Chapter Seventeen

Zi'ang slapped a talisman onto the door of one of the stalls.

The paper ignited violently, stirring the air and causing a small-scale explosion. Several beams of light peeled away from the door, making its outline blur and shimmer.

The fluorescent light on the ceiling flickered.

Zi'ang instinctively looked up. A large, unknown object tumbled from above his head and landed at his feet.

“Good grief!” Zi'ang exclaimed in Mandarin, stepping aside and peering down at the thing on the floor.

What had fallen was a palm-sized pool of viscous matter. Its surface crawled slowly, shimmering with a silvery-gray sheen.

“Oh, it’s nothing,” Zi'ang sighed in relief. “With all these toilets around, I thought it was...” He hesitated, leaving the thought unfinished.

The viscous substance crept toward a cubicle, then slithered up the frame to the door. It adhered itself to the door, stopping at eye level with Zi'ang.

“What do you want?” Zi'ang muttered, reaching into his pocket for another talisman.

Suddenly, the mass lunged at Zi'ang’s face.

Prepared, Zi'ang tilted his head aside, slapping the talisman onto the oncoming substance.

The talisman, stuck to the mass, whizzed past Zi'ang’s ear and burst into flames, triggering another small explosion that blasted the viscous blob into fragments.

Large and small pieces clattered to the ground, seeped into the tiles, and vanished without a trace.

“Interesting,” Zi'ang shrugged. “Now, can you let me out?”

Suddenly, an enormous cone-shaped object burst from beneath Zi'ang’s feet.

He instinctively leaned back and fell to the floor.

The surface of the cone shimmered with the same silvery-gray luster. It drilled straight upward, merged with the ceiling, then immediately plunged down toward him from above.

Its movement far exceeded Zi'ang’s expectations and drove him to make a foolish response—he turned his head away, squeezed his eyes shut, and scrunched his face as tightly as possible.

The cone stopped just in time, its tip hovering by Zi'ang’s ear.

Cautiously, Zi'ang opened one eye.

The fluorescent light above erupted in a burst of white, swallowing everything in the room.

“Is this some kind of joke?” Zi'ang muttered in Mandarin as he stood up.

This time, his surroundings had changed into an ordinary college classroom.

Apart from the necessary desks, podium, and blackboard, the room was bare. On the blackboard was a drawing of a maze and a humanoid monster, from whose waist extended two tentacle-like appendages, making it look rather sinister.

Except for Zi'ang, who glanced around warily, the room was empty. Bright white light poured in through every window, obscuring the view outside.

The classroom's front door opened, and a woman with her hair in a bun and dressed in a dance leotard walked in. She frowned and touched the outside of her left leg.

The spot she touched was covered by a long white stocking, but the thin material did little to hide a slender scar.

“Kelly!” A medium-built man hurried into the classroom. “I've been looking everywhere for you. Thankfully, a student saw you come in. Please, stop wandering off.”

“I’m an adult, Donald,” Kelly replied.

“I’m just worried you’ll...” Donald walked to the nearest window and drew the curtain. “Never mind. I think the interview went very well. The outcome is clear. It should be—your abilities far exceed their requirements.”

“They must have noticed the scar,” Kelly said irritably.

“I doubt it,” Donald replied. “It’s so small...”

“Why keep those stupid tools around?” Kelly suddenly shouted. “Didn’t we agree? No more tending the fields!”

“Yes, yes,” Donald hastily assured her. “I’ve thrown them all out. And I know saying this won’t erase your scar, but at least in our home, nothing like that will ever happen again.”

Kelly let out a heavy sigh and touched her scar once more.

“From today on, everything will be back on track,” Donald continued. “I’ll take you to the teaching building every time. After class, I’ll pick you up. There are only a dozen or so students in each class—you can handle it. The rest of the time, I’ll manage the real estate business, get us ready to move to the city. It won’t be long before you’re fully recovered and back on stage.”

Kelly shook her head. “You can’t keep doing this.”

“What? What did I do wrong?” Donald asked.

“I mean,” Kelly said, “you can’t keep making my life your own.”

“I... don’t understand,” Donald responded, puzzled. “Are you saying... you want me to learn to dance too?”

“You can’t always drive me everywhere, arrange everything for me, and make me feel like a burden,” Kelly turned away.

“Of course you’re not a burden,” Donald said, raising his voice. “You just... have things to overcome, and I’m happy to help.”

Kelly shook her head again. “Let’s go home,” she said.

“All right.” Donald headed for the door, then paused and looked back at her. “Will you... take the job?”

“If I can get there on my own, I will,” Kelly said. “If I can’t, I suppose I’ll just sell handmade dolls for the rest of my life.”

A dazzling white light burst from the classroom’s front door.

“Maybe there’s a better way,” Donald whispered in the vast whiteness. “I’m a bit thirsty—let’s find one of those water fountains.”

The scene shifted again.

Zi'ang found himself back in the room full of toilet cubicles.

“Again?!” he exclaimed, pulling out another talisman and looking down at his feet.

The fluorescent light above flickered erratically, plunging the whole room into alternating shadows and glare.