Chapter 22

The rib-chopping stopped.

—Tock.

She heard a heel strike tile.

The sound came from the left ear-cup — a bit far off, not like the living room.

Liu Zhiyi waited a few seconds; she didn't dare move, or peer in through the gap in the door.

She only heard a couple more "tock"s, the volume unchanged — still in the kitchen, then.

She was getting the hang of the headphones now: like playing a shooter, judging where the enemy was by the left-right channels and the loudness.

After a while.

—Thud.

Liu Zhiyi lifted her head at once and, timing it with the next thud, quickly pushed the door and squeezed in through the gap.

Because she could hear only "mama's" sounds, not her own, Liu Zhiyi placed every step with care.

That was the headphones' drawback.

And the most maddening part: she found that even inside the flat, without the headphones she couldn't make out what was going on in the kitchen.

Luckily she knew the layout of home well, so there was no bumping into furniture and making a noise.

Liu Zhiyi crawled behind the couch first.

The living room had light, but only the little desk lamp beside the couch was on — the one she'd bought in college, for her desk.

Her mother had been thrifty in life.

She hadn't expected this "mama" to inherit the habit too.

As it was, the lamp being on made little difference; it couldn't even light the whole couch.

Liu Zhiyi crawled forward a stretch and heard running water in the kitchen — washing vegetables, probably.

She felt her way toward the room on the left. Luckily not much was piled at the master-bedroom door — maybe when she'd been clearing out her mother's things she'd unconsciously avoided the master bedroom, and heaped it all elsewhere…

As she crawled.

She heard the glug of bubbling water, then a pop, and finally a plop, plop…

A smell peculiar to boiling meat spread through the air.

Blanching the ribs?

The thought sprang into Liu Zhiyi's mind.

She turned her head. The kitchen was bright, the orange light wrapped in white steam, and dimly she could make out an apron-clad back busy at the stove.

Something moved in Liu Zhiyi's chest, a sour ache spreading up her throat; she quickly turned away.

However many times it happened, "mama's" doing certain things would still set her feelings churning.

She sped up her hands and crawled all the way to the master-bedroom door.

That crawl was pure misery — every so often she had to take off the headphones to hear her own breathing, then put them back on to check what "mama" was doing in the kitchen.

The door was right in front of her now; the trouble was that it was shut. But this kind of round knob could be turned with clothes wrapped around it to keep the sound down.

Liu Zhiyi propped herself up and wrapped her coat around the knob — but the instant her fingers gripped it, they brushed a necklace.

The moment she touched it, the necklace slid off and dropped to the floor.

This was bad.

After she'd graduated and started working, her mother had mostly stopped minding her late nights.

Liu Zhiyi had all but forgotten that, to catch her coming home late, her mother used to hang a necklace on the knob.

Without a thought Liu Zhiyi spun and dropped flat.

—Bang.

Flat on the floor, the corner of her eye caught a cleaver stuck in the door.

"Mama": "…Zhizhi, home this late again."

Knowing there was no use hiding now, Liu Zhiyi scrambled up on all fours and ran for the couch.

She heard a whoosh in the air — the headphones amplifying the sound of "mama's" movement.

Liu Zhiyi realized "mama" had probably raised her arm, so she ducked down under the coat rack.

—Tock.

The cleaver chopped into the coat rack.

The hangers and clothes it shook loose rained down over her; without thinking she snatched up a fistful and flung them at "mama."

Honestly, she didn't think she could outrun "mama."

If there were no limits, with "mama's" power to blink up onto the ceiling, she'd have no way to escape.

But after she squeezed out from under the coat rack — even after stumbling — "mama" hadn't caught up.

Liu Zhiyi turned her head and found "mama" following behind, at a distance neither near nor far.

She ran fast, "mama" went fast; she ran slow, "mama" went slow — eerily holding a parallel with her.

Had the task updated again?

By the look of "mama," her speed had been limited again.

Liu Zhiyi slowed her steps, and once she saw "mama" slow too, she shook her wrist and looked at the watch face.

The tools tab had gained a little hanger icon.

The blue hanger in the icon was mottled, half its plastic skin peeled away.

And "mama" was gripping one exactly like it.

[The Clothes-Hanger That Can't Hit You: faced with a naughty, mischief-making child, a parent always has to fall back on certain special teaching methods.]

The sight of the blue hanger brought back all the times as a child she'd been chased around and "taught a lesson" with a hanger in her mother's hand.

At six she'd been a real terror — a proper little brat, in today's word: climbing trees to catch bugs and scare people, chasing the neighbors' pregnant ewe back in the countryside, yanking puppies' tails…

Then her mother would come charging out with a hanger, chase her a good two li, and still not catch her.

[Use this hanger and no one — no person, no ghost — can catch you. But once it's used, the next time you meet, you're certain to be caught.]

[After all, a child who's made trouble and slipped away from mama always comes home in the end — doesn't she?]

Liu Zhiyi: "…"

Cat: "…Your childhood was really something."

Liu Zhiyi stood at one corner of the couch, both hands braced on the armrest, panting, her eyes fixed without a blink on "mama" across from her.

They went around the couch, her running and "mama" chasing — twelve laps of it.

It stirred up quite a few of Liu Zhiyi's memories of being chased by her mother as a child.

"Mama" seemed to sense something was off too, and gave the hanger in her hand a shake.

The hanger clung to "mama's" hand like a magnet.

