Kaleidoscope of Death

The mistress’ atelier was located at the upper levels of the castle, the seventh floor.

Xiao Su had subsequently vanished after visiting the seventh floor. Yet, according to the male companion who was with her, they never entered the mistress’ art studio; they merely studied the paintings nearby.

After ascending the winding staircase to the seventh floor, Ruan Nanzhu and Lin Qiushi were, once again, presented with the ghostly sight of a long, tenebrous passageway. The dim corridor of this floor extended boundlessly, to where the eye could barely reach. The floors were overlaid with thick carpet, covering the whole area from the stairs and cutting off right before the door to the studio at the end of the hall.

The atelier was essentially different from the rest of the rooms in this corridor. A large black cloth enshrouded the entire doorway; it appeared that the master of that studio didn’t wish for the faintest of light to pierce through any crevices in the door.

“Where could she be right now?” Tan Zaozao was afraid and hesitant. Rubbing the protruding goosebumps on her arms, she fretfully whispered, “It’d be awkward as hell if she’s in the middle of painting when we barge inside the studio.”

“Well, let’s hope she isn’t inside the studio then.” Ruan Nanzhu said. “Stay here. I’ll knock on the door first.”

Ruan Nanzhu wasn’t joking when he said he’d knock first. In three large strides, he easily bridged the distanced between him and the atelier, before coming to a full stop in front of the door. Then, he raised hand, and knocked politely.

Upon seeing Ruan Nanzhu boldly knock on the door, Tan Zaozao’s eyes grew as wide as saucers. She gasped in shock, “Holy shit—just how big are his guts?!”

Lin Qiushi, who was used to this by now, didn’t show much of a reaction. He calmly stated, “He’s always had big guts.”

Ruan Nanzhu’s repeated knocks were met with hushed silence. He rapped his knuckles against the door one last time, ensuring no one was on the other side.

“Let’s go in now,” spoke Ruan Nanzhu.

“It’s locked though.” Tan Zaozao pointed out. “How are we supposed to get inside?”

Ruan Nanzhu fished out a hairpin from his pocket and stooped over, ever so naturally getting down to business.

Tan Zaozao: “…” To think she almost forgot about Ruan Nanzhu’s godly skills.

Crouched down, he fiddled with the keyhole for a while. Before long, the lock issued a furtive click as it was opened by Ruan Nanzhu. He then gently gripped the doorknob in one hand and slowly twisted it open, soon revealing the room’s interior. He peeked inside the studio from the doorway, before turning about and beckoning over to Lin Qiushi, “You’ll come in with me. Tan Zaozao, you’ll keep watch by the door, and alert us of anything suspicious.”

Tan Zaozao nodded obediently.

Lin Qiushi took a step forward, and entered the atelier with Ruan Nanzhu.

The studio wasn’t at all big, and the lighting was beyond poor. The windows were screened by heavy black curtains, completely blocking any stream of natural light from meandering inside. They could only rely on crepuscular glow cast by the faded, flickering lights overhead, but that wasn’t nearly enough to dispel the obscuring darkness; as a matter of fact, they had to strain their vision quite a bit to observe the situation of the room.

At the center of the atelier was a draped canvas set atop an easel. The pungent fumes of acrid paint invaded the entire room, suffocating them.

As usual, Ruan Nanzhu didn’t waste any time. He promptly walked over to the fixed easel and lifted the tarp at once.

The removal of the drop cloth unveiled the existence of an unfinished painting. Lin Qiushi stood aghast at the sight of the artwork before his eyes, “This is…”

“The Last Supper¹,” finished Ruan Nanzhu.

At first glance, the painting certainly bore resemblance to The Last Supper. The art piece vividly depicted the sublime, dramatic scene of a group of individuals sharing a final meal on a grand dining table. Yet, upon a closer look, one would discover that the people attending this classic dinner were not Christ and his twelve apostles. No, rather, it was them—that’s right, every single one of them who had entered this door world were captured in this ­­­painting.

