Kaleidoscope of Death

Kaleidoscope of Death by Xi Zixu

It was an afternoon after they’d both returned to reality when Ruan Nanzhu figured out that Lin Qiushi had likely detected his little secret.

Ruan Nanzhu had nothing to do that day, and was flipping through a book on the balcony. And when he found an interesting line, he had read it out loud to Lin Qiushi.

He said, “when you gaze into the abyss, the abyss also gazes back at you.”

Lin Qiushi was napping at first, but when he heard this, he mumbled back, “anything you do unto the abyss will be reflected back at you, is that it?”

“Probably.”

Ruan Nanzhu didn’t think too much about it, leaning down to kiss Lin Qiushi on the mouth.

Then he heard Lin Qiushi say, “then maybe I should pull my zipper down at you…”

Ruan Nanzhu went still for a moment before chuckling quietly. In that moment, he understood that Lin Qiushi knew everything.

“That’s right,” was how Ruan Nanzhu answered. “So you should treat the abyss better.”

Regarding the oddities in their life—at first, because all his attention had been on Ruan Nanzhu, Lin Qiushi hadn’t noticed. After Ruan Nanzhu returned though, all these oddities began gradually floating up to the surface, like icebergs hidden under the sea.

In Lin Qiushi’s memories, he did not smoke. Even if he carried smokes on him, it was for the convenience of handing to others in his line of work. But after leaving the doors, he became fully an addict. He could smoke multiple packs a day, and felt none of the disparity of a first-time smoker.

And the family that had once been so distant began constantly contacting him, saying all this stuff like how much they worried about him. Bai Ming too—he was supposed to be Ruan Nanzhu’s good friend, but now was acting like he’d known Lin Qiushi for years…

All these things, Lin Qiushi took in without looking in too deeply.

The answers to some questions weren’t all that important to have. As long as Ruan Nanzhu was by his side, he felt like it was enough. As for what Ruan Nanzhu was…

Lin Qiushi reached out and caught his lover’s earlobe in a pinch. Leaning his face in close, he murmured against Ruan Nanzhu’s cheek: “My dear, what in the world are you?”

Ruan Nanzhu was reading, and glanced up at Lin Qiushi. Suddenly, he smiled.

“I’m your milk tea,” he said.

Lin Qiushi, “…”

Ruan Nanzhu, “aren’t you going to ask me why I’m your milk tea?”

Lin Qiushi lifted a brow. “The last time I heard this joke I was still a virgin. And now I’m already a mother of three.”

And the two began to laugh, the atmosphere filled with the feeling of joy.

Ruan Nanzhu thought at first that Lin Qiushi would pursue the question, but Lin Qiushi only stretched and got up off the bed. He said he was going to take a shower, and ended the topic there.

Ruan Nanzhu watched Lin Qiushi go and parted his lips, mouthing a few words. Had Lin Qiushi turned right then, he would have found Ruan Nanzhu telling him one thing—I’m the door.

I’m the door. That’s right. What Ruan Nanzhu said was, I’m the door.

He was the twelfth door.

But the truth was, prior to the night-time riot of a hundred ghosts, Ruan Nanzhu had not been aware of this fact. His memories were flawless, as if he truly was the leader of Obsidian. As if he—having started entering doors as a teenager, having surmounted countless obstacles and tribulations, and having finally made it past the tenth door with great difficulty—was a completely normal person. Ruan Nanzhu had possessed no memories regarding the doors, and had also been of the firm belief that he was a simple human.

This firm belief of his, after the night of a hundred ghosts had ended for him and Lin Qiushi, had been abruptly shattered.

Back then, the hours of the day were getting longer and longer, while their nights got shorter. The time Ruan Nanzhu and Lin Qiushi had together too had entered a countdown. When night no longer came, Ruan Nanzhu thought he was never going to see Lin Qiushi again—he’d gone crazy looking for the key and trying to escape, but very faintly, he’d also realized that some things appeared to have slipped out of his control…

What he hadn’t told Lin Qiushi was that he also saw ghosts during the day. At first, this was because he didn’t want Lin Qiushi to worry. After, it was because he realized these ghosts wouldn’t hurt him. Terrifying ghouls lived on every corner, and even when Ruan Nanzhu opened his own suitcase, he would find the horrifying Hako Onna hidden inside—she had on such an innocent expression when Ruan Nanzhu dug her out, was all.

