Chapter 1: An Ordinary, Ordinary, and Warm Evening

Chapter 1: An Ordinary, Ordinary, and Warm Evening

This novel is translated and hosted on bcatranslation

“Happy Birthday!”

The ambient light in the living room bathed the pale yellow tablecloth in an intimate glow, creating an atmosphere of unrivaled warmth. This cozy scene welcomed the mother and father as they made their entrance, balancing a birthday cake in their hands.

Their daily professional challenges never darkened the doorstep of their home; their faces remained illuminated by smiles, and they showed no traces of the day’s fatigue, even after enduring the demands of their respective jobs.

Without engaging in conversation with his parents, Gao Ming busied himself by transferring the dishes he had just prepared from the kitchen to the dining table, opting to sit in solitary silence on one side of the table.

Observing his son’s behavior, the father sighed in a gesture of helpless acceptance. He shed his rain-drenched coat and mud-splattered boots, methodically replacing them with indoor slippers neatly aligned next to the mother’s.

The father, always looking sharp in his tailored suit, exuded a tall and stately presence, while the mother, both tender and adept, dressed in a simple white blouse paired with denim jeans, commended Gao Ming on his culinary efforts. This was followed by their joint effort in disposing of their soiled garments into the laundry basket in the bathroom.

The sound of cascading water permeated the space as the mother washed her hands, inadvertently leaving behind a few droplets of a dark red substance on the washbasin’s edge.

“No matter how demanding our jobs are, we will always make it a point to return home to celebrate your birthday,” they affirmed.

Yet Gao Ming seemed detached, his attention firmly anchored to the newscast echoing from the television, not acknowledging his parents’ sentiment.

“Breaking News: The ‘Rainy Night Murderer’ strikes again! Our city’s historic neighborhood becomes the scene of a third gruesome murder!”

“The police have a suspect in mind! The public is urged to remain calm, secure their homes, and avoid venturing out late during these perilous nights!”

As the rain tapped a rhythmic pattern against the windows, the tempest outside was a sharp contrast to the comforting veil of steam rising from the hot meal indoors.

“Why do you watch these unsettling news stories?” the father inquired with evident concern, reaching to confiscate the remote control. “Some news outlets thrive on sensationalism, spreading anxiety and misfortune.”

Gao Ming remained unresponsive, his gaze subtly scanning the cozy confines of their home.

The walls were fortified with soundproofing materials coated with special sound-absorbing paint, a testament to their intent to ensure that the outside world would remain oblivious even in the event of a significant disturbance.

A new air-cooled refrigerator stood in the living room, its internal fan circulating air to keep stored meat fresh and free of any telltale odors.

The kitchen boasted an ample supply of zipper bags, each perfectly sized to hold sizable portions of meat, designed for effortless transport. Below the counter lay chemical compounds capable of hastening the decomposition of organic matter when introduced to water. The contemplation loomed: were the plans to conceal portions of the meat in the refrigerator while disposing of the remainder elsewhere?

Tucked behind the bathroom door was a swath of plastic sheeting, sufficiently expansive to cover the entire floor, suggesting that the ‘meat’ referred to was likely processed in this very room. This ‘meat,’ however, was probably far from the mundane variety found in a kitchen.

Gao Ming’s imagination began to conjure vivid and macabre scenes as his eyes swept over the immaculate flooring.

Despite the home’s inviting décor, an involuntary shiver coursed through his hands.

“Come, let’s enjoy the cake. We went through a lot in the storm to pick it,” the mother prompted after cleansing her hands, proceeding to carefully adorn the cake with eighteen candles.

“Eighteen candles...” Gao Ming mused, despite having turned twenty-six years old. The number on the cake failed to correspond to his actual age, but it seemed to hold a different significance.

“Make a wish,” his father prompted as he ignited the candles while his mother, complicit in the ceremony, extinguished the lights.

The room plunged into darkness, broken only by the flickering candlelight that cast unnerving shadows upon the walls. These shadows danced over his ‘parents’ faces, their smiles eerily identical, unnaturally mirroring each other to the very curvature of their lips.

As his parents leaned in closer, their silhouettes warped in the semi-darkness, taking on forms that the weak candlelight couldn’t fully reveal, suggesting a sinister transformation in the play of light and shadow.

“I wish that Dad and Mom could always be with me,” Gao Ming declared, breaking his silence that had lingered since their return. His affection for his parents was profound, matched by their love for him. No matter the demands of their lives, they never failed to return each evening to be with him.

When the overhead lights were switched back on, a sheen of cold sweat clung to Gao Ming’s back. He methodically removed each candle, cleaning them with care before storing them in a metal box that housed a collection of many others.

