SES Chapter 228

Chapter 228

Back in the corridor again.

Xiao Qi hummed that old “Broken Bamboo, Joined Bamboo” tune as it swung Mu Dai’s shoes from one hand.

Mu Dai glanced down at the ground. The passageway wasn’t rough underfoot; shoes hardly mattered. She peeled off her socks and stepped barefoot onto the floor. Fine grains of sand pressed lightly against her soles—the same sand that had once trickled down from the dial above. Were these grains her years, her experiences, her life itself?

“Xiao Qi,” she said, “you’ve told me a lot of lies, haven’t you?”

The humming cut off abruptly. Its voice turned indignant. “What? No! I’m a good person!”

“So you really want to help me get out?”

“Of course, of course.”

“If you’re so kind, why were you always hurting people in that other world—but here you act like a saint? I’ve never heard of this ‘Four Mirage Towers,’ but I know what a mirage is—an atmospheric illusion.”

“My real life is still in that world. This place is just one layer of illusion—like a maze. You’ve been interfering, blocking me, trying to stop me from leaving.”

“Have I? Have I?” Xiao Qi’s long body went limp as it sprawled on the ground like a sulking child, ready to roll around. “You’re accusing me unfairly.”

“You’ve spent too long among humans,” Mu Dai said. “You learned to look human, talk human—and learned how to lie cleverly. But whether someone is good or not isn’t decided by what they say about themselves.”

She stepped over Xiao Qi and walked on—steady, unhurried, certain.

It lay there for a while, then shouted after her, “Hey! You’re blaming me! If you won’t play with me, I’m leaving!”

She ignored it.

Some demons wear smiling faces and act adorable—but they’re still demons.

One of Xiao Qi’s thin arms slid slowly into the rock wall of the corridor. On the other side, it drifted about until it grasped another vicious scroll-arm. A moment later, it let out a strange giggle, withdrew the arm, and hurried after Mu Dai.

—Wow, you got mad so easily.
—Just kidding.
—Fine, fine, I’ll tell you the truth.

Mu Dai stopped. “What truth?”

“There are five entrances to the Four Mirage Towers—metal, wood, water, fire, earth—like a five-pointed star. You five are each walking your own corridor, all heading toward the center.”

“The center is the exit. The door is there.”

“If only one person arrives, it won’t open. You need at least two people. Got it? At least two.”

Mu Dai weighed its words. “Is that really so hard? Sounds simple. Why did the others fail before?”

Xiao Qi shrieked. “Simple? You interfered with your past—you know there are countless possible outcomes! If Wenwen had run away instead of coming back to save you, wouldn’t your life be different? Tell me!”

“You’re lucky—you’re still on the ‘normal’ track. But your friends? Can you guarantee they’re still heading the same direction as you?”

It suddenly straightened, pointing sharply at the rippling shadows beside them.

Mu Dai followed its finger. In the flickering waves, she saw a familiar bar entrance:

“Gather and Part by Fate.”

She instinctively glanced up at the sundial—the shadow had reached about a quarter of the disk. By that timeline, Wan San should be working there, and she herself was about to encounter the story of the vicious scrolls.

Can you guarantee your friends are still on the same path?

Just verify it—just once.

Clenching her teeth, she stepped forward, but Xiao Qi stopped her with a sly, almost gleeful tone. “Before, your life mostly repeated itself—two versions of you would appear in the ripple. But if it stops repeating…”

“What happens then?”

“Then there’s only one of you.”

Mu Dai didn’t fully understand, but she stepped into the scene.

Yunnan. Lijiang. Blue sky, low clouds. On clear days, you could glimpse the snowy peaks of Jade Dragon Snow Mountain—though the snowline rose higher every year. Aunt Hong once sighed that maybe in a few decades there’d be no snow left at all.

Mu Dai pushed open the bar’s courtyard gate. Uncle Zhang was decorating the outer wall, stringing colorful bottles with wire and hanging them in rows. When he saw her, he smiled. “Little boss lady!”

