Kaleidoscope of Death

Kaleidoscope of Death by Xi Zixu

After the many long nights, Lin Qiushi and Ruan Nanzhu still made no headway on the key.

Yet at the same time, they discovered that the evenings were getting shorter. First they were six hours long, then they were five, then four…This change had not been obvious at first, but came more and more into focus. Lin Qiushi and Ruan Nanzhu browsed the entire school, even going to some of the more peculiar places, but clues about the key seemed to have all gone missing, and the two of them could find no leads at all.

If they were going by the example of their previous doors, then the shortening nights was this door’s hidden time limit. If they couldn’t find the key, would they be simply trapped in this door? It was the thing Lin Qiushi feared most—he was scared of being separated from Ruan Nanzhu, and that the two of them would never see each other again.

The same was true for Ruan Nanzhu, but all of their efforts basically amounted to nothing. Beyond the continuous appearance of the ghosts, there were no other rules to their evenings. And all the monsters and demons changed by the lot too, while Lin Qiushi and Ruan Nanzhu grew more and more anxious about the shortening nights.

“The monster tonight only appeared three times.” On this particular day, near daybreak, Ruan Nanzhu had a candy in his mouth and was analyzing the situation with Lin Qiushi. “The rate of their appearances is dropping, and the difficulty is also dropping.”

A few days ago, the number of monsters reached its peak. That night both Lin Qiushi and Ruan Nanzhu sustained serious injuries, and Lin Qiushi even nearly lost his life. But ever since that day, the number of monsters sharply declined. Lin Qiushi thought at first it was the doors showing pity, but with Ruan Nanzhu’s analysis, they realized that the monsters from their doors had all pretty much shown up. At this point, ghosts from the doors they’d passed prior to their eleventh were appearing.

“Is this a good thing?” Lin Qiushi questioned, watching Ruan Nanzhu. “Is this a good thing?”

It should be a good thing. The monsters were lessening, which meant the amount of danger they were in was also lessening. Despite that, Lin Qiushi couldn’t bring himself to be happy.

“I don’t know.” Ruan Nanzhu’s tone was a bit down. “I’m also not sure if this door even has a key. But maybe the ‘No Solution’ from the hint we got has some deeper meaning that we’re not getting.”

Only, they had no idea what this meaning could be.

Lin Qiushi and Ruan Nanzhu held onto each other. The dawn that ought to represent hope grew heavy with their solemnity.

It was almost morning again; Lin Qiushi and Ruan Nanzhu had to leave each other. Faced with the shortening nights, Lin Qiushi was beginning to worry that he wouldn’t be able to see Ruan Nanzhu the following evening.

Ruan Nanzhu was obviously worrying too, though he didn’t say anything about it. He only clasped Lin Qiushi tightly in his arms. The two of them huddled close together, their shadows merging into one on the ground.

Light beams shot out from the horizon. Lin Qiushi wanted to resist that powerful drowsiness, but in the end failed. He fell deeply asleep, and in his arms, Ruan Nanzhu’s breaths too evened out.

As their evenings grew more peaceful, it was their days that became hard to bear. After Lin Qiushi woke, he got out of bed and sat silently by the window for a long time. Then he went over to his desk and began to fastidiously record something.

Knocking suddenly came at the door. Lin Qiushi went to open it, and saw Wu Qi, carrying food[1] and beer, on the other side.

“Are you alright, Qiushi?” Wu Qi was watching him with some concern. “I haven’t seen you in over a month, and you haven’t been picking up your phone.”

“I’m fine,” Lin Qiushi said. “I’m just busy with something.”

Wu Qi came in and saw the notebook open on Lin Qiushi’s table.

“What are you writing?” he asked oddly.

“Just recording stuff down,” Lin Qiushi answered. The truth was he wanted to write down everything that he and Ruan Nanzhu had experienced…he was scared that one day, he would forget these things.

Just like Ruan Nanzhu forgot that senior of his.

Lin Qiushi quickly cleared the table, and Wu Qi set the food down. He watched Lin Qiushi in worry, saying, “you’ve been holed up at home for over a month now. What the hell happened? Can’t you tell me? I’m worried about you.”

