Chapter Fourteen: Confession Under the Moon-Monster Clinic(Kukichi)

Shengyao held a flashlight, walking side by side with Chen Jin. The twin beams of light alternated, meeting and separating, meeting and separating...

Shengyao’s expression was calm, even relaxed enough to make conversation with Chen Jin.

“Brother Chen, do you patrol like this often? You don’t usually patrol at night, do you?”

“At night, we usually just leave someone in the monitoring room to keep an eye on things…” Chen Jin’s face was grim. The last time they patrolled like this was only a few days ago, and it was to keep an eye on Shengyao himself. Before that… he couldn’t even remember. The night shift colleagues would nap in the monitoring room, sometimes slip back to the dorm for a comfortable sleep. No one bothered with attendance. Most importantly, nothing bad had ever happened in Longevity Garden, except for the days when Old Xu was gatekeeper and had to deal with thrill-seeking youngsters.

Chen Jin thought of this and felt a bit resentful toward Shengyao, as well as the girl who had yet to be found.

“What about the cleaners? Do they come every morning to tidy up?”

“Yeah,” Chen Jin replied, brushing off the question.

“You mentioned the flowers in Longevity Cemetery last time. Do you have a dedicated gardener here? How are those flowers and plants cared for? Do they need watering every day?”

“It’s not that troublesome,” Chen Jin answered, sweeping his flashlight toward Shengyao, “What are you trying to find out?”

“I’m just wondering where she might be hiding,” Shengyao smiled.

Chen Jin snorted.

They were responsible for checking the cemetery, but Chen Jin doubted they’d find anyone here. Old Xu was searching the office buildings with two others. That was where someone could hide—which was why Chen Jin had dragged Shengyao to check the cemetery instead.

Teenagers and their emotional turmoil—when it erupts, isn’t it like Mars colliding with Earth? If something happened inside the buildings, in a fit of impulsiveness, someone might jump out the window…

Chen Jin and Old Xu worried about the worst case scenario, which was why they arranged things as they had.

Shengyao seemed completely unaware.

He checked the gravestones rather carelessly, waving the flashlight back and forth mechanically. His steps were hurried, as if he just wanted to finish the task quickly. His earlier questions were merely idle chatter.

Chen Jin inwardly mocked Shengyao’s timidity, but looking at Shengyao’s face, it didn’t seem like fear. If he were scared, he’d be like Xiao Wu during the night patrol, jumping at the slightest sound like a startled rabbit.

“Seems she’s not in the traditional cemetery,” Shengyao said, stepping onto the stone path leading to Longevity Cemetery.

“Yeah,” Chen Jin replied offhandedly.

No matter how bold the girl was, she wouldn’t hide among gravestones and burial mounds. Besides, there really wasn’t anywhere to hide in the cemetery. The office and dorm buildings had some unused rooms…

Chen Jin touched his phone, waiting for Old Xu to bring good news. But then he noticed Shengyao’s expression turning serious.

The flashlight’s movement lost its rhythm, sometimes lingering over certain spots, sometimes flicking quickly past mounds and sculptures.

Shengyao bent down, searching through the bushes.

“We’re looking for a girl, not a stray cat,” Chen Jin couldn’t help but say.

“Yeah,” Shengyao replied, just as offhandedly as Chen Jin earlier.

He straightened up, flashlight turning, landing again in a bush.

Suddenly, his eyes lit up.

Shengyao hurried over to the bush, reaching inside.

“What did you find?” Chen Jin asked, puzzled.

Swish—

A sound as Shengyao pulled out his hand, clutching a bouquet wrapped in plastic cellophane.

Chen Jin was stunned.

Shengyao gazed at the bouquet, then at the other wilted flowers in the bush, his expression softening.

He put the bouquet back, flashlight falling on the tall pine tree beside him.

The light crawled up the trunk.

On the rough bark, there were faint traces of moisture.

Shengyao gripped the flashlight in his mouth, kicked off the ground, leapt over the small patch of bushes, and wrapped his arms around the big pine.

“Hey, you—” Chen Jin exclaimed, stepping onto the grass, but stopped at the bush.

Shengyao climbed up the tree with agility.

At the higher branches, he saw clearer traces of moisture—a viscous substance coating the trunk, with strange things on the leaves, as if a giant snail had passed through.

Shengyao stepped onto a thick branch, holding the trunk with one hand, taking the flashlight from his mouth with the other.

He shone the light ahead.

Further out, on the branch, hung a round orb.

The beam hit its dark pupil—it was staring right at Shengyao, as if reflecting his pale face.

Shengyao’s throat tightened, his pupils contracted, and he stared across at that eye.

…

In the dark TV room, a low, eerie laughter echoed.

The doctor rested his hands on his knees, fingers interlaced, supporting his mouth behind a mask. The laughter seemed to come from his mouth, but also from his fingernails.

His eyes shone brightly and frighteningly, as large and round as the solitary eye on the screen.