From the initial shock tinged with terror to the cold numbness that followed, Ruan Nanzhu went through about half a month like this.

By the time he truly comprehend that he would never see Lin Qiushi again, Ruan Nanzhu could already coolly sock the lady-ghost perched at the head of his bed onto the ground, telling her icily to not squat above his head, that he wouldn’t grow tall this way…And perhaps he was seeing things, but he thought that after he said this, the lady-ghost looked a little bit wronged.

Angrily, Ruan Nanzhu had thought why are you feeling wronged? I haven’t even had a chance to feel wronged.

At that point, though the situation around him was growing increasingly eerie, Ruan Nanzhu was still completely ignorant. He had no idea what was happening, and even thought that this was the doors punishing him. That was what he believed until one day, a little spirit in red guided him to a particular location.

When Ruan Nanzhu got there, he instantly recognized it as the apartment where Lin Qiushi had once lived. Only, the apartment complex hadn’t been fully constructed yet, and it was all still ancient builds of tongzilou.

That little spirit-ghost was standing on the fifth floor, waving to Ruan Nanzhu. Ruan Nanzhu looked up at her, frowning.

“The fifth floor? What have you brought me here for?” He observed the ghost’s appearance a little more closely, and said in disbelief, “you’re not Satchan, are you?”

As soon as he said this, the little ghost before him smiled shyly…though, her making such an expression with that ghastly pale face wasn’t cute at all.

Ruan Nanzhu was in a hurry to leave, but had no lead on the key still. So he figured he’d try any last resort, and went to see exactly what Satchan wanted to show him.

Ruan Nanzhu went up to the fifth floor and headed toward the room at the very end. He pushed open the barely-shut door, and found an abode. There was nobody in the room, only an old and dilapidated television sitting at the head of the bed. It seemed to be playing some kind of program.

Ruan Nanzhu’s gaze fell on that television, and a bit of shock came into his eyes. He even thought he was seeing things as he sped over to the screen. Only then could he be certain that the TV really was showing him a young Lin Qiushi.

Lin Qiushi was walking on a small path. Two people appeared at his side, and they were both people Ruan Nanzhu recognized—Xiong Qi and Xiao Ke, whom they’d met in their first door. Ruan Nanzhu held his breath, eyes stuck to the image on the screen.

“Where are we?” The young Lin Qiushi looked very youthful, and harbored terror in his dark eyes. He carefully asked next, “who are you guys?”

The images kept playing, and Ruan Nanzhu watched it all. What the television played was how Lin Qiushi passed his first door without Ruan Nanzhu.

Ruan Nanzhu’s fingertips grazed the icy screen, gently caressing Lin Qiushi’s cheek through the glass. Even this young, Lin Qiushi was so easily entrancing.

He was just like raw, undiscovered ore; anyone who knew true value could see that there were dazzling treasures to be had inside.

So smart and brave and calm. Someone who wasn’t blindly kind and yet maintained a bottom line—Ruan Nanzhu thought that under any and all circumstances, his lover still so thoroughly captured all attention.

The program on the television became a TV show, and it was all about Lin Qiushi. It was about how he entered doors, how he met a group of friends, how he took over Obsidian…

Ruan Nanzhu watched obsessively. A thought even popped into his mind, that why, when Lin Qiushi was going through all this, had he not been by Lin Qiushi’s side? If only he could be with him, then how wondrous an experience that would be…And then Ruan Nanzhu startled back to attention, having detected his own odd state.

He had been at Lin Qiushi’s side, and had gone through the test of the eleventh door with Lin Qiushi. But if that was so, then why had such a thought come to his mind just now?

Ruan Nanzhu could sense that something was wrong.

And that sense of wrongness grew broader, following the development of the TV show, as if an unstoppable pandemic.

