Weird Game: I brought an old version bug

The train traveled in the darkness for about ten minutes.

The lights in the carriage continued to flicker, and in the alternation of light and shadow, the passengers' faces continued to switch between fear and emptiness.

But Jiang Chen had already gotten used to this rhythm.

He sat by the window, holding the wildflower in his hand, gazing at the endless darkness outside.

Then, light appeared in the distance.

It wasn't the platform lighting; it was a cold, white light shining through the darkness, like the operating lights in an operating room.

The train slowed down and glided into a platform covered with white tiles.

There were no benches or electronic screens on the platform, only a huge mirror embedded in the wall at the end of the platform.

The mirror reflected the train, the lights in the carriage, and Jiang Chen's face.

But Jiang Chen noticed a detail: in the mirror, the corners of his mouth were turned up.

He himself showed no expression at that moment.

The train came to a complete stop, and the doors opened.

A cold wind blew across the platform, carrying the smell of disinfectant and rust.

Jiang Chen stood up, placed the wildflower on his seat, and then got off the train.

The train doors closed behind him, the train plunged into darkness, and he was left alone on the platform.

He walked up to the huge mirror and looked at himself in it.

The smile on his lips was still there in the mirror.

Then, the person in the mirror spoke.

"Welcome to the Mirror Hospital. Are you a new patient or a new doctor?"

Jiang Chen stared at himself in the mirror without saying a word.

He tilted his head in the mirror.

"Not going to answer? Then let me rephrase my question: Do you see yourself here to heal the illness, or to heal the person?"

Jiang Chen reached out and touched the mirror.

The mirror surface is cool, like ice.

The moment his fingertips touched the mirror, his reflection stretched out his hand, fingertips touching his.

Then, ripples appeared on the mirror, as if a pebble had been thrown into the water.

Jiang Chen's hand passed through the mirror.

He paused for a moment, then pulled his hand back.

The hand was intact, with a thin layer of transparent liquid, like water, on the fingertips.

But water won't cause ripples on the mirror.

He looked up at the end of the platform. There was a door there with a sign that read:

[Jingzhong Hospital - Inpatient Department]

Above the door hangs a mirror, reflecting the empty, white-lit corridor of the inpatient ward.

Jiang Chen pushed open the door and went inside.

The corridor is wide enough for two carts to pass side by side.

White walls, white floors, white ceilings, white lights—everything was blindingly white, as if I had stepped into a bleached world.

The corridor is lined with wards, each with a small mirror embedded in the door, just big enough to reflect a person's face.

As Jiang Chen passed the first ward, he glanced at himself in the mirror.

The person reflected in the mirror wasn't him, but an elderly man in a hospital gown, sitting on the bed, staring blankly ahead.

He turned to look into the ward, which was empty. There were no elderly people, no beds, only a dusty table.

But the old man in the mirror is still there.

In the mirror of the second ward, there was a little girl holding a rag doll.

The third room contained a middle-aged man receiving an IV drip.

The fourth room was empty, but the image in the mirror showed a person sitting in a wheelchair with their back to the door.

Each mirror reflects a person who doesn't exist in reality. And those people are all in motion.

Some people are flipping through books, some are getting injections, some are eating, and some are sleeping.

They were like real patients in this hospital, going through their daily routines day after day. Except, their lives existed only in the mirror.

Jiang Chen walked to the end of the corridor, where there was an even larger mirror that took up the entire wall.

The mirror reflects the hallway.

The same corridor, the same ward, the same white lights as behind him.

But in the corridor reflected in the mirror, there was a person standing.

A woman, wearing a white coat and a mask, was holding a medical record folder.

She was standing in the middle of the mirrored corridor, looking in Jiang Chen's direction.

Jiang Chen turned his head and looked behind him.

There was nothing behind him, only an empty corridor.

He turned back and looked at himself in the mirror.

The woman had already walked up to the mirror, and was only a pane of glass away from him.

She took off her mask, revealing a pretty face. She looked to be around thirty years old, with a calm gaze, the kind of composure typical of a doctor.

"Hello, I'm the doctor on duty here. You can call me Dr. Zhou."

Her voice came from the mirror, as if through a layer of water.

"You're a new patient, right?"

"I'm not a patient," Jiang Chen said.

Dr. Zhou smiled, a smile tinged with pity.

"Everyone who comes in here doesn't think they're a patient. But have you ever thought about why you're in a hospital if you're not a patient?"

She opened the medical record folder and read aloud:

Patient ID: 074.

Admission date: 7th day of Frost's Descent in the 47th year of the lunar calendar.

