For ten years, only Yang Yan herself knew that she was raising a “son” who had to be kept hidden from the world.
A child of unknown origin had knocked on her door, arriving precisely at the time her real son used to come home from school.
This child knew so many of the private moments and conversations that had taken place between her and her real son.
It was almost as if he had experienced them alongside her.
“The sweet and sour pork ribs Mama makes are the absolute best.”
“Mama, you’re still wearing that bracelet I gave you for your birthday last year.”
“Mama, you promised me that when this winter is over, you’ll take me to the zoo.”
“…”
Yang Yan felt herself going “mad” bit by bit.
She forced herself not to delve into why this strange child knew so many intimate details, or why he appeared at her doorstep at this exact hour. A desperate, rising hope surged from the depths of her heart, swallowing her like an abyss.
Accepting the reality of her son’s death was far too agonizing. Thus, she chose instead to accept something that any normal person would find utterly absurd and bizarre—the belief that after her son died, he had returned to her.
Gradually, she discarded her rational self entirely.
“Oh, Sister Yan,” a neighbor said, pushing open their door and crossing paths with her in the hallway a week after the boy’s arrival. “Our family steamed some cakes, take some to eat. The dead cannot be brought back to life; you still have to carry on with your days…”
Yang Yan’s pupils dilated wider than usual as she stared unblinkingly at the neighbor, her eyes appearing somewhat terrifying: “What nonsense are you talking about?! My son is at home. He is clearly perfectly fine.”
The neighbor was stunned into silence: “Wasn’t your son…”
Yang Yan spoke, pronouncing each word deliberately: “My son has already come back.”
“He has already come back,” Yang Yan repeated. “He is right at home.”
She secretly kept this child of unknown origin in her house.
At night, the boy lay on the bed she had made for him. Those eyes—which seemed to harbor an unspeakable malice whenever he stared directly at someone—gazed straight at her. The boy was running a slight fever, and he spoke in a hoarse voice: “Mama, every time I had a fever before, you would sing to me.”
“Yes, you’ve been crying and making a fuss whenever you run a fever since you were little,” Yang Yan murmured. In her eyes, the boy’s face gradually overlapped with the face in her memories. “You would only quiet down when you heard me sing.”
The child insisted tenaciously: “I have a fever now, too.”
Yang Yan: “Close your eyes, then. Mama will sing to you.”
Those sharp, fierce eyes slowly shut.
Yang Yan softly hummed a song, using her familiar native dialect: “Sleep, sleep, my most beloved baby…”
We lived together like this for ten years. Throughout these ten years, he grew up following the trajectory of my other child. The clothes I bought for him were always in the colors my son liked. Every day, I cooked the dishes my son loved to eat. When it was time for my son to attend high school, I bought him high school study materials, and every day he would ‘obediently’ complete the assignments I arranged.
But subconsciously, I still vaguely knew that he was different from my child. My child was kind, proactive, and optimistic—whereas he… at times, he was like a demon.
That day, the neighbor’s dog went missing.
When Yang Yan returned from buying groceries, she saw the neighbor anxiously searching for the dog everywhere: “Have you seen Duo Duo?”
Yang Yan shook her head.
Once she pulled out her keys, opened her front door, set down her basket of groceries, and walked into the kitchen to wash the vegetables, she smelled a very distinct, metallic scent of blood.
But she hadn’t bought any meat.
Following the scent of blood, Yang Yan located a black plastic bag in the trash can. She opened the bag—and saw a clump of blood-soaked black fur. It was the Shetland Sheepdog named Duo Duo. Outside her door, the neighbor was still searching for it, yet here it was, chopped into pieces, sitting in her kitchen trash.
A voice suddenly came from behind her: “Mama, you’re back.”
Yang Yan’s hand shook, and a piece of the butchered meat from the black plastic bag tumbled onto the tile floor.
The boy looked at the black bag in her hand with complete indifference: “I was doing my homework at home today, and it was so noisy, barking at the door nonstop.”
She couldn’t deny that this was her son.
