In the face of despair, some people completely collapse emotionally. Others descend into utter madness. Of course, there's also a very small minority who, when crisis strikes, abandon all expectations and emotions to save themselves through sheer self-control and rational thinking—staking everything on even the faintest glimmer of hope. Wang Zhi belonged to this rare category. Her inherently decisive nature now manifested as all emotions receded behind an icy mask. Survival instincts sent her mind racing at breakneck speed, flooding her system with hormones that made her entire body tremble uncontrollably as she grew cold.
Wang Zhi finally pieced together all her previous confusion and grasped the core dilemma. The gaps in her memory prevented coherent reasoning. Without continuous recollection, any strange sights or sounds would only arouse suspicion—suspicions that would vanish completely by the next day, or the next memory lapse. "First, these ankle scratches bear striking resemblance to the deliberate marks on my hands. Given my complete amnesia about prior events, the most straightforward conclusion is that these six horizontal and one vertical marks represent six items I've possessed, each lasting one day. Taking my arrival as day zero, these seven marks would indicate today is day two. Assuming the first amnesia episode occurred before this, I'm likely now experiencing the second episode." Her eyes suddenly flashed with realization—"The critical insight is the nature of the memory loss. If sudden, then identifying the trigger mechanism becomes paramount. Without prior memories, any plans made earlier are worthless. Only continuous, coordinated actions can break this deadlock."
"Possible causes for the amnesia? The incense in household shrines—its burning aroma might cause progressive memory loss, but that seems too random; I might have refused it initially. Yet we can't rule it out, since every doorway here has shrines permeating the air with that scent. If incense were the culprit, judging by exposure duration, my memory loss should have occurred during the bonfire feast. Outcome suggests we can tentatively exclude this. Food? We ate from shared plates, and dosage would be unpredictable—they couldn't know how much I'd consume. Therefore, the cause must be something constantly present yet completely inconspicuous, ensuring my first amnesiac self wouldn't eliminate it. Alternatively, that earlier version of me might have identified the factor but—like now—devised a continuity plan requiring its risky preservation. Given my continued presence here, that plan likely failed before reaching the next memory lapse threshold."
Wang Zhi scanned the room—the bed, the chair, the suitcase, the floor, the window... In that instant, she lowered her gaze to the oil lamp on the table. The faint wisps of black smoke rising from it seemed eerily fitting in front of this slightly antiquated lamp.
At this point, she was almost certain of the answer: it was the gas emitted by this burning oil lamp that had caused her memory loss. But what about after extinguishing it? Would the oil continue to evaporate? Couldn't she just open the window?
"I wouldn't sleep with the window open," she thought. "Like I said, I'm a woman traveling alone in an unfamiliar place. Leaving such a glaring vulnerability is out of the question—absolutely impossible. So, I would definitely close the window. And in a sealed space, whether the lamp is lit or not, the memory loss would still progress.
"The most crucial question now is: how long does it take for this drug to take effect? How long until I lose consciousness and memory? No matter what method I use, if my behavior doesn't align with the expected timeline of the drug's effects, I'll reveal that I've discovered the secret of the memory loss. At that point, the village chief and the others would drop the act and force me to inhale that strange smoke directly.
"So, I must figure out the approximate timeframe."
The first version of herself who lost her memory must have realized this too. Judging by the current outcome, she had handled it flawlessly—after all, the village chief was still playing along today, meaning the first Wang Zhi hadn't exposed herself.
Despite the danger she was in now, she couldn't help but silently praise her past self: Well done, Wang Zhi.
That meant this room—or wherever she was headed next—must contain clues she had left for herself.
The moment this thought struck her, a cold sweat broke out. She had been so focused on how to break free that she hadn't considered the inevitability of the villagers returning at night to verify her condition. Perhaps their earlier "chance encounter" had been a test.
For now, she had to extinguish the lamp and pass this first inspection before anything else.
Without hesitation, Wang Zhi blew out the oil lamp and tightly secured the windows and door. At first, she had admired the solid wood construction, feeling a sense of security. Now, it was clear—these heavy barriers were meant to trap the evaporating drug inside.
She quickly lay on her side on the bed. Within minutes, faint footsteps approached the door.
Earlier, she had judged whether the village chief was still upstairs based on the sound of footsteps on the stairs, but she hadn't considered someone entering through the front door. The patrols she'd seen might not just have been checking for traces outside—they could have been monitoring the light in her room.
The best-case scenario now was that only the patrol was outside, allowing her to rely on her earlier deductions about the village chief's movements.
But that fragile hope shattered with the village chief's cheerful call: "Hey there, lass! I found a flashlight—want to use it? Makes midnight trips to the outhouse much easier!"
His warm, hearty laughter sent a wave of goosebumps crawling over Wang Zhi's skin.
"What should I do? What should I do? Is he checking if I'm asleep? Or testing whether my reaction matches before?" Wang Zhi felt like an ant on a hot pan, but she had to make a quick decision. What did I choose the first time? The most reasonable option? The lights had just gone out when the village chief's voice appeared at my door, so he must know I just turned them off. If I show fear now and pretend to sleep without responding, it would reveal that I'm aware of everything.
"Ah, Uncle Village Chief, thank you. Just leave the flashlight by the door. I'll grab it later." Wang Zhi deliberately softened her voice, making it sound hoarse and low to mimic someone just woken from sleep.
