"All data can be tampered with, except the coordinates where I look at you."
Everyone in No. 8 Middle School knew that Mo Qing was a mad dog. Cigarette butts burn school rules, wine bottles open people's brains, and their fists are designed to punch hypocrites in the face. They are so crazy that they use their fists openly and are completely bad. Chen Run is different - the number one fishing god in his grade, with his shirt buttoned to the top and a smile hiding bait.
"What are you pretending to be?" She crushed his competition paper, grabbed his tie and forced him to lean over, "top student, the smell of blood on you is stronger than mine. We're going to die together."
Only later did she realize that the road he had paved for that deliberate and indulgent depravity was his own.
On the ninety-ninth day after the breakup, the bloody sunset engulfed the campus and countless black shadows crawled out of the ground.
"The school rules are the rules, welcome to my slaughterhouse."
"The third page of the school rules says 'no skipping classes'," Chen Run crushed the dean's throat and warm blood dripped down the frame, "so all members must participate in this infinite escape."
Mo Qing finally saw clearly the madness boiling under his skin. The death files that he personally modified, the examination room seating chart that he adjusted, and even every hypocrite she beat up were all anchor points for his layout. When the black shadow tore open the door of the sports warehouse, she stabbed the utility knife into his palm with her backhand: "Did you predict that I would choose the path of killing gods?"
"No," he chuckled against her blood-stained forehead, "I bet you can't let it go." He smiled and licked the blood from her mouth: "I wrote thirty-seven versions of the rules of the game."
The moment they hugged each other and fell into the gallows turned into a math test paper, Mo Qing bit his ear bone and sneered: "In the next copy, I want to see you reset all the death nodes yourself."
"Okay," Chen Run licked the blood from her mouth, "but the first rule - always choose me." Top students are melting, and mad dogs are reborn.
What they embraced and fell into was a sincerity crazier than hell.
"I'm sure you won't fall in love with this massacre."
"I wrote the rules of the game." He touched her blood-stained forehead, "Do you want to bet that I will always choose you?"
Mo Qing bit his Adam's apple: "I chose the way of killing gods."
"Welcome to my world."
Intention: Redemption and passion