Chapter 2

"Zhizhi…"

Her mother's face was very white — white past describing, as if every drop of blood had been wrung out of it, not a trace of red left.

But her features hadn't changed. The same eyes, only with the brows drawn together; the same instant-noodle perm that frizzed out wild as a lion's mane the moment it wasn't tended.

Apart from the wrong color of her skin, she looked alive.

Liu Zhiyi felt dazed.

"Zhizhi…"

She took a step forward, the empty perfume bottle still dangling from one hand, the other on her hip.

Only, maybe from lying too long, or because death had taken the give out of her body, every movement set her joints creaking.

Liu Zhiyi couldn't pull her eyes away. She stared and stared at that face.

"Zhizhi."

As the word left her, she finally lost her balance and pitched to the floor.

Her arms wrenched backward, her head cranked half around, and like that — upside down, eyes locked on Liu Zhiyi — she crawled toward her.

Faster and faster. Faster and faster.

Liu Zhiyi's mind went blank.

Cat: "Plant the incense, quick!"

A shrill yowl went off beside her ear.

Liu Zhiyi came to as if startled awake. She dragged her eyes off her mother's face, turned, and stuck the three sticks into the censer.

Cat: "Don't look back."

She kept on the censer in front of her, and felt something like wind pass behind her head.

Then a hoarse but gentle voice sounded at the back of her head.

"Zhizhi."

Cat: "Okay, she's gone for now… You all right?"

Liu Zhiyi drew a breath and blinked. Whether she'd gotten ash in her eyes turning around, or it was just the body's answer to surviving a brush with death, that one blink rolled out two tears.

"How all right do you think I can be?" She found she was still pinching a stick of incense. She drew the hand back, and it was shaking.

She forced it still, pressing it down, straightened up, and didn't look back.

The cat gave a "meow." "That's normal."

Liu Zhiyi: "Normal how?"

She faced her mother's portrait head-on, eyes flicking left and right for any sign of the cat, still not daring to turn around.

"My mom…"

Liu Zhiyi paused. She couldn't be sure the woman who had twisted her head and arms and crawled across the floor like a spider was her mother.

"Why did she appear?"

Cat: "You're a lot calmer than I figured. Were you and your mom on bad terms? Doesn't really look it, though."

"Thanks for the concern, but my family's business is none of yours." Liu Zhiyi was getting testy.

"Fine, fine." The cat made a low purring sound. "It's a little bit my business, actually. To put it plainly — you're inside a game dungeon right now, and the boss of this game is probably your mom."

Liu Zhiyi was quiet for a moment. "Why did I end up in a game?"

Cat: "My guess is you wanted to see your mom."

Liu Zhiyi paused. A lot of films and shows flashed through her head.

"An obsession?"

"Right!" the cat said. "That's basically it."

Liu Zhiyi: "My obsession brings my mom's soul back?"

Somehow a thread of hope rose in her — then her mind kept replaying that twisted shape crawling across the floor, and the fear came back.

Cat: "Strictly speaking, that's not your mom's soul."

Her taut nerves went slack all at once, but she felt hollow too; that unaccountable thread of hope guttered out like a small flame meeting water.

Liu Zhiyi: "…Then what is it?"

Cat: "Didn't I just say? Your obsession."

Her head was still muddled. She'd spent last night at the hospital without sleeping, come home to this, and thinking now was almost painful.

"Just say it straight, don't go around in circles. My head's spinning."

Cat: "Such a hassle…"

Along with the complaint, the cat let out a few mrows.

Cat: "Why don't you go find your starting item first? All the background's written out clear enough on it."

Liu Zhiyi forced herself alert and dug around the living room. The fright had held her taut before; now that she'd loosened, her eyelids were fighting to shut.

Liu Zhiyi: "Where's the starting item usually?"

Cat: "How would I know? That one's for you to ask yourself."

Its cagey way of talking was wearing on her.

"Could you please put it a little more plainly? I've barely shut my eyes since yesterday — there really are things my brain can't work out right now."

Cat: "Fine, fine."

The cat meowed a few times and began, slowly, to lay it out.

About two weeks ago, uncanny events had broken out across the Yiling area, over a wide stretch.

