Chapter 28 - The Weight of the Abyss
I cannot find the words to describe the sensation that washed over me upon hearing those words. My mind was a chaotic slurry of emotions, though the primary sensation was the urgent, pulsing pressure in my bladder. I was terrified that if I let my emotions get the better of me, I would lose control right then and there in the hallway.
*But it’s about time, you old ghost,* I thought with a mix of exasperation and relief. *If you’re really that powerful, you should have stepped up and taken care of me from the start!*
Just as I was considering retreating downstairs to find another restroom, my roommate emerged from the shadows of the bathroom. He moved with a slow, deliberate gait, but the moment his eyes landed on me, he jumped, a look of genuine surprise flickering across his face. "Why are you up?" he asked, his voice losing that chilling edge it had possessed moments ago.
He hurried toward me, his head bowed slightly as if in apology. "I was just using the restroom. I didn't leave you. Please, don't cry."
It was baffling. How could someone so formidable become so docile and vulnerable the moment he faced me? It was as if he were a completely different entity when we were alone.
"I’m not blaming you..." I muttered, shifting uncomfortably. "But... can you stay with me while I go?"
The fact that he had been speaking to someone—or something—inside meant that the room wasn't empty. Without him standing guard, I didn't have the courage to step inside and relieve myself. I pulled out my phone, clicked on the flashlight, and handed it to him. He took it and shielded me as we walked in, following my every step with a focused, almost dorky intensity.
As I finally let go, a faint, rhythmic sound drifted from one of the closed stalls behind me. It was a sob—soft, intermittent, and heavy with misery. Under any other circumstances, I would have been scared to death. This was the classic setup for a horror movie; a vengeful spirit was surely about to crawl out from under the door. But because my roommate was standing there, looking incredibly solemn while shining the flashlight directly at my business, the atmosphere of terror was completely ruined.
"Can you point that somewhere else?" I hissed. "I can't go while you're staring like that."
Obediently, he turned the light upward, illuminating his own face from below. In the reflection of the grimy mirror, he looked like a ghoul from a campfire story.
"On second thought, just keep it on me..." I sighed.
I finished my business amidst the backdrop of the sobbing entity in the stall. When we finally stepped out into the hall, I gave my roommate’s sleeve a sharp tug. "Who was that? You scared them into tears."
He wrapped an arm around my shoulder, guiding me back toward the ward. "Don't worry about it. Just go back to sleep."
Tucked back into his embrace, I drifted off into a surprisingly deep slumber. There was a perverse sense of satisfaction in knowing that whatever was in that bathroom—likely one of the monsters that had been tormenting me—had been reduced to a blubbering mess by my roommate. It felt like a long-overdue vengeance. I had been bullied like a dog for weeks; it was about time someone stood up for me. If anyone dared to breathe in my direction now, I’d just have to shed a few tears and watch my roommate erase them from existence.
Still, a question lingered in the back of my mind. "Where is the Abyss?" I asked sleepily.
My roommate, who had been gently smoothing my hair, opened his eyes. "Do you want to go there?"
I shook my head violently. He closed his eyes again and whispered, "Then sleep."
I was discharged the next day. Jin Mu’s disappearance—or rather, his gruesome end—was enough to keep the university administration in a state of panic for a long time. After Old Chu’s death, our entire floor had been offered guaranteed admission to the graduate program in exchange for our silence. Now, with Jin Mu dying right under my nose, I figured I could probably negotiate for a direct-entry PhD.
It seemed that surviving a catastrophe really did bring unexpected rewards. Not only could I continue my studies in peace, but I also had a supernatural bodyguard. My roommate had promised to "kill everyone" if I cried again. I felt as though I were wearing an invisible suit of armor, a Golden Bell Shield that made me look upon the world with newfound arrogance.
However, my curiosity was a persistent itch I couldn't stop scratching. I needed to know what the "Abyss" was. I called Lu Daoshi to pick his brain.
"The Abyss?" Lu Daoshi’s voice sounded distracted over the line, followed by the rhythmic clicking of a pen. "In what context?"
"I don't know... I just saw it in a book. Something about 'casting someone into the Abyss.' Are there any historical references for that?"
I heard the rustle of pages turning. "There are, but they aren't Chinese. The 'Abyss' is a Judeo-Christian concept. In English, it’s the *Abyss*."
"And what does it mean?"
"Hell. The place where souls are judged after death. It’s the realm where God exiled Lucifer to rule as king."
My heart skipped a beat. Was my roommate actually Satan?
