Chapter Text
Oddly enough, this wasn't the first time that Shen Yuan had found himself in his room facedown in a puddle of his own vomit. Thankfully, the piles of clothes that had accumulated on the floor from 3 a.m. impulse purchases broke his fall —and mostly sopped the spit up.
The assorted fragrances of (expired) Chobani and stale merch made his stomach churn. With that thought, Shen Yuan lifted himself off the ground using his bedpost as support. The defiled t-shirt glared at him in disgust.
Any inkling of guilt for ruining a perfectly good shirt– well as much as a spoiled rich kid could have felt anyway– was quickly snuffed out when he saw a pair of emerald eyes looking back at him.
Oh. It was that one.
“Hah---" he scoffed. "get fucked.”
He had in the few weeks prior ordered a Liu Mingyan sweater (beautiful, elegant, #1 wife) but instead in a shipment mixup received two T-shirts with the visage of one Shen Qingqiu (predatory, evil, bastardous).
He was still trying to wrap his head around the fact that someone added not just one but two shen Qingqiu merch items into their cart, filled out their payment information and hit complete purchase. That wasn’t just one fuck-up --- that was a series of several fuck-ups that lead to an overall poor life decision.
Meanwhile, Liu Mingyan was out there somewhere in the hands of some no-good fujoshi. Most likely she was still helplessly bound in the same plastic wrap she was sent in. Someone with bad taste could never understand the elegance and charm that Liu Mingyan brought to the harem dynamic. She was the cool-headed voice of reason in whatever jealous wife plot Luo Binghe’s harem had concocted that update.
She usually rangled the girls into a semblance of peace before Luo Binghe was able to address it with his usual method of Papapa. They made an absolute team. It was almost like a WWE Wrestler tag team except the finishing move was Luo Binghe’s heavenly pillar body slamming into wife #349 or #443—depending on the week.
He was originally tempted to buy the Ning YingYing shirt as well, especially when it came in his signature color of soft green. Unfortunately, he has complex feelings about her. He did like the childhood friends to lovers trope. She was even the first friend that Luo Binghe had ever made, but her personality and description reminded him too much of his little sister for her to snag the #1 spot in his heart. Especially since she hadn’t grown out of her elaborate hair-braiding phase. He made sure to skip those papapa chapters----it was a close call.
But, had he decided to put those feelings aside, Liu Mingyan wouldn’t have been lonely in the plastic prison she found herself in. Worst of all, the rest of her days would be spent with some no-good, dead dove reading, villain pining, abuse sympathizer as her warden--- and Liu Mingyan deserved better than that.
With a huff, Shen Yuan swiped the shirt’s twin who sought asylum between the crag of his nightstand and bedpost. He used it as a protective barrier to scoop the sullied merch and tossed the abomination into the small garbage bin that lived in the corner of his room.
A fitting end
With a smack of his lips and the after-taste of Chobani®, he made his way to the bathroom to wash out the remainder of the compromised product that nearly led to his death.
Okay, he was being dramatic. It had at most turned into some non-FDA-approved sour cream, but that would have been a stupid way to go out. He would have swan dove into hell in perfect Olympic form had it meant he would be spared the disappointed scowl his oldest brother made once he discovered the fallen corpse of his loser sibling.
It would be an open-and-shut case as his assailant sat only inches away, positioned beside him, double-lover suicide style. Clasped in his hand was a half-empty plastic container of yogurt whose contents were scarfed down his windpipe. Of which Shen Yuan had failed to realize amid rage quitting was -- suspiciously warm.
It was almost funny, if the yogurt were to claim his life, his brother would have been fucking livid. Da-ge had put in a lot of time and energy perfecting his technique of nagging his litte brother. He may have even thought this year was the one where Shen Yuan would finally become a respectable memeber of society. And because of a faded expiration date his effort would have all been for naught.
But the yogurt couldn't shoulder all the blame, he may have passed judgment too soon. The real murderer would have been the hack of a writer Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky. A crime to be added to the heavy list of charges against him.
Shen yuan had not recovered from the final update of PIDW. His life would continue on but the novel was a thing of the past. There was a hole in the pit of his stomach that the news had left and it now filled with anger.
There were genuine nuggets of promise if one were to pan out the rest of the garbage. But one would sooner develop carpal tunnel syndrome from shaking the damn pan before striking gold. The reader would first have to ignore the glaring plot holes that came up every few chapters or so.
