Xia Bai crawled through a dim cave.
The cave was dark and winding, slimy and wet, growing increasingly narrow. After what felt like an eternity of crawling, he finally spotted a person. It seemed like Chu Xuelin, but it was too dark for him to make out clearly.
He sat down beside the person, wanting to speak. However, when he opened his mouth, words wouldn’t come out; it was as if his throat had been blocked.
The person didn’t seem inclined to converse either. She lay in the cave with her sticky hair covering her face, head lowered.
Xia Bai simply sat beside them, lost in his thoughts.
After an indeterminate amount of time, a ray of light shone into the dark cave. Xia Bai and the figure both looked up, seeing a faint white ring around the entrance of the cave.
It felt like they were at the bottom of a narrow well, catching a glimpse of daylight.
“Look.”
The voice was soft, ethereal, as if it came from the heavens above, drifting down to the bottom of the well.
Above, written clearly against the bright sky, were nine slightly immature characters, forming three names.
Chu Xuemu.
“Your name is Chu Xuemu, and so is mine. Two ‘mu‘ form a ‘lin‘. We are Chu Xuelin.
When they call for Chu Xuelin, they are not just calling me but also you. They are calling us.”
The ethereal voice echoed from above once more.
Xia Bai noticed the figure beside him trembling.
Lying in the cave, she remained in her upward-gazing position, head still, shaking for some unknown reason. But it wasn’t fear—it seemed more like an overwhelming emotion that her body couldn’t bear.
“Chu Xuelin!”
Another voice, stern and commanding, echoed from above.
“I’m sorry, Xuemu, I need to leave for a while.”
After the melodious voice faded, the sky disappeared, plunging the cave into darkness once more.
Xia Bai saw the person continue to gaze upwards. It took a while before she lowered her head, curling into a fetal position with her damp hair enveloping her.
Before long, she raised her head again, waiting for another glimpse of the sky. This cycle of waiting and looking up continued until the sky was visible again and the voice from above returned.
“I evaded the adopters and wasn’t discovered.”
“Don’t be afraid, Xuemu. We won’t be found. The workers at this orphanage are lazy. They won’t check our body unless someone decides to adopt us.”
The melodious voice continued for some time, speaking gently and soothingly.
Beside Xia Bai, the person just lay there, half-propped up, looking at the sky without moving.
“Mom didn’t abandon us. She just couldn’t continue to raise us.”
“In fact, when she left… she cried, heartbreakingly so. She would take a step, then look back. She didn’t just run off without a trace.”
We’re sorry for MTLers or people who like using reading mode, but our translations keep getting stolen by aggregators so we’re going to bring back the copy protection. If you need to MTL please retype the gibberish parts.
“Pa’r bxjs atja wbw ifoa. Tbe tjnf wf, jcv P tjnf sbe. Qf klii jikjsr yf abufatfg, obgfnfg lcrfqjgjyif.”
Ktf ygluta rxs jybnf yfujc ab yieg jr ugjs mibevr ujatfgfv, jcv gjlcvgbqr yfujc ab ojii.
Ktf mbwobgalcu nblmf ugjvejiis ojvfv, yea atf qfgrbc yfrlvf Wlj Djl gfwjlcfv lc atf rjwf tjio-qgbqqfv eq qbrlalbc, ibbxlcu ja atf rxs ecali la ribkis rtgjcx jcv vlrjqqfjgfv, lwwfgrlcu atf mjnf lc vjgxcfrr bcmf wbgf.
And so, Xia Bai sat on her, watching her curl up, watching her gaze upwards, and together, they awaited the daylight, listening to the voice from above.
Most of the time, the bottom of their well was pitch-dark, and sometimes even breathing felt difficult, as if drowning in a sticky suffocation.
However, when that voice resounded, light would shine in. Occasionally, the light would touch them, bringing with it fresh air, a bright sky, a colorful world.
Gradually, Xia Bai, who had always been in this dark cave, began to eagerly anticipate the arrival of that voice. To him, the owner of the voice became synonymous with light, with air, and with the colorful world.
The only human in their dark world, the person from above.
