[Key item discovered: Mirror of True Sight and Self (Activated)]
Before entering the mirror, Mu Anqi had thought she might enter another world—likely one that also resembled Samsara City—but filled with ghosts attacking her. She would have to regroup with the players, then secretly sneak around to find the City Lord's Mansion. Maybe she would see the so-called "Goddess of Beauty," maybe she wouldn't, but in any case, she had to find the pass.
But the moment she stepped into the mirror, it was as if she had pushed open a series of doors, and then entered a familiar and simple room.
On the familiar desk was a laptop, with a half-finished bottle of soda and a lit-up phone casually placed beside it.
It was her room.
Mu Anqi, 20 years old, was a college student.
A college student who had won three hundred million in the lottery.
On the phone screen was her Taobao shopping cart, and in the background were densely packed lists. To the Mu Anqi of that time, three hundred million was definitely a huge sum. At twenty years old, suddenly learning she had won the lottery, she honestly didn't even know how to spend it. A new phone? Computer? Games? Clothes, shoes, cosmetics? …In her mind, even buying one of everything still felt far too distant from the enormous figure of three hundred million.
There's a saying that's true: how many people in the world never earn three hundred million in their entire lifetime? —Mu Anqi didn't know if anyone had actually said that, but she felt like someone must have.
Most of the items on the list were things Mu Anqi planned to buy for herself. Of course, there were also things she intended to get for her parents, but the words there were short—just "house" and "car." Mu Anqi didn't know much about these things, but her parents had worked hard their whole lives, and now that she'd won the lottery, she felt they deserved to enjoy life.
Money making more money, investments, financial management, opening a business? Mu Anqi came from an average background, and her parents were just regular working people—they didn't understand any of that. Mu Anqi still remembered how she had carefully checked the winning numbers over and over, and when she finally told her parents the news, excited but trying to stay calm, her mother was both shocked and overjoyed. But in the end, she told Mu Anqi not to spread the word, and to just quietly put all the money in savings herself.
"Your dad and I don't have any great abilities. That fortune teller in the village back when you were little was right… you really are destined for great things! This money—you should save it and use it for yourself. Your parents are getting old, and everything we've worked hard for all our lives is meant for you. We don't want anything."
Mu Anqi pulled out the chair and sat down at the desk. She moved the computer mouse around a bit, pursing her lips as she looked at the familiar game icons on the screen. She had actually gone through a rebellious phase—in middle school, she got hooked on computer games, and in high school she became completely obsessed with a certain competitive game. Every Friday she would finish all her homework at school just so she could play without restraint all weekend with her in-game friends. She was actually quite talented at gaming, had envied professional players before, and would get fired up watching the matches on screen.
Maybe… dying once really does make you mature a lot? Mu Anqi looked around at the room's furnishings—every object brought back memories of her daily life back then. The basketball on the bookshelf that was already losing air, the dartboard hanging on the wall, the pink bunny plushie on the bed, the box of anime DVDs under the bed, the skateboard and swim ring on top of the wardrobe…
Mu Anqi honestly didn't know what kind of personality she had. She liked a lot of things and had many hobbies, but wasn't really deeply specialized in any of them.
"As soon as you wake up, you're on the computer again. Do you even care about your eyes anymore?" A familiar voice came from outside the door. Mu Anqi, sitting stiffly in her chair, slowly turned her head. Her mother walked in with a stern face, placing a cup of hot water and a bowl of peeled, cut-up apple slices on the desk. "Everything's piled up on your desk and you don't even bother to clean it! Get up—what do you want to eat? I'll have your dad cook it for you."
This was a scene from her memory, and the voice too was the one from her memory. But as Mu Anqi looked at it again, she realized her mom wasn't exactly like she remembered. There were wrinkles on her face, her hair wasn't neatly combed, and several white strands stood out sharply.
Realm of True Sight and Self.
Mu Anqi thought, so… in the end, she still couldn't let go of her parents.
Some things are strange—you clearly know it's fake, yet you can't bear to break it. You clearly know it's not real, yet you still want to be fooled a little longer. You know the longer you stay, the more dangerous it gets. You know it's a trap. You know how to break it. But still… it's hard to move.
Mu Anqi couldn't help but rush forward and throw herself into her mother's arms. She buried her head into her mother's chest, and then she heard her mother's voice again, words she'd said once before in another time: "Ay, crying like a smudged cat—aren't you embarrassed, acting like this at your age?"
There was one more sentence the mirror didn't say out loud, but Mu Anqi remembered it clearly.
——"Weren't you the one who insisted on learning to skateboard? Had to fall like that to finally learn it hurts, huh."
Mu Anqi didn't continue thinking about how, back then, she cried while stubbornly clutching her skateboard, refusing to let go—wanting to act spoiled, crying that it hurt, yet still insisting on learning. She just hugged her mother tightly, finally letting out all the fear and grievances she had bottled up during this time: "The circus performance wasn't fun at all…"
"I'm only twenty, I don't want to see those bloody, violent scenes…"
"The Seven Deadly Sins deaths were way too tragic and disgusting, wuwuwu…"
"That Beauty God clearly has no taste—someone as good-looking as me, and they still picked on me, wuu… I'm not even that short…"
True Sight of the Self—to face the failures, regrets, and mistakes of the past that one least wants to confront.
