Chapter 105, Exhibition 2, features more natural plot transitions...

The heating vents in the library were humming, and the wind made the pages of the books inside turn gently.

You put all the borrowed reference books back, carried your computer and notebook in your small basket, but clutched a USB drive in your hand, your face full of worry.

"Oh, do I really have to talk to the teacher? I don't speak Rosen... What if they yell at me, or I accidentally break the rules... Maybe I shouldn't go..."

Feeling the gentle tremor from the soul knot slowly tightening and twitching, you control your voice and make your words clearer: "No, I have to go. I finally finished all this, and then I'll never have to leave the house again."

Your heart is pounding, a mix of excitement and trepidation. But it's okay, you're not at a disadvantage anyway.

If she actually sees the fake notice and believes it, then you've struck gold. If she doesn't, then you can do your thing and go straight home.

"The printing system is malfunctioning and temporarily out of service. Please bring your USB drive to the underground archives room to register for printing manually."

This is the notice you just posted next to the self-service printer.

It's called an "attachment," but it's really just something sprayed with water and stuck to the glass. The heating system will dry it quickly, and it will fall off naturally.

There weren't many people in the library. Apart from the scavengers who clung to you like lapdogs and lurked in the shadows, you could be sure no one else would see you.

—Then it can't be considered that you pasted things randomly; it's just that the paper you printed "fell" out on its own.

As for how the printer system actually broke down…

These self-service printers are connected to the library's computer system. They are used by many people and require few repairs, making them prone to malfunctions.

Simply plug and unplug the USB drive repeatedly into several printers, keep switching language settings, and then frantically print several PDFs with garbled text; the system will quickly crash.

Even if there is an administrator, if she sees you frowning and messing around from afar, she'll think, "What a silly international student." She's seen it so many times that she can't be bothered with you. She'll peek out and see your shy but forced smile, then shrug and shrink back.

And what will the liquidator think? She'll only see a printer that's genuinely stuck and malfunctioning, and assume you're going to take a USB drive to the underground archive to print. So... she'll go downstairs first, disguise herself as an ordinary user, and take the opportunity to tamper with the rules of the underground archive.

—If the liquidator wants to change the rules, he must go to that scene in person.

You didn't plan to go.

If she wants to set a trap, then let her set it up herself.

You only feel the Soul Knot's reaction weaken, and then it shakes violently again.

Then you put on a silly, innocent expression, like every hoodlum who can't speak the local language, fearful but forced to muster all your courage and "face death" as you head to the faculty office.

You said in a low, hesitant voice in Rosen, "Print? I... this, I... won't..."

The teacher on duty frowned and replied directly in English, "Which department are you from? Can't you use it anymore?"

You looked both aggrieved and confused, waving your hands helplessly up and down like a foreigner you'd seen on TV, and kept repeating in Rose language, "No... the printer... is broken?"

The teacher looked at you with a stern and disdainful expression. She finally sighed heavily, stood up, and waved her hand: "Come with me."

She led you to the printer, took your USB drive, and simply asked which documents you wanted to print. Amid your repeated expressions of gratitude, she printed out the contents you had already prepared.

I just thought you were a stupid teacher, so I resignedly gave you a folder, neatly packed it, and put it in your basket.

You happily bowed repeatedly to thank the teacher, who nodded at you and returned to her workstation expressionlessly.

Your own problems are completely resolved, but instead of leaving, you sit down on a reading bench nearby.

Just a moment later, the Soul Knot snapped.

That wasn't a warning, but rather a feeling similar to "breaking down".

You paused.

This feeling is strange. Even though it is an inanimate object, you can clearly feel that the soul knot is like some kind of small animal that has burst out with the last bit of life force, struggling violently, but only for a moment, it returns to stillness.

The person on that side was dead.

So this is what it feels like?

You savor the sensations transmitted through the soul knot, and ponder quietly.

You didn't see it with your own eyes, but you know what happened.

