Chapter 152 Subway Surfers 3 Everyone loves reading novels
Before you is the carriage you left, and ahead, the light source symbolizing the destination has shrunk to just a tiny dot.
"Sister, how could this happen!" Xiao Lu asked breathlessly.
You don't know either!
You stand still, a chill runs through you, and an extreme weariness suddenly washes over you, as if your body has been drained of all its strength in this vicious cycle.
"Damn it..." you muttered under your breath, unable to help but lean against the car wall to catch your breath.
Xiao Lu was also exhausted. She staggered two steps and knelt on the car seat to rest for the time being.
Her shoulders heaved violently, her breathing erratic. Whether it was the flashlight beam being too bright in the darkness or something else, her face was completely bloodless. She had exhausted all her remaining strength protecting others, and now even standing was difficult.
Before you could catch your breath, your eyes swept behind you, and that black rustling sound approached again—the rats had all followed you in!
Not a second of rest!
You started again, and this time, Xiao Lu fell to the ground after running only a couple of steps.
Xiao Lu seemed completely out of sorts, and couldn't get up no matter how hard he tried.
You pause, and in that instant, you make a decision.
You went back, grabbed Xiao Lu's arm, and pulled her up.
"Stand up! Run steadily!" you shouted, half to scare her, "If you fall again, I won't help you anymore."
Xiao Lu didn't reply. After she got up, she tightly grasped your hand, and you pulled her along as you ran.
Once she picked up the pace, she gradually adjusted her rhythm, let go of you, and steadily followed behind you.
The swarm of rats behind your ears scurried about, sounding like a torrent about to engulf you.
But you know, running like this isn't going to work. That distant dot of light ahead is like a plastic carrot dangling from a donkey's head; if you just keep staring at it and run, you'll only wear yourself out.
"I need to think of a way..." you gasped for breath as you frantically searched your mind for any rules that might be able to be manipulated.
Desperately, you soon realize that most rules are designed for human society.
To date, aside from the minor rules within the scenario, you haven't seen any rules that actually work for animals.
Even if you wanted to use "what do you mean by that," these rats wouldn't understand! Even if you really opened the box to "fight," were you going to fight or argue with a bunch of rats?
"What are your thoughts on this scene?" You had no choice but to turn to Xiao Lu and ask.
Xiao Lu was already panting heavily and could barely speak, but he still subconsciously replied, "Idea... parkour... isn't this just a real-life version of Subway Surfers?"
That makes sense.
"Are there any rules to parkour games?" you pressed on. "All I know is to keep running and running."
"There aren't really any rules... it's just about running, running until you get caught, or dying before you can react in time." Xiao Lu's voice was intermittent, as if it were about to break at any moment.
Your heart sank. Yes, these games are endless; it ends whenever you die. But if there's no solution to the game, how can you escape in real life?
Impossible, there must be some way...
But then you suddenly realize that such extremely low-probability events as underground collapses and subway collapses may be different from ordinary scenarios.
What if... what if it really is unsolvable?
"Sister, I really... I'm a little... I can't run anymore..." Xiao Lu finally said this, and her steps began to falter again.
You turn around and look at her.
She was still carrying Xiao Wu's body on her back. Her body was covered in sweat, so much so that it dissolved Xiao Wu's blood, staining her body a light red.
Xiao Lu was almost dehydrated and on the verge of collapse!
As you run, are you struggling with whether to persuade her to give up? You can't think of a single argument to convince someone to leave their companion's body behind, especially since you've already chosen to help her once.
This time, you didn't even hesitate; you immediately slowed down and took her hand again.
"Sister, sister, thank you..." Xiao Lu choked up, her eyes filled with tears.
"Stop talking, save your energy." You dragged her along while using all your strength to continue forward.
As you run, you really feel like your lungs are about to explode, and the sounds around you are getting louder and louder. You can hardly tell if it's the sound of rats or a warning that your own body is about to break down!
“Once upon a time, there were two girls, one named Xiao Wu and the other named Xiao Lu…” Xiao Lu suddenly spoke, her voice weak but firm.
"Don't give your last words!" you yelled.
“It wasn’t her last words!” she gasped as she continued, “They met in elementary school. The school organized a milk subscription program, and Xiao Lu was the only one who didn’t subscribe. During the break when the milk was distributed, she would pretend not to care and do her homework. Nobody noticed, but the next day, Xiao Wu brought Xiao Lu a carton of milk, shared it with her, and then told her, ‘My mom hopes I grow tall and play basketball, but I really can’t finish it all.’... Actually, Xiao Lu later found out that she bought her milk with her allowance, not because her mother forced her to.”
