Chapter 146: Bloodbath
On New Year’s Eve, the cold seemed more biting than ever. The icy wind howled like the foul, blood-tinged breath of the mythical beast said to emerge only on this night, ruthlessly hunting down any stray warmth in the silent darkness.
The old and rusty faucet in the bathroom was in disrepair. Small water droplets fell with a patter, hitting the puddle on the concrete floor with a ticking sound, like the mournful wail of a wronged and tragically deceased ghost in the dead of night.
The cold wind outside was raging and arrogant, repeatedly hitting the wooden frame with its cracked and peeling paint. The glass embedded in the wooden frame rattled, as if it were a fortress on the verge of being breached by the enemy. The glass was covered with fine cracks, and the cold rushed in, making the temperature in the room terrifyingly low.
Xia Qian Ge sat on the cold and prickly concrete floor. She curled up, trying to maintain the warmth of her beating heart. Her stomach was a little feverish. The cold water she had just drunk seemed to have seeped to the bottom of her stomach, burning her thin stomach lining. She looked down at the cold and pale moonlight shining through the window, casting a slender shadow on the floor.
The phone in her palm still emitted a faint glow. The low battery warning had flashed repeatedly, but she ignored it, scrolling through call logs she had already read countless times. Yet the black-and-white photo on the table stood like an unbreakable spear, shattering her fragile, desperate hope and leaving her with nothing to cling to.
Her mother was dead… suicide, just the night before she was supposed to come home for the New Year.
She didn’t know how long she had struggled in the stairwell that day before she had dragged her heavy suitcase up to the fifth floor. Her heart was pounding in her chest, and a dry, metallic taste of blood spread in her mouth.
But she suppressed the throbbing in her heart with the joy of returning home, forcing herself to put on a sweet smile. But the moment she unlocked the door, all her pretense lost its meaning. Suddenly, she couldn’t feel the violent pounding of her heart, nor could she hear the creaking of the door hinge. Time froze at that moment.
Her clear black and white eyes reflected the bloody and terrifying scene, but she didn’t feel a trace of fear, as ruthless as a demon that had crawled out of hell.
Her mother had committed suicide… this thought simply flashed in her mind. Her mother, who had called her a few days ago and had told her to wear more clothes in the winter to avoid catching a cold, had actually left this desolate and bleak world before her.
But it was her mother who had brought her to this endless hell in the first place. They had suffered the fires of hell together, and they were supposed to huddle together and continue to endure the long, cold winter. But her mother had left before her, like a cowardly deserter on the battlefield. She despised such a shameful act.
She wasn’t too sad at the time, or rather, she wouldn’t be genuinely sad… just as the smile on her face was so stiff and mechanical.
She was worried about disturbing the neighbors, so she silently picked up the apples that were scattered on the floor, put them in a bag, and then carried her suitcase into the house, finally closing the door gently.
She put the apples on the shoe cabinet at the entrance and dragged her suitcase, its black rubber wheels rolling over the cold, dark, and sticky blood, into the living room. She was silent the whole time, like a cruel and cold serial killer in a TV show. Blood and corpses were just a seasoning in her boring life, not enough to stir a single ripple on the dark surface of her eyes.
After she had settled her luggage, she sat down by the pool of blood, hugging her knees. She made a phone call, and while wiping the bloodstains from the edge of her white shoes, she informed them of her mother’s suicide, her tone so calm that it even made the other party suspicious.
She didn’t explain. She hung up the phone and threw the blood-stained tissue into the sticky pool of blood, watching as the white tissue was slowly stained with the cold, wet blood, the red climbing up every tiny plant fiber, slowly turning into a blood-red silk, spreading out softly on the floor.
Her consciousness was incredibly clear at that time, so much so that she remembered every small detail. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t squeeze out a single bit of joy or sadness from her barren nerves, which controlled her emotions. She was as numb as a cold and ruthless doll, yet her stiff and cold joints were terrifyingly flexible.
Crazy… she even clearly realized that her actions at that time were not those of a normal person. She felt that she was crazy, but her actions and logic were still clear and rigorous, without a single omission.
She remembered picking up the knife that was lying in the pool of blood. She took the knife and washed it carefully under the running water for a long time. The cold water washed away the clotted blood on the blade, and the sharp edge gleamed with a piercing light.
She held the blade to her fair wrist and gently slid it across, a tingling sensation. The dark blue artery under the blade was pulsating with life, the warm blood surging and rolling, as if it were about to gush out.
To be buried with her.
How could she be buried with a cowardly deserter!
She smiled, her pale lips parting in a ghastly grin. She took a juicy, red apple from the bag on the shoe cabinet and sat down by the door. She slowly peeled off the red skin, revealing the sweet flesh.
The apple peel fell from the blade and into the pool of blood, stained even redder. She bit into the apple hard, her teeth sinking into the flesh, sucking out the sweet juice. She took one bite after another. Her narrow throat couldn’t swallow, and the apple was stuck in her mouth. She began to cough violently, and a few chewed pieces of apple were spat out.
The curve of her lips was stretched by the apple. She suddenly wanted to laugh, to laugh at her mother, this cowardly deserter.
Did her mother think that she could be free like this? Did she think that heaven would welcome her?
People like them only deserved to go to hell. From one hell to another, what was the difference?
She fell back, looking at the black grease stains on the old ceiling. Then those disgusting stains grew bigger and bigger, until they had swallowed the entire ceiling, looming over her head, calling her to give up the struggle and go to a deeper hell with them.
The stains turned into a monster and suddenly pounced on her.
…
The TV suddenly turned on, and the memory came to an abrupt end.
Xia Qian Ge suddenly remembered that she had missed this year’s Spring Festival Gala. When she turned on the TV, the gala was already nearing its end. The finale song “Unforgettable Tonight” was playing on the screen. She stared blankly, the flickering light reflecting in her dark eyes.
The phone in her palm suddenly vibrated. Her high school homeroom teacher had sent her a message. It was a detailed list of the donations. Her deep and dark gaze roughly scanned the lit-up screen, and she soon saw the familiar name. She pursed her pale lips into a faint but happy curve. She saw it.
Her mother had committed suicide. How pitiful would a lonely girl on New Year’s Eve look… he would probably come.
So what if she had to resort to any means necessary… she was just that kind of despicable person.
Nothing was unusable… nothing was unplayable.
