The plan proceeded as scheduled.
She walked through the swimming hall, absent-mindedly weaving a new tale for The Swimmer’s Tale.
This time, her inspiration came from Chuck Palahniuk’s work.
“There’s a rumor that a female college student got stuck to a drain outlet, and it was a whole hour before she was found. By the time she was rescued, half her intestines and organs had disappeared. In the end, the firefighters found her lost organs along the drainage pipe.”
Shen Yao made a disgusted noise. “So just how desperate would she have felt before dying? Watching her own insides get sucked out, bit by bit? Just like in one of Chuck Palahniuk’s stories?”
Qiao Yunxue was briefly taken aback.
She’d never thought anyone would recognize the source of her inspiration.
Shen Yao always managed to surprise her, as if he were a dancer long condemned to solitude, who unexpectedly found an audience able to keep pace with his rhythm in a strange city.
Yet the more it was so, the greater the torment in her heart.
She felt like she was becoming less and less like Qiao Yunxue—becoming indecisive, starting to care about other people’s feelings.
She used to see herself as a movie villain: aloof, arrogant, misunderstood by the ordinary protagonist despite her grand ambitions. But now? Now she felt more and more like a madwoman bent on revenge against the world.
They weren’t wrong—Qiao Yunxue really was a lunatic, someone unworthy of love.
But…Shen Yao, why?
She stared blankly as Shen Yao gave her a thumbs up, then jumped into the pool.
She watched with wide eyes as, after plunging in, Shen Yao’s movements grew sluggish, then started making gestures she could not comprehend.
She knew—he was seeing another “hallucination.”
She was already in her swimsuit, and dove in after him, nosebleed streaming, hoping to catch a glimpse of what Shen Yao was seeing.
In a sense, Shen Yao was the real misunderstood villain.
The terrifying things he saw existed in the Zero Dimension, but no ordinary person could perceive them.
Those oddities—if left unchecked—would eventually invade the human world through his illness.
Just like in those Japanese cartoons from last century: a captive patient, tormented by crazed monsters in his mind, whose unleashed madness would devastate the living world.
But Shen Yao wasn’t that kind of person.
As long as he still wanted to live—still clung to life no matter the means—those aberrations would never reach the human world.
A tragedy born of inspiration could never happen to Shen Yao.
Watching Shen Yao perform his strange, inexplicable movements, Qiao Yunxue’s eyes stung. She couldn’t tell if she was crying, not in the water.
She slowly swam toward Shen Yao, like the Red-haired Mermaid Princess, and embraced him from behind, whispering, “Shen Yao, it’ll be over soon. Hang on, just a little longer. Just a little longer.”
She could already make out a vague, terrifying scene of the deep sea—but it wasn’t clear enough.
Her inspiration still wasn’t enough.
Or perhaps what Shen Yao saw was even more fearsome than any horror story.
Suddenly, Shen Yao raised his Camera and snapped a series of photos of the pool’s drain.
After that, he seemed to lose consciousness all at once, let out a muffled groan, and sank to the bottom.
Qiao Yunxue was alarmed.
She grabbed Shen Yao by the waist and hauled him toward the edge.
He was drowning.
Qiao Yunxue desperately recalled every bit of first-aid knowledge she could, began pressing his chest and abdomen, trying to force the water out of his lungs.
But after several tries with little effect, she simply tied up her wet red hair, leaned down, and pressed her lips to Shen Yao’s, beginning artificial respiration.
She didn’t care at all that it was her first kiss—just as she didn’t care if she’d live to see twenty.
All she knew was that if she didn’t save Shen Yao now, she’d regret it for the rest of her life.
How ironic, wasn’t it?
The Qiao Yunxue who only knew how to destroy others, would go so far to save someone else.
What did Shen Yao mean to her?
Lackey, sidekick, patient, or accomplice?
All of them.
But he was also more.
He was the sunlight cast into her shadowed world, the fellow traveler who appeared when she was alone in the dark, the lifeline stretching from the abyss.
But sadly, her world, even with sunlight, would never have a sun; in the darkness, though there was a companion, their paths would never truly meet; at the edge of the abyss, though there was a rope, she no longer had the hands to grasp it.
At least, for now, that bit of trust between them was already enough to make her life worth living.
After her efforts, Shen Yao finally started breathing again.
He coughed violently, gagged, but at least he had turned back from the brink.
Just before losing consciousness, Shen Yao’s gaze landed on the Camera by the pool.
Qiao Yunxue draped her jacket over Shen Yao, then walked barefoot to the poolside and picked up the waterproof digital Camera.
She checked the shooting history, and her pupils shrank.
It was there.
There was no image of a pool drain in the Camera—only endless, universe-like darkness, deep water without end.
One photo made her heart pound: a Blood-Mouthed Maw slowly opening in the darkness, its crimson walls and tentacle-like tongue all marking it as something never meant for this world.
What sort of aberration had Shen Yao encountered in that hallucination?
What was even stranger: why could a Camera capture hallucinations?
Or was it not the Camera, but the person holding it, that could capture them?
If so, did it mean Shen Yao’s visions were real?
Just not in their world—but all taking place in that nightmare called the Zero Dimension.
As she thought, her mother must be there, too.
After leaving this world, she lived on in the fire and water of the Zero Dimension, just as Qiao Yunxue had guessed.
She couldn’t bring her mother back—but at least, she could go keep her company.
What kind of dimension was the Zero Dimension, truly?
Her nose felt hot.
She reached up to touch it—blood flowed without end.
Qiao Yunxue glanced back at the unconscious Shen Yao.
After long consideration, she decided to delete the photos from the Camera.
Those photos were proof enough of certain truths—there was no need to leave them in the world and cause more trouble.
And her inspiration…was already enough.
Gazing directly into the Zero Dimension—even through photos—was enough to heighten her inspiration.
Most members of the Forum Eye of Berlin sought ways to lower their inspiration.
Only she was different.
Only she wanted to raise hers.
But even so, it wasn’t enough.
She still lacked a final piece for her grand design.
Perhaps, what Shen Yao had seen in his hallucination could fill that last blank.
She snapped a few more pictures of the pool, then took out her phone and called the driver.
“Come pick up me and Shen Yao at the Xilin City Swimming Hall. Now.”
After hanging up, she looked at Shen Yao lying on the ground.
She couldn’t help but touch her lips, as if a trace of warmth still lingered there.