While Lin Huai was still studying the four buttons, the host issued an instruction: “First to appear is our first lucky contestant—the eliminated contestant number 37.”
The spotlight swiftly shifted to where number 37 was located. Inside the cage, a dark-skinned woman was bound to a chair, her eyes wide with terror as she stared ahead.
She wasn’t beautiful; in fact, she appeared bloated and ugly. Perhaps this was the reason she was eliminated.
Simultaneously illuminated by the spotlight was Eva, with her silver hair and green eyes. In stark contrast to Eva’s exquisite beauty, the woman seemed even more ugly and vulgar. The host grinned and continued, “Now, let’s have Eva press the button to determine the final fate of this potential criminal—”
“Mm, mm!”
The woman, with her mouth gagged, struggled restlessly. Her eyes bulged, and the straps binding her dug deep into her flesh.
However, all her resistance was futile against the rock-solid facility. Yet, the desire to live still drove her to make the greatest effort. Seeing her in such a pathetic state seemed to excite the audience even more.
“The online viewership has exceeded three million!” A roommate, glancing at the viewer count in the top right corner, exclaimed.
In the populous ancient Earth era, this number would have been insignificant. However, in the current underground greenhouse era, marked by countless wars and population reduction, this was indeed an astronomical figure. Countless people who had previously been indifferent to such events now entered the live broadcast, watching every move with either tension or curiosity.
They were either rule-following workers in their daily lives, or bored students wandering the streets, or those who were addicted to the internet and unable to extricate themselves, or even aspiring youths who still cared about the southern regions and news. It was hard to imagine that the usually gentle and courteous greenhouse residents would be interested in such scenes. Or perhaps, no matter how suppressed, the curiosity for blood and violence is always one of human nature. It doesn’t diminish with the definition of “potential criminal,” nor does it disappear in harsh environments.
“Three!”
Eva looked down at the four buttons.
“Two!”
The woman in the chair struggled wildly.
“One!”
The audience in front of their TVs held their breath.
Just before the final second elapsed, Eva pressed the slowly flashing blue button.
For a moment, the venue fell silent. The dark-skinned woman trembled and moved her teeth, almost sighing in relief as she found that nothing had happened to her.
‘Did I… survive?’ she thought with a mix of relief and luck.
However, the next moment, the host’s voice shattered her hopes like a hammer: “It seems our number 1, Eva, has chosen blue. Blue is the color of the sky in mythology, and also the color of her eyes. Let’s see what the blue button corresponds to in terms of execution methods.” As he spoke, he theatrically unfolded a piece of paper.
He frowned, his eyes lowered, as if he had seen something difficult to articulate on the paper. The audience momentarily forgot to speak, craning their necks and widening their eyes towards the stage, as if doing so would allow them to see the contents of the paper a step earlier.
For a moment, the only sounds in the venue were breathing and the barely restrained heartbeat.
“The corresponding execution method… turns out to be filling the glass cabinet with water!”
“Wow!”
A cheer erupted from the audience. Amidst the jubilant atmosphere, the woman, as if drained of strength, collapsed in her chair.
Meanwhile, dozens of kilometers away in the greenhouse capital, the 13th Governor was at his dining table, having his dinner.
His secretary, as usual, had the TV tuned to the Starlight News channel. Just as she was about to change the channel, the Governor’s voice came from behind her: “Stop.”
Puzzled, she stopped. The TV screen paused on the lively Starlight Entertainment channel. The image was a close-up of the glass cabinet, where the dark-skinned woman, after struggling fiercely, was finally paralyzed by the electrodes in her collar and gradually submerged by the water.
She frowned slightly, and noticing her expression, the Governor casually asked, “What do you think?”
“I find this quite un-greenhouse-like,” she cautiously replied, finally giving this answer.
As a woman who had grown up in high society, she truly didn’t understand the significance of such entertainment. However, the Governor behind her chuckled and shook his head.
“People need an outlet for their stress. In a place where sunlight and sky are lacking, yet there’s an extreme need for stress relief, dividing people into hierarchies is the best choice,” he said lightly. “Under extreme suppression, even without potential criminals, others with similar functions would emerge. And don’t you think they derive joy and satisfaction from this?”
“Joy and satisfaction?”
“The satisfaction of being superior to others, the satisfaction of releasing stress. Having something that allows them to shift their focus and comfortably release stress is a good thing,” the Governor smiled simply. “Keep watching.”