Lin Qiushi answered, “it’s nothing.”

Though Lin Qiushi was clearly brushing him off, there was nothing Wu Qi could do if Lin Qiushi didn’t want to talk about it.

So his good friend sighed, telling Lin Qiushi that he shouldn’t be tricked by some pyramid scheme or whatever, that the organizations these years were getting smarter and smarter, if something was going on with Lin Qiushi then he really ought to tell somebody…

Lin Qiushi listened to Wu Qi’s grumbling, and wasn’t annoyed at all. In fact, some nostalgia surfaced in his heart. In the original world, after Wu Qi passed, he hadn’t met anybody who cared for him in this fashion for a very long time.

As Wu Qi spoke, Lin Qiushi drank. The atmosphere between them was harmonious.

Around nine in the evening, Wu Qi took his leave. Lin Qiushi watched him go and lightly sighed. The truth was, if he didn’t have Ruan Nanzhu, then staying in this world didn’t seem like too bad of a thing.

But since he did have Ruan Nanzhu, Lin Qiushi wanted nothing more than to leave this door.

Once twelve o'clock came, Lin Qiushi could hardly wait to see Ruan Nanzhu again.

This time, however, the school they met at harbored no ghostly figures at all, only an empty campus in the darkness. Loud insect song played accompaniment, and at a glance, this looked just like a normal school.

“I saw a friend of mine.” Ruan Nanzhu, strolling hand-in-hand with Lin Qiushi in the school yard, suddenly spoke. “A friend of mine who died in the original world.”

“You two were close? Lin Qiushi asked.

"Mh,” Ruan Nanzhu said. “We grew up together, but before I went in the doors he had a car accident. And was gone.”

Lin Qiushi immediately thought of Wu Qi.

Ruan Nanzhu, “I didn’t think I would see him in this word. He’s still alive…and leading a good life.”

Lin Qiushi was silent. His voice was a bit hoarse when he finally spoke out loud the deepest fear in his heart: “Nanzhu, could it be that this door doesn’t have a key at all?”

Ruan Nanzhu’s breathing stalled.

“Is there really a twelfth door?” Lin Qiushi said. “Can we really get out?”

The hand that held Lin Qiushi’s squeezed tighter.

“No Solution, the hint we got was 'No Solution'…” Lin Qiushi said. “What in the world does that mean?”

They’d thought this was a trial at first, but after discovering that no matter what they did, they couldn’t find any hints about the key, another far scarier possibility came to mind. No Solution…what if it was referring to the key’s existence?

This was a door without a key. They could never leave.

Ruan Nanzhu too thought of what Lin Qiushi was thinking, and when he looked over at his lover, his dark eyes were given a touch more melancholy.

“I keep thinking about that senior of yours.” On such a peaceful evening, Lin Qiushi ought to be counting their luck, but he simply couldn’t bring himself to smile. Without the pursuit of ghosts, they had more time to contemplate the future, but the more they thought, the more they found the future enveloped in despair.

“Everybody forgot him,” Lin Qiushi said slowly. “Will we forget each other too?”

At Lin Qiushi’s words, Ruan Nanzhu suddenly grew angry, snapping, “I’m not going to forget you!”

He stood up and, like a trapped beast, began prowling in circles.

“The key has to be hidden somewhere, it’s just that we haven’t found it yet. All we have to do is work a bit harder—”

Lin Qiushi reached out and held him. Kissed his cheek.

“Okay. We’ll keep looking.”

The bushes, the trees, every single building. Even inside the pond—Lin Qiushi and Ruan Nanzhu searched through every single corner of the school until the sun rose once more.

That day, night only lasted two hours. When the urge to sleep assaulted them, Ruan Nanzhu clutched at Lin Qiushi, nearing a meltdown. Their prediction was coming true. Their evenings were being cut shorter and shorter, until the nights might disappear altogether. And by the time the nights disappeared, they would never see each other again.

“No, I’m not going to sleep.” Ruan Nanzhu almost couldn’t keep his eyes open anymore, but still wouldn’t give up. He tried wounding his arm to keep himself awake, but it was all in vain.

