Chapter 117
As soon as the little boy finished shouting, a man rushed over from the front carriage, cursing: "What are you shouting for? Why are you still acting like a child? It's rest time now. Even if you don't want to sleep, you have to consider the rights of others! You..."
He just rushed to this carriage and saw four people. An expression of disbelief and surprise appeared on his face: "Ah, you guys..."
The little boy kicked the ball away: "I found it first. I want to ask questions before others."
The man ignored him and showed an extremely surprised expression after a while. He was so excited that he almost knelt down on the spot and said devoutly: "Thank God! Finally, finally... Are you... Are you a rescue team?"
The three shook their heads.
"So are you God's messengers? Investigators from a mysterious organization? Agents? Police?"
The options the man proposed were more bizarre than the last.
Lu Jiamu asked: "Do you need rescue?"
The man saw them shaking their heads and his expression began to become less pious.
"Yes. This car can't stop. We have been trapped for a long time." He asked, "Then who are you? Where did you get on the car? Is there any way to get off?"
"We suddenly appeared here. Before we appeared here, we didn't even know we would be on a train, so we didn't know how to get off."
"So you didn't try to get on this train? You didn't know what was going on?" the man asked again, "What's the world like outside now? What year is it?"
Lu Jiamu decided to tell the truth: "I don't know. We were trapped somewhere else before."
"for how long?"
"About a month."
Seeing that the three men knew nothing and could not get any useful information from the conversation, the man sighed in disappointment: "Maybe you came here just to get into a bigger predicament. Because we have been trapped here for 125 years, 3 months and 4 days."
He glanced at these people again and saw that their clothes were similar to his own, with no obvious sense of age difference. He began to think about what Lu Jiamu said about being trapped for a month.
Lu Jiamu was a little amazed at his accurate timekeeping, and said tactfully: "You don't look that old."
"How old are you this year?" Seeing that he was doubting the truth of what the man said, the little boy interrupted unconvincedly, "I am 130 years old this year. You may not even be old enough to be my grandson!"
The man scolded the boy: "Don't talk to others like that."
Lu Jiamu was not angry, but nodded in agreement: "It's indeed not enough. No offense, I just didn't expect that you look so young, but in fact you are already an antique."
“You are…”
The man held the boy back, stopping him from arguing and bickering. “I’m sorry. It’s just that since we started the loop line, there haven’t been any new passengers on this train. I was a little excited to see you all of a sudden.”
He quickly regained his enthusiasm and chattered about the current situation to them: "The reason why we still look young is that this train is in a very strange state and keeps restarting. We all boarded this train one day 125 years ago, but some unknown situation suddenly occurred during the journey, causing the train to suddenly start running in a loop and could not stop at all."
"And after each rotation, the interior of the car will restart once, and the people and objects in the car will return to the state before entering the cycle. It will repeat over and over again, just like a perpetual motion machine. We are always in the original state, but it has indeed experienced such a long time."
He pointed to the hanging watch and the messy scratches on the carriage: "The iron sheet of the carriage will not restart. The train takes 24 hours to make a circle, which is exactly one day. After discovering this pattern, I began to use my finger to record the number of days that have passed. Every ten days, I would draw a line on this wall to accurately time the time, so that we would not fall into despair, and people would not quarrel because of inaccurate memories."
After the man finished speaking, he looked at Yu Leng who was still bleeding: "Is he dead?"
Coleman shook his head: "Not yet."
"Then he's miserable. He might have to live like this for the rest of his life." The man said with sympathy, "The state you're in when you get on the car determines what kind of life you'll have in the future. If he dies within a day, he'll be resurrected after the restart. If he recovers within a day, he'll be back to his current state after the restart."
"The only good thing is that you won't lose him either."
It is indeed tragic. I am seriously injured and on the verge of death every day.
Several people had gathered by the door leading to the next carriage, looking at them curiously.
"Let me introduce myself first. Hello, you can call me Bishop. I am the leader of these carriages." The man saluted politely and exaggeratedly. "I usually teach everyone how to carry out daily entertainment activities scientifically and efficiently."
Coleman hesitated and asked, "So you are not a clergyman?"
The bishop shook his head. "It just means the main teacher. I am the most interesting person here and can teach others many more interesting things. Calling me like this is interesting and makes people feel more ritualistic and powerful. However, we also organize activities such as prayers regularly."
He walked to the end of the carriage and pointed to the pile of miscellaneous items. "We have the best entertainment here! We collect entertainment facilities and share resources. Snacks are available every day."
He dug out a few window-breaking hammers from the pile of junk: "The windows of the train cannot be smashed. If you feel too stressed, you can break the windows to relieve stress. But it takes a day to repair a broken hammer, so the quantity is limited."
Seeing that he was just a show-off, seemed very warm and friendly, and did not seem to have any hostility, Coleman put Yu Leng on the ground.
Seeing that blood was still flowing out of the other person's mouth and nose and he was choking, Coleman began to pat his back to help him calm down.
But I don’t know if it was because he used too much force or because Yu Leng’s physique had weakened, but his ribs broke while he was tapping them.
Coleman was stunned.
The bishop seemed to be accustomed to such scenes and was not afraid. He said, "Wow!" and said, "If he dies, don't throw the body away - but you have nowhere to throw it. He will be alive tomorrow."
