On June 4, 2024, the third high school in the old district of Yaocheng held its final break before the college entrance exams.
As one of only two exam centers in the old district, the third high school required its own students to bring all necessary materials and, after informing their parents, stay on campus during the exam period starting June 7. They could only leave after the exams concluded the following day.
This had been the school’s policy for years—students were required to stay on campus during the exams to save time and avoid unnecessary complications. The school provided all daily necessities, food, and water, which students could obtain for free using their school ID cards.
[Senior Tong, tomorrow’s June 7. Do you have any leads yet?]
[Ahhh, this is making me so nervous—more nervous than when I took the exams myself!]
[I’ve searched through so many news reports, but none give specific details about the terrorist attack. Forums say supernatural forces were involved, so the government completely sealed the case files.]
[Stay safe, Senior Tong… I’ll be glued to my computer these two days, tracking any news updates.]
[Take care, Senior Tong!]
After finishing her nightly routine, Tong Yang lay in bed, scrolling through messages in her gossip group chat.
For the past two days, she had asked her friends to dig up details about the terrorist attack. Unfortunately, aside from the list of victims, they found nothing useful. Now, she had no choice but to take things one step at a time.
The next morning at seven, Tong Yang arrived at school early with all her exam materials and stationery. After locating her assigned dormitory, she headed to the exam hall.
As expected, police officers stood guard every two meters around the school perimeter. No unauthorized personnel were allowed inside. Parents could only accompany their children to the gate before stopping, where police and supervising teachers verified identities and checked for prohibited items before permitting entry.
Inside the school, more officers patrolled the grounds. Each exam hall had a teacher stationed at the door to inspect students for contraband. No electronic devices—not even watches or pencil cases—were allowed. Bags and other belongings had to be left on racks outside the hall and could only be retrieved after leaving.
Tong Yang’s assigned exam hall was Room 1209, on the third floor of the south teaching building. The supervising teacher at the door conducted the usual check for prohibited items.
“Teacher Liu.” Tong Yang greeted him with a smile. Coincidentally, he had been one of her middle school teachers. She had always been a top student and got along well with all her teachers.
Teacher Liu looked like he hadn’t slept well the night before—his face and lips were deathly pale. He lifted his gaze to her, his eyes hollow, and said flatly, “Go in.”
Tong Yang paused. The middle-aged man’s skin was as white as paper, with faint dark circles under his eyes, as if he’d been seriously ill. But she didn’t dwell on it and entered the hall to find her seat.
Since the exam was held at her own school, she recognized a few familiar faces among the students coming and going—three or four in total.
“Tong Yang?” Chu Shiyu sat two rows ahead of her.
Tong Yang glanced at her but didn’t respond. Right now, Chu Shiyu wasn’t her “golden sponsor” yet.
“Senior Tong!”
Sun Ye, who had just entered the classroom, brightened at the sight of her and waved.
Hearing Sun Ye’s voice, Chu Shiyu’s face twisted as if she’d swallowed a fly. She turned back to her seat without another word.
Tong Yang ignored both of them, her expression growing increasingly grave as she scanned the classroom. A sense of foreboding crept up her spine.
The classroom had four columns of desks. The first three columns each had eight rows, while the column closest to the door had nine. Three times eight was twenty-four, plus nine—thirty-three seats in total, each assigned to one examinee.
Before Sun Ye’s fatal fall, the terrorist attack’s death toll had been thirty-two. After Tong Yang entered the time loop, Sun Ye’s name was added, making it thirty-three. The number of examinees in Room 1209 matched the death list exactly!
Tong Yang had reviewed the list countless times and could recall most of the victims’ faces. Now, looking at the young, oblivious students preparing for the exam—their faces so familiar—a chill crawled up her back.
Was the terrorist attack going to happen in this very classroom? Among these thirty-three people?
Sun Ye approached her, and seeing her grim expression, seemed to realize something. His face drained of color.
“It can’t be…?”
“Go back to your seat.”
Tong Yang cut him off before he could finish.
Sun Ye, wearing thick glasses, paled further and returned to his seat—the ninth one in the column by the window, the only extra seat in the room.
At 8:40, the bell rang over the loudspeaker. The school required students to be in their exam halls at least twenty minutes before the test began.
By the time the bell sounded, all thirty-three examinees in Room 1209 had arrived. Seven were from the host school, while the rest came from nearby institutions.
Perhaps due to nerves or the unfamiliar environment, the room was eerily quiet. Everyone sat at their desks, waiting silently for the life-changing exam—the gaokao—to begin.
