability to edit fate. Every choice every person makes will be real, free. Uncertainty will explode, the divine realm will gain immense energy—but at the same time, the gods can no longer control where that energy flows."

He Wan looked at them.

"This world might come alive. Or it might collapse completely. We don't know."

——

They were given rooms in the base, told to "take time to think."

Shen Yue's room was small, a bed, a table, a lamp. No windows, no way to tell day from night. He lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling, his mind in chaos.

He thought of Lin Xiaohé.

That girl, blank only for this life. Who didn't know she was being watched by gods. Who said "live one life like ten."

If he chose to activate the fate interferometer, what would happen to Lin Xiaohé's next life? Would she wake with the memories of this one, becoming an ordinary reincarnate? But if Thousand Eyes' gaze was disrupted, would reincarnation even continue? Would memories continue? Would the person called Lin Xiaohé continue to exist in some form?

He didn't know.

No one knew.

He sat up, walked to the door. It wasn't locked. He pushed it open, walked along the passage. Rounding a corner, he saw the boy sitting against the wall, knees drawn up, staring at the ceiling.

"Can't sleep?" Shen Yue asked.

The boy glanced at him, nodded.

Shen Yue sat down beside him.

"I'm Shen Yue."

"I'm Chen Mo."

Silence. Then Chen Mo spoke: "What was your free choice?"

Shen Yue thought. "Helping a dying old man."

Chen Mo paused, then smiled faintly.

"Mine was when my mother died," he said. "Before she died, she wanted water. When I poured it, the cup fell and broke. I crouched to pick up the pieces, cut my hand. In that moment, I suddenly thought: why am I picking this up? The cup's already broken, the water's already spilled, my mother's already dying—what use are these shards?"

He looked at his hand, a faint scar across it.

"But my hand was already reaching out. In that reaching-out instant, I felt something snap."

Shen Yue was silent. He understood that feeling.

"And you?" Chen Mo asked. "Why did you help that old man?"

"Because someone else had already knelt down," Shen Yue said. "She knelt to help, I couldn't just stand there watching."

"Who was that someone?"

"A blank slate."

Chen Mo's eyes lit up.

"A blank slate? There are still living blank slates?"

"Yes. Fifteen years old."

Chen Mo was silent for a long time.

"My mother was a blank slate too," he said. "Twenty-three years ago."

Shen Yue turned to look at him.

"This life, she's a blank slate, next life she won't be," Chen Mo said. "But she didn't know. She thought death was the end. Before she died, she held my hand and said, 'Son, I only have this one life. You have to live several lives for me.'"

His voice wavered.

"She didn't know she'd reincarnate. Didn't know in her next life she'd become someone else. She knew nothing."

Shen Yue didn't know what to say.

They sat side by side, watching the harsh light at the end of the passage.

——

On the third day, the four of them were called together.

He Wan stood beside the fate interferometer, her face expressionless.

"Made your decisions?"

The old man spoke first. "I've decided. I'm not doing it."

He Wan looked at him, said nothing.

"I've lived a hundred and twenty years, reincarnated seven times," the old man said. "I know what this world is. It's rotten, but it's the only world I have. You say activating this thing might make it collapse—I'm not gambling on that."

The young woman followed. "Me neither. I've only reincarnated three times, I still want to live."

He Wan looked at Chen Mo.

Chen Mo was silent for a while, then said: "I'll do it."

The old man and young woman both turned to look at him. So did Shen Yue.

"My mother's dead," Chen Mo said. "But she'll live again in her next life. If this broken world keeps going like this, her next life, and the one after that, will all be like me, living in a shrinking cage. I want her—I want all her future selves—to live in a real world."

He Wan looked at Shen Yue.

Shen Yue thought of Lin Xiaohé. Of the leaky bamboo basket she'd woven. Of her face lit by firelight as she roasted fish. Of her saying "live one life like ten."

"I'll do it too," he said.

He Wan nodded.

"Good. You two stay. The other two—" she looked at the old man and young woman—"you can leave. There's a car waiting outside."

The old man stood, walked out. The young woman followed, pausing at the door to look back, then vanished into the passage.

The hall held only Shen Yue, Chen Mo, He Wan, and the humming fate interferometer.

——

Preparations for activation took three days.

He Wan had them check every metal ring, adjust every angle, calculate the intensity of every arc. Shen Yue didn't understand the complex formulas, could only help carry things, pass tools. Chen Mo had studied some engineering—memories from a past life—and could help more.

