Ex-Girlfriend – Chapter 113
by Little PandaBUG
Life and Death Examination Room 230
Examination God
The atmosphere in the base was very strange right now.
Who could have thought the few people who came in would be so capable in a fight, and the things they used were so weird-weird1.
One using a rare energy gun was one thing, but what kind of monsters were the others?
Fire, wind… it made the others shrink back uncontrollably.
Under this kind of surreal power, they had almost no strength to resist.
Even the bullets fired couldn’t harm them in the slightest.
Wan Yan looked at these NPCs and knew her guess was correct.
“How can they be so weak.”
Ah Cheng muttered under her breath.
Indeed, these NPCs were very weak.
Compared to the NPCs from previous worlds, these were ones they could crush with one hand.
Wan Yan thought, this was probably the loophole in the Rules.
After all, the Rules stated that delivering the research results to the base meant victory; who would have thought someone would directly attack the people in the base?
Precisely because this point was overlooked, the Rules, that is, that BUG, hadn’t thought to strengthen the NPCs at all.
Under this kind of forceful suppression, those NPCs naturally agreed to Wan Yan’s demand for a merger.
With guns already pointed at their heads, how could they possibly not agree?
Seeing things settled here, Wan Yan had someone stay behind to watch.
The one who stayed was Shizi; his mission objective was this base.
The other few people followed Wan Yan out.
Xin Lan saw them come out and honked the horn.
“Same?”
Xin Lan asked abruptly.
“Same.”
“Good.”
Xin Lan nodded. Since it was as they had envisioned, it was still quite easy to handle.
They drove towards the next base.
There were three ways to merge the two bases.
First, have Hope Base move to White Deer Base.
Second, have White Deer Base move to Hope Base.
Third, find a new place, establish a new base, and have people from both sides move there.
The third method was troublesome and time-consuming; Xin Lan and the others leaned towards the first two.
After that came the attempt.
Xin Lan led a few teammates into the base.
Like autumn winds sweeping away fallen leaves2, they subdued3 the people inside and made them move.
The NPCs were very surprised, but they still obediently did as they were told.
Xin Lan released her quietly clenched fist. If these NPCs had stuck firmly to their settings and refused to leave home, then they would have had to make a compromise.
Xin Lan felt that if a choice had to be made, it would be best for her to yield, but she knew Wan Yan must be thinking the same thing.
The plan was proceeding relatively smoothly so far. They waited a long time for packing up. When night fell, truck after truck drove before and behind Xin Lan and the others, like a long dragon.
Xin Lan and Wan Yan had thus forcibly brought the people of the two bases together.
And they had the leaders of the two bases jointly announce the birth of the new base and its name after the merger.
Xin Lan wouldn’t rename the base either; the name was simply White Deer Hope Base, merging the names of the two bases.
Xin Lan didn’t carry the password box through the gate of that base. Instead, she had the original leaders and high-level personnel from both bases stand outside while she introduced the item in her hands to them.
The other students4 stood nearby watching.
“Will this work?”
Ah Cheng was a bit worried. She exchanged a look with Shizi, the same concern in his eyes.
“We’ll know just by watching.”
Yuan Yuan’s expression, however, was unprecedentedly calm, just like Huo Xu beside him.
Chen Bai’s face lost some of its usual carelessness; he stared intently over there.
For them, this wasn’t just an exam, but a game concerning life and death.
They had actually all prepared for failure, each one inwardly tense, watching the person opening the password box.
Xin Lan was also waiting.
The moment the password box was opened, she suddenly saw something like water ripples appear within her line of sight.
It seemed like space was becoming unstable, about to ripple apart.
Time suddenly froze.
It seemed even the wind had stopped.
But it was only for a brief instant.
In the next moment, Xin Lan felt a huge tremor.
Xin Lan looked to the side; Wan Yan was frowning, apparently also sensing this force.
Yet the others seemed completely unaware.
That strange, sharp voice suddenly echoed in her mind.
“Students suspected of violating exam hall5 discipline will be punished. We hope all students will abide by the exam hall rules and take the exam seriously. The two students leading the violation this time will be expelled from the exam hall. Other violating students will receive one warning. If it happens again, they will be dealt with as failures.”
The Rules, high and mighty, announced the world laws it had established in everyone’s minds.
Yuan Yuan and the others all heard this voice and subconsciously looked towards Xin Lan and Wan Yan, but where they had stood, there was no trace of Xin Lan or Wan Yan anymore.
The next moment, they appeared in a white space, looking at each other in blank dismay.
“Did… something happen to them?”
Yuan Yuan asked softly.
The others moved their lips, their faces showing a hint of indifference.
Yuan Yuan fell silent, sat down on a chair, waiting for the rest period to pass before entering the next exam.
Actually, it had nothing to do with him. In such a dangerous situation, who could afford to look out for anyone else?
The first instant Wan Yan fell into darkness, she contacted Ling Jiu.
She had heard the Rules’ judgment but dismissed it.
She only cared about where Xin Lan was right now.
She tried to establish a mental link but found nothing.
How could that be possible?
The mental connection between Systems should be prioritized. Even if that BUG could block a System’s detection functions, it shouldn’t be able to block the mental connection between Systems.
Wan Yan tried establishing it again, still failing.
She frowned deeply, looking at the surrounding blackness.
“I didn’t originally plan for it to be this fast.”
Wan Yan murmured.
After all, she still wanted to share a few more tender moments with Xin Lan.
“But since you’ve done this…”
A faint blue light leaked from Wan Yan’s fingertips, like strings of code, merging into the darkness.
And on the other side, Ling Jiu was frantic with anxiety6.
