Wollongong, Australia, is a beautiful city—with its brilliant sunshine, stunning beaches, and the University of Wollongong, which feels just like a botanical garden. Especially Building 19, where one can never seem to find the stairs, feeling like a maze; all of this felt fresh and safe to Wang Yan, an international student from China.
Yes, safe—that's the word! Because of a terrifying game, a series of hair-raising conjectures, and her own primal sense of crisis, 19-year-old Wang Yan chose to stay far away from her hometown, following her mother's decision to come to Australia to study.
With only a week left until the due date, Wang Yan was in the chair in her bedroom. Her eyes were fixed on the computer, but her mind was calculating whether she should go brew a cup of coffee or grab a can of green V for a boost. Her 3,000-word essay was only half-finished, with just 1,500 words written. Based on her experience, if she wasn't drinking one of the two while writing a paper, it meant she wasn't torturing herself enough, nor was she working hard enough. Just as she was thinking this, the phone on her desk suddenly vibrated—a stranger's number was requesting to add her as a friend on WeChat.
The person's profile picture was a Bagua diagram, and the name: Zhuo Ning. Although Wang Yan was curious, she did not accept the friend request. Then, another message came through the request field: Liu Zhaodi is dead. Wang Yan's hands went limp. In an instant, those terrifying memories from a year ago came rushing back. She sat bolt upright and hurriedly accepted the friend request. After hesitating for a few seconds, she sent a message: "What happened to Liu Zhaodi?"
Before the other person could respond, unable to restrain her anxiety, she asked again: "Who are you?"
"I am a person who's can save you. Except you and Yu Tian, everyone else has already gone missing."
Wang Yan stared at these words, forcing herself to calm down first. A year had passed, and she had deliberately avoided contacting her old university classmates back in China, all because she didn't want to encounter those terrifying things ever again. Now, faced with a message from a stranger's number, she didn't dare to trust it easily. She tapped her screen and pulled up her chat history with Liu Zhaodi. Pursing her lips, she sent a voice call. To her surprise, it was picked up almost immediately. She froze—didn't that person say Liu Zhaodi was dead? Was that stranger really just a liar?
Wang Yan asked in a trembling voice, "Zhaodi? Is that you?"
There was silence on the other end of the line for a moment, then a young male voice replied: "Didn't I just tell you? Liu Zhaodi is dead. Don't believe me? Accept the WeChat request."
The other party hung up the phone. Wang Yan tapped her screen and accepted the friend request. Immediately, a video call popped up. When the video connected, she saw a man wearing a black hoodie with short hair and a high-bridged nose. To Wang Yan's surprise, he looked very young, perhaps twenty-five or twenty-six years old. He was handsome, though there was a hint of impatience in his expression.
He was outdoors, and there seemed to be a commotion not far away. Holding the phone, he said, "I'll take you to see Liu Zhaodi." While Wang Yan was still completely bewildered, the camera shook for a moment, and then a funeral portrait of Liu Zhaodi appeared directly in front of the lens. Because the camera was trembling slightly, the smile on Liu Zhaodi's face in the portrait looked increasingly eerie, as if she were staring right at her and laughing.