She had to carry on with the illusion that her son was still living by her side in order to survive.
Even if the one who returned was a demon, she accepted him.
“It was too noisy and disrupted your homework,” Yang Yan’s pale hand reached down to pick up the butchered meat, stuffing it back into the black plastic bag. “It’s fine. Mama will handle it. Go back and do your homework.”
The hand Chi Qing laid gently on Yang Yan’s was very cold. Yang Yan was rarely in a clear state of mind. She noticed that the man in front of her possessed a pair of dark eyes just like that boy’s, except the gaze of the man before her carried a heavier sense of exhaustion, looking languid as if he hadn’t slept well in a long time.
If a normal person heard such a secret, their spine would feel cold to some degree, and it would be difficult to face Yang Yan as if nothing had happened. But Chi Qing behaved as if he hadn’t heard anything. It wasn’t because his acting was superb; he truly felt nothing.
His only thought was that both of these people were highly abnormal.
“I have no right to comment on the matters between you and your son, but right now, the exact same thing that happened ten years ago is taking place inside this amusement park,” Chi Qing said finally. “Many families will lose their children just like you did. Many children, just like your son… will be left behind in this winter.”
“Waaah—!!!”
The moment the child was pushed away from Z’s grip, his first reaction was to bawl. All his fear and panic exploded at this very second.
“Waaah, waaah—”
The child was out of danger, but everyone knew the crisis had not lessened in the slightest. Because the hostages had been exchanged, Yang Yan was now in Z’s hands.
Chi Qing and Yang Yan had agreed that she must prioritize her safety, yet she had chosen to walk straight into danger.
No one had expected her to truly strike Z’s Achilles’ heel.
“Yang Yan is in a highly dangerous position right now,” Xie Lin said.
The very next second after Xie Lin’s words fell, Z clamped both of his hands violently around Yang Yan’s neck, as if seeking to vent his fury at being toyed with just now: “You lied to me—!!!”
Initially, Yang Yan could still manage a few weak coughs, but after a few seconds, she couldn’t even make a coughing sound. Her face gradually turned a bruised, purple-blue color: “…I…”
Z gritted his teeth, his voice filled with hatred: “You’ve been lying to me… this whole time—!!!”
“She was never your mother in the first place,” Chi Qing said, having followed Ji Mingrui inside earlier. “No one lied to you. You’ve just been lying to yourself this entire time.”
Z suddenly whipped his head up to glare at Chi Qing: “What did you say?”
Chi Qing: “She was never your mother.”
While speaking, Xie Lin suddenly glanced up at the support beam holding up the ceiling. Noting his movement, Chi Qing silently reached out and brushed his fingers against the back of Xie Lin’s hand.
[The amusement park was built a long time ago and has been abandoned for years without maintenance. The light bulb has been swaying, meaning the support beam suspending it must be unstable… His current emotional instability is a good thing for us; this might be our best opportunity.]
[Being emotionally unstable means he can still be affected because of Yang Yan. Once a person is affected, their attention is easily divided.]
CRASH—!
In the next second, the support beam snapped. The sudden event occurred in an instant, and Xie Lin, the initiator, reacted the fastest. He lunged forward in a single stride. Simultaneously, Z took a step back to dodge the falling half-length timber. Just as he avoided it, he was pinned directly to the ground by Xie Lin in the very next second.
At the same time, Chi Qing and Ji Mingrui shielded Yang Yan between them. The woman was verging on unconsciousness, her breathing incredibly weak.
Creak—
Because the nails on the other half of the broken beam were secured tightly, it had only dropped halfway, with one end still clinging to the ceiling, dangling precariously.
That half-beam could fall at any moment.
Z and Xie Lin locked each other in a struggle. If the beam fell, it would inevitably strike one of them. Several long, sharp nails were embedded in the wood, their pointed tips aiming directly downward at them. Both men took turns exerting force, trying to maneuver themselves out of the danger zone.
Within a mere ten seconds, the beam dropped further, leaving only a tiny point of contact with the ceiling.
