Chapter 4: No One in the Room
(This novel is translated and hosted on Bcatranslation.)
Yu Sheng felt a sudden, icy shiver travel down his spine the moment he realized that someone might have been hiding inside that locked room—the very same room he had never managed to open, no matter how hard he tried. The mere idea set his mind spinning with a whirlwind of wild possibilities.
Who could that person be? When had they sneaked inside? Had they slipped in while he slept, silently taking up residence without him ever knowing? Or had they been lurking there ever since he first arrived, two whole months ago?
If it was that second possibility, then Yu Sheng had spent all this time alone, or so he believed, without ever noticing another soul living under the same roof. He had never once seen that stubborn door open. Did that mean this mysterious someone had been locked inside all along? Was there another secret entrance into that strange room? Or… had it even been a person laughing in there?
His thoughts came whirling and clattering about, like dry leaves in a storm. Yet curiously, rather than panicking, he found his expression growing strangely calm. Perhaps something in him had changed after his encounter with the “Rain Frog.” Perhaps dying and then returning to life had shifted his mind into a different state. Yu Sheng couldn’t say for sure, but he felt… different.
The laughter he had heard from behind the door felt neither friendly nor openly hostile. It was just bizarre beyond measure. Oddly enough, after that first trembling moment, Yu Sheng realized that all his fear and hesitation had vanished. In their place, he found a bold and burning curiosity.
He had to find out exactly what was inside that room.
He needed to understand every secret hidden in this big old house that he had taken as his refuge.
This was his safehouse, after all. It was his only “home” in this immense city, and he simply couldn’t allow any danger to lurk inside it.
Slowly, he approached the locked door and pressed his ear against it. There was the faintest hint of a sound—maybe a quiet chuckle, or perhaps just the hollow whisper of wind twisting through the hallway. He couldn’t be sure.
With steady determination, he curled his fingers into a fist and knocked on the door. “Open up. I know you’re in there.”
Of course, the door remained locked and unmoving. The strange laughter faded as though retreating into shadowy corners. Yu Sheng felt no surprise. Without a word, he stepped away and left that corridor, heading directly toward the cluttered storage room next door. He rummaged through piles of old junk until he found an axe.
A heavy silence filled the air as he returned to the locked door, weapon in hand. He raised the axe high and brought it down with all his strength.
The blade struck the thin wooden surface with a harsh, screeching clash that sounded oddly metallic. For all that noise and spark, the door showed not even the tiniest scratch, though it had always looked fragile enough to be kicked in with a single good stomp.
Behind the door, that laughter rose again—muffled, distant, but somehow clearer than before. Yu Sheng paid it no mind. His expression remained calm, almost methodical, as if he were engaged in some careful craft instead of a desperate attempt to break into a sealed room. He lifted the axe once more and swung it again. And again.
He understood that this door would not yield easily. He’d tried everything over the past two months—drills, saws, all manner of tools—yet nothing had even dented its surface. Still, he persisted each day, and now, after hearing that odd voice from within, he was more determined than ever. Every fruitless strike of the axe only steeled his resolve further. Each swing felt more powerful, more fluid, more deeply connected to his will.
As he worked, a strange thought drifted through Yu Sheng’s increasingly focused mind. He imagined himself as the legendary Wu Gang, eternally chopping at that stubborn laurel tree on the moon. If only he could fell this cursed door, then Chang’e, the Jade Rabbit, Bald Qiang, and Sisyphus himself might appear, clapping their hands and nodding in approval. He had no idea why Sisyphus crossed his mind, but the image flitted by regardless.
The laughter behind the door sharpened, ringing out more piercingly, as if the hidden figure knew perfectly well that Yu Sheng couldn’t break through and found the whole effort hilarious.
Then, unexpectedly, another voice—this one nervous and annoyed—called out from behind the door. “Would you stop laughing?! If he actually gets in here, I’m the first one he’s going to chop!”
Abruptly, the laughter ceased.
Yu Sheng froze, his axe lifted high. His heart gave a sudden leap, and—
Just then, he felt a sharp crack somewhere around his waist.
His grip loosened, and the axe slipped from his hands, striking the door at an odd angle. This time, instead of the usual metallic wail, there came a softer, lighter snap. It was different—somehow important.
The axe fell to the floor with a heavy clang, and Yu Sheng clutched at his side with a hiss of pain. His back was aching fiercely now, sending jolts of discomfort through his body.
