Heimat der Spirituosen

Kapitel 6

The door opened, and two strong nurses, one on each side, dragged the crying Wang Xinxin back to the bed and tied her limbs. Another nurse, with a cold expression, gave her an injection without saying a word. In her semi-conscious state, she saw the three nurses walk out of the room together, and a dull slam of the door closing plunged her back into a nightmare-filled slumber.

This time, after regaining her senses, Wang Xinxin was no longer manic. All resistance would be futile, only giving the doctors and nurses more confidence in her mental instability. Her limbs were still firmly bound by leather straps, so she simply remained motionless, staring blankly at the stark white ceiling above her. In the center of the ceiling, there was a stain the size of a fingernail, clearly black and white, looking like a blob of ink that had been accidentally flicked on.

It was probably already dark; no sunlight could be seen through the window, which was more than a meter off the ground. Distant cries and strange screams drifted in through the thick door. Wang Xinxin lay on the bed like a statue, her will gradually being eroded by those frantic sounds; she slowly grew utterly despondent.

"Tap tap tap"—it was a knocking sound, not loud, as if someone were gently tapping the door with their fingernails. Wang Xinxin, lying on the bed, remained unmoved. She felt bewildered that in this environment, the knocking meant nothing to her. Her gaze was fixed on a stain on the ceiling, a stain she hadn't looked away from for a long time.

There were only three knocks on the door, then no more. Whether it was because she had been staring at it for too long or for some other reason, Wang Xinxin felt that the stain seemed to have moved, spreading at an imperceptible speed.

8

Was I seeing things? Wang Xinxin blinked instinctively, looked away for a few seconds, and then quickly returned her gaze to the stain. This time, as if to prove her wrong, the stain spread much faster, like thick ink dripping onto rice paper.

Wang Xinxin's first thought was that there was a leak somewhere. When the stain reached the size of a fist, it stopped spreading, but some fine black lines extended outwards, like the long, intricate tentacles of some animal. These black tentacles were about to cover the white ceiling. She suddenly realized that those fine black lines were alive, and felt very much like… human hair.

A surge of intense fear instantly blocked her airway, causing Wang Xinxin's body to tense up, her gaze unable to leave the stain. The dark mass in the center slowly bulged out, like a bamboo shoot emerging from the soil after rain. The dark bulge grew higher and higher, until something whiter than the ceiling emerged from it.

After finally recognizing it as a gradually growing human head, Wang Xinxin let out a long, piercing scream. A flurry of footsteps approached, and the door was flung open, sending a swarm of medical staff rushing in. This prolonged scream triggered an even greater commotion in the corridor.

"A... a head... on the ceiling..." The increased attention emboldened Wang Xinxin. She twisted her sweaty body, managing to utter this broken sentence. The doctors and nurses looked up; the blindingly white ceiling filled them with a sense of betrayal and anger. The same two burly nurses held Wang Xinxin down tightly, tightening their belts.

With the injection, Wang Xinxin was forced to quiet down. A middle-aged male doctor wearing gold-rimmed glasses bent down to perform a simple examination on her. The two smooth lenses reflected the light into her dazed eyes. Through the lenses, she could clearly see her face, pale and haggard.

Staring at her two identical faces reflected in the glasses, Wang Xinxin's previously calm expression began to subtly shift. Her two faces slowly distorted and warped in the lenses, blood gushing from the gaps in her torn skin, flowing down the doctor's face. Drop after drop, it soaked through her white hospital gown. She could even feel the scalding blood, burning the skin beneath her clothes.

Two faces, but not her own, emerged from behind the glasses, making a squeaking sound. It was that woman—the terrifying woman in white on the balcony. She smiled sinisterly, her long, black tongue licking Wang Xinxin's face, its foul, sticky substance radiating a chilling aura of death.

With a soft moan, Wang Xinxin fainted. This time, her unconsciousness was extremely brief. When she opened her eyes, the bespectacled male doctor had just straightened up and turned to say something to the nurse behind him.

The stench seemed to linger in her nostrils. Wang Xinxin took a deep breath, slightly raised her head, and looked down at herself. As far as her eyes could see, the white hospital gown was spotless except for sweat stains. She exhaled, her heavy head slumping heavily onto the pillow: "Doctor, am I alright?"

"What?" The male doctor turned around in surprise. "Were you asking me that just now?"

"Yes." Wang Xinxin felt weak and unable to speak, but she couldn't rush things; instead, she had to try to appear normal. She couldn't stay in this awful place any longer and had to leave as soon as possible. "Doctor, I want to know, is my illness serious?"

