The horror-movie marathon was immediately put on emergency hold.
Qin Shu unplugged the computer tower outright, making sure they could not be dragged into some inexplicable story again.
Then he pulled Pei Zhao downstairs, grabbed two cold drinks from the kitchen, and sat with him on the sofa by the window, choosing the corner where the sunlight was brightest.
The midday sun in deep winter was brilliant and pleasantly warm, heating their clothes with a gentle coziness without making them hot or restless.
Yet the adrenaline in Qin Shu’s body was still running through the final stretch of its cycle. There was too much in his head, all of it tangled together, and his entire body remained locked in an intensely focused state of tension. He kept wanting to do something more, anything that would ensure the safe environment before him could not suddenly be shattered by another accident.
His body kept screaming, Keep fighting, while reason told him he needed to calm down and think carefully before he started behaving like a lunatic.
Qin Shu tried downing an ice-cold cola in one go. It did absolutely nothing, so he could not resist burying his face in Pei Zhao’s palm again, letting that cool, familiar touch envelop him and bring his temperature down.
“Phew…”
Extremely effective.
The panic was not going to disappear completely all at once, so he might as well begin by sorting through what they already knew.
First, there was the horror movie they had watched today.
Strange Happenings in Water Village was an obscure old horror film that had premiered thirty years ago, based on a real case from thirty-three years earlier.
The director had been a complete unknown, and none of the actors had been particularly famous either, so the film had performed terribly at the box office and never circulated very widely.
Qin Shu had chosen it because edited clips from Strange Happenings in Water Village had unexpectedly gone viral online recently.
The reason for its sudden popularity was almost comically dramatic. A gaming streamer had been trying out a newly released indie horror game when he gradually realized that the game appeared to have plagiarized Strange Happenings in Water Village, a movie he happened to have seen before. The plot was practically copied and pasted wholesale, right down to the character names and costume designs.
Furious, the streamer made an entire comparison video condemning the game for plagiarism. He had an enormous following, and the old movie consequently became popular along with the controversy.
Qin Shu had already seen plenty of edited clips online and had been eagerly saving the full movie to watch with Pei Zhao. Chinese popular music had been at a high point when the film was made, so the soundtrack choices were excellent, the folk-horror atmosphere had clearly been crafted with care, and the costumes and styling were impressively detailed… It seemed perfect for slowly savoring over the New Year’s Day holiday.
No matter how thoroughly Qin Shu might have planned, however, he could never have anticipated being dragged into the movie’s world himself. While suffering complete amnesia, he had been pushed along by Pei Zhao and forced to complete one of the plotlines in Strange Happenings in Water Village. In retrospect, it had actually been extraordinarily dangerous.
That was because “Kan Kan” was not the protagonist… Just as Pei Zhao had told him in Living Water Village, the real Kan Kan had already died. Qin Shu himself had played the evil spirit that descended upon the village and disguised itself as Kan Kan.
The thought nearly made Qin Shu laugh from sheer irritation. I’m already a high school senior. I barely have any free time to begin with! I just wanted to watch a movie and enjoy myself—how did I end up becoming the evil spirit? Give me a break!
As for how the rest of the film unfolded, Qin Shu still was not entirely sure. At this moment, though, he was more curious than ever to know exactly what the hell had been going on.
He immediately pulled out his phone and searched for a plot summary of Strange Happenings in Water Village. While doing so, he wriggled around until he found a more comfortable position, then flopped backward and rested his head comfortably on Pei Zhao’s lap.
His stiff neck relaxed a little, but as Qin Shu read the synopsis on his screen, he suddenly paused. “Zhaozhao, come to think of it… did you already know the plot of this movie?”
“Mm.” Pei Zhao pressed the cold cola can in his hand against Qin Shu’s cheek on purpose, chilling him as he replied gloomily, “Fortunately, I did.”
“Hiss. Cold… Why didn’t you ask me to pick something you hadn’t seen? I thought we were already close enough that you could ask me for whatever you wanted.” Qin Shu could not help grumbling. “The best part of this kind of movie is the big plot twist. If you already knew everything that was going to happen, wasn’t sitting through two whole hours with me boring?”
