Chapter Sixty-Three: Revealed
Outside the window, night deepened, but laughter from Kong Yajie still rang out from the living room now and then.
The sound of the door opening made Kong Yajie lift her hand to rub her aching cheeks. She poked her head toward the entryway, “You’re back! Did you take out the trash?”
Gao Yan changed into slippers as he entered, “Yes. I’ll wash my hands first.”
Kong Yajie flopped back onto the couch, her gaze glued to the television. She was so engrossed that her mouth hung open slightly, her expression a little foolish.
After washing his hands, Gao Yan walked over to the sofa and gently lifted Kong Yajie’s chin.
She slapped his hand away, rolled her eyes, but couldn’t help sharing a smile with him.
With a sigh, Gao Yan found a comfortable spot on the sofa. “What part are you at?”
Kong Yajie nestled into his shoulder with practiced ease. “You’re just in time—this is the best part.”
On the TV, the screen darkened, urgent music swelling from the speakers.
Yet at some point, Kong Yajie’s eyes shifted toward the left. She held her breath, clutching Gao Yan’s shirt with both hands.
Gao Yan, absorbed in the film, wrapped an arm around her shoulders, his other hand draped across the back of the sofa.
Bit by bit, Kong Yajie turned her head, looking toward the study on the left.
The door to the study was open. From where she sat, she could see only half the doorframe and door panel, and the bookshelf against that wall.
The music in the film changed.
Gao Yan laughed at the two leads comically bumping heads on screen.
But Kong Yajie couldn’t join in. She stared fixedly at the half-open door, at the glass doors of the bookcase, at the small patch of ceiling illuminated by the living room light.
There was something in there...
She felt stifled, breathless, oppressed—but at the same time, she sensed something in the study...
No, no, no...
It wasn’t a “thing”! She was overthinking! It was allergies, anxiety! It couldn’t be something... something unseen...
Her grip tightened involuntarily.
Gao Yan looked down to see his shirt twisted tight in Kong Yajie’s hands.
“What’s wrong, Yaya?” he asked, touching her arm and following her gaze.
“There’s something!” Kong Yajie whispered. “No! Not... it’s just me...” She sounded confused.
Gao Yan looked at her again, released her shoulder, and cupped her face in his hands, forcing her to look at him.
“Don’t be afraid. I’ll go check. Don’t worry—it’s probably just a bird that flew in. I think I forgot to close the study window earlier...” Gao Yan reassured her, rising and heading toward the study.
Kong Yajie’s hand flailed on the sofa, unable to catch him. Her throat felt squeezed, unable to make a sound. She wanted to warn him that in the afternoon, they’d closed every window and turned on the air conditioner; only after dinner, when Gao Yan took out the trash, did she open the balcony and bedroom windows.
It wasn’t the window, let alone a bird!
Gao Yan’s retreating back loomed in Kong Yajie’s eyes.
She seemed to see the dark stairwell, the unfamiliar woman’s face bleached white by the fluorescent light, her feet tinged green by the “emergency exit” sign—like some exaggerated movie effect from the eighties or nineties—devil, killer, monster...
Gao Yan had reached the study door. He placed his hand on the wall.
Click!
The study lights blazed on.
Bang!
Crash!
Smash!
A cascade of glass—
“Who’s there!” Gao Yan shouted, charging into the study amid the chaos.
Kong Yajie leapt up reflexively. “Yan!”
She rushed into the study to a scene of utter turmoil:
The computer monitor and tower lay smashed on the floor, the window entirely shattered, shards of glass strewn across the sill.
Gao Yan rushed to the window, flinging it open and searching outside.
He spun around. “Call the police! Someone just jumped out!”
“Ah!” Kong Yajie gasped, clutching the doorframe to keep from falling.
Gao Yan hurried to steady her. “Don’t be scared. It’s okay. He must have climbed down somewhere—maybe he’s still dangling from a pillar or something. We’ll call the police.”
He helped Kong Yajie back to the sofa, grabbed his phone, and dialed emergency services.
Kong Yajie seized his hand, eyes wide. “Was it... was it really a person? Did you see someone?”
“I didn’t see anything—Hello, I need to report a break-in. Someone was just in my home, they jumped out the window. Yes. Eighth floor. I didn’t see the person, only that the computer was open and smashed, and the window broken. My address is...” Gao Yan reported their address calmly, squeezing Kong Yajie’s hand for reassurance.