Ruan Nanzhu saw Lin Qiushi’s family in the show, and saw that the way they interacted was exactly the same as how he and his own family interacted. Ruan Nanzhu even saw Bai Ming, who ought to have been his own friend. On TV however, he was Lin Qiushi’s sworn brother…

Lin Qiushi slowly grew up. Out of youth, he became a grown, mature man. The people around him came and went, yet his initial resolve never wavered, as if any darkness that was cast upon him couldn’t even leave a shadow.

After watching Lin Qiushi for three days and three nights straight, Ruan Nanzhu finally realized something…He, didn’t seem to be human.

He hadn’t so much as rested in three day’s time, but he didn’t feel hungry. Nor did he feel tired. He was still full of energy, and had maintained his optimal state.

Time was null where he was concerned.

The ghost who had brought him here squatted beside him, staring up with big eyes

Ruan Nanzhu had been wary of her at first, but later grew exasperated. He said, “what are you showing this to me for? You want to tell me I’m not human?”

Satchan twisted her head, and said nothing as she watched Ruan Nanzhu.

Ruan Nanzhu had more to say, but Satchan pointed a finger at the screen, indicating Ruan Nanzhu should keep watching.

Ruan Nanzhu thought, it wasn’t like things could get worse. So he’d keep watching. He couldn’t leave, and he couldn’t see Lin Qiushi—it hardly mattered at all if he kept watching.

So Ruan Nanzhu kept watching as Lin Qiushi’s time ticked on forward.

He was like a voyeur, peeking into every corner of Lin Qiushi’s life after Lin Qiushi began entering doors. He watched Lin Qiushi cry, and he watched Lin Qiushi laugh. Watched his brilliant smile when he made new acquaintances, watched him sob himself mute when he lost a dear friend. Time ticked on bit by bit, and the Ruan Nanzhu who didn’t need to rest had already lost all concept of the thing.

Finally, the images underwent a decisive change.

Ruan Nanzhu watched Lin Qiushi enter his twelfth door, and when the scenery twisted, Lin Qiushi appeared in a familiar rental apartment.

And at the same time, the scene around Ruan Nanzhu too began to change. Ancient decor retreated, and his surroundings became identical to what was on TV.

On the television, Lin Qiushi lied deeply asleep in bed. A dark shadow appeared beside him. There was no discernible shape to the shadow. It was only a clump of dark umbra. The shadow extended a finger and very carefully touched Lin Qiushi’s cheek. It went from forehead to nose to lips, all exceedingly gentle, as if it was scared of waking the sleeping Lin Qiushi.

Then the shadow’s form began to change. Black retreated from his body as he began to look more and more like a person, until at one particular point, he looked completely identical to the Lin Qiushi lying on the bed.

But the shadow didn’t seem to want to have the same face as Lin Qiushi, and so quickly changed its appearance again. The moment the shadow decided on its final form, Ruan Nanzhu, who was watching all this from outside the television, chuckled bitterly—that shadow looked exactly the same as he did.

That’s right. The shadow was Ruan Nanzhu.

Had it been anybody else, seeing this might have driven them crazy. But Ruan Nanzhu remained calm. Honestly, watching Lin Qiushi’s life these past days, he’d already fathomed such a guess. It was just that seeing it with his own eyes now was still a little bit shocking.

On the television, Ruan Nanzhu smiled so longingly at Lin Qiushi. Then he began to fade, disappearing from Lin Qiushi’s side.

And when Lin Qiushi woke up the next morning, the first thing he discovered was that Chestnut wouldn’t let him hold it anymore.

The cat that had been so attached to him actually hissed and puffed up its fur at him, as if it didn’t recognize him at all. And cat-slave Lin Qiushi, after seeing such a thing, was at a complete loss for what to do. Against the cat perched up on high ground with such a look of disdain on its face, Lin Qiushi could only mope, saying, “Chestnut, why don’t you want daddy anymore? Chestnut?”

Once Ruan Nanzhu saw Lin Qiushi in such a state, his shoulders began to tremble. And then hearty guffaws were spilling out, because he knew that the story that belonged to him and Lin Qiushi was about to begin.

