Chapter 2: On the Brink of Collapse

Hong Xiaoduo struggled to calm herself down. She had repeatedly confirmed that the people in ancient costumes she saw were truly not modern actors, and this place was definitely not a film studio. She wondered if she just needed to follow the script she chose, like in a movie, and once it ended, she could return to reality.

She recalled the staff at the science museum mentioning that the experience lasted ninety minutes—the length of a movie. She also remembered selecting a skill or equipment, seemingly choosing "space."

As soon as the word "space" popped into her mind, a door actually appeared before her eyes. She truly had a space.

But that wasn’t the main point. The real issue was that when she entered the space she had chosen, it was literally empty. She was quite frustrated—knowing she had selected it, why had she forgotten to add any needed items inside? The space was barren, lacking silver, food—just a bare shell.

She felt powerless to complain; what was the use of such a space if it was empty? Was it just for shelter from the rain? Or did a specific task have to be completed before rewards would appear inside?

Why hadn’t she checked the detailed notes about the space? At this point, Hong Xiaoduo could only curse herself silently—stupid!

Yes, stupid. Otherwise, she should have sensed something was off when the museum staff excitedly looked at her ID, when the old curator personally greeted her and asked for her birth time.

But she hadn’t noticed, and even smugly joked about going to buy lottery tickets.

"Hey, hey, don’t all look like you’re about to be abandoned. No crying allowed! Since I saved you, I won’t leave you alone until I find a proper place to settle you down," Xiaoduo warned fiercely, unable to ponder the mystery of the space for now.

She didn’t want to be so harsh, but she simply didn’t know how to soothe children!

Hearing this, the little ones who were about to cry quickly pursed their lips and tried hard to hold back their tears.

"That’s better. Wait here, I’ll be back soon," Xiaoduo said, relieved to see they hadn’t cried. She then set off toward a nearby forest.

At this time of year, finding edible wild vegetables or mushrooms could stave off hunger.

“Mom, we won’t cry. We’ll wait here obediently for you to come back,” a timid voice behind her made Xiaoduo stagger, nearly losing her balance. Steadying herself and pressing a hand to her chest, she reminded herself not to be angry—she had brought this trouble upon herself and would have to bear it.

Solutions come from people; there must be a way to solve the children’s problems.

Who was she, anyway? Who was she?

She should have blurted out her identity, but instead she got stuck, unable to remember who she was or what she was good at. She tried hard to recall but was met only with a splitting headache.

Had her brain been damaged by the electroencephalogram cap in the experience chamber? Or had the strange old curator deliberately erased her memories?

The pain in her head combined with hunger was unbearable, forcing Hong Xiaoduo to give up on trying to recall.

She wasn’t calm enough to say, “Since I’m here, I’ll make the best of it.” She needed to fill her stomach first before worrying about anything else.

Before entering the forest, she glanced back and saw all the children facing her.

From this distance, she could clearly see the expressions on their faces—each one gazing at her with wide eyes, anxious and nervous. They were afraid but didn’t dare to follow her, their pitiful looks seeming to say they’d been abandoned.

Xiaoduo felt a sharp prick in her heart, a bit of pain, and silently blamed herself for being too harsh with them—after all, they were just children!

Yesterday, when she saw them abused, she reminded herself that this was a virtual experience; the people and events were not real and she shouldn’t get too immersed.

But since regaining consciousness, everything she felt had been overwhelmingly real.

To verify, she had even pinched herself hard. The pain was real—the bruises still visible on her arm.

It was precisely because of this that she intervened and saved the children.

But who was to blame?

It was raining; she could have gone back to the hotel, which had a swimming pool, gym, café, and bar. If nothing else, she could have watched TV or played games in her room.

Why had she been tempted by food? And why had she chosen to shelter from the rain right outside the science museum? Why had she fallen for the staff’s coaxing and gone inside?

Now, she was an amnesiac. She didn’t know where she lived, who her family was, or what she originally did.

