Famine 190: Falling

He Ming’s life wasn’t really all that bad.

She had left her hometown for the big city—something many in her village would never do in their whole lives—gained a decent education, and landed a respectable job. Her parents were conservative, rarely said anything nice, often needed her support, and any attempt at heartfelt conversation wound up in nagging, but they weren’t truly malicious.

He Ming hadn’t found an ideal job, but she was getting by. She rented a small place of her own; when tired, she’d go for a cup of coffee, occasionally bring home a little cake. She felt fleeting happiness at small things—like being able to dine in at the donkey meat sandwich shop below, or buying a cheap little cake from the café…

He Ming’s life, in truth, was exceedingly fragile.

—The moment she lost her job, everything she had would come to an end.

The company would hire a new accountant, her rented room wasn’t really hers, her parents would keep getting sick no matter how much she helped, and the café’s stream of customers didn’t hinge on her. No one would miss her.

After losing her job, nearly half a year went by and she still couldn’t find work. She lay awake through the nights, insomnia bleeding into the mornings, until at last she collapsed into sleep late each afternoon, waking up to find it was already dark.

That small room was always destined to force her out—narrow, pitch-dark, silent, not another soul, only the cicadas of midsummer singing outside the window.

He Ming stared at her phone’s blank message screen for a long time, then got out of bed to tie a knot.

…

In such sweltering heat, a corpse left three days will reek unbearably.

—If you suddenly vanished for three days, would anyone notice?

He Ming gave her answer.
No one.

He Ming was never much for socializing. She had made few friends in the city, mostly acquaintances from work, fellow regulars, café owners—people she met in passing.
Since adulthood, she’d lived apart from her hometown. Old friends, once close, had drifted far away.

Her body rotted slowly in her rented room.

In the end, the one to find her was neither her parents nor a friend.
It was her roommate.

Her parents, sick themselves, rushed to collect her body, their wailing both desolate and bewildered. They couldn’t fathom how, after raising their daughter for over twenty years—for the mere crime of six months’ unemployment—she could have died. The roommates all moved out, the landlord used her leftover rent for cleanup and repairs, then repainted.

A month later, her bedroom was rented out again.

The rent was a third lower. The new tenant, another young migrant worker fresh out of college, sat cross-legged at the desk, eating takeout braised chicken while chatting on the phone:

“So someone died? Who cares? It’s a few thousand a year cheaper. Ghosts? What ghosts could scare off a broke bastard like me?…”

“Enough, gotta be up early for my first day at work. If I don’t make something of myself, I’ll get an earful at New Year’s.”

Beep.
The call ended.

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep…

Countless new tenants elsewhere in the building hung up their phones at the same time. The lights in the dense apartment building flickered on, window after tiny window aglow, arrayed endlessly up and down, stretching into infinity. Packed tightly, orderly—just as He Ming’s crowded work cubicle had been.

Drifters far from home, squeezed together in some corner of the big city.

Thus was the “Stacked Apartment of Disconnected Death.”

Si Zhiyan looked up, at a loss for words.

A thought he couldn’t suppress surfaced in his mind—
Why not go back home?

“She can’t go back,” Bian Xu said.

His voice was steady, the flashlight illuminating He Ming’s rotted face. Looking into the darkness at the ruined corpse, he said,

“She’s seen birds in the sky.”

—But the saddest thing was, she just couldn’t fly well enough; the sky had no place for her.

Every tenant in these crowded apartments had calculated the same sum: an old, small, fringe unit cost three million in full. If they saved five thousand a month, it would take six hundred months—fifty years—without spending a cent, never getting sick, never losing their job, without a single interruption.

Soaring prices, ruthless bosses, unemployment, solitude, life atomized, a future you can’t even see…

What killed her?

No one can answer.

Drip.

The ground beneath their feet began to turn to sludge, slowly sinking.

