Chapter 66: Rumor (Revised)

"These people were so active last night?" he clicked in out of curiosity, wanting to see what news had set the group off.

The message log scrolled rapidly under his fingers; he skimmed it, and the Core of the discussion centered on a music‑section streamer.

That streamer was on the same platform as Yang Yixie, but he signed off early last night, perfectly missing the uproar.

Now the link that shows "Video does not exist" can't be opened, so he can only piece together a rough picture from his classmates' overlapping chatter.

"The streamer's ID is Xingkong Zhilin; I know her. Before the college entrance exam I often visited her live room—her singing is superb, her voice ethereal like a fairy."

A classmate, clearly a fan, exclaimed excitedly and immediately asked what exactly had happened to her.

"Yes, that's her. Apparently she suffered a tragic car accident years ago, leaving permanent damage to her leg, so she has been confined to a wheelchair ever since."

"Exactly. The crucial point is that around midnight last night, she was live‑streaming a song as usual when she suddenly froze, and her voice cut off abruptly."

"I was in the live room at the time! The scene was so eerie!"

A classmate claiming to be a witness described the scene in detail.

"She seemed as if her soul had been suddenly ripped away, her gaze fixed straight at the camera, her pupils unfocused, her whole body frozen there, her complexion death‑pale."

"After a full ten‑plus seconds, she gasped for breath, then... then she started frantically crouching to touch her leg, looked up and scanned the surroundings, her eyes filled with shock and bewilderment, and a hint of..."

"The ecstatic joy of surviving a disaster? That feeling of 'I'm still alive!'"

"And then? And then? Don't tease us," the others urged impatiently.

"Hold on, typing takes time! Then she actually braced both hands on the wheelchair armrests and, trembling, rose straight up from the chair—standing on the live room floor!"

"WTF?! Is this for real? This script is so fake—performing for views?"

"The bullet comments exploded then—screen filled with '???' and '!!!'."

"Some called it a medical miracle, but most slammed it as hype, saying she'd throw away basic morals for fame, exploiting viewers' sympathy."

At that moment, another usually rational classmate interjected, offering a different view.

"I don't think it's a script; I've followed this streamer for a long time. She's pretty strong‑willed, rarely plays the victim, and almost never mentions her leg. Her fans genuinely love her singing."

"She has no reason, and she doesn't seem like the type to pull such cheap hype, does she?"

The previously describing classmate immediately retorted: "You can know someone's face but not their heart, brother! Who knows if the team has been planning this for ages, holding back a big move to get famous? These days, for fame, nothing's off‑limits!"

He ignored the classmate trying to defend the streamer and kept describing the chaotic aftermath on his own.

"Then it got even more surreal! Her family burst into the live room, the background noise turned chaotic, everyone shocked she could stand, shouting to call 120 immediately and take her to the hospital for a full check‑up."

"But the streamer herself seemed possessed, ignoring all advice, insisting on leaving right away to find someone!"

"She clutched her phone tightly, redialing a number over and over, but the other side never answered. Her eyes reddened, her voice cracked with sobs, emotions in total collapse, repeatedly muttering 'I must find him', 'There's no time', and the like..."

"And then? She just left like that?"

"In the end, her family couldn't force her any longer, worried about her mental state, forcibly shut down the live equipment, and nothing further was heard. She may have truly gone to find that person, or she may have gone to the hospital."

Although there's no concrete video proof, the sheer bizarre nature of the incident was enough to set this hyper‑energetic, bored group of youths ablaze with endless speculation, analysis, and conspiracy theories.

But internet memory is fleeting; trends rise like surf, one wave never settling before the next crashes.

Late into the night, whoever started it first, the discussion gradually went off‑track; the incident was like a stone tossed into a lake—though it stirred ripples, it eventually sank slowly, covered by newer information.

Yang Yixie scrolled the screen and saw the classmate who first shared the news had, before the topic fully cooled, posted several screenshots of comments taken from other social platforms, apparently trying to prove that someone being possessed wasn't an isolated case last night.

In the screenshots, there were indeed scattered posts from various corners, each cryptic in meaning.

"Help! I think a mysterious game chose me! I was thrust straight into another world! I'm freaking out now!"

"Last night I got a weird beta link; I clicked out of curiosity and lost consciousness, waking up in a completely unfamiliar place! System Prompt said I'd be 'online' again soon—so panicked. Does anyone know what's happening?"

"Anyone similar? For the code: what are people who receive a deity's blessing called?"

A few onlookers who loved the drama replied with nonsense memes and codes like "King of Return", "Divine Gifted One", and the like.

The screenshot‑posting classmate finally added a teasing remark.

"So next up, will short‑video platforms be flooded with all kinds of 'I've time‑traveled' cosplay videos?"

Seeing those terms, a bolt of lightning seemed to slash through Yang Yixie's mind, instantly illuminating his brother's nonsensical call from last night.

So…

"Did my brother go crazy from endless internet surfing?"

"Seeing these phantom‑chasing meme posts, I imagined myself in them, and it even landed on my own younger brother?"

"And does it subtly hint that I might have had some weird dream, thinking I'd actually time‑traveled?"

At that thought, Yang Yixie's face went completely black; he slapped his face hard with icy tap water, the bone‑chilling cold effectively dispelling the last dregs of sleepiness.

He tossed the bizarre online rumors and his brother's "prank" out of his mind and, deftly, began preparing his day's itinerary:

First, a trip to the nearby market for groceries, then back to cook, delivering a meal to his hospitalized mother at noon on schedule.

He headed first to the market near his residential complex; by early morning it was already bustling with voices, brimming with vibrant life.

Yang Yixie weaved smoothly through the shoulder‑to‑shoulder crowd, pausing at each familiar stall.

"Boss, what's the price for the pork ribs today?"

"Half a basket of winter melon, yes, that piece."

"The greens look so fresh, could you make it a bit cheaper?"