Bang.
A thick stack of books slammed down in front of Shen Yao, sending up a cloud of dust so dense he couldn’t open his eyes.
When he looked carefully, he saw they were all books on mysticism. If he saw them in a bookstore, Shen Yao wouldn’t have given them a second glance.
Qiao Yunxue blew hard, only to inhale a mouthful of dust, coughing uncontrollably, her body curled up like a shrimp.
Shen Yao tried to help her, but Qiao Yunxue waved him off, as if she wasn’t used to accepting help from others.
She coughed and spoke at the same time.
“If you want to help me—cough cough—you have to cram knowledge of Guaiyiology.”
Guaiyiology?
Is that even a real field of study?
Her eyes were red as she dry-heaved and explained.
“It’s a discipline I organized and summarized myself over the years.”
Folk science… Not much different from Frankenstein using lightning to create life.
Shen Yao opened the top book out of curiosity and found, sure enough, it was Qiao Yunxue’s notes.
But the handwriting was messy, and there were lots of human diagrams he couldn’t understand at all.
Qiao Yunxue finally caught her breath. She sat across the desk, snatched the book from Shen Yao’s hands, and turned on the computer in the study.
“Shen Yao, what do you think the Guaiyi—what you encountered that night—really was?”
“Ghost?”
Qiao Yunxue nodded, then shook her head.
“Ordinary people can call them Ghosts, but I’ll tell you, they aren’t Ghosts—they’re Guaiyi.”
“Everyone has a Little Stream in their heart. This Little Stream represents all of a person’s spirit and will—their joys, loves, worries, and fears are all included.
And all people’s Little Streams flow into the same Great River. The Great River represents humanity’s subconscious, collective consciousness, or whatever else you want to call it.”
She used a drawing program on the computer to sketch a crooked diagram.
On top of the “Little Stream” and “Great River,” she drew a huge circle.
“And outside our material world, there’s a space that was originally empty—until the Great River became so turbulent it could project entities into this Void Space.
Human hearts thus gained form. The Forum Administrator of the Berlin Forum calls this space the Zero Dimension.”
Little Stream, Great River, Void Space, Berlin Forum, Zero Dimension…
All this messy knowledge poured into Shen Yao’s mind, making him feel as if the past decade of his life had been wasted.
Maybe in the next second, someone would use a stun baton to shock the brain in the vat, and he’d wake up instantly?
He hesitated.
“So, you mean those Ghosts—or rather, Guaiyi—are actually projections of the human mind in another dimension? That people see what they think?”
“Bingo!”
Qiao Yunxue nodded happily.
“You catch on fast.”
“Go on.”
“Originally, Guaiyi from the Zero Dimension could only intermittently affect the material world. In the past, limited information transmission meant the influence of the human mind was restricted. But as the internet developed and media advanced, the Zero Dimension began to expand uncontrollably.
Even the smallest urban legend could, once it spread online, affect hundreds or thousands of people, allowing Guaiyi to descend. They’re born from intense emotions and arrive in the material world through the spread of those feelings.”
Qiao Yunxue drew a monster with claws and fangs on the drawing board.
“The first Guaiyi to appear in the material world was Heidrich of Berlin, landing in Berlin, Germany in 1991. It’s said that on the day it appeared, all the city’s rats swarmed out, piling up into human shapes and imitating people as they wandered the lamp-less streets at night.
Heidrich of Berlin is also considered the earliest Guaiyi amplified by the internet, and remains one that has never been analyzed to this day.”
Heidrich of Berlin…
Berlin…
Heidrich…
Shen Yao felt his head itch.
Why did he have a sense of déjà vu?
Had he dreamed about it in a nightmare before?
Qiao Yunxue continued.
“The Berlin Forum was originally established to study Heidrich. Now, it has members all over the world. We’re a group of strangers, gathered by Guaiyi—‘Martyrs.’”
Martyrs, huh?
That’s a pretty accurate description…
In any case, people who actively seek out Guaiyi can’t really be considered normal.
Qiao Yunxue opened another book.
“Then there’s my own research, based on the information I collected and summarized.”
“First, Guaiyi can’t be seen or encountered by ordinary people. Only those with inspiration can meet them. In other words, people with strong wills, firm materialist beliefs, and robust vitality won’t see Guaiyi or be harmed by them.
Sensitive minds, those with low spirits, personality defects, or those who’ve experienced major trauma are more likely to encounter Guaiyi… Or perhaps children whose intelligence is just awakening, or elders nearing death.”
At this, Qiao Yunxue couldn’t help glancing at Shen Yao.
Shen Yao didn’t look like someone weak-willed, so had he experienced some major trauma?
Was the pain of that event deeper than her own grief from losing her mother, giving him inspiration?
“Then, Guaiyi often come with certain self-restricting rules. On the forum, I’ve collected survivors’ accounts. Logically, ordinary people shouldn’t survive encounters with Guaiyi, but those survivors always escape for all sorts of inexplicable reasons.
I suspect Guaiyi themselves are flawed—they exist due to intense emotion and are inherently irrational. And internet urban legends are both their mode of spread and the container that limits them; their actions can’t go beyond the scope of the legend and emotion.”
“Like the phone call that night—when we hung up, we stopped the Guaiyi from approaching and suffered no retaliation.
This suggests that this Guaiyi could only exist through the act of ‘calling.’ Compared to other Guaiyi, this one is absolutely safe and controllable.”
Safe and controllable?
In the face of an unknown evil, is anything really safe and controllable?
“Your theory is too idealistic.”
Shen Yao judged.
He didn’t want to argue with Qiao Yunxue.
“I think I get it. How do you want me to help you?”
A faint, unnatural blush appeared on Qiao Yunxue’s face.
“Shen Yao, let’s catch this Phone Ghost together!”
Shen Yao’s eyes widened.
“Catch it?”
“Yes, catch it! Only by catching it can we understand the secrets of Guaiyi more deeply.”
Her gaze swept over the books on the table.
“All this data is just speculation—even the Forum Administrator of the Berlin Forum has no solid proof. I need something more real for evidence. Shen Yao, let’s capture a Guaiyi!”
—
Stepping down from the Maybach, Shen Yao still felt a bit dizzy.
In just half an hour, he’d taken in so much information that reality itself felt unreal.
Guaiyi, or whatever—this was almost like a fairy tale…
Had he really become mentally ill?
He staggered to the door, bumping into something by his foot.
Looking down, he saw a wrinkled gift box.
Blue, small, with its corners crushed out of shape, even the ribbon was missing.
There was a small card on the box, scribbled over so much with black ink that the words were unrecognizable.
Whoever sent it must have been struggling over something.
He opened the gift box and found a delicate Snow Globe inside.
When he wound it up, the Little Snowman inside began to dance, playing a beautiful tune.
“Gugu, who sent this gift?”
A voice came from inside the house.
“What gift?”
Shen Yao quietly accepted the present.
“Nothing.”
He looked back, sensing something, but all he saw was a flicker of clothing disappearing around the street corner—and a wall plastered with meaningless advertisement stickers.