As you listen to her story, your attention is diverted, and running doesn't seem so unbearable anymore.
"Another time, some boys in the class made fun of Lu's thick legs, and Lu sat in the toilet crying all afternoon. So Wu cut a hole in one of the boys' pants. These two good friends were punished by being made to clean the playground. Lu felt guilty, thinking he was a burden to Wu, but Wu just said nonchalantly, 'Let's clean it up, it'll be good to skip track and field class today. As for the punishment, don't worry about it, the college entrance exam results aren't decided by the school.'"
"Sis," Xiao Lu suddenly stopped her story and turned to you, "Did you notice? Or is it just my imagination? Aren't these mice running a little slower?"
When you shine your flashlight behind you, you are surprised to find that the rats, who were originally biting each other tightly, have now been left far behind.
Not only that, but that point of light in front of us... you could say it actually got much bigger, as if it were responding to something.
Moreover, this time the change is much faster than the last one!
"Sister, I guessed right!" Xiao Lu was very happy. "I just noticed that whenever the two of us talk, it seems like the mice run a little slower, and we seem to get closer to the exit."
“I really enjoy watching short videos with parkour backgrounds and audio clips of various novels… You just asked what comes to mind when you think of parkour, and this is really all I can think of! I don’t know the underlying logic, but it just looks useful!” Xiao Lu said.
"It's okay, as long as you try everything you can think of, don't worry too much, just do it, and it will really work." You think the new student's brain is indeed very sharp, and you immediately think of how parkour games, which have long been unpopular both domestically and internationally, have been revived by this kind of tweet.
You two exchanged a glance, tacitly understanding each other's thoughts, and neither of you stopped talking. So Xiao Lu continued speaking.
She recounted in the third person how she and Xiao Wu skipped classes together in junior high and were caught by their homeroom teacher, how they had their first night training session as sports students, how they spent the first night playing games in an internet cafe, and how they went to the beach to see the stars after the first year of high school training... One after another, these were the little things that happened to teenage girls, so ordinary that they couldn't be more ordinary, yet so real that they felt like memories you once had too.
The swarm of mice seemed to have fallen into a state of "listening to a story," their footsteps slowing down further, and you could even hear their breathing becoming intermittent.
"Sister, I'm done talking..." Xiao Lu grabbed Xiao Wu's drooping hand and looked at you expectantly.
So you start telling your own story.
You said that once upon a time, there was a corporate slave who drank himself into oblivion and woke up in a strange country. He met a girl named Xiaoming, who generously shared the rules and a delicious meal with him.
The office worker and Xiaoming's connection wasn't limited to this one time. Later, the office worker, along with her and other girls they met and got to know in the game, witnessed the collapse and reconstruction of one "rule" after another.
As you spoke, your footsteps were no longer the focus. Xiao Lu listened intently, her eyes shining—she thought she could learn a lot from this experience.
Without you even realizing it, you've gone from "running" to "walking," or even taking a stroll. The mice behind you seem to have fallen completely asleep, leaving only rustling echoes, no longer threatening you.
The light spot is getting closer and closer.
It's still not the rescue team or the ground you're expecting, but you can clearly see a broken metal door.
The endless parkour is over, you know, now it's time for the final boss battle.
Xiao Lu bravely went in first.
You went in after that.
This is a giant, enclosed carriage—about four or five times the size of a regular carriage—and it is remarkably clean.
It wasn't the pristine cleanliness of a brand-new product, but rather a forced "disinfection" cleaning:
Against the backdrop of worn-out, ordinary train carriages, the floor gleams with an odd sheen, and the pungent smell and damp stains tell you it's been freshly sprayed with disinfectant alcohol. Subway advertising screens scroll the slogan, "Keep clean, build a civilized society." A row of posters featuring the American flag and smiling faces adorn the walls, with the words:
"Welcome home. Please ride the bus politely."
"The stench is everywhere, and the cleaning never stops."
There was even an opened but unused bottle of disinfectant tucked between the seats. You walked over and picked it up, and you saw a blurry label on the bottle: "Liquid No. 6: For Homeless Disposal".
You don't like places with too many homeless people either, but the meaning behind those words sends a chill down your spine.
"Sister." Xiao Lu gently patted your shoulder, his voice weak.
