Chapter 6: The First Step of Friendly Communication

The girl in the painting, who called herself “Irene,” and Yu Sheng, standing outside the frame, stared at each other, locked in a silent standoff. So far, neither of them had managed to establish even a shred of trust.

Yu Sheng couldn’t be sure whether this “painting person,” who seemed like some kind of cursed object, was telling the truth. He had never heard of “Alice’s Little House” or anything about being sealed inside a painting before. Therefore, when Irene claimed she didn’t know why she was in the house, he didn’t believe a word of it.

On the other hand, Irene suspected that Yu Sheng still intended to set her on fire with his lighter. Her gaze constantly darted toward the small flame-making device.

“I think you must have bought the painting yourself, hung it up, and then just forgot about it,” Irene repeated, as if trying to convince herself as much as him. “Humans do that all the time—buy strange stuff just to collect it and then let it gather dust at home.”

Yu Sheng felt a bit guilty because, to be honest, he wasn’t entirely sure where everything in this house came from. After all, he had only been in “this place” for two months. He wasn’t familiar with this world—or even with himself. Who knew what the house and its previous owner were like before he showed up?

Could it have been another “Yu Sheng”?

These thoughts only flashed briefly in his mind before he dismissed them. Staring back at Irene’s crimson eyes, he shook his head instinctively. “That’s impossible. Just looking at this painting, you can tell it’s expensive—not something I could afford.”

“What if it was dirt cheap?” Irene scooted forward, hugging her teddy bear. “Fake antiques are everywhere these days. Maybe the previous owner bought me in bulk from some con artist selling counterfeit relics—like, two bucks a pound, mixed in with other paintings. Or maybe a middleman couldn’t tell the difference…”

Yu Sheng made a weird face. “Your frame alone looks like solid old wood, with golden inlays on the edges.”

Irene pondered for a moment. “Redwood veneer filled with resin. Then add copper-plated iron wires on the sides.”

“…That would cost way more than two bucks a pound,” Yu Sheng pointed out.

“Four bucks, then. Any higher, and no one would buy it.”

Yu Sheng couldn’t help it—he laughed. He squatted down in front of the painting, then plopped down on the floor, leaning back and laughing so hard that half his body leaned backward. He never thought he’d find himself in such a ridiculous situation—squatting in an empty room, arguing with a doll sealed in a cursed painting about whether the frame was a cheap fake or not.

And just a short while ago, a frozen rainstorm had produced a frog that nearly tore his heart out.

Life had become absurdly interesting.

Irene, however, was alarmed by Yu Sheng’s sudden burst of laughter. After all, Yu Sheng had placed her painting on the ground after taking it off the wall, and now she could see the bare ceiling above and hear his laughter echoing beside her. Unable to hold back, she finally shouted, “Hey, stop laughing! What’s so funny?”

Yu Sheng gradually calmed down, scooting closer and looking into the painting. His expression suddenly turned serious. “That strange dream I had earlier—was that your doing?”

He was referring to the bizarre dream where he hacked at a locked door with an axe, only to hear eerie laughter from behind it. Now that he thought about it, the surreal dream was definitely connected to this peculiar girl in the painting.

Oh, and he’d also thrown his back out during that dream—it still hurt.

“No!” Irene shook her head emphatically, but then hesitated, a hint of uncertainty crossing her face. “Well… not entirely.”

“What do you mean?” Yu Sheng frowned. “You’re talking in circles.”

“The dream was your own, but I did sort of get inside,” Irene explained patiently. “I sensed someone dreaming and thought it was a chance to find help. I didn’t mean to do anything bad! I didn’t know you couldn’t open that door or that you’d get so mad—breaking down a door with an axe just because you forgot your keys…”

As Irene rambled on, Yu Sheng slowly pieced things together. “So, the door wasn’t locked by you? And you didn’t trigger the dream? You just have the ability to enter other people’s dreams?”

“Exactly! And that’s not all—I can do much more!” Irene nodded proudly, but her expression quickly dimmed. “But now that I’m sealed in this painting, pretty much all I’ve got left is that one power…”

Yu Sheng didn’t fully trust Irene’s explanation, but he couldn’t help but feel intrigued—and more than a little puzzled—by his own experience in that weird dream. After some thought, he posed a second question. “You said you were trying to find help through the dream? Help with what?”

“To get me out of here, of course!” Irene responded as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Getting out of this painting would be best, but at least move me out of this room. It’s so empty—couldn’t you at least hang a TV on the opposite wall? One with voice control would be even better—I’m not good with remotes. There’s this one brand that’s really nice…”

Yu Sheng realized that this girl had a personality prone to wild tangents. If no one stopped her, she would happily ramble on in increasingly bizarre directions—usually toward something overly self-indulgent.

