"So what?"
Shen Cheng hooked her lips, her smile widening.
"How about we play a game," the man said, stretching out his slender fingers upward, "Here there are 10,001 bottles, each containing a slip of paper. On each slip, there are ways to live, ways to die, and the cost of a life worse than death."
Shen Cheng followed his hand upward, countless glass bottles gently swaying, occasionally clinking against each other with a crisp yet piercing sound.
Her gaze returned to the man, as she smiled, "Are you suggesting I pick one from inside?"
"No, pick three," the man's eyes twinkled with an unfathomable smile, deliberately slowing his speech, "Three bottles represent three choices, three chances. You can pick one, whether it's life, death, or a fate worse than death, it's all up to you alone to decide. But be clear, having three chances doesn't necessarily mean there's a chance of survival."
"Of course, you can also refuse to play this game."
