The wind swept through the leaves, bringing a rustling sound as it lifted the faint scent of blood on the ground.
A man in a black short-sleeved shirt leaned against a tree trunk.
He was tall and powerfully built, his broad shoulders wide enough to block half the tree. Muscles traced faint lines beneath sweat and blood.
He held a bent baton in his hand. Its tip was stained with thick blue fluid that dripped down the shaft and fell to the ground with soft, sticky taps.
Not far away lay a corpse.
Its skull had been smashed open, blue brain matter spilling along the cracked bone, glowing faintly in the dirt.
Its skin was eerily pale—almost translucent—blue veins visible beneath. Its ears were long and pointed, like the elves from Western fantasy novels.
Stranger still were its hands. The fingers resembled a human's, except it had six of them—the extra one mirrored the thumb.
The man lowered his head, looked for a moment, then kicked the corpse a few times. After confirming it was completely still, he finally exhaled.
The moment he relaxed, pain surged like a tide.
He frowned and glanced at his left shoulder, now regaining a faint sense of feeling.
Gritting his teeth, he pushed against the tree and slowly straightened. He turned around, ready to leave.
The next instant, his spine tightened. A tingling sensation crept from the back of his neck down his spine and into his chest.
He didn't have time to look back—his chest was suddenly pierced.
"Pfft—"
He lowered his head and saw a black, flexible appendage protruding from his heart. Blood slid along the wriggling tendril, tracing a dark red arc.
Strength drained rapidly.
The baton fell with a dull thud.
Sounds around him faded. Wind, leaves—everything dissolved into a distant hum.
Behind him, the corpse with the shattered skull was somehow slowly rising, joints twisting unnaturally.
"How… is… that… possible…"
Before the words were finished, his vision collapsed.
The world plunged into silent darkness.
————————— One Day Earlier —————————
Ding-ling-ling—
A crisp bicycle bell echoed through the old residential block as the sunset cast its last glow across the chipped walls.
Light cut into fragments through mottled glass, scattering warm hues on the ground.
A sturdy man in a black short-sleeved shirt hopped off his bicycle, exhaled, and looked ahead.
In the old street, two familiar figures stood under a streetlamp—one tall, one short—heads bowed over their phones.
Hearing the bell, they lifted their heads. Recognizing the newcomer, they waved immediately.
"Lynzi, Mouse, you're both here?"
"Yo—our great Yan finally arrived!" The tall one grinned, showing eight gleaming white teeth.
The short one chimed in, waggling his eyebrows. "You brought the stuff?"
"It's in the bag. Now who's the boss here?" Yan patted the basket on his bike.
"Get lost!" The tall one rolled his eyes. The three exchanged glances and burst into laughter.
Their cheerful voices echoed down the alley. Yan pushed his bike as the three walked shoulder to shoulder, the setting sun falling behind them.
A few elderly neighbors paused to watch them pass, smiling with an affection that seemed to recall their own youth.
After a bit of rowdy chatter, Yan propped his bike against the wall and made sure it wouldn't fall. Then, with exaggerated secrecy, he pulled out a yellow paper-wrapped box from the basket.
He handed it to Mouse with a grin. "Alright, Mouse—time to go see your mom."
"Let's go, let's go. I'm telling you, today you guys hit the jackpot—my mom made dumplings!"
"Hahaha, sounds like we're eating good tonight!"
...…
Knock knock.
A hand thudded against the door in the narrow hallway.
The short one slapped the door and exclaimed, "Mom, I'm home!"
"Coming—" answered a gentle female voice from inside.
After a moment, the door opened. A middle-aged woman stood there.
Her hair was beginning to gray, and though she wore light makeup, the fine lines on her face were still visible.
Her bright long dress glowed under the warm light. Sleeves rolled up, thick fingers still wet—clearly just finished washing her hands.
She glanced at the three boys outside, her gaze pausing two seconds longer on Mausen and Yan. Then she smiled. "Oh my, Yi Lin and Yan are here too? Come come, Mausen, go get them some slippers!"
"Auntie, no need, we can do it ourselves." Yan waved his hands quickly.
Yi Lin added with a smile, "Auntie, we might crash here tonight, hope you don't mind."
"Aiya, just treat this like your own home, right, mom?" Mausen snaked an arm around her, grinning.
"You brat—" She shook her head, helpless yet fond, then gave Yi Lin another look.
She turned and walked inside. "Come, dinner's ready! You boys came a long way, must be hungry."
The clatter of a pot lid sounded from the kitchen, accompanied by the smell of scallions and rising steam.
Mausen shot the other two a glance, kicked off his shoes, and ran upstairs with the yellow box.
Yi Lin nudged Yan and went to the kitchen. Yan bent down to change shoes and bumped right into Mausen, who barreled down again and dove into his room for unknown reasons.
Yan shook his head and headed toward the kitchen, just in time to meet Mausen's mother carrying two dishes. He rushed over. "Let me take that, Auntie."
"Oh no no, it's fine, I've got it. Go rest." She waved her hand.
"It's fine, Auntie." Yan took the plates and set them on the table.
Soon, Yi Lin brought out the third dish. The table filled with steaming dumplings, plump and round in white porcelain plates.
The aunt frowned at the dishes, then glanced toward Mausen's room.
She almost called him out—then remembered the two "guests" and decided to spare him the embarrassment. She'd settle things later.
She suddenly remembered something, went back to the kitchen, and returned with a bottle of vinegar.
"Look at me, forgetting the most important part. Dumplings need this to taste right."
Just then, Mausen walked out of his room.
He was all smiles—until he met his mother's "kind and gentle" gaze. His smile froze a little.
She gave him a sideways glare, then looked at the others. "Eat, eat—while it's hot."
The dumpling skins were thin, the filling juicy, steam fogging the window into soft light.
As the food warmed their stomachs, conversation flowed, and the mood brightened.
For a moment, the room was full of laughter.
After the meal, the boys tried to help clean up, but Auntie shooed them away. "Guests don't wash dishes. Go sit outside. I'll be done soon."
Mausen scratched his head sheepishly.
Yi Lin didn't insist. Instead he joked, "Auntie's cooking is amazing—way better than my mom's."
That finally made her laugh. As she washed dishes, she said, "Such a sweet mouth."