The dice on the screen spun rapidly, making it difficult to see which side was facing up. However, the spinning only lasted a few seconds before it slowly stopped.
The side facing up showed a 2.
The older members held their breath, cautiously scanning every corner of the room. Suddenly, a wave-like sound rang out, the previous text on the large screen disappeared, and a new string of text reappeared.
[Dad, I hate it when teachers force us to memorize those texts word for word. Can't I just answer the core meaning? Can't I just understand the meaning? Why do we have to memorize it so rigidly?]
[And those texts, I think the important thing is learning how an article should be structured, how it should be logically sound, how it should have a good balance of tension and relaxation, how it should clearly, completely, logically, and fluently express what you want to say, instead of memorizing large sections by rote, losing points for even a single unimportant word. I don't understand the point of doing that.] [
What I want to appreciate is the power of thought and the beauty of words, to use the imagination and creativity of others to inspire my own, rather than simply and rigidly copying others. Isn't it strange to use other people's words to test our memory and thus assess our learning ability and intelligence?]
These paragraphs appeared briefly, then gradually disappeared, replaced by new text. A few lines of thick, bold black characters appeared coldly and lifelessly on the blank screen:
[Language World]
1. Topic: Within a limited time, everyone must communicate using language as required.
2. Requirements:
① No language gaps within 30 seconds;
② No consecutive utterance of 5 homophones or homonyms;
③ No opening the mouth without making a sound; ④
No repeating others' language, no repetitive sentence structures, and no reciting strings of numbers;
⑤ No foreign languages allowed; dialects will be identified as Mandarin; no written communication;
⑥ One violation reduces the 30-second time to 20 seconds; two violations reduce the time to 10 seconds; three violations result in the loss of language rights.
3. Three minutes to prepare, countdown: 180 seconds.
The number "180 seconds" is constantly decreasing, counting down.
"Wow, what does this mean? I don't understand! What are we supposed to do?" Dong Yao's panic seemed deliberately feigned, quite exaggerated.
However, no one had time to pay attention to her at this moment. Mu Yiran's solemn voice rang out, not loud, but clearly reaching everyone's ears: "To make a long story short, based on what the program's son said and the requirements of the question, we can deduce that the test is on the rigor of language. Everyone, remember not to panic, don't think about anything else, concentrate on what you want to say, and keep a calm mind. Now, everyone, sit down. Sitting will reduce the feeling of panic compared to standing. I suggest you minimize your body movements to avoid distracting others and yourself. Remember: too much talk leads to mistakes. Unless there is a word limit, try to say as little useless stuff as possible. If there is a word limit, think carefully before you speak."
The veteran members quickly sat down on the ground, facing the big screen. The three young people who came in last were a little flustered. Seeing everyone else sit down, they hurriedly followed suit. Dong Yao and Qi Muhuan, however, took a few steps forward and sat down in front of everyone, closest to the big screen.
As the 180-second countdown drew to a close, new text appeared at the bottom of the screen:
[1. Participants will take turns speaking, each with three minutes to say 200 words, excluding the words "you," "I," and "he/she."]
When the countdown reached 0, a small window suddenly appeared on the screen showing Zhu Haowen's face. Below the window, two number boxes were displayed side-by-side: the left box showed the 180-second countdown, which was now counting down, while the right box displayed "000." Zhu Haowen
paused for a moment, then quickly realized what was happening and said, "The countdown has started."
The number in the right box instantly changed from 000 to 005,
indicating that he had said five words.
Everyone finally understood. Zhu Haowen was about to continue when Qi Muhuan, sitting at the front, suddenly said with a smile, "Oh, I see. I get it. This means we..."
Ke Xun jumped up, rushed over, and covered Qi Muhuan's mouth. However, it was too late. A small window popped up on the left side of the screen, showing Qi Muhuan's face. Above the window was a display of -20 seconds.
Ke Xun was so angry he wanted to knock the kid unconscious—not only was he courting death, but he also interrupted Zhu Haowen. If Zhu Haowen had any pauses within thirty seconds, ten seconds would be deducted. Not only that, his interruption might disrupt Zhu Haowen's train of thought.
Qi Muhuan struggled under Ke Xun's hand, his eyes, peeking out from under Ke Xun's grasp, staring at him with shock, anger, and disbelief, as if saying, "What are you doing?! Who do you think you are to dare cover my mouth? Let go!"
Ke Xun was even less likely to let go of him. If he did, the kid would definitely start talking again. So he simply pressed him to the ground, one hand still covering his mouth, the other firmly controlling his body to prevent him from moving.
