“Alright, grooms, look at the camera!”
“Three, two, one—”
“Happy wedding!”
This was the end of the world. A train stood before a tunnel, every door and window flung wide. Flowers were so abundant they seemed to vomit from the carriages in a riot of color, accompanied by the sudden explosion of confetti cannons. “Zhao Meiyou! Qian-ge!” A crowd pressed together, laughing and cheering as they raised their glasses. “Give us a hug! Give us a kiss!”
“Zhao Meiyou, you brat, don’t tell me you can’t handle this!” someone bellowed at the top of their lungs. “Get in there and kiss him already!”
This was a wedding the group had anticipated for a very long time. After countless hardships, joys, and sorrows, they had finally reached a perfect conclusion. Every member of the squad had chipped in, using their hard-earned points to exchange for supplies they would usually never dream of touching: champagne, roses, cream, and high-end fabrics. Now that all the stages were cleared, they could finally afford to be extravagant. Someone had even suggested requisitioning a gunship from the armory, adding hot air balloons and rock music to let the pair get married in the sky.
However, that proposal was ultimately vetoed by one of the grooms. “Zhao Meiyou gets motion sickness,” Qian Duoduo said. “The last time we came out of that Roller Coaster Hotel dungeon, he spent half a month bedridden from vomiting.”
“Is that so?” The proposer looked a bit disappointed. “I was hoping I could pilot the ship for you two.”
“Do you even have a flight license?”
“I’ve never actually been officially employed.” The man scratched his head, a nostalgic smile playing on his lips. “Back at university, I studied transportation. I planned to fly aero-buses after graduation, but I tripped on the stairs right before the ceremony. When I woke up, I was here.”
Zhao Meiyou, overhearing the conversation, leaned over. “You got here by falling? Then we’re kind of similar.”
“Zhao-ge, how did you get here?”
“I went out to buy some McDonald’s fried chicken and got hit by a car in mid-air,” Zhao Meiyou said. “When I woke up, I was in the Ruins.”
They were in a world known as “The Ruins.” Its laws of operation were entirely different from those of the Metropolis. There was no cohesive social system here; instead, it functioned like a madman’s amusement park. Those who entered the Ruins had to constantly clear stages, completing one dungeon after another to earn points. Once their points reached the final threshold, players would be transported to the end of the world. It was said that a tunnel existed there, and by passing through it, one could return to the original world.
Zhao Meiyou had entered the Ruins three years ago. He had adapted quickly, rising from a novice to a top-tier player in less than six months, even pulling together his own ragtag crew. On nights when no mission briefs were issued, the group loved to hold pajama parties. Through their conversations, they discovered they all hailed from the Metropolis, having “entered” the Ruins for all sorts of bizarre reasons. The most ridiculous case was a girl who got in because of a dumpster—she had stuck her head into a trash bin, and when she pulled it out, something felt wrong. “I was originally scavenging in the plaza, but when I came out, I found myself standing in the hallway of a library.”
“You’re talking about the ‘Playwright’ dungeon, right?” Someone had heard of it. “Meeting that dungeon as a novice is actually quite lucky. As long as you don’t pick a detective novel or a horror story, people rarely die.”
“I’m the one who almost died.” The girl rolled her eyes. “I pulled *The Shining*.”
The surrounding crowd gasped. “How did you get out?”
The rules of the Playwright dungeon were peculiar. Players began in a massive library. Once you pulled a book from the shelf and opened it to read, the world around you would transform into the setting described in the book. The player then had to find a library within that new world and open another book to enter the next scene, continuing until the dungeon determined that the player’s journey constituted a complete story. Only then could they clear the stage.
Upon completion, players would return to the original library, where they would find a new book on the shelf—one that chronicled everything they had just experienced.
Lucky players might experience grand adventures, but there were always the unfortunate ones. If you didn't know the rules and your first pick was a ghost story or a true crime record, you were likely walking into a dead end. “I’d never seen *The Shining*, and at first, I was scared witless by those twin ghosts,” the girl sighed. “But after hiding for a few days, I ran into Zhao Meiyou.”
“The White Queen’s favorite book being *The Shining*? Give me a break,” Zhao Meiyou chimed in, complaining. “What kind of ridiculous, illiterate setting was that?”
The story of *The Shining* took place in a hotel isolated by heavy snow. Zhao Meiyou and the girl had spent days dodging death, unable to find a library within the hotel. Finally, the two of them decided to just go for broke. If the conditions didn't exist, they would create them. They piled every book they could find into a single room, manually manufacturing a library.
But perhaps because there weren't enough books, the dungeon refused to recognize it.
“So how did you finally get out?”
“The library didn't count because it was missing one crucial book,” the girl said.
“What book?”
“In the script of *The Shining*, the husband is a frustrated writer who came to the haunted hotel specifically to write his new work,” Zhao Meiyou explained. “But in the original story, the husband never actually finishes the book.”