The liquidator saw the fake notice you posted, and combined with your repeated saying "today is the last time I'm going out," he assumed you were in a hurry to print documents, so you would definitely go to the underground archives to print them.

The "rules" were clearly posted on the wall; she could easily have changed them on the spot.

Perhaps it's "those who print without registering are considered to be in violation"; perhaps it's "printing must be completed, otherwise it's considered an intrusion"; perhaps it's "those who bring USB drives outside the rules will be dealt with"—you're a little curious.

But none of that matters, because you'll never go to the underground archives. Because the underground archives are never open to students.

The fake notice you posted implies that the rule "students are not allowed to go to the underground resource room" has changed, and that students are now in a special situation where they can go to the resource room to print things themselves; but this is not the case.

She changed a fake rule, but in reality, nothing was changed. Then, in order to change the features of this fake rule, she went into the underground archive room, directly violating the rules and being punished by the instance.

It's not a big problem, and you've already calmed down.

Looking at the documents you had compiled, you walked quickly back to your dormitory, making sure to stop by a pastry shop along the way to buy a wet cake for the dormitory supervisor.

You still have a lot to do.

You turn on your computer and are busy doing the tasks your aunt assigned you until the day you are supposed to meet her.

My aunt seems to be a very strict perfectionist. Even though she says, "The main purpose is to train you, not to make you do a great job," she is so meticulous that you have to revise the patterns on the edges of the PPT again and again until she is satisfied.

The appointed day arrived quickly.

Early in the morning, you got up and made yourself look sharp and energetic.

My aunt was already incredibly busy, and with the exhibition about to open, these merchants were practically living at the venue. She promised to pick you up, but in the end, she transferred the money and told you to take a taxi yourself.

Okay, this is your first time leaving this suburban area to go to the city center.

With the weather fine, you look at the buildings along the way that resemble the style of the Flower Kingdom buildings and can't help but feel a little sentimental.

The site was quickly arrived at, and many workers were moving various goods in and out, and the gate was a little messy.

The security guard saw you rushing in, looking blank, and quickly stopped you, speaking with a slight accent: "What's wrong with you?"

You quickly gave your aunt's name and handed over your ID. The security guard checked your documents before letting you pass.

It looks very professional. You think to yourself, quite curious about this kind of place.

However, the most urgent task is to find my aunt as soon as possible.

You still don't know what your aunt looks like...

Although you can find her photos in her WeChat Moments, you can only see her vibrant energy from the heavily filtered and smoothed photos, but you can't tell what she looks like.

You can't help but think of your own mother, who also spends all day scrolling through short videos and always uses built-in filters to make herself look 20 again.

Young people might think it's outdated and unattractive, but these happy aunties of their age just find it delightful.

Thinking this, you laughed out loud. But the corners of your mouth quickly drooped down.

You don't have a "aunt" at all, so don't project too much of your own emotions onto her.

It's all so messy here, it's really hard to find anyone. Your aunt hasn't replied to your messages yet, she's probably busy.

Fortunately, there were bilingual signs everywhere, and following the signs, you quickly walked to the office area on the second floor of the exhibition hall.

Most of the workers and business representatives were busy downstairs, while the upstairs area was rather quiet and dim.

Footsteps echoed crisply in the empty corridor. As you turned the corner through the red-and-blue gradient door in the exhibition hall's foyer, you saw the figure of a woman.

She hadn't even turned around, but you already knew—

"Auntie...?" you called softly.

The woman, who was exchanging pleasantries with someone, immediately turned her head, her brows relaxed, and she waved at you with one hand.

Seeing her appearance, you only feel a chill down your spine.

She looks very much like your real mother. If your mother really had an older sister, she would probably look like this.

You paused, secretly pinched your palm, and happily called out "Auntie" as you ran up to her.

"Oh my, our little darling is finally here. Oh, don't run away, don't run away, be steady!" She walked towards you, hugged you, and pressed the skin under your eyes. "Didn't sleep well last night? Look at these dark circles under your eyes, tsk tsk, your mother is going to worry about you again."

