Volume Two: Portrait - Prologue: Monster

Last night, they came to see me again.

As usual, they remained silent, standing silently at the foot of my bed. And as usual, I was still motionless in bed, staring at the charred, headless figures surrounding me. And he, still whispered gently in my ear: "Actually, you're just like me."

I've grown accustomed to meeting them at night, but I still break out in a cold sweat.

It wasn't until they left without saying a word that I heard Du Yu's calm breathing on the bed opposite mine.

The cold moonlight quietly spilled in from the window, the flames in the dormitory had long disappeared, and it felt chilly.

I struggled to turn over, my hand finding the military knife under the pillow, feeling the rough, uneven handle, my breath slowly calming.

I fell back into a deep sleep.

Occasionally, I would return to Shanghai Normal University. I would sit in front of the flower bed at the entrance of the men's dormitory, where there used to be a very old locust tree. Now, there were various colorful, unidentified flowers swaying in the breeze. I often gazed at the seven-story modern student apartment building in front of me, trying hard to recall its previous appearance. The faded red bricks, the shaky wooden windows, the mottled paint on the iron gate.

And the young faces that used to come in and out of this building.

Suddenly, I would feel deeply melancholic, as if struck by a fragile emotion. And the floodgate of memories would quietly open, unstoppable.

If you knew me, you'd feel that I'm a quiet person. Most of the time, I try to be alone. Eating alone, walking alone, even in class, I avoid sitting with others.

Don't come near me. I often use my gaze to stop those who try to understand me. Everyone keeps their distance from me, but I am familiar with the temperaments, characters, and habits of everyone around me. If you see someone in the classroom, cafeteria, or on campus, with a pale face, seemingly indifferent, yet constantly observing others, that person is me.

I live in Room 313, Building B, South Garden of J University. My roommate is Du Yu, a master's student majoring in jurisprudence. Probably because of living in the same room, he is one of the few people in the Law School who often talks to me. He is a kind-hearted person, and it's clear that he is deliberately trying to build a good relationship with me, making me feel less lonely in the Law School—although I don't care about that. However, I don't refuse to chat with him occasionally, including about his somewhat exaggerated girlfriend.

"Here, let's eat together."

I was holding a tray, eating the knife-cut noodles mixed with chili sauce, while engrossed in looking at a picture and the accompanying text on the computer. I didn't notice when Du Yu and his girlfriend entered the dormitory.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

It was a freshly grilled skewer of lamb, sprinkled with chili powder and cumin, with yellow oil flowing down, emitting a burnt smell.

I'm sure my face must have been paler than the wall behind me. I stared blankly at the skewer of grilled lamb that was handed to me, and after a few gurgling sounds in my throat, I spat out the half-eaten lunch back into the tray in my hand.

I covered my mouth, rushed out with the tray full of still steaming vomit, and behind me came Zhang Yao's astonished voice: "What's wrong with him?"

I weakly leaned against the sink in the bathroom, hastily splashing water on my face. I looked up, and in the stained mirror on the wall, I saw a pale, wet face, with a vacant look in my eyes, a bit of vomit still on the corner of my mouth.

I bent down and retched a few more times, feeling empty in my stomach. With nothing left to vomit, I trembled as I struggled to stand up, and approached the faucet to drink a few mouthfuls of cold water, swirling in my mouth before spitting it out.

I tossed the tray into the trash and staggered back to the dormitory.

The room was in chaos, Zhang Yao was crouched on Du Yu's bed, with a large puddle of vomit on the floor, and a sour, rotten smell filled the room. Du Yu, pinching his nose, threw a basin in front of her.

Seeing me come in, Zhang Yao raised her face, drenched in cold sweat and tears, pointed at me with her finger, trying to say something, but was silenced by another violent bout of vomiting.

Du Yu looked at me awkwardly, "Just now, Yao Yao, I don't know what happened to you. I saw you looking at something on the computer, and out of curiosity, I went over to take a look, and then..."

I ignored him and walked straight to the computer desk. It was a webpage I had been browsing, with several pictures. One of them was a decaying head, with the skin on the face and neck peeled off. The other three were the torso and left and right arms of a victim who had been dismembered. These were crime scene photos from a murder case that occurred in Wisconsin in 2000. I downloaded these pictures into the "Severely Damaged" folder on my hard drive.

I stood up and walked over to Zhang Yao, bending down to say, "Are you okay?"

Zhang Yao was weak from vomiting, and when she saw me, she shrunk back in fear, "Don't come near me!"

She trembled and weakly raised a hand, pointing at the computer, then at me, her lips trembling for a few moments before finally blurting out two words between her teeth: "Monster!"

"Yao Yao!" Du Yu shouted loudly, stopping her, while looking uneasily at me.

I smiled at him, indicating that I didn't mind.

I really didn't mind. I am a monster, I know.

My name is Fang Mu, and in a disaster two years ago, I was the only survivor.