A Pit, Three Falls

The staircase looked silent, dark, and endless.

But when Wang Ye actually stepped onto it, he discovered it only took a few steps.

The second floor.

It was rather different from what he had imagined. There were no stockpiles of weapons, no soul of some powerful figure, not even that of the black-robed youth.

Nothing that would offer him a word of enlightenment or directly seize his body.

Wang Ye had considered all of that.

Only...

The real second floor was not spacious at all, barely more than ten square meters. It was utterly quiet, containing only a desk and a sheet of paper with writing on it.

Wang Ye quietly let out a breath.

His taut body relaxed slightly at that moment. He silently put away several of the trump cards he had prepared before walking to the desk and lowering his head to look.

'Stay true to your heart, the road.'

'Is right ahead.'

'You are you, and can only be you.'

To Wang Ye's surprise, he could understand this passage. It was fucking simplified Chinese.

And...

The handwriting was ugly, like that of a child just learning to write.

It even looked somewhat familiar.

Perhaps exceptional—especially exceptional—memory was the only talent Wang Ye had ever possessed that truly belonged to him.

After only a brief moment of thought, Wang Ye fell silent.

The handwriting in this passage...

Was almost identical to the out-of-place sentence on the orphanage wall.

Was it that person?

After awakening back then, had they written these words before dissipating between heaven and earth, or perhaps falling asleep within his body once more?

He was not sure.

And the so-called second floor of the Post Office contained only this single passage.

There was not even any energy contained within the words.

The only thing