And the fact that all the important characters had the tendency of losing all IQ points when in the presence of the protagonist. It was as if his heavenly pillar was a shiny hypnotic beacon that distracted moths from all reason. No wife #687! Don't get too close to that glowing scepter -- gah! Lost another one.
It almost made him want to storm out of his house and snap the ramen noodle of a neck that bastard undeniably had. Almost.
In an attempt to calm himself, he swiped a bottle of sparkling Perrier that had sat on top of his dresser for an indeterminate amount of time. The droplets of condensation that stuck to the top half shook in fear as he gripped the bottle. The plastic had whined and creaked under his grasp. It begged for the sweet release of death. With a swig, he downed the flat water that had long lost its carbon. Feeling refreshed, he headed for the windows before the stench of vomit could settle into his room.
This family was, for lack of a better term, stupidly rich. His room was quite sizable and was cursed with his worst enemy — natural lighting. As much as one could get in a penthouse apartment on a luxury high-rise. Luckily, like with most of his problems, it could be solved with the ridiculous amount of cash his family threw at him at the beginning of every month.
The entire wall was more so a giant plane of glass that was quartered off with squares of those German "tilt and turn" style windows.
The few lucky souls who had the privilege to pass his bedroom’s threshold (debatable) wouldn’t have known that at first glance. The windows were completely blocked by High-grade European Motorized Rolling Shutters. They were best that money could buy--- and worked a little too well. The few times he had to open the shutters, it left his eyes cooked to a crisp.
Shen Yuan's eyes had braced for the onslaught of the sun's rays which never came. When they opened, he realized that it was late afternoon. The sky had retained a tinge of blue and the tops of homes and businesses spread before him in a tolerable amount of light.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw one of the rooftops featured a shameless and very vivacious couple going at it on a patio lounge chair. Not even some whisper of a blanket to be seen. The stranger just bared his man-ass to the world.
This wasn’t an unfamiliar sight. His eyes were desecrated years ago by a similar scene and ergo – the shutters.
People were really shameless when they assumed no one could see them. If he could leave his room without sustaining -1 psychic damage every 2 seconds, he would have loved to study these people.
They had to have been made in a lab somewhere. This wasn't normal human behavior. Had they assumed the top apartments of buildings were empty? That no one ever bothered to look down? All he had were questions and not enough goddamn answers.
After he stared for an appropriate amount of time, he cocked his head when he noticed that the leg that straddled the shoulders of the man was a bit on the hairy side, and the feet— less petite.
He felt blood rush to his cheeks faster than was safe for an anemic-ridden man-- one who sometimes felt dizzy when he stood up too fast. He felt a stirring in the base of his stomach and coughed on nothing. He took it back, there was something deathly wrong with that yogurt.
He decided to not unpack –whatever that was – and rushed back to complete his original task of opening the stupid fucking window. But as luck had it, they were stuck. It was rare, but he occasionally allowed the stale air that accumulated in his room to roam free and return to the elements from which they once came. He concluded that this was just god attempt at humor during a particularly awkward moment.
In frustration, Shen Yuan pounded on the window frame and his emotion reverberated across the sections of glass that surrounded it.
“Stupid Window.”
Pound
“Stupid Couple.”
Pound
“Stupid Yogurt”
Pound
“Stupid author.”
Pound
“Stupid Brother.”
His hand reigned down on the poor defenseless frame with the might of an uncaring god. ----But, with the last bang of his gavel, he felt the floor shake beneath him.
The rumble migrated from the floors and into the walls. The breath that Shen Yuan hitched was still lodged in his throat somewhere. Adrenaline buzzed across his skin and he remained perfectly still like a deer caught in headlights.
Shen Yuan never bothered to pin up some framed artwork or shelves of any kind. He planned on doing it eventually, but many of the posters that anchored to his walls were from when he was 13. He felt pricks of guilt whenever he attempted to tug at the corners. It was like swinging the ax down on the seasoned employee whose kids you saw regularly at company potlucks.
The near decade-old adhesive of the tape finally gave in. He watched numerous posters of characters peel off his walls. His patchwork mural came undone around him.
The display glass cases of anime figurines he had by his desk toppled over. Shards of glass were scattered across the carpet of semi-used T-shirts that littered his floors. The few decorations of folded paper cranes that lined his bookcase had already taken flight.
The light novels he owned were already crammed into whatever little space his shelves would allow. It wouldn't have taken much effort to nudge a repertoire of shitty isekai novels to their doom. He watched numerous manga cascade into the pile of debris. His near-empty husk of the library looked as if it was about to follow his friends in suit.
