To be honest, while candles weren't expensive, once they became a daily necessity, Zong Yan suddenly understood why the ancients were so loath to burn lamp oil.
It was a luxury.
Furthermore, failing to resolve the electricity issue made daily life incredibly inconvenient. On the second day of her summer break, Zong Yan finally prepared to improve her living conditions.
The meat and vegetables Grandma Wang had given her would spoil if left much longer, and she didn't want to waste the old woman's kindness.
But what could she do?
She didn't know how to siphoning electricity; the man who possessed that skill had moved away long ago. Should she move out as well and stop living here?
Impossible.
Zong Yan would never abandon this place for any reason, not unless she died.
Was there another way? What else could generate power...
Generate power?
Zong Yan’s eyes widened. She remembered.
***
Si Jiang was lying by the door, sleeping.
The long chain extended all the way from the inner room to the sink. He was curled up on the floor, clutching a blanket Zong Yan had given him. Since it was the height of summer, he wore a short-sleeved shirt and shorts, even though he stayed in the cool shade of the bathroom.
His once-healthy tan had faded back to its original fair complexion due to the prolonged lack of sunlight. The definition of the muscles on his arms and legs had softened, shrinking considerably.
Si Jiang’s breathing was heavy. He had only just closed his eyes when his body jolted, startled awake by a heart tremor. He opened his eyes to look for the candle; seeing it still lit didn't immediately put him at ease. He pressed his head against the gap under the door, listening intently. He heard faint footsteps outside.
It was Zong Yan.
Only then did he exhale, curling back into a ball with his blanket in exhaustion.
Ten minutes later, he snapped his eyes open again and repeated the entire cycle.
His body and mind had long since reached their breaking point, yet he was unable to fall into a deep sleep. With his childhood trauma reawakened and being held in a similarly confined environment, Si Jiang’s mental state was like a candle flame—sensitive, fragile, and flickering on the verge of extinction.
He had to confirm he was safe before he dared to close his eyes.
What constituted safety?
Perhaps the person who constantly came to see him, the one who brought him light, was the symbol of safety. As long as he could sense Zong Yan’s presence, the whispers in his ear that constantly egged him on would briefly vanish. Only then could Si Jiang find a moment’s respite, close his eyes, and sleep for a while.
His eyelids felt as heavy as if they were weighed down by tons of lead. Si Jiang’s consciousness gradually drifted.
When he opened his eyes again, the sound of clinking glasses filled his ears. An elegant piano melody flowed through the hall. Suddenly, the space was filled with countless people, all dressed in formal attire, groomed to perfection, chatting and laughing.
Before he could react, a pair of hands pressed against his back and gave him a forceful shove forward.
"Si Jiang, this is Uncle Yang, your parents' business partner."
Si Jiang looked up blankly. A somewhat portly middle-aged man was looking at him with a smile, seemingly waiting for him to speak. He had no idea what was happening.
It wasn't until his hand was pinched hard that he spoke subconsciously: "Uncle Yang."
"Please excuse him, President Yang. Our boy isn't very sensible yet."
Another tall man stood beside him. He glared at Si Jiang with displeasure before donning a smile to continue the conversation with the middle-aged man.
Si Jiang stood there stupidly, his head spinning.
Many more people followed. He acted purely on instinct, repeating "Uncle so-and-so" and "Elder so-and-so" like a parrot.
Once this check-in style ritual ended and the surroundings quieted down, he was dragged into a corner. A palm adorned with an exquisite manicure slapped his face.
"Si Jiang, what is wrong with you today? Do you want to embarrass your parents?"
Si Jiang covered his stinging cheek and said, "I didn't."
"How can you say you didn't? The people who just came are key clients for our company's development; some are even government officials. By wearing that sour face, are you trying to make them feel unwelcome?"
The shrill voice made his head throb painfully. He shook his head. "I wasn't wearing a sour face. I just don't feel well."
"What do you mean, 'don't feel well'? You're 'unwell' every single day. In a setting like this, even if you were dying, you would still have to act like the young master of the Si family should!"
The woman walked away in anger, leaving him to reflect on his actions for a moment before telling him to go to the restroom to fix his face and return to the hall.
Si Jiang stood in silence. Once his face stopped burning so fiercely, he avoided the crowd and walked into the restroom.
He cupped some water, splashed it on his face, and looked up into the mirror.
The reflection was a youth with hair neatly styled with gel. He wore a small formal suit with a light blue tie. He was handsome, but his cheeks bore an unnatural flush, and his expression held a gloominess that didn't fit his age.
Si Jiang stared coldly at himself in the mirror. The youth inside stared back with the same gaze.
Suddenly, the overhead light flickered.
Si Jiang instinctively gripped the sink. He looked up at the malfunctioning light in panic, then back at his reflection.
At some point, the youth’s face had pressed against the glass, wearing a grotesque smile.
He opened his mouth and said, one word at a time: "Si Jiang, you will never get rid of me."
"Rot with me."
As the words fell, his face began to peel off in chunks like rotting meat, falling into Si Jiang’s hands.
Terrified, Si Jiang threw them away and scrambled back, falling to the floor.
