Bai Fa Chu Lin stood in the shadow of that peeling reality, his smile like a forcibly stitched wound, exuding a chilling sense of precision. The ceiling of the convenience store had completely disappeared, replaced by a swirling, collapsing black nebula, the remains of the material world being devoured by high-dimensional logic. The air was filled with a strange burnt smell, like some grand epic being forcibly burned in a typewriter.
Chu Lin didn't show any panic; he simply looked indifferently at the ballpoint pen broken in two in his hand. A faint red light remained at the tip of the pen, the "logical scale" he had left when he stabbed it into Su Yaoguang's brow.
Old man, did you just say I hid Su Yaoguang in the refrigerator seventeen years ago? Chu Lin's voice echoed in the void, sounding somewhat hollow. He flicked his cigarette ash, a mocking smile on his lips. As a remnant of logic, your memory seems to be failing you. I wasn't hiding her; I was conducting an 'asset liquidation.' Since she's a packaging box manufactured by Lu Chen, as the creditor, I have the right to decide the storage environment of the goods before they are unpacked.
Bai Fa Chu Lin's eyes narrowed into a slit as he looked at the pool of blood-soaked red cloth beneath Hei Fa Chu Lin's feet. It was the once invincible A-grade ghoul, Red Umbrella, now humbly bearing the name 'Lu Chen.' You thought killing her would let you avoid the fate seventeen years later? That text message was right; she is the only anchor point of this script. That stroke of yours just now has completely triggered a 'nonlinear collapse.'
As soon as he finished speaking, the entire convenience store let out one last, miserable groan. The surrounding shelves melted like wax figures under heat, and those discounted soy sauces and expired breads decomposed into countless jumping binary codes. Gravity completely failed at this moment, or rather, the concept of 'up and down' had lost its semantic support.
Chu Lin felt a huge pulling force. At the core of that force, where Su Yaoguang disappeared, a twisted, circular black hole was slowly opening. It wasn't an ordinary spatial rift, but a logical dead loop, like a photocopier frantically displaying errors.
Welcome aboard Midnight Bus Route 404. The figure of Chu Lin with white hair began to pixelate, and before he completely disappeared, he left one last sentence: Since you refuse to claim the body from seventeen years ago, then go and see that 'future written to death'. Remember to collect your debts, after all... that's your only toll money.
The spatial tremor reached its peak in an instant. Chu Lin closed his eyes and heard a sound that could not be described in words—it was the weight of sunlight falling into a cold abyss.
When he opened his eyes again, his nostrils were filled with a smell of aged rust mixed with cheap leather.
He was sitting in the last row of a dilapidated bus. The lights in the carriage were dim and flickering, emitting a buzzing electrical sound. Outside the window was not the bustling old town street, but an endless, viscous gray fog. The fog clung to the glass, like countless pale faces eager to enter the car.
Directly in front of Chu Lin, Su Yaoguang was curled up in her seat. Her condition was extremely poor, her originally neat white suit was tattered, revealing semi-transparent skin underneath due to logical instability. Even more bizarre was that her lower body was completely pixelated, like a pile of garbled code shaking erratically in the air.
To prevent her body from completely collapsing, she was using an almost self-abusive posture, using the yellowish, strong adhesive tape left by Chu Lin, to tightly wrap her waist and the metal handrail of the bus together. The edge of the tape flickered with a faint yellow light, which was the "non-removable" attribute given by Chu Lin, and it was forcibly maintaining her precarious sense of existence at this moment.
Chu Lin, you...you killed me once. Su Yaoguang raised her head, her eyes showing a dazed pain. Her voice was intermittent, like a radio with poor reception.
Chu Lin stood up expressionlessly and walked up to her. His dark gray trench coat swayed slightly in the bumpy carriage, absorbing the last bit of light around him.
To correct you, that wasn't killing. Chu Lin reached out and roughly tugged at the tape around her waist to make sure the physical anchor was still stable. That was 'logical suspension'. Since the late fees generated by you, the debtor, have exceeded my psychological tolerance limit, I unilaterally determined that you are uncollectible, so I temporarily sealed you in this historical bad debt area. Don't be sentimental, saving you is for debt collection.
He took out the 900 yuan IOU from his pocket, and the handwriting on it turned dark purple in the bus's light.
Due to the premium generated by the interdimensional transition, the debt is no longer nine hundred yuan. Chu Lin stared into Su Yaoguang's eyes, his tone as cold as a precision instrument, adding interest, late fees, and my service fee just now, you now owe me nine hundred and ninety billion... or, the permanent definitional rights to your life.
Su Yaoguang smiled wryly, her right arm—the black ink arm that had been fused with the remains of the Red Umbrella—was twitching uneasily at this moment. Chu Lin, is what Lu Chen said true? Am I really just a... packaging box to lure you in?
Chu Lin didn't answer. He turned his head and looked towards the front of the bus.
There weren't just the two of them in the carriage. In the shadows in the front row sat several passengers whose faces were indistinguishable. They were all wearing neat black raincoats, clutching a yellowed newspaper tightly in their hands, the headline of which was the news of Chu Lin's suicide seventeen years ago.
