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Chapter 132: The World of Strange Realism

The four newcomers who came in together were colleagues. Their company had sent them for a business meeting at the Crystal Swan Hotel, and after the meeting, they went to the art gallery to pass the time, only to be met with this unlucky and bizarre thing.

Zhao Haicui, the girl with the curly hair, was a long-time employee of the company. The other female newcomer was Wei Miao, whose choice of props was the dragon horn headband. At this moment, with long rabbit ears and dragon horn, they were crying, looking both strange and comical.

The name of the other two males colleagues were Zhang Lifeng, who had the two longan cores, and Ge Lei, who was now wearing the red and white striped T shirt and black bell bottoms.

“Thirteen people divided into six groups, with at least two in each group. Let’s divide now,” Qin Ci said after the introductions.

“I want to ask, what basis are you planning to use for the grouping?” Luo Wei, who was also a newcomer, carefully watched Qin Ci from behind his glasses.

“Usually,” Qin Ci said calmly, “the basis is to form groups voluntarily.”

There were many unexplained meanings in this sentence. After Qin Ci finished speaking, he looked at Luo Wei and waited for him to speak.

Luo Wei really did have something to say. Pushing up the glasses on his face, expression calm, he said, “For those of us who are new to the painting, I would rather you pair a veteran with a newcomer. But obviously, I don’t think you people would agree to this request. What’s more, I don’t want to be separated from Yaqing.”

After speaking, he glanced at Qi Qiang and Huang Pi standing on the outermost periphery of the group. It was obvious that those two people would not be willing to bring a newcomer. Even if they do, who could guarantee that they wouldn’t use those newcomers as scapegoats when they encounter danger.

“So, do you have any better suggestions?” Qin Ci asked him.

“In fact, in this kind of disorderly and socially constrained situation, no one has the obligation to think about others.” Luo Wei was so calm and rational that he was almost ruthless. “You can form teams at will. We aren’t qualified to interfere. But if, and only if, if you want, you can consider not dividing into six groups, where 5 groups would only have two people. This is an extremely unscientific grouping method. If the rules of the painting is the option to choose, then each group should have at least three talents. Once faced with the need to choose A or B when there is a disagreement, the minority can vote to achieve the majority decision.”

“If you have a group of three, why not have a group of four?” Wei Dong asked.

Luo Wei glanced at Wei Dong with a disdainful look. “We’re living people, not machines. If we have an even number of people in a group, then we would still be at a deadlock. We need someone to cooperatively make a final, deciding choice. So, do you agree with my proposal?”

The last sentence was for Qin Ci, but Luo Wei still subconsciously glanced at Mu Yiran, who was standing a few steps away from Qin Ci. With the meticulous and careful observation of a man of science and engineering, he intuitively felt that this silent and cold man was the one who really had the final say in this group of veterans.

If they were in groups of three, they would have to divide into four groups. However, there were six worlds in front of them. Finding the signature was a race against time. Leaving two worlds unexplored might mean decreasing their chance of escaping.

Qin Ci looked at his companions with questioning eyes, silently asking them for their opinions.

“That’s fine. Then let’s divide into four groups of three,” Ke Xun answered the most simply. “Since we choose to determine our destiny, then we choose to divide into four groups and give up the entrance to the two worlds for the time being. That is also our fate. Maybe our ‘choice’ has already begun.”

“Alright, I agree to divide into four groups,” Wei Dong said.

“I agree too,” Zhu Haowen said.

“What’s your opinion?” Qin Ci asked the other newcomers.

“I don’t care. But no matter how many groups we are divided into, I have to be with you, and you have to be responsible for me!” Zhao Haicui, the woman with the curly hair, pulled on Qin Ci’s sleeve.

Qin Ci tried but couldn’t get rid of Zhao Haicui’s hold. He shook his head helplessly and looked at his companion. “How to group?”

“I’ll be in a group with Yiran,” Ke Xun said.

“No one asked you.” Wei Dong rolled his eyes, “I also want to be in a group with Yiran.”

Ke Xun: “…”

“Ke Xun and I will be in a group,” Mu Yiran said. “Wei Dong and Haowen will be together, and Dr. Qin can take Luo Wei and Li Yaqing. The rest can casually decide for themselves.”

“Please pay attention to the time. Before 11 o’clock in the evening, if possible, try to return to this room. Since the rule of the painting is usually not to cause everyone to die on the same night, if we rush back here before midnight, we will definitely reduce the probability of death.”

“After entering your world of choice, everyone pay attention to leave a mark along the way to prevent getting lost on the way back, and at the same time, leaving tracks for others to find you.”

“I brought paper and pen, and I’ll leave it in this room. When someone is able to return to this room, you can leave a message on the paper for the people who haven’t returned yet. Be as detailed as possible about your group’s experience and explain clearly what your group’s future plan is.”

“Time waits for no one. It’s better to start now.”

After speaking, he glanced at Ke Xun, and Ke Xun immediately followed. The two of them walked toward one of the entrances.