He had struggled to maintain his balance and plopped onto the floor with as much grace as a 21-year-old NEET could muster. Shen Yuan rolled over to safety under his bed and snagged bits of glass into his skin. The underside of his bed frame laid bare in stark contrast to the rest of his room. He never allowed any stray items to roll their way to the forbidden lands. Any wayward sock or book that managed to slip through his careful gaze was dead to him forever.
Shen Yuan felt the uneasy twinge of familiarity from this view.
Shen Yuan pressed his forehead to the cold unforgiving floor and wrapped his hands around the back of his neck. His shaky breaths remained trapped between the wood and the lower part of his face. Beads of sweat had trickled down from his hairline and stung the small knicks he received during his great escape. His eyes were welded shut to forget that he had returned to the place he dreaded most.
The quakes began to dull and the granules of ceiling settled on top of his fallen comrades like finely powdered sugar.
Moments passed, and Shen Yuan was foolishly lulled into a false sense of security until he heard a loud crash outside his bedroom door. The thud echoed from the floorboards and into his ribcage. Not wanting to be played for a fool again, he sat there in the same position for the next several minutes.
You’re okay.
You’re okay.
It’s over.
He heard a voice that was not his own playing on a loop inside his skull. A voice ripped from a memory. He felt the ghost of his oldest brother’s hand on his scalp.
He took his first even breath despite how the rest of his body droned with danger notifications.
Shen Yuan’s head snapped up and received a nasty bang in return.
She had to be home by now.
He rolled from his temporary bunker and barreled to his bedroom door. Shards of glass and ceiling ingrained into the soles of his feet. With each step, pearls of blood had streaked across the novel pages that lined his path.
He unlocked his door, something he had not done in quite some time, and it unnerved him all the same. Shen Yuan hastily turned the golden knob and pushed the door a crack only for it to be stopped by some unseen force on the other side. He shook the golden doorknob in frustration. He couldn’t think of anything large enough outside his door that could bar his exit.
Squatting down, He stuck his hand in the small opening that the door allowed and felt around the base for the fallen rubble. His outstretched fingers failed to make any contact with whatever barricaded his exit. However, he was to peer through the door's crack and saw that the apartment was completely dark.
“Hello? Is anyone home? Is everyone okay?”
The silent reply unsettled him. The absence of his two older brothers was nothing special. His Oldest brother, Da-ge usually spent his days holed up in the office. Just as his father had done and his grandfather before him. And when Er-gege wasn’t helping him with the business, he’d often be at the campus computer lab.
According to the sky outside, it was nearly sunset; school hours were long over. Shen Yuan couldn’t recall if his little sister mentioned anything about returning home late. As the designated two youngest siblings, their WeChats consisted of mostly videos, gifs, and strings of emojis. But the times she did text it was usually to let the family know that she’d be staying over her friend's house.
Shen Yuan scrambled over to his nightstand which capsized during the earthquake. He excavated this phone out from under the small table and found it flipped over with his Hatsune Miku case facing him. Truly the worst possible position a father could find his child. With a silent prayer to whatever god had the time to listen, he plucked the phone and found its face damaged beyond recognition. Had the authorities knocked on his door, he wasn’t sure if he would have been able to identify the body. Out of all the losses he experienced today this one hurt the most.
“Well fuck.”
Thankfully, he saw that his chunky black laptop survived the ordeal. He was particularly fond of her. She happened to be the first laptop he had ever assembled some 3 years ago. It wasn't like he was strapped for cash at the time, but the challenge seemed interesting. And his er-ge bubbled with excitement to see him take an interest in his hobby. It was very cute.
The fact it was personally built really showed. Some odd bits and ends had fallen off over the years despite him purchasing the highest quality parts from all over the internet. He could have made a fort with the amount of cardboard boxes that remained.
The chunky laptop was littered with stickers of his favorite characters. Only those deemed worthy had the chance to join the ranks of the grand council. That being said, the council was mostly made up of Luo Binghe.
The laptop was plucked off the floor. He headed over to his desk and made an open space with his arm. Like a windshield wiper, he pushed all of the debris of broken glass and the numerous paper cranes he mindlessly folded, off of his workspace. The computer sat halfway opened and its screen blinked with urgency. Fuck.