The rules of this bus are simple. A line of blood-red text suddenly appeared on the display screen at the top of the carriage: [Midnight Bus Rules: Those who close their eyes die. Since this vehicle is in a state of high-dimensional narrative lock, any attempt to generate sleep logic during the journey will be considered a blasphemy against the 'screenwriting team'.]
With the emergence of rules, the temperature inside the carriage plummeted. A monster dressed in an old-fashioned attendant uniform slowly walked from the driver's seat. It had no facial features, only a huge slit like a coin slot.
Please show your ticket. The monster stopped in front of Su Yaoguang, its voice like a saw grating against bone. If you don't have a ticket, please hand over your 'sense of reality' as a supplementary fare.
Su Yaoguang subconsciously wanted to draw her black umbrella, but her right arm was completely stiff due to logical conflict. The pixel blocks on her waist began to spread towards her chest, and the tape made a cracking sound.
Chu Lin sat back in the seat next to her, crossed his legs, and played with the broken pen in his hand.
She doesn't have a ticket, her ticket is with me. Chu Lin said indifferently, but he didn't take out anything that looked like a ticket.
The monster turned around, its empty coin slot aimed at Chu Lin. Then, where is your ticket?
I am the ticket. Chu Lin pointed to his heart. Or rather, the underlying logic of this entire bus is within the scope of my correction with that stroke just now.
He stood up, breathed hot air on the tip of the broken ballpoint pen, and then made a few strokes in the air.
[Amendment 7: In view of the extremely harsh operating environment of this bus, which seriously affects the physical and mental health of passengers, Rule 1 'Those who close their eyes die' is now amended to 'Those who snore are invincible'.]
The red writing flashed in the air, violently crashing into the display screen at the top of the carriage.
The entire bus shook violently. The originally blood-red display flickered a few times, and actually changed to: [New Midnight Bus Rule: Anyone who snores inside the bus is considered a logic-exempted object.]
Su Yaoguang was stunned. She looked at the monster conductor. Due to the forced embedding of the new rule, the monster's movements became extremely comical. It seemed to want to attack Chu Lin, but due to the breakage of the logical chain, its body began to spin around in place.
Chu Lin, this modification of yours... Su Yaoguang just wanted to speak when Chu Lin covered her mouth.
Shut up, snore. Chu Lin stared at her coldly.
I... how could I possibly snore now? The aloof and cool demeanor in Su Yaoguang's eyes completely collapsed, replaced by a sense of absurd powerlessness.
Chu Lin sighed, wearing a "you're such a waste" expression. He picked up the ballpoint pen again and gently touched Su Yaoguang's neck.
[Definition Patch: Debtor Su Yaoguang's breathing frequency is forcibly set to 'Thunderclap Snoring'.]
In an instant, every faint breath of Su Yaoguang emitted a roar like a bulldozer working in the carriage. The sound was not only loud, but also carried a physical shockwave, directly blasting the approaching monster crew members onto the roof, stuck in the vents.
The passengers in black raincoats around them turned their heads, their faceless faces seemingly filled with shock. This absurd logical confrontation was completely beyond their comprehension.
Chu Lin sat back in his seat and closed his eyes to rest. On the surface, he looked as steady as an old dog, but in reality, the palms of his hands under his trench coat were already oozing cold sweat.
That one stroke had exhausted the last bit of fuel in his body called "presence."
Under the cover of Su Yaoguang's "snoring," Chu Lin's consciousness sank into an extremely deep place. It was the ruins of his memory, and also the source of that text message from 2041.
He saw Lu Chen. Not the Lu Chen whose name was now appearing in the pool of blood, but a Lu Chen sitting in front of a huge French window, overlooking the entire ruined city.
Chu Lin, do you think you are fixing this world? Lu Chen's voice echoed in his memory, with a kind of desperate compassion. Every time you rewrite a rule, you are adding a part to that 'final horror story'. You are not mending clothes, you are weaving a shroud for your own funeral.
Why Su Yaoguang? Chu Lin questioned in his consciousness.
Because only she can make you feel 'weight'. Lu Chen turned his head with a smile, and the city outside the window turned to ashes in an instant. If you are an emotionless logic machine, we cannot anchor you through 'fear'. Only when you start wanting to save someone, wanting to strive for a non-existent future, are you the easiest character to write to death.
The memory suddenly shattered.
In reality, the bus suddenly braked hard.
Su Yaoguang's 'thunderous snoring' paused for a second due to the vibration. In that second of gap, the gray mist outside the window suddenly solidified, turning into countless pairs of black hands, instantly shattering the car window glass and gripping Su Yaoguang's shoulders tightly.
Shrieks—
The heavy-duty tape that was wrapped around her waist snapped under the strain.
"Chu Lin!" Su Yaoguang exclaimed.
Chu Lin suddenly opened his eyes, his pupils showing intense static patterns. He saw that those black hands were actually covered in dense barcodes. It was the direct intervention of the "Screenwriting Team."
They no longer assassinated through rules, but chose the most primitive violence—logical dismantling.