You didn't say anything. Because you've already seen it, there's something standing in the middle of the carriage.
He was wearing a faded blue work uniform with "Los Angeles Metro Maintenance Worker" embroidered on his left chest, and a worn-out janitor's hat, but his face was completely obscured.
It was dark and greasy, like a corpse tightly wrapped in plastic sheeting, blurry and stiff.
His right hand held a thick mop, the end of which dripped an unknown liquid that corroded the floor, leaving charred marks.
Beside his feet, a garbage bag was slowly wriggling, its opening bulging as if something had just been stuffed inside.
"That's...a person?" Xiao Lu's voice tightened.
The next second, the "cleaner" tilted his head slightly, and a synthesized electronic voice came from the radio on his chest: "Anomaly detected. Cleaning mode activated."
"Please do not panic and cooperate with the cleaning process. The foreign object will be removed to maintain a safe riding environment."
You swallowed hard and took a step back.
The cleaner moved.
The scene before your eyes seemed to flash a few times, and then the cleaner instantly teleported from the end of the carriage to five steps away in front of you!
You and Xiao Lu dodged almost at the same time—the "cleaner" swung the mop, and the liquid from the mop splashed onto the ground, making a "sizzling" sound, and corroded and collapsed a section of the floor.
But he was alone and had no other weapons, so he could only take on one person at a time! So you instructed Xiao Lu, "Let's split up...you..." Your gaze fell on his bag of trash, "Go and see what's in his bag!"
"Leave it to me!" Xiao Lu said, darting to the side.
"Hey!" you yell at the cleaner, "There's still blood on the ground here, has it been cleaned up?"
The cleaner paused, his head slowly turning towards you, as if some deep-seated program had been awakened. He picked up the mop, his movements mechanical yet nimble, and strode towards you, dragging the half-bucket of black water.
You turn and run, intending to slip away from him, but when you look down you see several blood-stained syringes and broken alcohol wipes—ah, you've found some "good stuff"!
You wrapped your fingers in your clothes, picked up the syringe, and waved it at the cleaner: "There's something dirty here. Did you use it secretly?"
He can understand human speech! Because he was clearly provoked by you, he instantly reeked of a mixture of hospital cleaning agents and street ditch stench.
As you back away while maneuvering against him, you suddenly step onto a loose metal seat, flip over, and leap onto the roof beam.
With a flick of his mop, the broken pipe snapped instantly, water splashed everywhere, and you tumbled to the ground, your shoulder slamming hard against the edge of a metal plate, burning with pain.
You glanced at Xiao Lu; thankfully, she had already approached his trash bag.
The bag wasn't ordinary plastic, but a heavy canvas zippered bag. She crouched down, holding her breath, and pulled open a corner—
Inside was a pile of rotting body parts stuffed into a vacuum-sealed bag.
She suppressed her nausea and continued flipping through the pages.
This is the head of an Asian boy wearing a Los Angeles City University hoodie—I would call him Asian based on some kind of gut feeling from seeing too much of him—with smudged eyeliner on his face; a blue eye; and a spine with a thick gold chain hanging from it.
There are all kinds of people there, or rather, they are all ordinary citizens you might encounter on the subway.
Xiao Lu quickly learned something from your story: be bold in making assumptions.
“They’re all Americans!” Her voice trembled slightly. “I’m not sure—but…anyway, he only deals with ‘local American garbage’!”
You were jolted awake, and almost instantly understood.
"Pests in the subway... are bad for the city's appearance..." Xiao Lu caught his attention, and as he spoke, he turned to attack Xiao Lu.
You immediately sensed a certain vague tendency in his words, and a bold idea popped into your head.
While people who watch a lot of American movies and social media can easily distinguish between different Americans, they themselves may not be able to tell whether someone is a native immigrant, a tourist, or a student.
To put it bluntly, this male cleaner was mindless and killed indiscriminately.
His job is to clean the subway, and truly clean and tidy public spaces do not need losers in society for the order he upholds.
You and Xiao Lu were covered in blood, looking probably quite deranged. After running around for so long, you were practically disheveled, dragging a corpse along with you—you were practically the most "desertable" foreign objects in the carriage.
You're not sure if the theory is right, but you have no other choice.
You suddenly burst out from the pile of half-collapsed chairs, shouting: "STOP! I'm a foreigner!"
The cleaner paused for a moment.
As you back away, you pull your blood-soaked backpack to your chest and pull out the file that you had carefully protected in a plastic folder.
