The four new employees, colleagues, were sent by their company to a business meeting at the Crystal Swan Hotel in the city. After the meeting, they decided to visit the art museum to kill time, and that's when they encountered this unfortunate and bizarre incident.
The woman with her hair up, Zhao Haicui, was a long-time employee. Another young girl, Wei Miao, was a new employee she mentored. Wei Miao had chosen dragon horns as her prop, and now the two of them—one with rabbit ears, the other with dragon horns—were silently weeping, looking both eerie and somewhat comical.
The other two male colleagues, Zhang Lifeng, had chosen two longan seeds as their prop, and Ge Lei, was wearing the red and white striped T-shirt and black bell-bottoms.
"Thirteen people, divided into six groups, each with at least two people. Now, everyone, divide yourselves," Qin Ci said after introductions.
"I'd like to ask, what criteria are you going to use to group us?" Luo Wei, also a new employee, cautiously observed Qin Ci from behind his glasses.
"Normally," Qin Ci said calmly, "our group formation is based on voluntary participation."
There were many unspoken implications in this statement. After speaking, Qin Ci looked at Luo Wei, waiting for his reply.
Luo Wei, as expected, had something to say. He adjusted his glasses, his expression calm: "For us newcomers to the studio, we would certainly prefer you to mentor us. But clearly, I don't think all of you will agree to this request, and I don't want to be separated from Ya Qing."
He glanced at Qi Qiang and Huang Pi standing on the outermost edge. It was obvious those two wouldn't be willing to mentor newcomers, and even if they were, who could guarantee they wouldn't be used as scapegoats in dangerous situations?
"So, do you have any better suggestions?" Qin Ci asked him.
"In fact, in this kind of boundary devoid of order and social morality, no one is obligated to consider others," Luo Wei said calmly and rationally, almost to the point of being ruthless. "We have no right to interfere with your formation of teams, but if, just if, you are willing, could you consider not dividing the groups so finely? Six groups, at least five of which have only two people, is an extremely unscientific grouping method. Since the rules are related to 'choices,' each group should have at least three people to be reasonable. If there is a disagreement when faced with a choice between A and B, the minority can be decided by majority vote."
"If there are three people in each group, wouldn't there have to be one group with four people?" Wei Dong said.
Luo Wei gave Wei Dong the look of someone looking at a slacker: "We're living people, not machines. A 50/50 situation isn't a dead end. We have many flexible ways to make the final decision. So, do you agree to my proposal?"
The last question was directed at Qin Ci, but Luo Wei's gaze unconsciously swept over Mu Yiran, who stood a few steps away from Qin Ci. With the meticulousness and keen observation of an engineering student, he instinctively felt that this silent and aloof man was the one who truly made the decisions among the old members.
If they were in groups of three, they would have to split into four groups, but there were six world entrances ahead. Finding signatures was a race against time; missing two worlds could mean missing the best chance to escape.
Qin Ci looked at his companions who had come all this way, his eyes seeking their opinions.
"Since that's the case, let's split into four groups," Ke Xun answered most decisively. "Since choices determine destiny, let's split into four groups and temporarily give up the entrances to the two worlds. That's our fate, and maybe the 'choice' has already begun."
"That's right, I agree to split into four groups," Wei Dong said.
"Me too," Zhu Haowen said.
"What are your opinions?" Qin Ci asked the newcomers.
"I don't care how many groups we're in, I have to be in a group with you guys, and you have to take responsibility for this!" Zhao Haicui, the woman with her hair up, had a touching logic, clinging tightly to Qin Ci's sleeve.
Unable to break free from Zhao Haicui's pull, Qin Ci shook his head helplessly and looked at his companions: "How do we group up?"
"Yiran and I are in a group," Ke Xun said.
"I didn't ask you." Wei Dong rolled his eyes. "I'm in a group with Yi Ran too."
Ke Xun: "…"
"Ke Xun and I are in a group," Mu Yi Ran said. "Wei Dong and Hao Wen are in a group, Dr. Qin will take Luo Wei and Li Yaqing, and the rest of you can do whatever you want.
"Everyone, pay attention to the time. If possible, try to get back to this room before 11 PM. Since the rules of the painting usually don't cause all those who enter the painting to die on the same night, getting back here before midnight might reduce the probability of death to some extent.
"After entering the chosen world, everyone should leave marks along the way to prevent getting lost and to provide clues for others to find you.
"I brought paper and pen, which are in this room now. If anyone can return to this room, they can use the paper and pen to leave a message for those who haven't returned on time, describing their group's experience in as much detail as possible, and explaining the group's plans for the future.
"Time waits for no one, so it's best to leave now."
After saying that, he glanced at Ke Xun, who immediately followed. The two walked towards the world entrance led by one of the round doorways.