"Uh..." This time, not only the doctor, but also the nurses behind him were all stunned. "Your illness... isn't a big problem, but we need to do a full check-up. Get some rest tonight, and the nurses will bring you dinner in a little while."

"Thank you!" After the male doctor said that, Wang Xinxin did feel a little hungry. Then, she glanced at her wrist and looked at the doctor pleadingly, "Doctor, I've been lying down all day, could I move around a bit?"

A look of hesitation flickered in the male doctor's eyes. After a long pause, he said nothing, only nodding to the two tall, strong nurses behind him. The two nurses untied the belts binding Wang Xinxin, and she immediately felt a sense of relief. The doctor and nurses turned and left the ward, leaving her alone again in the empty room.

Wang Xinxin rolled out of bed and walked back and forth a few steps, feeling her stiff joints gradually regain their elasticity. She walked back to the bedside, and just as she was about to sit down, her toe kicked something, making a soft sound. Looking down, she saw a ballpoint pen lying quietly on the light green tiled floor under the bed. She bent down, picked up the pen, and quickly tucked it behind her back. This scene reminded her of the American horror classic *The Silence of the Lambs*; hadn't Dr. Hannibal Lecter escaped his restraints using a pen cap?

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Wang Xinxin's legs dangled, swinging back and forth, utterly bored. The ballpoint pen on her waist was already warm from being held so much, and her stomach was growling with hunger. Jumping off the bed, she shuffled to the door in her slippers and looked out through the wire mesh. Outside, a straight, clean, and bright corridor stretched into the distance, without a single person in sight.

Xiaoxue is dead. Was everything I saw just an illusion? Wang Xinxin leaned against the door, her nose pressed against the cool wire mesh. The iron gate at the end of the corridor opened, and a nurse pushed a food cart in.

Oh my! There's food to eat. "Food is the first necessity of the people," our ancestors really knew the truth. Thinking of food, Wang Xinxin cast aside all her strange thoughts and eagerly awaited the food to fill her empty stomach.

9

Dinner consisted of two dishes and a soup, plus a large glass of milk. Although not very lavish, it was delicious and clean, far superior to the school cafeteria food, which was barely better than pig swill.

Wang Xinxin ate with great relish, devouring her food in no time. She let out a satisfied burp, then picked up the glass of warm milk, its rich aroma filling her nostrils.

"If this weren't a mental hospital, staying here indefinitely would be quite nice," Wang Xinxin thought to herself, taking a small sip of milk. A nurse came in and took away the tray; she calmly gave her a grateful smile.

The nurse's footsteps faded into the distance, but outside the door, the raving and howling of the madmen never ceased. Wang Xinxin put down the paper cup of milk, marveling at the boundless energy of those madmen. Feeling quite full, she stood up and paced back and forth in the small ward, a sort of post-meal stroll.

Just as Wang Xinxin strolled back and was about to turn around in front of the bedside table, a "glug" sound from the milk glass caught her attention. Curious, she peered into the glass; the white milk rippled on the surface, spreading outwards. "Glug"—another sound, sounding like water backing up from a clogged drain.

Strange! What's going on? Wang Xinxin tilted her head and continued to observe. The sound continued, the intervals getting shorter, and the ripples on the milk became more and more rapid. The questions in her heart continued to grow, and she couldn't help but feel a little nervous. She reached behind her waistband and pulled out the ballpoint pen, the only weapon she could rely on at this moment.

The ripples shattered Wang Xinxin's reflection on the milk's surface. She gripped her pen tightly in her right hand, beads of sweat trickling from her nose. A faint red hue floated up from the milk, only to vanish instantly. Then, the red continued to rise, and the pinkish milk churned and bubbled like boiling water.

Wang Xinxin's face had lost all color, and a chilling aura froze her throat. She began to back away. The milk, now dark red, churned more violently, overflowing from the rim of the cup in a sticky consistency. That strong, metallic smell again corroded the warm air around them.

The dark red liquid, as if it had eyes, trembled and crawled towards Wang Xinxin, who was huddled in the corner. She opened her mouth, but could not scream; only a hissing sound came from her throat. Instantly, the dark red liquid covered the ground, and the fluorescent lights overhead emitted an eerie green glow. The dark red liquid stopped moving forward and instead slowly rose, writhing like a giant, blood-red python.

The python's head arched, reaching about half a person's height. It swam slowly back and forth, stopping less than half a foot away from Wang Xinxin's terrified face. A face, sculpted in relief, its redness faded, its complexion as white as chalk, its long, wet hair obscuring its features.

