Chapter Seventy-Three: Thunderstorm

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In the dark TV room, the projection screen glowed with a gentle, pale yellow light. Beneath the night-light, a point of crimson was the fire at the tip of a cigarette, while another glimmering spot—the reflection from the massive diamond ring on the hand holding the cigarette.

The woman’s face was shrouded in shadow, only her hands and her swollen belly illuminated by the lamp. Amidst drifting smoke, her phone began to vibrate. As the screen lit up, she immediately pressed the answer button and lifted it to her ear.

Whatever was said on the other end, the woman suddenly screamed, “I almost died! The last time, I nearly died! Are you people even capable of anything?!”

She leapt up and forcefully threw the cigarette away.

The ember danced in the darkness.

The camera followed, settling on half a cigarette for a steady close-up.

The background was dim, and only the woman’s receding howls, shrieks, and angry roars could be heard, along with the constant, vibrating “tap-tap-tap-tap” of pacing footsteps.

Tap, tap…

Two soft noises sounded in the TV room—not footsteps, but the doctor tapping his fingers.

Ten nails, as if signaled, became noisy, like a group of uncouth moviegoers.

The doctor narrowed his eyes, unfazed by the current clamor. He seemed to lose interest, raising his hand so the nails quieted, then picked up the remote and changed the channel.

…

The ringtone made Shengyao pause, his finger hovering over the camera’s shutter. He signaled to Bai Xiao, who was posing by a tree, to pause the photo.

The caller’s name surprised him.

“Hello, Miss Lu,” Shengyao spoke first, his tone questioning.

Lu Meimei’s apologetic voice came through, “Sorry to bother you, Mr. Sheng. I’m really sorry for before—when you went out of your way to bring Maomao back, my boyfriend misunderstood, and so did I. I never got the chance to thank you properly…”

Shengyao froze.

“I’m very sorry, truly. And thank you. Uh, do you have a moment now? Am I interrupting?” Lu Meimei still sounded uneasy and polite. “I wanted to talk to you about Maomao.”

“Please go ahead.” Shengyao beckoned to Bai Xiao and walked toward a bench by the roadside.

Tourists clustered among the sea of flowers and trees. The roadside benches were empty, making it convenient for Shengyao to avoid the crowds and take the call in peace.

Bai Xiao followed, taking Shengyao’s offered hand. Her right hand, with its ring on the fourth finger, was wrapped in his palm. This closeness let her overhear the faint voice leaking from the phone.

“We just finished Maomao’s funeral. Pet funerals are so considerate now—they have memorials and urns. I picked a plain one, with little cat ears on the lid. Jingjing—that’s the kitten Maomao found—she attended too. She’s clever, knows that Maomao is… in that little jar now. She’s so sweet, always sleeping curled around it. Though, she’s so tiny, she can’t quite hold the urn…”

Lu Meimei’s gentle, slightly smiling voice drifted to Shengyao.

“Sorry, I’m rambling… Actually, I called to apologize and thank you. Also, I’m about to move. My boyfriend and I are moving in together. We’ve found a new place—just renting for now, but it’s a nice neighborhood. If we decide to marry, we’ll just buy a place there. For now, we’re renting… We’re planning a housewarming, just us, our friends—a couple—and Jingjing. I was wondering if you’d like to join us for a meal. You mentioned you have a cat too? You can bring it along; Jingjing could make a new friend. I think… I think Maomao would want to meet a new friend too…”

Lu Meimei’s tone was still polite, a little distant, yet hopeful.

Shengyao knew her invitation was not just out of kindness. She probably wanted to know what had happened when Maomao passed. Perhaps she had long since realized something was different about Maomao. She recognized Maomao at a glance—that wasn’t something understanding alone could explain, nor could mere familiarity make anyone instantly believe that such a cat would end up in that state.

He felt a slight struggle in his palm.

Turning, he saw the crown of Bai Xiao’s head.

She slipped her hand from his grasp, then wrapped her arm around his, resting her head on his shoulder.

Shengyao couldn’t help but smile.