Xie Lin propped his wrist against the ground and flipped his body over, leaving Z’s back directly exposed to the falling beam.
The beam crashed down, kicking up a thick cloud of dust. Everyone’s vision was temporarily obscured by gray haze. Once the dust settled, the two men were seen lying on opposite sides of the fallen beam. Other than a scrape on Xie Lin’s wrist, no one was injured.
Logically speaking, Xie Lin had held the advantageous position just now; even if someone were to get hurt, it should have been Z.
Z knew he no longer held any leverage to threaten them. Lying on the ground, he stared straight up at the ruined ceiling, just as bewildered as anyone else. He coughed up a few mouthfuls of bloody water: “…Why did you save me?”
Xie Lin rose to his feet, supporting himself on one knee. At the same time, receiving precise orders, the criminal police officers instantly burst through the door. In seconds, they formed a tight perimeter around Z, with countless black gun barrels trained directly on him.
A few seconds ago.
Z had possessed no time to dodge. With his back to the ceiling, he hadn’t been able to see the speed of the falling beam, only sensing a howling downward wind about to crush him through his sharp sixth sense.
He had been pushed out of the way by Xie Lin.
As Xie Lin retracted his hand, the edge of the timber had scraped along his arm.
“Because not everyone is like you.”
“I do not have the right to personally dispose of anyone’s life,” Xie Lin said. “How you are dealt with will be fairly and justly decided by the law.”
Z suddenly laughed: “Why was I the only one who turned out like this?”
“Ten years ago, everyone participated in that game. Why was I the only one who turned out like this?”
“On what grounds was I the only one dragged into the dark?”
No one answered his question.
Lying on the ground, Z blinked and slowly recounted what he had experienced ten years ago.
Ten years ago, after that creepy man’s smiling face appeared at the entrance of the slide, his life began to warp.
The man had originally intended to kill him to practice his methods, but he hadn’t expected this child to have the courage to snatch the knife from his hands.
A child raised in an orphanage was like wild grass.
The man had assumed a child of this age would weep and beg for mercy, shivering like a helpless animal abandoned on the street—but the sheer desire to survive instantly conquered all of Z’s fear. He had lunged straight forward, biting down on the man’s hand with vicious force, as if trying to tear the flesh right off.
Clearly unprepared for such a turn of events, the man cried out in pain and dropped the knife. Z scrambled to grab it, pointing the blade at the man while remaining curled up at the slide’s opening like a beast in its cave: “Don’t come near me.”
“What can you do if I come over? Do you even dare to use that knife?”
“…”
Facing the stranger who kept pressing closer, Z thrust the blade forward, plunging it solidly into the man’s chest.
He dared.
The man changed his mind.
He suddenly found this child rather interesting.
No matter how much strength a child possessed, it was no match for an adult, and Z was eventually dragged out of the slide by the man.
“If you want to kill someone,” the man whispered close to Z’s ear, pointing to the location of his own heart, “you should aim a bit more this way next time.”
“…”
“I won’t kill you anymore.”
The man said finally, “But you have to come back with me.”
At that time, Z had no idea that this man would become a criminal who would shock the entire city three months later. Having no other choice back then, he was forcibly taken back to the house and locked in a room, kept like a pet.
Every day, he huddled in a corner, watching the man scribble on the white walls, which were plastered with news articles clipped from newspapers. He saw many different names, as well as the names of various middle school competition awards.
The man would often say bizarre things to him, and occasionally, when in a good mood, he would bring him some food.
“A kid’s meal. This comes with a toy, take it and play.” The man tossed a bag over to him.
The toy inside the meal was a red toy car. Z held it blankly in his hands, a strange emotion suddenly welling up in his heart.
The very first gift he had ever received in his life was given to him by the psychopath who imprisoned him.
Gradually, Z began to speak to the man.
Perhaps it was because of that toy car, or perhaps because being locked in a sealed space for months left him with only this man to interact with.
