Chapter 6

Chapter 6: The First Step of Friendly Communication

Irene stared down at Yu Sheng from inside the painting, eyes wide. So far, the two of them hadn’t built even a trace of trust.

Yu Sheng had no way to confirm whether this “person in the painting”—a cursed object, for all he knew—was telling the truth. Everything she’d mentioned, from Alice Little House to being sealed into the painting, was the first time he’d ever heard of it. That was exactly why, when Irene claimed she didn’t know why she’d appeared in this house, he didn’t believe a word.

On the other hand, Irene seemed convinced Yu Sheng was still holding back the urge to torch her with the lighter. Her gaze kept drifting toward it.

“I really think you bought the painting yourself and hung it up, then turned around and forgot,” Irene repeated. “Doesn’t that happen all the time? You humans see something rare and want to collect it. You buy it, then let it gather dust at home…”

Hearing her say that made Yu Sheng feel a flicker of guilt, because he truly couldn’t be sure where a lot of the things in this house came from. He’d only arrived “here” two months ago. Forget being unfamiliar with this world—he barely felt familiar with himself.

Who knew what this house and its owner had been like two months ago?

Had it been another “Yu Sheng” back then?

The thought flashed through his mind and vanished. Under the gaze of those scarlet eyes, Yu Sheng still shook his head and said, “No way. This painting looks expensive. It doesn’t look like something I could afford…”

“Hey, what if it was cheap?” Irene scooted forward, hugging the teddy bear tighter. “These days there are fake bottles, fake fans, fake calligraphy, fake paintings—tons of them. Maybe the seller bought me in bulk from some fake antique dealer. Or maybe some reseller didn’t know what they had…”

Yu Sheng’s expression turned strange. “This frame feels like solid old wood, and the edges have gold inlay…”

Irene thought for a moment. “Rosewood veneer with resin inside. Iron wire coated with copper.”

Yu Sheng stared at her. “…Then it’s not ‘cheap by the pound’ anymore.”

“Moderately cheap,” Irene insisted. “It can’t go too high. If it’s too expensive, nobody buys it.”

Yu Sheng: “…”

Irene watched him intently. “Hey, why aren’t you saying anything?”

Yu Sheng suddenly found it funny. He laughed out loud, then flopped back onto the floor, staring up at the ceiling as his shoulders shook. In his whole life, he’d never imagined he’d be crouched in an empty room, arguing with a doll sealed inside an oil painting about whether the frame was a cheap fake.

And not long ago, a frog had crawled out of freezing rain and torn his heart out.

All of it was so damn ridiculous.

His laughter, though, made Irene uneasy. Now that the painting had been taken off the wall and set on the floor, she could see the bare ceiling and hear him laughing beside her. Finally, she couldn’t take it anymore.

“Hey! Don’t laugh! What’s so funny about this?”

Yu Sheng slowly stopped. He inched closer, looked at Irene, and his expression snapped back to serious.

“That dream I had earlier—was it you?”

He meant the locked door he’d hacked at with an axe, and the strange laughter behind it. Now it seemed obvious the dream had been tied to this painting.

Also, his back still hurt like hell.

“No!” Irene shook her head immediately. Then she hesitated. “Well… not exactly no…”

“What do you mean?” Yu Sheng frowned. “You’re twisting your words.”

“That dream was yours, but I slipped into it,” Irene explained, suddenly patient. “I sensed someone dreaming and wanted to use that method to find help. I wasn’t trying to do anything bad! I didn’t know you couldn’t open that door. And you had such a temper—you forgot your key and started chopping the door with an axe…”

Yu Sheng listened, slowly piecing it together. “So the door wasn’t locked by you, and the dream wasn’t triggered by you. You just… have the ability to enter other people’s dreams?”

He half-believed her, half didn’t. But the more she spoke, the more questions he had.

“You said you wanted to find someone through dreams to help you,” he said. “Help with what?”

“Obviously, to get me out,” Irene replied like it was the most natural thing in the world. “Best case, get me out of this painting. If that doesn’t work, at least get me out of that room. It’s empty. There’s nothing. If the opposite wall had a TV hanging on it, that’d be fine. Voice control would be even better. Using a remote isn’t convenient for me. And a certain brand would be pretty nice…”

Yu Sheng recognized the type. If no one stopped her, her thoughts would sprint off in whatever direction pleased her most.

