Chapter Fifty-Eight: Out of Control

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In the darkness of the TV room, the doctor was in his usual state, lying on the massage chair, wearing AR glasses, manipulating the controller.

The image projected on the screen was peculiar, shot in a mockumentary style. The camera shook, as if someone was holding the device and had caught a hurried glimpse of Ya-jie Kong jumping out of the car.

The camera’s perspective was equally strange: not at the height of an ordinary person, but low, slithering along the ground like a snake, weaving through the car’s interior, gliding from the driver’s door to the outside.

The camera tilted upwards, focusing on Yan Gao.

Yan Gao, puzzled, shut the car door, facing forward, watching Ya-jie Kong, who hurried along with her head down.

“What’s wrong? In a rush to use the restroom?” Yan Gao called out, locking the car and chasing after her.

The camera did not follow immediately.

Instead, it rose slowly, hovering in the air.

Cars and their dark window glass appeared on both sides of the projection.

In the tinted glass, a strange eyeball was reflected—its surface covered with compound eyes, and at its top grew rabbit ears, which themselves were adorned with moth wings.

Suddenly, the scene changed.

Countless small frames split the projection screen. In these tiny images, some watched the departing Ya-jie Kong and Yan Gao, some stared at the car windows, some overlooked the concrete parking lot, others focused on the walls.

The small frames, like cells, began to devour each other.

All images became car windows.

The compound eyes clustered at each side of the eyeball, gazing into the glass as if looking at their own reflection.

Suddenly, the moth wings atop the eyeball began to tremble.

Something swam within the eyeball.

In the myriad tiny frames, one could glimpse minute worms wriggling inside. The surface of the eyeball bulged.

Pop!

With a faint sound, a hole opened at the bottom of the eyeball, and a long worm, resembling an earthworm, wriggled out. It thrashed in the air, like a newborn creature unable to adjust to the world outside its mother, its presence almost violently assertive.

From the split in the eyeball, more long worms squeezed out.

They waved and stretched like tentacles, sensing the air around them, growing ever longer, as if without end, able to extend infinitely.

These tendrils lashed onto the car, the cement, the walls, crawling over surfaces.

Suddenly, the compound eyes scattered.

The scene reverted to its previous state.

In the lens, those writhing worms could be seen crawling, clinging to surfaces, moving forward, gaining speed.

Dragging the eyeball, the worms rushed ahead.

They stuck to the elevator doors, then slipped quickly into the cracks.

The camera plunged into darkness, then just as swiftly, a faint light returned. Only a sliver of brightness.

The camera was pulled into the unlit elevator shaft.

Within that enclosed space, a rustling echoed.

The camera was being drawn upwards.

Wind whooshed past the speakers, as if brushing by one’s ear.

Suddenly, the image jolted and went black again. A second later, the scene brightened.

The worms now sprouted countless legs, transforming from earthworms into centipedes, crawling across the floor, slipping beneath the door.

The camera was pulled into the room, revealing the entryway wall, ceiling, and floor, all covered by the writhing worms.

They crept forward into the living room.

The room was empty, but the sound of running water could be heard not far off.

The worms crawled toward the closed bathroom door.

The rustling did not cease, and the nightmare swarm of insects remained ever-present on the screen.

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Click!

The sound of a door opening made all the worms freeze.

The camera turned.

Across the way, a half-open door was visible. Ya-jie Kong, wearing a bathrobe and dripping wet, poked her head out from another bathroom.

Her face was tense, eyes wide with terror, scanning the living room and bathroom door, her gaze sweeping repeatedly across the camera’s viewpoint.

She whispered, “Yan?”

Yan Gao did not hear her call. The sound of running water continued from the bathroom behind the camera.

Ya-jie Kong swallowed hard.

Rustle, rustle…

The worms changed direction, reappearing in the frame, targeting Ya-jie Kong.

She seemed to sense something, and abruptly slammed her door shut.

Rustle, rustle…

The worms crawled toward the bedroom, reaching the bathroom, covering half the door.

Through the frosted glass, Ya-jie Kong’s back was visible.

She jumped, turning around, apparently staring warily at the door, retreating step by step.

Her shadow on the frosted glass gradually faded.

The worms wriggled through the crack beneath the door.

The door vibrated gently.