On the third night, He Wan called them to the control panel.

"We activate tomorrow morning," she said. "After activation, you'll have three seconds. In those three seconds, you need to do one thing."

"What?" Chen Mo asked.

He Wan pulled two sheets of paper from a drawer, handed one to each.

On them were coordinates. One east, one west. Both in the mountains.

"These are where we buried backup devices thirty years ago," she said. "In those three seconds, you must simultaneously press the activation buttons on those two devices. Only simultaneous activation creates resonance, enough to completely disrupt Thousand Eyes' gaze."

Shen Yue looked at his coordinates.

"How do we get there?"

"Teleportation," He Wan said. "When the fate interferometer activates, it will briefly warp space. I'll send you to those two locations. You'll have three seconds. After three seconds, the teleportation will fail. You'll have to get back on your own."

"How?"

He Wan looked at him, silent for a moment.

"May not be possible," she said.

Shen Yue understood.

Chen Mo understood too.

Neither spoke.

——

That night, Shen Yue couldn't sleep again.

He lay in bed, thinking of Lin Xiaohé. Three days without seeing her. Would she think he'd disappeared? Would she wait for him by the river to fish?

He wanted to leave her a message. But he had no paper, no pen, and no way to deliver it anyway. And even if he could, whether he'd return alive was uncertain.

He closed his eyes, tried to picture her face. Those clean eyes, that pure smile.

He thought, if he died tomorrow, at least he'd made a choice that was his own.

That was his.

——

Dawn came.

He Wan stood before the fate interferometer, paler than usual. Her hands trembled slightly, but her voice was steady.

"Ready?"

Shen Yue and Chen Mo nodded.

"Remember, only three seconds. Must press simultaneously. After pressing, take cover immediately—energy feedback could be intense."

She began operating. The rings spun faster, arcs grew denser, the hum rising to a shriek. The whole hall shook, lights flickering.

"Step into the circles!"

Shen Yue looked down. A glowing circle appeared at his feet. Chen Mo stood in another, about ten metres away.

Across that distance, they looked at each other.

Chen Mo smiled at him.

Shen Yue smiled back.

Then——

White light.

——

When Shen Yue opened his eyes, he stood in a forest.

The sky was black. Not night-black, but the black of a dark period—no light, no sound, nothing.

He looked down, still clutching the paper. The coordinates were there, but useless now. He didn't know where he was, didn't know where the backup device was.

He had three seconds.

One second.

He wanted to run, but didn't know where. Everything around was black.

Two seconds.

He remembered He Wan's words: energy feedback could be intense. If he couldn't press the button now, at least——

He crouched, covered his head with his arms.

Three seconds.

White light flashed again.

——

When he woke, someone was crying.

Not loud crying, but stifled, choked sobs. Very close.

He moved his fingers. They moved. He moved his feet. They moved.

He opened his eyes. Metal ceiling. Harsh white light. Familiar.

He was back in the hall.

Slowly, he sat up. He saw He Wan lying motionless on the floor. Chen Mo knelt beside her, head bowed, shoulders shaking.

Shen Yue stood, walked over.

He looked at He Wan's face. Eyes closed, a trace of blood at the corner of her mouth. Chest still.

"She......" Shen Yue began.

Chen Mo looked up, eyes red.

"The energy feedback hit her," he said. "When I got back, she was already......"

Shen Yue crouched, looked at He Wan.

She still held the position she'd been in while operating, one hand reaching towards the control panel. That hand was thin, skin and bone, covered in age spots.

A question occurred to him.

"Did you press the button?"

Chen Mo nodded.

"I did. The teleport put me three metres from the device, I just ran and pressed it. You?"

Shen Yue paused.

"I didn't. I couldn't find the device."

Chen Mo froze.

"Then......"

Shen Yue stood, walked to the control panel. The screen showed two data sets—one from Chen Mo's location, marked "activated." The other from Shen Yue's, marked "no response."

He stared at those words for a long time.

"Only one activated," he said. "Will it work?"

No one answered.

He Wan was dead.

——

They buried He Wan on the slope behind the base.

No coffin, no headstone, just a mound of earth. Chen Mo found some stones, piled them as a marker. Shen Yue stood beside him, looking at the distant mountains.

The sky was light. The sun still shone.

"Do you think," Chen Mo began, "has the world changed?"

Shen Yue shook his head. "Don't know."

They stood there, silent for a long time.

Then Shen Yue felt a chill.

