In the tiny screening room, the dim light was barely illuminated by the flickering glow of an old television. The grainy footage from the VHS tape, paired with the eerie background music, sent chills down everyone's spine.
A young couple sat squeezed together on a small sofa, their eyes glued to the screen.
A chainsaw-wielding maniac hacked his victims apart one by one, laughing maniacally. The gruesome, blood-soaked scenes were both horrifying and nauseating.
When the killer suddenly dragged a hidden victim out from the corner, screams blended with the soundtrack, torturing the viewers' ears and nerves.
As blood splattered across the screen, Xia Miao instinctively leaned closer to Lu Yan.
A few drip-drop sounds echoed—blood from the screen seemed to spill onto the floor. At the same time, the masked killer turned toward the camera. His white mask revealed only two beady eyes, and his towering figure inched closer, as if he might step out of the television at any moment.
A cold gust swept through the room, and Xia Miao sneezed, covering her mouth.
"I'm cold," she said.
Lu Yan, slumped lazily on the sofa, barely awake, scoffed. "Serves you right for dressing so lightly. Good thing I wore more—I’m not cold at all."
Xia Miao pressed her lips together, waiting for some warmth from him, but he just reclined fully against the backrest, head drooping, already asleep.
To Lu Yan, this movie was unbearably dull, lulling him straight into slumber.
On screen, the chainsaw killer drew nearer, his footsteps heavy, the roar of his weapon growing louder.
The room grew colder.
Xia Miao studied the dozing boy for a moment, then lifted the hem of his hoodie.
He was much taller than her, and his oversized sweatshirt had plenty of room. She slipped inside effortlessly.
Lu Yan stirred, groggily opening his eyes—only to find half of Xia Miao’s body nestled against his bare skin under his hoodie. The contact jolted him awake.
"What the hell are you doing?!"
"I’m cold!" Xia Miao curled up in his lap, her head poking out from his collar. Her expression was blank, as if this were the most natural thing in the world. "You’re warm. Feels nice."
Lu Yan’s face burned crimson, his entire body scorching.
Under that hoodie, he wasn’t wearing a damn thing!
Her wriggling against him was pure torture.
"Get out!"
"No."
He tried to yank her free, but his hands betrayed him, pulling her tighter instead.
Xia Miao tilted her head up and kissed his jaw. "Ten points."
Lu Yan stared at the ceiling, his dead-fish eyes brimming with an unreadable mix of frustration and excitement. The bandages on his face emitted faint black smoke, his arms trembling around her. The veins in his hands bulged darkly, his fingers cracking with tension.
On screen, the chainsaw killer froze mid-step.
Xia Miao sighed contentedly, snuggling deeper into his warmth. "Kiss me again."
Lu Yan stiffened, refusing to obey like some trained dog—but his throat bobbed, resolve crumbling. He cupped her face and planted a flurry of quick, noisy kisses on the corner of her mouth.
Like a pecking chick.
Clang!
The chainsaw slipped from the killer’s grip, severing his own foot in a gory mess. He howled in delayed agony, clutching his stump.
---
Ruan Zhizhi followed Leng Yeting into the cluttered cafeteria kitchen, her breath shallow with fear.
Rumors said the conjoined twins haunted this place—and of course, their bad luck had them drawing the dare to steal the twins’ favorite kitchen knife.
Leng Yeting, who usually mocked Ruan Zhizhi relentlessly, now exuded an unexpected protectiveness. "Stay close. Don’t be scared."
Her heart skipped—damn, he looks good—but she quickly scolded herself. No! Don’t fall for his act!
Shadows moved in the kitchen. They weren’t the only ones sent here on a reckless mission.
A row of gleaming knives hung on the wall, their edges radiating menace.
Leng Yeting whispered, "Hide here. I’ll grab it."
Ruan Zhizhi crouched behind the counter, nodding with a soft "Mm."
As Leng Yeting crept forward, others grew bold and followed. He ignored them, snatching the center knife.
Thud!
A scrawny figure dropped from the ceiling. Leng Yeting yanked a bystander in front of him just as the thing latched onto the man’s head, claws out, cackling.
"Thief! Caught you!"
The man’s face was shredded in seconds, his screams sending the others fleeing.
The smaller twin threw back his head and shrieked. Heavy footsteps answered—his brother was coming.
"Run!" Leng Yeting hauled Ruan Zhizhi up, dragging her out.
Her body locked up, replaying how effortlessly he’d used someone as a shield. If danger strikes again… and I’m right beside him… what then?
The smaller twin burrowed into his brother’s chest cavity. Merged, they moved faster, dismembering victims in leaps.
Even in pitch darkness, they never missed a target—hiding was futile.
Leng Yeting guessed they tracked by scent. He pulled Ruan Zhizhi into a reeking garbage pit, the stench masking their presence.
The blood-drenched twins prowled nearby but passed them by.
Once they were gone, Ruan Zhizhi stumbled out, retching against a tree.
Leng Yeting steadied her. "You okay?"
The knife in his hand glinted coldly. She flinched, stepping back.
The smaller twin whined, "Boring! No more prey?"
His brother sniffed. "No… I smell fresh meat."
They climbed up to the abandoned laboratory building, slipped into the hallway through a fourth-floor window, and ran all the way to the very end. At the door of the screening room, two pairs of eyes pressed against it, peering through the crack to witness something utterly bizarre.
Xia Miao nestled inside Lu Yan’s coat, curled up in his embrace, her body held tightly by his arms. The two were pressed so close together that their boundaries seemed to blur.
The television played a horror movie, yet both of them had their eyes closed—somehow, they had fallen asleep!
The conjoined twins blinked.
The younger brother said, "A little jealous, aren’t we?"
The elder brother replied, "He must be feeling pretty smug."
In unison, they whispered, "Let’s stir up some trouble."
In the cramped room, the TV screen flickered. After a burst of static, the image on the screen changed.
Inside a steel cage, a child no older than two or three, dressed in white, lay on the ground. His skin was mottled with bruises and festering wounds—so vivid it was as if the stench of decay could seep through the screen.
His limbs were limp, his head barely covered by a few strands of withered yellow hair. His eyes were clouded, lifeless.
"Hungry… so hungry…" His mouth opened, revealing a handful of remaining teeth—sharp, like a beast’s. Trembling, he reached toward the bars and whimpered, "Hungry… hungry… so hungry…"
Xia Miao had been in a light sleep. Hearing the strange voice, her eyes snapped open.
In the next instant, a knife flew across the room, embedding itself in the TV screen. A few sparks flared, and then the screen went black—completely dead.
Xia Miao lifted her face.
The boy’s eyes were cold, just like his body, now devoid of its usual burning warmth.
