Midnight Screening (3)
A wave of overwhelming fear surged through her, as if her blood had frozen in that instant.
The middle-aged woman expected her mind to go blank, expected to be paralyzed in shock, expected to scream in terror.
But in reality, her thoughts raced faster than ever, and she quickly realized that answering truthfully could very likely lead to disastrous consequences.
—Under normal circumstances, no host would run away after guests arrive.
In life-threatening situations, people sometimes develop sudden cleverness.
She heard a calm female voice and, after a moment, realized it was herself speaking.
“I… am the host. Esteemed guest, please, come inside quickly!”
The black monster seemed somewhat surprised, placing its two clawed hands on its head and twisting sharply to the right.
A crisp crack sounded, and the original masculine face was replaced by a delicate, feminine one.
The monster removed its hat politely and spoke in a melodious voice, like a nightingale:
“Apologies, I misjudged the situation. Most households in your country are male-led; I assumed yours was the same…”
“Then, esteemed lady, please accept my apologies for my ignorance and impertinence.”
Ignoring the monster’s terrifying appearance, its manners and speech were elegant and proper.
The woman steadied herself. “It’s okay. Mistakes happen, I forgive you.”
No sooner had she spoken than she noticed a note in her palm.
Opening it, she saw the title “Host-Guest Harmony”, with the following content:
Respected lady, because your subordinate revealed your home address, a curious Píng-Zè monster has come to visit, wishing to experience the local refined hospitality.Please entertain “her” warmly, ensuring a scene of complete host-guest satisfaction.(P.S.: The Píng-Zè monster’s affection toward you has reached a passing level and offers an additional tip — in a household, everyone except the head is considered a subordinate. The head may deal with subordinates as they see fit.)
Looking up, the woman saw that the Píng-Zè monster was already seated at the dining table.
On one side of the room stood a two-meter-high cage, containing a person in a faint — the husband who had just tried to run away!
His eyes were tightly shut, brows furrowed, as if trapped in a nightmare.
Noticing the fear in the woman’s gaze, the Píng-Zè monster spoke gently:
“Madam, rest assured, I won’t harm your possessions. It’s just that family members must be present during hospitality; I hope you understand.”
Its words, half formal, half casual, sent a chilling unease down her spine.
Calmly, the woman approached the dining table to entertain the uninvited guest. “May I ask, honored guest, do you have any preferences or dietary restrictions?”
The Píng-Zè monster spoke softly, placing a menu in front of her.
“Thank you. I have no dietary restrictions, but please prepare the final dish properly.”
Scanning the menu at a glance, her eyes froze on the last dish.
It was called “Benevolent Hoof”, made from a living person’s leg, prepared with various sauces.
Her eyes darted instinctively between the caged husband and her own legs.
As for the child, she didn’t even consider him.
The woman knew she couldn’t overpower the Píng-Zè monster.
Her husband had tried to escape but was captured and caged.
Resisting forcefully would only result in the death of the entire family.
Yet to entertain the guest meant sacrificing someone — but who?
Previously, she would have instantly chosen to sacrifice herself.
But her husband’s escape and the monster’s words caused her inner hesitation.
Could a man who abandoned his wife and child truly take care of their son?
If he despised the child and she dragged her crippled leg, how could she support a half-grown child?
Food costs money, school costs money, nurturing interests costs money…
Gritting her teeth, she decided that it was his own fault — he should bear it himself!
She withdrew the nearly cold dishes, thoughtfully prepared tea and snacks, and asked the guest to wait briefly.
Then she entered the kitchen and grabbed a knife. Its gleaming blade reflected on the dark metal cage…
Step by step, the middle-aged woman managed the hardest part.
She sat calmly at the table with the Píng-Zè monster, speaking fluently about local cuisine and creating a lively atmosphere.
When the guest left, a gift was even given.
Host and guest were satisfied.
Once alone, her smile collapsed, and her psychological defenses crumbled.
She held her oblivious child and wept uncontrollably. “I… can never go back!”
After replying to messages, Ying Yan warmed up a bit of her studies, slung on her backpack, and hurried into school.
Five minutes before class, she arrived and sat in the first row under the lectern.
Perhaps the air conditioning had failed; the classroom felt stifling.
Hundreds of students filled the large room, their scents mixing into a peculiar odor.
The heat made many inattentive; they secretly played on their phones.
One girl even took a screenshot and sent it to a neighbor: “Do you have this Weird Question APP on your phone?”
The neighbor quickly replied: “The screenshot shows nothing.”
After a busy afternoon, Ying Yan ate while pondering the teacher’s points.
Only an hour before sleep did she make time to study the strange APP.
She searched online, frowning at the unusually sparse information.
Her fingers swiped, posting a summary of all the weird events she’d experienced.
But when she checked again, the post had large blank sections; keywords like “Round Table Meeting” and “Black Dome Hat” were erased.
This mysterious censorship resembled Mr. Butterfly’s methods, yet was even more domineering.