The images flickered between the back of Shengyao’s head and close-ups of his eyes, flashing as if the video had glitched.

The flickering stopped abruptly.

Shengyao’s eyes filled the screen.

His eyes bubbled like a pot of boiling water, with tiny bubbles rising rapidly from the bottom.

“Hehehehehe…”

The doctor began a strange laugh again, stretching his neck, elongating his spine, his head moving closer and closer to the TV screen, almost touching the image of Shengyao.

…

Shengyao let his hand drop, and the flashlight fell, beam tumbling through the air.

Chen Jin jumped in alarm, shouting, “What’s wrong?”

He got no answer from Shengyao.

The flashlight beam revealed only Shengyao standing on the branch, gazing westward.

He had tossed the flashlight, and let go of the trunk.

“Hey!” Chen Jin cried out, panicking.

Shengyao stepped forward onto the branch.

As he moved, the branch swayed gently, and the eye bounced up and down like a yo-yo.

He took a second step, picking up speed, quickly crossing the middle of the branch, forcing it to bend beneath his weight.

He leapt from the pine, the branch bouncing back, launching the eye into the air.

As he jumped, Shengyao reached out and caught the eye, holding it carefully, his fist protecting it. He landed lightly atop a stone lion.

The lion’s surface was uneven.

Shengyao’s body tilted, grabbing the lion’s head, swinging himself off, leaping over a nearby mound.

He moved in a straight line, astonishingly fast, disappearing from Chen Jin’s view in moments.

Chen Jin stared, stunned. When he recovered, he panicked.

But as a middle-aged man with a paunch, he couldn’t mimic Shengyao’s route or style, and could only follow the stone path.

Chen Jin ran desperately, dialing Xiao Jin.

“Check the Longevity Cemetery monitors! Where did that kid run off to?”

Xiao Jin, confused, quickly found the relevant screens, noticing something flash across one.

“Ah, here! Wait, wait… damn! He’s so fast! There, there… Chen, I see you, go right… no, wait, ah! He’s at the west gate!”

Xiao Jin had only seen shadows for several seconds, until now, when Shengyao grabbed the iron gate at the west entrance, climbed swiftly to the top, stunning Xiao Jin into silence.

Shengyao moved like a parkour master in a highlight reel, scaling the wall with flawless agility.

Outside the west gate, Shengyao stood on the dark asphalt road, staring at the equally dark wilds ahead. He drew a deep breath and shouted, “Shengsheng—”

Chen Jin, running toward the west gate, halted in shock.

The shout echoed far and wide.

The veins beneath Shengyao’s ears bulged, as vivid as his eyes, something boiling and alive beneath his thin skin.

Amid the whispering grass, he caught a faint anomaly.

Without hesitation, Shengyao dashed toward it.

His feet seemed spring-loaded, launching him forward, landing to crush wild grass at the roots, leaving footprints in the soil. His legs carried him low over the grass, so fast that only the flattened plants and footprints showed he was running.

When Chen Jin reached the west gate, panting, he shone his flashlight over the wilds, holding his phone, wheezing as he asked Xiao Jin, “Where is he? Where—”

Before he finished, Chen Jin’s mouth fell open.

In the flashlight’s beam, the wild grass ahead showed two clear trails—one was footprints extending from the gate, the other looked like a creature darting through the grass. The wind pressed the grass down, revealing ripples moving against the flow.

Shengyao raced on, his eyes, ears, vision, hearing, leg muscles, nerves, and most importantly, his heart, pumping blood throughout his body, and lungs, expanding and contracting, oxygenating every cell—all unleashed their full power in that moment.

He began to see the figure ahead in the grass—not just hear it, but see and even smell…

A rotten stench wafted on the breeze, as if it had always permeated the wilds.

On the nearby grass, bits of flesh stuck—gray, black, some streaked with red blood or bluish veins.

Shengyao didn’t stop; he finally caught sight of the figure just ahead.

The figure was thin, a black jacket billowing loosely, damp with reddish-brown blood dripping from the fabric. One hand swung, skeletal white bone, the other covered in sparse gray muscle.

Shengyao lunged, embracing the misshapen body, carefully shielding her to his chest, rolling through the grass twice before halting.

…

Thump!

“Hoo…”

Heartbeats, breaths, the strange sounds of muscle twitching and nerves tensing then relaxing, resonated in the dark TV room.

The sounds, like surround sound, created a peculiar pleasure—a pleasure far beyond what the old-fashioned CRT television could provide.

The doctor seemed intoxicated by the audio, his body relaxing as he slumped on the sofa.

He lifted his leg, and from the shadow beneath, a footstool appeared out of nowhere, allowing him to stretch his legs comfortably.

His legs crossed, blocking the screen. The television, as if alive, grew taller, shifting upward.

The image returned to the doctor’s view.

On screen, a man and woman embraced. The youth’s posture was gentle and strong.

The doctor propped his face on his hand, a smile showing beneath his mask, though it seemed sinister, his blue eyes filled with anticipation.

