When he returned home in the evening, Aunt was already asleep on the sofa, with the TV still playing “Ultimate Transform Transform.”
She really loved that show and had even specially rented DVDs to watch.
Shen Yao’s movements as he took off his shoes woke Shen Qingxiao.
She groggily asked, “Have you eaten? Should I make you something?”
But her body remained limp on the sofa, unable to get up after a long while—she was simply too tired.
Shen Yao answered softly, “I’ve already eaten, with Cheng Orange. You go ahead and sleep.”
Shen Qingxiao mumbled a response, and just as Shen Yao thought she’d fallen asleep, she muttered again, “Did you find a summer job?”
“Uh, not yet.”
“Our Publisher is recruiting interns this year. Want to try?”
“If there’s a chance, of course I’d like to.”
Shen Yao waited a bit but got no reply from Aunt.
Walking over to the sofa, he realized she’d already fallen fast asleep.
He grabbed a blanket to cover her, then went to the kitchen to boil water for instant noodles.
After a simple dinner, he rolled up his sleeves and cleaned the bathroom.
Only after finishing all this did he finally have time to flip through his summer homework and complete a bit of it.
At eleven that night, he helped Aunt turn off the TV, checked that the gas was off, made sure the doors and windows were locked, and finally returned to his room to get ready for bed.
In the past, he would always read some miscellaneous books before sleep, like “You Who Strive Will Thank Yesterday’s Self” or “Secrets of Human Nature: The Cannibalistic Thick-Black Theory.”
It wasn’t really for knowledge, but to speculate about the author’s personality from the words in these utterly useless money-grabbing publications.
Different authors, different writing habits, and different literary styles all reflect different essences.
Just like interacting with people—judging by appearance alone isn’t always appropriate, but it does have value and meaning.
He would use this to train his own logical thinking and imagination.
But not tonight.
His mind was unsettled; he couldn’t focus on any text. Lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, the incident with the Strangeness over the phone replayed in his mind.
In this world, things like that actually existed.
Qiao Yunxue, Strangeness, Zero Dimension, Forum Eye of Berlin, Inspiration, Heidelich, Estelle…
How many other such things existed in the hidden corners of the world?
As he was thinking, he suddenly heard a noise from downstairs.
Shen Yao made a quiet sound of surprise. Could Aunt be awake?
Then he heard a string of whispering voices, as if two people were talking in low voices out in the corridor.
Shen Yao tensed up all over, countless Security Warning Case scenarios flashing through his mind.
When he was a child, an old woman in his village lived alone.
One night, a pair of Correctional Labor Criminals broke into her house, strangled her, and stole what little she had left.
Cases like that weren’t uncommon on this land, no matter the time or place.
He grabbed the Fruit Knife from his desk and quietly moved to the door.
Through the crack, he could see shadows pacing back and forth outside.
The two shadows stopped in front of his room, whispering in a language Shen Yao didn’t understand.
Not Aunt…
Shen Yao tiptoed to the peephole, craning his neck to look through.
But all he saw through the peephole was a massive, bloodshot eyeball staring right back at him.
Shen Yao stumbled backward in terror, feeling cold sweat all down his back.
When he finally mustered the courage to look again, the hallway outside was empty; even the shifting shadows had vanished.
Shen Yao opened his door and walked carefully downstairs, finding Aunt still asleep on the sofa. The locks on the doors were intact, with no sign of a break-in.
Another hallucination… over and over, again and again—how much longer would he be tormented like this?
Why this time? Was it the fear of living alone with Aunt? Or the worry about vicious criminals breaking in?
Feeling a bit dejected, he returned to his room and, after thinking for a long time, took out the Fluvoxamine Tablets Qiao Yunxue had given him.
He popped one into his mouth and tasted a milky flavor. Do all these antidepressants taste like this?
He often felt like he was just imitating a normal person, but some habits couldn’t be faked.
Ever since his parents died, he’d gotten used to chewing pills raw, savoring the bitterness.
If it was a capsule, he’d dissolve the coating on his tongue and let the granules warm under it, letting the pain spread through his whole mouth—as if that could relieve his sense of guilt.
But he knew very well that was just a form of mild self-torture.
They say people who are too pessimistic can’t be happy; people who are too clear-headed can’t either. Shen Yao was both.
Rather than a medicine, this felt more like a milk candy… Did Qiao Yunxue give him the wrong thing?
Maybe it was the medication kicking in, but gradually, Shen Yao’s restless thoughts faded and he drifted into a deep sleep.
*
The next morning, Shen Yao woke up very early—five o’clock, a full hour before his alarm.
He woke up suddenly, his heart racing with a strange, inexplicable sense of unease.
Only after washing up did the feeling gradually subside, and Shen Yao wondered if it was a side effect of the medicine Qiao Yunxue had given him.
He had agreed to go shopping with Cheng Orange at seven.
Since it was still early, he decided to tinker with changing his QQ password.
Security question? What was Mom’s birthday? How would I know Qiao Yunxue’s mom’s birthday?
He randomly typed in a number, but the system told him the answer was wrong.
He gave up and just used Qiao Yunxue’s birthday as the new password. It was just a string of numbers anyway.
It was then that he noticed both Qiao Yunxue and Cheng Orange had messaged him on QQ last night.
After a moment’s thought, Shen Yao decided to check Qiao Yunxue’s messages first.
“Minion, are you asleep? Did you take your medicine?”
Five minutes later, another: “If you’re not feeling well, you must tell me.”
A minute after that.
“Don’t get the wrong idea, I’m just worried my useful minion won’t be able to work for me anymore.”
“Reply to me as soon as you see this.”
Five more minutes.
“?”
“Shen Yao, where are you?”
Unfortunately, Shen Yao had already fallen asleep by then and couldn’t reply.
But was Qiao Yunxue really a Night Owl? Who sends messages past midnight? Doesn’t she sleep?
Well, she sleeps in class during the day, and at night she’s up doing mysterious research.
No wonder she’s a Night Owl.
But why did Cheng Orange message him at that hour too?
Shen Yao clicked on Cheng Orange’s profile and started reading from the top.
The first message was a waving soybean emoji to say hello. After waiting a bit and getting no reply, she typed: “Shen Yao, are you there?”
The next message, ten minutes later:
“Shen Yao, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to ignore you before. I don’t even know what was wrong with me. Just seeing you made me so angry. After you talked to me today, I thought about it for a long, long time tonight, and I found some news online—you really weren’t lying to me. So in the end, it was just me, all on my own, getting mad at you for nothing…”
There was a long string of messages after that, practically an essay.
This girl had poured out all her confused feelings in one go.
Basically, she thanked Shen Yao for being willing to make up with her, and hoped he wouldn’t mind.
Afterwards, she sent another frustrated little soybean emoji. It seemed she regretted sending those messages and didn’t say anything more after that.
Shen Yao first replied to Qiao Yunxue: “I’m off today, let’s talk tomorrow if you need anything. The medicine you gave me works well.”
Then he messaged Cheng Orange: “What time are we heading out today?”