Chapter 2

Chen Feng used to be a bricklayer at a construction site, highly skilled in wall-building and earning as much as 250 yuan a day. But a month ago, after slipping in the bathroom and injuring his brain, he forgot everything completely. Not only did his bricklaying skills regress by leaps and bounds, but he also developed a fear of heights. When suspended in the air, forget about laying bricks or applying cement—he couldn’t even hold a brick steady.  

So he had to switch to being a ground-level brick carrier, and his wages dropped to 170 yuan a day.  

Working nonstop for a month without eating or drinking would earn him 5,100 yuan.  

But he no longer had a home and needed to rent a place, plus there were utility bills, food expenses, and Chen Jiuxing’s tuition. At most, he could save 2,000 yuan a month.  

It would take at least four years to pay off the 100,000-yuan debt.  

But now, his account had an extra one billion yuan.  

That’s right.  

One. Billion. Yuan.  

A one followed by nine zeros.  

Chen Feng had already counted the digits on his phone’s SMS notification nine times.  

His eyes were starting to blur from counting.  

Zhao Linlin had once mocked him for living like a joke.  

But now, everything seemed as beautiful as a fairy tale.  

“Son, you’ve suffered!”  

His father, whom he had only seen in a family photo since losing his memory, suddenly appeared. Dressed in what was supposedly a million-yuan outfit—though to Chen Feng, it looked like a piece of ragged cloth—he trembled as he grasped Chen Feng’s hands, tears and snot streaming down his face.  

Chen Feng glanced at the snot about to drip onto his hand, subtly withdrew his hand, and looked up at his father calmly. “I didn’t suffer.”  

How could I suffer when you’ve just given me a billion yuan?  

Chen Zihua took a tissue from his assistant and blew his nose.  

Chen Feng breathed a sigh of relief.  

For some reason, the moment Chen Zihua’s snot had started dripping, Chen Feng had inexplicably imagined him catching it with his hand and smearing it into his own hair.  

Chen Feng shook his head.  

What a strange thought.  

“It’s my fault for hiding the truth from you for 26 years to toughen you up. I was afraid you’d develop the bad habits of a spoiled rich kid like I did,” Chen Zihua said, wiping his tears. “But I never imagined you’d suffer so much—being driven to jump off a building over a mere 100,000 yuan. If it weren’t for the clothesline on the 32nd floor catching you, who knows… what would’ve happened.”  

Chen Feng smiled and nodded. “Thank goodness for the clothesline.”  

“I’ve already given the family on the 32nd floor who installed that clothesline 10 million yuan.”  

Chen Feng chuckled. “How generous of you.”  

“Well, they did save your life. Remember, from now on, we must carry ourselves with the dignity of the wealthy.”  

“Of course.”  

After his father left, Chen Jiuxing pushed the door open and came in.  

He threw himself into Chen Feng’s arms, nuzzling against him like a puppy, whimpering softly.  

“Scared?” Chen Feng asked.  

Chen Jiuxing nodded obediently.  

According to the debt collectors—who had quickly softened their tone after receiving payment—Chen Jiuxing hadn’t been in Chen Feng’s arms when he jumped, but he had fainted from shock after seeing him leap.  

As usual, Chen Feng patted Chen Jiuxing’s head, but his mood didn’t settle as it normally would.  

“Dad,” Chen Jiuxing looked up at him, “what was that ‘angel’ you mentioned when you first woke up?”  

Chen Feng smiled. “Just your dad talking nonsense.”  

Even though everyone said it was the clothesline that had saved him.

But Chen Feng only remembered the angel with beautiful black wings and Chen Jiuxing, who nimbly slipped out of his embrace like a monkey and leaped onto the air conditioner’s outdoor unit.  

“Your memory is wrong—it’s just confusion and delusion from the shock,” Chen Feng told himself.  

Lenin said that truth is held by the minority.  