Ya-jie Kong’s ragged breathing echoed from the speakers.

At the same time, the doctor’s fingernails produced a similar inhaling sound.

The camera moved slowly, approaching the gap in the door, passing through, entering the bathroom.

The lens rose again.

In the very center of the projection, Ya-jie Kong’s profile flashed by.

She darted into the shower, slamming the door shut. Through the frosted glass, her trembling figure could be seen.

On the left of the projection, there was a mirror.

The camera turned, focusing on the mirror.

The worms crawled relentlessly, gradually covering the glass.

Inside the mirror, the compound eyes on the eyeball looked as if they had been soaked in blood, veins swelling within. The blood vessels in the rabbit ears burst, staining the moth wings with crimson. The wings began to transform, previously unremarkable brown, now turning iridescent and varied in shape.

The wings shuddered.

The worms crept.

From within the shower, Ya-jie Kong’s sobs continued.

On screen, the mirror was now entirely covered by the worms. Twisting together, they began to devour and merge with each other.

They formed a massive ball of flesh, then started to divide, sprouting a human form—arms and legs—but the skin was insect-like, glossy with a gray-brown sheen.

It was as if a naked human crouched atop the mirror, huge, belly pressed to the glass, feet braced against the ceiling, its upper body sagging over the sink like a puddle of boneless mud.

The camera turned again, facing the shower.

Ya-jie Kong’s sobs suddenly stopped.

Drip, drip…

The camera dropped to the floor, moving forward along the ground.

It captured two arms stretching forward.

The lens reached the shower, pressing against the frosted glass.

“Ya-ya?”

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The bathroom door was suddenly knocked upon.

The camera whipped around.

On the projection screen appeared the grotesque naked body and the bathroom door.

The door opened, and Yan Gao poked his head in. “Ya-ya? Aren’t you finished bathing? Ya-ya?”

He stepped inside, nearly treading on the monstrous form.

All at once, the camera sped away.

A dizzying swirl of images flashed by before the camera stilled.

On the projection screen, the bathroom mirror came into view.

The naked body now crouched in the corner of the ceiling.

This time, its full form was visible.

At the front of the glistening, gray-brown body stretched five long necks, snake-like, supple yet powerful, supporting heads at the tips.

Each head was a ball of flesh, one side covered in eyes, the other in ears. Every eye and ear was different—not mere copies, but unique, as if belonging to different people, all fused together.

Like the mythical hydra, the heads swayed, their vision wide, surveying the entire bathroom.

Yan Gao yanked open the shower door, startled by what he saw.

“Ya-ya? What’s wrong? Are you okay? What happened?” He rushed in and scooped Ya-jie Kong into his arms.

She buried her face in his chest, her body trembling violently.

Cradling her, Yan Gao hurried out of the bathroom.

On the projection screen, the heads in the mirror began to move independently. Two of them stretched out from the mirror.

In the TV room, the massive projection screen expanded, growing from a home projector to a cinema-sized panoramic display.

The bedroom came into view, Yan Gao laying Ya-jie Kong on the bed and hastily dialing emergency services.

Meanwhile, two of the heads squeezed out through the bathroom’s ventilation window. Night fell across the projection.

The image zoomed in, revealing the veins on a flower’s petal; then zoomed out, showing distant city lights.

The panoramic screen flickered with constant change.

The chirring of insects, the wind, the sound of a TV from the building across the way, a neighbor’s phone ringing, Yan Gao’s voice… The rush of water through pipes, the tremor of distant cars, whispers of people, the clacking of keyboards, the scratch of pen on paper, the sound of someone rinsing their mouth… The hum of electricity, the faint buzz of a passing insect…

Countless sounds exploded from the speakers!

Bang!

The projection screen fell abruptly into darkness, the speakers into utter silence.

The doctor’s ten fingernails shrieked in alarm, then burst into noisy chatter.

The doctor remained unmoved, taking off the AR glasses.

The controller in his hand had become a TV remote, and the projection shrank to its original size.

He tossed the remote onto the coffee table that had appeared before him.

The screen lit up again.

This time—a bus stop.

Shengyao stood in front of the stop.

The ten fingernails let out a disappointed “Oh—”.

On a bench sat Bin Tong.

He sat hunched over, head bowed, hands covering his face.

A muffled curse escaped his lips.