“Zhao Meiyou and I realized that the missing piece was likely that unwritten book,” the girl added. “Even though that husband was a total psycho who kept chasing us through the halls with an axe, we gritted our teeth and went for him. Once we pinned him down, we gave him a hell of a beating.”
“After the beating, we locked him in a room to write. If he couldn't write, we beat him again. In less than a week, we had a finished manuscript.” She shrugged. “There’s no problem a good thrashing can’t solve.”
Zhao Meiyou nodded in agreement. “And if there is, you just thrash them twice.”
The crowd: “...”
Different dungeons required different qualities from players. Some needed physical common sense, some required advanced mathematical calculations, and others required players to use their imagination to perform the most absurd maneuvers possible. “Take the dungeon where I met Qian-ge, for example,” Zhao Meiyou said, taking his turn to speak. “I met him in the ‘Horror Cinema’ dungeon...”
“Alright, alright, I don’t want to hear it! I don’t want to hear it!” The squad members scattered in all directions, covering their ears. “Zhao Meiyou, you’ve told this story eight hundred times! Don’t you know that flaunting your love gives people cavities?!”
“Huh?” Zhao Meiyou realized belatedly, looking at the man beside him. “Qian-ge, have I really told it that many times?”
“Not eight hundred,” Qian Duoduo said, sitting beside him and looking up. “Only four hundred and sixty-seven.”
“Great!” Zhao Meiyou slapped his thigh gleefully. “Then let me tell it for the four hundred and sixty-eighth time!”
And so, amidst the wails and howls of his teammates, Zhao Meiyou began his four hundred and sixty-eighth narration of his pulp-fiction-esque romance. He had been watching a horror movie in the cinema dungeon when, halfway through, the bride suddenly turned into a ghost and came crawling out of the screen, claws bared. He had been overconfident and hadn't brought a weapon, and it looked like he was about to suffer a humiliating defeat—
He had told it so many times that the squad members could recite it by heart. Someone immediately covered Zhao Meiyou’s mouth and began to recount it in a mocking tone: “And then you were face-to-face! You shuddered, thinking to yourself, *Hey, this ghost isn't half bad-looking!*”
Someone else immediately picked up the thread. “*To die under a peony is to be a romantic ghost! I, the great Zhao Meiyou, have been single in the Ruins for so long—if I’m going to die, I might as well get a kiss in first!* So, hardening his heart, he lifted the ghost’s veil and went right for the lips!”
Then the crowd joined in: “And then the ghost was stunned stupid!”
“Turns out it was all a misunderstanding! The ghost was actually another player who had entered the dungeon! It was awkward as hell, but to stay alive, they formed a temporary alliance! Two hearts beating as one, a kiss to double the chemistry! From then on, Player Zhao Meiyou and Player Qian Duoduo hacked and slashed their way through, clearing the hardest Horror Cinema dungeon together! The first thing Zhao Meiyou did when they got out was drop to one knee and say, *Qian-ge, look, we’re already so in sync, wouldn't it be harmless to be a little more in sync? Why don't you be my wife?*”
Finally, everyone shouted in unison: “And so, they lived a shameless and notorious life of domestic bliss that became famous throughout the Ruins—Alright, finished! Meeting adjourned! Go back to sleep!”
The crowd vanished in an instant, as if staying a second longer would leave them pickled in the sour stench of the couple’s romance. Zhao Meiyou didn't know whether to laugh or cry at his teammates’ antics. He turned to Qian Duoduo. “Qian-ge, was I really that exaggerated when I told it?”
Qian Duoduo thought for a moment. “Your version is a bit more... vivid.”
“...Their mouths were practically flying off their faces. If I was more vivid than that, what would I even look like?”
Qian Duoduo gave him a kiss. “Like this.”
Fine, if things were going to fly, let them fly onto Qian-ge’s face. Zhao Meiyou immediately felt at peace and began to indulge in other whims. “Qian-ge, when you crawled out of the screen back then, where did that wedding dress come from?”
“It was a prop I prepared beforehand. Since I had to pose as the bride to interfere with the movie plot, props were important.” Qian Duoduo understood. “Do you like that dress?”
“Heh heh.” Zhao Meiyou scratched his cheek.
He paused, then added, “Qian-ge, once we’ve saved up enough points, let’s get married at the end of the world.”
Rumor had it that the end of the world was the exit from the Ruins. It was a place with an endless coastline, a train by the shore, and a tunnel. Walking into that tunnel would take you back to the original world. The Ruins were not inescapable; it was said that many players had successfully left. Some players who fell in love during their journey would hold grand weddings on the train. Some friendly NPCs in the Ruins who had formed bonds with players would also attend these weddings to witness, celebrate, and then say a final goodbye.
Zhao Meiyou had once met an NPC—or rather, an inhabitant of the Ruins—in an art gallery dungeon. It sat by a glass window, perpetually working on a painting. The painting depicted a person’s back; it was said to be the inhabitant's lover, who had left for the original world after reaching the final point threshold.