Fortunately, she was a gentle soul. Always responding to their silent expectations. She would share all the beautiful moments, allowing them to gaze up in the darkness and see a sky painted with diverse sceneries.
“Xuemu, Xuemu has started elementary school.”
Above them appeared a tattered green backpack, rather large for a child.
“Xuemu, Xuemu ranked first! Look at the little red flower they rewarded me with. Xuemu, try reading it?”
A knitted red flower badge with a round, sun-like yellow center surrounded by five vibrant red petals.
In the cave, Xuemu nodded fervently even though the other Xuemu couldn’t see her do so.
“Xuemu, Xuemu graduated from elementary school.”
A graduation picture appeared. In it, she stood out in the crowd, looking beautiful and endearing, her eyes curving into crescents as she gently covered her mouth to laugh.
“Xuemu, Xuemu is starting middle school. We can leave this place.”
On the grimy ground lay a woven bag, containing all their belongings, signaling their imminent journey to an unknown destination.
“Xuemu, Xuemu has entered high school. Tuition is waived, and there are plenty of scholarships. We won’t have to worry about going hungry anymore.”
For the first time in that sky, a proper meal appeared on a stainless steel plate: a serving of carrot, stewed chicken, rice, and a bowl of red bean soup. It emanated warmth and fragrance, filling the cave.
“Xuemu, it’s time for Xuemu to choose her major. Xuemu wants to study dentistry.”
Her voice, now devoid of childhood innocence, still sounded melodious, refined by time to be gentle yet firm.
“Xuemu wants to specialize in dentistry. She hopes to, someday, find someone like us in the world. If there’s another person out there like us, she won’t have to suffer from dental pain, too terrified to see a dentist. I’ll be able to treat them.”
“Xuemu, do you ever feel lonely?”
The cave was illuminated with a golden glow, sunbeams reaching deep within, casting a bright light on them.
For the first time, the glass sky showcased three figures, one of them holding a flashlight.
Chu Xuemu was stunningly beautiful, even more so than in photographs. Her skin was fair, eyebrows naturally arching in classic willow leaf shape, eyes soft and luminous, and her unpainted lips naturally rosy.
Pristine and radiant, untouched by blemish.
Perhaps because she had brought light and company to Xia Bai’s otherwise gloomy confines, he now saw her through a halo of radiant purity.
When such a divine creature opened her mouth, a grotesquely sticky and deformed figure was revealed, starkly exposed in the bright light.
She lay halfway propped up on the ground, her tiny arms propping her up against the cave. She had no legs. She grew from the cave itself, connected directly to the other Chu Xuemu’s throat.
The face, often obscured by sticky hair, showed slightly distorted features. Not in the sense of ugliness. In fact, she was very attractive, bearing a strong resemblance to the other Chu Xuemu. It was just as if she had been squeezed, making her appearance slightly eerie.
The Xuemu beside Xia Bai trembled, looking up at the sky as always. This time, her eyes sparkled slightly.
When that beautiful girl opens her mouth, one would see a sticky head. The face on the upward-gazing head was like a thin blood film, the facial features are narrow and distorted.
In ancient times, some believed that twins were omens of misfortune, inherently conflicting and bringing disaster to their family.
There’s a modern rumor that twins compete in the womb, absorbing each other. Only one child, having absorbed the other as nourishment, is born. Or in cases of incomplete absorption, a child with two heads, three legs, or six fingers might emerge.
No one truly knows what happens at the embryonic stage. Perhaps many are born with another soul inside them.
The existence of the two Chu Xuemus defied human comprehension. It wasn’t just about understanding or acceptance; it was a truth they couldn’t share with the world. One always wondered if the other felt lonely.
Thus, when she saw a sweet pea flower among the first bouquet she received, she eagerly showed it.
“Xuemu, look, isn’t it beautiful? This is a sweet pea flower, a plant that symbiotically coexists with rhizobium. I love sweet peas the most. Do you like it?”
Xia Bai and the Xuemu by his side looked up, witnessing the lavender blossoms filling the sky. The thin petals unfolded over the dark calyx, fluttering in the wind like enormous, graceful butterflies.
I like it.