Lu Jiamu asked: "Why are you trapped here?"
The bishop smiled bitterly: "We have many hypotheses about this, but due to limited conditions, we cannot prove any of them. Maybe something unexpected happened and we are trapped in our own world of consciousness, where time has been slowed down. Otherwise, how can anyone live so long?"
He added: "In order to help everyone have a better attitude, we stipulate that from 10 pm to 7 am the next day is rest time. No noise is allowed and only quiet entertainment activities can be carried out. Do you need to rest?"
Lu Jiamu nodded: "It is very necessary."
The bishop asked a few simple questions and then put down the hammer: "Then you can rest here first. After the break, I will give you a more detailed introduction to the situation here. Good night."
The people squeezed at the junction of the carriages were unhappy. They obviously didn't want to continue resting and just wanted to find out what was going on here as soon as possible.
One of them asked excitedly: "Where on earth are you from? Are you here to rescue us?"
After this person started talking, the others immediately followed suit and started talking at once: "What on earth is going on here?"
"What's it like out there now? What year is it?"
The bishop replied: "I just asked them, they are just innocent people who were dragged into this place. They don't know the situation outside."
But the others still refused to give up. Each of them was in a state of being the center of attention. It seemed that even if the three of them didn't know any valuable information, they had to come in and chat with them.
As the bishop walked over, he began to wave people away: "It's still break time."
"But we don't want to rest now."
The people outside immediately became excited: "Yes, we don't want to rest! Everyone is up!"
“Tell us your story!”
The news of the new passenger's visit had probably spread, and the whole carriage was filled with chatter.
Some people were greeting them warmly, while others were pestering them to tell them about the situation.
"It's time to rest now." The bishop did not change his mind. "Rules are rules. Once a rule is broken, we will have nothing. Besides, isn't it the most pleasant thing to keep the surprise and not open it all at once, but to think about it slowly?"
Then he chased them away like he was shooing away children: "Good night."
Watching them being sent back to their seats noisily, Coleman frowned slightly: "What happened this time? Why is there no hint at all? Can we still go back?"
Lu Jiamu didn't quite understand it either. After thinking for a while, he said, "I don't know. But according to the tasks issued before, it either requires us to survive here for a certain number of days, or to fulfill someone's wish, or just to find out the situation here."
He pointed in the direction of the other carriages: "These people are trapped, they must want to escape."
Coleman nodded: "Maybe they are all dead, maybe they are all ghosts. But the best way now is for us to stay here for a while, have a good rest, and see if it will come to pick us up after a certain number of days. If not, then we can deal with this train."
"They may seem friendly now, but be careful. They may not always be friendly."
After a brief exchange, the three people reached a consensus.
At this time, Yu Leng's face had turned blue due to excessive blood loss, his body temperature dropped rapidly, and he looked like he was on the verge of death.
He died more than an hour later.
However, because the bishop had said before that the people and objects in the car were constantly restarting and the dead would come back to life, the three people were not too sad about Yu Leng's death and just put his body aside.
Lu Jiamu wanted to go to other carriages to see if there was any other information, but was stopped by the bishop.
The other party whispered to him tactfully that there were actually many passengers on this train, and when faced with this unsolvable cycle, they had already split into several small groups according to their different ideas. Not every group was friendly and hospitable.
Lu Jiamu walked back and sat next to Yu Leng's body. He opened the death diary that he had not had time to read carefully before and read it from beginning to end.
The texts scattered among a large area of ghost paintings mainly describe speculations about the twelve worlds and clock faces.
He looked at the words and fell into thought.
Coleman knew that Lu Jiamu had a notebook that he read every day, and he also knew that it contained some messy scribbles.
But this time, standing next to her, she vaguely saw Chinese characters appearing among the pages of scribbles.
Considering that they had always gotten along well and had a harmonious relationship, she did not hide her curiosity and asked directly, "What is this?"
Lu Jiamu came back to his senses: "My friend's diary."
"Left it for you?"
Lu Jiamu nodded: "Yes."
Coleman didn't understand the situation and didn't understand why he was holding someone else's diary, but when he first heard that it was a diary, he thought he was missing his friend, so his heart softened and he said a few words of comfort.
Lu Jiamu continued to read while listening to her gossip. After a while, a new sentence began to appear in the diary: [Give you a suggestion.]
Lu Jiamu asked: [What suggestions?]
[If you are going to die one day, don’t write a diary before you die. Otherwise, if you become a ghost, you will have to watch others reading your diary with your own eyes, and there may be more than one person reading it.]
Lu Jiamu immediately thought of how the diary seemed unable to detect the things he had written during his lifetime. How much of it had been blocked out and turned into scribbles, and how much had been restored into text.
It must have guessed that part of itself could be understood, but it didn't know how much that part was. Now that he was looking at it so carefully, it thought that there was a lot that could be understood.
Thinking about Fang Gu's words before his death when he reminisced about the past and talked about their friendship, Lu Jiamu guessed that perhaps in those large pieces of ghost paintings, there were many affectionate and lyrical words, written with true feelings.
After the huge change in mood, only embarrassment remained, but it could not be avoided.
[It is indeed very socially dead.] Lu Jiamu touched his chin and commented, [Who among the serious people writes a diary? Do you write a diary?]
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