But reality is this: What the majority believes to be true becomes the truth.  

Since everyone said he was saved by a clothes rack, then he was saved by a clothes rack.  

As for the angel with black wings—  

That was just his fantasy.  

At least, for now, he could only say it was his fantasy.  

A meaningless delusion, just like when he thought Chen Zihua was going to wipe snot on his hair.  

Chen Feng threw off the blanket and got out of bed, walking to the window.  

Just in time to see his father, surrounded by a crowd of bodyguards, heading toward that long black car.  

Forgive Chen Feng—his one month and three days of memory and life experience weren’t enough for him to recognize the car’s brand and model.  

In any case, Chen Zihua wiped his nose with his hand, then smeared the snot on his hair before wrapping his arm around a woman in a tight red dress and getting into that long black car.  

Chen Feng closed the window, somewhat incredulous.  

—Chen Zihua really did wipe snot on his hair.  

Seated in the stretch limousine, Chen Zihua watched as the woman in the red dress tried to pour him a drink. He shook his head and refused.  

With beauty and fine wine at his side, he felt no interest—only anxiety as he stared out the window, nervously tugging at his tie and repeatedly wiping snot on his hair.  

He was nervous.  

Extremely nervous.  

Every second was worse than the last.  

For the thirteenth time, he wiped snot on his hair, then ran his long tongue around his lips before asking the person beside him, “How was my performance just now?”  

“Great!” The assistant gave a thumbs-up.  

“Amazing!” The secretary gave two thumbs-up.  

“Absolutely spectacular!” The beauty gave three thumbs-up.  

Chen Zihua irritably yanked off his tie.  

Perfect. Nothing but useless, shitty praise.  

“We’re here,” the driver said quietly.  

Chen Zihua’s heart nearly leaped out of his chest.  

He pressed a hand to it.  

The car stopped, and everyone silently closed their eyes, kneeling where they were.  

Chen Zihua stepped out of the car, his legs unsteady as his feet touched the grass.  

This place looked like a picturesque countryside—lush grass, wildflowers, butterflies, a waterfall.  

Beautiful as a painting.  

Step by step, Chen Zihua moved forward, wading through the pond until he stood before the waterfall.  

He knelt in the water, placing a blue stone reverently in his palm and raising it above his head.  

His lips brushed the water’s surface as he trembled and called out:  

“Lü Tiao has returned to report.”  

The waterfall suddenly froze.  

Every current, ripple, and droplet hung suspended in the air,  

As sunlight cast prismatic reflections upon them.  

The entire scene before him was like a giant curtain, abruptly falling away.  

The green grass, red flowers, and flowing waterfall—like wallpaper peeled off by an invisible hand—collapsed lifelessly to the ground before gradually turning transparent and vanishing.  

In its place was a black hole.  

Chen Zihua walked toward it, step by step.  

The further he went, the more his back hunched.  

The further he went, the smaller his figure became.

By the end, he had transformed into a toad with a belly nearly scraping the ground and a back covered in mucus resembling snot.

“Master.”

He slowly knelt before the man seated on the high throne.

The man on the throne retracted his enormous black wings and turned around, lazily settling into his seat.

His hair, as smooth as raven feathers, and his eyes, gleaming like blood-red diamonds, created a strange harmony on his extraordinarily handsome face. He was almost too beautiful, too refined. Without a close look into his eyes, one might easily overlook the blood once staining his hands, mistaking him for nothing more than a pampered prince who had spent his life sheltered in a palace.

Indeed, he was a prince—but the palace had long been without a king.

“I am the one and only king,” the boy muttered, gripping a sword. Suddenly, he raised the blade, pointing it at Chen Jiuxing while unwrapping the bandage on his right arm and chanting an obscure incantation: “Bahramido, I’ve found you, the natural enemy of the Black Wing Clan and my eternal glory…”

Chen Jiuxing’s eyes widened as he watched the sole king of the Black Wing Clan being dragged away by his mother.