Unwilling to give up, she tried pinyin abbreviations, classical poetry metaphors, English references — making her post unintelligible — yet still failed.
She stared at the blank post, expression unchanged from when she faced the weird APP.
This small setback crushed her otherwise decent mood.
Previously, the urban legends were dangerous but didn’t block information flow.
Monsters even spread information to draw attention to incidents, for survival purposes.
Now, this app resisted even antivirus software, its dark logic flowing through her thoughts.
After a while, she suppressed her impulses, washed up, went to bed, and conserved energy for the next day’s battle.
At 8 a.m., she woke on time, bought steamed buns and soy milk downstairs, eating breakfast while listening to the news.
After finishing breakfast, she put on her headphones and headed toward the nearby Dreamy Cafe.
Crossing two streets, turning right at a traffic light, the flowing characters “Dreamy” appeared, with a few coffee-colored clouds drifting nearby.
The cafe was minimalist European style, with several seats outside a deep brown wooden door.
Succulent plants sat on the windowsill; wind chimes hung below the eaves, tinkling gently in the breeze.
Inside, soft light from a ceiling chandelier created a drowsy atmosphere.
Ying Yan greeted the yawning young man behind the bar. “Good morning, boss.”
The boss lifted his eyelids, half-asleep. “Morning. I remember you’re off today.”
She put coffee beans into the machine, selecting the Americano program.
Soon, she handed a disposable cup to the drowsy boss.
“This coffee is on me. Wake up; I’m not here to work.”
He sipped and woke briefly, only to drift off again shortly after.
Seeing this, Ying Yan felt a strange dissonance, sensing something was off.
But the boss’s unreliability was nothing new, so she didn’t dwell on it.
Morning traffic was sparse, but not absent. At 9:30 a.m., two people entered the cafe.
One familiar face, one unknown.
The stranger appeared in their twenties, with black hair in a high ponytail, a few strands framing their delicate face, clinging to porcelain-white cheeks.
Eyes lowered, brows cold and gloomy, wearing a black coat with hands in pockets — reminding Zhuang Ji of mushrooms sprouting in a rainy ravine.
—Yet, in the height of summer, they seemed unbothered by heat.
Perhaps Ying Yan’s mental commentary was audible; the person looked up cautiously, a subtle sharpness in their gaze. She met it openly.
Their eyes met, a silent tension hanging in the air.
Naive Yu Li didn’t notice anything amiss.
She bounded forward, round eyes sparkling with admiration. “Senior, we’ve arrived. I’m Yu Li — Yu as in ‘joy’, remove the vertical stroke; Li as in ‘dawn’. This is my elder brother, Zhuang Ji.”
Ying Yan withdrew her gaze, scrutinizing the youthful face, instantly recognizing her.
This was the junior who often came to the cafe to study (or nap) and cleverly hid under the table.
Many had been present that day, with assigned numbers up to 009.
Though she suspected this junior sent the messages, certainty was lacking.
She extended her hand. “I’m Ying Yan — Ying as in rightful, Yan as in banquet. Pleased to meet you.”
Yu Li grasped it instantly, faster than competing for the last piece of sweet-and-sour ribs with her brother.
“Senior, pleased to meet you. I look forward to learning from you.”
Zhuang Ji glanced once, silent.
He disliked interacting with strangers, but Yu Li’s pushy enthusiasm was exasperating to watch.
Fortunately, it was a senior, not a senior male.
He subtly shifted his gaze toward the newly met girl.
She wore a white blouse with a black skirt, hair meticulously styled, flowing lightly over her shoulders.
Watching her, a tingle in his right hand inspired an urge to draw.
After introductions, Ying Yan called the barista to start business, then led the two to a secluded corner to talk.
The main goal was mutual introductions, familiarization, and reaching consensus.
Since Zhuang Ji didn’t speak much and Yu Li idolized seniors, most of Ying Yan’s suggestions passed smoothly. The small meeting ended surprisingly quickly.
In short, the three aimed to complete tasks together.
If separated in the strange space, they would improvise, meet up, exchange clues, and survive as best as possible.
Their conversation was low; the cafe boss couldn’t hear and didn’t care.
He lazily made coffee, collected payments, ready to drift off again.
The sun rose and fell silently over the horizon. Time ticked quietly on the clock, the hands overlapping at 12.
Beneath the descending night, an empty suburban lot now stood a magnificent, ornate cinema.
Two or three large signs flanked the entrance, plastered with colorful movie posters.
No time to react — suddenly a bustling crowd appeared, shoving forward toward the theater.
They were entirely black, featureless faces, with a faint burnt smell.
Their torsos and limbs were indistinct, but their strength was tremendous, clearing obstacles without effort.
Caught off guard, Ying Yan and her companions were not walking into the cinema but being swept along by the crowd, helplessly pushed toward the ticket gate.
There stood two or three attendants, male and female, dressed in strange black-and-red uniforms.