"I am an F1 visa holder! I am studying in Los Angeles! We are legally staying foreigners and do not need to be deported!"
You raise your hands high and frantically wave the papers in front of him:
A photocopy of your passport, I-20 form, and a photocopy of your admission notice. Xiao Lu doesn't have these, but since she's with you, the cleaning lady treats you both as one.
You and Xiao Lu shout together: "We don't belong here!"
A slight stuttering sound came from the broadcasting system.
The cleaner slowly stopped, the mop ends dripping with liquid ceasing to sway. His head slowly tilted to the left, as if "identifying" something.
You continue shouting, "I'm only here temporarily! I don't intend to settle down! I'm a visitor! A visitor!"
The next second, a mechanical voice came from the broadcast: "Identity verification in progress... System determination: Not a local permanent resident."
"The alien designation is in effect. The 'Foreigner Deportation Clause' will be enforced."
how so?
Does that mean foreigners aren't allowed either?
Suddenly, a soft "click" came from the iron walls on both sides of the carriage, and a sliding rail hung down from the ceiling.
You were taken aback.
The next second, the ground began to shake, and the subway tracks beneath your feet automatically split into an inclined track, slowly "pushing" you and Xiao Lu out of the carriage.
"Sister, where are we being sent?" Xiao Lu asked in a panic. "Didn't you say that Liu Zi couldn't lose her Liu Zi identity?"
You still don't know!
But you can only feign composure: "It's okay, that's just how it is... It's okay, there's no reason why a crappy subway system should erase our legitimate and compliant status just because of their xenophobic system..."
As you spoke, you began to feel that your argument was reasonable, and you became even more self-righteous.
"Don't worry, just wait. We'll definitely get through soon," you said.
Before the words were even finished, you were pushed out of the carriage like cargo by the "sliding rails"!
The cleaner stopped behind me, and the loudspeaker announced the final words: "Thank you for your cooperation. Have a pleasant ride next time."
You rolled into a ventilation shaft paved with gravel, broke through a crack, and finally rolled into the light of the dungeon world outside the scene.
"Sister, you're so amazing!" Xiao Lu shook your arm.
Only you know that you're actually a little guilty.
A pair of hands reached out, and then you heard a surprised voice: "There are survivors here!"
They are real rescue workers.
First the firefighters, then the doctors.
You were lifted onto stretchers and brought to the ground.
As soon as he appeared, he was surrounded by reporters, with microphones, flashes, and cameras almost touching his face.
"How did you survive? Do you believe in God?"
Did the train really plunge into the subsided strata?
"Do you think this is a terrorist attack? Have you seen any suspicious persons? What is their ethnicity?"
"Please make way!" a helmeted firefighter shouted, pushing through the crowd as she carefully helped you into the ambulance. "Let the injured get in first! Stop taking pictures!"
The ambulance door slammed shut, instantly shutting out the noise outside.
"Sister, it seems everyone in the world enjoys watching mindless videos while listening to stories... Speaking of which, your story is so captivating, it's just like a novel..."
You hear Xiao Lu muttering to you, but you're thinking, "A novel?", and then your eyes roll back and you faint.
When you wake up again, you are in a VIP ward of a private hospital.
Before you could even process your thoughts, the door was pushed open.
Anbo and her colleague walked in, carrying a bag of apples and a fruit knife. She stared at you for a few seconds, a half-serious, half-fake smile playing on her lips.
"How come disasters happen wherever you go?"
You shrug and laugh helplessly: "How can you blame me? Maybe you should pay attention to your own government's infrastructure problems."
She laughed, walked to the bedside and sat down, peeling an apple while shaking her head: "If you need to go out next time, just give me a call, and I'll bring it to you."
"Really? That's great!" You sit up with a smile, snatch the apple from her when she's not looking, and half-jokingly stuff the peeled piece into her mouth.
"Ugh... Don't push your luck!" she mumbled with an apple in her mouth, but her face showed a hint of undisguised concern and relief.
After that, you stayed in the hospital obediently for almost half a month.
Doctors and nurses come to check on patients every day, police and paramedics take turns guarding the door, reporters shove telephoto lenses through the window cracks into the wards, and several TV stations even set up tents outside your hospital building to broadcast live 24 hours a day to see if you are "in good condition".
The impact of this subway accident was enormous.
After you were rescued, all sorts of rumors spread rapidly on social networks, from urban legends to urban conspiracies, and some people even analyzed the sneakers on your feet, saying that they were "feng shui shoes with the protagonist's destiny".