Sure enough, a few days later, Lin Qiushi opened a door.

The inside of the door ought to have been a sight he’d already seen, but because his memories had been altered, his gaze was completely strange. And this time, the path that he walked on had a new, unfamiliar face.

Ruan Baijie in women’s clothes shuffled pathetically up to Lin Qiushi with tears in her eyes, asking Lin Qiushi where they were.

And when Lin Qiushi asked for Ruan Nanzhu’s name, it was the three words “Ruan Baijie” that came out of Ruan Nanzhu’s lips.

This was how they met.

The Ruan Nanzhu back then had also thought he was a regular human. He’d gotten his wish; in another way, he’d become an addition to Lin Qiushi’s journey, and became an integral character who could not be removed from Lin Qiushi’s life.

This was very satisfying to Ruan Nanzhu. Only, everything had to come to an end. Even the twelfth door had to end.

Ruan Nanzhu had still not recovered any memories of when he’d been inhuman. He only knew that he wasn’t human, but what in the world was he? Ruan Nanzhu was still thinking of this question when he glanced at Satchan blinking up at him.

He suddenly said, “I’m not the NPC guarding the twelfth door, am I?”

Satchan peered at Ruan Nanzhu, not speaking, but Ruan Nanzhu spotted a touch of disdain in her gaze.

Ruan Nanzhu, “…” Ah fuck, it seemed he was.

To tell the truth, wiping his own memories to the point where it was likely he’d never get it back seemed to Ruan Nanzhu like something he was capable of. And now, he’d obtained his objective; he’d gotten the affection of the one he loved.

“I’m a bit happy about this, what do I do.” There was nobody here, only endless ghosts, and Ruan Nanzhu sat in the dark softly grinning. “I just think about all that we’ve been through, and I feel so blissed out.”

Satchan naturally wouldn’t give him an answer.

“But now comes the problem. How do I get out?” Ruan Nanzhu lifted his head, looking around at the unfamiliar apartment. “I can get out, right?”

He thought about it for a moment before looking at Satchan once again.

“What else do you know?”

Satchan peered at a clock on the wall.

Ruan Nanzhu, “the clock?” He stood up, watching the ongoing, twelve-numbered clock, sinking deep into thought. Then he took the clock down.

He took the cover off the clock, and when he found nothing inside, pressed the button that controlled the hour hand, starting to turn it. Suddenly, he thought of something, and asked Satchan one last question: “That’s right…When Qiushi and I crossed the doors, if I didn’t successfully pass, would I have died?”

Satchan’s expression at this went a bit strange, looking slightly like pity, and also like she was looking at a mental patient. In the end, she nodded.

Ruan Nanzhu snickered, thinking this really was his style—everything had to be done to perfection, and approximate reality as much as possible.

Ruan Nanzhu turned the clock. Moments later, two keys fell to the ground. He picked them up, read the words on them, and couldn’t help but smile again.

Illusory life, an authentic death. No matter what kind of world Lin Qiushi wanted, Ruan Nanzhu would give it to him.

He could choose a cruel reality, or he could choose a beautiful dream. And the power to choose, Ruan Nanzhu had already set in Lin Qiushi’s hands.

Only now that he thought about it, it was all probably superfluous; Ruan Nanzhu hardly needed to think to know Lin Qiushi’s answer. He grabbed the key and left the building. He opened the door and found only one door in the hallway. That door was filled with gentle white light. Ruan Nanzhu approached and stepped inside.

The world-line changed accordingly.

The members of Obsidian, who first had no memory of a person named Ruan Nanzhu, felt a little extra something in their minds. So when they saw Ruan Nanzhu coming downstairs in the mansion, nobody looked shocked—Ye Niao even called Lin Qiushi in a state of excitement, telling Lin Qiushi that Ruan-ge was back.

On the other end of the line, Lin Qiushi was of course ecstatic.

Ruan Nanzhu, on the other hand, sat in the living room, silently observing his surroundings to make sure that it was no different from the ones in his memories.

