“Why… are you… using your right hand?”
The disembodied head whispered eerily close to his ear, its voice transforming from a breathless murmur to an almost hysterical shriek.
At first, Qi Min didn’t comprehend what was being said, but when understanding finally dawned, cold sweat erupted across his skin.
With the homeroom teacher’s head bellowing, every hand in the examination hall froze mid-stroke. The sudden silence was grotesquely unnatural, the previous scratching of pens replaced by an oppressive stillness.
Qi Min trembled, gripping the pen with his left hand, attempting to rewrite. Sweat slicked his palm, causing the pen to slip and fall beneath the desk. Bending down to retrieve it, he seized the opportunity to peek through the gap between his legs and the chair.
Behind him, every face seemed to melt like heated wax.
Run!
The thought flashed through his mind as he leaped up, overturning his desk and chair. The toppled furniture created a momentary breach, blocking the surrounding figures. Qi Min seized his chance, limping desperately toward the classroom exit!
“You’re NOT permitted to LEAVE the examination HALL!!!”
The head screamed, whooshing in pursuit.
From slightly behind, a series of “splat-splat” sounds emerged, reminiscent of something stepping on soft, gelatinous creatures. Compression, explosion, viscous liquid spraying everywhere.
Qi Min clenched his teeth, enduring the searing pain in his left calf, running without looking back. Taking two steps at once, almost flying down the stairs, he continued his frantic escape. He descended three floors without pause, bursting through to the school gate.
But upon seeing the strange fog lingering outside, Qi Min abruptly halted.
Turning back, his scalp crawled with terror.
Every visible corridor in the teaching and administrative buildings was packed with monstrous figures resembling melted wax people. They surged forward like a tide, pushing and crowding, racing towards him.
Yet they remained slightly behind the students of Class 7, Senior Year.
Some impatient beings jumped directly from the upper floors, splattering onto the ground before rapidly reassembling into grotesque, crawling forms.
Inspired by this example, other wax figures followed suit, dropping like dumplings from the building.
Qi Min: What the hell!
With a sound like falling rain, more wax figures accumulated in the square. They merged with the Class 7 students, forming a massive spider-like creature standing eight to nine meters tall, supported by countless cobbled-together human legs.
The spider monster opened its pincered maw, releasing a piercing screech. Corrosive liquid sprayed from its mouth, eating circular holes into the surrounding concrete and generating wisps of white smoke.
Qi Min’s keen vision revealed sleeping human faces embedded in the creature’s abdomen—he even recognized Hao Peng’s face among them.
Simultaneously, over a dozen screeching teacher-head projectiles reached the school gate, their grotesque expressions rivaling the spider’s monstrosity.
Seeing the ominous fog outside, Qi Min hesitated no longer and plunged inside, limping.
The heads immediately followed, charging forward.
The spider monster, however, hesitated. Observing its immense form, it wavered at the entrance, half-writhing and half-crawling, before cautiously extending its leg-composed limbs into the mist.
The remaining wax figures stopped at the fog’s edge, silently observing the seemingly harmless vapor before collectively moving away.
Pausing, they looked skyward, as if sensing something.
The fog, previously confined to the school gate, now began infiltrating the campus.
The milky-white mist, like a living entity, instantaneously consumed all the statue-still wax figures.
When it finally dissipated, the entire middle school—along with the wax figures—had vanished without a trace.
Qi Min gasped, running through the dense fog.
After several turns, the whooshing sounds of the examiner-heads suddenly vanished, replaced by a bone-chilling chomping noise. From further behind, the spider monster’s screeches had transformed into sharp, infant-like wailing. Massive collision sounds erupted, causing the ground beneath his feet to tremble uncertainly.
Qi Min’s right eyelid twitched violently.
Without stopping, he darted past a dilapidated structure reduced to a single wall, quickly turning toward it. The moment he arrived, he immediately crouched low, using the protruding half-wall to conceal himself.
In the next instant, a massive shadow—towering like fifteen stories—emerged from the mist.
Bending down, a face adorned with a bovine bone mask parted the fog, peering several meters below. Rotating its head—large as an entire room—the hunched giant straightened, slowly advancing toward the source of the disturbance.
Its raven-like cloak swept away half the stone wall with mere movement. The enormous scythe trailing behind brushed against a corner, casually demolishing the remaining wall.
Indifferent to the small stone barrier, the monstrous figure continued directly toward the location of the spider monster’s previous battle.
The fighting sounds abruptly ceased.