Ruan Nanzhu. Lin Qiushi. Tan Zaozao. Everyone. They were all gathered together at this large dinner table, either eating their worldly meals with their heads bowed or softly conversing with their neighbors.

This painting would’ve been fairly acceptable and far less shocking had it been a faithful representation of them, but, of course, that wasn’t the case. Almost all of the figures illustrated in this art piece had no faces; they were left utterly bare of features. Lin Qiushi only managed to distinguish the characters in the painting because of the familiar clothes they were wearing.

“Her face has been drawn in.” Ruan Nanzhu pointed towards a young woman at the corner of the painting. “She must be Xiao Su.”

Lin Qiushi followed Ruan Nanzhu’s extended finger and studied the spot he indicated. At the edge of the dining table sat a young woman whose face was pictured clearly. The expression on her face was not one of pleasure or serenity, but of indescribable horror and agitation, so vivid and lifelike. It was as if all the misery trapped within canvas had come to life with this one drip of colour from the painter’s palette. The tormenting breath of despair caressed Lin Qiushi’s being, insidiously embedding itself in the depths of his heart; he could distinctly feel these wretched emotions, as if he was a part of the painting itself.

Aside from this painting, there was nothing particularly noteworthy in this studio. After scouring the entire area in vain, Ruan Nanzhu didn’t dare loiter here any longer. Without delay, he took Lin Qiushi out of the room and locked the door behind them.

Seeing them exit the studio, Tan Zaozao anxiously inquired about the situation inside, asking them wh­­­at they saw.

“A painting.” Lin Qiushi revealed. “A painting of us having supper.”

He described the picture he saw. After hearing the circumstances, Tan Zaozao gulped loudly and fearfully stammered, “T-that girl, Xiao Su…she really became a part of the painting, didn’t she?”

“Mhm,” supposed Ruan Nanzhu. “That seems to be the case. I want to check out the sixth floor.”

Lin Qiushi supported his action, “Let’s go.”

The particular room they had in mind was the very place the steward strictly warned them of—the exhibition room of unfinished arts

As its name suggested, this warehouse was where incomplete paintings were being stored. Ruan Nanzhu instantly located the room on the sixth floor, effortlessly unlocked the door and entered with Lin Qiushi.

The dreary ambience of this unfinished exhibition room was slightly more tolerable than that of the atelier. At least the windows were not curtained off by drapes of the blackest ebony, and the room itself was relatively spacious.

Various abstract works of art were scattered about the interior of this room, decking the walls and grounds. Lin Qiushi casually scanned his surroundings, only to discover that several of these pieces remained unfinished, while a vast majority of these canvases were left bleached of colour and devoid of subject, utterly blank.

Ruan Nanzhu’s sense of observation was as sharp as ever. His eyes swiftly swept across the hundreds of paintings, and he quickly found what he had been looking for. He softly called out to Lin Qiushi, who was still looking around, “Qiushi.”

Having walked over to the other’s side, Lin Qiushi finally saw what it was that caught Ruan Nanzhu’s attention. The thin hairs on the nape of his neck bristled as he regarded the painting at the end of Ruan Nanzhu’s pointed finger. His voice surrendered to silence for a long, stifling moment, before he finally let out a hoarse croak, “This is…my bedroom.”

“Yes.” Ruan Nanzhu confirmed. “It is your bedroom.”

The layout was exactly the same, from the minor details within his room to the very scenery outside of his window. This painting before Lin Qiushi’s eyes was clearly his bedroom. The door to his chamber was drawn wide open, and the floors were visibly sopping with foul water—it was a replica of that hellish nightmare that had transpired the night before. However, an important piece of the painting was missing. Near the open door was a blank space, as if it was specifically reserved for a certain someone—for Lin Qiushi.

“If you didn’t realize the Tan Zaozao that night was a complete fake,” Ruan Nanzhu gazed at the haunting painting, his voice, was frighteningly calm, “You surely would have filled this spot on the canvas.”

Lin Qiushi: “…Yeah.”