“Every movie is boring to me. I just like…” Pei Zhao abruptly stopped. After a brief pause, he carefully changed his wording. “I like the atmosphere when I watch movies with you.”
“Oh. So that’s… cough. Mm.”
Qin Shu stared blankly for a moment. Looking up into those calm, pale-golden eyes, he stammered as though he wanted to say something, yet somehow failed to produce a single complete sentence.
His thoughts had been kneaded into a hopeless ball of tangled yarn. No matter what he did, he could neither straighten them out nor untie them.
The living room remained inexplicably quiet for a while. Qin Shu stared up at Pei Zhao’s beautiful features, so exquisite they looked as though Nüwa herself had carefully drawn every line, and then abruptly began to marvel at them.
Elio’s Notes: Nüwa is an ancient Chinese creator goddess traditionally credited with fashioning humankind. Comparing someone’s features to Nüwa’s handiwork is a poetic way of saying they are exceptionally beautiful.
“You even look good from down here. People always call this the ultimate unflattering angle, but clearly they’re wrong. Zhaozhao, how did you manage to have no bad angles from any direction? Seriously, my New Year’s resolution is to feed you until you get a double chin. I refuse to be the only one who gets fat.”
Pei Zhao: “…”
“You haven’t finished reviewing the plot. Continue.” Pei Zhao remained expressionless, ignored the inexplicable New Year’s resolution entirely, and calmly changed the subject.
“All right, all right. Let me see…” Qin Shu laughed and picked up his phone again.
From the perspective of the movie itself, the events formed an entirely different and deeply unsettling horror story.
The protagonist, Liu Yang Yang, was an ordinary young man from a major city. After a boating accident threw him into the sea and left him unconscious, he eventually washed ashore on the beach of an unfamiliar fishing village.
The first person he encountered was the evil spirit disguised as a villager. What Liu Yang Yang did not know was that the villagers were desperately trying to summon the power of their “ancestor ghosts” and “ancestral deity” to drive the evil spirit away.
Elio’s Notes: The film’s ancestral deity refers to a protective supernatural being invoked through the village’s local ancestral beliefs. Within the ghost-domain version of the story, Pei Zhao fills this role.
Deceived and bewitched by the evil spirit’s kindhearted disguise, Liu Yang Yang instead concluded that the evil spirit was being persecuted by ignorant villagers. Filled with righteous indignation, he resolved to help the poor, “helpless young man” escape the backward fishing village steeped in superstition.
The righteous Liu Yang Yang therefore came up with a plan. He disguised himself as Peddler Liu, a traveling merchant, and infiltrated Living Water Village to investigate and collect information.
He dealt with the strangely behaving, visibly frightened villagers, each side probing the other as he continuously searched for the truth. Along the way, clashes in their beliefs even led to the villagers surrounding and attacking him before locking him inside a cold, abandoned wooden house. The entire sequence was thrilling, nerve-racking, and deeply bizarre…
Only near the end did the truth finally emerge. By then, however, the evil spirit had already completely destroyed the villagers’ ancestral burial cave, wiping out their last means of protecting themselves. Peddler Liu, bitterly regretting his mistake, could do nothing to reverse the situation. He rushed deep into the mountain, only to witness the evil spirit’s horrifying “true form” with his own eyes.
Overcome with terror, he watched helplessly as the evil spirit revealed a grotesque, twisted smile, and let out the final desperate scream of his life.
Accompanied by ominous supernatural music, the screen abruptly went black—
The End.
“…Zhaozhao, that must have been exhausting. Thank goodness you thought of completing the story to get us out.” Qin Shu paused. “So you were the ancestral deity the villagers kept talking about, right?”
“Yes. Liu Yang Yang and I both retained our memories. You were the only one who lost yours. If he had known the plot too, we could have gotten out even faster.”
“Forget it. Relying on him is worse than relying on you. The guy had all his memories and still washed ashore completely naked and panicking even harder than I was.”
Remembering Liu Yang Yang’s miserable state, Qin Shu could not help laughing. “Still, that’s good news. At least today I confirmed that Liu Yang Yang definitely isn’t dead. According to Daoist Xu, as long as he survives, he’ll only become stronger. Now I can finally sleep a little easier.”
