Zhou Jiayu stared at the hand flopping on the ground, his entire expression frozen. The hand flailed for a while, then gradually slowed down, as if it had lost all energy, and finally went limp on the floor.

Cold sweat broke out all over Zhou Jiayu’s back. He glanced around, realizing that everything around him was shrouded in dimness. Only the faint light from the oil lamps on the walls flickered weakly—barely illuminating anything five meters away. Lin Zhushui was nowhere to be seen. Nor were those strange things from before. Everything was eerily quiet.

Thankfully, the little paper figurine was still in his arms, clutching at Zhou Jiayu’s sleeve, urging anxiously, “Eat, eat…”

“Eat?” Zhou Jiayu frowned. “Little Paper, eat what?”

“Eat you, eat you.” The figurine seemed agitated, tugging Zhou Jiayu’s sleeve, trying to pull him in another direction.

Zhou Jiayu immediately understood. He started following the little paper figurine’s lead, heading where it was pointing. The paper doll had been so agitated earlier—it was likely because of that massive creature they’d seen. Its strange words must have been a warning that the thing wanted to devour him.

As they moved, Zhou Jiayu kept replaying the moment in his mind, wondering exactly when he had grabbed the wrong hand. He clearly remembered the tunnel lights going out, then Lin Zhushui reaching out to him. Without thinking, Zhou Jiayu had simply grabbed the offered hand. Now that he thought about it… maybe the one he’d grabbed hadn’t been Lin Zhushui at all. No wonder that hand had felt odd. And Lin Zhushui had even told him to turn off the light—strange, since his teacher always insisted that fear was best conquered head-on, not avoided.

Looking down at his own right hand, Zhou Jiayu sighed, feeling a little dejected. Maybe handing over cigarettes really was safer.

The tunnel stretched endlessly ahead, the paper figurine acting as his guide. Zhou Jiayu whispered, “Little Paper, where are you taking me?” But everything in this tunnel looked the same. Even the oil lamps were identical, right down to their chipped edges. It felt like walking in circles, endlessly repeating the same stretch of road.

“Far away, far away,” the paper figurine urged, clearly uneasy, as if something dangerous was chasing them.

“Okay, okay, wait a sec. I’ll burn a talisman first.” Zhou Jiayu stopped and crouched, pulling out one of the talismans Lin Zhushui had given him, along with a lighter. He set the talisman aflame and watched it burn into ash. A faint fragrance, like sandalwood, spread in the air—it was the familiar scent that always clung to Lin Zhushui.

The scent calmed him a little. “Let’s go, Little Paper,” he said, holding its tiny hand as they walked on.

But the endlessly repeating scenery strained his nerves. It felt like climbing stairs with no end in sight. Worse, a sense of suffocation crept into his body. At first, Zhou Jiayu thought it was anxiety—but the more he paid attention, the more he realized it was real: oxygen deprivation.

Death from asphyxiation was horrible. The dying would scratch at their faces and throats until they bled, foam would bubble from their mouths and noses, their skin would turn a ghastly blue…

“Haah… haah…” Zhou Jiayu forced himself to slow his breathing, but the air only grew thinner. His body weakened. His quick steps faltered. Black spots began clouding his vision.

“Ugh…” He clutched at his throat, staggering along the wall.

The paper figurine noticed and panicked. “Papa, papa!” it cried, hopping onto his shoulder and frantically fanning him with its tiny hands.

Zhou Jiayu suddenly thought of something. With difficulty, he croaked, “Little Paper… can you carry me?” He remembered what Elder Xu of She Mountain had said: paper figurines were incredibly strong.

Sure enough, Little Paper leapt down and easily hoisted Zhou Jiayu into its arms. “Papa?”

Zhou Jiayu: “…” He felt like an awful father bullying his scrawny son—but now wasn’t the time to fuss over pride. After all, paper dolls didn’t need to breathe.

Carbon dioxide was heavier than oxygen, so the tunnel’s ceiling should still hold some leftover air. Little Paper lifted Zhou Jiayu higher toward the ceiling, and the crushing suffocation eased a little.

“Haah… haah…” Even so, Zhou Jiayu didn’t dare breathe deeply, fearing he’d use up the last of the air too quickly.