The idea felt absurd. It didn't fit at all. If this was a fantasy novel, making him Lucifer would be so cliché. Besides, my roommate had recently picked up a thick Northeast accent from somewhere. A version of Lucifer who spoke like a villager from Harbin? I’d rather die of embarrassment.
I spent the afternoon digging through records, but the pieces didn't fit. Lucifer was supposed to be breathtakingly beautiful, but he was also Western. My roommate had the classic features of a Central Plains native, albeit one with a hint of Mongolian heritage. His "skills" were also inconsistent. Teleportation seemed a bit low-level, and turning into a cat to spy on Ren Xing’s house didn't exactly scream "Prince of Darkness." And then there was the smell—that lingering scent of raw fish. I’d never heard of Lucifer smelling like a fish market; surely he’d smell of sulfur and brimstone.
I called Lu Daoshi again. "Based on your... superstitious worldview, how much of these myths do you actually believe?"
Lu Daoshi replied with his usual arrogance. "Two-thirds of ancient sorcery and Daoist rites are grounded in truth. Meanwhile, eighty to ninety percent of modern science is fundamentally flawed."
"And the world-building in these myths?"
"There are shadows of the truth there, though they’ve been exaggerated over time."
I remained conflicted. What exactly was the entity living in my dorm? The only clue I had was the "Abyss." If being cast into it was a supreme punishment, was my roommate its master? If he wasn't Lucifer, perhaps he was the primordial entity upon which the legend of Lucifer was based—an ancient, eldritch god of the void.
I had certainly picked an extraordinary boyfriend. But even an extraordinary boyfriend couldn't protect me from my own bad luck.
The moment I stepped back into the dormitory, I was reminded that I was still being watched. In the mailroom on the first floor, there was an unaddressed envelope with my name and room number scribbled hastily on the front. It wasn't even sealed.
Inside was an oil painting. It had been torn from a sketchbook, no larger than the palm of my hand. The paint had been squeezed directly from the tubes and smeared onto the paper in thick, frantic globs. But the subject was unmistakable.
It was a person, perched precariously on a window ledge. Behind them, a suffocating, sprawling darkness reached out like grasping claws.
It was me, from last night.
Ever since my roommate moved in and I had foolishly moved into Old Chu’s old room, things had spiraled out of control. I’d had chances to walk away, but my obsession with Old Chu’s death had only led me deeper into the labyrinth. This painting was a warning. I had overstepped. My roommate had made his threats, but "they" were striking back, reminding me that they were always watching. My confidence crumbled. My roommate could protect my body, but he couldn't dispel the shadows hanging over my soul.
I wanted to leave, to change dorms and put this all behind me. I had the leverage to negotiate with the school, but I had nothing to offer "them."
Then there was Ren Xing. I went to his place to pack my things, intending to move back to the dorm. Ren Xing had been exhausted lately, obsessed with finding the missing girl, Chun Xiao. He spent his days scouring telephone poles for advertisements and visiting "miracle doctors" who claimed to treat infertility. He barely had time to sleep.
"I can't stay here," I told him. I was afraid, and more importantly, my roommate had threatened him. According to Ren Xing, the warning had been quite specific: *'I can give you power, status, money, luck, and even longevity—or I can take them all away. It depends on how far away you get.'*
But Ren Xing didn't seem to care. "I'm a cop," he said, reaching out to gently ruffle my hair. "I can't just hand a citizen over to a criminal element."
Ren Xing had always been a bit of a rogue, constantly teasing me and making inappropriate jokes about my "scent." I’d always assumed he was just messing with me. But seeing him so earnest, willing to stand his ground against a literal god for my sake, I realized he might actually care for me. He was willing to forfeit everything—power, money, even his life—just to stay by my side.
Moved by his devotion, I stayed to help him paint his walls. It was a losing battle. Wherever I stayed, mold seemed to bloom with unnatural ferocity. Ren Xing’s walls were covered in a sickening dark green fuzz, and the ivy outside had grown so thick it completely obscured the windows. Even the wooden furniture was sprouting mushrooms that regrew the moment they were harvested.
By ten o'clock, I was finished painting and decided to stay the night. Just as I was settling in, a scratching sound echoed from the door.
My skin crawled. A scratching sound in a damp, empty, decaying house at midnight... it was too much. I couldn't catch a break.
But then I realized it sounded like Xiao Hei, the cat. I breathed a sigh of relief and hurried to open the door. The hallway was empty. No cat, no monster.
Instead, sitting in the middle of the corridor, was a steaming, fragrant bowl of duck blood vermicelli soup.
