The Game of All Beings

Chapter Five: The Editing Room

Shen Yue fell through the river of light.

No, not down. In all directions at once. Up, down, left, right, front, back—all lost their meaning. He only felt himself moving, travelling through those silver rivers, like a leaf swept away by the current.

He clung desperately to the bamboo basket.

The light around him flowed too fast for him to see anything clearly. Those images—faces, tree shadows, house outlines—all streaked past in brilliant colours. Occasional sounds drifted over, half a sentence, the tail end of a laugh, a sob, then swallowed by the greater roar.

He didn't know how long passed.

Here, time had no meaning.

He only knew he was searching for someone. Someone whose face he couldn't remember. Someone for whom he carried this basket.

Suddenly, he hit something.

Not hard—soft, like hitting cotton. The roaring currents of light vanished, silence fell. He found himself standing in a grey space. Grey underfoot, grey overhead, grey in the distance. Nothing.

Except one person.

A woman, her back to him, sitting not far away.

She sat on the ground, knees drawn up, arms wrapped around them, head buried in her knees. Motionless, like a statue.

Shen Yue walked towards her.

As he drew closer, he saw she wasn't real. She was translucent, like a shadow formed from thin gauze. Through her body, he could see the grey ground beyond.

"Hello," Shen Yue said.

She didn't react.

He crouched, looked at her. A young woman, long hair, wearing old-fashioned clothes. Her face was calm, eyes closed, as if sleeping.

He reached out to touch her.

His hand passed through her. Cool, but not cold—a coolness without temperature, like touching air.

He withdrew his hand, stood.

Where was this? Who were these people?

He walked on.

The grey space stretched endlessly. He walked for a long time—perhaps a long time, perhaps just a moment—and saw another person. Another old man, also translucent, also sitting on the ground, knees drawn up, head buried in them.

Then a third. A fourth. A fifth.

More and more.

Some sat, some lay, some stood. But all the same—translucent, motionless, eyes closed, as if sleeping.

Shen Yue stood among them, and suddenly understood where he was.

The editing room.

Those discarded timelines, those** people—they were all here.

——

He walked on.

Through group after group of sleeping figures. Some wore ancient clothes, some modern, some he'd never seen. Some were very old, some young, some children, tiny, curled up like translucent shadows.

He was looking for Lin Xiaohé.

But he didn't know what she looked like.

He could only rely on feeling. On that hollow place, on this basket. He passed each sleeping figure, crouched to look at their faces, hoping that hollow place would respond somehow.

Nothing.

All unfamiliar.

He walked for a long time. Long enough that his legs grew weak, long enough that he began to wonder if he was circling.

Then he heard a sound.

Not speech—laughter.

Someone was laughing.

He followed the sound. Through more sleeping shadows, he saw someone standing.

A girl. Translucent, like the others. But not sleeping. She stood, looking into the distance—towards nothing but grey mist—and suddenly laughed.

Not a bitter laugh, not a fake laugh. A real laugh. Laughing so hard her eyes crinkled, her shoulders shook.

Looking at that laugh, something flashed in Shen Yue's mind.

He walked towards her.

As he drew closer, he saw her face. Fifteen or sixteen, hair casually tied, eyes——

Eyes were open. Unlike the others, her eyes were open.

She was still laughing. Laughing, she suddenly spoke: "Got one!"

Shen Yue froze.

Hearing those words, that hollow place suddenly ached.

"Lin Xiaohé?" he said.

The girl turned to look at him.

Her eyes were very bright. In the grey space, they were like two lamps.

"You know me?" she asked.

——

Shen Yue opened his mouth, but couldn't speak.

Did he know her? He couldn't remember her face. But that laugh, those words, those eyes—they made that hollow place ache unbearably.

"I......" he said, "I don't know."

The girl tilted her head, looking at him curiously.

"How did you get in?" she asked. "Only people who've been cut can come here. You're not cut, are you? You have colour."

Shen Yue looked down at himself. He did have colour—his hands were flesh-toned, his clothes grey-blue, the basket bamboo-yellow. In this grey space, he was like a colour photograph dropped into a black-and-white one.

"I'm looking for someone," he said.

"Who?"

"You."

The girl paused, then laughed. Not the "got one" laugh, but another, curious and puzzled.

"Why?"

Shen Yue held up the basket.

"This is yours."

The girl took it, turned it over in her hands. As she looked, her expression changed.

"This......" She touched the rough joints, the places bound with fine twine. "I made this."

"I know."

"How do you know?"

Shen Yue thought, unsure how to answer. Finally he said: "Because I can't remember."

The girl looked at him, said nothing.

"I can't remember who you are," Shen Yue said. "But I remember there was you. Remember this basket. Remember that hollow place. So I came looking for you."

The girl was silent for a long time.

Then she looked down at the basket in her hands.

"My name is Lin Xiaohé," she said. "I died once."

——

She told her story.

Simply. She was a blank slate, fifteen, parents dead, living alone in the west of the city. One day she met someone. That someone fished with her, roasted fish with her, helped her bury a dead old man.

"What was that someone's name?" Shen Yue asked.

Lin Xiaohé thought, then shook her head.

"Can't remember," she said. "When you're cut, you forget a lot. I remember there was someone, but not who."

That hollow place in Shen Yue's chest ached again.

That someone was him.

But he couldn't remember her, she couldn't remember him. They both remembered the other existed, but neither remembered who.

"What happened next?" he asked.

"Then one day, I made a choice," Lin Xiaohé said. "I don't remember what choice. But after I made it, I ended up here."

She looked at the sleeping figures around them.

