Jiang Du never imagined that even after changing his appearance, he would still be dragged into this fog-shrouded town, let alone that the residents had recognized him all along.
He had clung to the belief that finding the key would make him the lucky one to escape this place, and it was this hope that had driven him this far. But when he finally obtained the key and stepped through the villa’s gates, the sight before him was nothing like what he had envisioned.
Jiang Du still tried to argue, "What are you talking about? What mother? I don’t understand. According to the rules of your game, I found the key, I stepped into the villa—I should be allowed to leave this town."
The mayor chuckled amiably, "Did we ever say such a thing?"
Jiang Du’s composure finally cracked. "Are you going back on your word now?"
The mayor, leisurely eating a red ice cream he had produced from nowhere, seemed in high spirits. "Mr. Jiang, what gave you the illusion that monsters would keep their promises?"
Jiang Du’s face turned deathly pale.
It dawned on him then—these monsters had never intended to let him leave alive. They had been toying with him like a circus animal, waiting for the moment he glimpsed hope before crushing it.
Realizing he had to run, Jiang Du spun around—only to find the doors tightly shut behind him.
The residents crowding the room gradually shed their human disguises, revealing their most grotesque forms. Their faces stretched into wide, gleeful grins as they closed in on him step by step.
Jiang Du knew he was doomed.
As blood splattered across the portrait of a loving mother and child hanging on the wall, the lingering black fog over the town seemed to thin. Perhaps this damp, shadowy place would no longer be plagued by such frequent rain.
Wen Sisi had no idea what had happened. Overnight, the townspeople seemed to have vanished, leaving the streets eerily empty and desolate. To make matters worse, she was lost.
Luckily, she ran into a familiar-looking man who offered to guide her back to the inn.
But it was late at night, and Wen Sisi remained wary. If this man made any suspicious moves, she was ready to bolt.
"Today’s a special occasion in town. Everyone’s gone to attend the festivities, so the streets are empty," he explained.
"Oh," Wen Sisi replied dismissively.
Fang Min glanced at her. Perhaps out of boredom, he felt a strange urge to tease her. With a faint smile, he asked, "You remember the rule about not opening a red door if you see one in your dreams, right?"
Wen Sisi nodded. "I remember."
"But do you know why you shouldn’t open it?"
"Why?"
Fang Min grinned. "Because behind that door lies the way out."
Her heart skipped a beat. A flicker of excitement rose—but was quickly replaced by suspicion.
Fang Min chuckled. "Ah, just kidding. But who knows if I’m telling the truth? Isn’t that intriguing?"
Wen Sisi’s eye twitched, her fists clenching.
Xia Miao quietly burned the notebook and never spoke of it again. At the crack of dawn, she urged E Gui to pack his things—they had to leave before the children woke up.
The last time she had mentioned taking leave to return home for a wedding, the kids had clamored outside her office, blocking her exit—a stark contrast to their usual eagerness to be rid of her.
"Teacher, you can’t leave yet!"
"You have to give us an exam!"
"Yeah! You need to test us one more time before you go!"
"We’ve been studying hard just for the next test!"
"How can you leave now?"
Xia Miao had been touched by their sudden enthusiasm—until she heard their real motive:
"This time, we’ll definitely outscore Fang Xiaogui! The class monitor position should be ours!"
So their "love for learning" was just a competition for power. In a way, their rivalry meant her teaching had succeeded.
Not wanting to endure another headache-inducing blockade, Xia Miao wisely dragged E Gui out at daybreak.
But things didn’t go as planned. She had expected the streets to be empty, but instead, townsfolk marched in groups, as if returning from a gathering.
Peeking from behind a lamppost, Xia Miao muttered, "This is bad."
A second head popped up above hers. "Bad. This is."
She looked up at him. "What do we do?"
E Gui pondered. "We. Take. Path."
"You know another way?"
He nodded, his tied-back black hair framing his fair, refreshingly clear face. Eyes crinkling, he took her hand.
Xia Miao whispered, "Then lead the way."
Hand in hand, they hunched low, darting through bushes like mischievous schoolchildren sneaking off to cause trouble.
E Gui’s shortcut led through a sea of white roses. Xia Miao had never seen so many—endless stretches of white that should have felt pure, but instead radiated a lifeless desolation.
When they reached a clearing, even E Gui hesitated, unsure of the way forward.
Kicking aside weeds, he revealed faint black trails on the ground—tiny, crawling marks, as if countless abandoned children had once dragged their decaying bodies through the flowers, searching for an exit. Over time, their fallen flesh had seeped into the soil, staining it a black no rain could wash away.
"Miao Miao. Here." E Gui found the path again, his eyes sparkling as he squeezed her hand.
He seemed delighted by these guiding marks, as if he’d forgotten that he, too, might have once been one of those lost souls.
E Gui walked ahead, light-footed, but Xia Miao couldn’t bring herself to tread on those harrowing traces.
Her gaze followed the trail into the distance, where it vanished into the mist-shrouded horizon. This dreamlike flower field reeked of cruelty and decay.
Suddenly, E Gui felt Xia Miao’s grip tighten.
She quickened her pace, pulling ahead until she was the one leading him forward.
E Gui blinked, confused.
At last, they reached the edge of the rose sea, where a wall of fog divided two worlds.
Xia Miao turned abruptly. "E Gui, let’s run!"
He blinked again, still a little slow to react.
But Xia Miao gave him no time to hesitate—her words weren’t a request but a declaration. She tugged him forward, starting at a jog before their pace quickened, as if her energy had infected E Gui.
The wind tousled her long hair, the strands occasionally brushing against him, tickling his skin.
They ran wildly ahead, trampling delicate white roses underfoot. The fallen petals slowly buried the dark traces on the ground, replaced by crushed, mud-like remnants of blossoms.
E Gui felt something strange—like he’d become a child allowed to wreak havoc without consequence. This exhilaration surpassed even the thrill of sneaking out in a yellow raincoat on stormy nights.
Gradually, a giggle escaped him—"Hehehe."
The mist parted willingly, inviting them into a sunlit warmth.
They found themselves on a hillside path, shaded by lush trees, dappled sunlight dancing around them. In the distance, scattered houses nestled into the landscape.
When they glanced back, the mist had closed again, obscuring the ruined sea of flowers behind them.
E Gui had never felt so alive. Still panting, he refused to let go of Xia Miao’s hand.
"Miao Miao, again," he pleaded, eager to keep running—until his expression twisted. That nauseating sensation returned.
Xia Miao pulled out her pink water bottle and made him sip warm water. After a moment, he steadied.
She said, "After the baby’s born, I’ll play with you again. For now, we have the most important thing to do!"
The most important thing—what was it?
Obediently, he let her lead him forward, his gaze fixed on her head. The warmth in his chest lingered, unfamiliar yet persistent.
At the end of the hillside path stood a bus stop, where only the No. 44 route passed. Its final destination was their home.
Suddenly, he understood. The most important thing—was going home.
E Gui tightened his grip on Xia Miao’s hand, interlacing their fingers.
She looked up at him.
Pressing his lips together, he whispered, "Miao Miao, come home with me."
Xia Miao beamed. "Yes, let’s go home together. Hurry, okay?"
E Gui’s lips quivered into an unsteady but earnest smile. His voice shook, yet for once, it wasn’t hesitant—just one clear word: "Okay."
