The bowl of rice sat right there beneath the dim yellow light: crimson barbecued pork, emerald greens, and rice like grains of silver. Even under normal circumstances, it would have been enough to make anyone's mouth water.
And right now, Chen Ying was hungry enough to eat someone.
"What, aren't you hungry?"
The raspy voice behind the door asked. Seeing that Chen Ying still hadn't touched the food, he seemed to be growing impatient.
"No chopsticks."
Chen Ying wasn't in a hurry. Now that he had come to this bizarre world, he had to give everything a little extra thought.
Wu Jie had prepared a whole table of food, but he hadn't had an appetite. Who knew what trick lay hidden in this "last meal" the old man offered newly dead ghosts?
"If there aren't any chopsticks, eat with your hands."
"The sage said, 'If it is not cut properly, do not eat it.' Even eating requires proper etiquette."
"Aren't you afraid of starving to death?"
"Why would a ghost fear death? Besides, starvation is a small matter; losing one's integrity is a grave one. Standards still have to be maintained."
The old man behind the door seemed dumbfounded by that reply.
Actually, Chen Ying was experimenting too. He wanted to see what effect the words of the sages from his previous life might have in this world.
Other transmigrators could recite a few poems or sayings of Confucius and have literary energy descend from heaven. Reciting a couple of lines from some endlessly revised version of the Tao Te Ching could win them the Great Dao's favor and make them immortals on the spot. Singing "The Internationale" could make ghosts weep and spirits howl, bringing about the end of the world.
Unfortunately, apart from baffling an old fellow, he gained nothing.
When the old fellow fell silent, Chen Ying asked a question.
"Should I borrow a pair from a neighbor?"
Creak.
The door opened inward.
A shriveled hand, as skeletal as a chicken's claw, reached out along the floor, clutching two bone-china chopsticks.
"Take them."
"Sir, aren't you cold down there, crouching so low?"
From Chen Ying's angle, the hand had practically slithered out along the floor like a snake. There was only one explanation: its owner was lying on the floor to pass out the chopsticks.
"Are you going to eat or not?"
"No rush."
Chen Ying crouched down beside it. To be honest, he didn't dare look through the doorway, not because he was scared, but because he was afraid of being disgusted.
That shriveled hand alone told him the old man inside was definitely not alive. He was probably some sort of dried corpse, and after all this time, he certainly wouldn't look pretty.
Who wanted to see a shriveled old man lying on the floor for no reason?
"Do you smoke, sir?"
"Hmm?"
"Never mind. I don't have any cigarettes either."
"Then why ask?"
"I'm just trying to bring us closer together."
"Heh."
The old man was quite good at playing along.
At this point, Chen Ying felt he could have a chat with the old ghost inside.
First, the fellow wasn't showing any aggression. Even if he had any, it would most likely involve that bowl of rice.
Second, this was still Granny Chen's territory. At most, the old ghost was just a tenant.
From the perspective of class analysis, Granny Chen belonged to the oppressor class. As Granny Chen's "dear grandson," he belonged to the oppressor class too. The old ghost belonged to the oppressed class and deserved sympathy, but probably couldn't turn the tables.
"Sir, do you know me?"
"No."
"Would you say situations like ours are common?"
"What situation?"
"Two dead people sitting around chatting."
"I'm not dead."
"That's all right. If you don't want to talk about it, never mind."
Although there was an old ghost behind the door who had died who knew how, compared with Granny Chen, who floated around, and Wu Jie, who was waiting to marry him and consummate their marriage, Chen Ying felt he could only truly relax now.
He could take a proper look at this world.
Chen Ying sat comfortably on the floor. The dim yellow light shone on the wall, making it look covered in gloomy patches of mold. Every inky patch resembled a distorted human face.
"This stuff's only scary when you first look at it. Once you've looked long enough, it's nothing special."
So Chen Ying said. The shriveled hand still held the bone-china chopsticks, like a snake listening to him speak.
"It's all right, sir. If you're tired, just stick the chopsticks in the rice. I'll get them myself in a bit."
"I'm not tired."
"Then let's chat some more."
The old man fell silent again.
Chen Ying stretched.
"Sir, what's your situation?"
"Hmm?"
"Your hand's so dried out. Was it fire or starvation? I can't remember how I died. It happened too fast."
"I'm not dead."
"Who'd believe that? If you're not dead, why are you lying on the floor? Oh, right, I'm not dead either."
"I'm hot. It's cooler on the floor."
"Got it, sir. You burned to death. Everyone gets cremated sooner or later anyway. We just got it all done in one go. Saves trouble."
The one inside seemed to have adjusted to Chen Ying's rhythm and simply ignored him.
"Are you hungry or not? If you aren't, I'm taking it back."
"It's mainly that I'm new to this, and there's a lot I don't understand. I wanted to ask an old hand like you."
The old man finally seemed to find some patience.
"Eat this bowl of rice, and I'll answer whatever you ask."
"Answer me first, and then I'll eat it without another word. Honestly, my mouth really is watering."
"Then eat."
"There'll be time to eat after I've asked."
"Fine. Ask."
Chen Ying thought for a moment.
"Sir, is everyone living in this building in the same situation as us?"
This time, the old man concealed nothing.
"That's right. Four floors altogether, with some on every floor. The higher up you go, the fiercer they are. New arrivals like you have to start on the first floor."
"How do you move out?"
"I don't know. I've never seen anyone 'move out.' Everyone's trapped in their own room. At certain times, the doors open on their own. That's when you can leave the building and find something to eat."
Chen Ying understood. The old man had taken him for a newly arrived ghost.
Still, Granny Chen's four-story building was probably full of vicious ghosts, with increasingly powerful ones higher up.
The most powerful of all was Granny Chen.
"Then it's your turn now, sir. You can open this door, can't you?"
"I'm different from the others. I have an ability: making this bowl of gut-wrenching rice. If someone eats it, I can go out in their place."
"That's really impressive, sir."
"Hmm?"
"Even three years of famine can't starve a cook. With a skill like yours, who needs to go out begging for food?"
"Guess why it's called gut-wrenching rice."
Hearing that, Chen Ying glanced at the porcelain bowl beside him again.
It looked like barbecued pork, but it was intestines.
"The rule in this building is that only one can go out at a time, and they have to return when their time is up. Only once they're back can another go out."
The voice inside spoke flatly.
"If you won't eat my rice, go out and find something to eat."
"Sir, what do those in our line of work generally eat?"
"It varies. Some like eyeballs, some like tongues, and others don't eat flesh and blood at all. They eat mysterious, unfathomable things: fortune, destiny. Only you know what you need to eat."
"You really are impressive, sir."
"Hmm?"
"It's hard to cater to so many tastes, yet that one bowl of rice handles them all."
"You're impressive too."
"Me?"
"With so many crammed into this building, only two had intelligence and could speak. Now there's you too."
"Intelligence?"
"Like you and me, being able to speak and knowing what you want. The others are all muddleheaded. No matter how powerful they are, they only act on instinct. At most, they're a little more sinister and vicious."
The old man fell silent for a moment.
"The other one who can speak is upstairs. He told me he was from the third floor. He rarely comes down. The higher up they are, the fewer chances they get to come out."
Thump, thump.
A strange sound came from the stairs.
It seemed something was coming down from above.
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