The inhabitant hadn't forced the other to stay. Instead, it spent the rest of its life building an art gallery. The building was safe, serving as a supply station for many squads. Very few players ever triggered a dungeon there. Eventually, they would discover that among the countless paintings in the gallery, not a single one was a duplicate—yet every distinct painting was actually painted over another identical portrait.
When Zhao Meiyou cleared that stage, he had scraped off the top layer of every painting. The spiral staircase was lined with canvases that seemed to stretch into the sky, with windows opening up along the path to heaven. Within every frame was the profile of an old friend.
The painter waited for him at the very top of the stairs, having finally finished that painting of the lover’s back. *That’s how she looked when she left,* the painter said, showing the work to Zhao Meiyou before falling into a long silence.
Finally, the painter said: *She didn't look back.*
Zhao Meiyou never became friends with the painter. *You are lucky to have fallen in love with someone from the same world,* the painter had told him at their parting. *I am sorry I cannot attend your wedding. To me, such beauty is too painful.*
Zhao Meiyou also felt he was lucky. A script that should have been a narrow escape had been turned into a grand slam. Now that the journey was ending, he had gained both friendship and love, and was holding a magnificent wedding at the end of the world. “Zhao Meiyou, you brat, don’t tell me you can’t handle this!” Even the most composed strategist of the team couldn't hide her excitement. “What are you standing there for? Get in there and kiss her already!”
Qian Duoduo stood beside Zhao Meiyou. Today, he really was wearing the same wedding dress from their first meeting. Zhao Meiyou thought about it, his grin nearly reaching his ears. He took the veil off Qian Duoduo’s head and, amidst the screams of the crowd, placed the white lace over his own head.
“Qian-ge,” he laughed from beneath the pure white fabric. “We’ve told the story so many times. How about a live version?”
Qian Duoduo understood perfectly. Just as he had during their first encounter, he grabbed Zhao Meiyou’s hand, pulled him close, lifted the veil, and crashed his lips against the other’s.
They didn't follow the wedding protocols of the Metropolis, skipping the tedious formalities. Instead, friends simply gathered to sing, dance, eat, and drink to their hearts’ content—and what could be more satisfying than that? They squandered their long-accumulated points and supplies at the end of the world, making every dream a reality. The most beautiful part of a story isn't the new life after the ending, but the ending itself. They were currently in the finale of a grand journey; every bottle of champagne was being popped, every flower was in full bloom, and every vision was still noble. The eldest member of the squad pulled out a book: “Will the couple please step forward for the vows!”
He didn't hold a Bible, but a book Zhao Meiyou and Qian Duoduo had agreed upon, one that had cost a significant amount of points to obtain.
It was *The Communist Manifesto*.
Zhao Meiyou finally broke away from his friends’ drunken toasts and led Qian Duoduo forward. They placed their hands together on the cover. The vows had long since been written:
*I shall love you while perpetually mired in carnal lust; I shall love you amidst the constant peril of favoring the new over the old. I shall use you, vent upon you, and squander you. There shall be a war between us, and I welcome you to avenge yourself upon me a thousandfold for every atrocity I inflict. Together, we shall indulge in instinct and break free from it; together, we shall embrace desire and conquer it; together, we shall be imprisoned by morality and transcend it, until selfishness and altruism coexist, public affairs become private, and collective interests become individual. Finally, we shall realize the smallest unit of communism: love, and family.*
The elder snapped the book shut. “The grooms may now kiss!”
Amidst deafening whistles and cheers, Zhao Meiyou kissed Qian Duoduo’s lips for the one thousand one hundredth time. The grooms kissed with such passion it seemed they would never stop until death. The squad members burst into song as they started the train—an ancient mode of transport long since obsolete in the Metropolis, now serving as the link between reality and dreams. The whistle shrieked, and the white veil was swept away by the rushing air, submerged into the tunnel along with countless flowers. Giant tulips bloomed in the darkness. A faint light glimmered in the distance, and some thought they heard a synthesized mechanical voice—the weather broadcast of the Metropolis. Home was within reach.
At the end of the tunnel, the dream began to disintegrate, turning into a frozen moment before the paint could set. Sunrise was coming; the night melted before their eyes. No one can eat the moon, but Zhao Meiyou had once kissed the night sky—that emerald, jade-like night. As the train hurtled forward, Zhao Meiyou wondered through his laughter: how would they return to the Metropolis? Everyone’s entry into the Ruins was different. Would they return to the exact spot they left? The central plaza, the dumpster, the mid-air space where a floating fast-food truck had struck him? Would this train suddenly burst out of the ground like a beetle? What about the repair costs? Had anyone bought Metropolis traffic accident insurance?
Then, he received his answer.
The butterfly fluttered out from the dream, only to be swallowed by the infinite darkness of reality.
“Target neutralized.”
“A28 Ruins exploration concluded. 1,100th cycle of the reincarnation experiment complete. Laboratory, prepare the cryogenic protocols. Recovery team in position. Archaeologists, stand down. Government observation group, stand down.”
“Citizens, welcome back to the Metropolis.”
***