Not from the weather—a cold seeping from his very bones. He looked up at the sky. Still light. But he knew that feeling—pierced by countless gazes simultaneously.

Thousand Eyes.

It was still there.

"It's still watching me," he said.

Chen Mo turned. "What?"

"Thousand Eyes. It's still watching me."

Chen Mo's face changed.

They ran back into the base, into the hall, to the control panel. Shen Yue stared at the screen. It showed chaotic waveforms he couldn't interpret. But one number flickered——

99.7%.

That was Thousand Eyes' coverage. It still watched 99.7% of timelines. Only 0.3% missing.

That 0.3% was them.

"It didn't work," Chen Mo said, his voice bitter. "Only one device activated, not enough."

Shen Yue said nothing.

He stood there, watching that number. 99.7%. Just 0.3% short. They'd risked everything, someone had died, and all they'd gained was a 0.3% gap.

And now, he was back under Thousand Eyes' gaze.

That free 0.3 seconds, gone.

——

They left the base that night.

Chen Mo said it wasn't safe anymore. The gods knew what they'd done, knew they'd tried to disrupt Thousand Eyes. They'd be hunted—not by the government, but by something more direct.

"What?" Shen Yue asked.

Chen Mo shook his head. "Don't know. But He Wan said before, most experiment participants died within three days, mysteriously."

They walked all night.

Dawn found them on a hilltop, looking down at the distant city. The city Shen Yue came from. Where Lin Xiaohé was.

"I'm going back," he said.

Chen Mo looked at him. "You sure? Going back might endanger her."

Shen Yue knew.

But he still wanted to go.

Not because he wanted to see her. Because he didn't know if he'd ever see her again.

"What about you?" he asked Chen Mo.

Chen Mo thought. "I'll go north. There's another Wall Breaker outpost. He Wan told me before she died."

They stood on the hilltop, watching the sun slowly rise.

"Until we meet again," Chen Mo said.

"Until we meet again."

Chen Mo turned north. Shen Yue watched his figure disappear into the trees, then turned south.

Towards the city that held Lin Xiaohé.

——

He walked for a day and a night.

The next evening, he stood outside Lin Xiaohé's door.

The vegetables still grew in the yard. The door was closed. He knocked.

No answer.

He knocked again.

Still no answer.

He pushed the door open, went inside. The room was empty. The bedding on the bed was neatly folded. On the table sat a bamboo basket——the one she'd woven herself, the leaky one.

In the basket lay a dried fish.

Shen Yue stood there, looking at that fish, a sense of dread creeping over him.

He turned and ran out, to the neighbour's. An old woman was in the yard, feeding chickens.

"Grandma, where's Lin Xiaohé?"

The old woman looked up at him, eyes blank.

"Who?"

Shen Yue's heart went cold.

"Lin Xiaohé. The girl who lives next door."

The old woman shook her head. "No one lives next door. Been empty for three years."

Shen Yue froze.

Three years?

He'd only been gone six days.

He ran back to Lin Xiaohé's house, looked again. The bedding was neatly folded, but covered with a thin layer of dust. The bamboo basket on the table, spiderwebs at its edges. The dried fish, its eyes sunken, hard as stone.

Not six days.

Much longer.

Slowly, he walked to the yard, to the grave where they'd buried the old man. The wooden board was still there, but the characters were faint.

"Wall Breaker" was barely a scratch.

He crouched, stared at that board.

Then he felt a chill.

Not the chill of being watched. Another chill.

The chill of forgetting.

He was starting to forget Lin Xiaohé's face.

Those clean eyes, that pure smile——they were fading from his memory, like old photographs soaked in water.

He tried desperately to remember. Her face as she caught fish, as she roasted fish, as she said "live one life like ten."

But those images grew fainter.

He only knew there was someone.

Someone very important.

But he couldn't remember who.

——

That night, Shen Yue sat in the yard, looking at the sky.

The stars were still there. The moon was still there. But something was different.

Lin Xiaohé had been erased.

Not Purge-day erasure, but something more complete——vanishing from everyone's memory, from all records. Even he, the one who might have remembered her, was slowly forgetting.

But he remembered one thing.

He remembered once, without thought, helping an old man.

He remembered standing before a fate interferometer, making a choice.

He remembered, for someone, wanting to change this world.

Who that someone was, he could no longer recall.

But he remembered the feeling.

That feeling of acting without thought.

He sat in the darkness, watching the stars, until dawn.