Her scalp tingled.

This time was different—he could see her. She didn’t need to merge with another version of herself. There was only one Mu Dai here. So this was what Xiao Qi meant by “no more repetition.”

Why had it changed?

She looked toward the bar. Behind the counter, a bartender with bleached hair and huge silver earrings practiced flair tricks.

Her heart pounded. “Uncle Zhang… where’s Wan San?”

He frowned. “Wan San? Never heard of him. Only know Shen Wansan.”

Her heart sank.

Wan San had never appeared.

This was a shared illusion for five people—their lives intertwined. Xiao Qi was right: this world was full of variables, shaped by all five, not just her.

Sweat beaded on her forehead. Uncle Zhang nudged her. “Little boss lady, what are you staring at? The boss is calling you.”

She forced a smile and went inside.

Huo Zihong beckoned gently. “Mu Dai, do Aunt Hong a favor.” She handed over a note. “Go to Chongqing—this address.”

At the bottom was a scrawled remark:

—Old Nine Hot Pot.

Chongqing. Jiefangbei. Cable car. Wan Fenghuo…

Her eyes widened. That was where she first met Luo Ren and Cao Yanhua!

Back in the corridor, she quickly scanned nearby ripple scenes—airport, hotel… there! Jiefangbei. She stepped in.

Morning mist drifted over the river; the cable cars had begun running, and the first wave of tourists buzzed with excitement. Mu Dai couldn’t remember when she originally rode the cable car, so she just kept riding back and forth without leaving the station.

She left her phone half-exposed in her outer pocket. Someone tapped her shoulder—her heart leapt, thinking it was Cao Yanhua—but it was an elderly man reminding her kindly, “Miss, keep your phone safe, or it’ll get stolen.”

She forgot even to thank him.

She missed her meeting at Old Nine Hot Pot, riding the cable car again and again. The ticket clerk eventually recognized her and joked, “This girl might ride till nightfall.”

By noon, the fog thinned. The car swayed, cables creaked overhead, tourists laughed and snapped photos—but Mu Dai stared blankly at the opposite cars.

Luo Ren should have appeared—but he didn’t. Sometimes she spotted Xiao Qi hanging eerily from the cables like it was on a jungle gym.

Her phone stayed half-exposed, waiting for a thief who never came.

Near dusk, Aunt Hong called, asking if she’d met Mr. Wan. “I’m not feeling well today,” Mu Dai murmured, hanging up quickly before she could cry.

By ten that night, the cable cars stopped running. She drifted out with the last crowd and sat on some roadside steps, lost.

Wind picked up, trash skittered across the pavement, plastic bags floated by, car lights tangled chaotically, and brakes screeched.

Luo Ren never came. Cao Yanhua never appeared. Their lives must have veered off in unknown directions—and she sat there helpless.

Rustling came from the eaves. Xiao Qi’s olive-shaped head dangled down. “Hey… life’s unpredictable. Not your fault.”

After a long silence, she asked, “How does time pass outside? How long has it been in the real world?”

“Maybe a year or two,” Xiao Qi said.

A year or two… would dust have settled on her body by now?

“Come on,” it urged. “Don’t get depressed. You still have that friend Hong Sha—you know where she lives. Go find her.”

Hong Sha… right. Soon she would ask her senior brother for work and be taken to Kunming, to Old Yan’s house.

She jumped up excitedly—then hesitated. “What about Luo Ren and the others?”

“Forget them. If they didn’t appear when they were supposed to, their life paths have already twisted away. Remember—one person can’t open the door. You need at least two. Better pray you can find Hong Sha.”

It leapt down and wrapped its long arm around hers. “Let’s go.”

Ahead, the ripple shimmered like a curtain of falling light.

Suddenly, brakes screeched, headlights flashed wildly, and someone shouted behind her—

“Little Master! Little Master! It’s me—Fatty Cao!”