Chapter 14

Chapter 14: 014

Her brother was gone. The pollution value on the detection meter was gradually falling, giving Lu Yan a brief, ragged space to breathe.

The length of the chain allowed him just enough slack to move from the bed to the toilet.

The eyeballs in the corner of the room tracked his movements. The sensation of being watched every second was deeply unsettling.

Besides the bed, the bedroom held a TV, a desk, a bookcase, a vanity. The vanity was piled high with cosmetics and skincare. Lu Yan picked up a jar at random. La Mer.

He personally stuck to Longrich and Vaseline, but he’d vaguely heard of La Mer’s price tag. His sister had lived well.

There was no clock in the room. Lu Yan checked his phone. 9:00 AM.

A notification in the center of the screen alerted him to a new text message.

He opened it. The sender was Lin Sinan.

"Where are you? How did you disappear?"

Sunlight streamed brightly outside the window, but the room’s temperature was chillingly low.

Lu Yan let out a slow, controlled breath. Seeing this message, he felt a strange sense of relief.

If the dead "Lin Sinan" could still send texts, then the Lin Sinan he’d seen wasn’t the real one.

He was tempted to call back, but held off. In a horror story, anyone stupid enough to do that—unless they were the protagonist—usually didn’t last ten minutes.

What did surprise him was a new, unfamiliar contact in his message inbox.

The note read: Lu Jiahé.

The timestamp on the messages stopped at December 2111.

Lu Yan opened the thread. It was almost entirely messages from the other person. He scrolled up, deciding to start from the beginning.

The first message was from 2109.

[You told me you had tutoring after class, that I didn’t need to pick you up. So what’s this?]

[Image]

It looked like a sneaky photo. Just two people’s backs. A boy and a girl. The distance between them was normal, nothing overly intimate.

[Are you having me followed AGAIN?]

[I’m just worried about you.]

**[You’re insane. F*ck off.]**

[It’s the anniversary of mom and dad’s death. Do you want to go visit the grave with me?]

[You still have the face to see them?]

[If it weren’t for you, they wouldn’t be dead.]

[How are things at school?]

[The teacher said you got into a fight with a girl in your class. What happened?]

[I’m really not at ease with this. I should move back to M City. It’s not a first-tier city, but it would be easier to look after you.]

[Don’t need it.]

These siblings had a seriously strange dynamic.

The messages were mostly mundane daily stuff. But there was a gap of almost a year with no communication at all.

Lu Yan frowned slightly, scrolling all the way to the end.

[Lu Yan.]

[Where are you? Answer me.]

[Pick up the phone.]

[Don’t abandon your brother. Please.]

His phone still had no internet. He checked WeChat—it was still his own contact list, not Lu Yan’s. He thought for a moment, then turned on the bedroom TV and switched to a news channel.

Just as he expected, the time displayed in the lower left corner of the screen read:

July 21, 2111.

On screen, an anchor was reading the local news.

"In recent days, our city has seen a severe criminal case…"

Lu Yan walked to the desk. On top lay a fashion magazine. Near the lamp was a row of nail polish.

Beneath the magazine was a report card. Lu Yan’s name was second from the bottom.

So, his sister’s grades were poor. No wonder Lu Jiahé was so concerned.

Combined with her tone in the messages, the image of a nasty, delinquent girl solidified in Lu Yan’s mind.

The desk had three drawers underneath, all locked.

He couldn’t find a key. So, he clasped his hands together briefly, murmuring to the air, "My apologies."

Then he drove his fist through each drawer lid in turn.

Crunch. Splinter. Crack.

The wood gave way, shattered.

Expression unchanged, Lu Yan reached into the wreckage and pulled out what he wanted.

The first drawer held a group photo. Just three people—a couple and a child. The boy looked particularly stiff and awkward, but Lu Yan could see traces of Lu Jiahé in his face. The background was "Qiushan Orphanage."

Beneath it was an adoption registration form. Lu Jiahé’s parents had died in an earthquake. He, the sole survivor, was adopted by Lu Yan’s childless parents.

The second drawer held a death certificate.

During Lu Jiahé’s freshman year of university, he’d missed the train ticket back for Spring Festival. Lu Yan’s parents insisted on driving to pick him up. They died in a car crash.

The third drawer held a diary.

Lu Yan opened to the first page. No date. The handwriting was childish. As he flipped further, the script and the tone gradually matured.

"I’m the real one! I’m their real child!"

"I’m not Lu Jiahé’s sister."

"I said it in front of everyone today—Lu Jiahé’s parents are dead, my family took him in. He looked so hurt. I feel a little bad… god, so annoying!"

"This Spring Festival, I told Lu Jiahé not to come back. I want to spend it with mom and dad. Not with him."

*"F**K. My parents went to pick up that jinx."*

……

……

He turned to the final page.

Lu Yan now understood the backdrop of this dream.

Lu Yan was born into a family that favored sons over daughters. Her parents, unable to have a child of their own for various reasons, adopted Lu Jiahé. Unlike most adoptions, the Lu couple adopted a boy who was already quite old.

A healthy, good-looking boy like that should have had no shortage of families wanting him. But strangely, every family that adopted Lu Jiahé eventually met with misfortune—bankruptcy, illness… He’d been returned to the orphanage three times.

The year of the adoption, Lu Yan was six. Lu Jiahé was seventeen.