Ruan Nanzhu commented, “Nonetheless, this painting is quite fascinating. I wonder if we can take it out with us.” Although he said so, he didn’t have the slightest intentions to touch the painting with his bare hands. He then swiveled around on his heels. “Let’s go. There’s nothing else to see.”

Lin Qiushi asked, “You memorized the paintings?”

Ruan Nanzhu replied, “To some extent.”

In actuality, Ruan Nanzhu had only took note of the rough idea represented in the artworks. As Ruan Nanzhu and Lin Qiushi left the room, he explained, “It’s pointless to commit such things to memory. These paintings are displayed at every corner of this castle, and they cannot be avoided.”

Lin Qiushi sighed.

“As long as you’re cautious from now on, there shouldn’t be any issues.” Ruan Nanzhu reassured. “After all, this is a lower-tiered door, so the conditions for death aren’t as harsh, relatively speaking.”

Tan Zaozao grumbled in objection, arguing that the conditions were beyond harsh. It wasn’t even a matter of question; needless to say, she would’ve already been six feet under had she been in Lin Qiushi’s position last night. Just who in the world could possibly think clearly and composedly when confronted by such a harrowing situation?

Ruan Nanzhu glanced at her from his peripheral vision, and, showing a rare instance of kindness, he gently consoled her, “Do not worry. If you become a painting…”

With sparkling eyes, Tan Zaozao’s eagerly finished, “You guys will save me?”

Ruan Nanzhu: “We will certainly remember you and your final moments in our hearts, and continue living our lives to the fullest for you, so that you can pass away peacefully and without any worries.”

Tan Zaozao: “…” Wow, thanks for the lack of comfort.

They spent more time exploring the two places than expected. When they finally descended from the upper floor to the lower, it was almost time for dinner.

In a timely fashion, everyone arrived at the grand dining hall and seated themselves at the table, preparing to eat. As they dug into their meal, Lin Qiushi found that someone was missing; only seven people were sitting at the table.

“What happened to the other person?” Lin Qiushi asked the crowd.

“He said he wasn’t feeling too well,” replied someone. “So, he’s resting in his room.”

Lin Qiushi wondered, “Does he not want to come down to eat dinner?”

The other person paused, “I don’t know…I’ll check on him later.”

Lin Qiushi hummed, no longer dwelling on the matter.

The castle was massive, covering a considerable extent of land, and everyone was always dispersed throughout the castle grounds. They could only use the time during their meals to determine the number of individuals present, and assess the current situation.

The person who answered Lin Qiushi’s questions seemed to be on edge, constantly jittering in his seat. He hastily scrambled out the dining hall after eating half of his meal. Only a few minutes passed, when he frantically returned with a blood-drained face and a trembling figure. Through his quivering lips, he stuttered, “H-h-he’s gone. He’s not in his room.”

Despotic silence fell over the crowd.

“Have you looked around for him?” Lin Qiushi finally spoke. “Perhaps in the hallways or the nearby bathrooms…”

“I’ve checked.” The other shakily responded. “But there was nothing.”

Ruan Nanzhu gracefully wiped his mouth, “Was there anything else in the room? For instance, a painting or such?”

The man faltered, “…I-I didn’t check.”

“Let’s take a look then,” said Ruan Nanzhu.

The man looked at Ruan Nanzhu and nodded gratefully. It seemed that he was too afraid to check by himself.

Upon leaving the dining hall, the group made their way to the missing man’s bedroom. As soon as Lin Qiushi stepped foot into the room, the stagnant stench of water assaulted his nostrils. Without a doubt, the owner of this room had likely encountered a similar incident as Lin Qiushi, but, tragically, the person’s luck was not as good as his.

“There should have been a painting in this room.” Ruan Nanzhu glanced at the wall. “It is gone now.”

“What do you mean? That painting…” Given what happened to Xiao Su, not a single person had hopes for the man’s survival. At long last, someone fretfully uttered, “Yang Jie is…”

Apparently, Yang Jie was the name of the man who had vanished into thin air.

