The World in the Painting
He stared at the moody painter, trying to read something more from his expression.
But the painter had already returned to his original, distant demeanor. Calmly, he opened the lounge door and said, “Time’s up. You can leave now.”
Lu Congxing had no choice but to head back. The trip had been rushed, and it wasn’t until he met the man in person that he realized something was seriously off about Danghu’s disappearance—and his boyfriend’s attitude was even more ambiguous and hard to pin down.
Since he couldn’t get anything out of him, retreating to advance was the smarter play.
Lu Congxing followed the same path he came from, trying to return to He Zhouyan’s side. The exhibition turned out to be even bigger than he expected. Probably for aesthetic appeal, the entire layout resembled a miniature maze.
Paintings lined both sides, and many doors were installed throughout. Each door connected to another, making it impossible to find a clear, straightforward route.
True to his terrible sense of direction, Lu Congxing got completely lost after passing through just two doors.
Since nothing bad was likely to happen in the exhibit, he decided to take his time and treat it like a casual tour.
He walked through a yellow door and found two paintings inside. One of them immediately caught his attention.
A golden wheat field, and a slender boy.
For no apparent reason, he suddenly thought of that painting of an angel trapped in rose thorns. Somehow, the boy in this painting and that angel seemed like the same person.
Voices chirping with excitement rose again beside him. Lu Congxing turned his head and realized it was the same group of girls who had excitedly hugged each other earlier, gushing about how handsome the painter was.
“Master Lin’s works are so extreme. He can express warmth so vividly, but also evoke utter despair,” one girl sighed dreamily, hands cupping her face.
This painting of the ‘Wheat Field’ and the one titled ‘Captive’ were prime examples of those two extremes.
One of the girls noticed Lu Congxing looking their way. She turned and realized that her fangirl behavior had been fully witnessed by a very good-looking guy. Her face turned red with embarrassment.
Lu Congxing smiled apologetically. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to eavesdrop.”
The girl shook her head quickly and, still blushing, grabbed her friend and ran off shyly.
There were two other doors in the room—one red, one blue.
Lu Congxing thought for a moment and decided to follow the girls through the red one.
Beyond the red door wasn’t another room, but a corridor. Several paintings hung on the right side of the hallway.
The first was a mass of eyes—irises and sclera painted against a deep red background, making them appear startlingly three-dimensional.
As one walked past, it gave the unnerving sensation of being watched by a dozen pairs of eyes.
Next came grotesque, crimson mouths. Some were wide open, baring sharp white teeth; others were closed with downturned lips; and some were grinning silently with eerie, stretched mouths.
Further along was a large piece in black lines on a white background. At first glance, the tangled lines looked like chaotic scribbles, but upon closer inspection, they revealed strands of hair intertwined in a messy knot.
Anyone slightly sensitive would feel a wave of discomfort, even fear, just from looking at them.
The pastel-colored corridor now seemed much darker, eerier. If someone with a spiritual eye were to pass through, they’d instantly see strange, black mist writhing over the body-part-themed paintings.
But the average person couldn’t see it. They’d just feel a chill, maybe get goosebumps, and quicken their steps instinctively.
No one lingered in this corridor—its eerie silence proved that.
Like many antiques, paintings are excellent vessels for emotion—and for ghosts. They’re easy targets for possession, becoming cursed objects.
These cursed items are categorized into two types: those that harm life, and those that drain energy.
The former must be exorcised or sealed. As for the latter, since drained energy can naturally recover over time, they’re often left alone.
Originally, these paintings belonged to the latter category. But after sensing the pure spiritual energy radiating from Lu Congxing, they began to stir restlessly.
The malevolent ghost had split itself across the paintings, which significantly dulled its intelligence.
It simultaneously feared the traces of Bai Ze energy lingering on Lu Congxing and desperately craved his essence.
A rustling noise began to rise from the walls. The painted mouths started whispering among themselves, and the eyes blinked rapidly.
“Eat you… eat you… eat you…”
Any normal person would’ve run off in terror by now. Fear was the best catalyst for a spirit like this.
But Lu Congxing didn’t even raise an eyebrow.
He calmly assessed the situation, realizing it would be tricky to capture the ghost without damaging the paintings.
His pause only emboldened the ghost. One of the hair-themed paintings seemed to come alive, strands of resentment writhing and threatening to tear through the canvas. Invisible black mist began to seep out from the painted hair, twisting into thick cords that crept toward the unmoving boy.
The mouths began chanting louder in their varied voices: “Eat you! Eat you! Eat you!”
The first wisp of black mist wrapped around his ankle—only to be instantly consumed by ghostly fire. It felt no pain and kept coming. More black mist coiled around him.
Each time a part was burned away, a new one would coil up again. He patiently kept the restless ghostly fire under control.
Finally, the ghost couldn’t take it anymore. Most of its main body began emerging from the closest painting.
