Chapter 139: Nothing More than Mindset
Bai Cha received a response very quickly.
“Hello, I have reviewed your resume. If you are free tomorrow or the day after, you can come over for an interview.”
Followed immediately by an address.
Bai Cha replied: “Alright, I can make it the day after tomorrow.”
“May I ask what time you will be arriving the day after tomorrow?”
“Around 10:00 AM.”
“Understood.”
Before locking her phone, Bai Cha sent a message to Xu Shengsheng, reminding her to let her know if she had any dreams, and to keep an eye on when she would be entering the next instance.
Then, she closed her eyes.
She couldn’t sleep; her mind was a complete jumble.
The physical pain made her itch to return to the game right this moment.
Because only there did she feel so effortless and unburdened.
Yet she couldn’t.
The power granted inside the game was nothing more than drinking poison to quench a thirst.
She would feel the drag of her real body more and more intensely, growing increasingly desperate to return to the game.
She had spent significantly less time connected to reality than others to begin with.
Abandoning reality wouldn’t actually be such a bad thing.
Her parents were gone anyway, so all she needed to do was visit her aunt periodically; she could even take care of Xu Shengsheng inside the game.
She wouldn’t need to look for a job or worry about money, because she was confident she could secure perfect evaluation scores, earning high points to exchange for a life within the game.
Everything sounded so perfect…
It was like a person wandering in a desert coming across a bottle of water.
Even if that bottle was laced with poison, it wouldn’t kill her immediately—and she was already dying of thirst.
But what if, one day, the game vanished?
She didn’t know if she possessed the ability to destroy the game, nor did she know whether a greater existence lay behind it if it were destroyed.
In short, even if the game suddenly disappeared…
The power it bestowed would vanish along with it.
For those players who had long detached themselves entirely from reality to live in the game, what would become of them once they returned to the real world?
A glance at those bullet chats was all it took to know the answer.
They had completely abandoned themselves, abandoned everything, hiding away in the Game Town while darkly cursing everyone else to die a horrible death.
Because they had already lost everything.
Aside from staring at livestreams every day, they had nothing left to do.
The Game Town had no connection to the outside world. There was a forum for discussions and delicious food to savor, but it was just a town—an isolated town where one still had to periodically walk to their death!
Their sole source of entertainment was the game’s livestreams.
Livestreams held no meaning for the players actually participating in the instances.
However, it was a different story for the residents of the Game Town.
They could use it to vent the feelings accumulated in their hearts—perhaps due to isolation, perhaps because their own progress in the game hadn’t gone smoothly, or perhaps simply because they disliked someone.
In short, it was both an outlet for their frustration and their only form of entertainment.
There were no televisions, no movies, no short videos.
Take the short videos the old man in the front seat was watching: noisy as they were, such a sound could never be heard inside the Game Town.
The only thing audible in the Game Town was the desperate shrieks of people.
No matter how bright or cheerful a person was, after watching horror livestreams day after day and reading negative bullet chats, they were bound to grow gloomy and dark.
Bai Cha didn’t consider herself a particularly good person, but she had her own bottom line and principles.
Yet a bottom line was always a matter of a single thought.
She didn’t believe that once she let her inner desires run wild, she would still be able to keep them in check.
It was just like doing homework as a student.
There are two whole months of vacation; I can play around today first.
There’s still a month left; I can keep playing today.
There are still ten days left; I’ll just borrow someone else’s answers.
There are three days left; no problem, I’ve already borrowed the answers.
School starts tomorrow; I’m not done copying yet, but no big deal, I’ll just get there early tomorrow morning to copy.
Bai Cha had never done this herself, but many people around her during her school days did.
She was the one who lent her answers to others.
Whenever someone asked to borrow her answers, if she inquired why they hadn’t finished yet, they would give her those exact responses.
Indeed, two months was very long.
Entering the game wouldn’t result in immediate death anyway, and perhaps she wouldn’t be able to destroy the game either, spending the rest of her life inside it—but how could that be possible?
Up until now, she hadn’t encountered a single person over the age of forty inside the game.
Granted, she hadn’t been through many instances.
Zhang Feng was probably the oldest person she had come into contact with so far, appearing to be in his thirties.
The other was Shen Qingchen.
Where were the people over forty?
If staying in the game long-term meant merely scraping by to survive until the end, allowing one to go on living like this forever…
It seemed like nothing was wrong on the surface.
It was only once a month anyway. Her period pain was already dreadful enough every month, so she could just treat it as having an extra period.
But how could the game be so kindhearted?
For it to go through such great lengths to entice every player into staying in the Game Town, it inevitably had a motive.
Moreover, Bai Cha had always been curious about one thing: Why were deceased players completely erased of all proof of existence?
What was the point? To prevent social unrest?
The monkey laughter from the old man’s phone in the front seat rang out in her ears once again. Bai Cha let out a sigh and opened her eyes.
Perhaps the medicine she took before leaving home was taking effect; she felt considerably better now.
In truth, she had long grown accustomed to being sick.
It wasn’t even supposed to be that agonizing to begin with—this was nothing.
Yet she also understood that today’s emotional breakdown was merely the beginning.
She didn’t know how long she could hold out.
By the time she reached the campus, Li Mengyao was already in the dorm. Both of them had their thesis defenses scheduled for nine o’clock tomorrow morning.
“You went home? I was actually planning to ask where you went.”
Bai Cha nodded, her face lined with exhaustion.
Noticing her condition, Li Mengyao let out a sigh.
“Sick again? Then I won’t disturb you. I’ll go pour you some water.”
Bai Cha voiced her thanks, then booted up her laptop to prepare for her defense.
In truth, everything had been prepared long ago; she was merely reviewing it one more time.
She didn’t want a single slip-up to occur in a matter she was already ninety percent sure of.
“Speaking of which, I came over today to pack up my things, and I found this just now. I asked Ah Zhao and she said it wasn’t hers, so it must be yours, right?”
Li Mengyao set the glass of water on her desk while bringing over a box from her own desk.
It was a wooden box fitted with a lock.
Bai Cha had seen this box before; it belonged to Yu Zhenzhen.
Once, when Bai Cha was sick and missed class, she noticed Yu Zhenzhen had also taken leave, and saw her opening this box to look inside.
“Yeah, pass it to me.” Bai Cha nodded.
The box was locked. Bai Cha studied it for a moment, deciding she would break it open by force later.
Yu Zhenzhen still had many mysteries surrounding her.
At nine in the evening, Bai Cha put in her earplugs and went to sleep.
What followed was another night of deeply exhausting dreams.
Yet surprisingly, there was no advance notice of an instance.
Checking her phone again, no notification regarding her next entry into an instance had appeared for the time being.
Bai Cha couldn’t even be bothered to ponder it, because… her period had actually arrived.
Menstrual syndrome combined with a fever, and on top of that, having to attend her thesis defense—the moment Bai Cha took the stage, the professors all gasped in surprise.
“You… you’re feeling unwell again? Oh dear, let’s get this over with quickly then. Just answer a few questions and you’re good to go.”
Her advisor shook his head repeatedly.
However, Bai Cha had always been an outstanding student; had it been anyone else, they wouldn’t have been granted this special treatment.
Bai Cha concluded her defense in a weak, breathless state.
Returning to her dorm, she collapsed into a deep stupor.
Yet what was destined to come would always arrive.
In her dream, she found herself sitting inside a classroom.
