263: Chapter 263 The land is too crowded, the sea is home

Over the next three days, the temperature in Jiangcheng soared to thirty-eight degrees, and the asphalt on the roads became soft from the heat.

In the studio at SOHO Future City, the air conditioner was set to sixteen degrees, creating a chilling atmosphere.

Heavy blackout curtains blocked out the harsh midday sun, leaving only the pale yellow glow from a desk lamp.

The room was so quiet that the only sound was the crisp clicking of the keyboard, like rapid raindrops hitting the eaves.

Lin Que had shut himself in this "little black room," entering a state of seclusion.

Aside from eating and using the restroom, he was practically glued to his ergonomic chair.

The cursor on the screen flashed frantically,

Title: ordinary world; below it, line after line of text flowed out like roots dug from the soil, carrying a coarse texture.

This was no longer a soul redemption floating in the clouds like the ferryman.

This was something heavier and harder.

Lin Que closed his eyes, and his mind was no longer filled with the tombstones of Sarajevo.

The images overlapped, becoming the playground of that misty, rainy county high school on the Loess Plateau.

That was the rain of 1975...

When the final period of Chapter Ten was typed,

Lin Que didn't move immediately, his whole body slumped in the ergonomic chair.

A ray of intense light leaking through the gap in the curtains made him squint,

It took a long while before he realized that the scene before him wasn't that gray, rainy day in 1975.

He picked up the long-cold concentrated tea and took a gulp, the bitterness sliding down his throat,

Only then did the heavy feeling blocking his chest dissipate slightly.

He stared at the description of "eating" he had just typed on the screen.

In that impoverished high school, meals were divided into three grades: Grade A, Grade B, and Grade C dishes.

Correspondingly, there were white flour buns, cornmeal buns, and the one regarded as a mark of poverty and shame—the black sorghum bun.

The protagonist, Sun Shaoping, that tall and thin rural youth,

Would always wait until everyone else had finished their meals and left before slipping into the dining area like a thief,

Quickly taking his two black buns and hiding in a corner to swallow them down with the rain.

At that moment, Lin Que seemed to see the dim apartment in Sarajevo,

Where Mrs. Zola used an enamel mug to slowly iron that white shirt that no one had worn for a long time.

One was a youth hiding in the rain eating black buns, and the other was an old woman ironing a shirt while keeping watch over a lost soul.

Time and space underwent a marvelous folding at this moment.

That kind of spine, desperately straightened to maintain the last shred of dignity, was equally searing whether in the wretched conditions of the Loess Plateau or on the ruins of the Balkan Peninsula.

"Whew—"

Lin Que let out a long breath and typed the final period of Chapter Ten.

Save, close.

The immersive sense of oppression receded slightly as the document closed.

Lin Que rubbed his aching brow; three days of high-intensity coding made him feel as if his body had just finished a marathon, with fatigue seeping into his very bones.

"If I keep writing like this, I'm afraid I'll get depressed myself."

Lin Que let out a long breath and rubbed his throbbing temples.

To prevent himself from being dragged into an emotional black hole by Sun Shaoping's ascetic life, he decided to find some "fun" to neutralize it. He slid the mouse and skillfully switched to the backend of Hongguo Novel Website, that dark territory belonging to the Dream Weaver.

As soon as he entered, he was shocked by the frantic book review section.

It had only been a few days since the shadow over innsmouth was released, and the comment section had already gone completely off track.

The scene Lin Que had originally envisioned was readers trembling with fear,

Crying out that they were going to smash the fish tanks at home, or developing a psychological shadow toward anyone with wide-set eyes.

But he had clearly underestimated the mental state of this generation of netizens.

Under the lead of that ID named 【The Drowned on Land】, the style of the entire comment section took a 180-degree turn.

The original screams of horror had evolved into a bizarre "Deep Ones reunion convention."

【Home in the Deep】: Who understands this! When I was showering today, my fingers got wrinkled from the water. I stared at them for a long time, feeling like the patterns were some kind of ancient incantation. Am I awakening?

【Big Octopus Ball】: Count me in! Now I can't even walk past the seafood market; that fishy smell feels so familiar, I even want to swallow a hairtail raw. Is this a precursor to bloodline awakening?

【Innsmouth Oldies】: Say no more, I just changed my cat's name to "Dagon." The way it looks at me now isn't right; I feel like it's going to take me on a pilgrimage to the sea tonight.