Dong Yao, standing nearby, was stunned. It took her a while to react. She opened her mouth to scream, but Fang Fei, sitting behind her, suddenly stood up, covered her mouth, and then, like Ke Xun, pressed her face down to the ground.
Fortunately, Zhu Haowen wasn't affected. He spoke 226 words in three minutes, without mentioning the required phrases "you," "me," and "him."
When the three minutes counted down to zero, Zhu Haowen's face in the small window switched to Qin Ci's face, and the two number boxes returned to 180 and 000.
The timer and count restarted, and this time it was Qin Ci's turn to speak.
"Those who haven't had their turn yet, think about what you're going to say now," Qin Ci said slowly, the countdown ticking up to 21. "I suggest you memorize some technical terms so you generally won't have to use those three words. Also, please listen carefully, Dong Yao and Qi Muhuan," Qin Ci said, glancing at the two people still struggling on the ground. "Please don't interrupt when others are speaking, and don't treat this like a variety show. Everything happening here is real. Those who break the rules will die—real death. Even if you two don't believe it, please try to follow the instructions on the screen. It won't hurt you."
Qin Ci quickly finished his 200-word speech, and when the countdown reached 0, Shao Ling's face appeared in the small window.
"If you're afraid of making mistakes and breaking the rules," Shao Ling said calmly, "then memorize classical poems. Most classical poems rarely involve these three subjects, but please note that you should not memorize the same poem repeatedly. The requirement that there should be no repetitive sentence structures means that you should not memorize the same passage repeatedly. Alternatively, you can list the names of a certain type of items, such as all fruits, all vegetables, grains, daily necessities, and so on. Also, Dong Yao and Qi Muhuan, you two must have misunderstood. This is not a variety show filmed by a film crew. You should notice that there are no staff members that a film crew should have here. There are no cameramen, lighting technicians, sound recorders, calligraphic boards, etc. Think about it carefully, and remember everything I just told you about the world in the painting. I'm telling you again: it's all real. If you don't follow the requirements, you will die."
When the small window switched again, it was Luo Jin's turn. Luo Jin's voice trembled as she recited, "Apple, orange, banana, cantaloupe, radish, green beans, potato, durian..."
Thanks to Shao Ling's reminder, Luo Jin passed this challenge without incident. Next was Deng Lin. Although Deng Lin didn't seem entirely convinced, she obediently followed the rules: "Hydrogen, helium, lithium, beryllium, boron, carbon, nitrogen, oxygen, fluorine, neon, sodium, magnesium, aluminum, silicon, phosphorus, sulfur, chlorine, argon, potassium, calcium..."
Next was a girl with long, flowing hair. She chose to recite ancient poems, making mistakes and forgetting words. Her lips trembled with nervousness as she looked helplessly at the older members. Her gaze happened to fall on Wei Dong, who was sitting closest to her. Wei Dong paused, remembering himself when he first entered the first painting.
All the confusion, helplessness, fear, and collapse seemed like only yesterday, yet it also felt like it had all been left behind. Today, I don't know if I've become truly brave or just gradually numb. Sometimes I think, if a person can no longer even feel fear, can that person still be considered a normal person, a person with flesh and blood, with emotions and desires?
Schrödinger's cat is both dead and alive. Are we, who are "locked" in the painting, like that cat, no longer truly alive from the moment we enter the first painting? Are we already in a superposition of life and death, existing in a state of overlap? When the evil force "painted" observes us, some die, and some live.
And before the moment of death, the moment of being observed, arrives, are all those who enter the painting living dead?
A sudden, indescribable sorrow welled up in Wei Dong's heart. When he received the panicked gaze of the girl with long hair, he felt particularly sorry for her, and also felt that he and others were just as pitiful as her.
Wei Dong raised his hand, gave the girl a thumbs-up, and offered her a comforting smile.
This gesture, this expression—if Ke Xun had done it, it would have been far more stylish, more infectious, and more comforting. Wei Dong knew he was just an ordinary person, seemingly unqualified to pity others, but at this moment, he still wanted to. In this endless despair without hope, he would rather be comforted to death or encouraged to live than be a living dead, devoid of even fear.
The girl with long hair was clever; she understood Wei Dong's meaning. Reciting the wrong poem or forgetting the words didn't matter. The "test" wasn't about memorization or vocabulary; as long as the question's requirements weren't violated, it was considered a correct answer.
She relaxed slightly and continued reciting the poem, skipping over lines she couldn't recall, reciting whichever line came to mind, until she had finally recited two hundred words.
Next, it was Ke Xun's turn.