…

“Shengsheng… Shengsheng…” Shengyao murmured, his voice choking, his arms pressing White Xiao tight against his body. He could feel the bones under her jacket—one by one, very distinctly. He also felt soft, slippery parts, reminding him of his aging grandmother, her body collapsing at the end.

Strange memories flickered through his mind. He seemed to have changed shrouds for the elderly many times, carefully touching bodies after life had left them.

Tears welled in Shengyao’s eyes. He squeezed tighter, then, afraid of hurting White Xiao, quickly relaxed his hold.

His chest was pressed.

Not by slender, calloused violinist’s hands, but by the hands of a corpse.

Shengyao was pushed away forcefully.

White Xiao sat up from the ground, her back to him, leaving only a twisted silhouette.

Shengyao scrambled up, suddenly noticing the eyeball he’d been holding.

He looked at White Xiao, his throat dry.

“You already know…” White Xiao spoke. Her voice had lost the clarity it held during the day. Her throat was hoarse, every word leaking air.

The wind pressed the grass down, moonlight falling unobstructed on White Xiao.

A gap marked her neck, her once thick hair nearly gone. Even with clothes covering her, her mangled limbs were apparent.

White Xiao slowly turned her head, gazing at Shengyao with her only remaining eye. That eye was shrouded in gray mist, its bright black pupil gone, the whites now stained red. Her once lovely face was unrecognizable, hollowed at the socket, half her skin rotting away, exposing bone beneath—even through the orbital cavity, some vessels and deeper brain tissue were visible.

White Xiao forced a smile, grotesque and terrifying.

Shengyao felt only sadness.

He reached out, took White Xiao’s hand, ignoring her resistance, and placed the eyeball in her palm.

He looked up, gently stroking her face, “Don’t be afraid, Shengsheng, don’t be afraid… Let’s see a doctor. You’ll be cured. You will be cured!”

White Xiao stared at Shengyao in astonishment.

In the moonlight, Shengyao smiled.

…

In the TV room, the doctor’s smile froze on his mask.

The fingernails were silent for a few seconds, then burst into uproar.

The doctor kicked the footstool away, leaning toward the TV screen.

On screen, moonlight and wild grass, a man and a woman—the man handsome, the woman a monster, beauty of the scene shredded.

…

“What’s wrong with you!” White Xiao pushed Shengyao again, harder this time, throwing the eyeball at him.

Shengyao, bewildered, searched the grass for the eyeball, only to find it crushed by the force, now a semi-liquid mass of flesh.

He looked up in panic at White Xiao.

Moonlight fell on her back, casting a twisted shadow over Shengyao.

“Look at me! I’m already dead! I’m dead! Dead!” White Xiao screamed, tears pouring from her lone socket, mixed with blood or some unknown substance, falling before Shengyao.

“I’m already dead…” White Xiao sobbed, “I’m dead, Shengyao. It’s… over… It should have ended long ago… You should start a new life! Meet a new girl, a better person. I told you, our meeting was a mistake… You shouldn’t have met me… If you hadn’t met me… If only…”

Shengyao felt his heart tearing apart. He climbed shakily from the ground, reaching for White Xiao, “No, it’s not… Shengsheng, White Xiao…”

Wife…

The wind carried voices from afar, someone weeping and whispering.

“Meeting you was the best, happiest thing in my life.” Shengyao gripped White Xiao’s bony shoulder, gazing at her sparse hair, wanting to cradle her broken face, “Meeting you made me whole. Even if—even if you’re already dead…”

He met White Xiao’s single eye, tears falling onto her face, “I love you…”

He bowed his head, wanting to kiss those lips now lost, her ruined teeth—only to be blocked by her skeletal hand.

White Xiao’s voice was distant, “I’m already dead… It’s ending soon…”

Shengyao heard strange sounds beneath her clothes.

Plop.

Something slipped from her clothing, landing at their feet.

The black jacket clung closer to White Xiao, revealing ribs beneath the fabric, empty spaces below…

Shengyao looked down and saw a still-quivering… heart…

Suddenly, he realized something, and looked anxiously to White Xiao.

“Found her!” Chen Jin’s breathless voice broke in, the flashlight’s beam sweeping past.

Shengyao instinctively squinted, feeling the person beneath his hand was withdrawing.

White Xiao stepped back, the skin pressed to Shengyao’s palm tearing, making a sticky, wet sound.

Shengyao’s hand trembled, watching the piece of skin, flesh blurred, fall between them.

White Xiao turned and ran.

Shengyao, blinded by the harsh light, tried to chase, but a hand grabbed him tightly.

That hand trembled.

Another voice emerged from the grass: “Brother Chen, did you find her?”

Xiao Jin trod through the grass, shining his flashlight on Chen Jin’s bloodless, quivering face.

“Brother Chen…?” he asked, puzzled, then looked to Shengyao.

Shengyao tried to shake off Chen Jin, but Chen Jin held on, dragging himself down.

“What… is that?” Chen Jin asked, terrified, “What is that thing?!”