Cat: "You've read ghost stories, right? By some of our folk beliefs, people turn into ghosts after they die — repay a kindness, avenge a wrong."

Liu Zhiyi nodded.

Cat: "But these events are different. It's not the dead turning into ghosts that causes them — it's certain feelings and obsessions of the living. And these events, the authorities call them, all told, game dungeons."

The leap was a bit much; Liu Zhiyi listened blankly.

Cat: "…You read novels? Know the idea of the return of spiritual energy?"

That much Liu Zhiyi did know. She nodded.

Cat: "What's happening now is pretty much an uncanny awakening. And those ghosts and monsters, people dream them up — whatever kind of ghost you picture, that's the kind reality throws up. Does that make sense?"

Liu Zhiyi got it.

Cat: "Of course it's not that everyone gets whatever they imagine. The stronger a person's feelings and obsessions, the higher the odds the ghost turns up — someone like you, who's lost the closest kin, say."

The cat went on: "Because you think of your mom, your obsession made your mom appear as the dungeon's boss. You have to clear the dungeon to get out of it."

Liu Zhiyi noticed it kept using those two words, game and dungeon.

"This doesn't feel to me like playing a game."

Cat: "That's because you haven't found your starting item. That thing turns parts of the dungeon into data — shows your health bar, walks you through the basics… gives you a clearer read on yourself and on the dungeon."

Liu Zhiyi stood where she was and thought for a while, roughly untangling the logic of what the cat had said.

"This dungeon came out of my obsession. From what you said just now…"

She pushed her tired brain to work.

"Only I know where the starting item is?"

The cat meowed several times over, as if it too saw that some things were hard to spell out.

"Basically — since the dungeon grew from your obsession, the starting item's inside your dungeon, so of course only you know where. The usual advice is to follow your heart; you'll find it…"

Her heart?

Liu Zhiyi thought about it. She was worn out, and wanted nothing but to drop into bed and sleep.

She looked at the couch in the living room, the blanket balled up on it — from her vigil two nights ago, not yet cleared away.

Liu Zhiyi went over and lifted the blanket, and in the dip of the cushion saw a child's smartwatch.

The cat gave a mrow that sounded like a laugh.

"Looks like that's your starting item."

It struck Liu Zhiyi as absurd, but the only thing around that looked like an item and had a screen was this child's smartwatch.

With nothing to lose, she strapped the watch to her wrist and fumbled it on.

A cheerful children's jingle rang out as it booted, and a notification popped up on the little screen.

The heading read: Notice of the Yiling District People's Government.

Liu Zhiyi blinked, not expecting a government notice in a situation like this.

So she opened it.

Recently, multiple cases of resurgent uncanny events have appeared within our district. In order to dispose of these uncanny events in a scientific and precise manner and to safeguard the lives and safety of all our citizens, the relevant matters are hereby announced as follows:

1. Please act in accordance with the guidance of your starting item.

2. Please keep your emotions in check and avoid large swings of mood; intense fear may draw ghosts and monsters.

…

The next few items said much the same as the cat had.

Liu Zhiyi's fear, too, eased a good deal once she'd read the notice.

It also explained that a dungeon is sealed off from the outside world, and that the fastest way to find how to break it is to get a clear grasp of your own obsession.

Liu Zhiyi: "If it's sealed off from outside, how does the government's notice get in?"

Cat: "Because the game plug-in is something the government inserted."

Liu Zhiyi: "Game plug-in?"

The cat let out a long meow, like a sigh.

"When the uncanny events first woke up, there was nothing. Picture it: you're walking home from work and run smack into a ghost for no reason, and you can't work out why, or how to get out of it. What happens then?"

Liu Zhiyi: "…Most likely I'd die."

Cat: "As for turning it into a game…"

Having started the sentence, the cat went quiet a few seconds, probably working out how to put it.

"When you play a game, don't quests get handed out, items explained, some things turned into numbers, so you've got a clear goal?"

Liu Zhiyi caught its meaning.

Cat: "Not everyone's that good at noticing things and gathering clues. Turning the uncanny events into a horror game raises an ordinary person's chances of surviving."