Turning to Chen Feng, his small eyes filled with confusion, Chen Jiuxing asked, “Dad, who was that guy?”

“An edgy chuunibyou.”

Chen Feng picked up an apple and lay back on the hospital bed, flipping through a magazine.

It was a locally published tabloid, filled with poorly stitched-together relationship articles in the front and crammed with small ads in the back.

When Chen Feng woke up a month ago, he could barely recognize written characters. His wife, Zhao Linlin, decided his smartphone was too much of a luxury and traded it at the corner store for a basic flip phone and three packs of cigarettes.

Now, this shoddily made magazine had become Chen Feng’s primary source of news in the absence of a smartphone.

For instance, he had just found an ad for faucet repairs in the classifieds section.

Last night, Chen Feng had listened to the incessant dripping of the faucet all night.

He had planned to fix it himself, but now that his account balance had swollen by a billion, he didn’t need to fret over the 168 yuan for a new faucet.

One phone call later, the repairman promised to replace the faucet by the end of the day.

Chen Feng relaxed.

The dripping had kept him awake all night, even haunting his dreams—though his dream had been far stranger than reality. He had dreamed the sound wasn’t from the faucet at all, but from a dark, drooling monster with its tongue hanging above it.

Chen Feng chuckled and shook his head.

Maybe he had more imagination than he thought.

Chen Feng had only fainted due to his fear of heights—his body was fine. After finishing an IV drip of saline, he headed home with his son.

As soon as they entered the neighborhood, Chen Feng suddenly remembered he had forgotten to park his e-bike in the basement for charging the day before.

Seeing Chen Feng pushing the bike toward the basement, Chen Jiuxing instinctively took a step back.

His watery little eyes filled with fear as he whispered, “Dad, I don’t want to go down there. It’s dark.”

Chen Feng glanced around, hesitating.

He didn’t feel right leaving Chen Jiuxing alone outside.

Just then, Wang Baqiang came down with his daughter, Wang Shimei.

Wang Shimei greeted Chen Jiuxing warmly, and the two children began chatting happily.

Wang Baqiang said to Chen Feng, “You go ahead and push the bike. I’ll look after the kids for a while.”

With that, he took out a chocolate bar from his pocket, unwrapped it, broke it in half, giving the larger piece to Chen Jiuxing and the smaller one to Wang Shimei. “Jiuxing, Shimei, come get some chocolate!”

“Thank you, Uncle Baqiang!” Chen Jiuxing cheerfully accepted the chocolate.

Chen Feng sighed.

Wang Baqiang was actually a decent neighbor. If nothing else, he paid more attention to Chen Jiuxing than Zhao Linlin did.

He and Wang Baqiang might even have been friends—if Wang Baqiang hadn’t slept with his wife.

Snapping out of his thoughts, Chen Feng realized he had already pushed the bike into the basement.

This small residential area, with only two buildings, was an illegal construction. The basement was old, dilapidated, dark, and cramped.

Chen Feng thought to turn on the bike’s headlight for illumination, only to remember that the electric bike’s light had been broken for days.

No choice but to move forward in the dark.

Fortunately, his eyes gradually adjusted. Groping around, Chen Feng found his family’s basement, opened the door, turned on the light, and plugged in the bike to charge.

But after turning off the light and closing the basement door, the entire space plunged back into darkness—even deeper than before.

Chen Feng had to feel his way along the wall, step by step.

The basement hadn’t been cleaned in years. Every step crunched on garbage.

Chen Feng felt stifling heat ahead, but his back was oddly cool.

Cool in a way that felt eerie and unsettling.

Like a monster drenched in cold sweat was creeping toward him, the air thick with the stench of rotting flesh.

Suddenly, the hairs on Chen Feng’s neck stood on end.

Then, something cold, stiff, and tongue-like licked the back of his neck.

Chen Feng froze.