No overwhelming attack, no earth-shattering roar; He Ming’s haunting threat was but a pool of black mud, drawing them down, down, sinking through the floor.

Even the light from Si Zhiyan’s flashlight was smothered.

All that remained was a silent, endless dark.

Bian Xu’s vines wrapped around Si Zhiyan, pausing for two seconds before he turned. “…Should we exorcise her?”

Si Zhiyan shook his head. “No.”

“Wait a little longer.”

…

He Ming seemed determined to leave nothing behind in the darkness—no escape, no hope.

Si Zhiyan wasn’t anxious. He just descended, gesturing for Bian Xu to sit beside him.

He said nothing.

He turned.

In the darkness, the blond youth hugged his knees, curled up, calmly staring into the void. For once, his usually cheerful face was blank.

His eyes held no pity, but neither were they cold—there was… something else.

Si Zhiyan gazed into Bian Xu’s eyes.

Then he reached out, taking his icy fingertips in hand.

Bian Xu flinched in shock, his fingers trembling violently, instinctively pulling away—

“Don’t move,” said Si Zhiyan, softly. “Good boy.”

Bian Xu froze on the spot.

Si Zhiyan’s fingers were slender and cool, brushing lightly along the skin, gliding up his neck, gently cupping his jaw.

“Here.”

Bian Xu shuddered, his gaze dropping at last.

He hadn’t noticed when it started, but black stains, like ink, had crept over his body—arms, shoulders, neck, even reaching his face, the sinister darkness seeping into his cheeks, visible for anyone to see.

And he hadn’t noticed at all.

Startled, Bian Xu tried to get up, but felt Si Zhiyan’s fingers press gently, holding him in place.

“…” Si Zhiyan leaned a little closer, staring at that pool of foulness. “Miss He, is this your true form?”

The black sludge squirmed, silent.

All around was still. Not even the sound of crying remained.

“Is this the only way you can communicate…”

Si Zhiyan sighed. Before Bian Xu could object, Si Zhiyan pressed his fingers to Bian Xu’s soft cheek, stroking it gently.

“All right. As you wish.”

A tendril of black seeped into Si Zhiyan’s fingertip.

Buzz.

For an instant, the world went fuzzy.

Si Zhiyan suddenly struggled for air, his heart sinking as if pulled down. Surrounded by abyss and mire, he could find no enemy, no escape.

It was strange. He could still breathe—but that was all.

The world felt as though a cloth had fallen over it, his emotions dulled through a veil, while somewhere a phone chimed with a new notification—and all he wanted was to sink, deeper and deeper, to the very bottom of the abyss, to leave everything behind.

Si Zhiyan clutched at his chest.

Bian Xu’s pupils shrank; at once he caught Si Zhiyan’s arm. “You first—!”

But Si Zhiyan caught his wrist in turn, relaxing into his arms, breathing hard, resting against Bian Xu.

Bian Xu tensed, then carefully, gingerly, put his arms around Si Zhiyan.

Bit by bit, he held him tighter, as if protecting his most precious treasure.

Si Zhiyan tilted his head to touch him, fully understanding now the strange feeling in Bian Xu’s eyes since entering this place.

—It was understanding.

I accept this. I see. I fully understand your choice.

Bian Xu’s fingertips were ice cold, but his body was warm and strong. That embrace felt like it could hold back all the world’s pain.

Si Zhiyan let himself lean there, resting for a while. Then he looked up and asked,

“…Is this what you feel?”
“Is this what the world looks like to you?”

The black slime trembled on Si Zhiyan’s finger, gently swaying—a nod.
And in that short span, it had already spread up his whole hand.

Only when someone could feel He Ming’s pain would she be willing to communicate.

“Your attack pattern… is to pull everyone under, into an inescapable abyss, letting them drown in despair—right?”

Si Zhiyan paused, looking down and smiling faintly.

“All right,” he said,
“That’s how it is, then.”

