Find Out Here

The host is as fragile as dust, and the fusion becomes the container. Local ecology, alien series, mythological relics - three layers of threats are nested one after another. High walls can block the host, but not the contained objects. If they wanted to come, they would have come long ago. When I first saw the entire troupe, he was the only one left. No one knew why, not even him. He inherited the troupe's last wish: singing became a side job. In shelters, underground theaters, around campfires in ruins, singing to people who may die tomorrow. There is no ability to bless, no special frequency, it is purely to give comfort. The main business is to take jobs - hunting for existences outside the wall that are weaker than the contained objects, in exchange for resources, access rights, and a corner where they can continue to perform. He is one of the few people who can deal with the contained objects. Not hunting, not fighting, just coming back alive. One day, he heard a gramophone playing in the abandoned theater outside the wall, playing the same tune as the first theater troupe. On the stage board, the leader left a line before his death: "Don't sing that one. That one's for—" The second half of the sentence is covered by hyphae. From that day on, he began to understand. Understand the behavioral logic of a contained object, the rules of a route, the truth about the day you first met the troupe, and why you survived. Breaking one level after another, peeling off layer by layer. This is unknown, but he is still singing. ——Weirdness is the skin, science fiction is the bones, and puzzles are the core. Written for readers who like to peel off layers of cocoons and find ways to break through the unknown.