Chapter 60: Death Platform
The day she met Lin Lin, the weather was nice.
Yuncheng is not a tourism city, and even during holidays, there aren’t many people.
They agreed to meet in the city center, and the old Yuncheng city center hadn’t changed much from before.
Even though they hadn’t seen each other for a while, Lu Jinzhao spotted Lin Lin’s figure in the crowd at first glance.
Why Miss Popular is Miss Popular, besides her personality, there’s naturally one big reason: she’s pretty.
Her delicate features, fragile body, soft tone when speaking, and focused gaze when looking at you—people her age can’t resist her charm.
Good-looking kids will definitely realize they’re good-looking, let alone Lin Lin, who is not only pretty but also smart enough.
After not seeing each other for so long, the sickly look on her face had almost disappeared, and perhaps because of that, she stood out even more in the crowd.
Lu Jinzhao could spot her at a glance, and she found Lu Jinzhao right away too.
Compared to Lu Jinzhao, Lin Lin’s personality was clearly more outgoing. The moment she saw Lu Jinzhao, she tiptoed slightly, raised both hands, and waved toward her.
It was an exaggerated gesture, but on Lin Lin, it was cute rather than flashy.
She lowered her hands and ran toward Lu Jinzhao. When she got close, Lu Jinzhao saw her slightly flushed face, her arms no longer skinny but with particularly healthy lines. Before she could marvel at how much better Lin Lin was doing now, she was enveloped in a tight hug.
“Chao Chao! I missed you so much!”
This from Miss Popular, who hadn’t replied to her messages.
After the hug, Lin Lin let go and pulled her around, looking her up and down: “Chao Chao, did you not rest well?”
“Why do you look even more tired than me!”
Lu Jinzhao sighed: “Yes, I’m surprised too. You look”
“How? Full of energy, right!”
“Too full of energy. I feel like standing next to you makes me at least five years older.”
“Hey? How can you say that!”
The two bantered back and forth without any awkwardness.
Lin Lin dragged Lu Jinzhao shopping with her for two hours, buying a bunch of small accessories—Lin Lin seemed to have a special fondness for these things.
Throughout, she kept complaining about trivial matters at school, while Lu Jinzhao, as always, didn’t say much but responded from time to time.
Midway, Lin Lin suddenly said: “What about you, Chao Chao? Have you made any new friends at university?”
Lu Jinzhao shook her head: “No, I don’t have time to make friends. I have my own things to do.”
“Hey? So cold!”
“But that’s you, always have been.”
In Lin Lin’s impression, Lu Jinzhao always had an indescribable detachment toward people and things—seeming gentle and polite, but always feeling like she didn’t care much about anything.
She had friends, even good ones, and was popular in class, but Lin Lin knew that once high school was over, Lu Jinzhao wouldn’t keep in touch with them.
And that was indeed the case.
“You’re so lucky. With you, Chao Chao, it feels like you’d do well anywhere.”
“Aren’t you doing well?” Lu Jinzhao keenly picked up on the subtle emotion in Lin Lin’s words.
“Much better now.” Lin Lin hesitated for a moment: “When I first got there, it was unfamiliar territory, I didn’t know anything, and with my health being poor, it was tough for a while.”
She spoke vaguely, probably not wanting to worry anyone.
“Don’t worry, am I someone who can be bullied?” Lin Lin laughed again, revealing two sharp little tiger teeth.
“Anyone who bullied me has already been dealt with.”
That was true—despite looking like a soft and weak little princess, she was actually quite vindictive.
“You really haven’t changed at all.” Lu Jinzhao said with a smile.
Hearing this, Lin Lin turned to look at Lu Jinzhao and said seriously: “That’s great. You haven’t changed either, Chao Chao. I was afraid you wouldn’t want to talk to me anymore.”
Lu Jinzhao shook her head slightly, about to say something, when Lin Lin suddenly looked at her watch and said a bit anxiously:
“Hey? Time’s almost up.”
“Chao Chao, I have dinner plans with someone tonight, so I gotta go!”
Lu Jinzhao was stunned for a moment, then nodded: “Okay, go ahead.”
She wondered if Lin Lin had any other friends in Yuncheng who were more important than her.
Classmates from high school?
But she didn’t ask.
Back at school, Lu Jinzhao handled her dormitory checkout. Sure enough, something not normally allowed was accommodated for her.
She’d already found a house to rent—more expensive, but good location.
After moving out of the dormitory, Lu Jinzhao didn’t say goodbye to her roommate, because she knew it didn’t matter; her roommates would forget her in the days ahead, as if she and Lin Zhao had never existed in that dormitory.
Lu Jinzhao felt a bit sentimental for a moment, then turned on her computer and logged into the forum.
Normally, she first searched the forum for Lin Zhao’s name—still nothing—before clicking on the homepage to browse casually.
Even though Yuncheng had few passengers, the forum had fresh posts every day—sometimes just idle chat, but mostly about trains and platform missions, and passenger-related topics.
Thanks to the forum, Lu Jinzhao had learned about many high-level passengers’ names and personalities.
She also knew the unspoken rules: if passengers “kill each other” in the real world, the killer’s next instance would definitely have upgraded difficulty.
Even “hiring a hitman” would make the instigator and killer share the karmic consequences.
This was a protection measure—not airtight, but enough to suppress the passengers.
No one wanted to face higher-difficulty instances; surviving at the current level was already all they could muster.
Besides that, today’s forum had revealed something even more intriguing to Lu Jinzhao.
[Rumor has it, a new death notice.]
When Lu Jinzhao saw this title, she didn’t yet understand, but after clicking in and reading the forum members’ discussion, she slowly got it.
[Death notice] was shorthand for the omen of a special platform’s appearance.
Special platforms had another nickname among passengers: [death platform], because their difficulty was “no return,” and they were extremely rare.
Even special class passengers struggled to guarantee survival after entering.
Whenever a death platform appeared, the train would give a preview exactly one month in advance, alerting all special class passengers that it was coming.
And death platforms were among the few that repeated.
Like a horror movie—most platforms had only one installment, while high-level platforms were like blockbusters with sequels.
As for death platforms, they almost always had “sequels.”
However, high risk meant high reward; rumor was, surviving a death platform brought passengers unimaginable benefits.
What those were, no special class had revealed.
Normally, special class passengers went in and out of [A]-level platforms, but that didn’t mean they could easily survive them—[A] was already the most dangerous tier among regular platforms.
[Death platform] was exceedingly rare; whenever it appeared, the surviving special class passengers would gather to discuss strategies.
Unfortunately, that preview seemed visible only to special class, and the forum had no leaks on what kind of platform it was.
All they knew was that every time it appeared, powerful passengers would fall.
