Midnight Movie Viewing (4):
Although this cinema already screamed “weird” in every possible way—almost as if it were openly saying, “This place is definitely haunted”—the mission was right in front of them, and the tickets had been bought. There was no room to back out.
Ying Yan didn’t hesitate. She stepped forward, intending to set an example for the two newbies.
If anything unexpected happened, she could respond in time and reduce the risk of death.
This was a stubborn habit from her previous explorations of paranormal tales—she acted automatically, without considering whether the others could intuitively follow her lead.
Seeing this, Zhuang Ji silently withdrew his half-step forward, slowed his pace, and subtly fell back to the rear.
Anyone who reads horror novels knows: the person at the front bears the unknown risks, while the person at the back is easy prey if pursued. Both positions were relatively dangerous.
Only Yu Li followed happily behind her idol, blissfully unaware. The worst that could happen was being jostled in the crowd.
After they bought the tickets, a digital ticket appeared on their phone screens, saving them the step of picking it up.
The ticket was almost identical to a regular one, except for a line written inconspicuously on the back: “This ticket requires self-service gate scanning.”
In reality, some cinemas still used manual verification and sometimes even required tearing off a stub.
So Ying Yan approached the ticket gate and asked politely, “Excuse me, where do we scan our tickets?”
Up close, the black-and-red uniform looked even stranger. The clothes were entirely black, with dark red bleeding along the edges.
In the dim evening light, only mud-stained chest and collar were visible.
Above that was a pale, rigid face, lips moving slightly: “Please give me the ticket. I’ll help you.”
The tone and expression seemed normal, and Yu Li believed her at once. She reached into her pocket to hand over the ticket—but Ying Yan pushed it back.
Yu Li blinked, made no resistance, and simply returned the ticket to her pocket. Always trust the expert!
The man in the black-and-red uniform’s eyes flashed with a trace of malice as he spoke:
“The scanning gate is far from here, and the movie is about to start. I can verify your tickets manually and make sure no time is wasted.”
The surrounding crowd of “people” froze their expressions and echoed: “Yeah, yeah! Scan quickly, don’t block the way!”
At that moment, a pitch-black figure emerged from the crowd.
Once separated, it became a middle-aged woman in tattered clothes, her face and body clearly visible.
She wiped her hands on her clothes, pulled out a ticket from her pocket, and smiled: “Here you go.”
The other black-and-red uniform tore the stub and smiled politely:
“Welcome to ‘Snow Mountain Cinema.’ Enjoy your movie!”
Then a crowd surged forward.
Within moments, long lines formed before the black-and-red uniformed staff.
This is the psychological effect of conformity: when an individual feels the influence of a group, they doubt their own judgment and follow the majority.
Ying Yan and her companions were near the front. An impatient person shouted: “Are you scanning or not? If not, move aside!”
People behind joined in the shouting.
Ying Yan paused for half a minute but stuck to her original decision.
Her gaze passed over Yu Li’s confused little eyes and met Zhuang Ji’s slightly behind her. He nodded subtly.
Team consensus achieved—no need for further explanation.
Ying Yan grabbed Yu Li’s wrist and directly entered Snow Mountain Cinema.
The cinema’s décor matched its name: ceiling, walls, and floor were all snowy white.
Rows of suspended lights reflected, scattering dazzling brightness into the air, making everything a blinding white.
Within ten meters, two caves appeared as if built from ice and snow. Their entrances were quiet, their ends lost in darkness.
In the middle of one cave was a bright red flower bud, with a pale yellow core faintly visible.
It was clearly labeled “Self-service Gate,” just in case anyone missed it.
Seeing this, Ying Yan’s suspicion was confirmed: the previous black-and-red uniform had lied for some purpose.
For convenience, she had changed into shirt and pants, with the ticket in her pocket.
She reached in with her right hand and easily pulled out the ticket—but struggled to scan it.
The flower bud, no matter which angle, had no obvious place for a QR code.
The next moment, the previously docile flower bud suddenly opened, and the core extended, sticking to Ying Yan’s ticket, then pulled hard—
It didn’t budge!
Obviously, nobody present could wait for the flower to pull the ticket away.
Ying Yan grabbed the pale yellow core with her bare hand. Yu Li wielded a fruit knife, hacking at the bud.
Zhuang Ji furrowed his brow, transforming from calm vase to impatient older brother, pointing and instructing: “Trace the edges! Aim properly!”
The advantage of teamwork: if you can’t force through danger, you can always retreat!