Ruan Nanzhu still fell asleep.

Lin Qiushi’s eyes stayed fixed on Ruan Nanzhu’s sleeping face, his arms refusing to let go. That terrifying sleep infiltrated his mind, until he too was forced into dreams.

The next morning, a sunny day.

Lin Qiushi got out of bed and began writing at his desk. The notebook in front of him was nearly filled with densely packed words. On it was everything from his meeting with Ruan Nanzhu to everything he knew of Ruan Nanzhu. Chestnut meowed at his side, before lifting to tiptoes and leaping onto Lin Qiushi’s knee. It offered Lin Qiushi its body warmth, but as Lin Qiushi stared at the notebook before him, a sudden wave of a huge, indescribable pain surged inside him.

All he wanted was to die with Ruan Nanzhu. He hadn’t thought this last wish of his would be so difficult to achieve.

In the notebook was every tiny little piece of him and Ruan Nanzhu, but if he truly forgot, then what did all these little bits matter? Lin Qiushi buried his face in his hands.

Another night. This time, they only had an hour.

It felt like the final countdown, and the door was giving them the chance to bid each other goodbye.

“The key must exist!” Ruan Nanzhu grabbed Lin Qiushi’s hand. “We can’t give up, we have to go out—Qiushi, even if the nights are gone, let’s not give up? Please?”

Lin Qiushi, “okay.”

Ruan Nanzhu’s agitation had completely maxed out—it was the first time he seemed so out of control.

“I don’t want us to be apart, I don’t want us to be apart, Lin Qiushi…” Lin Qiushi watched his face, and went up to offer a comforting kiss, until Ruan Nanzhu finally calmed down.

Lin Qiushi made himself smile, rubbing at Ruan Nanzhu’s cheek with his thumb.

“I can’t do it—with this face of yours, I keep thinking it’s a felony.”

Ruan Nanzhu couldn’t laugh. There seemed to be a liquid light swimming in his eyes, but upon closer examination, it also didn’t seem like water at all. More like frozen ice.

“I won’t give up. I will definitely keep searching for the key,” Lin Qiushi said. “I’ll continue to look for you…I won’t give in…”

Ruan Nanzhu pulled Lin Qiushi into his own embrace.

“Do you like the daytime?” Lin Qiushi asked him.

“No,” Ruan Nanzhu said. “There’s lots of things during the day…but…you’re not there.”

Lin Qiushi stroked at Ruan Nanzhu’s hair, bit by bit. His fingers passed through the tresses, and the way he looked at Ruan Nanzhu with the love of a parent looking at his child.

“You would have had a much better life.”

Ruan Nanzhu wasn’t the same as him; Ruan Nanzhu had parents and a brother. If he didn’t have the doors, it was obvious he would’ve been a lot happier. He wouldn’t have had to face the threat of death, and he wouldn’t have had to lose so many dearly beloved friends.

“But you’re not there,” Ruan Nanzhu despaired. “Lin Qiushi don’t you get it? Any world without you is false!”

Lin Qiushi watched Ruan Nanzhu. He wanted to get a handle on his own emotions and keep offering comfort, but discovered that he just couldn’t do it. An hour had already passed. They couldn’t even be sure if they could see each other tomorrow.

“I…” There were things Lin Qiushi wanted to say, but he only got out the one word before his tears started to fall. He swiped them away with a rough palm. “I…don’t want to say goodbye to you.”

Ruan Nanzhu pressed his lips to Lin Qiushi’s eyes, kissing away the tears. He said, “then we won’t say goodbye.”

“I’m so glad to have met you,” Lin Qiushi said. “I’m not scared of those things at all, not anymore.”

They sat beneath the night sky, a river of stars just a tilt of the head away. Cool breeze caressed their cheeks, and all that was left around them was the quiet hum of insect song.

As if this were just another peaceful evening, and they were just a pair of lovers at a rendezvous, spilling their hearts out to each other.

