Wei: A Controlled Experiment in Chaos
Wei believed in order. Structure. Patterns. Cause and effect. Yet, here he was, chasing something unpredictable.
By 3 PM, his private research facility was fully operational.
The lab was sleek and unmarked—no corporate logos, no identifiable signs. Only the most trusted personnel had access.
The space itself was divided into three sections:
1. The Testing Zone – A controlled chamber designed to replicate the conditions of the collapse sites.
2. The Observation Deck – Where monitors displayed electromagnetic readings in real-time.
3. The Analytics Hub – Where all findings were analyzed and compiled.
Dr. Yao stood beside a console, adjusting the calibration of the sensors. Feng leaned against the wall, arms crossed, watching the screen.
Wei had no doubts about the experiment.
Dr. Yao, however, was hesitant. And Wei understood why.
...
Dr. Yao's Concern
"This is reckless," Dr. Yao muttered, scanning the readings. "We're trying to replicate something that's already affecting real people. If we push too far—"
"How far do you think is 'too far'?" Wei interrupted.
Dr. Yao's jaw tightened. "We don't know. That's the point. If we keep increasing the fluctuations, what happens when we reach the same intensity as a real incident?"
Feng clicked his tongue. "The factory collapses didn't kill anyone."
"Not yet," Dr. Yao shot back. "We have no idea if there's a threshold. If we reach it, someone could collapse right here in this lab."
Wei considered this.
He had assumed Yao's concern was purely professional—a standard cautionary approach.
But now, watching him, he could tell—Dr. Yao was genuinely afraid. He wasn't worried about the data. He was worried about the people in this room.
Wei exhaled, his voice shifting—less commanding, more measured.
"There are medics in the facility," he reminded Yao. "If anyone collapses, they'll be treated immediately."
Dr. Yao's shoulders didn't relax, but the tension in his grip eased slightly. Wei didn't enjoy unnecessary risks. But if there was one thing he knew, it was that fear could spread like a virus.
If Yao's fear infected the rest of the team, progress would slow. That was unacceptable. So he gave him the smallest reassurance possible—just enough to keep the doctor steady.
Not false reassurance.
Just enough truth.
..
A Scientific Recreation of the Curse
"Bringing up the baseline data," Dr. Yao announced. "This is the field as it normally exists."
A holographic projection appeared, showing the recorded electromagnetic frequencies from the Zhang factory collapse sites.
Wei studied the data. The shifts weren't dramatic—but they were deliberate.
A ripple, small but consistent.
"This is the anomaly," Dr. Yao continued, overlaying a second graph.
A pulse of energy, almost imperceptible, appeared in every recorded incident.
And now, they were going to force it to happen.
"Start the environmental mimic," Wei ordered.
Dr. Yao nodded, activating the containment field.
The air in the testing zone hummed slightly, pressure subtly shifting.
Wei's eyes narrowed.
"Anything?"
Dr. Yao checked the readings. "There's… something."
Numbers flickered on the monitor. The shift was happening.
Not strong enough to cause a collapse.
But present.
Wei's fingers tapped against the console.
"Push it further."
A flicker of hesitation crossed Dr. Yao's face. Wei met his gaze, steady. No impatience. No pressure. Just certainty.
"Do it."
The containment field adjusted.
A subtle tension filled the air.
For a moment, nothing happened.
Then—
A faint hum.
Not from the machines. Not from the speakers. Something else.
Feng tensed. "Did you hear that?"
Wei's grip on the console tightened.
The hum deepened. The air in the chamber seemed to pull inward, like something invisible was breathing.
Dr. Yao's hands hovered over the emergency shutoff. "Sir—"
Then, all at once, the readings spiked.
A burst of electromagnetic fluctuation.
And then—silence.
Everything stilled.
Wei exhaled slowly, watching the numbers on the screen stabilize.
The pattern was there.
It could be recreated.
And if it could be recreated…
It could be predicted.
His mind sharpened, possibilities forming.
Could they anticipate the next collapse? Could they stop it?
The curse was no longer untouchable.
It was a system.
And systems could be broken. "We need another test," Wei said. "A stronger one."
Dr. Yao hesitated. "If we increase the power, we could—"
"I'm not interested in what we could do," Wei interrupted. "I'm interested in what we need to do."
Feng exhaled sharply. "You're really enjoying this, aren't you?"
Wei's lips curled into a smirk.
"Finally," he murmured, "something interesting."
...
Xinyi: Unraveling the Past, One Box at a Time
The silence of her apartment felt different tonight.
Not empty.
But waiting.
Xinyi stepped inside, closing the door behind her, setting her keys down with slow precision.
Her gaze immediately fell on the box.
It sat on her coffee table—unassuming, yet heavy with expectation.
She inhaled, steadying herself.
You fool… I loved you too.
Her father's letter had been the first blow. This was the second.
She removed the lid carefully, revealing stacks of old documents, notebooks, and photographs. Everything her father had hidden from her.
She sat down, slowly pulling out the first notebook.
The pages were filled with equations, notes, and—
Her breath caught.
A map.
The locations of every known collapse.
The pattern was clear.
And at the center of it?
A name.
Zhang.
Her fingers tightened around the edges of the notebook.
The Zhangs were involved.
She just didn't know how deep it went yet.