“Wishes must be kept silent if they are to come true. Next time, hold it in your heart,” his father advised with a ravenous look as he began to devour the food with a voracious appetite.

An icy shiver shot up Gao Ming’s spine as he pivoted to face his parents then, who were standing silently behind him, their heads hanging lifelessly.

The birthday cake, their presence, mom and dad...

The quaint scenes from the small game he had designed to reinforce familial ties had materialized in his reality, albeit with some “minor” modifications.

He had sought to flee, but outside his apartment’s security door lay impenetrable darkness, emanating a sinister presence as though it were a gateway to some otherworldly dimension.

Left with no alternatives, Gao Ming was forced to reckon with the rules of the game he had inadvertently brought to life.

Even if the game had grotesquely transformed, how daunting could it be when it’s a game intended to strengthen family bonds? Was it simply that his parents morphed into monstrosities once the lights went out? Was it merely that his parents would visit every night? Was it only about surviving in a house that had become a charnel ground until he reached eighteen and allowing his ‘parents’ to perform their duties in companionship?

Reflecting on the harrowing events of the past three days, Gao Ming’s eyelids fluttered uncontrollably, and he made a mental note to eschew cake for the remainder of his days.

He extinguished his cigarette and herded the latest ‘parents’ into the bedroom. Their faces twisted as if they were averse to Gao Ming’s departure.

“With each return of Mom and Dad, the number of candles on the cake grows, meaning becoming eighteen signifies a passage. So, the appearance of the eighteenth candle signifies the end of the game.”

“I’m grateful for your company, but if you were truly my mom and dad, you wouldn’t desire for me to stay here; instead, you’d wish for me to lead you out of this place.”

Each prior containment of ‘Mom and Dad’ in the bedroom hadn’t provoked such a ferocious response, possibly suggesting that Gao Ming was nearing the completion of his sinister game.

As he shut the bedroom door behind him, warmth began to creep back into the house. The news broadcast from the television sounded more distinct, and the patter of rain against the window felt incrementally more tangible.

“Three days have passed. At last, I can escape this accursed dwelling.”

He advanced towards the security door in the living room and gazed through the peephole. The hallway, once swathed in darkness, now bore a glimmer of light that flickered weakly, hinting that Gao Ming was on the cusp of leaving something behind.

“The events in that tunnel remain a blur. The key to why my game became a reality must lie there!”

The need to unravel the mystery pressed upon Gao Ming, as he had always been drawn to perplexing enigmas. In his mind, more souls had perished here than rested in a public graveyard.

Should this twisted game spill into reality, the whole city would be imperiled.

As the hallway’s light began to scatter the shadows, Gao Ming poised himself to attempt the door when the sound of hasty footsteps suddenly echoed from beyond.

His heartbeat escalated, his eyes were glued to the peephole, and his arms tensed with anticipation.

“The game should be over by now!”

With bated breath, Gao Ming’s gaze remained fixed on the corner of the staircase.

A short while later, a man in his twenties, about 180 cm tall and clad in a raincoat, emerged in front of the door. His demeanor was grave as he methodically examined the doors along the corridor.

Gao Ming’s gaze sharpened; the man’s stature and appearance bore a striking resemblance to the one described in the police surveillance bulletins, which alleviated some of Gao Ming’s immediate fears.

“That was a close one. It’s just the Rainy Night Murderer. I was worried that it was my parents coming back again.”

He threw a glance towards the bedroom. There ought to be a reward for completing the game, but Gao Ming was too apprehensive to seize it just yet. He quickly wrapped his leg in bandages to create the illusion of an injury before grabbing a garbage bag and cautiously opening the security door. Fresh, humid air spilled into the room, and Gao Ming drew a long, deliberate breath.

The man in the raincoat seemed poised to move on, but then he caught the noise of the door swinging open. Rainwater streamed from the rim of his hat as he struggled to conceal the surge of excitement in his gaze, turning his attention to grip the doorframe firmly.

“It’s a downpour outside, and you’re drenched. Please, come in and get warm,” Gao Ming offered, without waiting for a response from the raincoat-clad stranger, and he hobbled towards the table where food still steamed invitingly.

Observing Gao Ming, who appeared completely defenseless, the man in the raincoat stepped over the threshold. He noted Gao Ming’s ostensibly injured left leg and then the half-consumed cake. The homely, inviting environment of the room seemed to only fuel his sinister impulses, and a distinctly malevolent grin spread across his face.

This could well be the last semblance of an ordinary and cozy evening you’ll ever have.