For some reason, the secretary felt a chill in her fingertips as she looked at the Governor she had always admired. During their conversation, the woman in the water tank’s struggles gradually weakened. She finally pushed her knees up in a last, unwilling effort, her hair floating like seaweed in the water.
The second Adam pressed the green button. After checking the paper, the host announced the penultimate punishment: death by excessive carbon dioxide inhalation. After the second-to-last contestant died from suffocation, the camera not only focused on the excited audience but also on the pale faces of the remaining potential criminals.
However, when the camera focused on Lin Huai’s face, the Governor in front of the TV made a sound of surprise. He turned to his secretary and asked, “What is this person doing?”
The secretary was also slightly puzzled.
Meanwhile, Dr. Lucifer below the stage looked smug. He stared at the glass cabinet on stage, where number 81 sat on the chair, head down, eyes half-closed, seemingly in deep despair. He shook his head mockingly, “He looks very scared… but, he has no way to escape. This cabinet is made of special material; even a shotgun couldn’t make a hole in it.”
Thinking this, he became even more smug: “So what if he’s usually so talkative? Seeing the current scene, isn’t he scared out of his wits?”
The viewers in front of their TVs were also greatly intrigued by the strange behavior of number 81, and they eagerly asked each other about his identity.
“Who is this person?”
“Number 81? The one who argued fiercely with the scholars?”
“Haha, is he scared by the death of his peers? Look at how he’s cowering, it’s so amusing.”
“More camera shots, more shots!”
“Give more shots to number 81,” the broadcasting staff was reminded. “It seems the audience is very eager to see his reaction.”
“I can’t wait to see number 81 press the button,” someone wrote enthusiastically in the comments. “Afraid of the death of his peers, yet having to be the executioner himself, this is like Shakespearean tragic beauty!”
Amidst the discussion, number 49 gradually died from suffocation. The camera then turned to number 13, who was crying from the previous two deaths, and number 72, who was still in the cage. Number 13’s face was still wet with tears, and she looked pitiful as she cried.
She seemed very reluctant to press the button and looked to the host for help. The host then reminded her, “If you don’t press the button, after the time is up, we will randomly choose an execution method!”
“Instead of leaving the decision to us, why not press a button yourself? At least, there’s a one in four chance of survival,” the host eagerly suggested.
But how much of this eagerness was out of concern for them, and how much was for the sake of the spectacle? That remains unknown.
After much urging, number 13 finally bit her lip and pressed the yellow button. After an exciting silence, the host revealed the paper: “The yellow light represents—” he said with regret, “being released from the glass cabinet.”
As his voice rang out, boos came from the audience. Along with the boos, numbers 13 and 72 showed expressions of relief.
After a series of eerie mechanical sounds, an opening appeared at the bottom of the glass cabinet containing number 72. The straps binding number 72 were released, and he fell through.
The secretary in front of the TV showed a slightly happy expression upon seeing this. The Governor, noticing her change in expression, made no comment but simply said, “Let’s wait and see.”
Meanwhile, the online viewership plummeted sharply. Countless netizens cursed the show and left the live broadcast.
“This…” the broadcasting staff looked at the person in charge, at a loss.
He was somewhat resentful of number 13’s choice in his heart; it seemed everyone preferred to see the spectacle of killing rather than the release of number 72. However, the person in charge smiled meaningfully.
“Don’t jump to conclusions,” she said with a smile. “The best part is yet to come.”
Amidst the undercurrents, the spotlight finally shone in Lin Huai’s direction.
“Alright, in the third round of fate decisions, number 13 successfully discovered the yellow button symbolizing ‘release.’ I suppose number 81’s choice will be the same,” the host said with exaggerated regret as he looked at number 81. “During the previous broadcast, we also noticed that number 81 has been very angry—now, let’s interview him about his feelings? Number 81, seeing your peer released, are you happy?”
As he spoke, he looked towards number 81. After the second person died, number 81, who had been fiercely kicking the glass cabinet, had calmed down. He sat on the chair as if drained of strength, head hanging.
The overhead light cast his entire face in the shadow of his hanging bangs.
—His shoulders were trembling—was it anger, sorrow, or fear?
—Could it be that he was crying?
Many viewers were filled with a malicious sense of anticipation.