【San Value Guardian】: No... are you people crazy? Those are monsters! Monsters with gills! You call that familiar?

【The Drowned on Land】 replied to 【San Value Guardian】: You think it's a monster because you haven't heard the call of the ocean yet. That is evolution, immortality. The land is too crowded, the sea is home.

Looking at the screen full of comments begging for gills and wanting to return to the sea to acknowledge their ancestors,

Lin Que's hand holding the teacup froze in mid-air, and he didn't drink for a long time.

What was this?

A collective outbreak of cyber-psychosis?

His intention was to write about the despair of being unable to escape fate, but these readers had somehow interpreted it as a tragic sense of "finding a sense of belonging in a displaced time and space."

Especially that one called 【The Drowned on Land】, who was practically the spiritual leader of this Deep-Diving movement.

Every reply carried a sense of fanatical preaching,

Tricking many chuunibyou teenagers into truly believing they were the descendants of a divine race left behind on land.

"Fine then."

Lin Que leaned back in his chair and smiled helplessly.

The highest level of horror is probably making readers not only refuse to run away but also want to join in.

Just then, the phone on the corner of the desk suddenly vibrated.

Caller ID: Chen Jiahao.

That cowardly rich heir whose family owned mines but who was passionate about literature.

Lin Que had just pressed the answer button and hadn't even had time to move the phone away,

When Chen Jiahao's tearful roar came through the receiver, with background noise of splashing water and heavy breathing.

"Master Que! Help! I don't want to live anymore!"

"What's wrong, Young Master Chen?" Lin Que calmly took a sip of the rock sugar and snow pear soup he had brought from home that morning.

"Being forced to inherit the family business again?"

"Shh, it's scarier than inheriting the family business!"

Chen Jiahao's voice was shaking, and the sound of water in the background remained unabated:

"That 'Dream Weaver' is simply a psychopath! A purebred one!"

Lin Que raised an eyebrow and took another sip of soup:

"How so?"

"Don't even get me started. I was just swimming in my own pool, having a good time, when I suddenly remembered that 'Gaze from the Abyss' written in the book.

I keep feeling like something at the bottom of the pool is watching me! Those eyeless eyes, staring intently at my stomach!"

Chen Jiahao was clearly scared out of his wits, his speaking speed as fast as a machine gun:

"I was so scared I nearly peed myself... I didn't actually pee, of course, but my legs cramped up from the fear! I scrambled onto the shore, and my swim trunks almost got kicked off!

Now I'm wrapped in a towel drying off in the sun, and I still feel a chill in my bones!"

Lin Que suppressed a laugh: "Since you're afraid, then stop reading. Be careful, if you read too much you might really mutate and grow gills."

"I want to stop too! But this stuff is addictive! The more I'm afraid, the more I want to read, and the more I read, the more I'm afraid!"

Chen Jiahao shouted in a breakdown on the other end:

"The most critical one is my nanny! Auntie Wang!"

"She's worked for us for five years and her cooking is delicious.

But when I got out of the pool just now and saw her coming over with a fruit plate, I suddenly noticed... her eye distance seems a bit wide!"

*Ding-dong.*

A photo popped up on WeChat.

The photo was clearly taken secretly and was somewhat blurry.

A kind-looking middle-aged woman was smiling while carrying a tray,

The distance between her eyes was indeed slightly wider than average, but within the normal range.

Immediately following was a long voice message from Chen Jiahao:

"Master Que, look! This is the Innsmouth look!

Now when I see her smile, I feel like at any second she's going to tear off her face and reveal the fish scales underneath!

Do you think this Dream Weaver has the black water of the entire Pacific Ocean in his head? How could he write such ghastly stuff that makes everyone look like a monster?"

Looking at the kind, smiling face of the nanny on the screen,

Then looking at Chen Jiahao's voice message accusing him of being a "psycho," the smile in Lin Que's eyes fully spread.

He tapped the keyboard with one hand and sent back a sentence that would ensure Chen Jiahao suffered from complete insomnia tonight:

"Is it possible that the author is reminding you?

True horror never hides in the abyss; it's hidden behind the smiling faces you see every day.

Tonight when you eat, remember to observe the auntie's neck more closely,

There might be a surprise."

...