Lu Li's dark eyes fell on the dining table, where two pieces of paper that did not belong there lay atop the dust.

The oil lamp was placed at the edge of the table. He picked up the notes—one was in a script belonging to no known language, undecipherable and incomprehensible. The other read:

[I am Lu Li. This is the third time. In the previous two instances, there were inversions. The ceiling footprints hold the answer. Memories of earlier events are forgotten. This is a squalid sewer, and the house lacks clues. The window of the guest room upstairs is shattered, and there are five stones on the floor. Next, I will]

[There are other figures on the street. They enter a house with a wooden sign. Next, I will move closer there.]

This was his tone, his handwriting.

After a pause, Lu Li lifted his gaze to the ceiling, and in the dim and biased light of the oil lamp, discovered two pairs of footprints extending toward the doors and stairs as noted in the memo.

The dust on the floor allowed Lu Li to clearly see the chaotic wandering footprints, similarly extending toward the doors and stairs.

As he prepared to move the dining table to observe the ceiling footprints, Lu Li noticed a pair of footprints revealed by the shifted paper.

Lu Li extended his palm to compare the outlines, then tilted his head slightly, his gaze falling to the spot where the oil lamp was placed—a nearly overlapping impression of the lamp at that location.

Then, as he grasped the table edge to pull it, he noticed fresh scratches across the floor.

Moving the table to the end of the scratches, Lu Li lifted his head to observe the ceiling—the position corresponded exactly with the ceiling footprints.

Relocating a wooden chair, Lu Li stepped onto the wobbly, footprint-marked chair, climbed onto the dining table, and examined the traces on the ceiling.

This was something the "third-time" self had already done once.

Stepping down from the table, returning the table and chair to their original positions, Lu Li walked to the window and noticed a house with a wooden sign a hundred meters away. After quietly observing for a moment, he followed the footprints beneath his feet and ascended the stairs.

At the end of the hallway, the guest room window was shattered, five stones lay guilty on the floor.

The subsequent junk room, bedroom, and the inconspicuous "Martin and the Dog" bore no hidden clues.

Lu Li, who was investigating, returned to the living room and summoned Merchant Anthony, from whom he obtained the answer: previously, Lu Li had summoned the merchant three times.

It corresponded with the contents of the notes.

Before departing, Lu Li, like his previous self, prepared to leave a message.

[This is the fourth time. The authenticity of the previous note can't be confirmed, but the information is correct; Merchant Anthony said the same.]

Lu Li didn't record more details to persuade his future self because it was meaningless—he would confirm it just as he was doing now.

[The reason for the count is unknown, but it signifies something. Each time, the same living room area in this house appears. Given the continuity of time, I will next head to the third-time wooden house to search for clues. If I manage to leave a clue, I'll place it in the pocket]

Finishing the message, Lu Li copied the enigmatic note and placed it in his pocket, then felt another note.

A note that was also transcribed.

This task too had been done by the previous self.

Memory was like the shallows under a tide, with any trace left behind wiped out by the waves.

Lu Li pondered whether he could let Merchant Anthony leave a record, only the inertia of the previous three times kept him from doing so. After inquiring about the squalid sewer's information, Lu Li let Merchant Anthony leave.

Adding a final note to the still-wet message saying "check the pocket," Lu Li picked up the oil lamp and walked to the door.

Creak—

Stepping into the vast, silent world outside, Lu Li crossed the street without encountering anything strange, reaching the house with the wooden sign.

The door was open, contrary to the message, the house was silent.

Lu Li entered the house, seemingly exuding a flow of cold and dark; the old floorboards mingled with footprints. Indeed, many people had lingered here, yet for some reason, they seemed to have left.

Was he among them?

Thud—

Dust fell lightly, the sound echoed from upstairs beyond the ceiling.

Holding the oil lamp, Lu Li ascended the stairs to the second floor.

The presence upstairs, already aware of the uninvited guest from the sound of footsteps, cast indifferent glances as Lu Li appeared on the stairs, a twin reflection simultaneously existing on the ceiling and the floor.

Lu Li didn't sense malice from the two mannequin-like outlines, his gaze settled beyond them.

One of the outlines was bound to a wooden pillar with layers of rope from head to toe, akin to a rope person.

"He forgot the reason and mistakenly believed this was a contest, attacking us, so we subdued him," the mannequin boy on the floor said.

Lu Li didn't comment. His attention wasn't on them: "You don't recognize me?"

The twins shook their heads in unison. They didn't recognize Lu Li, nor had they seen him before.

"This person is left to you. We are about to leave," the boy on the floor said as he and his brother from the ceiling went to the window, reaching out to open it.

Lu Li watched as the boy extended his hand, holding onto each other, stepping over the window, and rising into the sky like balloons—

A muffled struggling sound brought Lu Li back, and he approached the bound outline.

The knots were tied with an unknown method. As Lu Li reached out to touch them, they instantly came loose.

The released, disheveled figure knocked Lu Li aside, scrambling down the stairs, swiftly vanishing.

Lu Li didn't pursue the fleeing figure but walked to the window and raised his head to peer out.

In the dark void, the silhouettes of the twin boys were no longer visible, yet something was emerging in the dim depths of the street—

Bang!

An unheralded figure collided with Lu Li, covering his mouth and whispering in a suppressed voice: "Shhh... don't... let them... find us... they're... hunting us."

"Who are 'they'?"

Lu Li halted his defensive action, recognizing the silhouette that had returned.

"The residents here... contestants who have died too many times..." He dragged Lu Li away from the window.

"Times" triggered a realization in Lu Li, as if nearing the truth of the matter: "What does dying too many times mean?"

"Each death... we lose memory, deepen connection... don't die! Death will trap us here forever! Don't die... don't die!"

The figure's mental state deteriorating, muttering frenziedly.

But it was enough for Lu Li to connect all the clues.

Why his footprints appeared on the ceiling, why this was the fourth time.

Lu Li took out the paper from his pocket, briefly recording the discovered truth.

"Don't die... don't die..."

The murmuring continued behind him, abruptly stopping.

Plop—

Lu Li stopped writing, clutching the note tightly.

And before he could turn around, an icy chill crept silently into his soul.

...

A gloom enshrouded in deep mist.

The dim oil lamp gradually brightened, dispelling the darkness, revealing a figure holding an oil lamp.

The amber glow spread, revealing more things hidden in the darkness.

Lu Li raised the oil lamp, revealing a long-unattended, aged living room before him. A ceiling fan hung overhead, disorderly bowls and spoons lay abandoned on the dining table, the windows veiled in dust like sheer curtains.

Lowering his head, Lu Li looked at the wad of paper clenched in his left hand.

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