Chu Lin grabbed Su Yaoguang's inky black right arm. In that instant, their "pain synchronization" was triggered to the extreme. Chu Lin felt as if his body had been thrown into a huge shredder, every inch of his nerves being forcibly rewritten into gibberish.
"Don't let go!" Su Yaoguang's voice was tearful. She felt her sense of existence rapidly draining away, as those black hands were dragging her into the nothingness outside the window.
Chu Lin gritted his teeth, veins popping out on his forehead. He looked at those barcode-covered black hands and suddenly revealed an extremely twisted and crazy smile.
"Want my goods?" Chu Lin's voice was low and hoarse. "Can you afford the interest?"
He let go of Su Yaoguang's hand and instead threw himself into the nothingness outside the window.
Under Su Yaoguang's terrified gaze, Chu Lin was not swallowed by the nothingness. In mid-air, he once again took out that completely scrapped ballpoint pen and used the last of his strength to write a huge, blood-red symbol on the mist of nothingness: [￥].
[Amendment 0: When the proofreader discovers that the author himself is also fictional, all attacks from the narrative layer will be defined as 'breach of contract.' Penalty for breach: All logical ownership of the attacker.]
This was a gamble. If Lu Chen was right and this world was a script, then the writing team had to abide by some kind of "contractual logic."
In an instant, those black hands covered in barcodes trembled violently as if electrocuted. The original greedy grabbing turned into a frantic escape. Countless shrill screams came from the mist of nothingness, as if an invisible giant was being torn apart alive.
In the process of retreating, those black hands were forcibly assimilated by Chu Lin's red symbol, turning into streams of pure logical energy that poured into Chu Lin's body through his ballpoint pen.
Chu Lin's body instantly regained its substance, and his pale face gained a strange, rosy glow.
He grabbed Su Yaoguang's hand and pulled her back from the edge of pixelization.
The bus started again, roaring through the gray fog's encirclement.
The lights in the carriage came back on, and the black raincoat passengers had disappeared, replaced by empty seats.
Su Yaoguang collapsed on the floor of the carriage, gasping for breath. The pixel blocks on her waist had stabilized. Although she hadn't fully returned to human form, at least she was no longer collapsing.
What... what did you just do? she asked, her voice trembling.
Nothing, signed a 'tyrannical clause.' Chu Lin coldly retracted the ballpoint pen, the tip of which was completely worn down. He looked out the window, the fog was dissipating, and a desolate and solemn outline was revealed in the distance.
It was a huge cemetery.
There were no names on any of the tombstones, only groups of complex numbers. In the center of the cemetery stood a huge white tower, its spire piercing the sky, as if drawing some kind of nourishment from the sky.
Is that the destination? Su Yaoguang followed his gaze.
No, that's the 'Logic Cemetery'. Chu Lin said in a low voice, a complex emotion flashing in his eyes. That is the final resting place for all the illogical things that have been killed by Correctors like you and me.
The bus slowly stopped at the main entrance of the cemetery.
The door opened, and a smell of formaldehyde mixed with old paper rushed in.
Chu Lin was the first to get off the bus. He stood on the desolate land, looking at the white tower.
He suddenly remembered the second half of that text message from seventeen years later.
[Chu Lin, don't save Su Yaoguang. Kill her, or you'll be the villain who gets written to death.]
He touched the nine hundred yuan IOU in his pocket. The color of the IOU had now turned pure black.
Su Yaoguang limped off the bus and stood beside him. "Chu Lin, where are we going now?"
"To get my things back." Chu Lin didn't turn his head, his tone was almost deathly calm. "And to see what exactly I stored in that refrigerator seventeen years ago."
The two entered the cemetery. The moment they stepped through the gate, the tombstones on the ground, which had been silent, suddenly began to vibrate rhythmically.
Ding-dong——
The familiar sound of the convenience store's sensor door chime rang out abruptly in this cemetery of the dead.
Chu Lin stopped. He saw a transparent glass cabinet had appeared on a nameless tombstone in the very center of the cemetery.
Inside the cabinet was a bottle of "Lao Chen Tou" light soy sauce, discounted by 70%.
And on the label of the soy sauce bottle, a line of small print was strikingly written:
[Free Gift: Su Yaoguang's Real Brain.]
Chu Lin's pupils suddenly contracted.
Su Yaoguang, behind him, suddenly let out a painful scream, her entire head began to pixelate violently, as if an invisible hand was tearing open her mental shell.
Just then, Chu Lin's phone vibrated again.
The text message from 2041 arrived again.
The content had changed:
[Sorry, I sent it to the wrong person just now. Chu Lin, Su Yaoguang is actually the Correction Officer, and you... you've always been the most terrifying urban legend we kept in the fridge.]
[Now, please welcome your 'truth'.]
The countless tombstones around the cemetery exploded in an instant, and crawling out of them were not corpses, but countless Chu Lins wearing dark gray trench coats and holding ballpoint pens.
They spoke in unison, their voices overlapping in this deathly silent space into a grand and absurd hymn:
Welcome home, Anomaly Zero.