The flower bud, only trying to scan the ticket, was beaten badly; several petals were ripped off, and a faint cry sounded:
“Stop! I’m just working! If you break me, you can’t get in! Hic~”
Heavens, it had chosen the easiest job!
Faced with the bud’s pitiful display, Ying Yan believed it only partially—but better to be prepared for both outcomes.
She signaled Yu Li to stop, secretly moving her aside.
Zhuang Ji instinctively moved to another side, sleeves slipping to hide a craft knife in his palm.
The three encircled the bud in a triangular formation. Ying Yan placed her ticket inside.
Feeling the pressure of the three, the flower trembled. The pale yellow core rolled, imprinting the ticket onto a flower-shaped QR groove.
Soon: “Ding—Scan complete. Enjoy your movie!”
Nothing else happened.
The ticket now had a black flower mark; the line “This ticket requires self-service gate scanning” disappeared.
Ying Yan examined the bud suspiciously. It had curled its petals into a pitiful, defenseless ball.
She raised an eyebrow, withdrew her gaze, and said: “Okay, scan away.”
Yu Li and Zhuang Ji scanned their tickets one by one.
The three proceeded and officially entered the cinema.
Inside, the lights were dim, illuminating rows of empty black chairs.
The large screen ahead emitted a faint white glow, casting a bleak light.
Fifteen minutes remained until the movie started.
Audience members quickly took their reserved seats, waiting for the film.
Ying Yan habitually scanned the surroundings.
In the dim light, she noticed a slight depression in a nearby chair—something invisible seemed to be sitting there, quietly awaiting the movie.
The presence of non-human audience members had been hinted at earlier.
When online ticketing opened, the best-view seats disappeared quickly.
Returning her gaze, Ying Yan focused on the big screen, collecting information.
Sensing Yu Li trembling slightly, she held her wrist silently, giving reassurance.
Yu Li gradually calmed.
Ten minutes before the movie, the screen’s light shifted from white to green, flickering slightly, and began showing other movie trailers.
At first, vast lakes appeared, with plants and fish swimming freely.
Suddenly, the harsh sound of suona horns filled the scene; red silk covered the screen.
As the silk withdrew, lakes dried up, corpses scattered, a world in ruin flashed by.
The sequence ended abruptly, no titles shown, and the screen switched to the next trailer.
In an instant, the images went from desolate decay to flourishing beauty, creating an aesthetic indifferent to audience survival.
Ying Yan frowned, rapidly absorbing chaotic information.
Aside from repeated mentions of “Senlan Flower Garden,” no usable clues were found.
The movie was about to start. She gathered herself, focusing on handling any sudden events.
The clock silently struck eleven; dozens of bulbs went out instantly.
Even the screen, which had been stubbornly playing trailers to mentally assault the audience, went dark.
The entire cinema fell into pitch-black darkness.
Only three or four seconds later, the screen lit up, finally starting the main feature.
First scene: a warm, cozy house.
Sunlight filled the windows, floor, and table, reaching up to the ceiling.
A young woman in her twenties, wearing light blue pajamas, sat at a desk with an old-fashioned telephone.
She looked excited and expectant, her healthy, beautiful face flushed, clearly in the throes of romance.
A colorful poster hung on the wall, the bottom right corner marked with the date—2024.3.13.
Ying Yan furrowed her brow, lightly moving her finger along the armrest.
By this time, in reality, such telephones were mostly obsolete.
The heroine seemed a standard urban beauty; almost everything in the room was brand new, not antique-loving.
Was the movie ignoring logic for horror effect?
Unlikely.
Ying Yan noted the details while thinking. Suddenly, something cold wrapped around her ankle under the chair—smooth, unlike any soft creature.
Her eyes fixed on the screen as she bent slightly, hand reaching for her ankle.
Good news: she caught it.
Bad news: it wouldn’t budge.
The audience area was pitch black.
But the texture didn’t feel alive—it felt like a long phone charging cable.
Confirming this, Ying Yan traced it toward the source.
To her shock, she realized a tangled bundle of wires had appeared on the chair back—something she was sure hadn’t been there when she sat down.
At that moment, a low voice floated into her ear:
“Senpai, my brother asked me to see if you want some fruit?”
Immediately, a neatly cut fruit platter was handed to her.
She caught it, noticing something fuzzy in the hat behind Yu Li.
Due to the dim light, it wasn’t clear.
“Something strange in your clothes—”
Before she could finish, the screen fractured; a white light shot out, spreading quickly.
In a few seconds, the entire cinema was filled with white light.
The three of them vanished from the spot.