You can hardly resist the strange feeling that comes from the heart, so you lower your head and scratch your head in embarrassment.

"Did you change anything about what your aunt told you yesterday?" Fortunately, this "aunt" didn't intend to indulge in a long period of paternal affection and immediately got to the point.

"I've finished revising the text for the intangible cultural heritage tea ceremony section, and I've added background information to the sachet section. I also looked up some folk images from Siberia... Later, fearing I might make a mistake, I left a gap in the Huaying script for comparison. I didn't dare translate the Rose language section myself." Turn on the computer and let her look at it herself.

"Smart." Auntie nodded, quite surprised that you actually did such a good job. "Studying abroad really helps you grow up. Our baby has really become a grown-up."

You chuckled awkwardly a few times, then your aunt lowered her voice and said, "You were right not to mistranslate the Romani language. They are very sensitive to historical and cultural terms here. Those of us in the cross-border cultural industry must not break any taboos."

As she spoke, she pulled you toward the exhibition area.

"I need to meet with a few important people before the meeting today. I'm sending you here to practice and get a feel for the situation."

She leads you through a curtain, and you step on a red carpet that is not yet fully laid out. You hear the noise of booth workers using electric drills to fix light fixtures.

Auntie pointed to several large exhibition area models in front of her: "Look, this is your auntie's main exhibition area. On the left is the 'Immersive Experience of Solar Terms Culture,' over there is the 'Silk Road Aroma Story Box,' and there is also a 'Flower and Summer Crafts Interactive Display.' Does it look familiar?"

Your aunt looks at you with a warm smile, kind and approachable.

You remained wary, yet secretly breathed a sigh of relief, leaning a little closer to her. After all, the exhibition hall had actually used the content you had compiled, which made this lowly office worker, used to being a service provider, feel quite proud.

Of course, you came up with the concept design, but the specific layout and art design were someone else's job. At first glance, the exhibition area has a grand yet welcoming atmosphere, with off-white and navy blue as the main colors, and the patterns are mixed with the decorative style of the Kingdom of Los Angeles in a surprisingly natural way.

You exclaimed "Wow!" and thought it had great aesthetic appeal.

"Didn't you always say that your major is useless and has no application in life? Look at this, this is what it means to have mastered tourism management and cultural tourism integration." Aunt patted your shoulder. "You'll be meeting Ms. Zhang from our Overseas Chinese Federation and a representative from the city's Chamber of Commerce in a little while—her surname is Vasilyva. She doesn't speak Ying language very well. Just keep smiling."

You nodded, a professional smile playing on your lips.

“If anyone asks what you did, just say you were an intern in our data editing team. Don’t go into too much detail—‘assisting in text planning.’ It sounds sophisticated but isn’t specific, so no one can find fault with it.” Auntie repeated the word in her soft voice.

You read it aloud once.

"Here, pin this badge on." The aunt took out an official exhibition identification badge from her bag and pinned it to your chest.

Looking down, it read: "Hualuo Cultural Tourism Export Project - Intern Curator Assistant".

“There’s a slogan for the exhibition hall that you should remember,” she said, pulling you toward the main hall. “It’s called ‘Culture that can be felt, originating from authenticity.’ This is something the organizers have been emphasizing.”

Your heart skipped a beat, and you involuntarily tightened your grip on the folder in your hand.

Culture is perceptible because it originates from authenticity.

Think back to why you came here in the first place, and those "dark histories" you were forced to bear before...

Suddenly I feel like hiding.

But your aunt has already pushed you to the entrance of the exhibition hall.

“Laugh!” she whispered.

You smile, look up, and walk into the exhibition area.

The interior lighting was all set to a warm color, and the light fixtures were not yet fully installed, with the exposed metal beams hanging in mid-air like a skeleton. To the left was a large canvas displaying a promotional poster for "Cultural Tourism Symbiosis," and to the right was a newly assembled transparent display case.