She felt no affection for this sudden older brother. Like a beast whose territory had been invaded, she was full of aggression.

But Lu Jiahé cherished everything he now had. He studied hard, was filial to his new parents, and tried to learn how to be a brother.

He endured every one of his sister’s tantrums and outbursts.

Yet misfortune still descended on this family.

Lu Yan’s parents died in the car crash on their way to pick up Lu Jiahé.

The only silver lining was that Lu Jiahé was long since an adult, capable of taking on the responsibility of raising his sister—though it was far too heavy a burden, far too soon.

After losing their parents, Lu Jiahé’s protectiveness toward his only sister grew to a near-pathological intensity. Controlling her friends, her relationships, every aspect of Lu Yan’s life, trying to keep her in a safe, sterile, vacuum-sealed world.

He would have torn out his own heart to show her the veins pulsing within, but his sister never once opened her own heart to him.

As she hit her rebellious teens, her behavior grew more and more erratic. But Lu Jiahé, after all, wasn’t her biological brother. His attempts at discipline always felt powerless.

"Is this Lu Yan’s dream, or Lu Jiahé’s?" Lu Yan closed the diary, lost in thought.

He leaned toward it being the sister’s dream. Here, the surveillance cameras were hateful, staring eyes. Her brother’s protection was a chain shackled to her body.

The only thing he didn’t quite understand was—if he was the sister, then where was the real sister?

On the TV, the news segment was reaching its end.

"This was a case of aggravated home invasion and robbery… The suspect, Zhang, learned from his mother—who worked as a nanny for the Li family—that Mr. Li traveled frequently for work, often leaving the victim home alone. He conceived the idea of breaking in to steal. The victim usually boarded at school, but had skipped class that day and was resting at home."

"Upon discovery, the nanny assisted Zhang in disposing of the body and erasing the security footage. They claimed the victim had run away from home."

After this report, the TV emitted a burst of static noise, then dissolved into cascading snow.

They say dreams are manifestations of the subconscious. Lu Yan didn’t think this was just a random, meaningless news clip.

He stared at the signal-dead screen, his expression turning odd. "…She died?"

*

Lu Yan spent a long time examining the chain on his ankle, confirming there was no way to open it.

On his wrist, his lesion rate had climbed to 33.7.

Besides his arms, fish scales had begun to sprout on his back. Probably due to dehydration, they were dry and lifted at the edges, cutting into his skin with every movement. The pain was constant.

The increase in lesion rate wasn’t entirely a bad thing. At the very least, Lu Yan could clearly feel his physical capabilities had strengthened a bit more.

His mindset was decent, all things considered. He even plucked one of the scales off to examine it. Judging by the color and shape, if he mutated completely, he’d probably turn into a koi fish.

A koi spirit. No wonder his luck had always been decent.

In the afternoon, a sound came from the front door.

"Sister." Lu Jiahé’s voice floated up from downstairs.

The data on Lu Yan’s meter began to spike. Lu Jiahé opened the bedroom door.

There was more blood on him now. His black suit was soaked through, leaving a wet, crimson footprint with each step.

Lu Jiahé’s body showed further aberration. Besides the searing wounds, several sharp bone spurs had erupted from the bloody backs of his hands, glinting like knife blades.

"There are many strange people in the city now. I feel they all want to harm you. But don’t worry." His expression was the picture of gentle concern as he spoke the most terrifying words, as casually as discussing the fine weather. "Big brother will kill them all."

Lu Yan met his gaze. "I want to go out by myself."

Lu Jiahé shook his head, his expression unyielding. “No. You’ll just run away again. I can’t let you leave. It’s dangerous out there.”

Brother, you have absolutely no self-awareness.

The combined danger of everything outside doesn’t hold a candle to you.

Just being this close to Lu Jiahé for a few moments had driven Lu Yan’s lesion rate to 49.2.

He didn’t know what would happen if it exceeded 100 in the dream, but a cold, instinctive dread told him the outcome wouldn’t be good.

“Once I’ve dealt with all the dangers,” Lu Jiahé continued, his voice soft, “you can go back to school…”

“Lu Jiahé.” Lu Yan cut him off. “I’m not your sister.”

It was impulsive. He’d thought the sister was the dream’s master, but she was dead.

That left only Lu Jiahé. And he had no other way to wake him.

If he waited any longer, let the lesion rate climb past 100, he’d be dead anyway.

The words acted like a thrown switch.

Outside the window, the bright afternoon light vanished, swallowed by a sudden, oppressive gloom.

Lu Jiahé lifted his head. His eyes narrowed.

A flicker of crimson bled into the darkness of his irises.

He rose to his feet, closing the distance between them with deliberate steps. His hand shot out, clamping around Lu Yan’s throat.

Lu Yan gasped, the air crushed from his lungs. The searing stench of sulfur flooded his nostrils, burning his eyes.

His heart hammered against his ribs—not from fear, but a primal, animal instinct screaming that a predator had him in its grasp.

Lu Jiahé’s other hand settled on the back of Lu Yan’s neck, fingers rubbing, then digging. A scale tore free with a wet rip. Blood welled, soaking the collar of his shirt.

The pain was instant and brutal. Like having a tooth ripped out without anesthetic.

“Don’t say things you don’t mean,” Lu Jiahé murmured, his gaze dropping. He used his blood-smeared hand to wipe a tear from Lu Yan’s cheek. His voice was a tender, fractured thing. “Little sister.”