Pei Zhao considered this. “Should we contact him?”
“His phone is still with me, so there’s no way to reach him directly. I’ll tell his relatives in Yuncheng that he’s safe. They’ll probably be able to find someone faster.” Qin Shu sighed contentedly. “Our Zhaozhao really is the most reliable. It’s so reassuring… Even when I had no memories, I still felt like I could trust you completely.”
Although everything was safe now, Qin Shu was actually still badly shaken. As he spoke, he wrapped both arms around Pei Zhao’s waist, buried his face against his stomach, and took a deep breath.
“What would I even do without you? Seriously… thank goodness you were there.”
If Pei Zhao’s role had not been equivalent to that of a deity, granting him an exceptionally authoritative position within the story, moving the plot forward would not have been nearly so easy.
If the Gui Gong’s ritual had succeeded in summoning the real thing instead, that would have been truly troublesome. Qin Shu still had no idea whether he could have beaten such an entity. Just imagining it was frightening.
While Qin Shu immersed himself in his lingering fear, Pei Zhao’s expression grew increasingly stiff, and the waist being tightly hugged quietly tensed beneath Qin Shu’s arms. “…Enough. Let go.”
“Wait a little longer. Let me hug you for a bit more.” Qin Shu’s muffled voice drifted up without his head moving.
Pei Zhao inhaled softly and fell silent for a moment.
Then, even more stiffly, he remained silent for another moment.
There was nothing he could do. Whenever Qin Shu became determined to act shamelessly clingy, Pei Zhao could never think of any particularly effective way to push him away. It had been like this from the very beginning, and even after all the time they had spent together, Pei Zhao was still helpless against him.
Today, however, the circumstances were unusual enough that Pei Zhao actually found an effective distraction. His voice turned cool. “Qin Shu, do you know what the horn on your head was? The evil spirit in the movie didn’t have a beast horn.”
“…That’s right!”
It worked immediately. Qin Shu had almost forgotten about the horn entirely. He sprang upright in alarm and hurriedly reached for his forehead.
There was no horn.
His forehead was completely bare.
“Ah… I don’t know. I actually liked it,” Qin Shu admitted honestly, sounding faintly disappointed. “It felt like one of my own organs, growing directly from my flesh and fused with my body. It felt completely real and natural… and it looked incredibly cool.”
When he was little, Qin Shu had loved that sort of horned design in tokusatsu shows. Whether the horns belonged to monsters or the heroes, whether there was one horn or several, he thought they all looked fantastic.
Elio’s Notes: Tokusatsu is a Japanese term for live-action productions that rely heavily on special effects, particularly superhero and monster series such as Ultraman and Kamen Rider. The genre is also extremely popular in China.
Better yet, add a pair of wings that appeared every now and then, and young Qin Shu would become completely obsessed, howling until his parents or Auntie Su took him out to buy the toys.
Right, speaking of Auntie Su…
“What time is it?” Qin Shu checked his phone. “Eleven thirty. How did it get this late already? Zhaozhao, should we go eat at the Tang family’s place first?”
Pei Zhao paused, shook the cola can in his hand, and realized more than half of it remained. He therefore handed it to Qin Shu. “Sure. You need to replenish your energy. Put this back in the refrigerator for me. I’ll finish it this afternoon.”
“It’ll be flat by then. We can just open some new ones when we come back.”
Qin Shu accepted the cola and emptied it in two swallows. Then he casually tossed the can in a perfect arc.
Clack.
It dropped straight into the trash can.
The entire sequence was so smooth that Pei Zhao was caught completely off guard and did not even have time to stop him. While he was still staring blankly, Qin Shu excitedly grabbed his arm.
“Come on, come on! I’m starving. If we’re any later, Auntie Su is going to call and chase us over there.”
“…Mm.”
The front door of the Qin residence gently swung shut, caught for a moment, then locked with a soft click.
The little centipede, having been completely ignored, squeezed out through the gap beneath the door and followed the two of them with palpable resentment.
As for the eyeball Qin Shu had left behind in the computer room… it was playing dead. Whenever Pei Zhao was present, it chose to play dead. It had absolutely no desire to share a room with Pei Zhao, much less follow him outside.