She had been isolated by some unknown force.
This force came from this world’s BUG, and Ling Jiu was powerless against it.
She couldn’t wake her sleeping Host, nor could she establish a mental link with the Commander.
It was completely dark here; nothing could be seen clearly.
“Host, wake up quickly!”
She called out anxiously, but the person floating in the darkness gave her no response.
When Xin Lan opened her eyes, her mind was somewhat blank.
“Lanlan, you’re awake? Hurry and get dressed. Aren’t you reporting to the military academy today? Don’t be late.”
Her mother’s voice was gentle, and the familiar yet strange face before her left Xin Lan somewhat dazed.
She felt something seemed off, yet it also felt like things should be this way.
She stood before the mirror. The girl in the mirror was tall, her excessively beautiful face holding a touch of cold hardness, yet also a hint of immaturity.
Xin Lan looked at her own face, constantly feeling something wasn’t right.
It seemed she shouldn’t look like this anymore.
“What’s wrong? Why are you spacing out? You’re not reluctant to leave, are you?”
Her mother spoke with a smile, but Xin Lan felt strangely unmoved inside.
It shouldn’t be like this.
Xin Lan thought.
She seemed to have forgotten something.
Towards her mother, she had always been respectful and loving, never like now, where she even felt the person before her was just a stranger with little connection.
The gentle voice continued by her ear, but Xin Lan, without blinking, smashed the mirror in front of her.
Cracks appeared on the mirror from the impact, slowly spreading, cutting that indifferent face into fragments.
Her body suddenly felt light, followed by a tremendous roar.
Xin Lan saw dazzling fireworks ignite before her, an unstoppable, scorching hot aura rushing towards her, covering her entire vision at extreme speed. Xin Lan couldn’t feel herself.
This explosion awakened her memories. Xin Lan watched the blinding light approach but didn’t dodge at all.
This was something that had happened in her memory.
She had disappeared in that explosion, her body turned to dust, drifting in the universe.
No place to return to.
Xin Lan looked at the universe before her; in comparison, she was as insignificant as a speck of dust.
Where was she now?
This immense void left her in a numb state, unable to even feel her own existence.
In the extreme silence, it seemed even time had stopped flowing.
Past memories flashed before her like watching flowers on horseback7. She had been to many places, become different people.
Sometimes it was clanging armor and warhorses8, with mountains of bones beneath her.
Sometimes it was a living hell, with ghostly shadows flickering behind her.
She seemed to have always been a villain.
But she felt she wasn’t.
Again and again, emotions faded, until finally, she didn’t know what could stir any ripples in her heart anymore.
All emotions were superficial; even life and death were viewed indifferently.
Repeated death and resurrection would make one treat life and death lightly.
For a period, Xin Lan even felt somewhat restless.
She didn’t care about getting injured, didn’t care about pain; that made her feel she was still alive.
People only saw her forging ahead relentlessly, unable to see the suffering she had experienced.
Xin Lan didn’t know if her other colleagues were like this, but at least she was.
A life without anticipation is terrifying, because in the end, she didn’t even know what she wanted.
The fragments of memory reached the time she transferred departments.
Those blood-red and black-and-white images faded, and everything seemed to become somewhat vibrant.
Inexplicably, a touch of pleasantness actually arose in Xin Lan’s heart.
She didn’t know what she was about to recall, but it was definitely something good.
It was indeed something good.
Xin Lan saw Wan Yan’s hurried confession—though trying hard to be calm, the unconcealable nervousness, the icy blue eyes holding persistent, deep affection.
That gaze seemed to ignite her, touching her from the surface right down to her soul.
Xin Lan once thought that the emotion of liking someone was unattainable for her.
Because she had never felt this way before.
It seemed everyone else was merely a two-dimensional existence to her, passing by silently, leaving no trace.
Every mission was like a lonely journey. The System accompanied her, true, but essentially, she was still alone.
The memory stopped at the last moment: she saw the panic in Wan Yan’s eyes, and the hand subconsciously reaching out to her.
【Host, you’re awake! Can you hear me?】
Ling Jiu’s voice rang out, full of pleasant surprise.
Mm.
Before her eyes was darkness, vast and empty, nothing visible.
Xin Lan tried to move but found herself seemingly confined by invisible walls, unable to shift even an inch.
Xin Lan wasn’t flustered either, just quietly waiting.
【Host, what should we do? We can’t contact the Commander. Should we log out first?】
No need.
I’ll wait for her here.
LP: Re-translated on April 14, 2025
Footnotes
- 奇奇怪怪 | qíqíguàiguài | Adjective reduplication for emphasis, meaning very strange/weird.
- 秋風掃落葉 | qiū fēng sǎo luò yè | Lit. “autumn wind sweeps fallen leaves”; Idiom meaning to clear away something easily and thoroughly, often implying force.
- 擺平了 | bǎipíng le | Lit. “flattened/leveled”; Slang meaning to sort out, settle, or subdue, often through force or influence.
- 同學 | tóngxué | Classmate/student. Participants of the Examination
- 考場 | Kǎochǎng | Examination hall/field. The setting of the test/trial.
- 心急如焚 | xīn jí rú fén | Lit. “heart anxious as if burning”; Idiom meaning extremely anxious or impatient.
- 走馬觀花 | zǒu mǎ guān huā | Lit. “viewing flowers while riding a horse”; Idiom meaning to gain a superficial understanding through a fleeting observation, or in this context, memories flashing by quickly.
- 金戈鐵馬 | jīn gē tiě mǎ | Lit. “gold dagger-axes and iron horses”; Metaphor for war/military campaigns.
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