Horror Death Game

As a child, I was frail and often ill. My family sought medical help everywhere, but my health remained precarious. Even my father, who had never believed in superstition, took me to visit the Northeast Spirit Medium—what people call a “seer”—hoping for some miraculous cure. Yet the outcome was disappointing; the medium even declared, “This child won’t live past the age of ten.”

Despite such dire predictions, I somehow managed to survive, stumbling from one illness to another for eighteen years.

That June, I was hospitalized once more with tuberculosis. By the time I returned to school, it was already July.

“Well, look who it is! Isn’t that our resident invalid, Lin Yao?” The moment I stepped into the classroom, I was greeted by a chorus of teasing from my classmates.

I was fairly well-liked, and not unattractive, but my constant illnesses made me an easy target for ridicule.

“Shut up, damn you, Li Zijian,” I grumbled at my insufferable deskmate and slumped into my seat beside him.

“Oh, still mad?” Li Zijian gave me a look so mischievous I couldn’t help but want to laugh. “He’s even more annoying than Deadpool,” I thought.

Senior year was busy. Though I’d been gone a month, no one made a fuss over my return—it was as if a pebble had dropped into the ocean, leaving not a ripple behind.

By the second break, fatigue overwhelmed me and I dozed off at my desk. Even twenty minutes of sleep was a precious respite for my exhausted body.

Then, something odd happened—I had the strangest dream.

In the dream, I found myself