Paintings of Terror

Chapter 210: The Separation of Yin and Yang

The melancholic darkness quickly dissipated like billowing smoke. Normal skylight was restored all around, but it was still night. A few stars hung overhead, and the sea underneath was swarthy. The salty air filled the depths, making people feel refreshed. The illusion had disappeared.

Ke Xun quickly turned his head to look at Mu Yiran and saw that he had also turned to look at him. Mu Yiran cupped his hand around the back of Ke Xun’s neck, rubbed the area where his hair met his nape, and said in a deep voice, “Beautifully done.”

Ke Xun raised a large smile. “Of course. How else could I match someone as good as you?”

Mu Yiran took a closer look at his face and saw that the distressing, overwhelming fragility and depression that had been hidden there was gone. Feeling relieved, he pulled him into a strong hug before releasing him to look for the others.

The other people were originally on the deck. When the illusion appeared, these people disappeared in the darkness, and now they reappeared in front of their eyes as the illusion faded. They were lying one by one on the ground, their faces full of fear.

“How are you?” Ke Xun asked as he walked over.

Qin Ci wiped the cold sweat from his face, “…Tonight’s illusion is ‘fear’. This is probably the scariest thing I have ever seen in my life.”

Ke Xun stretched out his hand to pull the still paralyzed Wei Dong up, and asked Qin Ci, “Oh? What is in your illusion?”

Before Qin Ci could answer, Ke Xun found that his hand had passed right through Wei Dong.

Ke Xun was stunned. He stretched out his hand again to pull Wei Dong’s arm, but found that his hand had passed through his skin and flesh as if through water.

He froze in place, but Wei Dong didn’t seem to notice anything. He lay slumped on the deck and finally lifted his head reluctantly. He looked at Ke Xun, but his gaze wasn’t focused on Ke Xun’s body. He seemed to be looking through Ke Xun, as if gazing further away.

“How is Ke’er and the others?” Ke Xun heard Wei Dong ask.

—Wei Dong couldn’t see him!

“Dongzi?” Ke Xun called to him tentatively.

Wei Dong didn’t hear him at all, and was trying hard to get up from the deck.

Ke Xun turned his head to look at Qin Ci, who seemed to have answered his words earlier. “Brother Qin, can you hear me?”

“How is everyone?” Qin Ci turned to ask the others.

“Fortunately good.” Shao Ling’s hair was also a little messy. “I thought I wouldn’t feel the so-called fear riddled in horror movies at all. But it seems that I was wrong. I didn’t even know that I was afraid of something.”

“I have to thank my brother.” Luo Bu rubbed at the frightened tears on his face. “It was my brother’s pornographic jokes that saved me. When that ‘thing’ grabbed my ankle last night, I remembered my brother pretending to be Sadako and grabbing my feet, telling me about the use of feet…”

Ke Xun frowned. It seemed that Qin Ci’s response just now wasn’t answering his question, but just talking to the person next to him.

They couldn’t see him anymore!

Ke Xun turned to look at Mu Yiran. Fortunately, he was still with himself. He said he wanted to be with him, so now he was really still here.

“We and they seem to be in different spaces,” Ke Xun said. “Why? Isn’t that pheasant dead? Is there more than one?”

Mu Yiran turned around. “I’ll check if it’s still alive.”

How could it be alive with an arrow through its head? However, the world of this painting may not follow common sense.

Ke Xun went with him and saw that the creature, larger than an ordinary wild pheasant, had fallen on the side of the ship. The arrow was still embedded in its head, with blood and flesh puckering out at the tip. Its long, narrow, and seemingly smiling eyes were blank, with the pupils floating toward the upper lids, exposing the whites of its large eyeballs.

Such eyes weren’t normal for birds. But regardless of whether it was a demon or a bird, it was now dead.

Ke Xun looked out into the sea, trying to find if there were any other additional oddities. However, the surface of the sea was dark, as it coated in a layer of oil, making it impossible to see what was underneath.

As he stared out into the sea, he suddenly heard Wei dong’s heart wrenching cry come from behind him. “Ke’er—you fucking come back to me!”

Ke Xun hurriedly turned his head to look and saw Wei Dong rushing to the place where he and Mu Yiran had stood last night, beginning to cry bitterly.

With the death of the pheasant, the rhino horn was burned out, leaving no trace of ashes behind.

They couldn’t see him and Mu Yiran. They thought that the same fate that had befallen Li Yi, Xue Ge, and Fang Fei had also befallen them. They thought that, once the rhino horn was lit, they would die.

Shao Ling and Qin Ci were silent, while Luo Bu also began to cry. Zhu Haowen stared blankly, standing motionless at the far end.

No one realized that Ke Xun and Mu Yiran were still alive, and that they were standing by their sides at this very moment.

“So,” Ke Xun withdrew his gaze from Wei Dong and looked at Mu Yiran, the only one who was still with him, “the both of us are…dead?”

Mu Yiran pursed his lips, and after a while, shook his head slightly. “No, this isn’t certain for the time being. The night isn’t over yet, and we haven’t suffered any harm. Maybe we have a chance, because we still have time.”

“That’s right.” Ke Xun was quick to cheer up. “Let’s hurry! Now that I think about it, is it possible the same thing happened to Li Yi, Xue Ge, and Fang Fei? Even if they were not killed by the pheasant after lighting the rhino horn, they became like us. They could see us, but couldn’t interact with us?”

