The ingredients weren’t great, and no matter how skillful Si Xuanyang was in mixing them, the taste was indeed strange. Yu Sen forced down most of it, and after his stomach was somewhat less empty, he stopped eating.

He pulled out the program card, browsed it from top to bottom, and realized that there would be several stage performances in the afternoon, well before evening.

And the main event on the program was, of course, the final performance: “The Red Dance Shoes: A Love of Mourning.”

He figured that not just any dancer could wear the red dance shoes; the woman mentioned in the note to “kill the woman in the red dance shoes” was definitely referring to a specific person, and he could only figure it out by watching the performances.

Noting the times on the program, Yu Sen pulled Si Xuanyang along to explore backstage.

The theater was quite formal, with labels on the doors of each dressing room indicating the names of the dance troupe members and the main performance titles. Members of the same performance shared one large dressing room.

However, one particularly special dressing room, with the door tightly shut, bore only one name: Ruan Xin—Soloist, Lead Dancer.

Yu Sen glanced at the program again. The name of the lead dancer wasn’t listed under “The Red Dance Shoes: A Love of Mourning,” but his intuition told him that Ruan Xin was somehow deeply connected to both this dance and their mission.

After all, main characters are always a bit special, and having a single room was definitely a signal.

He wasn’t the only one who thought this; others were also casting curious glances at that door. But after circling the hallway a few times, no one dared to knock.

The first to stick their neck out often gets shot. If they accidentally triggered something, there would be no turning back.

In the afternoon, the musical theater opened.

Since the natural light in the theater was quite weak, the ceiling lights and wall lamps were on even during the day. As the performance was about to begin, the lights gradually dimmed, leaving only the background lighting on the stage. The audience seats were all dimly lit, and the dozen or so people glanced at each other, hesitated for a while, and then sat together with their closest, most trusted companions.

The darkness made people uneasy, and though Yu Sen had a strong mental constitution, his body seemed to have undergone some sort of alteration in the clock world, making him more fragile. The slight night blindness caused his heart to race, and the stabbing pain in his chest made his stomach start to ache, waves of pain crashing over him.

Yu Sen’s fingers clutched tightly at his shirt over his stomach, his knuckles turning white, pressing hard against his abdomen. His erratic breathing and gasps were intermittent, making Si Xuanyang worry in the dim light.

Si Xuanyang reached over, groping for a moment before grabbing Yu Sen’s hand over his abdomen, his gentle tone unable to hide his concern: “Is your stomach hurting again?”

He slowly stroked Yu Sen’s fingers. The joints were clenched tight, as if about to dig into the flesh, cold as jade, seemingly fragile, with slightly damp fingertips that made one reluctant to let go.

Yu Sen took a deep breath and, before the performance started, turned his head and gave Si Xuanyang a gentle bite on the neck. In a sticky tone, he complained, “That chicken breast at lunch was really hard to digest. I don’t want to eat it again. I’ll just nibble on you tonight to fill my stomach.”

“Alright,” Si Xuanyang felt a slight sting on his neck, but he neither avoided it nor made a sound, and he readily agreed, “I’ll cut off a piece of meat tonight and make soup for you. Which part do you want?”

Yu Sen swallowed, “…ribs?”

Si Nan, who had been listening the whole time, couldn’t help but roll his eyes, “Are you guys insane?”

Was his brother and best friend about to start some bloody love story?

Si Xuanyang shot him a cold glance, “Actually, pig trotters soup is quite nourishing too. We could just chop off Si Nan’s hands and feet and stew them slowly.”

Yu Sen muttered, “No, he’s got swine flu.”

Si Nan: “…Screw you and your swine flu. I’m not arguing with a sick person.”

…

After bantering for a while, the pain in Yu Sen’s body eased a bit. A few minutes later, even the lights on the stage started to dim, and the surrounding whispers gradually faded. One by one, the dancers ran gracefully from behind the curtain to the center of the stage.

The stage suddenly lit up, and a deep, sorrowful symphony resounded from somewhere. In an instant, everyone’s ears were filled with the sound, making it hard to even hear the person next to them speaking normally.

Si Xuanyang held Yu Sen’s hand tightly, and his palm was cold and sweaty. In the overwhelming, suffocating music, Yu Sen felt a bit dazed, a chill running through him, and for a fleeting moment, he had the illusion that the person beside him had been replaced.

He repeatedly turned his head to try to confirm Si Xuanyang’s face, but every time his gaze shifted from the brightly lit stage to the dim area beside him, there were always a few seconds of pitch-black transition, making it hard for him to feel at ease.

Perhaps sensing his anxiety, Si Xuanyang leaned over even more, almost pressing against him. His palm grew warm, covering Yu Sen’s stomach, soothing and gentle.

Si Xuanyang lightly kissed Yu Sen’s temple, his lips close to Yu Sen’s ear, the sound transmitted without any gap, tender and lingering, the airflow vibrating his eardrum, sending a tingling sensation straight to his heart.

“Don’t worry, I’m right here.”

The weight in his heart gradually settled. Yu Sen exhaled, turned Si Xuanyang’s hand that was on his abdomen, and slid his fingers through the gaps, interlocking their fingers tightly.

…

Although they weren’t professionals, they still found every movement in the performance on stage to be very graceful, requiring a strong foundation in dance—blending strength and softness, flowing like water. The only flaw was the expressions.

—Too ‘creepy.’

Those faces, those eyes, those expressions, it was as if the words ‘death’ and ‘ghost’ were printed right on their foreheads.

On top of that, everyone’s makeup was unusually heavy—white/pink faces, intense blush, thick eye makeup, almost obscuring their original features. Combined with the ‘I’m going to tear you apart’ stares, the whole performance and the atmosphere of the theater exuded a spooky, eerie vibe.

But what everyone was focused on—no one’s shoes were red.

Yu Sen observed closely; every dancer had repeated appearances, and there were some new faces, but each one’s shoes were either black or white, no other colors. Even the lead dancer wasn’t special, just ordinary, except that they were all dead, and nothing seemed out of place.

Soon, the first seven performances were over.

Yu Sen narrowed his eyes, rubbing the name of the last show on the program, becoming even more convinced that their mission target this time was the Red Shoes Lady who was about to take the stage.

His heart pounded faster as he slowly tightened his grip on Si Xuanyang’s hand. Behind the curtain, a figure in a red dress gracefully appeared in his sight.