It sounded very impressive.

This official hand in things let Liu Zhiyi see a sliver of hope.

After what she'd just been through — above all seeing her own mother crawl in that twisted, horrible way.

She was in no mood, and didn't want to play any horror game.

Liu Zhiyi: "Can I call the police?"

She tapped at the smartwatch screen, but found the government notice had a mandatory viewing time — she couldn't close it before the time was up.

Cat: "The uncanny awakening's only been going a short while. There are things even the authorities haven't figured out. At this stage, inserting the game add-on is the most they can manage."

Liu Zhiyi stared blankly at the smartwatch.

Cat: "I can't hold on much longer either."

A zzt of static crept into the cat's voice.

"You lit the incense, right? While there's still time, get some sleep and get your strength back, so you can go on clearing the game."

Liu Zhiyi turned her head. The incense had only just been lit, yet a small length of it had already burned away.

Cat: "The safe room's on a timer too."

Safe room?

Another new word.

The thought surfaced, then gave way to a long blank; her eyelids grew heavier and heavier.

The scare from the ghost so like her mother had kept her awake a few minutes; now the tiredness came down like a breaking wave and knocked her flat onto the couch.

How long has it been since I slept?

Two days? Three?

Liu Zhiyi forced her eyes open, but only got them to a slit.

Her mother's face flashed through her mind, and the face of her grandmother lying in the hospital bed.

So tired.

Liu Zhiyi blinked, and felt, faintly, something warm slide from the corner of her eye.

Mom.

---

Liu Zhiyi opened her eyes.

Still fuzzy, she stared dully at the long tube light on the wall.

Was the light a little dim?

Liu Zhiyi remembered turning it on.

Any other time, this lamp might not blaze the place bright, but it lit the living room at least.

Now, though the lamp was on, the dark was almost solid, driving the light back until it huddled onto the couch beneath the tube.

The light that should have spread out had become a single column falling on her, like a spotlight; beyond it, pitch black — not even the outlines of the furniture to be seen.

Liu Zhiyi rubbed her neck and got up from the couch.

The couch really wasn't comfortable to sleep on, and she'd been so tired she'd dropped straight into a blackout on it, in a bad position at that.

Awake now and clear-headed, she found her whole neck stiff.

She remembered a cat talking to her before she'd passed out, but she must have been too worn out — the conversation was like something behind gauze, not quite real.

Soon, as she came fully out of her waking daze,

her heart began to race, and sweat started to bead on her forehead.

The fear she hadn't felt this sharply even coming home from the hospital, dead on her feet — all of it surfaced now.

So exhaustion could mask fear too.

Something else was lit in the dark.

The two-faced Buddha.

The statue gave off a dim, warm glow, but it wavered bright and dark like a guttering candle in the wind.

The three slender sticks of incense before it each carried a point of flame.

The points brightened, then dimmed, three thin threads of white smoke curling up.

Liu Zhiyi watched the sticks — the flames flickering, the incense growing shorter.

It was as if someone were blowing on the tips to make them burn faster.

Liu Zhiyi jerked back a step, wanting to put distance between herself and the statue — but one more step back would take her into the dark.

For a moment she was caught, unable to go forward or back.

Turning it over, she caught sight of the child's smartwatch on her wrist, and thought of the cat.

Liu Zhiyi went "meow." "Kitty, kitty, are you there?"

Quiet. Very quiet.

Her home was in the old part of the city; even deep at night it never went so still that all she could hear was her own breathing.

Liu Zhiyi rubbed her arms, gooseflesh rising all over them.

She meowed several more times, and getting no answer, felt both afraid and let down.

Realizing she might have only herself to rely on now, she gave up on the cat and fiddled with the smartwatch on her wrist.

The cat had told her the safe room was timed, and looking at the incense burning down so fast before the statue, it took only a little thought to join the dots — once the incense was gone, the safe room would likely stop working.

And before it burned out, she had to work out what she needed to do to leave this game dungeon.

The smartwatch was still on the government notice.

Liu Zhiyi pressed the "read" option at the very bottom, and the screen popped up another alert.

[Novice Task 1: Welcome home, to your sweet home.]