Upon fully opening the computer, Shen Yuan was immediately bombarded with a screen full of flashing notices and error messages. It was worse than the time that he misclicked on an adult website and was redirected to a gay porn page that insisted that the man needed dick-growing pills and needed them NOW. At the time, the volume refused to deafen and none of the boxes with red x's worked.
It would've been a difficult conversation to have with his er-ge had he not thrown the laptop out the window.
This, however, was not a problem that could be solved through brute force. Shen Yuan was stranded inside his room and It was the only form of technology he had left.
He sorted through the pop-ups one by one.
______________________
System Alert!☆*:.｡.o(≧▽≦)o.｡.:*☆
Activation code triggered: “Dumb Fuck author, Dumb Fuck Novel!”
User: Cucumber_Bro Authenticated. Activation code accepted.
_______
System Alert! (・・ ) ?
Unknown Error code occurred while initializing Program: YCYU.NCN88.exe Please reboot and try again.
_________
System Alert! (ーー;)
Unknown Error code occurred while initializing Program: YCYU.NCN88.exe Please reboot and try again.
__________
System Alert! ヽ( `д´*)ノ
Unknown Error code occurred while initializing Program: YCYU.NCN88.exe Please reboot and try again.
_________
System Alert! (￢ ￢)
Manual Administrative access control requested by a third party user.
____________
System Alert! (￢‿￢ )
Request Override. accepted by user: Cucumber_Bro. Access granted.
_____________
System Alert! (°ㅂ°╬)
Unknown Error code occurred while initializing Program YCYU.NCN88.exe. Failed to initialize Program Please reboot and try again.
_____
Error! (⊙_⊙)
C:\ProgramFile\Cucum83r_Br0.zip not found.
Error! (ಥ﹏ಥ)
C:\ProgramFile\Cucum83r_Br0.zip not found.
Error! (ಡ‸ಡ)
C:\ProgramFile\Cucum83r_Br0.zip not found.
Notice: ∑d(°∀°d)
C:\ProgramFile\Cucum83r_Br0.zip Found.
________
Error! ლ(ಠ_ಠ ლ)
Diagnostic Message: An Error Occurred trying to extract source file C:\ProgramFile\Cucum83r_Br0.zip. The source file is corrupted and needs to be manually recovered.
Click Retry to try again. Ignore to skip this file (not recommended). Or Cancel
_________
System Alert! ╮( ˘ ､ ˘ )╭
System Restore requested. Press ok to continue or cancel to abort System restore.
_______
Notice:
Beginning System Restore. This may take a while
((￣ρ￣))..zzZZ
________
Error! ｡･ﾟﾟ*(>д<)*ﾟﾟ･｡
System restore did not complete successfully. Your files and settings were not changed.
System failed to extract the File (C:\) from the restore point. An unspecified error occurred during system restore.
You can try System Restore again and choose a different restore point. If you continue to see this error, you can try an advanced recovery method. For more information please contact an administrator.
________
System Notice: 人(_ _*)
________
It was as Shen Yuan read the last notification that his laptop decided to blue screen.
"Oh come on!"
He knew that banging the sides of the laptop would do no good but his blows continued to find the computer's edges. He leered at the useless car battery that sat before him. He was tempted to have it share the same fate as its predecessor.
It just didn't make any sense. Third-party user? Was he hacked? Why on earth would anyone want to hack him? Had they aimed for one of his older brothers and took a wrong left turn somewhere in the operation?
If so, these hackers are really shitty. Wait, were those kamojis they had used? He hadn't seen those things in years. They had tried making a comeback 1 or 2 years ago but never returned with the full force they originally had. So, to top it off, these hackers were cringe too.
He sat back in his gamer chair as far as it could go and rubbed his eyes in irritation until he saw lights dance at the back of his eyelids.
First the yogurt, then the window, then the earthquake, and finally the fates had claimed his beloved computer. It was as if death hung over his head like one of those Final Destination films and it was trying its best to finish the job.
The concept of Final Destination had always been a little funny to him. Not only had the manifestation of death fuck up his one task but he continued to fuck up a consecutive 5 more times– and all in America.
With a deep sigh, Shen Yuan swiveled his chair to find the damage the earthquake had left in its wake.
Honestly, he had the urge to just take a nap. He solved a lot of problems through sleeping
He wouldn't have to deal with the anxiety or mess if he was unconscious. And his siblings would presumably be home by the time he woke up. But, this would certainly be one of the times they'd reach for the emergency key to his bedroom door. If that were to happen, he would never be able to reclaim his dignity.