“We cannot say for certain, yet.” Ruan Nanzhu shook his head. “We have to look around some more.”

They scrabbled about the entire castle, exhaustively searching upstairs and downstairs countless times, without neglecting a single corner. But despite raking through several floors, they could not seem to find Yang Jie’s painting. That was until the next day, when Lin Qiushi incidentally glanced outside his window. Through the clear window pane, he caught sight of something rather odd peeking out from the distant bushes.

He immediately rushed towards the bushes, only to discover a painting hidden amongst the dense shrubs. The black frame encasing it was all too familiar, as were the smudges of fresh dirt staining its surface—this was, unmistakably, the very picture frame Lin Qiushi and Ruan Nanzhu had previously buried deep in the soil.

Yang Jie was no longer missing; he had become a part of the painting in Lin Qiushi’s hands. His contorted figure melted into the depicted shrubbery, warping ever so bizarrely and bowing inward, a disturbingly strange sight to behold.

“Found him,” announced Lin Qiushi, as he returned to the castle, painting in hand.

“Wuwuwu…” Yang Jie’s companion began to whimper fearfully upon seeing the picture. As if he had been struck by lightning, the large man quaked violently in his shoes. Snot and tears streamed endlessly down his pale cheeks, as he blubbered, “We’re all going to die here, wuwuwu, we’re all going to die here…”

His mind had long broken down, the last shred of reason shattering into pieces. One after another, the others began collapsing to the ground in a sobbing mess. Ruan Nanzhu’s face grew blacker as the clamorous noises grew louder; soon, the entire room was completely filled with torturous screams of despair and wails of hysteria.

Lacking the ability to comfort these weeping individuals, Lin Qiushi simply let them cry. Eventually, Tan Zaozao’s patience ran out. Unable to bear the ruckus any longer, she blew up, cursing madly and irately spitting, “Look at all of you fucking cowards crying like this! You think crying is going to solve anything, huh?! To think a puny girl like me is braver than every single goddamned grown man in this room!”

“Then speak! What should we do, huh?!” The man roared at her. “Somebody turned into a painting again!”

“How should I know what the fuck to do!” Tan Zaozao impolitely snapped back. “Fucking dipshits! I’m not your fucking mother! Why the fuck should I look after babies like you!”

Ruan Nanzhu’s mood was terribly foul at this point. In front of the panicked crowd, he sharply turned around and left the room without a word. Lin Qiushi and Tan Zaozao hurriedly followed after him.

Only after they reached their room, did Ruan Nanzhu finally speak, “I suspect there is a traitor amongst us.”

“Huh? What do you mean?” Lin Qiushi blurted confusedly.

Ruan Nanzhu stressed, “It’s just as I said. Someone amongst us is deliberately killing people.”

Lin Qiushi was in utter disbelief, “Deliberately killing people?”

Ruan Nanzhu coolly stated, “The frame that was aimed towards your room may have been purposely set up by someone.”

Lin Qiushi: “…”

Tan Zaozao shuddered at Ruan Nanzhu’s words. “But how do you know…how’d you even come to this realization in the first place?”

Ruan Nanzhu said, “It’s merely a speculation as of now, of course.” He took a seat at the edge of the bed, and calmly continued, “I found some time to investigate the area we buried the picture frame, and there was an extra pair of footprints. The shoes were around size 35 in women’s², which eliminates Tan Zaozao and the mistress of the castle.” He gently closed his eyes, as if recalling something. “Someone dug out the frame…There are a total of five girls on the team. Excluding Tan Zaozao and Xiao Su, that leaves us with three remaining individuals, two of whom meet the criteria.”

Lin Qiushi pondered, “You remember that rookie who wanted to team up with you before?”

Ruan Nanzhu: “Yes.”

Lin Qiushi: “Could it have been her…”

“Possibly.” Ruan Nanzhu remarked. “She was crying today, as well.”

