A paper boy dressed in brightly colored clothes slowly climbed into the house through the windowsill, making a rustling sound as paper rubbed against paper.
Ke Xun didn't dare move, his gaze fixed on the darkness not far in front of him.
He listened to the sound of paper rubbing getting closer and closer, accompanied by a chilling gust of wind that swept in from the window.
The sound grew closer, and the bone-chilling cold intensified. Suddenly, he smelled a strong odor of ashes.
Not cigarette ash, not candle ash, but the smell of tar, of decay, of… the muffled stench of ashes.
Ke Xun's trachea constricted, and he almost coughed, but he bit his tongue hard to hold it back. His body trembled slightly, and in the next instant, a pair of brightly colored paper pants appeared in his sight.
Ke Xun heard the rustling of paper above his head, growing closer and louder. The chill and the smell of ashes seemed to press down on him tangibly, making his chest feel tight. Something felt like it was filling his skin, causing a swollen, bursting discomfort throughout his body.
The room was eerily quiet, except for the strange noises from the paper figures.
Ke Xun felt Mu Yiran beside him, motionless like a stone. Suddenly, he felt as if the whole world had abandoned them. At this moment, no one could save them, no one could help them. They were so alone and helpless, watching helplessly, in despair, awaiting their horrific death.
The sounds of the paper figures were now right above Ke Xun's head. Ke Xun didn't know what it wanted, but he knew he was utterly powerless against it.
In a corner of his vision, the paper figure's lips, painted crimson, slowly appeared, followed by a nose outlined in ink. Just as its two almond-shaped eyes were about to meet Ke Xun's gaze, Ke Xun suddenly remembered Mu Yiran's words and quickly held his breath.
The paper figure's entire face came into view, its cheeks painted a vibrant pink, with a single blood-red dot between its thin, arched eyebrows. The two ink-drawn eyes were right before Ke Xun's eyes; the dark pupils were no different from the usual scribbling with a black pen, but now, being stared at by these paper-drawn eyes, Ke Xun felt as if his bones were about to crack open.
The paper figure stared at Ke Xun almost face-to-face, and the room fell into a deathly silence again, as if no living person remained in this dark silence, only three motionless paper figures.
—A paper figure?
So that's it!
Ke Xun suddenly understood Mu Yiran's meaning.
If he didn't move or breathe, wouldn't he be no different from a paper doll? Therefore, the paper doll in front of him couldn't distinguish whether they were living people or of the same kind, and that's why it hadn't done anything unimaginable to them.
However, the breath Ke Xun had just held was almost used up. Even though his lung capacity was larger than average, he couldn't hold it for long. He could only hope that the paper doll would leave quickly, otherwise… As
his breath was about to run out, the paper doll remained motionless in front of him, its two lifeless black eyes staring at his face.
He couldn't take it anymore… Ke Xun was in excruciating pain, his mind reeling from lack of oxygen, the blood vessels in his forehead almost bursting.
Experts say that a person can't suffocate by holding their breath.
Ke Xun said the experts were right.
Even the strongest willpower can't overcome physiological functions.
Just before Ke Xun's will was about to succumb to his physical urges, a heart-wrenching scream suddenly erupted from the direction of the main house to the north. This was followed by two or three more screams from different people, the sounds so shrill they seemed inhuman, sending chills down one's spine.
The paper figure in front of Ke Xun straightened up the instant the screams rang out, its ink-painted face disappearing from Ke Xun's sight. Then came the rustling of paper, and brightly colored trousers shifted, disappearing into the darkness.
Judging from the direction of the sound, the paper figure seemed to have climbed out of the window. All the noise was then drowned out by the increasingly agonizing screams coming from the main house.
Ke Xun was drenched in sweat, panting heavily.
He still couldn't believe that just moments ago, he had truly confronted that bizarre supernatural entity, and had almost been killed by it.
This time, he truly believed it.
Noticing Mu Yiran looking down at him, Ke Xun, panting heavily, raised his hand and gave an OK sign.
Mu Yiran glanced at him as if he were a strange creature.
He had almost died just now, and now he still had the mind to tell others, "I'm okay, don't worry."
Whether he lacked a sense of fear of death or was just too carefree
, Mu Yiran ignored him and stood up.
Ke Xun also got up from the ground and cautiously looked out the window.
The courtyard outside was still pitch black, but the outline of the main house was vaguely visible. Right in front of the main house door, the two paper-mache children stood with their backs to the door, seemingly listening to any sounds coming from inside.