Mu Anqi had always thought she didn't care that much. So what if she died? Her lottery winnings were still there. Her parents should be able to receive that 300 million, right? Even after taxes, they would live a very comfortable life. That fortune teller had said she would have great fortune at the age of twenty, but her parents had waited all these years, and in those twenty years, she hadn't amounted to much. Her grades weren't top of the class, and she wasn't good enough at gaming to go pro. Everything she did was short-lived—no real accomplishments to speak of.
If she died… her parents would still live very, very well.
She kept telling herself this, numbing herself, thinking that if she didn't dwell on it, maybe it would become true—maybe she could even fool herself into believing it.
Back then, Greed had tempted her with that 300 million lottery prize, but she hadn't fallen for it. What she couldn't let go of wasn't the prize—it was those twenty years. What she couldn't let go of were her parents, who had loved her quietly, supported her selflessly, and never got the chance to be repaid.
Wiping away her tears, Mu Anqi pulled herself out of her mother's embrace. She walked out of the room, and sure enough, saw her father sitting cross-legged on the sofa, reading the newspaper. The TV was playing the news, and a cup of steaming tea sat on the coffee table.
"You actually got up? I ran into your old classmate XX this morning—she was already out buying breakfast for her family at seven!"
"All right, go to the kitchen and cook yourself a bowl of noodles. Crack in an egg." Mu Mom followed her out of the room, picked up the remote from the sofa, turned off the TV, and waved her off.
Mu Anqi blinked as warm tears kept sliding down her cheeks—but she couldn't help but smile.
This was already good enough.
Being able to see her parents again, to hear those nagging words she'd heard a thousand times—that was already wonderful.
These memories, the ones she could never forget, she would keep in her heart forever.
Nirvana Space. Escape game. She would definitely keep going.
Clearing the game? No big deal. She had to—really had to—do something worthy of that so-called "great fortune."
The colors before her froze. Like a mirror falling and shattering inch by inch. Color faded. Black and white spun. That black-and-white vortex spun and spun… until it once again gave off a faint blue glow… then gradually faded away… and vanished.
Mu Anqi saw herself in the mirror. She touched the surface lightly with her fingertips, still standing in front of the wardrobe. But the person in the mirror looked pitiful and disheveled—eyes and nose red from crying—yet still forced a smile.
She didn't look that ugly…
Letting her hand drop, Mu Anqi lifted her arm and roughly wiped her face, then hung the clothes back into the wardrobe.
As she stepped back, she realized the moonlight spilling into the room had turned a faint shade of red. When she turned around, she saw the red monster standing at the doorway.
A humanoid red monster—it had a human skeleton, but no human skin. As if someone had peeled off human skin, crushed the flesh into pulp, and smeared it back onto the bones.
The monster was staring at her. Its jaw moved slightly, as if trying to speak. As the bones shifted, blood-red "threads" stretched and tore, but then it closed its mouth again, saying nothing.
Suddenly turning to see a creature like this, Mu Anqi's sanity value nearly hit rock bottom on the spot. The candy cane in her hand instantly grew larger, and a string of blessing incantations rushed to her lips. But—but—the monster was holding… an apple?
"…White paper… resident?"
The monster didn't speak. It only moved stiffly, leaving a red trail across the floor. It walked into the living room, then opened the front door. Mu Anqi, gripping her candy cane, followed it out—only to see the monster slowly sit down on the small stool next to the coffee table, turning its back to her.
Mu Anqi immediately pulled herself out of the emotions brought on by the mirror. She tilted her head back, took a few deep breaths, forcefully pushing down the swirling feelings and pulling her scattered rationality back into place.
Was this the effect of the Mirror of True Sight and Self? In this state, she should be able to see the City Lord's Mansion.
It was clearly just a lump of bloodied flesh, clearly a monster that couldn't be looked at directly without losing sanity… Yet, Mu Anqi took a deep breath—she didn't know why, but from its back, she saw a strange, pitiful loneliness.
Mu Anqi walked over with her candy cane, pointing its "barrel" at the sofa and firing off a few rounds with the weakest force—bang, bang, bang. She skillfully controlled the ammo type with her mind, and soon the sofa was piled with marshmallows, gummy apple candies, and bell-shaped hard candies. As for the hot syrup ammo… Mu Anqi figured giving that out would be like trying to kill a ghost, so she skipped it.
"…These are all for you. They're really sweet."
"You're also a very, very good landlord!"
"These past few days, thank you for your help! Anyway, just remember what I said—don't host players anymore…" Mu Anqi paused here, ultimately unable to bring herself to say something narcissistic like "not every player is as nice as me." Hesitating a bit, she pulled two red envelopes from her backpack and tucked them into the little monster's arms, then activated her ability.
In this form, it was hard to tell what kind of expression the little monster had. Mu Anqi even thought that maybe the so-called "Goddess of Beauty" was actually some kind of eldritch god—how else could the blank-paper residents end up like this? The little monster clutched the red envelopes, looked up at her, and finally gave a low, muffled "Okay."
[Ding! Skill activated successfully!]