“I’m traveling—out of town, actually,” Shengyao gently declined, “I believe Maomao was very happy. Throughout its life, it was happy, and it loved you dearly. Even in the end.”

There was silence on the other end.

After a few seconds, Shengyao heard a soft laugh.

“Yes. I know. I’m happy too. Meeting Maomao… was truly wonderful…” Lu Meimei whispered, “And thank you. Thank you for bringing Maomao home in the end.”

“No need to thank me.”

“Well, let’s keep in touch. I’ll send you my new address later. If you ever have any trouble with your cat, you can always come to me.”

“All right. Goodbye.”

“Goodbye.”

Shengyao put away his phone and leaned his head against Bai Xiao’s.

“Shall we keep taking pictures?”

“There are too many people. The good spots are gone.”

“Shall we wait a bit?”

“Sure.”

“The sun is lovely today.”

“Mhm. And the breeze feels nice.”

“It does.”

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…

On the small television, the grainy image made it hard for viewers to make out the scene in the dimly lit room.

On the double bed were two figures—one calm, the other clearly trapped in a nightmare.

Shengyao’s body trembled and tossed, and as the camera drew nearer, beads of sweat were visible on his face.

Closer and closer, the camera pressed in—

The shot cut, in a strange, abrupt way, to another scene:

A similarly dark room, two figures again. Only a corner of the room was visible, and the two figures huddled there.

A flash of scarlet blood.

Suddenly, two twisted faces lunged close to the lens.

The nails’ inhalations and shrieks served as a warped sound effect, drawing the viewer’s nerves taut.

At that instant, the image seemed stretched by invisible hands—the two people grew more and more distorted, transforming into the emaciated, tormented corpses from news photos, then twisting further into ghastly demons.

A demon lunged at the viewer, its gaping, blood-red maw spilling out a voice that was not human: “It’s you… It’s because of you!”

The nails’ shrieking was piercing, equally inhuman.

The two sounds overlapped, then were swallowed by the roar of torrential rain.

In the next second, the TV screen showed a rain-soaked night, a glass door, and behind it, the still silhouette of a woman.

The image lasted only a moment before vanishing.

In its place was a calm night, the sound of breathing, and the terrified, very human eyes.

“Honey?” a woman’s gentle, puzzled call shattered the tension.

Light dispelled the darkness.

On the screen, Shengyao raised a hand to cover his face, his muffled voice emerging from behind his palm: “It’s nothing. Just a nightmare.”

“Are you all right?”

“Mhm.”

“Want to get some water?”

“I’ll get it myself. You go back to sleep.” Shengyao sat up.

He walked toward the camera, his figure blocking most of the shot. In the remaining sliver, Bai Xiao could be seen half-propped up.

Despite the low resolution, Bai Xiao’s furrowed brows were visible, though her eyes’ true emotions were not.

The camera quickly followed Shengyao into the kitchen.

Gurgle—

Water poured into a glass, but Shengyao stood still.

Slowly, the camera panned up, focusing on his lowered head.

Tap, tap…

The doctor absentmindedly tapped his fingers, listening to the nails’ mocking whispers. His cobalt blue eyes were unfocused, unchanged for a long time.

…

When Mr. Le called, Shengyao was touring Longcheng Museum with Bai Xiao. The exhibition hall was nearly empty, making his phone’s vibration uncomfortably loud.

For a moment, Shengyao felt the incoming call had disturbed the slumbering relics inside the glass cases.

He apologized to Bai Xiao and hurried out to a quiet corner for the call.

“Hey, it’s been a while since you’ve visited,” Mr. Le’s cheerful face and voice came through the line.

Shengyao smiled, “I’m out of town.”

“Oh? Traveling? Hope I’m not disturbing you,” Mr. Le’s tone softened.

“It’s fine,” Shengyao shook his head. “Is there something I can do for you?”

“Ah, yes. The kennel’s got new puppies! Didn’t you say you wanted to pick one with your girlfriend? Oh, but you’re traveling…” Mr. Le paused, thinking. “I’ll send you some videos I took a few days ago. Is your girlfriend with you? If you see one you like, you can reserve it. The kennel owner’s an old friend—I can have him hold one for you, or they’ll all be picked soon.”

