Night.
Pale moonlight streamed through the study window, bringing with it a faint glow.
A figure sat ramrod straight and utterly motionless before the desk. His fingernails were pitch-black, his eyes faintly red, and a subtle stench of corpses wafted from his body. Behind him, a shadow seemed to sway and dance. The entire study was filled with a gloomy, terrifying atmosphere.
"Knock, knock, knock!"
The sound of knocking at the door jolted the figure out of his daze. At the same time, the countless whispers in his ears rapidly faded away. His pitch-black fingernails returned to normal, his eyes regained their usual appearance, and every anomaly in the room vanished. He rubbed his cheeks as though waking from a dream, his expression shifting between light and dark.
"Changming, aren't you going to sleep?" his wife called from outside, a trace of worry in her voice.
"You go to sleep first. I'm sleeping in the study again tonight," Xiao Changming said.
"Changming, are you all right?"
"Don't worry. I'm fine. Trust me. Everything will pass," Xiao Changming comforted her.
"Then I'm going to bed. You should get some rest soon too."
His wife's footsteps gradually faded away. After the faint sound of the door closing, his expression turned grim.
"Damn it! It's getting worse and worse."
Xiao Changming could feel his resistance to that eerie voice growing weaker and weaker. His consciousness, thoughts, and even memories were all being distorted and assimilated, with no way to avoid it.
He felt he was almost unable to hold on.
He glanced at the dishes on the desk, which had long since gone cold. Then he suddenly picked up his chopsticks and began eating, forcing down his revulsion.
These were all dishes he had once loved.
But now they tasted like wax.
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