Unfortunately, circumstances were no longer up to the eyeball.
Unknown to anyone, the normally well-behaved gray-white eyeball was slowly swelling against its will, becoming rounder and fuller little by little.
Until—
“Crack!”
The transparent acrylic box burst apart, shattering into pieces.
The eyeball: “…”
Meanwhile, the Tang household was bustling with activity and filled with the rich aroma of food. Qin Shu knew the door code, and the instant he stepped inside, the delicious smell made his eyes light up.
It was New Year’s Eve, when almost everyone had a little time off. All three members of the Tang family were home, and the kitchen was bustling with activity.
Even Tang Rui Cheng, the patient with the broken arm, had been assigned kitchen duty. Holding a spatula in one hand, he stood at the stove and quietly turned the meat as he reduced the glaze for the honey-roasted char siu.
Su Ting Lian was checking the tomato-braised beef brisket simmering in a clay pot. The instant she lifted the lid, an appetizing burble-burble rose from inside. The fish jelly Qin Shu had specifically requested was already waiting on the dining table.
She had her own method for making fish jelly. First, she simmered fish bones into a milky-white, flavorful stock. Then she strained the fish flesh, which had been cooked until completely soft, through fine gauze and discarded it. The remaining broth was the true essence of the dish. With just a little fish gelatin added, it could be poured into bowls and refrigerated overnight, transforming into a translucent jelly.
Because every fragment of meat and impurity had been strained away, the finished fish jelly was exceptionally clear and jewel-like. It was cool, soft, springy, and wonderfully savory. Cut into thin slices and topped with whatever sauce one preferred, it was suitable for young and old alike.
“Uncle Tang, Auntie Su, we’re here!”
Beneath the shoe cabinet by the entrance sat two brand-new pairs of fluffy house slippers, one black and one white, both rather cute. Since this was Pei Zhao’s first visit, Su Ting Lian had probably bought them especially for him. Qin Shu quickly changed shoes and called out cheerfully again, “It smells amazing! Does anyone need me to help in the kitchen?”
“You’re here! Perfect. Xiao Qin, go check whether the chicken soup in the pressure cooker is ready. If it is, taste it for me and see whether it needs more salt.”
Su Ting Lian poked her head out of the kitchen. After casually assigning Qin Shu a task, she turned toward Pei Zhao, and an irrepressible smile immediately spread across her face. “Xiao Pei, it’s been so long! Welcome, welcome. I heard you went to Qin Shu’s place first thing this morning to study together. Aren’t you tired?”
“Hello, Auntie. I’m not tired. Is there anything I can help with?” Pei Zhao looked perfectly well-behaved.
Although he could not produce many lively expressions, adults had always adored him, especially the parents of other students in the experimental class at No. 2 High School. A student like Pei Zhao—outstanding in both character and academics and seemingly incapable of making mistakes—was exactly the sort of friend every parent wished their own child would make.
Su Ting Lian also felt an extra measure of sympathy for him. Thinking of the strange attitude Pei Zhao’s parents showed toward their son, she treated him even more gently. “No, no, go sit in the living room and watch television. There are drinks and snacks on the coffee table, so help yourself to whatever you like. Dinner will be ready in ten minutes!”
“Hello, Uncle Tang!” At the same time, Qin Shu had already charged into the kitchen, expertly found a ladle, and tasted a spoonful of piping-hot chicken soup. “Mm… delicious. Old Tang, how’s the arm?”
“Ah, same damn thing.”
“Tang Rui Cheng, watch your language,” his father said with a frown.
“…Ah. Same as before.”
Exactly ten minutes later, dinner was served.
Qin Shu was already starving. He helped pour drinks at the table, making no effort whatsoever to hide the way his eyes lit up at the food.
There was red-braised carp, honey-glazed char siu, crystal-clear fish jelly, a mountain of fresh prawns, tomato-braised beef brisket brought to the table in its cooking pot, and rich chicken soup simmered over large marrow bones… Since they were accommodating an injured patient, there was not a single spicy dish on the table, but the meal was still extraordinarily lavish.
“Serve yourselves soup if you want soup, and rice if you want rice. The rice cooker is beside the oven. All three of you kids need to eat plenty, all right? Don’t be shy with me.”