Supporting himself with one hand against the doorframe, he took a moment to steady himself. Once he could focus again, he noticed something unusual where the axe had last landed. A faint shimmer hung in the air, as though a spark had been frozen just a few centimeters from the door. It glowed softly against the wood, a tiny light floating in midair.
Using that small glow to guide his eyes, Yu Sheng peered closely at the door’s surface. Squinting, he reached toward that faint glimmer.
From behind the door came a muffled, panicked shriek: “Ahh—!”
And then Yu Sheng jolted awake.
He found himself sprawled awkwardly on the living room couch, bright overhead lights glaring down at him, his muscles aching from sleeping in an uncomfortable position. The ticking of the wall clock seemed far too loud, and as he glanced at its face, he realized he’d only been asleep for about forty minutes.
For a few long moments, he lay there, startled and dazed, his mind drifting as the memory of that vivid dream slowly pieced itself back together.
He had only nodded off. Was all that really just a dream?
Yet, even as he asked himself this, Yu Sheng felt something was off. That dream had been too sharp, too detailed. He could still feel the weight of the axe in his hand and see that uncanny glow trapped in midair. He could still feel the strange ache in his back.
Suddenly, he sat up, wincing as pain shot through his side. His back hurt exactly as it had in the dream—sharp, biting pain that didn’t fade. “Ugh… ouch…” he muttered through clenched teeth. Straightening up made it worse, as if the ache from sleeping on the couch combined with something else, something he couldn’t explain. For a moment, he almost wished that bizarre Rain Frog would stab him in the heart again—at least that was a pain that ended quickly.
He rubbed his sore back and forced himself to stand. That was no ordinary dream, he decided. Something very unusual had just happened. He was now even more certain that his so-called “safehouse” was not as safe as he had believed.
Pushing past the discomfort, he gathered his thoughts. After a brief pause, he marched upstairs. This time, he grabbed a baton, gripping it tightly in one hand. With his other hand, he went to the storage room and, sure enough, found the very same axe that had appeared in his dream. The wooden handle felt familiar in his palm, slightly warm, as if it remembered his grip.
He made his way back to the locked door. The door stood as always, plain and unmarked, without a single scratch from his supposed attempts to break it down. Everything looked perfectly normal, no sign of any strange glowing lights or hidden voices. The corridor was deathly quiet.
But Yu Sheng remembered something—the exact spot where that mysterious glow had appeared. Keeping the baton at his waist, he switched the axe to his left hand and reached out with his right. His fingers began to search along the door’s surface, feeling for something that should not exist.
He found it.
Just near the hinges, where he had seen that strange spark in his dream, his fingertips brushed against something invisible. Some kind of handle, hidden from sight, was now suddenly tangible beneath his touch.
Yu Sheng was absolutely certain no such handle had ever been there before. He had inspected every inch of this door from the very first day he discovered it was locked. How could it appear now? Was it because he had dreamed of it? Had his dream somehow broken an illusion, revealing something he could not previously perceive?
Countless explanations raced through his mind, drawing on every odd story he had ever read or watched. Yet his hand did not falter. With a firm grip, he turned the invisible handle.
The door, once utterly immovable, swung open with graceful ease.
Inside, the room was dark and empty, with bare floors and walls that gave up no secrets. Yu Sheng stood there, axe at the ready, peering into the darkness as the dim hallway light crept inside. Nothing stirred. There was not a single figure, not the faintest whisper. No one who could have laughed at him. There wasn’t even a piece of furniture that could hide a person.
Except… there was something.
A painting hung on the wall opposite the doorway. Its frame was ornate, carved with swirling vines. At its center was a single empty chair, upholstered in a plush, ruby-red cushion. No eerie ghost perched there, no monstrous figure glaring out. Just an empty chair suspended in painted stillness.
Yu Sheng frowned, his eyes never leaving the painting. He reached back and found the light switch on the wall, clicking it on. A yellowish glow filled the room, revealing every detail more clearly.
Careful and curious, he approached the painting, studying it for a long moment. The frame’s intricate patterns caught the light, and the brushstrokes on the chair’s cushion looked so real he could almost feel the texture.
Then he noticed something tucked in one corner of the painting: just the tiniest hint of a skirt’s hem, barely visible.
“…” Yu Sheng paused, his face twisting into a puzzled expression. Finally, he spoke aloud, voice calm but clearly puzzled. “Are you in there?”
“No!” came a voice from the painting, sounding both defensive and oddly offended.
Yu Sheng blinked. He stared at the painting—the empty chair, the ornate frame, and that barely visible hint of fabric. Well, this was certainly going to be interesting.