Your aunt led you to the first person.

"Ms. Zhang!" she said with a warm smile. "Let me introduce you. This is my sister's daughter. She's studying for her undergraduate degree in cultural communication and is helping our team with the document review this time. She's a diligent, hardworking, and thoughtful young lady."

Ms. Zhang was probably in her fifties, with gray hair but a sprightly spirit, and wore a pair of thin-rimmed glasses.

She looked at you, nodded and smiled: "You're a good young man, you have cultural confidence, you've come to the right place. Observe more, practice more, and you can learn a lot from your aunt."

You accept the business card he offers with both hands, a polite smile playing on your lips: "Thank you, Ms. Zhang. I will study hard."

"I heard there's a seasonal tea ceremony interactive booth this time, is that organized by your side?" she asked.

Before you could answer, your aunt had already handed you a folded brochure: "This is the page, 'Seasonal flavors, flowers and plants have their own language.' We're using a combination of cultural, sensory, and memory concepts."

Ms. Zhang glanced at it and said, "Not bad, this storytelling style is acceptable to foreign audiences."

“There are still many modules to come, and my child is organizing them. Our child is really smart.” After saying that, the aunt patted you on the shoulder, “Come on, let’s introduce him to ‘Old Wa’.”

Given your previous negative experience, you were actually a little reluctant to go on social engagements, but your aunt's tone left you no room for refusal.

You are led to a burly, middle-aged woman with ashen white skin. She is dressed in a military green suit and stands like an iron pillar.

“Representative Vasilyva,” the aunt said with a smile, switching to heavily accented but very confident Russian, “this is our team’s assistant for curating the language of flowers.”

The woman nodded, her lips trembled slightly, and she began chatting with her aunt.

"She asked if you've ever been to Los Angeles," the aunt quickly translated.

"I've been there once, and I took a boat to see the Neva River at night." You nodded.

Vasilyva's facial lines softened slightly, and she said something else.

The aunt translated: "She said she believes culture is a bridge, and she's not afraid that young people lack experience, but she is afraid that young people are not serious."

You smiled slightly: "I will take it seriously."

She added, "I will study Rosen language carefully." — This is a Rosen phrase you specifically learned.

Upon hearing this, Ms. Vasilyva's seemingly icy face instantly melted like snow, and she shook hands with you with great satisfaction.

Ms. Vasiliva was the representative of the Ross country at the exhibition, and many people came to greet her. However, the main focus of this exhibition was the various product displays of other people, rather than the cultural exchange section of her aunt's side, so she quickly said goodbye.

Meanwhile, you have to continue your social engagements, and your aunt pulls you toward the next person.

As you weave through the crowd, you hear her repeating her introduction: "This is my sister's daughter...yes, she's from the cultural documents verification section..."

"Yes, her grades are excellent..."

"My sister's daughter...was sensible and capable even back in China..."

In your aunt's words, your identity is becoming more and more like that of a promising young man.

You smiled sheepishly, your fingers rubbing against the edge of the notebook.

Actually, your aunt mainly wanted to introduce you to your great-aunt, who were the two people mentioned earlier. The rest were just acquaintances exchanging pleasantries. Gradually, your attention wandered.

You glanced down at the "Flower Kingdom's Finest Essence - Collector's Set" on the display stand, which stood out conspicuously among a bunch of big-name Flower Kingdom products.

Suddenly, a page that you once posted on your WeChat Moments pops into your mind.

Two eyes blinked.

Really?

Just as you were about to take another look, your aunt gently nudged you from behind.

"Come on, let's go check out that incense box booth over there—you even wrote the core copy for me. Go find the ladies over there and familiarize yourselves with our booth; Lao Wa and the others might ask you some questions."

You nod, but feel a dryness in your throat.

Right now, all you want to do is confirm one thing: is that design pattern the logo of the manufacturer that supplied "you" with counterfeit goods?

Ironically, my aunt, who seemed to have endless time to chat with other merchants and fellow countrymen, suddenly found herself busy.