It took the form of a woman with long, tangled hair. Her neck stretched unnaturally, black hair covering her entire face. She reached out, slowly crawling out of the canvas.
Lu Congxing let out a chuckle, lifting his eyelids just enough to smirk and say,
“You look like this and didn’t even bother to pay copyright fees to Sadako?”
The malevolent ghost didn’t understand and, with a sudden lurch, its hair stood on end, transforming into sharp black spikes as it pounced toward him.
Just as both of its feet emerged completely from the painting, Lu Congxing suddenly raised a hand, and blue flames half a meter high burst into life on the ghost’s body.
Realizing too late that it had been tricked, the ghost let out a screech and tried to retreat into the painting, assuming the human wouldn’t want to damage it.
But Lu Congxing, who had already seen through its intentions, intercepted it and conjured a wall of fire to block its escape.
The ghost writhed in pain on the ground, its mouth stretched wide in a silent scream. Instead, the mouths on the painting—over a dozen of them—seemed to sense its agony and let out a collective wail of anguish. The black-and-white eyes on the canvas turned murky, streaming tears of blood.
Those tears flowed down the frame, turning into a sentient non-Newtonian fluid that crawled toward him.
In no time, the ground was stained crimson with the weeping of those eyes.
Lu Congxing remained unmoved. He intensified the attack with the ghostly fire. Just as the ghost was about to be purged, it suddenly spat out a hairpin from its hair.
It was a pink hairpin, adorned with a cute little bunny wearing a pink hood.
Lu Congxing instantly withdrew the fire, his expression shifting as he stared at the hairpin.
It belonged to one of the two girls from earlier.
He looked coldly at the human-like figure on the floor, now tangled in hair. “Where did you take them?”
A woman’s mouth on the painting curved into a smirk. “Hehehe.”
A clearly masculine mouth on the same painting spoke in a rough voice, “If you want to know, stop the fire.”
Lu Congxing didn’t move—but he didn’t increase the fire either.
He knew that giving in now would only put the two girls in greater danger.
Enraged, the malevolent ghost’s fury erupted. Every eye in the painting glared at him, and the dozen mouths began cursing in a chaotic chorus of different voices and tones.
The moment the final insult was uttered, Lu Congxing acted. He dodged a surprise attack from a strand of hair and thrust his hand into the scorched, twitching mass of hair on the ground.
With a sickening sensation, he followed his instincts and grabbed hold of something soft.
The ghost panicked. Its limbs had been burned too badly to move and stop him. All it could do was scream in helpless rage, “How—how did you know?!”
He yanked a girl out by the hand from the endless black vortex of hair. She was frozen in terror, clearly too frightened to react.
She stared blankly at Lu Congxing, then suddenly broke into tears.
“I thought—I thought I was going to die… it was so dark, so cold… I wanted… to eat you!”
The moment her voice took on that eerie tone, Lu Congxing sensed danger—but it was already too late. He had let down his guard and exposed his back.
A massive force slammed into him from behind, and half his body was instantly swallowed by the writhing hair on the ground.
In less than two seconds, everything went black.
And in the last moment before he lost his vision, he saw the girl transformed into a strange, unsettling painting. She smiled sweetly, mouthing words at him.
“Goodbye.”
. . . . .
When he opened his eyes again, he was no longer in the art exhibit.
Beside him were the anxious little fire and Yingying, who was crouched on the ground.
The moment the little fire saw him wake up, it immediately dashed over happily, transforming into a little fire dog and licking his face.
Yingying had been deeply saddened ever since the mirror ghost left, and only now had it emerged.
With a face covered in pixelated mosaics and graffiti-like eyes, it disapproved of him. “How did you get into trouble again?”
Lu Congxing could only shake his head helplessly. He gently patted the little fire on the head to calm it down.
He, too, felt helpless. Lately, he seemed to keep getting pulled into all sorts of strange and bizarre places.
This time, even a visit to the art exhibit had dragged him into the painting.
Although this world was from the painting, everything here was incredibly detailed.
It had to do with the artist who painted it. Some artists have spiritual energy—although they can’t use it, they can still unconsciously infuse it into the tips of their brushes while painting.
The world within the painting was completely separated from reality. Lu Congxing couldn’t feel the presence of the guardian demon, and his unease began to grow.
He walked forward with Yingying, and soon they came across a long stream.
On the other side was a small village, only a few dozen households, with faint signs of people.
It looked like an ordinary, almost cliched village—farming crops and fruit trees, with a large yellow dog lying lazily at the village entrance, completely indifferent to the strangers appearing across the river.
Behind him, however, was a pitch-black forest. The trees were so dense that nothing could be seen, and there wasn’t a single sound of insects or birds. It was eerily quiet, like a silent backdrop.
A voice suddenly echoed in his mind.
It was ethereal, as though it were right next to his ear.
It asked, Which side will you choose?
Author’s note:
He Zhouyan: Where’s the cub? I’ve left them here, so well-behaved and obedient, where’d they go?!