The city under the pandemic had fallen into an eerie stillness. The streets were empty and silent, traffic lights flickering fruitlessly back and forth, and only epidemic prevention announcements blared in a loop at every intersection. Most windows of residential buildings were tightly closed; occasionally, a crack would open, spilling a hint of human warmth before slamming shut again. A cordon stretched at the community gate, where volunteers in protective gear stood guard under tents, checking identity cards, health codes, and nucleic acid test reports, registering every person entering or leaving. Life had been reduced to nucleic acid tests, group purchases, and waiting, day in and day out. People gradually grew accustomed to pacing within a small space, peeking at the world through their phone screens, and speculating about distant places in silence. This lockdown had become a normalcy, a transparent cocoon wrapping everyone alike—visible to one another, yet utterly isolated.
It was in this silence that an anomalous energy spike suddenly surged on the biological signal monitoring map at the city's southwest corner, breaking through all known human physiological thresholds.
Outside the window, a new round of static management notice flooded the community group chat, and the smell of disinfectant once again permeated the still air.
A line of cold text flashed before Han Che's eyes: "Mixed group nucleic acid test anomaly in Building 3, Unit 2, Xingfu Lane. All residents must stay indoors and wait for door-to-door nucleic acid testing." Like a key, this line of words instantly unlocked a sealed command library deep within his genes.
"Find it."
—not a sound, not words, but a bioelectric pulse that transcended physical distance, radiating outward from him to the entire city.
Almost at the same moment, the other six received the same command—"Find it."
The biological connection named "Closed Loop" had, at this moment, completed its final reinforcement.
Seven people—Han Che, Feng Jian, Yan Zhi, Hu Ping, Jia Ming, Gu Ying, Wen Qing—were all seized by the same primal summons, rooted in a viral instinct.
The destination was clear: a vague yet abnormally strong coordinate at the city's southwest corner.
The goal was singular: Gather.
Like scattered neurons pulled by an invisible force, they all converged toward a single central node.
Against the grim backdrop of static management, the seven individuals each used their own wits to escape their respective isolation zones. Yet none managed to slip through the epidemic prevention net. Almost simultaneously, they were all forced into the "Xingfu Mobile Cabin Hospital", converted from an abandoned gymnasium.
The pale LED lights were dazzlingly harsh, and the air reeked of inferior disinfectant and old sweat. A few camp beds lined the wall, scattered with plastic stools beside them, and a stainless steel trash can reeking of odor stood nearby. Beyond the thick frosted glass door, figures in protective suits darted past, and a loudspeaker looped epidemic prevention regulations.
The moment Gu Ying stepped in, she darted for the darkest corner, wrapping herself and her cat tightly in a quilt, pressing her back against the wall and curling into the smallest possible ball.
Jia Ming scanned his surroundings, and a grateful smile spread across his face at once: "Friends! The conditions here are actually pretty good! Thanks to the organization for their care!"
Against the oppressive atmosphere, conflict soon erupted. Faced with lukewarm meals, Hu Ping complained that the meat was paper-thin, while Wen Qing felt nauseous. Han Che analyzed the nutritional content calmly and said, "Complaining is energy-consuming and yields negative efficiency." Wen Qing slammed down her chopsticks: "Are cold numbers all you care about?" Jia Ming immediately stepped in to smooth things over: "We must be grateful! The organization has done its best!" Hu Ping fell silent. Yan Zhi closed his eyes tightly, as if catching another glimpse of some hidden truth of the world.
In just three days, confined together in the enclosed space, a trans-individual "synchronization" sprouted quietly—
Physiological Synchronization: One morning, all seven were jolted awake by violent coughing at almost the same millisecond. Their coughing rhythms and frequencies were eerily identical, as if emanating from a single chest.
Shared Pain: When Jia Ming stubbed his toe, the searing pain had barely registered before it triggered a reaction in Yan Zhi, Hu Ping, even Han Che. Even Gu Ying's cat let out an inexplicable scream, staring warily at them.
Pheromone Response: Every time the dining cart rumbled, the seven would all stop what they were doing simultaneously, turning in unison toward the door—their silent gazes making the "big white" volunteers outside feel a tightness in their chests.
Collective Consciousness: The command "Find it" was no longer an individual obsession, but a low, constant hum resonating deep within the consciousness of all seven. As the hum grew louder, their breathing, heartbeats, and even the points where their eyes unfocused would align.
Han Che's rational mind raced to construct a new model: this was not a simple collection of individuals, but a "quasi-life form" in the process of distorted fusion. He named it the Ouroboros System—after the serpent that devours its own tail, a symbol of closed loop and symbiosis.
Yet it was Gu Ying who was the first to break down.
That afternoon, the dining cart rumbled again, and the seven turned in unison. The moment the movement ended, Gu Ying began to tremble violently, her quilt rippling like a high-pressure chamber. She could clearly "taste" Han Che's cold calculations, "smell" the fake sweat on Jia Ming's body, "feel" the icy despair deep in Wen Qing's heart... Seven pairs of senses, seven kinds of emotions, crashed over her like a flood, breaking down her psychological barriers.
"No... No..." she whimpered, on the verge of death. She threw back the quilt, her pupils dilating to the limit in terror.
"Stop! H-How did we become one person? Let me out!"
Her piercing scream pierced the oppressive air, shattering the illusion of "individual independence" in everyone's hearts.
Han Che's sharp gaze shot toward Gu Ying. The model in his mind, infused with her sensory data, confirmed the depth of the fusion.
Feng Jian repeated blankly: "The seven of us... have become... one person?"
Yan Zhi closed his eyes in pain. This time, what he was forced to "see" was no longer seven individuals, but a writhing, distorted collective consciousness—something inhuman, glowing with a cold command, writhing in pain.
Hu Ping let out a shrill scream: "There are seven people!" Her voice trembled, filled with the fear of refusing to acknowledge the truth.
The smile on Jia Ming's face froze completely. The pretense of "individuals overcoming difficulties together" was torn to shreds.
Wen Qing felt a coldness seep into her bones—Gu Ying's scream was the echo of a fear hidden deep in her own heart.
The most direct proof came from Gu Ying's cat. It let out a pitiful howl, scratching frantically to break free, its fur standing on end, its back arched and trembling, shrinking into the farthest corner. In its amber pupils, it no longer saw seven people, but a terrifying, inhuman entity—
The Life Union Ouroboros was officially born at this moment.
It was not human, yet its origin lay in humanity; it possessed seven bodies, yet shared a loose collective consciousness and synchronized physiological state.
The summons to "Find it" boomed like a drum in the seven resonating hearts, thudding dull and stubbornly.
Who was it?