Yu Sheng interrupted without hesitation: “Then why are you laughing while asking for help? When I was ‘opening the Door’ outside, what was with the creepy laughter coming from inside?”

“That wasn’t me!” Irene quickly waved her hands in denial, then shoved the brown teddy bear she was holding forward. “It was this thing laughing!”

Yu Sheng remained silent, his expression blank, his eyes filled with a look that clearly said, [Do you think I’m an idiot?]

“Really!” Irene seemed a bit anxious as she shook the teddy bear vigorously. “It was sealed inside this painting with me. But, you know, maybe it’s been too long, and its brain’s kind of messed up now. All it does is giggle like a fool. Usually, if you poke it, it’ll laugh, but sometimes it just laughs on its own and scares me half to death…”

Yu Sheng listened to Irene’s earnest explanation with a stiff face. Slowly, his suspicion started to waver, especially after noticing the serious expression on the girl’s face inside the painting. Finally, his gaze landed on the teddy bear. After a moment of hesitation, he nodded. “Then make it laugh. I want to hear if it’s the same sound.”

Irene immediately poked the bear’s head.

The teddy bear remained silent.

Irene blinked in confusion, then jabbed it harder—still no sound. She looked like she was on the verge of tears.

“Sometimes it does that,” the painted girl said with a mournful face. “I poke it, and it doesn’t laugh…”

Yu Sheng’s mouth twitched slightly.

“So you’re telling me that sometimes it laughs when you poke it, and sometimes it doesn’t. And sometimes it laughs without being poked at all. So whether you poke it or not, it may or may not laugh—” he rattled off in a tongue-twisting analysis before concluding, “So does poking it even have anything to do with it laughing?”

Irene froze, her face blank before she hesitantly nodded. “Right… That makes sense.”

Yu Sheng didn’t feel like dealing with this seemingly nonsensical ‘Cursed Oil Painting’ anymore. Besides, he was already starting to ignore the strange laugh he heard in his dream earlier.

His stomach rumbled, reminding him of the dinner he missed after crashing straight into bed earlier. With a wry smile and a shake of his head, he slowly got to his feet.

“Hey, are you leaving?” Irene’s voice immediately grew panicked. “You’re not just gonna leave me on the floor, right? At least hang me back on the wall! There’s wallpaper to look at over there! The ceiling’s got nothing!”

Yu Sheng picked up the painting frame, gritting his teeth as his waist gave a painful twinge.

“I’m taking you to the living room, so stop yapping,” he said casually.

Irene instantly brightened up, sitting back on her chair with the teddy bear in her arms as Yu Sheng dragged the painting out. “That’s great! You’re actually pretty nice! Oh, by the way, is it dinnertime now? What’s for dinner?”

Yu Sheng glanced down at her. “Can you even eat?”

“I can watch!”

Yu Sheng felt like he had to be crazy to keep humoring this thing. Holding his aching waist, he struggled down the stairs with the painting frame. Irene’s incessant chatter didn’t stop for a moment.

“Wow, your house is bigger than I thought! There’s more beyond that room?”

“Is that your bedroom across the hall? Hey, are there other people here?”

“Should I greet them? Do you think they’d be scared? Normal humans don’t usually see talking Dolls or Paintings, right?”

“Wait, I didn’t even ask your name yet! You’re Yu Sheng? What a weird name… not like the fish dish, right?”

“What’s wrong with your waist? You’re still young! I heard human joints are pretty troublesome, and they can’t just be replaced… huh? Why are you glaring at me like that? That look’s kinda scary…”

Finally, Yu Sheng struggled his way to the top of the staircase, peering down at the steps ahead. Normally, he wouldn’t think much of it, but with his aching waist and the cumbersome Oil Painting Frame in his hands, the stairs seemed steep as a mountain.

He had planned to carry Irene’s frame down with both hands, but now he realized his body wasn’t up to it.

Yu Sheng lowered his head, deep in thought.

Sensing something amiss, the chatterbox in the painting grew quiet, tension creeping onto her face.

Yu Sheng lowered his eyelids and gave the talkative painted girl a calm look. “Irene.”

The girl in the painting shivered. “Y-Yes?”

“Your frame looks pretty sturdy.”

“Uh… Yeah?”

Silently, Yu Sheng set the painting at the top of the stairs.

“Might get a bit bumpy. Hold on tight.”

Realization hit Irene as her eyes widened in horror. “Wait, don’t you dare—”

“Off you go!”

The Oil Painting Frame launched down the staircase, bouncing and clattering all the way down, accompanied by Irene’s increasingly colorful curses: “Yu Sheng, you bastard! Aaaah—oof—ahhh! *&%@#!”

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