Chapter 2 Campus Haunts and Rules (1)

Suddenly, the scene before my eyes shifts rapidly, leaving me dizzy. When I open my eyes again, I am back on the school’s track field.

The sun gently bathes the field in golden light through scattered clouds. A breeze stirs the leaves, creating a soft rustling sound. Students are scattered across the field, some chatting leisurely, others lost in their own worlds of books. The scene is harmonious and peaceful.

Overjoyed at this familiar sight, I look around at my school mates, who are also visibly happy. “Where is this? Why does it feel so creepy despite the bright sunshine?” Bai-Wan wraps his arms around himself, instinctively seeking comfort. “This is Y University’s new campus. Legend has it that about four hundred years ago, this area was a noble’s estate. After a slave uprising overthrew the brutal nobility, it became a mass burial ground. Since then, people have reported hearing weeping sounds here, supposedly the wails of the noble family’s ghosts. Later, Y University bought the land for its low price to build this new campus. It’s said that when the new campus was first built, someone saw a ghost in a mirror of one of the buildings. So the university authorities had all mirrors in that building removed,” I explain. Hearing this, Bai-Wan’s face turns even paler. I quickly add, “But you don’t need to worry. I’ve been studying here for two years, and it’s very safe…”

Before I can finish, the mechanical voice rings out again from the sky. “Players, welcome to the first challenge of ‘Fatal Escape: The Ultimate Survival Challenge’—Campus Haunts and Rules. You have one week to escape Y University. Remember, in this place, following the rules is the only law of survival.” Simultaneously, a huge prompt appears in the sky: “Fatal Escape” Challenge One Objective: Leave Y University Time Limit: 7 days Welcome to Y University. Please adhere to the following rules:

1. Attend classes according to the timetable; no skipping. 2. All requests made by the professor must be fulfilled. 3. All classroom assessments are conducted in pairs. The team with the lowest score in each assessment will be eliminated. 4. There are no mirrors in any building of Y University. If you see a mirror, immediately destroy it. 5. Curfew is from 11 PM to 6 AM. You must stay in your dorm and cannot open the door during curfew. 6. The campus gates are only open on weekends. A pass is required to enter or exit.

Everyone suddenly finds a timetable in their hand. My schedule is not too busy: three calculus classes, two microeconomics classes, and one boxing class a week. Bai-Wan and I check each other’s timetables; they are identical, meaning we will have to stick together. Bai-Wan checks his vintage phone: “It says it’s 8 PM, but it’s clearly daylight. Time here doesn’t sync with the real world.” I check my phone too. Oddly, it shows 7 PM. Are Bai-Wan and I in different time zones? Remembering a display at the entrance to the track field, I drag Bai-Wan there. It reads, “September 20th, Friday, 10:26 AM.” At Y University, the first and second morning classes run from 8:30 AM to 10:10 AM, and the third and fourth from 10:30 AM to 12:10 PM. My timetable reminds me I have microeconomics on Friday mornings during the third and fourth periods. Without a moment to waste, I grab Bai-Wan’s hand and sprint towards the academic building. Luckily, my two years at Y University have made me familiar with the campus, and we burst into the classroom just as the bell rings. As the bell stops ringing, the familiar mechanical voice announces, “Players 6, 8, 13, 48, and 52 are absent. According to the game rules, you will be eliminated.” Screams echo from outside the classroom. The professor, expressionless, closes the door, blocking out the screams, and begins the lecture. “So let’s start with a review of the supply and demand framework that we introduced in the previous lecture…” I struggle to stay awake. It is not that I do not want to listen; it is just that I cannot understand. As an information technology major, economics might as well be written in an alien language. Suddenly, the professor taps the desk, “No sleeping.” Rule number 2: “All requests made by the professor must be fulfilled.” Looks like sleep is off the table. I straighten up, resting my chin on my hand, and turn to Bai-Wan. He sits upright, holding the high-end custom pen he brought with him through time, his gaze fixed intently on the whiteboard. His brow is slightly furrowed, the sunlight casting his features in sharp relief, as if he were a perfectly sculpted statue. Truly, the only CEO in the beauty industry, and the only beauty in the CEO industry. His face alone is enough to dispel any drowsiness. Since the professor only said no sleeping, not that we must listen, I decide to spend the class admiring his face. “…please answer this question.” Bai-Wan suddenly nudges me with his foot. I am about to scold him when I see his urgent expression, silently gesturing towards the professor with his eyes. I am puzzled, “Are your eyes twitching?” He does not answer, instead stomping on my foot again while gesturing towards the professor with his eyes. I finally turn to the professor, noticing he’s pointing at me with his teaching stick, clearly angry. It turns out he had called on me to answer a question. Why Bai-Wan chose to signal with his eyes instead of whispering is beyond me. Maybe good students never whisper in class? I quickly stand up, “Sorry, professor, my foot hurt, and I couldn’t stand up right away.” The professor’s expression softens, and he points to the screen, “Answer this question.” I look at the screen to see a question: Given the price of good X is $10 per unit and good Y is $3 per unit, and assuming a consumer has $100, he plans to buy 7 units of X and 10 units of Y. At this point, the marginal utilities of goods X and Y are 50 and 18, respectively. To maximize utility, he should:

A) Stop purchasing B) Buy more of Y and less of X C) Increase the purchase of both X and Y D) Buy less of Y and more of X Although I am clueless, my partner here must know. I glance at Bai-Wan, who silently raises two fingers. I get the hint, “B.” The professor nods, but then demands, “Explain your reasoning.” How could I possibly explain? Perhaps I could just make something up; fulfilling the professor’s request without breaking the rules, right? As if reading my thoughts, the professor, who looks to be in his sixties, suddenly lets out a childlike giggle, his mouth stretches unnaturally wide, distorting his face into a grotesque mask of glee, “Making things up will be punished.” The sound chills the marrow of my bones, and cold sweat runs down my face. Unable to think of an answer, I stall, “Professor… I need a moment to think… to organize my thoughts…” The professor does not stop me, seemingly granting permission. Y University does not allow classes to run over. Theoretically, as long as I make it to the end of class, the crisis is averted. But with about half an hour left, would the professor let me ponder that long? Just then, Bai-Wan tugs at my sleeve. I look at him to find he has removed his suit jacket, revealing a shirt sleeve covered in dense formulas. They are the solution to the problem. After reading the formulas, the professor finally waves me to sit down.