Sweet pea blossoms became their favorite flower. Occasionally, Chu Xuemu would buy a handful, and a cascade of sweet pea flowers would descend from the sky. The delicate scent of the flowers would waft into the cramped cave, and she, looking up, would slowly lie down, reminiscent of a fetus curled up within its mother’s womb.
Later, she discovered a salamander with even greater delight, housed in an aquarium where green algae drifted.
“Xuemu, look! Did you know? The green algae has been inside the salamander since it was an embryonic cell. It’s a symbiosis that humans initially couldn’t comprehend. The plant and animal grow together from the embryonic stage. But now, many people know.”
“Isn’t it just like us?”
“You are like the green algae, and I am the salamander. We’ve grown up together, inseparable, forever living symbiotically.”
“One day, others will accept us too, and someone will see you.”
In the glow of the greenish sky, more and more salamanders appeared, of different types and sizes.
Chu Xuemu completed her master’s and then pursued her doctorate.
She would often chat with another version of herself in the lab, as the equipment allowed them to see each other clearly.
They looked at each other: one with eyes full of laughter, radiant in beauty, the other with eyes shimmering, seeing only her counterpart.
Xia Bai had come to understand the Chu Xuemu beside him. He knew that this was her happiest moment, a counterweight against the looming darkness and oppression.
Chu Xuemu grew increasingly fond of her field and yearned to be a doctor.
She would often share her dreams of being a doctor with the other Chu Xuemu. Her eyes lit up brighter with hope. She envisioned herself in a white coat, a healer.
Her hard work was rewarded. She was hired by a prestigious hospital.
On the day of her pre-employment medical examination, she said, “Xuemu, I won’t become a doctor.”
Raindrops slanted from the sky.
She was unaware, though even Xia Bai knew. During her university medical check-up, she had dodged an eye, nose, and mouth examination. However, a large, reputable hospital would surely have a stricter medical examination.
The Chu Xuemu by Xia Bai’s side collapsed entirely, curling herself into her long hair, which seemed even damper.
As the raindrops steadily fell, she laughed, “Being a doctor is so tiring, and one might encounter patient disputes. I just want to spend quiet days with Xuemu.”
Afterward, the Chu Xuemu beside Xia Bai was continuously restless and anxious. Almost all day, she would look up, waiting for the other Chu Xuemu, but she couldn’t speak.
The other Chu Xuemu would talk to her daily and show her things, but she didn’t always look at her.
When the other Chu Xuemu said she had fallen in love, the anxiety peaked.
“Xuemu, we’ve finally met someone who might accept us, who knows us. He seems to be my destined one. He’s a teacher from our academy, named Wang Badan.”
The Chu Xuemu beside Xia Bai struggled desperately, screaming, her face contorting. All she could emit were muffled sounds, like a distressed small animal.
Xia Bai reached out, gently patting her back. She didn’t seem to feel it, but he felt her subtle trembling beneath the stickiness.
The other Chu Xuemu interpreted this as worry and panic. “Xuemu, don’t worry. When we talked about deformities, he said that deformities are unique in the world, an accidental beauty of nature, deserving protection. He’s that kind of person.”
The aquarium with the salamander was brought over to soothe her.
Looking at the salamander and green algae, Chu Xuemu said, “If there’s someone in the world who could accept us, it would be him. If there’s a second person who could see you, it would also be him.”
Indeed, he saw her. A glint flashed in his narrow eyes, “Truly a miracle of nature.”
“Teacher Wang, how do you feel?”
That pleasant voice contained an unusual tension.
“I’m both amazed and pained. Xuelin, these years must have been tough and lonely for both of you. From now on, you have me.”
As the sky brightened then turned dark, a red monster tinged slightly white entered, bringing a scorching gust that almost swept them up.
The monster seemed to have set its sights on her. Inside the cave, Chu Xuemu whimpered, trying to hide. By the time the monster left, she was barely hanging on, clutching the cave wall with both her tiny hands. Almost invisible droplets trickled deep into the cavern.
Wang Badan remarked, “Xuelin, have you ever considered how pitiful and unfair it is for Xuemu to live in such a dark and cramped space? She longs to bask in the sunlight, to step on the earth and feel the gentle breezes and floral fragrances, and to gaze at the sky. She’s not just a part of you; she deserves an identity of her own.”