Mu Yiran allowed the other newcomers and Qi Qiang and Huang Pi to decide how to group themselves. Whoever wanted to follow them, it would be entirely voluntary.

Surprisingly, it turned out to be Huang Pi.

Qi Quang had originally moved his feet to follow after them, but when he saw Huang Pi move, he stopped. In the end, he chose to form a group with a male and a female newcomer.

Ke Xun speculated that Qi Qiang probably wanted to do the same thing he’d done in the last painting. He wanted to pick a soft persimmon to pit. The newcomers knew nothing about the world of the painting, so they could be used as substitutes for scapegoating and pathfinding.

However, Ke Xun didn’t spare any effort to intervene in this. In the painting, no one could protect themselves. Therefore, how could he have the strength to continuously help others avoid calculation and persecution?

Ke Xun only told Wei Dong, Zhu Haowen, and Qin Ci to be more careful, and then together with Mu Yiran and Huang Pi, he stepped through the round door.

Ke Xun followed at the rear, paying particular attention to the Confucian scarf Huang Pi was wearing. With the scarf on, his head looked like a shaved thumb. This, coupled with his ferocious face like a labor prisoner, made him look almost comical.

Looking back at the room behind him, he saw that the round door was already closed. From the outside, the room looked like a rustic mud brick house with no windows and dry straw for a roof.

Ke Xun speculated that this room would have different appearances when viewed from different worlds.

Turning back to look at the world that was in front of him, there was an indescribable sense of violation.

There were mountains in the distance and trees nearby. The left landscape was a block of farmland while the right was speckled with sparse cottages. The hue of this entire world was very strange. It looked faded and old, like something straight out of an old movie or an old pile of books.

Whether it was mountains, trees, fields, or houses, all of them were old and gloomy, and when you looked closely, every line was quite odd. There were no absolute horizontal or vertical lines. Even the cross beams, the window frames, and the door frames had a kind of undulation, a curve that didn’t conform to anything that made sense.

“I’m a little scared.”

When Mu Yiran heard Ke Xun suddenly say this, he couldn’t help but look at him.

Wasn’t this kid always so brave and courageous during the course of entering and exiting paintings again and again? What was he afraid of now?

“When I was young, I was very afraid of old movies like this,” Ke Xun said. “Those kinds of black and white films, regardless of whether with or without sounds, have a dim yellowish color like this, and there’s always something called…”

“Particle noise,” Mu Yiran completed in understanding.

“Yes, it’s the kind of texture that keeps moving around on the screen.” Ke Xun touched his arm, as if a layer of goosebumps had formed there. “The sounds of those movies were also loud and abrupt, and I know this sounds even more weird, but I always feel that the people in those movies aren’t like living people at all.”

So in this world like an old movie, would there be a group of strange “living” people?

“Whatever it is, let’s find someone to ask about the situation here first.” Ke Xun, who had just said that he was afraid, had already taken a step forward and was striding toward the distant place where there were humans.

Along the way, Ke Xun made very obvious marks on trees or on the side of the road every few distances. These marks were a set of special symbols that only those from the same groups would understand. The symbols not only indicate the direction the person making the mark was traveling in but also provide information on the current situation and directives on what to do.

However, in order to make it easier for newcomers to understand, he also left behind some explanatory texts and signs.

When they reached a field that was overgrown with dried cracks, they saw an elderly grandfather and his grandson ploughing the field with great effort. They were wearing the clothes of ancient civilians with their hairs wrapped up in a bun. Their clothes were shabby and worn nearly to strips, so old that there was almost no color left.

Their skin was like the tones of the earth, yellow and dark, and they looked hungry, even though their fingers and waists were thick and round.

“May I ask…” Ke Xun stepped forward to inquire, affecting the tones of the ancients. He cupped his fist as a propriety and said, “Uncle, this…er, where is this place?”

The old man slowly raised his head. His gray beard didn’t have the texture of human hair. It was hard to describe what that texture was; it was a bit like strips of cloth coated in mud, not looking like a beard at all/

With the experience gained from the previous paintings, even if Ke Xun felt that the old man in front of him was very strange, he dared not show it. Instead, he pretended to look at him in a very natural manner.

“You’re outsiders,” the old man said slowly, his voice carrying the sound quality of very old movies. Ke Xun couldn’t help but shift a few steps closer to Mu Yiran’s side. “This is White Flower Village.”

The name of the village sounded nice, but Ke Xun glanced around and didn’t see any flowers at all. Or, even if he did see flowers, it was such a dark yellow that it was indistinguishable from everything else.

Knowing the village’s name brought no additional clues at all. Ke Xun scratched his head, not knowing what else to ask. After all, up to now, he still had no clues about how to find the signature and no knowledge of the death condition in this painting.

“Uncle, the fields here are a bit dry. Will the harvest be affected?” Mu Yiran, who had been silent up until now, suddenly asked a question that had nothing to do with the painting.