As time slowly passed, Zhang Wei grew increasingly bored just watching the other three play.
He sighed and fidgeted in his seat, wishing he could join in on the action, but he wasn’t really into video games.
Frustrated, he took out his phone and started randomly disturbing Leng Yan and Rose in succession, a mischievous smirk spreading across his face.
‘Ha, having multiple women is really advantageous,’ he thought to himself as he continued to annoy them.
Meanwhile, Song Shoushan was fully immersed in the game, her eyes fixated on the screen as she eliminated players one by one.
She suddenly thought of something and turned to Ye Feng, a sly smile forming on her lips.
“Hey Ye Feng, have you ever killed a person?” she asked, her voice full of curiosity.
With one swift click of her mouse, she eliminated yet another player, causing blood to spurt from his avatar’s head and die.
Ye Feng continued to play the game as if he had never heard her question, but Zhang Wei noticed a slight flicker in his eyes that hinted at something deeper.
Song Shoushan snorted when Ye Feng didn’t reply and turned to Zhang Wei, a mischievous glint in her eye.
“Hey, do you know how it feels to kill someone?” she asked curiously, the excitement of the game still coursing through her veins.
Zhang Wei’s attention was drawn away from his phone as he heard the words, “Killing someone?” spoken by the person beside him.
He put his phone down and looked at her with a thoughtful expression on his face.
“You don’t actually feel anything until you want to feel it,” he said, his voice calm and measured.
“Those who claim to feel guilty do so because they assume they’ve done something wrong. But to those who think they’ve done nothing wrong, it all seems normal.”
Suddenly, his tone shifted, becoming darker and more intense. His eyes fixed on a distant point, as if he was seeing something that only he could see.
“But once you’ve taken a life, there’s no going back,” he said. “You realize that the rules of society, the police, and all these constructs are just preventive measures – not absolute ones”
“They are not gods, and their rules are not unbreakable. You see just how fragile human life is and can never again trust anyone else to protect it.”
Zhang Wei’s voice grew even more ominous as he continued, “You have to take matters into your own hands because the law only comes into play after the crime has already ended. Once you’ve accepted this, you can kill again and again – the second time, the third time, and so on. It becomes easier each time.”
“You realize that you alone control your own fate, and the only law that matters is the one you make for yourself.”
Song Shoushan’s curiosity was piqued, and she asked Zhang Wei, “Isn’t killing a crime?”
Zhang Wei nodded his head in agreement.
“Why do you think experimenting on cockroaches is acceptable, but killing butterflies isn’t?” Zhang Wei replied, his voice calm and measured.
Their conversation then turned to a debate on the concept of killing and its relationship to the utility an organism provides to society.
Zhang Wei explained that researchers and scientists who contribute positively to society are viewed as more valuable than others.
Conversely, those who cause harm or provide negative utility, such as criminals, should be neutralized with urgency.
The question of whether human life matters, therefore, requires an examination of how value is assigned. 𝚘𝑣𝐥xt.𝗇𝓔t
Feeling intrigued by the discussion, Song Shoushan asked, “If killing isn’t bad, then why do people feel isolated or go insane after they do it?”
She had seen it in movies and TV shows, where characters who had taken a life became isolated, disconnected, or even went insane.
Zhang Wei glanced at Ye Feng, who appeared to be getting increasingly uncomfortable with their conversation. But Zhang Wei’s smile remained as he carefully framed his next words.
“They don’t feel isolated…” he spoke, his voice calm and measured.
“What?” Song Shoushan looked up from the screen, surprised by Zhang Wei’s statement.
“They feel alienated, not isolated,” Zhang Wei explained. “Human beings are social creatures. We want to share what we’ve done, share our feelings of how it felt to kill with others. But when you’ve taken a life, you become an outcast.”
“You’re no longer part of the society you once belonged to. You’re no longer like everyone else. This leads to a profound sense of loneliness and disconnection.”
Zhang Wei’s expression grew somber as he continued, “When a soldier is in the military, even after killing, he quickly adapts because everyone around him is a killer. They can share their experiences, and they understand each other.”
“But once he comes back to the real world, he feels suffocated because he can’t talk about his feelings with anyone. He’s been trained to think that killing is bad, but he’s done it anyway.”
“He’s been programmed to think one way, but his experiences tell him another.”
Song Shoushan listened intently, fascinated by the depth of Zhang Wei’s insights. “So why do soldiers feel the need to share their experiences with others?” he asked.
Zhang Wei’s eyes shone with understanding as he replied, “They want acceptance. They want someone to tell them that what they did was okay. If a person has already accepted that they have done nothing wrong, then they won’t need to share their experiences with others to self-justify their acts.”
“But for most people, the weight of what they’ve done is just too heavy to bear alone. Most People are weak!”
Zhang Wei leaned forward, and spoke deeply . “It’s not just limited to killing. There are people in general who don’t fit the mold, who question the status quo. People who don’t want to follow the typical path of school, college, job, marriage, and death.”
