In a secluded corner where people rarely passed by, Jiang Kui’s words hung in the air, and Wu Zhanyu’s eyes involuntarily narrowed as her lips trembled uncontrollably.
She remained silent for a moment, stiffly nodding before hesitating and shaking her head.
Jiang Kui was unsurprised by her reaction and calmly continued, “Are there many ‘Jiù’?”
Wu Zhanyu: “……”
“Let me put it another way.” Jiang Kui paused briefly. “Is the name he goes by now actually his real name?”
The atmosphere seemed to chill. Wu Zhanyu didn’t respond immediately but fixed her gaze on Jiang Kui with a look full of meaning.
After a moment, Wu Zhanyu spoke, “I don’t know…” Her voice was dry. “At first, I thought it wasn’t… I just felt like they were forced to bear this name…”
A soft click sounded as someone’s shoe tapped the floor from upstairs.
Wu Zhanyu snapped awake like from a dream, her whole body trembling with nerves.
She gripped Jiang Kui’s shoulder tightly and leaned close to her ear, whispering, “There’s only this name, but it’s not the same. Anyone who discovers he’s different—him included, the results, everyone… dies.”
“So… you’re telling me to stop caring about it?”
Wu Zhanyu’s expression was confused, her eyes filled with deep fear and despair, yet her tone carried a faint warning.
“…” Jiang Kui quietly watched her, then placed her hand firmly on Wu Zhanyu’s shoulder and said, “You won’t die.”
Her calm and unshaken tone pressed directly against Wu Zhanyu, repeating: “You won’t die.”
Wu Zhanyu stared blankly at Jiang Kui, disbelief flooding her mind.
She had thought Jiang Kui was like the unfamiliar faces that had suddenly appeared before.
At first, Wu Zhanyu and the few classmates who could keep their wits welcomed these strange faces.
But later she realized it was all in vain—these strangers died even more easily than regular students, falling victim to the “Sleeve” team more often.
The more obsessed one was with finding a way out, the faster they died.
Wu Zhanyu’s emotions quickly cooled under Jiang Kui’s unusually composed demeanor.
Her eyelashes fluttered as she took two steps back and turned, running back to the classroom.
Jiang Kui did not follow. She stood still for a few seconds, eyes lowered, then quietly turned and walked back to Class Eight.
The two returned to the classroom one after the other. The short break was nearly over.
Just as they stepped inside, a tense and oppressive atmosphere hit them.
The group of five had once again gathered around Zhang Xue’s locker.
“Zhang Wen! What was Xu Xingyao looking for you just now?”
“Zhang Wen! Are you deaf? Didn’t you hear me?”
“Zhang Xue, Zhang Xue, Zhang Wen, Zhang Wen, Zhang Xue, Zhang Wen, Zhang Wen, Zhang Wen, Zhang Wen, Zhang Xue, Zhang Xue, Zhang Xue, Zhang Wen, Zhang Xue, Zhang Wen, Zhang Xue, Zhang Wen, Zhang Wen, Zhang Wen, Zhang Xue, Zhang Xue, Zhang Wen…”
Zhang Xue blinked.
The boy in front of her was not really Zhang Wen; he had been assigned Zhang Wen’s name.
Zhang Xue was a girl. Zhang Wen had a close female friend, the school heartthrob Xu Xingyao, and Yu Huan was close to Zhang Wen.
Anyone who discovered that “he” was different would die. “He” would also die.
More than one person had been given Zhang Wen’s identity.
Rule One: 【1. A name symbolizes identity; your name represents who you are.】
This was a rule exclusive to “Zhang Wen.”
Lunchtime.
“Hmm… so you’re saying ‘Zhang Wen’ isn’t a specific person, but an identity that can be forcibly assigned?”
Guan Zifei analyzed.
The five members of Team Three sat around a table, the mood growing heavy with the news Jiang Kui had brought.
“I have some news too.” Guan Zifei stretched lazily, his casual tone dispelling the thick tension hanging over everyone.
“Xu Xingyao… well, that handsome guy, it seems his close female friend likes him too.”
“Damn… that’s pretty interesting, isn’t it?”
Of course, the “close female friend” referred to Zhou Qing. What a messy tangled web of emotions this was…
Wu Zhanyu frowned deeply. Yuan Jie chuckled twice, “Worm… do you secretly enjoy reading romance novels?”
The information exchanged this time was deeply thought-provoking.
All afternoon classes ended, and the students poured out of the classrooms.
Jiang Kui had to stay behind to clean the classroom, punished by the Discipline Director.
Lin Lulu accompanied her, standing by the window ledge, squinting down at the flowing crowd.
“…What does ‘God’ want to do?” she murmured, clutching her head and looking at Jiang Kui. “Chaos is God’s handiwork. Inside the worm nest, chaos is normal. Logic within chaos… is even more troublesome than the strange.”
Lin Lulu’s lips twitched slightly.
“This worm nest… who knows if it’s the rules limiting the Sleeves or the Sleeves using the rules… The Class Leader is right: high-level queen worms have high intelligence too.”
Lin Lulu’s gaze dropped. “So far, even after figuring out what’s strange about Zhang Wen’s identity, I still don’t know what God’s purpose is.”
From the discovery of the worm nest until now, according to the organization’s calculations, it had existed for at least half a month.
The way out was already written in the rules—participate in the final exams and pass.
But neither Jiang Kui nor any member of the Extermination Team would naïvely believe that the way out would be as simple as the rules described.
Jiang Kui swept the front half of the classroom, Lin Lulu cleaned the back half.
While cleaning, the two searched the classroom for clues.
Jiang Kui pulled several forms from the desk drawer, information on impoverished students. Photos were attached, six in total, three of whom were members of the bullying group of five.
Judging from their clothes, shoes, and belongings, Jiang Kui didn’t feel the bullying group needed financial aid.
Jiang Kui folded the papers and walked toward the back of the classroom to show Lin Lulu.
Outside the window, the sunset’s light had grown dim, like broken egg yolks scattering a faint, dazzling glow.
Lin Lulu was standing in the back corner of the classroom, broom in hand, frowning as she observed something.
Seeing this, Jiang Kui remained silent, following her gaze.
“Is that blood…?” Lin Lulu asked suspiciously.
The dusk lazily spread throughout the classroom like a velvet carpet, gently covering the brown stains.
Besides the suspected blood stains, there were also marks of spilled water.
Following the dripping trail forward, it led all the way to the window, which also bore some traces along its edges.
The classroom was empty, so quiet one could hear a pin drop.
Jiang Kui stared at the stains for a long time. Suddenly, faint sounds seemed to ring in her ears—suppressed sobs, dull thuds of flesh hitting flesh, whispers of many people… gradually becoming clear from far to near.
A piercing, shrill scream exploded like thunder.
Jiang Kui and Lin Lulu instantly broke free from their hallucinations, looking up at each other.
“It’s an illusion.” Lin Lulu said.
Rule Ten: 【When you hear sounds resembling screams, crying, or heavy objects falling, do not pay attention; they are not real.】
But now was not the time to consider whether to “pay attention” or not.
Rule Five: 【The students on duty are responsible for cleaning the classroom and public areas. The hygiene inspection takes place on Tuesday at 6 PM. The duty students must wait in the classroom for the hygiene committee’s inspection, and if the inspection fails, they must continue cleaning until passing.】
6 PM was fast approaching.
At the same time, in the empty corridor, sudden rapid footsteps echoed abruptly.
A slender shadow silently reflected on the classroom door.
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