Congratulations on Your Successful Escape

Mo Yi’s fingers subconsciously tightened, thin creases appearing on the cover of the document, spreading like a spider web. The slender knuckles were pale from the exertion, looking shocking to the eye.

His lips were pressed tightly into a straight line, the palour of the lips so light that it almost disappeared. 

What happened?

Why did the ringing bell disappear?

Could it be the countdown in the dining room …?

Mo Yi abruptly raised his head, rushing towards the dining room, ears filled with the sound of the wind from the fast pace, making him barely able to hear the sounds around him. 

He suddenly stopped at the entrance of the dining room, stopping his body from leading forward. Then, with sharp eyes and agile hands, grabbed the bewildered Wang Zezhi who was running after him.

Wang Zezhi stumbled twice, supporting himself with the door frame of the dining room to stabilize his figure. He held up his crooked glasses, deep doubt and uneasiness on his face. His mouth opened, asking in a hoarse voice, “… What’s going on?”

Mo Yi’s face was serious and turned his wrist, pointing his finger at the dial of his watch.

Wang Zezhi was taken aback, following Mo Yi’s fingers, leaning closer to look, complexion instantly turning ugly.

The reason for the bell no longer ringing was temporarily unclear, but the cause of this was self evident — the former timetable couldn’t be used anymore.

Wang Zezhi took a step backwards, the expression in his eyes changing when he looked at the dining room. After all, he still remembered how miserably the player who mistakenly entered the dining room died the first day because he didn’t know the timetable.

He swallowed a mouthful of saliva, peeping at Mo Yi who was standing beside him.

Mo Yi looked straight into the dining room, pair of extremely dark coloured eyes narrowed in thought. The bright lights in the dining room and the dim wall lamps in the corridor carved up his facial features into light and dark, facial features appearing all the more clear and sharp. 

It seemed like the colour of his face would forever be unchanged even if Mount Tai were to collapse in front of him. No matter what were to happen, this sort of calm and rational appearance caused one to feel at ease by simply watching him.

There seemed to be a type of bizarre magic on this man, causing one to involuntarily regard him as the backbone and subconsciously want to believe in his judgement and decision making.

Wang Zezhi took a deep breath and asked, “What should we do now?”

Mo Yi heard what was said, quickly sweeping a glance at him, sight stopping for a short moment on the wound on hs neck, and then replied, “Let’s get you patched up first. After that, I’ll look for clues in the documents you found, then decide what to do next.” 

He rummaged through his backpack, taking out bandages and wound medicine, passing it to Wang Zezhi’s hand, and then turned around to walk out of the corridor.

We’re sorry for MTLers or people who like using reading mode, but our translations keep getting stolen by aggregators so we’re going to bring back the copy protection. If you need to MTL please retype the gibberish parts.

Wang Zezhi took the wound medicine, taking a few quick steps to catch up to him, and asked doubtfully while walking on the side, “So, where are you going now?”

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After figuring this put, his spirits rose, walking outside with Mo Yi.

The hall was the same as before they had left, without any tendency of changing. This made Wang Zezhi’s heart calm a bit. Reaching out, he unscrewed the wound medicine Mo Yi had just tossed to him and began to move awkwardly to apply it to himself.

Meanwhile, Mo Yi stood to the side, borrowing the relatively bright lights in the hall to open the document that had been in his hand for a long time.

The paper was quite new, smooth, and glossy as if brand new. This seemed to be an extremely simple and clear agreement. The specific contents of the business transaction were vaguely omitted, and only a very large number was written on the paper, which was all the more eye catching. 

Mo Yi read the whole text three times, still amidst the clouds and mists, completely unaware of what the agreement was drawn up for when all was said and done.

His brows knitted, doubts in his heart, and turned to the next page.

The date of signing written in blue ink handwriting instantly came into view: March 11, 1919.

Mo Yi was taken aback. 

He remembered that the file record on the two brothers in the basement was dated March 10, 1919. In that case, it indicated that this document was signed the day after the two brother’s records came to an end.

Moreover, on this date, the fake Dean who was set up and framed should have already been sent to prison. Therefore, the person who signed this document should have a high probability of being the one in charge of the orphanage behind the scenes.

Mo Yi, as if absorbed in thought, stared at the string of flowery English letters signed at the end of the document, fingers subconsciously stroking it:

The person who signed this document with this handwriting ought to have been a man — this made him instantly think of the ordinary man who was standing next to the orphan in the group photo. 

Mo Yi brows wrinkled indiscernably, deep eyes dark and bottomless. He withdrew his fingers on the paper, prepared to go back, but saw that there was a faint blue finger mark on the area he had stroked.