Smiling, Su Ting Lian pulled on a pair of disposable gloves. She was about to peel a couple of prawns to check the seasoning when she suddenly exclaimed, “Oh no! I haven’t cooked properly in so long that I forgot the vegetables! Honestly, why didn’t anyone remind me? A whole family of carnivores…”
Qin Shu certainly had no intention of being polite. He filled two large bowls with chicken soup, one for Pei Zhao and one for himself, and laughed. “It’s fine, Auntie Su. We can bring out an induction burner later and use the chicken soup as hotpot broth. Just throw the vegetables in and cook them there. It’ll be delicious.”
Tang Rui Cheng raised a thumb. “Genius!”
“Perfect, we’ll do that. Everyone has a drink, right? Old Tang, no alcohol for you. You’re having coconut juice too.” Su Ting Lian raised her glass. “Happy New Year in advance, you three. Next year, stay healthy, eat well, drink well, and keep improving at school.”
Their glasses met with a bright, crisp chime. A New Year’s Eve special played on the television in the living room while laughter filled the Tang home, lively and warm.
While everyone else concentrated on the meat, Pei Zhao silently ate half the crystal fish jelly. When he finally realized how much he had eaten, he seemed faintly embarrassed, which made Su Ting Lian laugh without end.
Meanwhile, the prawns Qin Shu had peeled at astonishing speed had already formed a brand-new little mountain. He gave half to Pei Zhao, saving Pei Zhao the trouble of peeling his own.
Tang Rui Cheng watched Qin Shu’s industrious shrimp-peeling and could not resist waggling his brows. “Darling, I want shrimp too. Boo-hoo, why didn’t anyone peel any for me?”
He had barely finished speaking when Su Ting Lian smacked him sharply on the back of the head.
“Smack!”
Tang Rui Cheng immediately behaved himself.
This time, Qin Shu was the one who could not stop laughing.
The lingering dread left by spending most of the day inside a horror movie was gradually washed clean by such a bright, lively atmosphere.
Qin Shu had no intention of giving up on enjoying life. He already had more plans and leaned closer to whisper to Pei Zhao, “Zhaozhao, after we watch the New Year’s gala tonight, do you want to go down to the river and see the fireworks?”
“I can go with you.” Pei Zhao paused before continuing softly, “But the moment you leave the house, there’s always a chance you’ll run into a ghost.”
It was not needless worrying. It was simply… an unavoidable fact. If they encountered a vicious ghost that wanted to hurt people, Qin Shu would have to intervene. If they encountered a resentful ghost that had been murdered, Qin Shu would also want to uncover what had happened and see that the culprit was brought to justice as quickly as possible.
Once one incident led to another, how much of the holiday would actually remain for entertainment was impossible to say.
Yet Qin Shu sounded almost excited. “That’s fine. If something happens and delays us, then just sleep at my place tonight. Don’t go home.”
Pei Zhao froze, then hesitated slightly. “I didn’t bring pajamas.”
“Wear mine.”
“What about clothes for tomorrow?”
“Wear mine for those too.”
“…”
Pei Zhao fell into contemplation.
“Scarves, coats, down jackets, sweaters, thermal pants, fuzzy socks—I have everything at home. My mom buys me way too many clothes, and some of them haven’t even been opened yet.” Qin Shu pressed his advantage and secretly tugged Pei Zhao’s sleeve beneath the table. “Zhaozhao, you wouldn’t possibly mind wearing my clothes, would you? You wouldn’t, right?”
“…No. Fine. I’ll stay.” Pei Zhao was pestered into agreeing yet again.
Pei Zhao’s hesitation, however, had nothing to do with Qin Shu. The problem was something subtler.
For example, the clothes Pei Zhao normally wore were made from funerary paper offerings. They could get wet, but they could not simply be thrown into a washing machine and violently churned around.
If he wore only Qin Shu’s clothes—or, more precisely, only ordinary human clothing—his ghostly aura would leak out much more easily.
Pei Zhao glanced at Qin Shu, who was looking thoroughly pleased with himself, then lowered his eyes.
Whatever. If a little leaks out, so be it.
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