You tried to sneak away several times with excuses, but you were caught and stopped each time.

It was as if it were intentional.

You just don't believe it.

In the end, you took advantage of the time you went to the restroom to return to that booth.

You have confirmed this and your police

This is a skincare set that claims to be from Huaguo Select, but I've never heard of the brand, and the packaging is very simple and lacks quality.

You stare at the "Hualuo Dual Certification" label on the packaging box, take out your phone and check—it really is the shipment from the manufacturer you once cooperated with through gray-market purchasing agents.

Suddenly everything went black.

This skincare set was placed in a booth themed "The Fusion of Traditional Formulas and Modern Technology." While the other exhibits were fairly well-designed, this set stood out starkly, as if it had been deliberately placed there.

There are no other counterfeit products, no other non-compliant products. Just this one set.

As noon approached, everyone was busy finishing their tasks so they could have lunch, and no one noticed that the expression on your face changed from surprise and confusion to... vigilance.

"Is this... targeting me?" you asked yourself in a low voice.

Very likely.

At first, you naively thought that the so-called exhibition was just a bunch of random stalls, like the so-called "Loss Kingdom Brand Shop" that sprang up everywhere in the Flower Kingdom before you entered the instance.

I only realized when I arrived that the exhibition setup had been reviewed by the Overseas Chinese Federation at every level. All exhibitors had to provide factory qualifications, brand registration, product samples, and export certifications. It was a very formal and authoritative local event.

You saw and heard your aunt handing over the checklist with your own eyes.

Yeah, how could counterfeit goods possibly get mixed in?

You crouch down, pretending to tie your shoelaces, glancing at the staff in the corner of the booth. Nobody notices you.

You stand up and walk towards the booth.

The skincare products are neatly arranged in a semi-open, transparent cabinet. You pretend to be looking at the ingredient list, your heart pounding.

The counter wasn't locked, and you know that most of the exhibits weren't fully sealed in their boxes the night before the exhibition.

Press your right index finger against the side of the glass, and slowly pinch the bottles of skincare products between your left index and middle fingers.

You can feel that familiar plastic texture.

It's not heavy at all; it's as light as a poorly made empty shell model.

You slowly move it out of the display case, 1 centimeter, 2 centimeters... There is no alarm.

With your back to the exhibition hall wall, quickly retreat to the back area of ​​the set.

No one is pursuing you right now.

You hid the skincare product at the very bottom of your file folder, under the document folder your aunt had asked you to bring.

You stand in the shadows and slowly exhale.

"Okay," you said softly.

You want to try destroying the evidence—even if it doesn't work, it's definitely a key item that might trigger something unexpected.

To put it bluntly, this product is like bait—if someone puts it in, someone will be waiting for your response.

If you don't react, will the copy assume you didn't notice, or will it use this to corroborate your past "crimes"?

The wind and waves are calm.

You simply walk away, ready to throw it out.

But just as you are about to step out of the exhibition hall, a sudden gust of wind blows the door shut.

Behind them, all the lights went out one by one.

Instead, there are beams of spotlight patrolling back and forth.

As you step on the smooth marble floor, even the slightest breeze makes the grass rustle and patter.

The entire exhibition hall was eerily quiet at that moment, and you slowly turned around.

A piercing crackling sound of radio waves rang out.

A cold, mechanical female voice announced over the loudspeaker: "An investigation has revealed the presence of counterfeit items at this exhibition. Counterfeit and substandard goods must be physically destroyed. Please assist us in completing the cleanup." (Bilingual announcement)

Before you could even process what those words meant, you saw the first person turn around amidst the interplay of light and shadow.

She was a staff member whom your aunt had greeted when she brought you around before. She had a round face, and although the flower she represented wasn't auspicious, she tried her best and chatted with you kindly for a few minutes.

But now she's grinning at you, her mouth stretched even wider than before—no, way too wide. Her smile freezes, reaching all the way to her ears, making her look like a matryoshka doll with its paint smudged.