“You win. No one can speak without hurting. I’m out of options too. I don’t know the way out. No one does.”

The space quieted, still as death.

Bian Xu held Si Zhiyan tighter, his eyes going red.
He knew this was Si Zhiyan’s choice, so he said nothing.

Bian Xu had always understood the bigger picture. He never stopped others from doing what they needed; he did his best to help any way he could.

He simply…

Cared deeply, painfully deeply.

Si Zhiyan glanced at Bian Xu’s reddened eyes, smiled, and ruffled his hair.

“It’s all right,” he said. “It’s what I need to do.”

“…”

Bian Xu buried his face in Si Zhiyan’s shoulder, silently, stubbornly, shaking his head.

…

Grrr.

No one remembered how much time passed.
It had been a while since they’d eaten; their stomachs began to rumble.

Si Zhiyan straightened with Bian Xu’s help, reached into his coat pocket, and patted it.

Whoosh.

The Frosthorn Rabbit poked out a furry head, wiggled once, and produced a fresh sandwich.

Si Zhiyan turned to Bian Xu. “Time to eat. Let’s have something first.”

“What flavor do you want this time?”

No extra words were needed—Bian Xu instantly understood what Si Zhiyan was doing and smiled.

He ducked his head, wiped his face, and when he looked up again, his handsome face bore not a trace of shadow—just pure warmth, flushed ears, bright eyes. “Teriyaki chicken!”

“OK. I’ll have salmon this time.” Si Zhiyan tossed him the sandwich.

“A sandwich always needs a drink. I’ll have coffee—two sugars, a dash of milk. You?”

“Green grape milk! Seventy percent sweet. Something refreshing.”

“All right. As for mains, will one sandwich be enough?”

“Not enough! If bread’s involved, it really should go with a German crispy pork knuckle.”

“Good. Looks like Nidhogg isn’t cooking today—off putting together something else… Feels like something is missing, I want some Japanese teriyaki chicken wings… and dessert, of course, we need some…”

Si Zhiyan just kept digging.
He always carried the farm-linked Grail with him—never letting it out of reach.

Back on the farm, the players on black-hole-watch perked up instantly: “The farm owner’s sent in a new order!”

The farm now had multiple kitchens, all large and well-equipped. Si Zhiyan had been away, tackling the toughest dungeon, for some time. All he’d requested were basics and supplies. Everyone on the farm missed him, even worried about him a bit.

So suddenly receiving a request lit up their spirits.

If the owner wanted something, they just had to make it, right?

The staff immediately split up and raced to the kitchens.

Very soon, one after another, dishes began to pile up in front of Si Zhiyan.

Main courses: German crispy pork knuckle and sauerkraut, shrimp pan-fried buns, Turkish kebab wraps, fish-fragrant shredded pork rice, spicy stir-fried pork, French beef stew in red wine, Vietnamese pho with beef, prosciutto pizza…

Sides: Japanese grilled teriyaki chicken wings, crispy fried pork cutlet in tom yum seafood soup, honey-char siu, sweet-and-sour pork, crab with golden roe, chilled marinated seafood, Shanghai-style braised spare ribs…

And then the desserts—a mountain of them: chocolate chip custard tarts, Black Forest chiffon boxes, sea salt cheesecake, almond tofu, walnut pie, chocolate lava cake, glutinous rice rolls, sweet red bean dumplings, mango pancakes stuffed with huge chunks of fruit…

At the center, an enormous lemon cheesecake.

The top was glazed with lemon jelly, garnished with candied lemon, built from dense, top-quality cheese with a biscuit crumb crust and filling the air with a fusion of cheese and lemon—fresh and milky and rich.

“Wonderful.”

Si Zhiyan clapped his hands, smiling.

His chest still felt heavy, like there was something he could hardly breathe past. But human beings, at their core, can’t lie. Faced with a feast like this, it was impossible not to feel one’s appetite stir.

“Since it’s come to this, let’s eat.”