The man chose a new child to practice on. Z had seen this child before; he lived in the same building and had knocked on their door to borrow a tape measure. Killing this child was highly risky, but there was no choice—the boy was simply unlucky. When he came to borrow the tape measure, he had spotted Z imprisoned there.
The next night, a boy’s corpse appeared in the small room where Z stayed.
The boy had died a horrific death, with a long, deep gash sliced from his throat down to his chest, his internal organs faintly visible.
The man packed the boy into a black suitcase and dragged it out the door.
“Aren’t you coming back tonight?”
“No. I have to dispose of the body.”
“…”
“I left food by the door.”
“…”
“What are you looking at me for? Is there anything you want me to bring back?”
“Kid…” Z spoke with great difficulty, his voice tiny, “…the kid’s meal. The same one from last time.”
His life had shifted completely.
Three months later, the game began.
He was different from all the other children who had been forced to participate. While those children were either knocked unconscious or blindfolded and locked in different rooms, crying and begging to go home, he stood at the very end of the hallway, standing right beside that man.
In the pitch-black hallway, he and that man stood together—one tall, one short—surrounded by the endless sounds of children weeping from both sides of the corridor.
Aside from that man, no one else knew of his existence.
Once they had captured enough children, the man unlocked one of the doors. There was already a child inside, who had been knocked out and tossed onto the floor. At that time, Z was small, short, and thin. He walked down the corridor, step by step, and entered that room on his own.
Before the man closed the door, he said to him: “I only need one child. Will you survive until the end?”
Just like their first encounter three months prior, Z pulled his knees to his chest, adopting a curled, terrified posture. Maintaining this pose, he looked up at the man outside the door.
Thud.
The door was shut, and the entire room was swallowed by a darkness that allowed not a single shred of light to enter.
—“I only need one child. Will you survive until the end?”
Z curled up in that darkness for a very long time, staring unblinkingly at the other child in the room during this interval. Eventually, the boy who had been knocked unconscious woke up. The boy was about the same age as him, but his build was vastly different; the two shared absolutely no similarities from any aspect.
The boy had a round face, a chubby build, and double eyelids.
Upon waking, the boy was filled with terror: “Where is this place…”
Z watched him. The darkness served as an excellent camouflage, preventing the boy from seeing his snake-like eyes. Z replied, “I don’t know.”
The boy: “Were you kidnapped too?”
Z: “Yeah.”
Since there was little difference in their ages, and children of that age didn’t harbor deep suspicions, the boy clearly relaxed a bit upon learning he had a companion.
“Which school do you go to?”
Z fabricated one on the spot: “Experimental Middle School.”
The two chatted idly back and forth.
Soon, they ran out of topics.
The boy fell into silence, fear creeping back in: “Will anyone come to save us? We’ll go home, right?”
Z said nothing.
“Home” was undoubtedly the single word that brought the greatest sense of security.
Everyone here wanted to go home, but Z knew that he didn’t have a home at all.
In all his years of growing up, the closest thing to the concept of “home” was actually that locked room with chains where he had been kept for three months, and that red toy car that came with the meal.
Upon mentioning “home,” the boy seemed to open a floodgate of words.
To suppress the suffocating fear rising in his chest, the boy began to frequently talk about his own “home.”
“My mama is waiting for me to go back,” the boy said. “We got our report cards today. I ranked second in the entire school. She’ll be so happy when she finds out.”
“You know, the sweet and sour pork ribs my mama makes are incredibly delicious.”
“I love my mama’s sweet and sour pork ribs the most.”
“…”
So annoying, Z thought.
He didn’t want to hear it at all.
Z refused to admit that this feeling resembled never having tasted candy in your life, while someone beside you kept telling you how much candy they had, and how sweet their candy was. He would never admit to feeling that way. He told himself: it was simply because the boy talked too much.
For a brief moment, he harbored the urge to kill this person right then and there.
If only he could make him shut up.
Yet as the days passed, Z found himself wishing at times that the boy would tell him more stories about his mother.
Because such stories had never existed in his own life.