“Ya na sh la (Found it),” she said. Her voice became unusually clear, and even the sticky, muted sounds of Rosenborg seemed to crumble at the slightest touch.

Her voice wasn't loud, but dozens of staff members behind her, from security guards to exhibitors, all stopped what they were doing.

Footsteps, hundreds and thousands of footsteps, came from all directions of the main exhibition hall.

They were like activated programs, starting to move in sync.

You instinctively take a step back, but behind you is a door that you can't open no matter what you do.

Tsk. You turn and run towards the nearest passage.

The sound of shattering glass came from behind, a display case was overturned, and an exhibitor rushed over at incredible speed, stepping on the glass shards.

You hear him shouting, "What exactly are you hiding?! It's because of unqualified merchants like you that our international reputation is being damaged! We are the real officials!"

God knows you're just a scapegoat! Of course, there's no point in saying all this. You hate that fake reseller so much you're itching to get your teeth clean, and you're even angrier at this damn manufacturer.

If you think about it carefully, you'll understand why this manufacturer's product is here: even if it's a copy designed to find fault with you, the underlying logic is that the manufacturer's purpose is to scam Chinese people themselves.

"If you're going to do something really complicated, then if counterfeit goods don't sell well, just package them as 'foreign-made' products and dump them back into the country. All you need to do is find a foreigner to endorse them."

You didn't dare look back at all, you just hugged the folder tightly, rushed past the first bend, and ran wildly in the direction of the exhibition area where your aunt was, as you remembered her.

You're practically drawing up a map of the exhibition area in your mind: starting from where you are, you have to go through at least three main passages to reach the Flower Kingdom Cultural Tourism Derivatives Area—that's where Auntie is in charge of the booth.

As soon as you turn into the first long corridor, you hear the announcement playing again:

"Exhibition warning: Counterfeiters have been found to have infiltrated the exhibition. All exhibition staff are requested to respond immediately."

…outrageous.

The ground is littered with trash, making it harder for you to run.

You find that being illuminated by spotlights attracts more attention, while in the dark, you are ignored even if you walk right past them.

With a sudden turn of your foot, you kick over those booths that were still unloading goods, creating a hiding place for yourself.

You need to stop and think about what's going on.

Unfortunately, this kick knocked over an interactive display machine in the corner of the exhibition hall.

The moment you saw the demo machine fall, the screen automatically lit up, displaying your student photo, passport scan, and several past transaction records.

Your scalp tingles.

"This is... a complete compilation of my past?!" you muttered to yourself, recognizing the company that manufactured the machine. Sure enough, it was a system developed by a smart portrait company from the Flower Country.

Okay.

You crouch down, shrinking into a ball among the ever-growing, distorted faces of the "exhibitors" around you, as spotlights sweep in from all directions, and you slowly move to your new position.

Some of the numb yet highly orderly staff had mouths split into three pieces, and some had their eyes dangling in front of their mouths, yet they could still respond to commands with sounds like, "Pursue...pursue..."

It's frightening to look at.

With these people following us, the worst outcome is that we'll be trapped in the center of some venue.

You would have to exert all your strength to overturn the booth; carrying it around and running around is obviously not feasible.

However, it seems that as long as they don't get caught, there's still room for negotiation. That's alright.

Looking at the fake set in your arms, you still feel you should bring this thing with you.

After all, you've already been forcibly labeled a "counterfeit seller," so even if you throw it away, it might not be of any use. Keeping it might allow you to "voluntarily surrender" it.

Looking at the group of "alien" again, you decided to take the plunge and ran towards the light.

In an instant, everyone rushed towards you.

As the groups of pursuers converge, you knock over another large booth.

While they were still confused, you rolled over and dashed towards another large booth in the opposite direction.

That's the side door at the end of the exhibition area. Shall we go in and take a look?