He was momentarily alarmed and looked at his finger.

The fingertips were damp with ink, gradually following, smudged, along the lines of the fingers, leaving an indistinct half dried ink mark on the center of the fingertip.

— Wait, the ink wasn’t dried yet? 

Mo Yi twisted his fingertips, thoughtfully watching as the remaining ink on the fingertips started to crumble, spreading due to his body heat, turning into a light colour between the two fingers, like light blue mist adhered to the fingers.

The countdown of the clock in the dining room.

An orphanage that was becoming more and more brand new.

— As if time was going backwards. 

And March 11, 1919, was the end point of this regression.

Such a terrible thought suddenly appeared in Mo Yi’s heart — they may now have entered the timeline of the day, and what they are now deep in is the orphanage back then.

His breathing hitched.

A moment ago, at the entrance of the dining room, Mo Yi saw that the clock was still moving backwards, and there was no signs of it stopping — And at that time, the minute and hour hands of the clock happened to point at 5:40. 

Mo Yi looked down at his watch: It was now 5:20.

In other words, after 10 minutes, the time on the clock that was running backwards … just happened to coincide with the time on his watch.

It was as if — two timelines were equally overlapping.

Just as Mo Yi was pondering, thoughts in turmoil, Wang Zezhi’s voice unexpectedly rang out, rousing him from his train of thoughts, “That … can you give me a hand, please?” 

Mo Yi’s eyes flashed for a split second, dazed, as if he wasn’t aware of the existence of another person in this room. He followed the sound and saw Wang Zezhi holding a handful of messy bandages with an awkward face, looking at him with some embarrassment.

One end of the bandage was carelessly wrapped around his neck. The other end was wrapped around his hand and shoulders. It was still covered in some wound medicine and semi dried blood, cutting an endlessly sorry figure.

Mo Yi understood: It really was not easy for a person to wrap a bandage around their injured neck. Just as well. Summoning up the courage to reflect on it would not produce any results, so it would be better to change the line of thinking.

While thinking, Mo Yi stuffed the document into his backpack, stood up, walked to Wang Zezhi’s side and took the bandage from his hand. 

Nimble, slender fingers properly and sincerely wrapped the long snow-white bandages around Wang Zezhi’s neck, encircling it. The side of the neck was also tightly sealed with medical tape with dexterous technique.

Mo Yi’s fingertips unconsciously grazed Wang Zezhi’s exposed skin.

A sharp, ice-cold sensation roused Wang Zezhi, and he couldn’t help but almost shiver. Goosebumps instantly rose on the warm, smooth skin. He subconsciously tilted his head, wanting to avoid it, but only felt Mo Yi’s ice-cold hand leave in the next second.

Wang Zezhi contracted his shoulders, reaching out to touch his neck, carefully not touching his wounds and used the warm temperature of his palms to press back the goosebumps that came out one after another. 

He couldn’t refrain from having some misgivings in mind:

Mo Yi’s body was cold to the extent that it made his hands cold like ice.

Mo Yi didn’t notice the twist and turns in Wang Zezhi’s heart. After he helped him finally seal the bandage in place, he straightened to leave once more, indifferently looking around the entire room.

At once, Mo Yi discovered that there was something wrong. 

They were the only two people left in the whole hall.

Not knowing when, three people had disappeared.

Mo Yi’s heart beat fiercely. A sort of strange and unknown premonition, like a sponge brimming with water, filled with all of his sensory organs, the pressure making it almost difficult for him to breathe.

He took a few steps in the direction of the corridor, holding his breath and bending an ear to listen closely. 

The dark depths of the corridor was submersed in deathly silence, light unable to penetrate the darkness, as if it had swallowed all sounds. The cold and desolate silence was similar to a towel soaked in water, heavily pressing down on a person’s mouth and nose.

Mo Yi took another step closer.

He looked down at his watch — 5:30

Just as the second hand streaked across the number “12” on the watch face, the entire hall suddenly began to faintly shake, making Mo Yi stagger, caught off guard. Then, unsteadily
holding onto the wall, he was barely able to stabilize his figure. 

When he once again raised his head, the whole hall had drastically changed.

The clean and brand-new chandelier overhead emitted a bright light. The dark green wallpaper and dark brown carpet were distinctly patterned, and the receptionist desk at the door was untainted by even a speck of dust.

It was a completely new building from the dusty orphanage before, making one hardly able to believe their eyes.

Just as Mo Yi and Wang Zezhi looked at each other in dismay — 

Deep in the dark corridor, there suddenly came the sound of hurried and heavy footsteps!

Closing in on them here with a speed that was difficult to react to!

Almost before their eyes in the next second!