Hide and Seek: You Talk Ugly

Shu Yu was sleeping soundly—he rarely slept this deeply, given that he often did shady work and kept company with unsavory sorts. Those so-called friends of his had little loyalty to him and would just as soon kill him over a bad split of the spoils.

But for some reason, tonight he was especially drowsy, and he slept especially well.

In his slumber, he vaguely felt a dull ache in his left ear.

Shu Yu instinctively reached up to scratch his left ear, but his hand found nothing—only warm, thick liquid, soaking his palm.

He jolted awake from the strange, sweet darkness of sleep, looking down at the hand that had been clawing at his ear: it was covered in blood, and an ear with a long earring dangled from it lay in his palm.

Pain followed vision, and Shu Yu screamed, flinging the ear away while clutching at the searing wound on the left side of his head; his hand closed on nothing, his palm only meeting the smooth, clean slice of the cut.

The ear he'd thrown in panic rolled a short distance before bumping against the toe of a pair of short boots, forced to a stop.

Shu Yu naturally saw those boots.

He'd spent years mixing with all sorts of people, and though young, his eye was sharp; even in this bizarre situation, he instinctively recognized that the boots were well made, of fine lambskin—his gaze traveled upward, and he saw a handsome youth in white robes with red trim smiling at him.

To be honest, Shu Yu was quite confident in his own looks, believing that even the sons of wealthy families would struggle to surpass him in appearance.

He'd managed to swindle people in Wen County for years, succeeding time and again, mostly thanks to his delicate, handsome face. Those naïve young girls, seeing him dressed cleanly and plainly, good-looking and polite in his speech, would immediately let down their guard.

But looking at the red-robed youth's smiling face with those dimples, a sense of inferiority welled up in Shu Yu's heart.

He had never seen anyone smile so beautifully—gentle, harmless, full of goodwill. The other's kind demeanor suddenly made him realize that not only was he inferior in looks, but his very character was base and contemptible.

Shu Yu's mind drifted, thoughts scattering, and in that moment he forgot the searing pain in his left ear entirely.

The red-robed youth stepped forward, his boot landing on the ear on the ground—Shu Yu heard a sound like mud being crushed underfoot.

The red-robed youth: "What's your name?"

Shu Yu answered in a daze: "Shu Yu..."

As he spoke, he dipped his finger in the blood and wrote his name on the ground.

The red-robed youth looked down at the two characters, then said with a smile, "Oh, so it's 'Shu Yu,' not Tang Shuyu. Tell me about He Zhuoming—how did you meet her?"

Shu Yu's expression was blank, and he repeated He Zhuoming's name twice before finally recalling the person it belonged to.

Shu Yu: "I... I met her half a month ago..."

"That day I was wandering the streets when I saw her—she looked unfamiliar, not a local, dressed in strange clothes, wandering around... Her behavior was odd, but you could tell at a glance she was from a wealthy family... The fabric of her clothes was excellent, neither silk nor gauze nor hemp—material I'd never seen before..."

He spoke slowly, and the memories in his mind gradually sharpened; the incident with that strange girl suddenly became as clear as if it had happened yesterday.

"The ornaments in her hair, the bangles on her wrists—all exquisitely strange... There wasn't a single callus on her fingers, and her teeth were straight and white, not a single cavity... I figured she must be the pearl in her family's palm, never doing a lick of rough work, eating only fine, soft food."

"So I found two friends and put on a heroic rescue act right in front of her... On the way home with her, we ran into my neighbors, who called my name. When she heard it, she asked if I was named Tang Shuyu, in an excited tone—I guessed she might have mistaken me for that Tang Shuyu person. I claimed the name, hoping she'd trust me faster and reveal more about herself."

"I originally planned to use her to get close to her parents, to squeeze as much as I could from her family's wealth... But after I tricked her back home, my creditor suddenly showed up... I had no choice, I needed money urgently, and I couldn't wait for her parents who were far away—I initially thought of selling her. She was cute enough; whether as a maidservant or a concubine, she should fetch a decent price..."

At this point in his recollection, Shu Yu's face twisted slightly, as if sinking into pain: "I... I don't know why... someone suddenly came to me, saying they wanted to buy a bride..."

Shu Yu had connections for selling fallen girls, and the villagers of the Corrupted Deity, desperate for a bride, had been directed to him—the lingering influence of the Corrupted Deity made him afraid to dwell on that memory, but he couldn't resist the red-robed youth's questioning. Caught between the two, a pain like needles stabbed through his skull.

The red-robed youth moved his boot aside, glancing down at the ear and long earring he'd crushed into pulp.

Cheap beads ground to dust, mingled in a thin smear of flesh and blood.

As his gaze shifted away, Shu Yu snapped awake—he realized the situation was wrong, and ignoring the pain in his left ear, he lunged at the other, headbutting the red-robed youth square in the stomach.