You kick the door open, revealing a corridor surrounded by layers of plastic sheeting and unfinished wooden frames, but no one is there for the moment. You rush through it recklessly.

This exhibition hall is interconnected; even if you take a slightly roundabout route, you can still find your way back to your aunt.

You always feel that your "aunt" still has her significance, and you have to go back to her side to find out her condition before you can do anything else.

With no pursuers on this road, you continue to think as you run.

The fact that the instance assigns you the identity of a "black market reseller" is obviously for its own twisted sense of humor or deeper meaning, but you don't understand what the purpose is—is it to make you admit that you once sold counterfeit goods? However, the existence of the liquidator shows that there is no trial process, only direct liquidation.

Right now, your identity is causing you a lot of trouble, but you don't think attending the exhibition with your "aunt" is inevitable. If you politely decline your aunt's offer, how will the black market smuggling scandal explode?

Perhaps this is the key to solving the current situation.

You force yourself to stand up and double-check your orientation.

You are now in the "Los Kingdom Traditional Industrial Handicraft Experience Hall". You must pass through this area to continue.

You don't know what else you'll encounter. All you know is: you can't stop.

You push aside the curtain that reads "Unfinished, please do not enter" and enter the first exhibition area.

It was pitch black everywhere, but as you carefully walked down, a dim yellow light seemed to shine out from the crack in the heavy iron door, as if deliberately lit for you.

There was no sign on the door, and this room wasn't even marked on the exhibition hall's zoning map.

You hesitated for a few seconds, then pushed open the door.

A wave of heat hit us.

This wasn't the typical cool air conditioning in the showroom; instead, it was a strong smell of rust and diesel fuel mixed together and emitted due to the high temperature of the machinery.

The ceiling is extremely high, and the chandeliers resemble projectors from an abandoned factory, with rusty steel rails hanging from them. In the center of the exhibition area is a huge old-fashioned lathe, next to which is a half-covered industrial robotic arm with cables snaking across the floor like snakes.

In a corner of the exhibition hall, an old CNC instrument panel suddenly turned on by itself.

Click...click...

The gauges on the dashboard, which should have stopped long ago, started spinning, and the red lights came on one after another.

You instinctively stepped back, but then you heard that sound—

Metal gears are locked in place, the motor vibrates, and cooling water gurgles in the pipes.

A hydraulic arm covered in a gray-green metal shell was raised in front of you.

You stood there, stunned, as if you'd been called out by name.

All that could be heard from the dilapidated loudspeaker was a series of strange sounds—something being said in the language of Rose.

You take a step back, and the iron gate behind you slams shut automatically.

You're locked inside the belly of this junk steel monster.

Suddenly, the robotic arm swung out at a much faster speed than you imagined! You rolled to the side and barely dodged it.

You run desperately, the ground is slippery with oil stains and residue, and your feet make a sticky, dull sound, making you sink deeper and deeper as you try to escape.

Behind the robotic arm is an "automatic welding test platform" with the exhibition number on it (Hua Luoying's three-language description). As if it had been awakened, it suddenly stretched out two "hands" and tried to grab you the moment you ran past—it was originally used to demonstrate spot welding of metal joints!

You stumbled and fled into the back area, where a row of giant cutting arms for display stood silently. You thought they weren't powered on, but suddenly their power lights turned on one after another.

In your panic, you knocked over a display stand, and the metal plate crashed down with a deafening roar.

The lights flickered on and off, but the announcement suddenly switched to that familiar female voice from the exhibition—

"Welcome to the Hualuo Heavy Industry Cooperation Exhibition Area. Please do not touch the equipment. If the machinery starts, please contact the on-duty engineering personnel. Do not run away."

It seems we've already entered another side of the exhibition.

As you work towards the answer, you discover that many of the rusty, dilapidated machines here are essentially the destroyed versions of the large-scale machinery exhibited by some of the vendors from the Los Angeles country at the trade show.

Try shaking the door again. You can't escape.

Wait patiently for the changes to happen.

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Author's note: Hehe