Seeing him recover a bit, Little Paper sighed in relief, then dashed forward at incredible speed. Zhou Jiayu felt like he was riding a motorcycle, zooming so fast that he nearly tumbled off, barely steadying himself by grabbing the wall.

My son is amazing, Zhou Jiayu thought vaguely.

Little Paper seemed to know the way, running straight ahead without hesitation. But Zhou Jiayu’s consciousness blurred. The air was so thin now that he could barely stay awake. His body weakened, slackened.

“Papa, papa!” Little Paper called anxiously, trying to keep him alert.

Just when Zhou Jiayu thought he’d pass out, he spotted a shape in the darkness ahead—human-shaped, moving toward him. In this desperate moment, any shape sparked hope.

As the figure drew closer, Zhou Jiayu saw who it was—his guard dropped at once. “Teacher…”

Standing at the tunnel’s end was Lin Zhushui, silently beckoning to him.

Little Paper gently set Zhou Jiayu down. He rushed toward Lin Zhushui. “Teacher!” Fresh air filled his lungs again—he could finally breathe properly. “Where did you go? I was looking for you everywhere…”

Lin Zhushui said nothing.

Zhou Jiayu frowned, feeling something off. “Teacher…?”

“Zhou Jiayu?” Lin Zhushui said. His voice carried an odd undertone… almost flirtatious.

A chill ran down Zhou Jiayu’s spine. His gaze dropped to the ground—and what he saw made his blood freeze. The oil lamp’s light cast a shadow… but Lin Zhushui’s feet cast none. No shadow at all.

Zhou Jiayu started to back away slowly.

The fake Lin Zhushui immediately noticed, tilting his head with a smile. “Why are you afraid of me?”

Zhou Jiayu blurted, “Teacher… there’s something behind you.”

“Oh?” Lin Zhushui turned his head, as if to look behind himself.

That movement confirmed Zhou Jiayu’s suspicion. Lin Zhushui would never turn around like that—he never even opened his eyes.

Zhou Jiayu ran. Little Paper froze for a moment but quickly followed.

They dashed out of the tunnel in one breath. Zhou Jiayu glanced back—no pursuit. Just as he relaxed, a soft voice whispered from his right: “Why are you running?”

It hit him like thunder. He stumbled back, turning to see… Lin Zhushui standing calmly at his side, expressionless, staring right at him.

Zhou Jiayu: “…”

“Why are you running?” Same face. Same voice. But this version felt entirely wrong. It slowly opened its eyes—dark, evil eyes, full of malice. “Don’t you like me?”

The word “like” pierced Zhou Jiayu’s heart. He trembled, whispering, “What… what are you?”

“Me?” the thing smirked, stepping closer, driving Zhou Jiayu into a corner. “I’m the Lin Zhushui you love. Don’t you recognize me?”

Zhou Jiayu shoved his hand into his pocket, ready to grab a talisman. But the fake Lin Zhushui grabbed his wrist, lightning-fast, crushingly strong.

“Ngh…” The grip felt like iron clamps—his shoulder felt like it would shatter. Zhou Jiayu gritted his teeth. “Bullshit! It’s because I like him that I know you’re not him! You think you can imitate him? Look at yourself—you’re not even close!”

The thing’s smile froze.

Zhou Jiayu kept mocking it. He could see Little Paper charging over, rolling up its sleeves, ready to punch this thing flat. Zhou Jiayu knew its strength well—if this thing was human, it’d be out cold after one hit.

But just as Little Paper rushed in, the thing suddenly spun and grabbed Zhou Jiayu, then kicked hard.

Little Paper was sent flying.

“Little Paper!!” Zhou Jiayu shouted, panicked.

“Waaaah—” Little Paper bawled, crying pitifully, “Papa, papa—”

Zhou Jiayu glared at the imposter, gritting his teeth—but their strength wasn’t even close. The thing’s hand crushed his shoulder like iron tongs—he couldn’t move.

“You’re worried about him?” the fake murmured. “You should worry about yourself.” Its dark gaze gleamed wickedly. “Do you really think Lin Zhushui would accept you?”

Zhou Jiayu pressed his lips together, silent.

