Chen Ke's gaze shifted to the TV screen.
No more chatting in the group chat — 'Steins;Gate' Episode 5 had begun.
After a three-week delay, the much-awaited "Hacking to the Gate" opening theme finally appeared, now with an official Great Zhou–language translation.
Its lyrics carried a solemn, almost tragic tone.
And the mood fit the show perfectly.
As the opening theme faded, 'Steins;Gate's Episode 5 rating officially broke the 3% mark.
Meanwhile, Huanshi TV's 'You, Beneath the Cliff' hovered at 6.8%.
Across Great Zhou's major TV networks, both numbers — 'Steins;Gate' starting unusually high and 'You, Beneath the Cliff' starting unusually low — were being tracked in real time.
Industry insiders couldn't help but see a pattern:
One show's rise.
Another slight dip.
Could the two be connected?
The story picked up right where Episode 4 had left off:
Okabe had used the upgraded Phone Microwave — no longer just sending texts, but transferring his memory, his consciousness, his soul back into his past body just hours earlier.
"I've done it… Time jump successful!"
Chen Ke thought the premise was ridiculous — a phone plus a microwave plus a computer plus headphones equals time travel?
It practically begged to be mocked.
But the writing… the execution… was brilliant.
Accept the premise, and the story just gripped you.
And the rules were merciless:
Only Okabe could use the device and still retain his memories.
Anyone else who tried would forget their previous worldline the moment it changed — simply becoming a new self in the new timeline, bound to its causality.
Without memories of the "previous" world, the device was uncontrollable.
A gift turned curse.
Take Ruka, for example — changed from male to female but lost all memory of ever being male.
Or Faris — saved her father's life ten years ago, but became a completely different person in the new worldline.
Imagine Okabe used the machine to stop his mother from being killed by a mugger ten years ago. In the new worldline, growing up with his mother's love, would he still be the same outlaw shaped by grief? The same soul inside the same body?
It was a terrifying thought.
Change the past, and you risk erasing your own essence.
No matter how "beautiful" the altered world, the "you" who wanted it might no longer exist.
Thus, Okabe — the lone worldline observer — was the only man who could truly master the Phone Microwave.
And that was the show's hidden power.
Beyond its intricate, tightly woven plot, it pushed viewers to wrestle with heavy questions: identity, causality, and the meaning of existence.
Chen Ke shook off his thoughts.
Onscreen, Okabe had jumped back a few hours.
Second loop.
He dismissed the other lab members and went straight to find Mayuri.
He had to prevent Moeka from killing her.
He had to escape with her.
"There's no time," Okabe said, anguish etched on his face.
"I'll explain later. Just come with me."
At the train station, though, fate struck again.
A sudden service disruption left their escape route cut off.
SERN's agents cornered them at gunpoint.
He grabbed Mayuri and ran — but then:
A flash of blinding headlights.
Moeka's car came barreling in.
Mayuri was struck and killed.
Okabe's face twisted in horror.
Five short hours.
Two brutal deaths of his dearest friend.
Chen Ke was stunned.
Huh? Again?
You're the protagonist — how are you failing even with time travel?
Okabe staggered back to the lab, fired up the upgraded Phone Microwave, and jumped again.
Third loop.
He buried his grief and dismissed the team once more.
Save Mayuri.
Save Mayuri.
Save Mayuri.
He said nothing aloud, but Jing Yu's eyes and expressions as Zhou Gang conveyed his obsession to every viewer.
This time, he outsmarted SERN's surveillance and brought Mayuri to the station safely.
But then—
"Ah, le, Mayuri's pocket watch… it stopped again…"
The same words she'd spoken before she died the first loop, now repeated in the third.
Like a curse.
Out of nowhere, Mr. Braun's little daughter from the downstairs electronics shop tripped and bumped into Mayuri.
The train rolled in.
It wasn't Moeka this time — it was "just" an accident.
Mayuri tumbled onto the tracks.
The screech of steel.
A blur of red.
Her body was shattered beneath the train.
Chen Ke's jaw dropped.
So did the jaws of countless viewers across the country.
What is this show?!
Three deaths.
Gunshot.
Car crash.
Train accident.
Even the first two could be blamed on Moeka.
But the third? A freak accident?
Protagonist, are you useless?
And then the pattern deepened:
Third loop.
Fourth loop.
Fifth.
Tenth.
No matter how many times Okabe went back…
No matter how many times he altered the timeline…
Mayuri always died.
Gunshot.
Car.
Train.
Plane crash.
Banana peel.
Knife attack.
Shock-induced heart failure.
You name it.
She died from it.
And every time, the moment approached:
"Ah, le, Mayuri's pocket watch… it stopped again…"
The line had become a death knell — a harbinger.
Imagine seeing your most cherished friend die once. You'd break down, right?
Now imagine seeing it dozens of times.
You know it's coming. You can't stop it.
No matter what you do, she dies.
Her death feels preordained.
What would you do?
Would you give up?
Or, like Okabe, would you jump back again, and again, and again — enduring the nightmare to find even a sliver of hope to save her?
The atmosphere of the show turned suffocating.
Chen Ke's fists clenched without realizing.
In the 'Steins;Gate' fan groups, even the most chatty fans had gone silent.
Everyone was transfixed.
Eyes unblinking, afraid to miss a single frame.
The rating crept up to 3.54%.
Meanwhile, 'You, Beneath the Cliff' had just broken 7% — but at the same point last week, Episode 2 had been at 7.2% already.
Jing Yu's performance as Okabe radiated mental collapse.
This was a man who had lived the same night dozens, maybe hundreds of times.
Every time, he prepared a new plan to save Mayuri.
Every time, he failed.
Physically, maybe he wasn't tired.
But mentally?
Within just a few hundred hours, without eating, sleeping, or resting, he'd watched his closest friend die in front of him — over and over.
Chen Ke took a deep breath.
The weight of the show pressed on his chest.
This had started as a lighthearted, quirky science-life drama.
Episode 4 had shocked with Mayuri's first death.
But Episode 5 multiplied that despair tenfold.
Cruel.
Heartbreaking.
And yet… he couldn't look away.
Just as Okabe couldn't stop jumping back in time until he saved Mayuri, Chen Ke couldn't stop watching.
If Mayuri couldn't be saved, then he, too, couldn't stop.
Judged purely by single-episode quality, Chen Ke thought, Episode 5 of 'Steins;Gate' was the best thing he'd seen all summer.
His heart was hooked.