A chilling wind seemed to rise from the ground, swirling upwards and scattering her long hair. Willow-leaf eyebrows, almond-shaped eyes, a pointed, upturned nose, and sensual lips. Wang Xinxin had the illusion of looking in a mirror. The pair of closed eyes opposite her suddenly snapped open, their crimson, pupil-less eyes burning with an evil flame. A cruel smile made her otherwise beautiful lips appear cold and ruthless.

No, no! You're not me. Wang Xinxin screamed inwardly, her pretty face contorted with fear like a figure in a Picasso painting. The face opposite her smiled even more broadly, uttering a cold, emotionless voice: "Look closely, I am you, and you are me."

Wang Xinxin shook her head violently, and suddenly, she felt the shackles of fear loosen. A scream escaped her throat as she raised her right hand, which was gripping a ballpoint pen, and stabbed fiercely at that face. From nowhere, a thin layer of gray mist blew in, swirling and circling around that face, adding to its eerie appearance.

The sharp pen tip flew closer, but the face neither flinched nor flinched, instead, it smiled, a chilling laugh that nearly froze Wang Xinxin's blood. Her right hand, gripping the pen tightly, visibly trembled, but she didn't stop, and with all her might, she plunged the pen into the blood-red neck beneath that face. A soft, tearing sound rang out, and a deep, dark red light spread before Wang Xinxin's eyes…

In the mental hospital, all sorts of strange screams never really got the doctors and nurses' attention. When the doctor on rounds pushed open Wang Xinxin's room door, the horrific scene in the corner left him speechless, and he collapsed to the floor.

In the corner, Wang Xinxin was curled up in a ball, her bloodless face contorted with horrified terror. A ballpoint pen pierced through her neck from right to left, her right hand gripping it tightly, her knuckles a ghastly white. Blood soaked the front of her hospital gown, dripping onto the tiled floor. On the walls beside her, like two crimson flowers in bloom, specks of blood radiated outwards in a spray-like pattern.

No one at the school knew about Wang Xinxin's death; people were still talking about Qu Muxue's inexplicable fall. That night, Zhao Na, who witnessed Qu Muxue's body, couldn't bear the gruesome scene and fell ill. She's been recuperating at home for the past few days, her weak body constantly feeling chills.

10

On the night Wang Xinxin died, Zhao Na's parents went out to a friend's party, leaving her alone at home. The twentieth floor was extremely quiet at night, with only the raging north wind occasionally rattling the glass windows.

The television was blasting loudly, and the heater was on too high, making the room unbearably hot. But Zhao Na felt comfortable; she even turned on all the lights in the living room for added warmth. Qu Muxue's death was too horrific; she couldn't bear to be alone in the quiet house. Just thinking about it made her tremble uncontrollably.

The TV was playing a DVD of the Korean drama "Sad Love Song," which Zhao Na had watched countless times, each time moved to tears by the love story. But this time, she didn't cry, not because she'd watched it so many times she was numb, but because she wasn't paying attention to the plot at all. She didn't dare think about school, much less Qu Muxue; she just sat there, staring at the TV screen, her mind completely blank.

"Knock, knock, knock"—someone knocked on the door, but it didn't attract Zhao Na's attention. She remained seated on the sofa, staring blankly at the television. After a pause, the knocking resumed, this time louder. Zhao Na paused, glancing at the quartz clock on the wall. Ten o'clock. Her parents wouldn't be home this early, but for a stranger visiting, this time seemed too late.

"Coming." The knocking was still urging her on. Zhao Na responded, slipped on her slippers, and jogged to the front door. Grabbing the lock, she habitually peeked through the peephole into the hallway. No one was there, but the motion-sensor lights were on. As if suddenly remembering something, anger crept onto her beautiful face. She left the door, cursing and swearing at the playful children in the building.

Leaning back on the sofa, Zhao Na watched a DVD for a while, then yawned, feeling a little sleepy. Just then, the annoying knocking started again. Her almond-shaped eyes widened, she jumped off the sofa, barefoot, and stormed to the door. A sliver of gold shone through the peephole—the light from the hallway. Before she even reached the door, the knocking stopped again.

"You little rascals, I'll get you when I catch you, hmph!" Zhao Na tiptoed to the door, holding her breath as she peered in. The hallway, brightly lit by a single incandescent bulb, remained empty; not a soul in sight. She gritted her teeth and cursed, about to turn and leave, when she suddenly stopped. She remembered a detail: after the two knocks, she hadn't heard any footsteps.