For the next few holidays, he would sit red-faced in his room as he listened to his siblings through the walls. Over dinner, they'd recount the tale of how they found their little brother napping through an earthquake. His face was simply too thin for that.
The risk of familial teasing was a great motivator. Shen Yuan slumped and dragged his body from the gamer chair.
At some point, the adrenaline filtered out of his body and he noticed how the bottoms of his feet stung. He was never one to wear slippers. The feeling of his makeshift shirt carpet under footwear just sounded like a sensory nightmare. He paid for it dearly as the soles of his feet were left exfoliated in the worst way possible.
Shen Yuan spent the next several minutes picking out small bits of glass. After wrapping bandages and slipping on some sandals, Shen Yuan's Bedroom Earthquake Disaster Response & Restoration Operation was underway!
Unfortunately, the small brush and dustpan he kept in his room were not designed for this level of cleanup. It would have to grind for exp off-screen before it could face this boss.
The lengthy broom that was in the kitchen might have sufficed but he was currently locked inside and this time it wasn't intentional.
Instead, being the innovator he was, he took a long panel of board he suspected belonged to his anime figurine case and pushed the surrounding debris into a pile. That was the planned craftsmanship of Ikea® furniture at work! Not only did one have the convenience of ordering online but when in the face of disaster it cleanly collapsed like a house of cards!
But then again, had he invested in higher-quality furniture it might have just survived the quake. That would, however, involve speaking to a stranger over the phone so he'd just take his chances with the Swedes.
He finished pushing the severed pieces of furniture, fabrics, books, glass, and paper cranes into smaller manageable piles throughout his room.
It was not dissimilar to the classic scene in romance films. As the music swelled, the male and female leads, who had been separated for years now, finally locked eyes. He'd forgotten the grain pattern of his floors and the way the orange-tinted varnish made it sparkle.
Sadly, just like Romeo and Juliet, these lovers were doomed from the start. He gave it a week and a few 3am shopping sprees before the floorboards were gone from view. Never to be seen from again.
As he completed his task, he found himself where he first started at the beginning of this mess-- in front of the window.
Oh good, the earthquake had not dispelled the couple from the rooftop. God forbid they take their fucking inside. He was not the most experienced guy due to being a neet, but he at least knew that his ass cheeks belonged behind closed doors.
To their credit, they at least had the decency to put on silk robes as they chatted over coffee. The smaller man rested his head on the taller one's chest. Shen Yuan dubbed that the taller one would be henceforth referred to as Pervert #1 and his partner, respectively, Pervert #2.
Pervert #1 was quite handsome, he wasn't sure why he had to resort to men. Any woman would have been glad to have slept with him. However, he happened to have a permanent scowl adhered to his face. That was probably what drove away the ladies. Thankfully, there was luck for him yet, it seemed to crack whenever the smaller man said something amusing. He wondered what #2 must have said to receive such a tender kiss on his head.
At the center of his chest, Shen Yuan felt an unpleasant …itch? It was some sort of squirming sensation. He rubbed at the area with his hand. Great, the cut sleeves gave him heartburn. Actually, that may have been the bad yogurt/old Perrier cocktail sitting in his stomach.
Damn, his first aid kit was severely lacking in Tum tablets. Shen Yuan returned to his duties and squatted by the nearest earthquake salad he had to sort through. He hugged his knees to his chest and plucked out all the posters that found themselves in the crossfire of the quake.
While many of his posters fell during the incident, his walls were never actually bare. As said, Shen Yuan never felt comfortable enough to take down his posters and allowed them to sit there for nearly a decade. But over the span of those 8 years, as he grew so did his latest obsessions. As a solution, he just kinda layered the new posters over each other. The wall itself was most likely an inch thick by now.
He smoothed the damaged poster with his hands and lifted it into the air. He tried to recall which wall it called home.
This one in particular was of Sailor Pluto casting her iconic spell, dead scream. The scene was moments before she saved Chibi Moon by vaporizing Tellu in a pillar of Red light. Her cherry eyes sparkled and her cadmium-green hair blew in the wind. Upon the first watch, He had never felt such exhilaration. She was just so fucking cool. She was a bit older than the other girls which made it hard for the demographic of the show to relate to, but she was loyal, and kind, and her interactions with Chibi Moon always left him a bit teary-eyed.
He recalled that she belonged on the east wall over his computer desk. The one that hung over the dusty nest of origami cranes he forgot to relocate. They made it through the quake but as their living conditions were quite poor, maybe being crushed by some fallen ceiling tile would have been a mercy.