Lu, who was loyal and righteous, carried his companion on his back, needless to say. But you—a foreign student from the United States who appeared on the front line and escaped alone from the carriage with the lowest density of survivors—simply said in front of the camera, "We just kept going up," and quickly became a hot topic of urban legend, the "legendary long-distance running king."
Even the mainstream media in the country called you "a representative of the spirit of disaster relief in the new era".
So, these past few days you have seen:
Several groups of government officials from different departments came to offer their condolences and routinely coordinated with the embassy to protect your "freedom of speech." They presented you with smiles and letters of commendation, repeatedly emphasizing that you are "a heroine in our system who respects diverse backgrounds"; the special secretary of the local immigration department handled all the pending procedures for you: "Please rest assured and recover; we have upgraded your case to the highest priority."
And your family flew to the US immediately to be by your bedside, taking turns crying, scolding, giving instructions, and finally crying again.
—And Susan Allen, while cursing Los Angeles' infrastructure as a complete mess, is also staying by your side with your family.
Oh, their relationship with you was also discovered by the media, which greatly promoted the easing of diplomatic relations between the two countries and improved their international image in the eyes of each other's people.
And you, like a national landmark, are surrounded by four adults, a hospital ward security system, a large number of media and federal agents, under strict guard, unable to move.
But you know, the dungeon is almost over.
The Mi-Air app has appeared on your phone, and the ticket inside is the only way to leave this instance.
The question is: How did you escape from this lockdown that is being watched by the whole world?
After thinking it over and over, only one name popped into your mind—Anbo.
I sent a text message in the most aggrieved tone: "Can you take me for a drive? The hospital is driving me crazy." — Address
She replied quickly, as expected: "Want to go for a drive around the airport?"
You gritted your teeth and stubbornly said, "The tickets are already booked. Wouldn't it be a shame if I couldn't go? Please."
There was silence on the other end for a long time, and they didn't reply until the very last day.
You must prepare for the worst.
If she doesn't help you, you'll be left to fend for yourself—having experienced the mental hospital, these things are now a piece of cake for you.
You've carefully observed the shift schedules of the medical staff during rounds, figured out the times when your family members are most likely to go downstairs to buy coffee, and even rehearsed countless times in your mind how to climb out through the ventilation duct, find a way to avoid the lobby cameras, slip out of the hospital through the back door as soon as possible, and then disappear into the flow of taxis.
You were deep in thought on your hospital bed, your fingers tracing your imagined route on the sheets, when suddenly you heard a soft cough above you.
Look up.
The nurse stood by the bed, wearing a pink uniform with the hospital logo on her mask, but her eyes were smiling—she winked at you.
You almost jumped out of bed.
It's Anbo!
She didn't give you any direct answer; she just came. As if you already knew everything, you grabbed the hat, sunglasses, and wheelchair she handed you. Just ten minutes later, you were sitting in her car, speeding through the evening traffic of Los Angeles.
She parked her car in the temporary parking area next to the airport, turned to look at you, and said, "I helped you. Shouldn't you tell me why you insisted on coming?"
You looked at her, remained silent for a few seconds, and finally said, "Then I'd like to ask you a question too. Aren't you the agent monitoring me? Why have you repeatedly shown me... kindness that goes beyond the bounds?"
She still didn't answer you right away.
She stared blankly at the terminal entrance, her expression momentarily dazed, before finally speaking with difficulty: "I feel... there's something about you... beyond our comprehension. I've met people like you; you... always seem to trigger some special phenomena..."
Her words came to an abrupt end.
You see her facial muscles twitch, and you have a bad feeling, but the next second she just returns to her usual sunny demeanor, gently waving her hand: "Then you go through security, I have to go."
She didn't look at you again, and turned away without turning her head.
You stood there, stunned, but your heart was in turmoil.
What she just said... what did this local notice?! Then, some will forcibly cut off his thoughts.
You frowned as you dragged your suitcase through security.
As you board the plane, the roar of engines fills your ears, and the sunset over Los Angeles stretches out the window. But as you close your eyes, your mind is filled with thoughts about the situation in Ambo.
The plane roared into the sky, and you, lost in your own thoughts, slowly drifted off to sleep. The next journey had quietly begun.
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Author's Note: Next dungeon! Let's go! (Hehe, I want to write something really scary, wish me luck! ^ ^)
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