“Always crying and crying.” Tan Zaozao exasperatedly huffed. “She’s been doing nothing but cry all day ever since she came here.”

Ruan Nanzhu hummed thoughtfully, “For now, let’s just observe the situation. After all, this merely my own speculation.”

“Okay.” Lin Qiushi nodded. “I’ll sleep with you guys tonight.”

Ruan Nanzhu replied, “Sounds good.”

That night, Lin Qiushi and Ruan Nanzhu, once again, snuggled together in the large, comfy bed, while Tan Zaozao lay on the hard, uncomfortable floor beside them. After she had become quite accustomed to her poor treatment and accepting of her lowly position, it seemed that the chip on her shoulder also disappeared.

The floor is great, ah! Tan Zaozao thought to herself, as she gazed at the ceiling from the cold floor. I have this entire space to myself. I can roll around however I please, and I don’t even have to worry about other people taking up my space! The floor is truly the best—as if!! Goddammit, Ruan Nanzhu, you stingy bastard!! I’ll remember this!! Hmph!!!

Lin Qiushi’s mind was constantly wandering, his heart, burdened by unrest and unease. He originally believed he wouldn’t be able to fall asleep at all, but, as it turned out, he managed to doze off rather quickly with this special drug by his side.

Lin Qiushi slept peacefully, not waking until the following morning. Upon opening his eyes, he realized Ruan Nanzhu was no longer by his side.

What about the other? Lin Qiushi swiftly sat up in bed, and shot a glance at the floor, only to see Tan Zaozao balled up in her blanket, snoring obnoxiously.

“Zaozao.” Lin Qiushi gingerly woke her up. “Have you seen Ruan Nanzhu?”

Tan Zaozao sluggishly pried her eyes open, and blearily groaned, “Is he gone?”

“Yeah.” Lin Qiushi replied. “I haven’t seen him. He’s not here with us.”

“I don’t know…” Tan Zaozao was still somewhat groggy. “I haven’t seen him either.”

It was as if he had vanished into thin air; he didn’t even appear in time for breakfast. If anyone else had disappeared so suddenly like this, Lin Qiushi would’ve assumed they were long dead. But Ruan Nanzhu wasn’t just anyone, so Lin Qiushi simply wondered if the man had left to do something.

However, Ruan Nanzhu still didn’t show up even after breakfast had ended, and Lin Qiushi was beginning to feel anxious, as well.

“Where could he have possibly disappeared off to.” Tan Zaozao fidgeted on her feet. “Could something have happened…”

In spite of his own worry, Lin Qiushi still reassured her, “Don’t worry. Let’s just look around a bit more. If anything, Ruan Nanzhu is strong and can take of himself; he definitely wouldn’t have met with an accident. Besides, he went to bed with us last night, and nothing happened then.”

Tan Zaozao no longer spoke; her brows furrowed into a deep frown.

They searched every level of the castle, from the first floor to the eighth floor, but to no avail; not a single trace of Ruan Nanzhu could be found.

By now, Tan Zaozao was incredibly distraught and alarmed, imagining the worst, “Are you sure nothing bad happened to him? Did you hear anything last night?”

“No.” Lin Qiushi’s sense of hearing was astoundingly acute. Had something happened the night before, he certainly would’ve heard it. But last night, he didn’t hear any suspicious noises; he slept deeply until dawn, without waking up once.

“What should we do?” Tan Zaozao was overwrought, unable to think clearly.

“Let’s…take a look at the paintings on these floors.” Lin Qiushi slightly choked up, his voice, afflicted by distress. “We should make sure…just in case.”

Tan Zaozao’s breath hitched, and she grew gravely silent. She knew exactly what Lin Qiushi was implying. Lin Qiushi feared that Ruan Nanzhu had been turned into a painting. If that truly was the case… Tan Zaozao stopping thinking altogether. She vacantly followed behind Lin Qiushi and scrutinized the paintings in this building.