In a death-like silence, Qi Min barely breathed, nestled within the triangular support formed by the wall’s remnants.
Only after considerable time did the giant’s footsteps resume, moving in another direction.
Qi Min held his breath, listening intently. Carefully confirming no biological activity in the vicinity, he slowly emerged from the ruins.
Suppressing a dust-induced cough, Qi Min had barely poked his head out when he locked eyes with another gaze.
His breath caught instantly.
A little girl stood before him, her head wrapped in a veil, dressed in a ballet-like, milky-white gauze skirt. Her apple-red cheeks housed eyes as large and innocent as a young deer’s.
Yet Qi Min felt no relief at her seemingly harmless appearance.
After witnessing the fog’s countless horrors, such a mundane scene only heightened his vigilance.
He hadn’t even heard her approach. Moreover, sitting amidst the dusty ruins, she remained impeccably clean—an impossibility more unnatural than the giant monster itself!
Qi Min went completely still, playing dead, his muscles coiled and ready to flee at an instant’s notice.
Observing the dust-covered, rigid Qi Min, the girl’s long eyelashes fluttered twice.
Unlike his fears, she didn’t suddenly reveal a blood-filled maw or emerge with an even larger monster.
Instead, she pressed a forefinger to her lips, offering a playful “Shh” gesture.
Her wide-eyed, mischievous expression sparked an inexplicable sense of familiarity and proximity.
Qi Min watched her leap gracefully from the stone heap, “tap-tap-tapping” away in the opposite direction of the monster’s path.
After running a few steps, she turned back, seeing Qi Min still stationary. Her small hand windmilled, urgently motioning him to follow.
She seemed incredibly anxious.
Simultaneously, an eerie sound emerged from behind—like a dense swarm of bees taking flight.
Qi Min’s breathing tightened.
Hesitating less than a second, he decided to trust his instincts.
Swiftly climbing from the ruins, he followed the girl, carefully minimizing any noise.
In the extremely low visibility of the fog, her figure moved like a phantom—darting left and right—yet always maintaining a pace Qi Min could follow.
Qi Min also noticed the girl consistently and precisely avoided areas producing any sounds.
Time passed—perhaps days, perhaps months.
Within the fog, the passage of time was imperceptible. Hunger and fatigue had vanished, yet his nerves remained stretched to their absolute limit. Just as Qi Min felt he could barely endure anymore, human voices emerged ahead.
A hospital materialized through the mist.
Dongcheng Hospital of Linjiang City.
Like a desert traveler parched for days finally glimpsing water, Qi Min stumbled desperately toward the hospital.
Approaching within several dozen meters, he halted. Regulating his breathing and heartbeat, he surveyed the surroundings.
The fog parted like the Red Sea, blocked by an invisible wall hundreds of meters from Dongcheng Hospital.
People continuously arrived through the mist.
Some drove, some walked.
Some appeared burdened with family, faces clouded with worry. Others strolled casually, as if on a leisurely walk.
They resembled ordinary citizens simply visiting a hospital.
At least everyone maintained a normal human appearance and demeanor.
Through the hospital’s glass entrance, red-clothed volunteer guides could be seen wandering among the crowd.
A security guard stood outside the glass doors, nonchalantly directing the human flow entering the hospital.
Everything seemed peaceful.
The previous harrowing experiences in the fog now felt like mere illusions.
After a comprehensive scan revealing no anomalies, Qi Min noticed the electronic LED display on the main building’s entrance, showing the date and time.
Only a few hours had passed since the final exam’s conclusion.
Once his emotions settled, Qi Min realized the little girl who had been guiding him had vanished.
His heart skipped a beat. Searching around, he finally spotted her figure.
She stood at the intersection of fog and hospital, about ten meters away.
“Aren’t you… coming?” Qi Min asked, sensing something.
The girl shook her head silently, her gaze urging him into the hospital.
“What’s your name?”
She remained mute.
Lowering his eyelids, Qi Min gave her a final nod before stepping forward alone, entering the hospital.
As his silhouette disappeared into the entrance, a hint of helplessness crossed the girl’s expressionless face.
Her figure gradually faded, becoming transparent, ultimately disappearing.
The instant she vanished, the hospital scene expanded outward.
Streets, shops, residences, and pedestrians emerged—everything appearing utterly ordinary.
The Author has something to say:
Qi Min: Suddenly parkour.
Shang Jingshui: Quietly putting on the spider monster’s costume