“They want to explore new ways of living, to break free from the constraints of society. Then there are those who question the very nature of reality itself.”
“People who challenge the traditional notions of good and evil, right and wrong. Those who question the existence of God, the purpose of life, and the very fabric of the universe. All of these people are different from the crowd, and it’s the fear of being different that leads to their alienation from society.”
Song Shoushan listened, fascinated by Zhang Wei’s words.
Zhang Wei continued, “These people are often seen as a threat by society. They represent a challenge to the established order, and that makes people uncomfortable.”
“But it’s important to remember that these people are not necessarily a danger to society. They are simply exploring different ways of living, different ways of understanding the world around them. It’s only when they are pushed to the fringes of society that they become a problem.”
Zhang Wei leaned forward, his eyes intense as he spoke.
“It’s not just limited to killing.”
“There are people out there who don’t fit the general order or norm.”
“All of these people are different from the crowd.”
“These all are the ones who don’t mindlessly follow what they have been told.”
“In general, these people are called ‘deviants’, all of them deviates from normal order of thinking.”
“But if these deviants don’t come to terms with their own thoughts and actions, they may end up like your friend Ye Feng – internally suffocated and torn apart, pretending to be strong and collected,” Zhang Wei continued.
*Bam!*
Ye Feng suddenly stood up, his chair clattering to the ground.
He grabbed Zhang Wei by the collar and shouted, “Shut up your mouth already! What are you teaching her?”
!!
Ye Feng’s sudden outburst startled Song Shoushan and Feng Xinyue, who both jumped in their seats.
Zhang Wei, however, remained calm and collected, meeting Ye Feng’s angry gaze with a sly smirk.
As Ye Feng grabbed him by the collar, Zhang Wei leaned in close and whispered tauntingly, “A mercenary coming to the civilian world, living like a beggar…
“Let me guess, you have money, but you think it’s bad because it came from evil sources? Did I hit a sore spot?”
“Are you tired of running, constantly escaping the battlefield? Or did you suddenly realize that the work you were doing was evil?”
Ye Feng’s hands shook with fury as he asked, “Who are you?”
His face was contorted with rage, but Zhang Wei seemed to be enjoying himself.
Suddenly, Ye Feng’s phone rang, interrupting the tense moment.
He snatched it up and walked away from Zhang Wei, but Zhang Wei’s sharp ears still picked up the conversation.
“Tsk, a dog!” Zhang Wei laughed to himself as he listened in on Ye Feng’s conversation with Lin Ruoxi.
Ye Feng’s subservience was palpable, and Zhang Wei couldn’t help but think of him as a dog on a leash, obediently following his master’s orders.
Zhang Wei had lost all respect for someone who acted in such a manner as he had just witnessed in the phone call.
Ye Feng, seemingly in a rush, hastily grabbed his car keys and shot Zhang Wei a final, heated glare before storming out of the place.
It was clear that he was already behind in picking up Lin Ruoxi, and delaying any further would result in a scolding from her.
Song Shoushan, filled with guilt and embarrassment on behalf of Zhang Wei, turned to him and spoke in a meek tone.
“I’m sorry about earlier,” she apologized sincerely.
Zhang Wei adjusted his collar and let out a chuckle. “Forget it,” he replied smoothly, knowing that his mission had already been accomplished.
In the course of a single day, Ye Feng’s perception on Song Shoushan’s mind had plummeted.
As if that wasn’t enough, Zhang Wei peeked at his watch and made an insinuation. “It’s getting late, and it’s not exactly safe for you to travel home alone.”
He looked at Song Shoushan, who suddenly panicked and furiously looked at the time.
“Zhang Wei!” she pled in desperation, “Could you come with me, please? You could just say that I was with you, or my mom will kill me if I go home alone!” Her voice trembled with genuine fear.
If Zhao Hongyan realizes her daughter was not only skipping school but also staying this late outside, she might as well be stripped off of all privellages.
Zhang Wei, with a sly smile, pretended to think before agreeing to go with her.
Song Shoushan beamed brightly, completely oblivious to what Zhang Wei had in store.
He wondered how he was supposed to convince her mother of the truth when he didn’t even know who Zhao Hongyan was.
What could he possibly be thinking about plotting next?
However, just as Zhang Wei reached for the car door handle, an inexplicable anomaly occurred.
Suddenly, the colorful world that surrounded him faded into a stark black and white.
Startled and confused, Zhang Wei looked around him, trying to make sense of what was happening.
“What is happening now?” he exclaimed, his heart racing with unease.
As he attempted to establish contact with the system, he realized that the connection had been severed.
Panic set in as he felt a sudden disconnect from the world around him.
To his horror, he noticed that everything had come to a complete halt. The trees, the people, even the birds in the sky – all were frozen in time, as if suspended in mid-air.
The eerie silence was overwhelming, and Zhang Wei couldn’t shake off the feeling that he was all alone in a world that had ceased to exist.