He cut in without hesitation. “Then why were you laughing like that? When I was outside the door, what was that mocking laugh from inside?”

“That wasn’t me!” Irene waved her hands in a panic, then thrust the brown teddy bear forward. “It was laughing!”

Yu Sheng didn’t respond. He only stared at her, face blank, eyes full of: Do you think I’m an idiot?

“Really!” Irene looked genuinely anxious. She shook the teddy bear hard. “It got sealed into this painting with me, but maybe it’s been too long and its brain doesn’t work anymore. Now all it can do is laugh. Usually, if you poke it, it makes that creepy laugh. But sometimes it laughs by itself even if you don’t poke it. It scares me all the time…”

Yu Sheng kept a straight face and listened. She looked so earnest that he started to half-believe her. His gaze slid to the teddy bear.

“Then make it laugh,” he said after a moment. “I’ll listen and see if it’s the same.”

Irene immediately poked the teddy bear’s head.

Nothing.

She froze, then poked it again, harder. Still nothing. Her face crumpled like she was about to cry.

“S-sometimes it does this,” she said miserably. “I poke it and it won’t laugh…”

Yu Sheng’s mouth twitched.

“So sometimes it laughs when you don’t poke it, and sometimes it doesn’t laugh when you do. In other words, whether you poke it or not, it might laugh or it might not.” He ran through the logic and landed on the obvious conclusion. “So does poking it have anything to do with it laughing?”

Irene blinked. Then, slowly, she nodded. “R-right… yeah.”

Yu Sheng didn’t want to keep arguing with a cursed painting that seemed to be missing a few screws.

His stomach growled. He’d missed dinner, collapsed into sleep, and now his body was collecting the debt. Yu Sheng smiled, shook his head, and stood.

“Hey, you’re leaving?” Irene sounded panicked. “You’re not going to just leave me on the floor, are you? At least hang me back on the wall. The wall across has wallpaper, but the ceiling has nothing…”

Yu Sheng bent down, lifted the heavy frame—and grimaced as his back flared.

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

Irene perked up at once. Hugging the teddy bear, she sat straight on her chair and watched him drag her toward the door.

“Good. You’re actually pretty nice,” she said. “Oh—right, is it dinner time? What are we eating tonight?”

Yu Sheng glanced down. “Can you eat?”

“I can watch!”

Yu Sheng wasn’t sure what kind of illness made him keep talking to this thing, but he did it anyway.

Holding his aching waist, he carried the painting toward the stairs. Irene’s nonstop chatter never paused.

“Wow, your house is pretty big. So there’s this much outside that room?”

“What’s that room across the hall? Your bedroom? Hey, is anyone else here?”

“Should I say hi? Will they be scared? Ordinary people probably haven’t seen a talking doll in a talking painting…”

“Oh, right, I still haven’t asked your name! What’s your name? Yu Sheng? That’s such a weird name… It’s not that raw fish dish you can eat, right?”

“What’s wrong with your back? You’re young and your waist is already wrecked? I’m telling you, protect your waist. You humans have such a hassle with joints, and you can’t even take them apart whenever you want…”

Yu Sheng finally limped to the top of the stairs and looked down. Normally he wouldn’t think twice about them, but today—back aching, painting heavy—the steps looked steep enough to be a mountain.

He’d planned to carry the frame down with both hands. Now he realized his body probably wouldn’t allow it.

Yu Sheng lowered his head and thought in silence.

Irene seemed to sense something. Her voice slowed, then stopped. Her expression tightened.

Yu Sheng gave her a half-lidded look. “Irene.”

She jolted. “Huh… huh?”

“I feel like your frame is pretty sturdy.”

“I-it is… yeah?”

Yu Sheng set the painting carefully at the top of the stairs.

“It might shake a bit,” he said. “Hold on.”

Irene’s eyes went wide. “Hey, wait—”

“Off you go.”

The painting began a loud, violent, ping-ponging adventure down the stairs.

Along the way, Irene’s “enthusiastic gratitude” echoed through the house. “Yu Sheng, you—aaaaah! Waaaah! Ooooh! *&%$#*—!”