Admission diagnosis: Identity recognition disorder.

Clinical symptoms: Inability to confirm one's true identity, often blurring the lines between "self" and "mirror image".

Treatment plan: mirror-image contrast therapy.

Treatment course: Until the patient can accurately distinguish between the person in the mirror and the person outside the mirror.

As Jiang Chen listened to those words, he felt something was off in his mind.

"The 7th day of Frost's Descent in the 47th year of the lunar calendar? Is today the 47th year of the lunar calendar?"

"Of course."

Dr. Zhou looked puzzled.

"You can't even keep track of time? It seems your condition is more serious than I thought. Come with me, I'll take you to your ward."

She turned and walked along the corridor reflected in the mirror.

Jiang Chen watched her retreating figure, then looked at the mirror in front of him.

He reached out and touched the mirror; this time, the mirror did not ripple.

His hand was blocked as if it had touched ordinary glass.

Jiang Chen was stunned. He switched hands and touched the mirror again; it was still hard.

The mirror would no longer allow him to pass through.

Then, he saw a scene that sent chills down his spine.

Dr. Zhou in the mirror stopped and looked back at him.

But that "turning back" wasn't a turn; it was her entire being, like a piece of paper, flipping over from the mirror world.

She stepped out of the mirror and stood in front of Jiang Chen.

"It seems your condition is indeed quite serious."

She looked at Jiang Chen, her tone tinged with worry.

"I've even forgotten when I was admitted to the hospital. Your room is 302, I'll take you there."

Jiang Chen took a step back and gripped the dagger.

"You don't need to be nervous."

Dr. Zhou smiled and raised his hands to indicate that he meant no harm.

"I'm a doctor, not a bad person. Your illness isn't serious. As long as you can complete the mirror therapy, you'll be discharged soon."

But if you don't cooperate, you might have to stay here for a long time.

"If I cooperate, how long will the treatment take?"

"soon."

Dr. Zhou took a key out of his pocket and handed it to him.

"Room 302, you'll stay here tonight. Treatment will begin tomorrow morning. After the treatment, if you pass the tests, you can be discharged."

Jiang Chen took the key and glanced at the number on it—[302]

He walked down the corridor and found room 302.

The room was small, with a bed, a table, a chair, and a full-length mirror embedded in the wall. The mirror was very clean and reflected his entire body clearly.

He walked to the mirror and looked at himself.

The person in the mirror was also looking at him, with the same expression, the same eyes, and the same movements.

Everything seems to be normal.

But Jiang Chen did not let his guard down.

He recalled the orphanage director's suggestion—

At the mirror hospital, you can never be sure if the person in the mirror is actually yourself.

He stared at himself in the mirror for a long time, and then took a test.

He raised his left hand, and his reflection in the mirror also raised his left hand.

He lowered his left hand and raised his right.

In the mirror, he lowered his left hand and raised his right.

everything is normal.

But Jiang Chen felt that something was wrong.

He stared at his own eyes in the mirror for a long time, and then noticed the anomaly.

He is breathing in the mirror.

But his breathing rhythm was different from Jiang Chen's.

Jiang Chen held his breath.

He wasn't holding his breath in the mirror.

He was still breathing, his chest rising and falling steadily and evenly.

Jiang Chen took a step back and stared at "himself" in the mirror.

In the mirror, he also took a step back, but his movement was a fraction of a second slower than Jiang Chen's.

It's like a delay, like him in a mirror, mimicking his movements, but the speed of the imitation can't keep up with the real movements.

Jiang Chen gripped the dagger tightly.

"You are not me."

He smiled in the mirror.

That wasn't the kind of smile Jiang Chen would have; it was a smug, malicious smile.

"Of course I am not you. I am your mirror; I do whatever you do. Everything you see is me imitating you. But the problem is..."

He took a step forward in the mirror, his face almost touching the surface.

Are you sure that what you see of me now is really me imitating you? Or... is it you who has been imitating me from the very beginning?

Jiang Chen felt a chill run down his back.

He looked down at his hand; the hand holding the dagger was his right.

But he remembers that he is left-handed.

When did he start holding the knife with his right hand?

[System notification: Cognitive interference detected]

[Current instance rules: Identity swapped in the mirror]

If you see yourself in a mirror for more than 10 seconds, your identity will be swapped with your reflection.

[You have swapped 1 time]

[Remaining swap attempts: Unlimited]

[Warning: With each swap, you lose a part of your self-awareness.]

When the number of swaps reaches a critical point, you will no longer be able to tell who you really are.