It was also the artwork that conveniently covered the Kagome in an Inuyasha ensemble poster. These posters were tricky because when you happen to dislike the main lead you have a hard time finding official art that doesn't feature them.
With the last poster in hand, he stood on top of his desk chair and the wheels wiggled under his weight. The Da-ge that lived in his brain screamed how this was a clear office work hazard but he wasn’t actually here to nag at him nor was this an office, so he told the voice to go fuck himself. And anyway, due to the quake he currently lacked several pieces of more stable furniture and couldn’t afford to be picky.
That was when he saw it.
His eye spotted something before his brain could process it. On the north wall, the side that featured his door was a small patch where no poster overlapped. He hadn't noticed it before because the poster of a young Luo Binghe clashing against the Black moon Rhinoceros Python had previously patched the intersection.
But rather than the 'glacial green' as promised by the interior designer his family had hired, it was a shade of red that was so vibrant that it hurt to look at for too long. It was similar to the paper envelopes his family slipped under the door during the new year.
For a second, that's what he thought it was, and found it strange that one had gotten lodged in his wall. He rubbed his thumb tentatively on the corner of a Code Geass poster. In a trance, he peeled back his posters one by one. He promised C.C that he would place them back as soon as he took a closer look.
But the patch grew.
With every layer removed, he saw more and more detail of the red wallpaper. He thought it was something placed over his walls but, it was more like the green was painted over it. That the paint was something to be chipped away.
And that was what he did. He scrambled and nearly fell off the swivel chair in the process. Shen Yuan snatched the spoon he had used to eat last night’s yogurt. He wriggled the utensil inside the space where the paint met the paper and began chipping. The sensation reminded him of the trick his Er-ge taught him on how to best peel boiled eggs. It was smooth and the paint was stripped off in ribbons.
It revealed a large section of the red paper. He could see the pattern more clearly now– if ‘pattern’ is what you wanted to call it. Golden chrysanthemums and vines warped and snaked over the red in no discernable sequence. It reminded him of the eel farms he saw in one YouTube documentary on the same subject. The eels wriggled and wormed their way past their kin to reach the blob of soy at the center.
For some reason, Shen Yuan’s hand hesitated to touch it. His shaking fingers hovered over the section of the wall until he found the courage to finally tap it. His fingers glided over the surface and felt that while the red portion was matte, the gold vines and flowers were smooth and glossy. The gold gave a raised impression like it was something that sat on top of the red. There were small drips of paint near the edge of the leaf that didn’t seem to belong there. It didn't have the feeling of any of the commercial wallpapers he had seen before; like the striped one they had installed in the living room. This was hand-painted.
“What the fuck?” Shen Yuan whispered in a voice that was as small as he felt.
The silver spoon clamored against the wooden floor. He began clawing away his precious posters like a mindless animal. Some of them were even torn in half.
He only stopped when his left ring finger hit something solid. It made no sound but it felt like the clunk of a shovel hitting the top of a chest after a long dig. And like a chest in a game, something below the paper emitted a faint light. The more he tore away the stronger the light grew.
With a final rip, a large and ovate wooden frame was revealed. The frame was a chestnut wood engraved with gnarled branches and carefully crafted leaves. It was rooted inside the wall so sat level with the surrounding surface. Inside the frame looking back at him was a terrified Shen Yuan.
His eyes were widened by fear and encircled by deep bags. His skin was pale and sallow. As his gaze traveled down, he saw how the young man’s mouth was softly agape and his lips were a bit cracked and gray. He was in desperate need of some Blistex. His hair was a bit unkempt like he had just woken up – or experienced a natural disaster of some kind. God, was that really what he looked like right now?
His visage became distorted as a spiral of red energy swirled within the mirror.
“Nope.”
“Nope. Nope. Nope. Nope. Nope. Nope.”
He chanted this to himself as one hand quickly grasped the shreds of poster strewn around him and the other clasped the packing tape. With his teeth, he bit at the edge and unraveled a long strip. He quickly sealed large chunks of his mural over the exposed mirror. He taped and taped until the light was completely snuffed out.
With it now concealed, his shaky breaths evened themselves out and he wiped the sweat which dripped down his forehead. He didn’t realize he backed away until he felt the bedpost nudge the small of his back. His hand gripped the wood in fear.
“What the actual FUCK?”