But even with the hanger, she couldn't stay completely still, because "mama" would throw the cleaver.

This couldn't go on, Liu Zhiyi thought; sooner or later she'd run out of strength.

Even if "mama" couldn't catch her for now, she still couldn't get into the master bedroom.

"Mama" hanging the necklace on the knob had confirmed for Liu Zhiyi that her idea of going back to the master bedroom was right.

Unwilling as she was to admit it, when it came to knowing the obsession, "mama" clearly understood what Liu Zhiyi's obsession was better than she did.

It was funny, really — her own obsession had spawned this dungeon, and she herself didn't know what that obsession was.

Now she had to find a way to shake "mama" and get into the master bedroom.

And she'd have to work in a time gap, or she'd shake "mama" one moment and run into a "reunion" in the master bedroom the next — and given how the hanger worked, she doubted she'd be able to run at all.

Turn it over as she might, for the moment Liu Zhiyi couldn't think where to run.

Back in primary school, when "mama" chased her, how had she run?

Liu Zhiyi cast her mind back.

First, it seemed, she had to circle around in front of her mother — better to bait her into chasing a stretch.

That part Liu Zhiyi had already done; she stole a glance at "mama" across from her — and she'd run more than a stretch, too, which had "mama"… very angry.

Then, in one breath, dash out the door.

Liu Zhiyi hesitated a few seconds, then chose after all to follow the primary-school memory and bolt out the security door, putting the headphones on as she went.

She heard the "tock, tock" of the footsteps behind her never pause, staying right on her heels, and all at once she understood a little why her primary-school self had circled in front of her mother before running out.

Because when she was angry, "mama" would stick close behind and chase without letting up.

Liu Zhiyi ran out the unit door first; to save her strength she didn't run fast, but on the turns she'd put on a sudden burst.

Because of the hanger, "mama's" speed was held to the same level as hers — and when she sped up, "mama" would keep her old speed out of inertia for about a second, which let Liu Zhiyi open some distance.

Of course, "mama's" fury climbed another notch; Liu Zhiyi saw that "mama's" hair had frizzed out completely.

Once she reckoned she'd opened enough of a gap, she ran for the other building — Unit 5.

Old-complex buildings weren't laid out as neatly as new ones; several blocks were jammed right up close, and the one she'd picked was right beside hers.

Unlike Unit 6, where Liu Zhiyi lived, Unit 5 had a small raised platform — the lower two floors were shops, so the ground-level platform lined up with the third-floor stairwell landing of Unit 6.

Liu Zhiyi ran two laps around the platform, and once she was sure "mama's" attention was fully on her — angrier and angrier, the cleaver-throwing much more frequent — she put on another burst around half the building, then jumped up onto the railing at the platform's edge.

Since she'd started working, it had been a long time since Liu Zhiyi had done anything this dangerous.

But the instant she vaulted onto the railing, the old memory seemed to wake in her body; it was as if she were back in primary school, back in that afternoon of being chased by her mother.

A light push off the railing, her gaze sweeping the sky, then turning toward the stairwell.

Then her feet came down on the cement floor; she rolled forward with the momentum, clapped a hand over her mouth, and tipped back against the stairwell wall.

And then she'd hear a run of "tock, tock, tock."

"Mama": "Zhizhi!"

Just like before, just like primary school.

"Mama" hadn't managed to catch her.

Hearing the "tock, tock, tock" come from far to near, along with one furious shout of Zhizhi after another, Liu Zhiyi suddenly wanted to laugh.

She didn't know why she wanted to laugh — maybe because "mama" hadn't caught her, or maybe because the image had surfaced in her mind of her mother, out of breath, chasing her with a hanger…

Going back over these memories now —

even the times in primary school when she'd slipped up and been caught, and taken a hanger-whipping — even those were memories that made her happy.

The "tock, tock, tock" receded.

Cat: "She's gone."

Liu Zhiyi said, surprised, "I can hear you through the headphones."

The cat gave a low meow and sighed.

"In the state I'm in now, I'm not really a person anymore, am I."

Liu Zhiyi was quite curious about where the cat came from.

Cat: "Don't ask — once the game's cleared, I'll tell you."

Liu Zhiyi could only press her curiosity down and stand up.

While she'd been running from "mama" she hadn't noticed, but now she measured the distance between the Unit 5 platform and the Unit 6 stairwell, turned quietly, and chose to take the stairs.

"Mama" seemed to have been driven wild with anger.

Even when Liu Zhiyi reached the door of Unit 6, she could still hear "mama's" roar echoing through the complex.

Liu Zhiyi: "So personality carries over to the dungeon boss too."

When her mother couldn't catch her in life, she'd roar like this, searching the complex for her.

Cat: "Of course — in the end it's all an outgrowth of the obsession."

Liu Zhiyi: "Then I should have plenty of time to get home."

Back in primary school Liu Zhiyi hadn't quite grasped the psychology of it; she only knew that whenever she'd made trouble and angered her mother, to avoid a whipping she had to run a lap outside and shake her off.

Her mother would search the complex in her fury for a few laps, but when she finally got home and saw her, she'd calm down for no clear reason, only smack her lightly once, and say:

"You scared me half to death — I thought you'd run off and I'd lost you."

Then she'd go on and on about how many traffickers there were out there, how much traffic, that even if you'd made trouble you mustn't go running around wild like that.

As a child Liu Zhiyi hadn't understood; she only knew that the later she got home, the less her mother would whip her.