The final decision on group composition was left to the newcomers and Qi Qiang/Huang Pi by Mu Yiran; it was entirely voluntary for anyone to join.
Surprisingly, it was Huang Pi who followed.
Qi Qiang had initially moved towards Mu Yiran and Ke Xun, but seeing Huang Pi walk past, he stopped and ultimately chose to team up with a man and a woman from the newcomers.
Ke Xun speculated that Qi Qiang was probably targeting the weak, just like in the previous painting. The newcomers, knowing nothing of the world depicted, were perfect scapegoats and stepping stones.
However, Ke Xun had no power to intervene. Within the painting, everyone was struggling to survive; how could they possibly help others avoid being schemed against and persecuted?
Ke Xun simply instructed Wei Dong, Zhu Haowen, and Qin Ci to be careful, and then, together with Mu Yiran and Huang Pi, stepped through the round doorway.
Ke Xun walked at the back of the three, paying particular attention to the scholar's cap on Huang Pi's head. Huang Pi had a buzz cut, and the cap, though called a "cap," was actually more like a hat. Placed on his buzz cut, coupled with his fierce, convict-like face, it was so comical that Ke Xun almost burst out laughing inappropriately.
Looking back at the room behind him, he saw the round door was closed. The room was a rustic mud-brick house, without windows, its roof covered with dry straw.
Ke Xun speculated that this room would appear differently in different worlds.
Turning back to look at the world before him, he felt an inexplicable sense of incongruity.
In the distance were mountains, nearby trees, to the left were patches of farmland laid out like a grid, to the right were scattered village houses. The entire world had a strange color scheme; everything looked old and worn, like something from an old movie or a pile of old papers.
Whether it was the mountains and trees, the fields and houses, everything was a somber, old color. Upon closer inspection, the lines of all the objects were strangely irregular, lacking absolute straightness. Even the beams, window frames, and door frames had a curved, undulating, or even rounded quality that didn't match their original texture.
"I'm a little scared,"
Mu Yiran said, looking at Ke Xun.
Hadn't this kid already become fearless through countless visits to and from the painting? Why was he suddenly saying he was afraid?
"I've been terrified of those old movies since I was a kid," Ke Xun said. "You know, those black-and-white films with or without sound, the picture is a dull yellow like this, and there's always that thing…"
"Noise and grain," Mu Yiran added understandingly.
"Yes, those patterns, constantly moving around on the screen," Ke Xun touched his arm, where he seemed to have goosebumps. "The sound in the sound movies is also inconsistent, the sound quality is terrible, which makes it even more eerie—I'm most afraid of those old movies, I always feel like the people in them aren't real people."
So, could this world, which looks like an old movie, also… have a group of eerie "living" people?
"Anyway, let's find someone and ask about the situation here." Ke Xun, who had just been talking about being afraid, started walking towards the distant area where there were people.
Along the way, Ke Xun made very obvious marks at intervals on trees or by the roadside. These marks were a set of special symbols that only the members of the Painting Theory group could understand, devised by the group. Each mark not only indicated the direction the person making the mark was going, but also provided a simple explanation and directions.
However, to make it easier for newcomers who were not members to understand, Ke Xun also left some explanatory text and directional signs that everyone could understand.
Reaching a field that looked dry and barren, the three saw a grandfather and grandson laboriously plowing the field. They were wearing short shirts in the style of ancient commoners, their hair tied in buns with cloth sashes. Their clothes were worn and almost unrecognizable.
Their skin tone, like the hue of the world, was dull and yellowish. Although they clearly looked hungry and suffering, their exposed fingers and waists beneath their clothes were thick and round.
"May I ask..." Ke Xun, adopting the tone of an ancient person, stepped forward to inquire, even bowing with clasped hands. "Sir, where... uh, is this place?"
The old man slowly raised his head. His white beard lacked the texture of human hair; Ke Xun couldn't describe its texture—somewhat like cloth, somewhat like mud, definitely not like hair.
Based on his experience with the previous paintings, even though Ke Xun found the old man before him quite strange, he didn't dare to say anything, simply pretending to look at him naturally.
"You gentlemen are from out of town, aren't you?" the old man spoke slowly, his voice carrying the distinctive quality of an old film. Ke Xun couldn't help but take two steps closer to Mu Yiran. "This is Baihua Village."
The village name sounded nice, but Ke Xun looked around and saw no flowers at all, or even if he did, they were a dim, yellowish color, blending into the surrounding scenery and difficult to distinguish.
Knowing only the village name didn't provide any new clues. Ke Xun scratched his head, momentarily at a loss for words. After all, he still had no clue how to find the signature or figure out the rules of death associated with the painting.
"Grandpa, I see your fields are a bit dry. Has the harvest been affected?" Mu Yiran, who had been silent until now, suddenly asked a question that seemed to have nothing to do with the painting.