“Speak.” The thing seized his chin. “If you don’t, I’ll kill your son.”

To see Lin Zhushui’s face wearing such an expression made Zhou Jiayu feel deeply disgusted. He tilted his head and sneered, “Whether he accepts me or not, I like him anyway. What’s it to you?”

“Stubborn mouth,” the thing muttered, letting go of his chin. Zhou Jiayu sighed—but suddenly the thing lifted him again and slammed him hard against the wall. Both his arms were wrenched behind him, tied with something.

“What are you doing?” Zhou Jiayu gasped in shock.

“You’ve always been looking forward to this, haven’t you? Why are you lying to yourself?” the man said softly.

Zhou Jiayu felt his hand pressing against his waist, slowly slipping inside. Startled, he struggled like mad. “Are you insane?! I’m a man!”

“I know that, of course,” he replied, but his hand was already lifting Zhou Jiayu’s shirt.

Zhou Jiayu’s mind went blank in shock. In that instant, he felt something pour out from within his body. Behind him, the man let out a sharp scream and released him. Zhou Jiayu turned around and saw the man drenched in clear water, as if someone had dumped a bucket over him. Beneath Zhou Jiayu’s feet, a thin layer of water spread out, with dark lotus flowers floating on its surface. From beneath the flowers, several small fish darted out and shot toward the man like arrows.

The tiny fish moved swiftly, like sharp darts piercing straight into the man’s body. Although he avoided vital areas, several hit him, drawing bright red blood that pooled on the ground.

Zhou Jiayu didn’t know where his strength came from, but he suddenly rushed forward and kicked the man hard—again and again, without holding back. He didn’t care anymore if he kicked the man to death.

The man resisted at first but soon went limp under Zhou Jiayu’s relentless assault.

When Zhou Jiayu finally calmed down, the little paper figure clung pitifully to his leg, softly calling, “Papa, Papa.” Its body was wet and a bit dirty.

Zhou Jiayu said, “Little Paper, hurry, help Papa untie these ropes.”

The paper figure nodded and carefully untied the ropes binding Zhou Jiayu’s wrists.

Freed, Zhou Jiayu scooped up the little paper man and nudged the soaked body on the ground with his foot to flip it over, wanting to see who this person really was.

But when he turned the man over, he was shocked—the face was swollen and bloated, looking like a long-dead corpse. Moreover, the face bore no resemblance to Lin Zhushui at all—it was an entirely unfamiliar face.

What was this thing? Zhou Jiayu couldn’t figure it out.

The little paper figure nestled in Zhou Jiayu’s arms, carefully touching his wrist, asking softly if it hurt.

Only then did Zhou Jiayu notice the scrapes and torn skin on his wrist from the earlier struggle. The wound looked quite nasty, but he shook his head. “It’s nothing. Doesn’t hurt.”

“Hit him! Hit him!” the little paper man pouted.

“Okay. Hit him,” Zhou Jiayu replied and kicked the corpse again.

Just as he lowered his head to kick, he noticed the shallow puddle of water at his feet start to ripple. The dark fish circled his ankles, gently brushing against his skin as if calling to him.

Zhou Jiayu stared at them, feeling a strange familiarity. Then he suddenly remembered—the fish looked exactly like the tattoo of fish on Lin Zhushui’s lower back, as if they’d leapt off his body.

“Where are you taking me?” Zhou Jiayu asked softly, tentatively following the direction the water was flowing. As expected, the fish swam ahead, occasionally glancing back to make sure he was keeping up.

He followed the stream, noting how the surrounding environment gradually changed. The walls became damp, and fresh air seemed to seep into the tunnel.

At least the oxygen problem was easing. Zhou Jiayu kept walking, and after turning a corner, he saw a giant pit before him. The stream flowed into this massive hole. It was so deep he couldn’t see the bottom. He hesitated, then pulled a kerosene lamp off the wall and tossed it down.

The flickering light illuminated the pit just enough for Zhou Jiayu to see what lay inside.

The pit was filled with countless corpses piled on top of one another. Their twisted, mangled forms bore terrifying expressions—some missing limbs, as if carelessly thrown into this hole.