"They're all cut. Everyone here made a choice they shouldn't have. Made it, and got thrown here, to sleep forever. I don't know why I didn't fall asleep."

Shen Yue remembered Chen Mo's words—maybe blank slates always retain a little bit of blankness. Maybe that little bit was why she remained awake here.

"Do you want to get out?" he asked.

Lin Xiaohé looked at him.

"Can we?"

"I don't know," Shen Yue said. "But I can try."

——

He held out his hand.

Lin Xiaohé looked at it, hesitated, then held out hers.

Their hands met.

Cool. Not living warmth, but not exactly cold. Just cool, like autumn river water.

"Come on," Shen Yue said.

He pulled her, walking back. Past the sleeping figures, through the grey space. He didn't know where the exit was, could only go by feel—towards where he'd come from.

They walked for a long time.

The grey space didn't change, the sleeping figures remained the same. Shen Yue began to suspect they were circling. But he didn't dare stop, kept walking.

Suddenly, he felt something.

A chill. That cold seeping from his bones.

Thousand Eyes.

He looked up. In the grey sky, something had appeared. Not a bird—an eye. A giant eye, opening in the grey mist, staring at them.

Then a second. A third. A fourth.

Countless eyes, densely packed, filling the entire sky.

"Don't look," Shen Yue pulled Lin Xiaohé down, heads bowed.

Those eyes stared, motionless. Shen Yue could feel those gazes piercing his body, countless needles stabbing in.

Then a sound came.

Not a human voice—pure sound, like metal grinding, like electrical hum, like ten thousand birds singing at once.

The sound said:

"Found you."

——

Shen Yue grabbed Lin Xiaohé and ran.

No direction, just ran. Those eyes followed, wherever they went, those giant eyes were always above.

Lin Xiaohé's hand trembled in his.

"What do they want?" she asked.

"To take us back," Shen Yue said.

"Back where?"

Shen Yue didn't answer. He knew—erasure. Not sleep, but complete disappearance. Because they were people who shouldn't exist, not in any timeline, uncontrollable variables.

The eyes began pressing down.

The grey sky lowered, the eyes drew closer. Shen Yue could see the pupils of each eye, and in each pupil, their own reflections.

Then——

A light.

Not from the eyes. Another light. Rising from beneath their feet, pale white, like moonlight through thin clouds.

Shen Yue looked down. A c***k opened beneath them. Like when he'd entered, below the c***k were countless silver rivers.

"Jump!" He pulled Lin Xiaohé, and jumped.

The eyes pursued. He could feel those gazes on his back, countless hands trying to drag him back.

They fell.

Fell into the river of light.

The silver rivers surrounded them again. Light streaked past, images flickering. Shen Yue clung to Lin Xiaohé's hand, afraid to let go.

They fell for what seemed an eternity.

Suddenly, they hit something. Soft, warm.

Shen Yue opened his eyes. He lay on the ground. Above, metal ceiling, harsh white light. Beside him, Chen Mo, looking down.

"You're back," Chen Mo said.

Shen Yue sat up, looked around.

Lin Xiaohé lay beside him, eyes closed, motionless.

"She......" he began.

Chen Mo crouched, felt for breath.

"Alive," he said. "Or rather, 'existing.' She exists."

Shen Yue looked down at her. Still translucent. Through her body, he could see the ground beneath.

But her eyes moved.

Then slowly opened.

She looked at Shen Yue, then at Chen Mo, then at the metal ceiling above.

"Where is this?" she asked.

Shen Yue didn't answer. He just looked at her, at those eyes. Still bright, still shining.

Suddenly, he remembered something.

That hollow place—it didn't ache anymore.

——

They destroyed the fate interferometer completely.

Chen Mo said keeping it was pointless, it had been overloaded too many times. Besides, they didn't need to go back in.

The three stood on the hillside, looking at the building hidden in the mountain.

Lin Xiaohé stood beside Shen Yue, holding the basket. Still translucent, sunlight passing through her, casting a faint shadow.

"Will I always be like this?" she asked.

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

"Can I still catch fish?"

Beside them, Chen Mo laughed softly.

Shen Yue laughed too.

"Yes," he said. "I'll teach you."

Lin Xiaohé looked at him, head tilted.

"You can catch fish?"

"Yes. You taught me."

Lin Xiaohé paused, then smiled. That smile, exactly as in his memory—pure, clean, untainted.

"Then I must have taught you well," she said.

They stood on the hillside, looking at the distant mountains. The sky was blue, the clouds white, the sun warm on their skin.

A question occurred to Shen Yue.

"What was that choice?" he asked. "The one that got you cut?"

Lin Xiaohé thought.

"I don't remember," she said. "But it must have been something important."

She looked down at the basket in her hands.

"Maybe it was choosing not to forget someone."

Shen Yue said nothing.

He looked at the sky. The sun was a little lower. The world was still shrinking, the dark periods would come again, the gods were still there. They were just three people—a translucent blank slate, a three-hundred-year reincarnate, a boy searching for his mother.

But they'd done something the gods hadn't anticipated.

They'd brought someone out of the editing room.

If one person could be brought out, could there be a second? A third? Those sleeping figures, those who'd been cut—could they all be brought out?

He didn't know.

But he knew one thing.

The sun would set, and rise again. Even if it sank lower each day, even if the world shrank day by day, as long as someone remembered, as long as someone kept searching, it wasn't over.

"Come on," he said. "Down the mountain."

The three walked down. Lin Xiaohé in the middle, the basket bobbing on her back.

Shen Yue glanced back at the building. It had partially collapsed, a dark silhouette against the setting sun.

Then he walked on.

Towards that ever-shrinking world.