The boy occasionally noticed that his roommate had a rather peculiar temper; sometimes he looked as though he didn’t want to listen at all, but when the boy actually shut his mouth and spoke less, the other would suddenly throw out a sentence or two to restart the topic out of nowhere.
“You mentioned yesterday that you were saving your allowance,” Z said, pursing his lips and speaking in a low voice. “What did you end up buying?”
That had been yesterday’s topic. Yesterday, the boy had rambled on: “I saved my allowance for a whole year to buy my mama a birthday gift—”
The boy had a very good personality and didn’t mind Z’s sudden cold shoulder from the day before. Thinking of his mother, he smiled slightly, revealing two shallow dimples on his face: “I bought a silver bracelet, and she loved it… When I make money in the future, I’ll buy her an even prettier one!”
After a moment, the boy spoke again:
“Do you like zoos? I really want to go to the zoo. When winter is over, my mama is going to take me to the zoo… This winter is really so cold, when will it be over?”
Thus, Z learned many things about him and his mother.
Because they were short of one child, the start of the game did not run according to the time they were locked up.
When the game officially commenced, on the very first day—while everyone was still processing what “that man” had said and before anyone could make a move—Z’s hands clamped around the boy’s neck. His hands tightened continuously. It was the first time the two had ever been so close, and only then did the boy see his roommate’s eyes clearly—they were a pair of eyes unlike those of a normal person, cold and snake-like, staring straight at him.
Soon, the boy’s round eyes were no longer endearing. His eyeballs protruded, his face contorted in agony, and his legs kicked wildly against the floor.
Before dying, the last thing the boy heard was: “I want to live, so you go to die.”
Z looked toward Yang Yan. The woman was still unconscious. His gaze traced her face, inch by inch: “So, she never knew… the reason I knew the details of her and her son’s life so clearly… was because her son and I were locked in the same room back then. And I was the one who killed her son.”
No one had expected the story between Z and this “mother” to be like this.
Z retracted his gaze and looked back at Xie Lin: “Your brother was very smart. Halfway through the game, he tracked me down. He suspected that the missing persons list was incomplete, which led him to the orphanage. My connection to that man was too close; initially, we wanted to eliminate him because finding me would easily lead to finding that man. Later, ‘that man’ knew he couldn’t escape, but he wanted to protect me—as long as I lived, he lived… so your brother had to die.”
At that time, they only knew that Xie Feng had visited the orphanage, but they didn’t know that the “three-month” timeline had misled him. Xie Feng believed that even if there were other victims, the three-month gap couldn’t be explained, and the correlation was very low.
Furthermore, through subsequent inquiries, Xie Feng learned that this missing orphan was extremely antisocial and unpopular. Neither the teachers nor the other children showed any sadness; they all assumed the child had chosen to run away on his own since he never wanted to stay at the orphanage anyway. Consequently, Xie Feng had ultimately torn up the draft paper with the orphanage written on it.
That explosion had taken care of Xie Feng and granted Z the time to flee.
He wasn’t actually a kidnapped child; from the very beginning, he had been highly familiar with the layout of the facility, knowing several hidden exits. He had escaped amid the chaos, leaving the wailing sirens, police cars, and murmuring crowds far behind.
But he had no idea where to go. He had somehow wandered back to the amusement park where it all began. Knowing that ‘that man’ had been arrested, he huddled at the entrance of the slide for a very long time, his body covered in dried mud and blood.
Where was he supposed to go?
He stayed in the amusement park for several days.
During the day, he rummaged through trash cans for food discarded by tourists. At night, he slept inside the slide.
Until the evening of the tenth day, when several children finished their classes. Carrying their backpacks and holding fried skewers bought from a street vendor outside their school gates, they walked past the amusement park, chatting and laughing.
Z was inexplicably reminded of that round face.
And the words that round-faced boy had said: “My mama is waiting for me to go back…”
And so, on the tenth day, at exactly 6:40 PM.
Like a phantom crawling out of hell, he stood before that apartment door.
Knock, knock.
“…”
“Mama, I’m home.”