Minutes passed. The once-noisy teaching building had fallen completely silent, not even the faintest footstep audible. The teacher who had been checking for prohibited items had vanished without a trace. Outside the door, the rusty metal rack holding bags and belongings creaked in the morning breeze, its surface splattered with rust stains like drops of blood.
Had the rack always been that rusty? Tong Yang hadn’t noticed before.
Peeling paint littered the corridor walls, and a murky puddle on the floor reflected the yellowed ceiling.
Tong Yang looked away, her gaze landing on the blackboard at the front. Scrawled across it in messy handwriting—had those words been there earlier?—was a stark message:
Violators will die.
“Where are the teachers?”
A timid voice broke the silence.
After the 8:40 bell, proctors should have entered the exam hall. But five minutes had passed, and not a single teacher was in sight—not just in the room, but anywhere nearby.
The clock above the blackboard ticked loudly. The thirty-three examinees exchanged uneasy glances as an inexplicable tension thickened the air.
“Does anyone else feel like… the classroom looks older?”
A girl near the wall spoke up hesitantly. Following her gaze, the others noticed the ceiling was now covered in black mold stains, as if the room had aged decades overnight.
“Why is it so quiet?”
“I remember the sun was out when we came in. Why can’t we see any sunlight now?”
The classroom buzzed with scattered murmurs. Tong Yang lowered her gaze, staring at the worn marks on the desk, her lips pressed tightly together.
"Silence!"
A cold, stern voice crackled through the speakers.
"Third High School, Examination Hall 1209, will now commence a two-day independent college entrance exam. During this period, all examinees must strictly adhere to the school’s regulations. Violators will face severe penalties, including permanent disqualification from future exams."
The surveillance cameras at the front and back of the classroom flickered with an eerie red glow, as if someone on the other end was watching them intently.
"The first exam, Chinese, will begin in ten minutes. All examinees must remain seated. The proctor will shortly explain the rules of this independent exam."
With a sharp beep, the broadcast cut off, plunging the room into silence—brief, before chaos erupted.
"What’s going on? What’s an 'independent exam'?"
"This is so weird! The school never mentioned anything about this!"
"Are they insane? What kind of joke is this?"
"I’m going to find a teacher. Anyone coming with me?"
"I—"
"Don’t leave your seats."
Amid the clamor, Tong Yang turned to the two students whispering in the back row. "Unless you want to die."
"Hey! Do you know something? What the hell is Third High playing at?"
"It’s the college entrance exam today! If this messes up our scores, can your school even take responsibility?"
"Ugh, this place is a dump. Moldy, broken-down classrooms—how did this school even become an exam site? Doesn’t it ruin the city’s image?"
Tong Yang traced the aged grooves on the desk, then lifted her eyes to the window. Calmly, she said, "Haven’t you noticed? The maple tree outside just withered."
The entire class whipped their heads toward the window.
The maple tree, usually thriving, now stood bare, its skeletal branches visible even from the third-floor classroom.
At the sight, the Third High students turned deathly pale. The outsiders, however, remained unfazed.
"So what?"
"I didn’t even notice. What’s the big deal? It’s just a tree losing leaves."
A girl by the window muttered, "Maple leaves should still be green in June. They don’t wither until winter, around November."
A local student, face ashen and eyes reddening, stammered, "When I left for breakfast this morning… it was fine…"
"Holy shit?!"
"No way… This can’t be real. What kind of sci-fi nonsense is this?"
"Cut the creepy act, will you?"
"Look at the blackboard—it says: 'Violators will die.'"
...
The classroom erupted into panic, the air turning icy.
Tong Yang clenched her jaw, cursing under her breath. She’d known the terror attack’s methods would be unusual, but she never imagined they’d all be dragged into a parallel world.
Unlike the others, she wasn’t clueless.
If they could enter this world, then the reverse was possible too. Remembering how the killers’ bodies vanished after death, Tong Yang finally understood why the terror attacks left no clues—only a death toll. The victims were killed here, and only their corpses returned to the real world.
Damn it. Even if she’d warned the police, it wouldn’t have mattered.
But what was happening outside right now?
She glanced at Sun Ye, seated in the last row by the door, and signaled for him to check the hallway.
Sun Ye sat rigid, his face ghostly pale. When their eyes met, two tears streaked down his cheeks. His lips moved soundlessly: Help me.
Tong Yang froze, then followed his gaze to the corridor’s ceiling.
A man hung upside down in midair, swaying with the wind, his form flickering in and out of visibility. His dry, bloodshot eyes were wide open, fixed unblinkingly on the classroom.
