Ghost Show: Still Playing Games with Half of the Body

My name is Jiang Yan. This is my one hundred and twenty-eighth attempt. One hundred and twenty-seven times before, I died. Some died in the hands of the man whose mouth was sewn shut, some died in the hands of the old woman with eyes, and some were just glanced at by the silver-haired girl on the throne - and never woke up again. But I wake up every time. Beside a girl named Wen Yan. She didn't remember any of this and looked at me the same way every time and asked me where I was from. I said I don't know. I really don't know—I don't remember who I am or why the world is the way it is. Ghosts and evil are rampant, and survivors huddle in the dome city. What is more terrifying than the monsters are those with runes branded on their foreheads. They emerge from the darkness with eerie smiles and invite you to "play a game." There are no rules. Every time is different. Every time, they were laughing. I beat them all. Then I discovered that the twisted runes on their foreheads were the same thing as the numbers that were jumping repeatedly on the screen of the white-haired woman in my dream. Just now, an ordinary soldier walked past me. He walked into the men's room and looked back at me. At that moment, his skin turned gray-white, and his eyes held inhuman contempt. I've seen that look. One hundred and twenty-seven times.