Chapter 48: Strange Tale—"Red Threads" 1

“Tsk, tsk, tsk… My god.”

“Someone come help, please!”

“Oh lord, how did he get burned like this…”

It was clear that the dozen or so naked guests in the bathhouse were all terrified. They stared at the young man who had attacked earlier, now sprawled across the tiled floor. His limbs still twitched faintly, but his throat could no longer produce a sound—either from pain or sheer exhaustion.

Blood mingled with the pool water, creating a pinkish hue as it flowed outward. Swelling blisters of various sizes had begun to rise all over his body, packed so densely that the sight was nauseating.

It wasn’t long before several staff members from the bathhouse rushed in. Even they nearly slipped at the sheer horror of the scene before them. They couldn't understand how the cucumber pool, which hadn't been reheated, could become so scalding—almost to boiling. And if the water temperature had changed, why hadn’t the man gotten out sooner? Did the pool become boiling hot almost instantly? How could that be possible…

The attendants were dumbfounded, but they acted quickly. Emergency services were called, the manager on duty summoned, and they did their best to calm the other guests.

Chaos reigned in the bathhouse. The young man was still alive, for now, but whether he could be saved depended on how quickly the ambulance arrived.

Just as Qi Yan had said earlier—if he survived, it would be with his skin peeled from his bones.

Dong Ye clutched his towel and quietly tugged at Qi Yan. “Qi Yan… this, this, this…” He seemed to want to say something, but couldn’t find the words.

Qi Yan didn’t look at him, nor at the panicked guests and staff. His face was grave as he stared at a patch of empty floor by the big pool… The “woman” holding a child had appeared again, hidden in the drifting mist. Of course, no one else but Qi Yan could see her.

You just have to act in front of me, don’t you… He had braced himself for this, yet Qi Yan couldn’t help but feel frustrated.

He had suspected that the young man might suffer the talisman’s revenge, but “Mother” insisted on making a spectacle of it—almost as if she wanted him to witness it personally.

Whatever the case, the men’s bathhouse would certainly have to close early tonight. Led by the attendants, the guests hurriedly dressed and left in a flurry.

Qi Yan had originally planned to spend the night here, but now, clearly, that was impossible—and unnecessary.

The nearly-boiled young man was carried out and rushed to the ambulance, all in full view of the crowd. Even though Qi Yan and Dong Ye had had a significant conflict with him earlier, there was no need to worry about suspicion—there were too many witnesses to the accident.

By the time the two changed and stepped outside, a crowd had already gathered—paramedics, bathhouse staff, and curious onlookers…

This had been a bathhouse visit to remember—they’d watched a man nearly get boiled alive.

“That was just sinister… Hey, Qi Yan, aren’t you afraid to be carrying around something so dangerous?” Dong Ye finally dared to speak up as they emerged.

Qi Yan walked slowly, forcing a wry smile. “You can get used to fear. It’s not that I’m not afraid—I just have no choice.”

Indeed, compared to the two flayed corpses at Yang Han’s place, today’s victim seemed almost mild.

Having witnessed so many horrors, Qi Yan was no longer easily shaken—especially since this “accident” had been within his expectations.

It was nearly one in the morning, but the bar street was still bustling. Most were young people, out for late-night snacks after an evening of fun.

Qi Yan walked with his head down, lost in thought. The two wandered near the food stalls, drifting aimlessly. Suddenly, Qi Yan asked softly, “Yezi, you saw it all with your own eyes just now. If you want to cut ties with me, I’d understand.”

“What nonsense…” Dong Ye was taken aback, but he knew what Qi Yan meant, even as he pretended otherwise.

After all, when Qi Yan had first obtained the talisman, Dong Ye and the others had already learned some of the details.

Qi Yan smiled faintly and didn’t dwell on it. Some burdens were best shared, if only with close friends. “You know, I’ve been wearing this talisman for nearly two months. I’ve really changed. Now it’s easy for me to see… to see things that most people fear.”

Li Lan had once said the talisman was subtly changing Qi Yan’s very constitution—dampening his inner fire and heightening his sensitivity to spirits.

Dong Ye understood, concern in his voice. “So you’re saying it’s easy for you to see ghosts now?” He didn’t hesitate to say the word.

Qi Yan lit a cigarette and went on, “That’s right. It’s a strange feeling, being able to see spirits that are invisible to the naked eye. Even here in the city, it’s no different. Actually, when you called me tonight—just before I got in the car—I saw one…”

Without reservation, he told Dong Ye about the little girl he’d seen near his home.

Though Qi Yan spoke lightly, Dong Ye stopped in his tracks after hearing the story.

Qi Yan noticed and asked, “What’s wrong?”

Dong Ye furrowed his brow, his expression uneasy. “A little girl in a red dress, crouching by the roadside with her head down?”

“Yes, that’s exactly what I saw.”

“Wait… wait a second. That image, it sounds familiar. Give me a moment—I think I’ve heard it somewhere before…” Dong Ye rubbed his temples, trying to recall.

Qi Yan didn’t know why his friend was suddenly so agitated, but he waited.

Dong Ye muttered to himself for over three minutes before his eyes suddenly widened. He turned sharply to Qi Yan. “I remember now! Do you recall back in college, that ghost story Tian Hao told us in the dorm?”

“Nope!” Qi Yan replied at once. “College dorms… That was ages ago. How could I remember? Besides, I never cared much about that stuff anyway.”

It wasn’t really that long ago—he was only twenty-three, so college was just two or three years behind him.

But Dong Ye was asking him to remember one of the many ghost stories bored guys tell in their dorms? Who could remember any of those?

They’d been friends since school, and sure enough, sometimes the guys would kill time at night by swapping ghost stories. It was almost a rite of passage for anyone who’d lived in a dorm.

But how many of those tales, spun by bored young men, were truly memorable? Most were made up on the spot—ridiculous in hindsight, just a way to spook themselves for fun.

And Qi Yan had never really cared for such tales. Even if someone got excited telling one, he’d just treat it as a bedtime story and forget it the next day.

Seeing Qi Yan’s total lack of recollection, Dong Ye pressed on, “The one Tian Hao told… You know, the one that even gave you chills, about the ‘Red Thread’…”