But Zhou Jiayu noticed something odd—the clothing of these corpses didn’t look modern; they resembled the fashion from the Republic era.

“It hurts… It hurts…” A weak voice rose from the pit. Zhou Jiayu thought he imagined it, but the cries grew louder, impossible to ignore.

“Help… Let me out… Let me out…” Screams and moans echoed as the corpses writhed, their lifeless bodies seemingly regaining movement, struggling to rise, attempting to climb out.

This pit must be tied to that terrible asphyxiation tragedy from the Republic era, when corpses were disposed of so brutally—unclaimed bodies likely tossed here with quicklime dumped over them.

Zhou Jiayu had no idea how many bodies lay below, but the swelling chorus of agony filled the narrow tunnel, echoing everywhere.

Then he noticed the mound of bodies rising, stacking layer upon layer. It wouldn’t be long before they reached the top.

He turned to leave immediately but froze as someone called his name: “Zhou Jiayu.”

He hesitated.

“Zhou Jiayu.” The voice was Lin Zhushui’s, cold and familiar.

Zhou Jiayu’s first thought was that it might be the impostor again, but the voice’s clarity made him pause. He turned back toward the pit.

This time, he saw fire—glorious flames—and in the fire stood Lin Zhushui.

Lin Zhushui stood in the pit, surrounded by bright flames. He tilted his head slightly upward, eyes closed, lips parting gently. “Zhou Jiayu.”

“Sir…” Normally Zhou Jiayu would have rushed over, but after that earlier fake, he hesitated, unsure if this was real.

“Come down,” Lin Zhushui said.

Zhou Jiayu didn’t move, uncertainty in his eyes.

Lin Zhushui seemed to sense his doubt and frowned but said nothing more. He simply waved his hand. Crimson flames spread across the pit.

The crawling corpses were instantly reduced to ash—their suffering finally ended.

It was a beautiful sight. The flames covered the entire pit but gave off no heat—instead, the temperature was strangely comforting for a human.

Lin Zhushui beckoned to him again.

This time Zhou Jiayu didn’t hesitate. He carefully climbed into the pit. But as soon as he stepped in, the flames lifted him gently, carrying him straight to Lin Zhushui’s side.

“Sir,” Zhou Jiayu whispered.

“What did you see?” Lin Zhushui asked.

“Huh?” Zhou Jiayu was puzzled.

“In the tunnel—what did you see?” Lin Zhushui repeated.

Zhou Jiayu thought of the impostor wearing Lin Zhushui’s face and mumbled, “Nothing special…”

His poor lie was immediately obvious, but Lin Zhushui didn’t press him. Instead, he simply said, “Let’s go.”

Before Zhou Jiayu could ask what he meant, Lin Zhushui reached out and tapped his forehead—everything spun. Zhou Jiayu felt like he was being pulled out of water. The world twisted. The pit, the tunnel, the corpses—gone.

When his vision cleared, he found himself sitting at the tunnel’s exit—the modern tunnel, with electric lights overhead. Around him sat Shen Yiqiong, Lin Jue, Yu Xiaomian, Yu He, and beside him, head bowed as if watching him, Lin Zhushui.

“Awake?” Lin Zhushui asked.

“Mm.” Zhou Jiayu sat up. Little Paper jumped with joy, crying, “Papa! Papa!”

“Sir, was it a dream?” Zhou Jiayu asked softly.

“Perhaps,” Lin Zhushui replied.

The overhead lights buzzed gently. The tunnel was quiet, but Zhou Jiayu’s heart was calm.

“Thank you, Sir.” Zhou Jiayu smiled faintly. “Thank you for pulling me out.”

“No,” Lin Zhushui said softly. “You saved yourself.”

Zhou Jiayu looked puzzled.

“What did you see?” Lin Zhushui asked again, as if this question deeply mattered to him.

Zhou Jiayu whispered, “I… I saw you.” As he said this, he noticed a gentle smile curl Lin Zhushui’s lips.

And then Lin Zhushui replied softly, “I saw you, too.”

---

Author’s Note:

Zhou Jiayu: Sir, what version of me did you see?

Lin Zhushui: Hmm…

Zhou Jiayu: ??? Why are you taking off my clothes, Sir?! QAQ