That day, all relocation activities at the base came to a halt.

After the morning that followed the downpour, everyone gathered at the entrance to Game #21, waiting for the ten players to go in.

Or rather: the ten brave souls.

The puddles on the ground reflected the bright blue sky — like mirrors scattered across the earth, pale and luminous. The wheelchair rolled through them, shattering the reflections, leaving shallow ripples in its wake — and then a new set of colors appeared in the puddle mirrors.

Black hair. A white dress. Deep grey blanket draped behind her. Eyes the color of light ink, touched with just a trace of sky-blue — cool and sharp, with a hint of watchfulness beneath.

Clearly a languid and soft-featured girl — and yet somehow, she gave people the feeling of cold mist and overcast cloud.

Shen Mo pushed Bai Youwei’s wheelchair as they came forward, unhurried.

Countless gazes fell upon her.

Surprise. Puzzlement. Admiration. Caution and scrutiny — but not a trace of contempt.

No one dared to underestimate her.

At a moment like this, simply being willing to enter Game #21 was itself proof of ability.

The entrance to Game #21 was at the gate of an amusement park in the Pudong New District.

The full party had assembled. Shen Fei was the last to arrive.

His parents had both come.

Shen Mo’s father had come as well — to see off his nephew, and his son.

If these ten failed this time, then this farewell would be their last meeting.

The atmosphere was weighted with the quiet sorrow that comes with seeing loved ones off. Shen Fei’s mother was holding herself together, not allowing herself to cry aloud — yet her tears flowed continuously. And men, being unaccustomed to showing their emotions, were no different: Shen Fei’s father had red eyes but said only one thing as he clapped his son on the shoulder: “We’ll be waiting out here for you and your brother to come back.”

Shen Mo reassured his uncle: “I’ll look after him.”

Bai Youwei stood to one side, idly watching the scene. She thought to herself that she’d better keep a close eye on Shen Fei — because if something happened to him, Shen Mo might very well hand over his own puzzle pieces to save this dim-witted cousin of his.

Ugh, if only Xiaoxin had come instead. But Shen Mo wouldn’t agree…

“Weiwei, do you remember me?”

A warm male voice sounded beside her. She turned — it was Shen Mo’s father.

“I remember.” Bai Youwei chose her words carefully.

Considering who he was, she adjusted her expression and put on a sweet smile, speaking softly and gently: “You’re Uncle Shen. Once, when I went to the hospital for a check-up, my mother’s car broke down, so you came specially to pick us up. You even bought me ice cream on the way.”

Shen Mo’s father smiled. “That’s right — and I had to buy it twice. The first was chocolate ice cream, and you refused it. You had to have the matcha flavor, which made your mother so cross she scolded you the whole ride home.”

That was not exactly a flattering memory. Bai Youwei made her voice even softer and more well-behaved: “I was young and didn’t know any better. I caused you so much trouble.”

Tan Xiao, standing nearby, gave her a peculiar look. “Weiwei, why are you talking like that?”

“What do you mean?” She looked back at him with a carefully innocent expression, all sweetness and light. “I’ve always talked like this~”

“…” Tan Xiao rubbed his arm quietly.

Shen Mo’s father bent toward her, his smile growing warmer. “You’re just as adorable as you were when you were little. I hope you still are — the same way you were then: once you’ve made up your mind, you don’t change it.”

He straightened up and looked at Shen Mo, who was standing behind the wheelchair. “Whether you can clear the game or not — the act of persisting itself is a kind of strength. You both have that strength.”

To his father’s words of encouragement, Shen Mo was as unmoved as ever, his expression blank. “Dad — go home. We’re about to enter the game.”

“Don’t worry — I’ll take good care of Shen Mo.” Bai Youwei waved a cheerful little farewell at Shen Mo’s father. “Goodbye, Uncle Shen~”

“All right, goodbye, Weiwei~” Shen Mo’s father waved back.

“Wave,” Bai Youwei said, tugging at Shen Mo’s sleeve.

“…” Shen Mo raised his hand and gave two slow waves.

The others had already gone inside.

Shen Mo pushed Bai Youwei’s wheelchair forward. Shen Fei followed behind them. Ten figures vanished into the air.