He struck hard and fast, while a thin dagger slid out of his sleeve, plunging into the youth's abdomen and twisting violently.

Yet the red-robed youth remained standing there, his body neither swaying nor buckling. Blood flowed from the shredded wound in his belly, and as it ran down the dagger to touch Shu Yu's hand, his hand dissolved.

Skin, flesh, bone rotted away and fell, along with the dagger, to the ground; at the sound of the blade landing, Shu Yu collapsed screaming, clutching the clean-cut stump of his wrist as he rolled on the floor.

The red-robed youth bent down to pick up the dagger, the wound on his abdomen fully healed, leaving only bloodstains on his clothes—he stepped on Shu Yu's chest, pinning him in place, forcing him to gasp for breath as he stared up at the red-robed youth.

The red-robed youth still wore a bright, kind smile as he leaned down to gaze at him, saying, "You've said everything you needed to say. Now it's my turn."

Shu Yu's pinned chest heaved violently, his eyes bulging as if they might split; he no longer found the red-robed youth kind in the slightest. He only thought him as terrifying as a ghost.

"You talk like trash. Don't speak anymore."

As the red-robed youth murmured to himself with a smile, Shu Yu felt his tongue and throat melt—dissolving into bloody water, flowing back into his lungs and guts.

He coughed violently, choking on blood that sprayed across his face, his mouth straining wide but producing not a single sound.

His eyes began to glaze over from the agony, his voiceless mouth opening and closing, silently screaming meaningless pleas and whys.

The red-robed youth looked down with a smile, saying, "Beg me? How boring. Then I'll beg you too—please just die, alright? Hm, dying straight away isn't fun, is it? So let's play an interesting game."

"Let's play hide and seek! When Little He finds you, then you can die~"

The youth paid no mind to whatever Shu Yu was saying, speaking only for himself and only of what pleased him. As he talked, his eyes curved into crescents, and the long string of beads hanging from his left ear swayed slightly, casting a line of shadows in the moonlight that wound from his profile down to his neck.

That shadow of the beads didn't look like a string of beads at all—it looked like a row of tiny heads.

*

He Zhuoming woke early—she sat facing the east before the sun had risen, doing breathing exercises, then practiced her sword.

While practicing, she kept thinking of Xu Feixian.

Xu Feixian's saber was terrifying. How could she use it so well? If I could get my swordwork to that level, then the next time she draws her blade, I wouldn't be such a coward.

But if she wanted her swordwork to match Xu Feixian's saber, He Zhuoming figured she should at least have a real sword—with that thought, she trained even harder.

It never occurred to He Zhuoming that she might not be able to reach that level.

Because even though she'd taken a hard fall when she first transmigrated, nearly dying and realizing she was just a nobody—still, He Zhuoming was young, and at her age, pain was easily forgotten.

In less than half a month, with no further setbacks, her youthful confidence naturally led her to believe again that she could do anything.

After finishing the sword routine smoothly and sheathing her blade with practiced ease, He Zhuoming was immensely pleased with herself, bounding back to her room with sweat beading on her forehead.

The room she'd slept in the night before was spacious, with a large, soft bed and a folding screen; behind the screen was a huge incense burner. The burner was lit, and the fragrance was one He Zhuoming knew well—it was the same scent that clung to Lin Qingyun.

A natural, sweet floral fragrance.

He Zhuoming had slept in that room all night, and now the same scent clung to her clothes.

When she entered, she found Lin Qingyun was there too; he sat by the window, holding a thick white candle that was burning.

He Zhuoming glanced outside the door, puzzled: it was clearly daytime.

She hurried over and hopped in front of him: "It's already light out, why are you burning a candle?"

Lin Qingyun held the candle with one hand and beckoned to He Zhuoming with the other, in a good mood, smiling: "Look at this candle closely."

He Zhuoming was baffled, so she dragged over a chair, sat down across from Lin Qingyun, and leaned in to examine it, eyes fixed without blinking.

But no matter how she looked, it was just an ordinary candle, burning without even a hint of fragrance. If there was anything special, it was that the wick wasn't cotton thread but a tiny paper doll.

The paper doll even had a face painted on it—crudely and hastily drawn, with one ear missing.

As the candle burned, the little paper doll trembled within the pale blue flame, as if shivering.

He Zhuoming: "This paper doll is ugly."

Lin Qingyun nodded: "His heart is ugly, so the drawing is ugly too."

He Zhuoming: "You drew someone you hate?"

Lin Qingyun thought for a moment, then smiled: "I do hate him, because he looks a little like me, yet falls far short. Seeing him is like a fine steed seeing a mule—disgusting."

He Zhuoming: "Who?"

Lin Qingyun: "Guess. If you get it right, I'll give you something fun."

He Zhuoming racked her brains for a long while—but she knew too few people, and her memories of the original novel had completely faded. She tried to guess a few names but couldn't come up with any, so she reluctantly gave up.