But Kong Yajie couldn’t stop trembling.
Gao Yan hadn’t seen anything... Jumping from the eighth floor... How did that thing get in? That was definitely not a person... that thing...
She slowly turned toward the study, its door still ajar.
It had run away... She could feel it... but her heart pounded so fiercely it felt ready to burst from her throat.
She sensed something ominous unfolding.
That thing was real...
Not allergies, not anxiety.
There really was something... something invisible...
And now it wasn’t just following her. It could break things. It could jump out the window and escape!
That thing...
Kong Yajie shuddered and instinctively huddled in Gao Yan’s arms.
...
Sheng Yao sprinted through the shadows beneath the neighborhood trees.
He darted into the landscaping, bounded across the lawn, and vaulted over a row of shrubs, chasing the leaping figure ahead.
He’d been watching Kong Yajie’s home for days, and now he’d finally caught something in the act!
His heart pounded in his chest, his breath coming fast—not just from running, but from what he’d just witnessed...
He saw it smash through the window and leap from the eighth floor!
That was absolutely, unmistakably not a human being!
It had a vaguely human shape but an insect’s chitinous shell for skin. Limbs like a person’s, but each one jointed seven times—grotesquely long—just like the fingers growing from Mao Mao’s throat... And its five heads! Necks as long as giraffes, each ending in a round, staring face!
It was a monster.
If Mao Mao, at the end, had become a monster wearing a tabby cat’s body, then this thing was a monster built from the blueprint of a human.
It burst through the eighth-floor window, clambered down the wall on all fours, dropped several stories, leaped onto the treetops, and kept running.
Sheng Yao had no idea where it was headed. Perhaps “home,” though Tong Bin’s place was nowhere near here...
He pushed off the ground, clearing the landscaping in a single bound.
After a few strides forward, he twisted his heel and ducked back into the greenery, puzzled by the direction the monster was crawling.
Tong Bin’s home wasn’t that way, nor was the neighborhood’s exit...
Sheng Yao slowed his breath and continued the chase, following the monster to the community wall.
It vaulted onto the pristine white wall and vanished in seconds.
Sheng Yao crouched, then sprang upward, grabbing the top of the wall. As his foot was about to touch the smooth surface, a flash of clarity struck him; fingers, arms, shoulders, and back all tensed, and he managed to vault himself up in a gravity-defying flip, balancing inverted atop the wall like a child’s toy. As his momentum threatened to tip him over, he wiped the wall’s crown, erasing his fingerprints.
He landed softly on the sidewalk, his body folding naturally, though he felt no jarring impact.
The street was deserted. Across the road stood a row of villas, but none had been sold yet—the houses were pitch black, not a single light visible. Farther off, he could make out the silhouette of a crane. The street itself was much the same: lamp posts stood unlit, a pile of construction debris marking the end of the road.
By the faint moonlight, Sheng Yao spotted two unnaturally long legs vanishing between the villas.
He dashed across the road, leapt the railing.
He made not a sound.
The faster he ran, the more conscious he became of his own power.
His cells seemed to leap within him, blood roaring through his veins, adrenaline surging—yet his movements, too, were utterly silent.
It was as if his breath and heartbeat had ceased. He could feel his blood pulsing, his chest expanding and contracting...
He ran, his feet skimming the ground, almost gliding across the cement.
Wind brushed his ears, but he could hear none of his own vital sounds; instead, the rhythm of the monster’s four legs, and even the workings within its body, reached him clearly...
No, something was wrong!
No breathing, no heartbeat, no muscle contractions... It was a true monster. The back of each of its five heads was covered not with skin, but with a mass of ears.
Those ears suddenly trembled.
The monster’s limbs kept moving, but all five heads twisted around abruptly.
Only then did Sheng Yao lock eyes with the creature—
But that phrase wasn’t quite right.
He was staring into countless eyes.
And beneath those eyes stretched a jaw forced open so wide the mandible had dislocated, lined with enormous teeth still stained with unknown blood.
In that instant, Sheng Yao felt his heart and breath truly stop. His nerves snapped taut. He didn’t manage to shout “Tong Bin’s” name, but he unleashed a burst of strength and, in that time-stopping moment, launched himself at the monster, tackling it to the ground.
He had to stop it—while there was still a shred of sanity left!