But the person in the mirror would not let him go. Hands reached through the glass, and with a greedy, malicious smile, the figure crawled out of the mirror inch by inch!
"Don't come over here!"
Si Jiang shouted with false bravado, his body shaking uncontrollably with fear.
"Hehehehe."
The rotting figure drew closer and closer. Si Jiang’s heart was pounding in his throat; he was going mad!
*Knock, knock, knock.*
There was a sudden knock at the door.
Si Jiang looked toward it as if finding a lifeline, wanting to scream for help. But his throat was so tight with fear that he couldn't make a sound.
"Si Jiang, are you in there? Open the door."
"What kind of tantrum are you throwing in a place like this? People are already asking where you went. You'd better get out here soon."
"Do you hear me?"
The person outside knocked again impatiently. Receiving no response, they grew even angrier.
"Si Jiang, what have we ever done to wrong you that you have to be so willful now? You've lived a life of luxury since you were a child, getting whatever you wanted. You were born in Rome—do you know how many people can't even afford to eat? All of this was earned through your parents' hard work. Since you've enjoyed the benefits, take responsibility and pay the price. In social settings, play the part of the Si family's young master properly. Don't throw tantrums."
"Be in the hall in ten minutes. I'll settle the score with you when we get home."
The sound of high heels gradually faded away.
Si Jiang reached out toward the door in despair. *Mom, don't go, please save me...*
"Ha, the young master of the Si family."
"What a happy young master of the Si family."
The ghastly youth, bearing a face identical to his own, now stood right before him. A hand crawling with maggots reached out toward Si Jiang.
*No, no! Someone, please save me—*
The desperate cry died in his chest before it could be uttered.
"Si Jiang, we will be together forever."
"No!"
"Si Jiang?"
A hand pressed against his forehead.
Si Jiang snapped awake, looking at the hand in terror.
It was thin but strong. Though it bore many scars, there was no sign of rot, let alone disgusting maggots.
"You have a fever," Zong Yan said with a frown.
She had entered at some point, her clothes covered in dust. She wore a glove on the hand that wasn't touching him.
"How is the body of a rich person so fragile?"
To get a fever after lying on the floor for just a few days in the middle of summer... If her constitution were that poor, she would have died long ago.
Zong Yan felt that the person she had brought back was indeed a troublemaker.
"Wait here. I'll go see if there's any fever medicine."
Rich people probably needed medicine when they got sick, right? When she was sick, she usually just toughed it out and slept; usually, she'd be fine. But looking at Si Jiang’s pale, fragile face, she thought it better to give him medicine.
"No, don't leave me alone."
To her surprise, as soon as she started to get up, Si Jiang frantically grabbed her wrist, refusing to let go.
"I don't want medicine. I'm not sick."
"Don't go. Don't leave me here alone."
"There... there are... there are ghosts..."
Zong Yan doubted her ears. "You say there's what here?"
This room was only a few square meters; you could cross it in a few steps. She had lived here for so many years—ghosts?
"Si Jiang, stop acting up."
She was becoming a bit impatient.
But those words suddenly triggered the man on the floor. He cried out in a breakdown, "I'm not acting up! I'm not lying!"
"There really are ghosts! He was just in front of me, he wanted to kill me!"
"I beg of you, Zong Yan, don't abandon me. I'll do anything you want."
Zong Yan watched him coldly. She watched him cry until he was gasping for breath, his once-proud soul shattered and pathetic.
The impatience in her heart quietly dissipated, replaced by a strange sense of satisfaction.
Zong Yan didn't know what this feeling was; she only knew it was a foreign yet comfortable pleasure. It was as if she finally possessed the power to control a life.
And so, amidst Si Jiang’s anxiety, she knelt down.
"As long as you are obedient and don't run around, I won't abandon you."
"Can you do that?"
Si Jiang nodded like a chick pecking at grain.
Zong Yan stroked the scar on his face with satisfaction, as if caressing a beloved trophy. She told Si Jiang to let go.
Si Jiang hesitated for a long time before timidly trying to release her. He stared at her movements with intense nerves. If Zong Yan showed any sign of leaving, he would surely pounce on her.
However, Zong Yan pulled a key from her pocket and unlocked the chain that had been around his neck for so long.
*Clang.*
The metal hit the floor.
Si Jiang looked on blankly, unsure of what Zong Yan meant. Was she not going to keep him locked up?
Zong Yan stood in the center of the doorway and spoke to him seriously.
"Si Jiang, I've always wanted a pet."
"I won't give up on it or abandon it. I will learn how to raise it."
"Its job is to keep me company, waiting for me to come home every day. No one but me can take it away."
"Walk over here, and you will be my pet. Stay inside, and I will still give you candles regularly."
"Now, what is your choice?"
***
| Chinese | English | Notes/Explanation |
| :--- | :--- | :--- |
| 罗马 | Rome | Used in the idiom "born in Rome" (出生在罗马), meaning born into extreme wealth/privilege. |
| 云南白药 | Yunnan Baiyao | A famous traditional Chinese hemostatic medicine. |
| 司家少爷 | Young Master of the Si family | Si Jiang's social title. |