Lin Qingyun didn't mind. He set the candle aside on an empty holder and said, "Let it burn right here. When you guess, blow it out."

He Zhuoming: "I might not guess even after it burns all the way down!"

Lin Qingyun: "No need to worry. This candle burns very slowly."

"The candle is just a side matter. What I came to tell you is something else—I've found where 'Tang Shuyu' lives. We can go now."

As soon as He Zhuoming heard they were going to see the villain, she tensed up immediately, even though the villain was still just a youth now.

She brought her wooden sword, and on the way, she repeatedly urged Lin Qingyun: act on the fly, observe first, and if anything seemed off, they'd run.

After all, this grudge wasn't one that had to be settled.

As much as He Zhuoming wished she could have the police come shoot that scumbag, unfortunately this wasn't a society ruled by law—and while the male lead seemed strong now, who knew if the villain was playing possum...

Lin Qingyun was both her savior and her good friend. She couldn't let him die before his journey even properly began, turning from a would-be True Deity into a little ghost on her account.

With Lin Qingyun leading, the two walked out of the flagstone-paved streets, following a dirt path that grew increasingly remote, until they stopped before a row of low earthen houses. Once there, He Zhuoming found the surroundings increasingly familiar, and quickly recognized the young villain's dwelling.

She'd even been invited in for a drink of water back then.

He Zhuoming turned to tell Lin Qingyun, but he had already strode past her, stepping up and pushing open the ramshackle wooden door—the crooked, flimsy door wasn't well secured, and at his push it fell off its hinges entirely.

The crash made He Zhuoming jump, and she hopped over to Lin Qingyun, grabbing his sleeve.

Lin Qingyun turned back, smiling at her, his tone light: "No one's inside."

He Zhuoming's eyes went wide. She cautiously poked her head out from behind him, peering through the gaping doorway.

The place was a mess, clutter strewn every which way, and indeed, no one was there.

He Zhuoming slipped out from behind Lin Qingyun, using her wooden sword as a probe as she stepped inside, jabbing at every place that looked like it could hide a person. Only when she confirmed nobody was there did she dare walk in properly and look around, muttering, "No one, huh... Did he go out?"

As she mumbled, He Zhuoming spotted a large, dried patch of blood on the floor.

Not just on the floor—there were stains on the makeshift straw bed as well.

He Zhuoming: "Did someone come for revenge and cut him down?"

Lin Qingyun leaned lazily against the doorframe: "Maybe."

He Zhuoming cursed: "Hope someone got revenge and killed him!"

She rummaged around, poking the room to pieces with her wooden sword, almost putting a hole in the earthen wall—finally, under the bed, she found her schoolbag.

She picked it up, weighing it in her hand; it felt fairly heavy, so she quickly opened it: her books were there, her test papers too, and even her jacket was rolled up and stuffed inside.

He Zhuoming was overjoyed: "I can't believe I got everything back!"

Lin Qingyun smiled: "Looks like business has been slow for him lately. He didn't get the chance to sell it all off."

He Zhuoming: "Serves him right! Trafficking women—he should be shot!"

She pulled out the rolled-up jacket and shook it open; with a clatter, the bus card, meal card, keys, and other items wrapped inside tumbled to the floor—along with her health watch and a gold Guanyin pendant strung on a red cord.

The health watch was dead, its screen pitch black. He Zhuoming picked it up and fiddled with it, but it wouldn't turn on, so she set it aside and first put on the Guanyin pendant properly.

Seeing her put on the necklace, Lin Qingyun walked over with interest and crouched in front of her, his gaze fixed on the gleaming gold Guanyin figure swaying at her collarbone, asking, "Which True Deity is this? I've never seen it before."

The ways of praying to gods were much the same everywhere, and this world likewise had the custom of wearing small gold, silver, or jade effigies of True Deities to ward off evil.

He Zhuoming tucked the necklace into her collar, continuing to rummage through her bag as she answered him, "It's from my hometown... It's different from the True Deities here. My mom said it was blessed by a master, very efficacious—ah, my parents must be missing me so much right now. I miss them too..."

At that sore spot, He Zhuoming blinked, and tears started falling.

But the two lines of tears had only run halfway down her face when she found what she was looking for and broke into a smile: "Found it!"

From a pocket inside her bag, He Zhuoming pulled out a smartphone.

Afraid the battery was dead, she carefully pressed and held the power button.

At school, He Zhuoming always kept her phone off except during breaks. But her memories were fuzzy, and she couldn't remember whether she'd turned the phone on that day on her way home from school.

If she had, the phone would have long since died from staying on for so long.

Perhaps her luck had finally turned—after being down on her luck for so long, He Zhuoming finally caught a break: with the familiar boot animation, the phone screen lit up.

Remaining battery: 60%

He Zhuoming jumped for joy: "I really never turned it on!"