Moments passed. And he heard a door close. But something had told him the sound did not belong to his home. The sound belonged to that of a sliding screen door.
“Oh good!”
“You’re awake!”
A melodic chime of an older woman’s voice echoed through his room. Shen Yuan’s nails dug into the bedpost so hard he began to bleed.
“Hmmmm? What’s all this then? Hiding from me are you?”
Shen Yuan had shuffled backwards onto his bed. His ears filled with the sound of his pounding heart and every part of his being told him to do one thing: to run.
He darted for the door and pushed the barricaded door as much as he could. When that didn’t work he used his shoulder as a battering ram like he had seen in the movies. But all that had left him was a shoulder that sang in pain.
To his side, he heard the sound of packing tape and paper being plucked away. He listened to the woman mindlessly hum as she unraveled her present.
He pushed himself as much as he could into the corner of the room where the doorframe met the wall. His back dragged against the wood as he slumped onto the ground. His hand clasped over his mouth letting no breaths– or screams– escape.
“Hm? Now where’d you run off to?”
He clenched his eyes shut. After moments had passed, he let himself hope that the woman left. Only for the hope to be ripped away when the woman spoke once more.
“Tsk Tsk Tsk.” she clicked as if disciplining a child.
Shen Yuan felt weightless in the pit of his stomach. The tether that connected his feet to the ground weakened and he saw the room shift. At first, he thought he was about to fall unconscious, but it was actually the perspective of the walls that changed. Like he was stuck inside a box and someone was turning it to its side.
The furniture that remained including his desk, his empty library, and his bed dragged across in the direction of the south-facing wall—the one with windows that overlooked a thousand-foot drop above Shanghai.
Losing his footing, he wedged his fingers through the space that the door revealed and they wrapped around the doorframe.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!
His feet swung over open air and he heard the sounds of several pieces of furniture overturn and break against the windows of his room. As the room turned an entire 90 degrees, he lost sight of the new bottom of the room. He probably wouldn't have gotten a good look, anyway. Sometime after the shift of the room he lost his pair of glasses.
Now, all he managed to see were bandaged feet dangling below him, and one of them was missing a green flip-flop. Across from himself, he locked eyes with Luo Binghe as the poster unlatched from the wall and fluttered down into the depths of his room.
Shen Yuan was not strong. He knew this. He isolated himself for the last 11 years. The most exercise he got in a day was walking from his chair to the bathroom and back again. He wasn’t going to survive this because in every sense of the word, Shen Yuan was not strong. He tightened his hold on the frame.
“Da-ge! E-ge! MeiMei! Please -anyone!
I’m going to-”
This right hand broke away and a jolt of fear rocked his body. His feet kicked trying to find purchase against the wall–or was it a ceiling now?
He heard the audible whine of the windows creaking under the newly added weight of his things. It was like the sound that sheets of ice made before they were about to give way.
Everything he had ever owned, all the items that had kept him company as he felt himself waste away in his room would be his downfall.
“Da-ge! I’m sorry— just please.”
Shen Yuan didn’t even know what he was apologizing for. For not listening? For isolating himself? For getting caught? For letting himself get caught again?
When was the last time he spoke to his family members face to face? He watched them change physically over the years through social media, but meimei always edited her photos. He hadn't seen her struggles with acne or how long it took her to do her hair in the morning. Da-ge was only ever seen in family group photos, and every time he caught a glimpse he seemed to grow even more tired. And Er-gege mostly posted pics of foods he made. When was the last time he even sat down to have a meal with them?
He never got the chance to get better. He never got the chance to show his family he could've gotten better. He just wanted to say that he loved them– that he was sorry he couldn’t make it past his bedroom door.
God, he was so corny for being regretful in the end. He used to scream at characters like these. he'd say: 'Why didn't you figure that out in the first place? you know how much trouble you caused?' and would throw the book across the room.
He pressed his head against the wood frame. Tears streamed down his cheeks and trickled into his ears. Ah gross, a bit of snot poked out from his nose too. His left hand was completely red from the pressure of holding his entire body aloft. It tingled like his legs occasionally did when he awkwardly sat on them for too long.
Shen Yuan recalled how the cliff-hanging scenes in movies looked intense and cool. But right now, he felt so ugly and afraid. They were never really scary because you just knew that one camera shot was only moments away. The one where the hero grabbed the damsel’s hand just in the nick of time.
But there was no one here. It was just him in this room as it always had been.
His left hand let go.
He doesn’t remember the trip down. That part at least was short and painless.