But his left hand slowly reached into his pocket for his old-fashioned phone.

He pulled it out, quickly turned on the flashlight, and swung it behind him.

—There was no one there.

Only a half-torn couplet from someone’s basement fluttered in the breeze stirred by his sudden movement.

So, what had touched his neck was just the couplet.

Chen Feng touched his neck, where the paper had nicked him, leaving a thin trail of blood.

Just then, a bestial roar and thrashing came from the far end of the basement.

Chen Feng paused, then took a few steps toward the sound before stopping, rubbing the goosebumps on his arms.

He turned and strode back toward the exit.

Probably… just someone’s big dog kept in the basement, he told himself silently.

As light finally washed over him, Chen Feng exhaled in relief.

Bathed in what felt like long-lost sunlight, he laughed at his earlier paranoia.

“Here’s another chocolate for Jiuxing. Call me ‘Dad,’ okay?” Wang Baqiang’s deliberately lowered voice reached his ears.

“Dad!” Chen Jiuxing called out without hesitation, happily accepting the chocolate.

“Dad, I want some too!” Wang Shimei stretched out her hand.

The three of them—one adult and two children—stood bathed in sunlight, identical in their beady eyes, three moles, thinning hair, triple chins, and the dimples that appeared on their left cheeks when they smiled.

A sudden clarity struck Chen Feng.

Chen Feng and Zhao Linlin had lived here for six years.

Chen Feng and Wang Baqiang had been neighbors for six years.  

Chen Jiuxing was five years old this year.  

Chen Feng knew Wang Baqiang had slept with his wife, yet he couldn’t remember exactly how many years ago he’d received that green hat on his head.  

Chen Feng stood at the entrance of the basement.  

He was clearly facing the sunlight, yet he felt as if the darkness behind him was about to swallow him whole.  

Chen Feng took a step forward.  

Letting the sunlight fully envelop him.  

As if that could chase away some of the chill clinging to his body.  

“Jiuxing, let’s go.” Chen Feng tilted his head up, waving at Chen Jiuxing under the sunlight.  

I didn’t do anything wrong.  

Chen Feng thought.  

I don’t need to run away or feel miserable.  

Chen Feng suddenly felt grateful that he had lost his memory a month ago.  

He and Chen Jiuxing had only been father and son for a month.  

Otherwise, he really wouldn’t know what expression to wear when facing this reality.  

Even though Chen Feng considered himself a fairly tolerant man, looking at Chen Jiuxing’s face—which grew more and more similar to Wang Baqiang’s—still made him unbearably frustrated.  

Those three obvious moles, those unmistakable beady eyes—why had he only noticed them now?  

Had he been blind for the past five years?!  

A man in a foul mood tends to do impulsive things to vent his emotions.  

Chen Feng was no exception.  

So, when the plumbing repair guy showed up with a pile of tools and laid out the 168-yuan package, the 298-yuan package, and the 558-yuan package in front of him—  

Chen Feng impulsively chose the most expensive one.  

This time, not only was the faucet replaced, but the entire sink was overhauled.  

So, when Chen Feng still heard the sound of running water at two in the morning, his mood soured even further.  

Furious, he called the after-sales service to leave the repair guy a bad review, then stormed into the kitchen with a screwdriver in hand.  

*Snap!*  

Holding a screwdriver in his left hand and a wrench in his right, Chen Feng aggressively flipped on the kitchen light.  

And came face to face with a slimy, shapeless, pitch-black monster clinging to the ceiling.  

The monster seemed startled.  

Its red beady eyes *whooshed* back into its inky, gelatinous flesh, its soft and elastic body trembling violently like jelly.  

Chen Feng: “…”  

His heart skipped a beat, and both the screwdriver and wrench clattered to the floor.  

“I should probably retract that bad review for the repair guy,” Chen Feng thought.  

Also, he really didn’t want to see beady eyes right now.  

Not even red ones.