“Thank you, really,” Shengyao said sincerely.

He had always known Mr. Le was warm-hearted, but hadn’t expected him to remember such a small matter.

Mr. Le laughed, “No trouble. I’ll let you be. Oh, and another thing. Remember that girl, Kong Yajie?”

Shengyao raised an eyebrow.

Mr. Le grinned widely, “She’s fine! The stalking incident was sorted out—she was really being followed, and the culprit’s been caught—well, not caught yet, he ran off, still not in police custody. Turns out he was involved in other crimes—corporate espionage, kidnappings, all sorts. It’s been all over the news.”

Shengyao nodded slightly, his gaze drifting to the large floor-to-ceiling window.

Outside, the sun was brilliant. The museum corridor was bathed in warmth and light.

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Yet in Shengyao’s mind, strange, shadowy images flickered—some he had witnessed, others dreamed, absurd and unreal.

In his ear was Mr. Le’s voice, interspersed with the sound of rain.

The rain—it felt as if it had never stopped since that night.

“…Anyway, Kong’s fine. I was going to refer her to the clinic, but she didn’t need it. She went to the hospital herself—it was just allergies. When she came with her husband to see her parents, she wore a special mask. She’s on medication now. Good thing she didn’t buy a dog on a whim, or she’d have had to give it away,” Mr. Le rambled on. “Which reminds me—you’re not allergic, but what about your girlfriend? Better check before buying a dog; it’d be a pain to find out after the fact.”

“She should be fine. We’ll check first,” Shengyao replied, returning to himself.

“Good, good. I’ll let you go now—” Mr. Le waved and ended the call.

Shengyao had barely put away his phone when the screen lit up—Mr. Le had sent several video files, all of puppies.

Shengyao laughed and, as he turned, saw Bai Xiao standing behind him.

“That was Mr. Le,” Shengyao said, putting away his phone. “He asked about us getting a dog.”

“Oh?” Bai Xiao was intrigued.

“I’ll show you his videos later—he filmed a ton of newborn puppies for us to choose from.”

“He’s so nice.”

“He really is.”

As Shengyao chatted absently, reentering the exhibit, he felt as though he were stepping into darkness.

Looking at the silent relics, he suddenly wondered—when had Bai Xiao come to stand behind him?

He glanced at her, but her expression gave nothing away.

Perhaps there was nothing to see.

…

On the TV screen, the two of them lay side by side in bed, heads together, watching videos of puppies scuttling and squirming across the phone.

Bai Xiao’s laughter rang clear and sweet.

Shengyao’s lips were curved in a smile as well.

“I can’t choose… Every one of them is so cute…” Bai Xiao drew out her words, part wistful, part vexed.

“Let’s wait until we get back and see them in person,” Shengyao put away his phone.

“All right. We’ll decide then.”

The two turned off the lights.

“Goodnight.”

“Goodnight. We have to get up early for the old town tomorrow.”

“Mhm. I’ve set the alarm.”

As their voices faded, steady breathing replaced the earlier cheer.

Shengyao lay with eyes closed, yet his eyeballs rolled beneath the lids.

His unease seemed to seep through the cathode ray screen, spreading through the TV room.

The nails’ muttering grew different. Ten nails, as if divided by differing opinions, debated anxiously, wary of disturbing their true master.

The doctor himself sat like a statue, or like a silent relic in a museum—eternal, watching the course of events in silence.

He did not move, only his dim blue eyes glinting imperceptibly.

The small TV abruptly vanished, replaced by a massive display that seemed to enlarge the entire room.

A woman’s agonized moans erupted.

She rolled on the floor, staring in horror and rage at her swollen belly.

Beneath the thin skin, a baby’s face surfaced.

Though not fully formed, its features were discernible—enough for one to see the baby’s eerie, ambiguous expression, somewhere between a cry and a smile.

The woman’s face and the baby’s face split the image in two.

The previously chattering nails fell instantly silent.

Boom—

Thunder exploded on screen.

With the thunder, the TV room went utterly dark, as if the power had been cut.