"Alright, alright. I'll leave it here then." Along with the sound of something being placed on the ground, the familiar creak of the door followed. Wang Zhi rolled out of bed, cracked the door open just enough to grab the flashlight, then shut it again.
Now with the flashlight in hand, she immediately rushed to the large cabinet, shining the light inside to inspect its walls. Earlier, the oil lamp incident had interrupted her train of thought. She had deduced that she must have left clues behind—but since she couldn't know whether the next day would be successful, the most logical place to leave them would be inside this very room. And the cabinet was the easiest spot to hide clues, as well as the only place that could help reduce the amount of drug fumes she inhaled.
After feeling around every inch, she finally noticed three fresh scratches. A shape resembling the number [3] appeared at the very center of the cabinet's top panel. The middle stroke was noticeably broken.
She recognized it instantly—the Li trigram. Li, the symbol of fire, the sun. The center of the cabinet, noon. So, she was supposed to act as if she had inhaled enough of the fumes, and by tomorrow at noon, she would faint—then begin another round of this so-called amnesia cycle.
But as Wang Zhi pieced together the timing, a question arose: Why didn't she have any way to track time? This was the 21st century, for heaven's sake! Wait—there must be a timekeeping device, yet she couldn't even recall the word for it or any related objects. It was as if part of her conceptual understanding had vanished.
This... was straying further and further from anything Wang Zhi could comprehend. Could a drug really erase her cognitive awareness? And then there was the village chief's face, starkly highlighted in the shifting light on the stairs earlier. Everything was veering toward the supernatural forces she had once scoffed at.
If that was the case, she needed to leave behind clues about her current realizations—just in case there was another cycle of amnesia. But how could she indicate that her memory loss involved the disappearance of conceptual knowledge?
If she carved out the related concepts or objects, then once she lost that knowledge, the carvings would just look like meaningless scratches. Wang Zhi stared at the chaotic marks scattered across the cabinet's interior and suddenly wondered—were all these just her past attempts to remind her future self of what she once knew?
No, there had to be a pattern. A sequence. Whether supernatural or not, since she still retained some cognitive ability—even enough to recognize trigrams—there must be an order to this. And if she assumed the worst-case scenario, the sequence would be arranged in the way most disadvantageous to her.
A secondary factor might be based on how useful certain objects were to her personally. But determining what was harmful or helpful required subjective judgment—meaning her conceptual amnesia was likely imposed by someone through a specific method.
Wang Zhi hesitated, then considered another possibility: What if the village chief's tattoos and that sinister deity truly held supernatural power? What if they had some means of blocking or forcing her to forget certain concepts?
P.S.: Wang Zhi's pupils must have had the hardest day today, constantly contracting in shock.
What Wang Zhi lacks most right now is something or some ability to help her contact the outside world. Only then could she have the confidence to venture alone into an unfamiliar place. Second, she would never go anywhere completely alone—there must have been some group or multiple people who came together. Third, she would never leave without informing her family.
This leads to two hypothetical conclusions. First, if she has forgotten a certain conceptual group, does that mean they once existed? This would also explain why the village patrol's tattoo has four circles. Perhaps she came here with four others. They're dead—that much is certain. But how? Would the outside world not care about their deaths? Impossible. At the very least, based on her current awareness, she still remembers her family and knows they love her. They would definitely try to contact and find her.
She knows this place has had some negative incidents, but those were isolated—maybe one or two disappearances every few years. If a group incident had occurred, no matter how remote this village was, even if it were 100 meters underground, the government wouldn't turn a blind eye. That would mean their positions—and their heads—would be on the line.
So, there must be some unknown factor preventing the outside world—whether the government or the missing people's families—from noticing. Conceptual amnesia. Wang Zhi stiffens. It's not just one-sided forgetting—it's mutual. If she forgets a conceptual group, the individuals within that group also forget her.
Moreover, all these plans and their execution would take time for her to uncover and find a way to break free. So, how much patience do the village chief and the others have left? Or rather, how much longer can she keep up this act?
Wang Zhi glances at the scratches on her body and suddenly considers another possibility. Could it be related to how many preparations she made before coming here? The village chief and the others need to eliminate all her contingencies. That means she has at least three days left. The worst-case scenario is that tomorrow, she'll be "discovered," either killed or forcibly memory-wiped. Then, the next amnesiac left. The worst-case scenario is that tomorrow, she'll be "discovered," either killed or forcibly memory-wiped. Then, the next amnesiac version of her would have two days to find a way out. That seems unrealistic—so the previous amnesiac version of her must have known.
At that point, she would have taken the most extreme measures to maximize exploration. Now, she needs to find any remaining clues to save time in her continued search.
A wave of helplessness washes over Wang Zhi. It seems everything depends on her own actions now. If someone really comes tomorrow, she'll need to ally with another person to break the deadlock—though she's pessimistic. If she were the village chief, she'd isolate that person. A few days would be enough to resolve everything.
Wang Zhi turns off her flashlight, slips quietly out of the cabinet, and bows deeply toward the window, murmuring a prayer: "Ancestral Master above, your disciple is trapped in peril. Grant me your protection to vanquish evil and restore peace to this world."
After speaking, she kowtows nine times. Just then, she faintly hears the grunting of pigs from the backyard. A sudden clarity strikes her. She rises, grabs her flashlight, and heads toward the pigpen.
A divine warning, an epiphany.
Wang Zhi knows—her key to breaking free must lie in the backyard pigpen.