This time, the man hid in the corner, still clutching his head with both hands, back to everyone, just like a child with autism.
"Bang!"
The third time.
The bald man returned to the center again. This time, he wasn't holding his head; instead, he stared straight at the glass wall.
Xu Xiangyang silently counted, roughly in ten-second intervals, the lights behind the glass curtain wall would switch on and off, very regularly—obviously mechanically controlled. However, he couldn't understand the purpose of this experiment... After all, it was just a headless, unintelligible recording, entirely devoid of background information. Meng Zheng had given it to him very hurriedly, with a look of eagerness to leave, without mentioning any cause or consequence.
"Bang!"
The fourth time.
"Ahh, ahh––!!"
The man on the ground desperately struggled, twisted, rolled about, like a drug addict going through withdrawal, with pained howls transmitting from the recording.