But the impact was what he’d remember for the rest of his life, whether that be for years to come or the next few minutes.
Shen Yuan had bruises before and even a few broken bones, but that was a long time ago. Now the worst pain he’s had for a while was when he occasionally stubbed his toe against his desk. His tolerance for pain was nonexistent. But he was sure that anyone would agree that if a plank pierced through your thigh and jagged pieces of glass stuck out of your skull, it would have felt pretty bad. Fucking Ikea, man.
After the sound of glass shattering, he expected the free fall. To feel the sun on his skin for the first time in nearly 11 years. Or at least, to feel the impact of his body slamming against the pavement of the sidewalk down below.
But instead, the back of his head felt the solid plane of the wall. His vision was blurry and full of blood. A spear of glass protruded out of his left eye and the blood pooled onto its neighbor. With a hiss, Shen Yuan cocked his head to the right and saw handpainted golden chrysanthemums staring back at him.
what the f—-uck?
“There you are.” she said warmly
He turned his head back to the woman and though his eyes were soaked in crimson, he was able to make out her form. The room was so dark and the light behind her blazed as if she hid a sun from view. She looked like a grandmother. Maybe 60? The old woman must not have cared for her health as in her hand was a long smoke pipe. The kind he only saw in old movies. Her hair was pinned back in a high bun with swoops of gray hairs sticking out from the sides of her temples. She was smiling. Not like in anime either, where there was a high concentration of characters who were happy to see another person in pain.To him, she smiled like one would at the end of a good day.
Despite being in the ceiling, she was completely leveled. Almost as if someone nailed a portrait with a very ornate frame to the ceiling. But the difference between a woman in a portrait and the woman that loomed above him one was that--- she spoke.
“Ah. Still dreaming are we?”
With a wave of the smoke pipe, the broken furniture – including the glass and wood that impaled him– was gone in a puff of black smoke that pooled out of the pipe’s mouth. A dream? He would have thought he’d dreamt this all had it not hurt coming out as much as it did going in.
He felt the rumble of the room through his bones as it was turned back to its original position. Every movement made his body scream. He unceremoniously slid down the wall and his face met the familiar coolness of the floors. He clutched at his eye and groaned as the woman looked at him from up above.
“Oh, Don’t be so dramatic.”
With a final wave of her smoke pipe, the wounds were painfully sealed. He felt broken bones mash themselves whole again. He felt gashes stitched themselves together. And he felt his eye regrow within its socket.
“I’ll make us some tea.”
More smoke expelled from her pipe. At least this time, it didn’t seem to have any magical effects of any kind. She then drew a transparent curtain over the opening of the mirror and it dimmed the fluorescence of the room. He saw the shadow of her back as she made her way out of sight.
After the throbbing pain in his eye ceased, he was able to focus on his surroundings. The red patch he stumbled upon mere hours ago had consumed the remainder of his walls. Not even a hint of poster or paint remained.
Once more, he raised his hand to his eye in absolute disbelief. His vision, which blurred after his glasses abandoned him, was now crystal clear. The only time he saw things this sharply was when it was accompanied by a metal frame. When he lowered his hand, he noticed that his arm was covered in a heavy sleeve that did not belong to the ratty green one he put on that morning.
His entire person was wrapped in red Han dynasty-style robes with gold accents. The white of his inner robes poked out of the red and both were bound by a maroon belt. If he were to stand near the wallpaper he would have simply melted into it.
The uncertainty gripped him. He just wanted to throw up but felt too disoriented to find the bathroom door. Filled with anxiety, he stuck his thumbnail in between his teeth. He was always a nail-biter. It was a habit, amongst others, that Da-ge detested. So it was not unusual that his fingers found themselves inside his mouth, but what was unfamiliar was how long they had become. His nails, which were once bitten to near nubs, were now an appropriate length and freshly manicured. Astonished, he pulled his hand away and noticed how his fingertips were smudged with red. He rubbed the vermillion between his fingers. It wasn’t blood, it was—lipstick?
“What the fuck.” he breathed.
His story had already ended. Not here, but 11 years ago. And yet they found him anyway. The realization that he would have to relive the hell he went through so many years ago, should have destroyed him. In any other lifetime, it might very well have. But, not in this lifetime. Not yet.
There were things that should have been done, that were never done. There were things that should have been said, that were never said. He didn’t know where he was or how he got there. Nor did he know what the old woman wanted from him. But he knew one thing for certain—he was going back home.