Ruan Nanzhu said, “I’ll never give up. We have to go out…” He must be growing sleepy, because his voice was getting lower. “Lin Qiushi, you have to go out too…”

“Okay,” Lin Qiushi said. “I will.”

As soon as he said this, he, like Ruan Nanzhu, couldn’t help the closing of his eyes.

The two of them fell deeply asleep.

This was the last time Lin Qiushi saw Ruan Nanzhu at night.

When twelve o'clock came the next day, and he was hidden as usual in the school yard, Ruan Nanzhu was nowhere to be seen.

His lover had disappeared. Disappeared into the silent, lonely evening. Disappeared into another timeline.

Though he’d already guessed it all from the ever-shortening nights behind him, Lin Qiushi still completely broke down. He ran through the entire school, yelling Ruan Nanzhu’s name until the school’s security guards kicked him out.

Standing outside the school he called Ruan Nanzhu’s number, but found it wasn’t connected—Ruan Nanzhu was gone.

Lin Qiushi curled up on the curbside, burying his tear-covered face in his hands.

Lin Qiushi himself didn’t know how the rest of that evening passed. He only knew that by the time he gained consciousness again, he was in a hospital bed, aching all over. Wu Qi sat beside him, watching him in concern.

“Qiushi, are you okay?” Wu Qi’s tone was extremely cautious, like he was scared of shocking Lin Qiushi’s already-sensitive nerves.

“Fine.” Lin Qiushi stared at the snow-white ceiling above his head. “I’m just fine.”

Wu Qi started to speak, but stopped. Obviously, Lin Qiushi was not in a good state. Before he was brought to the hospital he’d tried to break into a school, and fought with security there before the police brought him here…

Lin Qiushi turned his head and looked at Wu Qi. His gaze was beyond strange, as if he was looking at some kind of monster. Stared at like this, Wu Qi got the chills.

“Qiushi?” he called quietly.

“Are you real?” Lin Qiushi said. “Or are you just a hallucination meant for comfort?”

Wu Qi, baffled, couldn’t quite sit still. He asked, “Qiushi, are you under too much stress?”

Was the stress too much? Lin Qiushi thought, could he actually have gone crazy? No. He hadn’t gone crazy. What had gone crazy was this world.

After a week or so at the hospital, Lin Qiushi snuck home without Wu Qi knowing.

The first thing he did when he got home was dig out the notebook he’d written his records in, reading carefully through every single detail scribed there.

He must remember. He had to remember.

Maybe Ruan Nanzhu’s senior had never even passed the eleventh door, so naturally, wouldn’t know about the twelfth. He had been forever shut away inside this door. Everybody outside began to forget him, things like his face and his name fading away. Only those closest to him could just remember to call him their senior.

But maybe after another while, nobody would even remember to call him senior. This was what Lin Qiushi thought as he pinched the notebook pages between his fingers.

Ever since that evening, Lin Qiushi never once returned to the dark nights.

His nights became quiet and peaceful, with nothing but insect hums. The ghosts were gone. And what was gone with the ghosts was his lover, Ruan Nanzhu.

Lin Qiushi began searching all around reality for news about Ruan Nanzhu.

When Wu Qi first learned what he was doing, he’d thought Lin Qiushi was having some kind of psychotic break. But then he’d found his friend to be calm, so calm that Lin Qiushi didn’t seem like any sort of mental patient at all. And so, with no other way about it, Wu Qi could only let Lin Qiushi continue on. He even secretly requested somebody’s help to look up the name Ruan Nanzhu in the PSB database. To his surprise, he actually found something.

“So Ruan Nanzhu is a real person.” Wu Qi took this bit of news to Lin Qiushi. “He’s even a local. He’s a college physics professor…”

At first, Lin Qiushi thought Wu Qi was joking. After he confirmed Wu Qi was serious, however, he was completely stunned for a long moment.

The next day, Lin Qiushi rushed to the school that Wu Qi mentioned in search of Ruan Nanzhu.

And Lin Qiushi actually saw him.