At that time, no one imagined that their companions were actually still alive, and were even by their sides.

“But according to the rule that someone must die every night in the painting, even if they were still alive at the time, they would not live til dawn.” Mu Yiran was more sensible than the emotional Ke Xun. “So you and I must find a way out of this dilemma before dawn.”

“I’ll take a look in the sea!” Ke Xun said, “Maybe there’s something under the sea that’s the key to breaking the game.”

“You can’t go into the sea,” Mu Yiran vetoed. “You can’t enter the sea until dawn.”

“But once it’s dawn, it’s the end for us,” Ke Xun said. “Did you hear the sounds coming from the sea? There were a lot of noises, a cacophony of noises, and so I think there are definitely more than pheasants undersea. There may be many pheasants, or other things.”

“If you have to, use the rhino horns to draw them up, so you wouldn’t be groping about in the dark after entering the sea and die ten deaths,” Mu Yiran said coldly.

They had a dispute for the first time.

Seeing that his boyfriend was getting angry, Ke Xun quickly relented. “Okay, you’re handsome, you have the final say. But we don’t seem to be in that space anymore, so I’m afraid we won’t be able to pick up the rhino horns.”

“Let’s give it a try first.” Mu Yiran strode toward the central hall where the rhino horns were stored, and Ke Xun quickly followed after him.

He couldn’t bear to stay on the deck anymore. Wei Dong’s cries were making his chest painful.

However, just as he’d guess, they were unable to pick up the rhino horns. Whenever they tried to touch a physical object, their hands or limbs would go directly through it, as if it was made of liquid.

“This is simply the truest portrayal of the separation of yin and yang.” Ke Xun shook his head and then reached out to caress Mu Yiran’s face, only to find that it was as warm as ever.

“The separation of yin and yang…” Mu Yiran held Ke Xun’s hand, and his eyes flickered. “Your reminder is very timely–burning rhinoceros is a bridge that connects yin and yang. The rhino horn we lit tonight was burnt out, so we’re left in this space. Maybe, if a rhino horn is ignited, the two realms will be reconnected and we can go back.”

“This makes sense.” Ke Xun held Mu Yiran’s hand and shook it, as if complimenting him. “But our current problem is how do we ignite this inaccessible rhino horn…Or should we blow up another mobile phone?”

“Yes.” Mu Yi nodded.

Ke Xun removed the bag full of mobile phones from his back, took one out, and threw it at the rhino horn. However, the phone also went through the rhino horn, as if sinking into water.

“So everything on our body is also in another time and space, like us?” Ke Xun wondered as he grabbed another mobile phone. He wrapped his clothes around his hand to prevent injuries and pulled out the battery. He smashed it, causing fire to flash. When it came into contact with the rhino horn, the rhino horn oddly transformed into a wave of water and the fire passed through it.

“It’s not working. We’re completely isolated in a different time and space.” Ke Xun scratched his head and turned to look at Mu Yiran. “We…can’t go back?”

Mu Yiran pressed his lips together and stared at the pile of rhino horns on the ground. Meanwhile, Ke Xun walked to the ship’s side to stare out into the sea, not wanting to disturb his thinking.

Suddenly, he heard a short cry from Luo Bu. When he looked over, he saw that Wei Dong had fainted onto the ground, and Qin Ci was removing his hand from his neck.

“…” Ke Xun walked over. Although Qin Ci was a doctor, he’d never done this kind of work before. But fearing that Wei Dong would be too sad, he probably felt that he had to act.

Luo Bu thought that Qin Ci must have gone crazy. He was so scared that he dared not cry anymore and simply looked back and forth between Qin Ci and Wei Dong, at a loss.

Qin Ci ignored him and calmly told Zhu Haowen and Shao Ling. “Now’s not the time to be sad. We must immediately figure out a way to break this game.”

Shao Ling frowned and fell into thought, while Zhu Haowen remained silent.

Qin Ci raised his hand and patted Zhu Haowen’s shoulder. In a warm voice, he said, “Haowen, us leaving this painting safely would be the best comfort for them. I know you’re feeling terrible, but…”

“No,” Zhu Haowen interrupted him. He turned his gaze to the night sky and said, “We still have some time before dawn. In previous nights, once the darkness faded, the sky would dawn. But right now, something’s not right. Something must have happened in the first half of the night. Ke Xun and Mu Yiran would never do something too late–”

After saying this, Zhu Haowen pressed his lips together and walked toward the end of the deck. The sky was faint and visibility was low. Qin Ci knew that Zhu Haowen wanted to find the clues that Ke Xun and Mu Yiran must have left behind, and so he followed him.

Zhu Haowen brought out his phone, tried to turn on the flashlight, and found that it worked.

Ke Xun speculated that it might be because they’d killed the pheasant, and so their ability to use light at night must have been restored.

The bright light illuminated the deck within a few meters in front of Zhu Haowen. As he walked slowly fowardly, he studied the deck carefully, as if wanting to find any last traces they’d left in the world.

Then, under the light of the mobile phone, he saw a pheasant with an arrow through its head.

“They shot it to death!” Qin Ci exclaimed.

“They can see it!” Ke Xun’s eyes lit up, and he turned to call back to Mu Yiran. “Yiran, I found a way!”

—This pheasant was the only thing that could be seen and touched by the people in both dimensions!