Once again, they searched through all the floors of this castle, yet, as before, they couldn’t spot a shadow of Ruan Nanzhu’s figure. Although they were somewhat relieved, a haunting feeling of dread kept eating at their insides, burrowing itself deeper into their heavy hearts.

Because they couldn’t find Ruan Nanzhu anywhere, they were both in a glum mood and had no appetite for lunch.

Tan Zaozao dourly expressed that she wished to go back to the room to rest for a while, before continuing to search in the afternoon. Seeing that her mental state was far from good, Lin Qiushi nodded in understanding.

Yet, just when the two of them entered the bedroom, they spotted Ruan Nanzhu nestled peacefully in his bed, trying to catch up on the sleep he had missed out on. His appearance was so carefree and relaxed, as if there was nothing was out of the ordinary.

“Ruan Nanzhu!!” Tan Zaozao sobbed, her strained voice raising into a faint scream. “Where were you?! Do you know how much trouble we went through to find you?!”

Ruan Nanzhu lazily opened his eyes and yawned, “I had something to do.”

“Something to do?! Why didn’t you at least let us know—” Tan Zaozao angrily cried, “Have you any idea how worried we were for you? We looked all over for you this morning!”

Ruan Nanzuh: “I didn’t expect to be gone for such a long time.”

Tan Zaozao: “Oh, really now? So, where the hell have you been then?”

Ruan Nanzhu: “Inside a painting.”

As soon as he uttered those words, Tan Zaozao was rendered speechless. A long moment of silence passed, before she opened her mouth and tentatively inquired, “Inside a painting? Is it the painting I’m thinking of?”

Ruan Nanzhu nodded.

Lin Qiushi was stunned, “How were you even able to go in…isn’t the frame gone…”

“No.” Ruan Nanzhu corrected. “There is one thing we’ve miscalculated. Although Xiao Su is gone, the frame is still there. Likewise, Yang Jie might’ve disappeared, but the frame hasn’t. To put it another way, if a painting is inlaid into an old frame, a new frame will always appear.”

Lin Qiushi: “…”

Ruan Nanzhu continued, “The person who has been killing us off has been using a new frame each time.” His lips curled up, “Fortunately, this matter has been solved now.”

Lin Qiushi: “What are you talking about…”

Ruan Nanzhu: “It’s just as I said. If not all, I managed to obtain a new hint.”

Unable to process the sudden flood of information, Lin Qiushi and Tan Zaozao simply blanked out. Both of them had looks of utter confusion on their faces; it was obvious that their brains had crashed.

Seeing their darling dazed looks, Ruan Nanzhu’s expression softened considerably. He tenderly comforted, “Don’t worry. I know it is a lot to process; take all the time you need to think about it.”

Lin Qiushi: “…” Is this his way of showing tolerance for our IQ?

No, this is the undoubtedly the compassion and pity of an endeared father. Tan Zaozao delicately pressed her hand to heart, having sadly understood the meaning behind the kind look in Ruan Nanzhu’s eyes.

Judging from their foolish expressions, Ruan Nanzhu figured the two were still confused. With a sigh, he heaved himself up into a sitting position, and briefly narrated the situation last night.

Right after Lin Qiushi fell asleep that night, Ruan Nanzhu was started awake. Upon waking up, he felt that something was amiss in the room. He quietly climbed out of bed and made his way towards the bedside, when he unexpectedly discovered another frame near his window.

The frame was hidden quite meticulously under the darkness of the night. If it weren’t for Ruan Nanzhu’s keen eyesight, he surely would’ve overlooked it.

His intuition warned him that something was terribly off about the frame, so without delay, Ruan Nanzhu rushed out of the room, wanting to retrieve it from outside. But just when he intended to descend the stairs, he came across a woman dressed in black, quietly standing at the head of the stairs and hollowly staring at him.

Anyone else in that situation would’ve been frightened out of their wits, but Ruan Nanzhu was used to such cheap tricks. Not only was he composed, but he boldly stared back up at the woman for several minutes, until the woman finally turned around and left on her own accord.