It was right between classes. Lin Qiushi saw a man wearing glasses walking down a small path. The man was tall, wearing a simple button-up and trousers, and had just gotten out of his car. The man’s face looked just like Ruan Nanzhu’s. Only, compared to Ruan Nanzhu’s cool and aloof aura, this man looked a lot gentler, and seemed easier to get along with.

The moment Lin Qiushi saw that man, his breathing stopped. He hesitated, but still darted forward, cautiously calling out, “Ruan Nanzhu?”

At the call the man turned and looked. He saw Lin Qiushi, but his gaze was a stranger’s.

“You are?” he asked with hesitation.

“You don’t recognize me?” Lin Qiushi said.

The man frowned, and shook his head.

“Sorry, I don’t remember having met you before.”

Lin Qiushi didn’t speak. He stared into the man’s eyes for a while before turning around.

“Sorry, I have the wrong person.”

The man startled, wanting to say something else, but Lin Qiushi left too quickly for the man to get anything in. How could he have gotten the wrong person? If he’d gotten the wrong person, how could he have called out his name?

Lin Qiushi couldn’t be bothered with a cover-up anyways. He made his way to the school’s entrance and began peeling open candy wrappers, keeping his head down. His motions were a bit keyed up. He stuffed the candies into his mouth one after another, trying to find peace in the familiar sweetness.

But in the end, he failed. Candy wasn’t enough to comfort Lin Qiushi. His emotions had once again reached a breaking point.

Every time—if the matter had to do with Ruan Nanzhu—Lin Qiushi had a hard time thinking through things in a composed manner. It was the same this time.

Why did Ruan Nanzhu suddenly appear during the day? What did this mean? Could something have happened on his side of things? Lin Qiushi bit loudly at the candy in his mouth. He turned to look at the school behind him.

It was a nationally acclaimed college, known for its STEM departments. To be a professor of physics at a school like this—at Ruan Nanzhu’s age—must mean that he’d been hugely successful in academia.

Lin Qiushi thought, perhaps this was Ruan Nanzhu’s life if he hadn’t encountered the doors—with fame and achievements and his whole life ahead of him.

Lin Qiushi got up off the ground. Likely due to an iron deficiency, his body couldn’t help but sway. He almost fell. This was a perfect world. With the exception of Lin Qiushi, everybody else had a happily fulfilled ending.

Lin Qiushi stumbled home, collapsing onto his bed. Chestnut hopped onto his back, meowing and meowing for Lin Qiushi to go feed it.

Lin Qiushi pet Chestnut’s soft fur and watched those beautiful, gem-like eyes. In a blur, he fell asleep.

The chime of twelve AM woke Lin Qiushi from his dreams. Lin Qiushi got out of bed and stared at the wall clock hanging not too far from him.

Though he could no longer enter the same space-time as Ruan Nanzhu in the evenings, he still woke at twelve o'clock on the dot every day, the evening’s clock chimes ringing in his ears.

Could he truly never leave this door? But didn’t Ruan Nanzhu say that the doors had no dead ends? Or were all the rules invalid once they reached the eleventh door?

With such a thought in mind, Lin Qiushi once again dialed Ruan Nanzhu’s phone number.

“We’re sorry, but the number you have called is not connected. Please check the number and dial again. We’re sorry, but the number you have called is not connected. Please check the number and dial again…”

The cold mechanical voice came from the other end of the line. Lin Qiushi sat in his own apartment, surrounded by the terrifying silence. There was only the ticking clock on the wall in front of him. His gaze fell on the clock, watching the pendulum sway back and forth with every tick. The hour hand had already passed twelve, and was making its way toward one.

Lin Qiushi watched that clock, but suddenly recalled the hallway he saw when he entered the doors. There were twelve metal doors on either side of the hall, so why twelve?…It seemed like they’d never considered this question.

Lin Qiushi’s gaze shifted back to the clock. He saw, on the clock face, the twelve numbers plated in black. An odd thought suddenly burrowed out of his brain.

Lin Qiushi stood up, and walked over to the clock.

Translator’s Note:

1. More specifically, Wu Qi brought him 滷菜, which is food/veggies cooked in a salty mixture of soy sauce and spices. It’s typically cheap street food often eaten with drinks.