Seeing that everyone had fallen silent, Chu Tianqiu turned to look at Old Lü and Little Glasses.
“What… what’s going on?” Old Lü felt uneasy. “I didn’t say anything just now.”
“Aren’t you two supposed to be guarding the gate? What if outsiders get in?” Chu Tianqiu deliberately emphasized the word “outsiders,” as if hinting at something.
As soon as he finished speaking, a figure clad in black leather appeared at the classroom door.
“Too late. The ‘outsider’ is already here,” Song Qi said.
“Oh…” Chu Tianqiu turned around with a forced smile. “If it isn’t Old Seven from the ‘Cat’ family?”
Song Qi said nothing. After entering, he scanned the room, but soon wore a puzzled expression.
Qi Xia had sent him to check on Chen Junan’s safety, but the scene before him was bizarre—there was a dead Chen Junan and an unharmed Chen Junan. The unharmed one was holding his own corpse, creating an indescribable strangeness.
Was this considered “fine” or “not fine”?
Meanwhile, Chu Tianqiu’s gaze was fixed on Song Qi’s fully restored right hand, a hint of hesitation in his expression.
“You…” Song Qi looked between the two Chen Junans. “Are you…?”
“Don’t mess with me,” Chen Junan muttered blankly, then set down “his own” corpse and turned to face Chu Tianqiu.
“What?” Chu Tianqiu asked.
“Listen, Xiao Chu… I don’t know what you’ve done, but I have a bad feeling about it,” Chen Junan narrowed his eyes. “Explain yourself now, or I swear I’ll slap you across the face.”
“It might be hard for you to understand, but I really am saving you,” Chu Tianqiu said earnestly. “Take a step back and look at it—just now, ‘Chen Junan’ was about to die, so I found a way to keep ‘Chen Junan’ alive. That’s the whole story.”
Chen Junan turned away, confused, and asked Yun Yao, “Hey, superstar, I’m lost. Tell me, is that true?”
Yun Yao couldn’t speak.
He then turned to Aunt Tong. “Auntie, is that the case?”
Aunt Tong thought for a moment and nodded. “It’s hard to wrap your head around, but judging by the outcome… yes.”
Old Lü was stunned. “N-no, that can’t be right…?”
“It’s exactly right,” Little Glasses chimed in. “As Chu Tianqiu said, we need to look at the bigger picture.”
But Dr. Zhao had a different opinion. “No, it’s not right. None of you died, and none of you were copied. Of course you can take a detached view, but what about the person who was copied…?”
Everyone seemed to have their own take, and no one could convince anyone else.
Ignoring them, Chu Tianqiu adjusted his glasses and asked softly, “Song Qi… what brings you here?”
“A favor for a friend, a duty to fulfill,” Song Qi replied before walking over to Chen Junan. He studied him for a moment, then muttered to himself.
### Prison.
Saturday arrived at Qi Xia’s cell door and knocked on the iron bars as a formality.
“What?” Qi Xia turned his head slightly from his seat.
“Song Qi has something to tell you,” Saturday said, stepping inside without waiting for permission. “You got a minute?”
Before Qi Xia could nod, Saturday began relaying the message. “I’m at ‘Paradise’ right now. The situation here is… complicated. I see Chen Junan holding Chen Junan’s corpse. The body is still warm, so it must have just died, but there’s also an unharmed Chen Junan standing here…”
“Huh…?”
Ignoring Qi Xia’s confusion, Saturday continued, “That’s what I’m seeing. Some people here say Chu Tianqiu used some kind of special ‘echo’ to copy Chen Junan, but no one knows exactly how—not even Chu Tianqiu himself is explaining.”
Qi Xia blinked slowly.
Copied… Chen Junan?
Why…?
After a few seconds of thought, Qi Xia looked up and said, “Fake.”
Without hesitation, Saturday pressed a finger to her ear and whispered, “Verify his authenticity.”
Song Qi nodded upon hearing this and asked Chen Junan, “This morning, I brought a group to ‘Paradise’ and ran into you at the gate. What was the first thing you said to me?”
“How the hell should I remember…?” Chen Junan glanced at Song Qi, then after a brief pause, said, “Probably… ‘Little Song’…?”
Song Qi froze, sensing something odd.
It wasn’t Chen Junan’s attitude that was strange—it was that the first words he’d heard this morning had indeed been “Little Song.”
“You got anything else?” Chen Junan asked absently. “My head’s a mess right now… don’t piss me off.”
Hearing this, Song Qi took a step back and murmured, “Three parts fake, seven parts real.”
Saturday relayed this verbatim to Qi Xia.
“Seven parts real…?” Qi Xia frowned.
He couldn’t quite grasp the situation. The person should either be real or fake—how could they be “seven parts real”?
“Can I talk to him directly?” Qi Xia asked.
“No,” Saturday scoffed. “Listen, genius, don’t push it. I’m already doing you a favor by passing messages. If you’re not happy, go see for yourself.”
Qi Xia didn’t argue. Instead, he said, “Fine. Ask him about a kid named Zheng Yingxiong—how many people were in the room when we first met him?”
With an annoyed sigh, Saturday relayed the question.
Chen Junan frowned upon hearing it. “Song Minghui… are you deliberately screwing with me? How would I remember how many people were there?”
Song Qi sighed and passed the response back.
Qi Xia nodded. “He’s probably real.”
He knew Xu Liunian’s personality well. If this Chen Junan were an imposter, they’d likely guess a number based on the situation. But if they didn’t even bother guessing, it was almost certainly the real Chen Junan.
But if Chen Junan was fine… what was the deal with the corpse Song Qi mentioned?
And what about this “copying”?
How could Chu Tianqiu have that kind of ability?
It sounded almost like…
“Wait…”
Something felt off. Wasn’t this the power of “Endless Life”?
Why could Chu Tianqiu use “Endless Life”?
“Are you really striving for ‘omnipotence’?” Qi Xia muttered in confusion.
“Hey,” Saturday called. “Are you done? There’s literally a corpse there—are you sure he’s real?”
“I’m done.” Qi Xia suddenly felt a headache coming on and pressed a hand to his forehead. “Regardless of the corpse, as long as ‘Chen Junan’ is okay, that’s what matters.”
Saturday gave him a skeptical look but only clicked her tongue before relaying Qi Xia’s words to Song Qi.
“Got it.” Song Qi nodded. Just as he was about to pass the message to Chen Junan, he noticed the latter staring at him curiously.
“What?” Song Qi asked.
“Little Song… your behavior just now… seems familiar,” Chen Junan said, setting down “his own” corpse and standing up to meet Song Qi’s gaze. “Are you communicating with someone remotely?”
“Yes,” Song Qi admitted.
“Saturday…?” Chen Junan tested. “Or should I call her… Weekend?”
“You… you know her too?”
“So that’s how it is…” Chen Junan laughed bitterly, suddenly understanding. “Qian Wu, ‘Cat,’ Saturday… Hahaha… I see now…”
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