“Ruan-ge, you’re finally back,” Ye Niao was saying to him. “Don’t you know how hard Lin-ge had it this past year?”

“Year?” Ruan Nanzhu startled. “It’s already been a year?”

“Yeah,” Ye Niao said. “It’s already been a year.”

Ruan Nanzhu thought that it was a good thing he didn’t hesitate. Had he waited any longer, Lin Qiushi’s kids would already be three by the time he came out…

The two reunited in joyous embrace.

Lin Qiushi actually never asked why Ruan Nanzhu was only showing up now. The truth was, as long as Ruan Nanzhu came out, Lin Qiushi would never fault him.

But even immersed in happiness, Ruan Nanzhu quickly discovered one unfortunate thing. Ever since he came out of the door, the twelfth door for everybody else appeared to have been sealed off. A paper seal was stuck on it, as if telling the outside that the door was now empty.

With Lin Qiushi’s intellect, after linking such an incident to other oddities, it wasn’t difficult to guess that Ruan Nanzhu wasn’t human. When he realized this, Ruan Nanzhu felt a bit panicked. He couldn’t be certain, after all, whether or not Lin Qiushi would mind. At the end of the day, questioning whether or not your lover was a door god didn’t seem to be a particularly joyous occasion.

And so when Ruan Nanzhu took the phone that Lin Qiushi had been browsing the forums on, he’d closely observed Lin Qiushi’s reaction. Only when he found nothing changed in his lover’s expression—that Lin Qiushi didn’t seem to have noticed at all—did Ruan Nanzhu let out a held breath.

Of course, only later did Ruan Nanzhu realize that it wasn’t that Lin Qiushi didn’t know, it was that he pretended not to know; he didn’t care at all what Ruan Nanzhu was.

“So how did you befriend Bai Ming in the first place?” Lin Qiushi sat on the sofa, remote in hand and watching TV as he idly chatted with Ruan Nanzhu.

“He was in coincidental possession of a high-level door hint, and I needed to bring someone through. So we hooked up,” Ruan Nanzhu answered.

Lin Qiushi twisted around to look at Ruan Nanzhu, saying, “so what’s he coming to chat with me every day for?”

“Hey, can you two stop pretending like I’m not here, chattering away like that?” Bai Ming munched on the sunflower seeds that Ruan Nanzhu had just fried up, angry. “Go take your banter somewhere else! Also, it was love at first sight from me to you, Lin Qiushi, isn’t that alright?”

“No,” Ruan Nanzhu said. “Get your claws off him.”

Bai Ming, “hmph. Selfish.”

Lin Qiushi’s lips curved up, saying nothing.

Bai Ming got up and took his leave, saying his dearest had texted, that they were getting dinner.

“He still has time to get dinner with you?” Lin Qiushi commented idly. “Isn’t he busy with his new movie?”

“He is,” Bai Ming sighed. “But I like him making movies. Have you seen his The Way of Kings? I won’t lie to you, on that set, we—”

“Shut it,” Lin Qiushi and Ruan Nanzhu said at the same time, both of them hitting pause on Bai Ming’s dirty joke at top speed. They didn’t want unfortunate images coming to mind when they were watching the movie, after all.

“Damn.” Bai Ming flipped up his palms. “You two are just getting more and more alike.”

“Is it bad to be alike?” Lin Qiushi asked.

“You like dating someone with a personality so similar to yours?” Bai Ming said.

“I do.” Lin Qiushi started grinning, but his tone was perfectly serious as he spoke. “My personality’s great, why wouldn’t I like it?”

Bai Ming, “…” He’d realized the two of them were intentionally stuffing him dog food, and so turned and left promptly, cussing out the two bastards all the while.

Lin Qiushi and Ruan Nanzhu shared a hearty laugh. Then, watching each other, they found in each other’s gazes a certain profound meaning. Only, within that meaning, there was also love that couldn’t be concealed.

Why must some things be so clearly thought out? Lin Qiushi thought. As long as Ruan Nanzhu was by his side, it was enough.

[Ch. 139] | [Extra: Shameless Couple (1)]