Chapter 27

I splashed cold water on my face to cool it down. The hair on my forehead was wet and clung to my skin, water droplets dripping down my chin. I looked up at my glasses and was stunned by the dense mass of things behind me.

Behind me are creatures that pretend to be walls, windows, and the scenery outside. Their bodies and environment are so similar, yet this is where I have always lived. They imitate me, but not quite, and slowly, they get closer and closer. I watch them magnify in the mirror, until I can no longer recognize them by their outlines, but only by the difference I can intuitively tell that they are behind me.

I thought they were gone.

I stared intently at my face in the mirror. It was a typical young man's face: black hair, gray eyes. Here, this ordinary feature seemed unusual. I took a utility knife from the cupboard. I didn't know who had put it there; I only remembered seeing it the last time.

I want to know if hurting yourself also hurts the seed?

I also thought about something that was behind me from the beginning. I was able to see it after I discovered I had seeds. Were they following me because of my appearance, or were they drawn to me because of the seeds within me?

Of course, there's another possibility: I've buried it deep in my memory.

The creatures all leaned back in unison, looking surprised. They quickly wrapped their arms around my hand, risking their lives to shield me from the blade, preventing it from harming me. Protected by them, I deflated, wondering why I had done it.

This isn't me. Isn't this me?

Alcohol is so damaging to the brain. I repeated this to myself, and when I looked in the mirror, I saw my face was covered in water droplets again. I washed myself again with water, scrubbing so hard that my eyelids turned red.

They left silently once again, just like last time. I can't figure out where they got their information from me, and now I can't believe I'm not being watched.

I didn't turn on the light. I groped my way to open the door to the two children's room. There was no one inside, but there were two humanoid figures. I knew they always did this; every night when I opened the door, it was the same scene. Before, I just didn't want them to lose their privacy.

Today, my brain was conditioned by alcohol. Today, I just want to stop taking things for granted.

I left the door ajar, not intending to close it. The lunchbox on the coffee table was tightly closed, yet it still emitted a pleasant aroma. I opened it, and the steaming vapor blurred my vision.

I still remember the first time I met my landlady outside. The weather wasn't great that day, but it was hot and humid outside. I had just finished my Sunday night shift and had only just reached the entrance of the complex when I saw the new security guard.

There have never been any security guards here. Out of curiosity, I chatted with one of them for a while.

Me: "Has this neighborhood started hiring security guards?"

The security guard gave me a mysterious look and whispered, "You don't know?"

I was a little confused. Although I had indeed lived here for almost a week, I was practically still an outsider and naturally unaware of what was happening locally. I listened attentively: "What happened?"

He said a vicious murderer had moved in, and his situation was more serious than that of the other residents. The government initially didn't intend to intervene, but fearing that inaction would cause public panic, they hired a security team. The security guards were just there as an afterthought, and he just happened to be there.

He exclaimed, "Luckily, it matched up, and the salary is this much." He gestured, "It would have been a huge loss not to come."

I nodded silently, agreeing with his approach.

However, I hadn't heard a single word about the new landlord. I hadn't met the two children yet, and I had no one to ask when I got home. While watering the peach trees outside, my landlady, who lived nearby, came over. I didn't know her then, and didn't realize she was my landlady. She insisted on giving me a box of homemade treats, saying she'd made them a long time ago; they were still warm in my hands. I cautiously inquired about the new tenant from this friendly, unfamiliar woman—I was still afraid of inexplicable death.

She smiled and patted my shoulder—she always enjoyed physical interaction with people—and assured me firmly, "Don't worry, Qinghe, now that you're staying in my house, I'll definitely protect you."

Her tone was firm and her eyes were calm, as if she would really protect me with her shorter body if that situation actually occurred.

Even if it was just platitudes, I was deeply moved by it.

I simply accepted life here as it came. In the days when no one was there to talk to, I could only numb myself with work and study, and spend the rest of my time aimlessly picking leaves from plants.

They seemed to sense my sorrow, and more and more leaves withered, making them easier for me to pick. But this wasn't a solution; when there were no leaves left to pick, I counted the clouds in the sky.

Everyone was kind to me, but it was in this kindness that I suffered deeply. I didn't know what I had done to deserve it, nor what their motives were. I tried my best to repay them with something of equal value, but I was quickly exhausted again.

I am not fragile. I also hope to have someone to rely on.

She was the first person to say those things to me. I hope she can be happy, and I hope I can repay her for the kindness she showed me.

She always thinks of me like this. I finished the whole box of food; my stomach felt warm. I washed the dishes, took a quick shower, and finally lay down on the bed.

Tonight I was so desperate that I tried anything.

I turned my head to look at the thing beside my pillow, unsure if it was still there: "Goodnight," I said. A sweet scent overpowered the smell of alcohol, and the smell of toothpaste overpowered the smell of food. I felt quite tired, closed my eyes, and drifted off to sleep.

*

I heard a rustling sound, like cat claws scratching at the door. Awakening quickly chased away my drowsiness, and I suspected that was the source of the claw marks on the window frame.

...Wait a minute, claw marks on the window frame? I was momentarily confused, but quickly decided I should focus on the situation at hand. So I quietly got up, and the sounds outside disappeared for a moment, only to reappear after I stood quietly waiting.

We maintained this rhythm, and I moved closer little by little, with sounds coming from outside again and again. The closer I got to the door, the clearer the sounds became. It sounded like it was scratching at my door, yet also like it was still some distance away.

I walked to the doorknob and suddenly pulled it open—

There was nothing outside. Only the wind was blowing the curtains behind my unclosed window.

I was about to go and close the window when I suddenly had a jolt: I wouldn't fall asleep without checking the room; this wasn't me. I became alert and looked around, but there was no sign of anyone who had broken in in the darkness. I suspected he was hiding in some corner, perhaps even behind the curtains that were fluttering in the wind, even though the streetlights outside had long since shone in, illuminating the living room along with the moonlight.

What was the darkness I saw earlier? I hesitated for a moment, standing there in a daze.

Suddenly, there was a loud noise from the kitchen.