The horrifying screams from the main room had gradually subsided. Ke Xun remembered that there were three people inside, each holding a cloth strip with the character "民" (meaning "people") on it. One was a middle-aged man with a beer belly, looking obese and successful; another was a young man in his twenties, with a blank, resigned expression; and the third was one of the three who had entered the painting room later than him and Wei Dong, constantly in a state of extreme anxiety and fear.
Judging from the ferocity of the screams, these three were most likely dead.
Ke Xun was at a loss for words. Just a few hours ago, these three people were alive and well, and now, in that terrifying house just steps away, they had been robbed of their right to live by some abnormal, inexplicable, and terrifying force.
Ke Xun wasn't unfamiliar with death, but this kind of death, so inexplicably and without cause, controlled by unnatural forces, made him feel extremely uneasy.
He couldn't tell if it was resentment, anger, fear, or bewilderment.
Mu Yiran watched this newcomer to the painting room with a cold eye.
In the previous painting, a newcomer, terrified by the death of another, collapsed, incontinent, and wailed, nearly causing his own death.
Another newcomer chose suicide to escape.
Besides them, there were countless others who were paralyzed with fear, driven mad by terror, or recklessly rushed out to their deaths, believing they could overcome everything.
The emotions displayed by the person before him were no different from those of the other newcomers.
In the world of painting, fragility and cowardice meant certain death.
Mu Yiran was about to look away from his cold gaze when he saw the person suddenly raise a hand to wipe his face, then quickly calm down, licking his naturally nonchalant lips. A hint of unruliness shone through his eyes, revealing a touch of toughness.
Some people aren't afraid of death, but even in death, they want to die as ants on the carcass of elephants.
Mu Yiran withdrew his gaze, only to see Ke Xun retreat to his side and whisper to him, "When the mourning hall is silent for a while, do you think those two paper figures will come back?"
If he had to hold his breath again, he was afraid he wouldn't have the same good luck as before.
Mu Yiran was silent for a moment, seemingly pondering, then lowered his voice: "Judging from what we just saw, my thinking should be correct. As long as we don't move or breathe, the paper figures won't attack us. Also, perhaps they can't see us, so they won't come up to us to test us."
Ke Xun thought this made sense. At first, the paper figure was just walking slowly outside, glancing in through the window, and only started scratching at the window after meeting his gaze. It wasn't until he heard the sound of the sack falling that the paper figure really went berserk, smashing the window and climbing in.
So, if they didn't see the "shape" of a "person" in the room, wouldn't they stay inside?
"Let's move the sack in the corner of the room a bit, and then hide behind it," Mu Yiran's voice was extremely soft in his ear. "Be careful, move quietly, try not to make the slightest noise."
"Okay."
The two of them moved stealthily and quietly towards the corner of the room in the dark. Fortunately, the distance wasn't far. Then, crouching down, they groped around and carefully moved the sack to a new position.
There weren't many burlap sacks, not enough to build a fortress large enough for two people to sit side-by-side. They tried several arrangements, and finally, only by lying side-by-side, side-by-side, could they barely cover themselves from head to toe, including their upper bodies.
While this completely blocked the paper figure's view, it also blocked any gaps through which the two could peek out, making it impossible to monitor the paper figure's movements. Thus, if the paper figure attacked from outside the sacks, the two would have no way to defend or dodge.
But even the slightest gap could become the paper figure's Achilles' heel.
The two ultimately decided to fight to the death. If this method couldn't stop the paper figure, then no other method would work; they were doomed either way, so they had to accept their fate.
They lay down side-by-side in the small fortress made of burlap sacks.
The space was tiny, quite cramped even sideways. Mu Yiran refused to lie face-to-face with Ke Xun, so she turned to face outwards. Ke Xun, not caring much, pressed himself tightly against Mu Yiran's back.
The barrier of sacks divided the world in two; their small world, though cramped, offered a semblance of security.
However, once the outside world fell into dead silence again, the two worlds abruptly merged, and even that last vestige of security vanished.
The two lay motionless on their sides, trying to breathe softly. After a while, all the sounds in the darkness gradually became clear: the surging of the thick night fog, the howling of the wind, and the rustling of paper.
Ke Xun didn't know how he had survived the night.
He even felt that he hadn't fallen asleep in the latter half of the night because he was tired, but because his nerves were so tense that he had lost consciousness.
As I emerged from the granary in the gloomy, gray dawn light, the scene at the main entrance was exactly the same as when I arrived the day before. The paper-mache children were back in their original positions, smiling and facing the courtyard.