Inside the cave, Chu Xuemu vehemently shook her head.
She might be called Chu Xuemu, but ‘mu‘ would always be a part of ‘lin‘.
They should grow up together; and besides, she had her own sky.
Wang Badan continued, “I know a specialist in congenital anomalies; perhaps we should consult him.”
The sky expanded vastly, and a strange man leaned in to observe. His large eyes, intensified by glasses, shone with fervor and eagerness; their reddened rims contrasting starkly against the sky.
Cold, rigid forceps clamped onto Chu Xuemu inside the cave, turning her this way and that.
A blinding light descended, accompanied by the snapping sounds of “click, click.” Chu Xuemu covered her vulnerable eyes, but they were forced open. Eventually, she let out a scream that could hardly be heard from outside, with russet tears streaming across her membranous face.
Wang Badan added, “Dr. Li needs clearer footage, Xuelin. Don’t worry, I won’t let him do it this time; I’ll film it myself.”
The sky transformed into glass, encircled with dark rims. It seemed as if countless eyes were peeking at her, their piercing light stabbing into her gaze.
For a long time, Chu Xuemu inside the cave made no sound. Her posture remained the same for days, half-leaning out of the cave, her head tilted up, reminiscent of a kitten gazing up at its owner. But only her upper half was visible.
One day, Chu Xuemu spoke, “Xuemu, Xuemu is going to wear that white lab coat now.”
In the cave, Chu Xuemu’s blurry eyes finally gleamed, and she stretched her slimy, petite body, struggling to lift her head even higher.
Chu Xuemu, who had been silent for a long while, now said with a voice deep yet gentle, “Tomorrow, many industry experts and leaders will visit our institute’s new medical lab. I’ve been chosen to guide them.”
She sounded both excited and anxious, “They are all luminaries in the medical field.”
The next day, Chu Xuemu donned a pristine white coat, “Xuemu, after today’s event, there will be a group photo. I’ll show it to you.”
This was an event she greatly valued, and Chu Xuemu inside the cave, not wishing to disturb her, remained still.
When there were many people around, the cave usually darkened, the bright sky rarely seen. Yet, voices still penetrated.
“Professor Chu, could you open your mouth for us to see?”
“Professor Chu, you look even more stunning in person. Is the inside of your mouth as astonishing as in the broadcast?”
“Professor Chu, didn’t our hospital hire you? Why did you leave during the mouth and nose check-up? I can continue the examination. Will you come back to our hospital?”
Xia Bai felt a tremor, uncertain if it came from Chu Xuemu inside the cave or the one outside.
Xia Bai believed she must have realized that these VIPs came to this small medical college not just for a lab tour.
Wang Badan aimed his camera at her mouth, not merely capturing treatment images for the medical expert.
The sky was obscured by a palm, and from the depths of the cave came a sound akin to sobbing and trembling thunder.
“Everyone, let’s take a commemorative group photo.”
Surrounding Chu Xuemu were the luminaries of the medical world, research professors who’ve published extensively in top-tier journals, leaders of renowned hospitals; all esteemed figures she had once admired.
She once dreamed of standing beside them, clad in a white coat herself.
The dream seemed to have come true.
“Look here, everyone. Smile! Three, two, one, say ‘cheese’!”
All eyes were on her.
Within this circle, gazes of authority, weightiness, subtlety, and greasiness were fixated upon her.
Facing the camera, Chu Xuelin instinctively covered her mouth and smiled, holding back the tears threatening to spill from her eyes.
That’s heartbreaking, she trusted the wrong person
It’s somehow horror that bring so much emotion! 😭
Horror novels** Jesus autocorrect
man that’s so true, but then again if there weren’t depressing sob stories then how could we get an extremely powerful fierce ghost with deep pain and grievance? But I genuinely feel bad for them because some of this stuff could happen in real life, like trust the wrong person and you’ll suffer the consequence, aka trust no one.
😭
😭
Thanks for the chapter
wuwuwu…. I feel so bad for the little Chu Xuemu…