The mud on the soles of his shoes remained on the floor, and Qi Yan locked the security door, bolting it from the inside.
Hidden under the raincoat, his hand clutched tightly, nails digging in. Qi Yan's breathing became labored; the media had dubbed him the Rainy Night Murderer, a moniker he found satisfying—cruel, insane, and filled with terror.
"How should I thank him for taking me in?"
His eyes nearly veiled by bloodshot threads, Qi Yan stared at Gao Ming's back. He loved to hunt those kind-hearted people, to crush all that was beautiful under his feet, stamping down again and again.
"Having such a kind disposition must mean he has a happy family, surely well protected by his dad and mom. A flower grown in a greenhouse has no idea how bad people can truly be."
Without removing his raincoat hood, Qi Yan's features contorted as he pondered how to torment Gao Ming.
"You must be starving." Gao Ming brought out the specially prepared food and poured a glass of water, "Today is my birthday, and I made more food than usual. Would you like to try some cake?"
The cake on the table had been brought by Weird Dad and Weird Mom, and Gao Ming felt that good things should be shared.
"No need." Qi Yan didn't touch anything on the table, probably fearing he might leave a trace: "It seems like someone is calling for you in the bedroom?"
"My parents are also at home." Gao Ming's face revealed a bitter smile: "Their health isn't great; they've been confined to their bedroom, unable to move."
"They keep calling for you. Don't you need to check on them?" In Qi Yan's mind, Gao Ming was already a dead man: "Why not go and greet your dad and mom?"
"I'm quite introverted and don't really dare to talk to them much." Gao Ming sighed lightly, limping towards the bedroom: "They're ill, with some peculiar symptoms, and they need peace and quiet."
Qi Yan also heard noises coming from the bedroom. He followed Gao Ming to the door, where the light began to warp and the temperature was much lower than in the living room.
Grasping the doorknob, Gao Ming opened the bedroom door and took a step backward at the same time.
With a hint of curiosity, Qi Yan peered into the bedroom.
The shadows in the bedroom were receding, half-filled with a hazy light, half with a thick darkness.
At the borderline of light and shadow, there were terrifying, ghastly faces and twisted, entangled bodies! The monsters disguised as dad and mom went berserk upon seeing Gao Ming, dragging each other toward the bedroom door!
This horrifying scene, beyond all comprehension, made Qi Yan feel suffocated; he had assumed there would just be two sickly elderly people inside!
Instinctively dodging backward, he turned and saw Gao Ming lifting a heavy vase; he faintly remembered the man had claimed to be very introverted.
"Crack!"
Porcelain shards scattered, and Qi Yan's cheeks were stained red with blood. He felt the world spin, and as his body fell, the "kind" man forcibly poured a glass of "water" down his throat with apparent "consideration."
The whole action was completed in one fluid motion, as if rehearsed many times before.
"You could have chosen a painless drug induction, but you insisted on physical sedation," Gao Ming squatted beside Qi Yan: "Don't be afraid, you'll lose sensation soon and won't feel any pain."
After hearing Gao Ming's words, Qi Yan's eyes widened with terror; he had no idea what Gao Ming would do to him.
His gaze drifting, Qi Yan caught sight of the many "parents" bound and tied throughout the room, then looked back at the composed Gao Ming. In that moment, the horror peaked.
What kind of madman was this?
Deception, manipulation, domination, pleasure, revenge, and greed—he possessed all the traits of a deranged Murdering Demon. Cold and complex, cunning and dangerous, even his methods and process of crime bore distinct hallmarks of profound distortion!
"Why do I feel like you're cursing me with your eyes?"
Gao Ming pressed down on Qi Yan's back, grabbed his hair, and lifted his head, forcing him to look straight into the bedroom, "Before the drug takes effect, I want to ask you a question. Can you see the people in the bedroom?"
Qi Yan's eyes were filled with terror; he could no longer respond. Intense pain shot through his head, his heart was under immense shock, and the influence of the drug began to slowly take effect.
It was as if he had just crossed the Naihe Bridge and had only drunk half of the Meng Po Soup before being violently struck with a blunt object, caught between life and death, remembering and forgetting.
"Judging from your reaction, you should be able to see," Gao Ming said as he tied up Qi Yan's limbs, "My mind isn't playing tricks, the game has indeed become reality in some peculiar way."
The shadows in the bedroom were dissolving faster now. The Weird Dad and Weird Mom screamed as they merged into the darkness, seemingly out of place in the real world, appearing only due to some reason when the two worlds overlapped.
Gao Ming could distinctly feel the temperature rising and his breathing becoming easier, "My game seems to have become a medium, connecting reality with the realm of the Weird Mom. Everything should return to normal after completing the game. But if I keep ignoring it, will these ghost stories continue to spread? Until they are fully intertwined with reality, never to be separated again?"
Four-fifths of the bedroom was now occupied by normal light; after being compressed and mingled to a certain degree, one of the Weird Moms suddenly broke free!
Her eyes full of almost sickly doting, she lunged at Gao Ming, dragging all the shadows with her!
Caught off guard, Gao Ming turned and ran, but Qi Yan behind him was not so fortunate.
In the last moment of dispersal, the Weird Mom dragged Qi Yan into that shadow. A piercing scream echoed as something seemed to be taken from Qi Yan by the Weird Mom.
At 4:44 in the morning, the bedroom was completely back to normal. Gao Ming entered with a mop. The Weird Dad and Weird Mom, as if they had never appeared, along with their cake and candles, were all gone. Only Qi Yan remained, lying there staring blankly.
His eyes were empty, as if his soul had been sucked out, resembling a vegetative state.
In the spot where the Weird Mom had vanished, Gao Ming found two very frightening black-and-white photos, "Is this the reward for completing the game?"
The photos were old and tattered, made of some unknown material, looking as if they had been taken many years ago.
One of them showed Gao Ming sitting at a dining table eating cake, surrounded by a dense crowd of Weird Dads and Weird Moms—a group photo of sorts.
Notably, in this photo, everything—cake, furniture, numerous parents—was black-and-white, except for Gao Ming himself, who was in color.
When he flipped over the photo, there was some strange writing scrawled on the back.
"To my dear child: You are now an adult at eighteen, and from today, you are the new head of the household, with the keys to the family door."
"Our house lies between existence and non-existence, hidden in the deepest nightmares, at the absurd edges close to reality. It is far from you, yet connected to the darkest part of every heart."
"As the head of the household, you can choose to save every family member, give them equal love, use them as tools, or even choose to torture them in more twisted ways."
"You have complete freedom, and what we need you to do is very simple: let more people play the game after night falls. Various energies emanating from their bodies can feed certain things in the rumors."
The words on the back of the photo looked like they were written haphazardly by a child, messy, and also smeared with bloodstains, making them uncomfortable to look at.
"Head of the household?"
Picking up the second black-and-white photo, Gao Ming furrowed his brow. The photo showed Qi Yan's face, scared stiff—as if it was his obituary. The back of the photo also had some strange writing.
"Photos of family members: Only those with a deep tenacity for reality, those in a state near death, those desperate for death, trapped in nightmares, mentally disturbed, or those with heavy sins can find and enter our home, becoming part of our family. We are the closest station to death, and our existence offers them a second choice besides death."
"However, the vast majority who come here regret not having chosen death directly."