“Holy fuck!” A string of vulgarities spilled from Tan Zaozao’s mouth when she heard this. She gasped, “Were you not afraid at all? To think you actually just stared back at her like that.”

Ruan Nanzhu: “What is there to be afraid of? As you can tell, in the end, the one who retreated first was her, no?”

Tan Zaozao: “…” I have no words.

Ruan Nanzhu continued, “She appeared several times after that. I had originally wanted to leave to fetch the picture frame, but I kept getting the feeling that something was awry.” He mused, “I believe she must’ve been trying to lure me elsewhere.”

Lin Qiushi quietly listened to him.

“I thought on it for a while, and realized that she always appeared at the head of the stairs. Yet, not once had she even made a move to attack me. Perhaps, she simply did not want me to go up the stairs?” Ruan Nanzhu surmised. “The only place she never appeared was the doorway, however, so I suppose she wanted me to leave for outside.”

“If you had left, you would’ve entered the world of the painting.” Tan Zaozao said. “Isn’t that right?”

“Precisely so,” replied Ruan Nanzhu, “Thanks to the information Lin Qiushi provided us, I soon realized the scenery outside was, in fact, a mirror image.”

It was pitch-black outside, and the shrubbery had been obscured by shadows. It would’ve been nearly impossible for ordinary folks to find any abnormalities. However, because Lin Qiushi had already set a precedent for him, Ruan Nanzhu carefully observed the surrounding area, easily verifying that the outside view had, indeed, been inverted.

“Ultimately, I did not leave. I simply waited in the room for a while.” Ruan Nanzhu spread his palms wide and shrugged, “Who could’ve known I would be waiting for that long.”

“You scared me half to death!” Now that she received a justified explanation from Ruan Nanzhu, she was feeling much better. She then sighed in relief, “You have no idea what was running through our minds at the time. Qiushi and I thought you had turned into a painting.”

Lin Qiushi bobbed his head in agreement.

“Well, here I am now, completely fine.” Ruan Nanzhu’s eyes curved into crescents, as he smiled warmly.

Although Ruan Nanzhu half-heartedly described his experience, Lin Qiushi was well-aware of the treacherous dangers the other had narrowly evaded. Ruan Nanzhu was, truly, just a few breaths away from leaving this world.

“That aside, what did you mean when you said you got a new note.” Lin Qiushi was rather interested in this matter.

“Oh.” Ruan Nanzhu fished out a slip of paper from his pocket and handed it to the other.

Upon receiving the note, Lin Qiushi saw a short, relativistic poem written on it:

You stand on a bridge admiring the sight;

You’re beheld by a viewer from a height.

The bright moon bedecks your window agleam,

As you adorn someone else’s dream.³

Lin Qiushi was surprised to say the least, “This is…another clue for this door?”

“Yes.” Ruan Nanzhu said. “I took this clue from someone.”

“Who?” wondered Tan Zaozao.

Ruan Nanzhu smirked, “That newcomer who tried to team up with me on the first day.”

Author’s Comment:

Lin Qiushi, after having not seen Zhu Meng for over five days: I miss her…

Ruan Nanzhu: Lin? Qiu?? Shi???

Lin Qiushi mumbles: I’m just kidding…

Translator’s Comment:

For those who might be confused with what Ruan Nanzhu said, he meant that there are several black frames, not just one. They originally thought that only one frame (the one they buried) was used to trap all victims, but that was not the case. Regardless, if you ever do get confused with any part of the plot, just wait patiently; it’ll probably be clarified later on.

¹One of the world’s most famous frescos, created by the Renaissance polymath, Leonardo da Vinci (1452—1519). LINK

²Around size 5 in the US.

³This is a well-known modern poem written by the Chinese poet, Bian Zhilin (1910—2000), called 断章 (Duanzhang), which translates to Fragment (or A Broken Chapter). Surprisingly, there doesn’t seem to be an official English translation of this poem… Explanation of poem and poet (Chinese): LINK|| A translation and interpretation of the poem (English): LINK