On top of that, she had to take care of a group of kids, the youngest only about four or five years old—not exactly able to move quickly.

At first, she thought it didn’t matter; if they called her “mom,” so be it—it wasn’t real anyway. Once this experience ended, everything would be over.

But when the eerie smile of the old curator flashed through her mind, Hong Xiaoduo felt uneasy. This bizarre situation might not end as simply as the ninety-minute experience time.

No, she needed to find a safe place for these children as soon as possible. Since the story wasn’t unfolding as she had planned, who knew what would happen next? She definitely couldn’t keep them with her.

As she walked farther away, the pitiful looks of the children and their fearful calls of “Mom” faded out of sight and earshot. The mountain breeze soothed her restless heart a little.

Her hand brushed the sword at her waist, and she thought back to the intense scene of saving the children yesterday.

The man who abused them had a burnt scar on his left cheek; even his unblemished right side looked sinister.

He sat beneath the city wall, holding a wine jug in one hand and a chicken in the other, taking a bite of meat and a sip of wine while two children massaged his back and legs. The rest of the kids knelt nearby, trembling.

He not only criticized the two children serving him, complaining the massage was too light, but then slapped one of them. The child’s face swelled immediately and blood dripped from his mouth.

Then he scolded the other for gripping too hard and kicked him down; the child lay still for a while before recovering.

The other kneeling children hesitated to come forward, afraid of the man.

The two abused children didn’t dare cry out and continued serving him, suggesting this was a frequent occurrence.

The man cursed and spat out bones onto the ground, ordering the children to crawl over and gnaw on them while imitating dog barks. He laughed loudly.

Passersby just shook their heads in pity at the children and walked away.

Hong Xiaoduo, snapping herself back to reality, kept reminding herself silently: “Don’t get emotional, it’s fake, it’s all fake, just part of the story, don’t take it seriously.”

But the man seemed bored of watching the children gnaw on bones and called other kids to come fight for the bones, promising that whoever won wouldn’t be punished.

Hong Xiaoduo imagined the cruel scene about to unfold and wanted to walk away, but surprisingly none of the kneeling children obeyed the man’s command to fight over the bone.

Though afraid, they refused to do as he said.

The man, enraged by their disobedience, stood up and charged at the children.

As he raised his foot to kick, the two children massaging him knelt, clutching his legs, begging him to spare their companions.

This only made the man angrier. He swung the wine jug—made of porcelain—hitting one child’s forehead, instantly cracking the jug and drawing blood.

Yet the man wasn’t finished. Holding the broken jug’s spout, he aimed to jab another child’s face.

Hong Xiaoduo panicked. She grabbed a stone she had been holding and hurled it at the man.

At that moment, shouting at him wouldn’t have helped. When she threw the stone, she hoped it would hit his face. She figured hitting his body wouldn’t hurt much, given his tough skin and flesh. She didn’t expect to be so accurate.

Even after releasing the stone, she worried: what if it hit a child?

But fate intervened—the egg-sized stone struck the man’s face.

He screamed in agony, clutching his nose, staggering backward. The two children immediately let go of his legs, and the man fell flat on his back.

Xiaoduo’s mouth fell open, amazed at her precision and strength.

The children, equally stunned, glanced first at the fallen man, then at her.

In that instant, time seemed to freeze. After a while, they all realized the man lying on the ground hadn’t moved at all.

“Stop standing there dumbfounded! Run!” Xiaoduo abandoned any plan to check if he was dead, sensing she had caused trouble but not fleeing alone.

The children looked to the eldest among them, who led them in following Hong Xiaoduo as they ran.

One adult and seven kids, all afraid the man might chase them. Those who tired stopped to rest, then continued running—yes, running—as fast as they could until they reached this spot.

“Was it just luck? Or because of my heroine background setting, do I really have the skill to strike true?” Hong Xiaoduo muttered to herself as she walked into the forest, gazing at her hand.

True or not, she thought, she would test it again.

Bending down, she picked up a small stone, weighing it in her hand, and looked ahead...