Standing motionless behind the door, Zhao Na deduced that the children hadn't left after knocking, but had instead hidden themselves, intending to play another prank. The only place where they could hide was under her door, a blind spot through the peephole. She decided to wait and see, determined to catch those naughty boys red-handed.

She waited for ages, but there was still no sound from outside. Zhao Na couldn't hold back any longer. Filled with anger, she flung open the door. However, the scene outside made the curses that were about to escape her lips. There was no one at the door. She racked her brains, but still couldn't understand what was going on. She could only slam the door shut in anger and slump into the sofa, sulking.

The knocking started again. Zhao Na jumped up and rushed to the door, about to unleash a torrent of abuse, when she suddenly froze. This time, the knocking was faint and urgent, and more importantly, the peephole was completely dark, offering no light whatsoever. A strange tension gripped her; the stairwell separated by a thin door felt eerily unsettling.

"Who is it?" Zhao Na asked tentatively, feeling her voice was a little unsteady. The knocking continued, but there was no answer. She took a breath, hesitating whether she should look through the peephole, when just then, a light illuminated it. She cautiously approached, but the brightly lit hallway was still empty, and the knocking stopped abruptly.

How could this be? Who's playing this prank? Zhao Na suddenly felt the indoor heating was too strong, and her back began to sweat. She carefully pressed her glasses against the cool, peephole-like frame. The hallway was bright and empty, filled with an unsettling silence. Her gaze swept around the hallway, finally settling on the gray shadows where the light didn't reach.

There, it looked like a shadow, curled up, making no sound. Her eyes stung, and Zhao Na blinked gently. Looking again, strangely, the shadow was gone. Just as she was wondering what was going on, a dark spot caught her eye. Her gaze was immediately drawn to it; it was the blind spot of the peephole, just below her own door.

The darkness expanded, and Zhao Na finally discerned that it was the top of a person's head. Damn it! Couldn't resist revealing itself, huh? She thought bitterly, staring intently at the person who was gradually standing up. Hair—all she could see was hair, matted together in clumps, as if it hadn't been washed in ages. Even after the person was fully upright, she could still only see hair. Her first thought was that the person was facing away from the door, and judging from that long hair, it must be a woman.

"You idiot, what are you doing?" Zhao Na's brows furrowed with anger. The woman outside the door stood motionless for a long time, then abruptly took a step towards the stairwell, and stopped again. She raised two pale hands, their nails black, and the crisscrossing veins beneath her skin were also black, like a spider web.

Zhao Na was startled; she had never seen such terrifying hands. Those hands were now embedded in the flowing hair, suddenly parting it to the sides. A woman's face, even more horrifying than those hands, was exposed to the light. Beneath the pale, bluish skin, black veins crisscrossed, seemingly dividing the face into countless small pieces. The lips were deathly pale, dry, and cracked, forming numerous parallel vertical lines. Especially striking were the eyes, unfathomably black, completely filled with black, with not a trace of white visible.

The owner of that face lunged straight at the peephole, letting out a sharp, piercing "woof woof." Zhao Na gasped in surprise, leaning against the door before slumping down into a limp seat.

11

Waking up in her mother's warm embrace, Zhao Na found herself lying on the sofa. The TV and DVD player were off, and the sound of running water came from the bathroom.

"Nana, you really don't know how to take care of yourself." The mother scolded, looking down at her daughter in her arms. "If you're sleepy from watching TV, go wash up and go to bed. Why are you sleeping on the sofa?"

"Mom, I..." Zhao Na's mind was filled with the terrifying scene from earlier, but she couldn't understand how she ended up lying on the sofa.

"Alright, Nana, after your dad finishes his shower, you should go take a shower and go to bed. You're only just getting better and you're already so careless, really."

Zhao Na didn't hear a word of her mother's distressed accusations. She just frowned, thinking about her dreamlike experience. Ultimately, she could only explain it all as a nightmare. Perhaps it really was just a terrible dream she had while she was asleep. Thinking this, she felt relieved.

Zhao Na slept soundly through the night, not waking up until noon the next day. After lunch, she felt rather bored, having been cooped up at home for so many days. She decided to go shopping in the afternoon and buy some clothes; she hadn't bought any new clothes in a long time.

The afternoon sun was lovely, warm and comforting. Zhao Na spent the afternoon shopping alone, buying one or two outfits. In the evening, she ate at McDonald's and took a taxi home. A young, unfamiliar security guard sat in the security room on the first floor; he was quite handsome, with thick eyebrows and large eyes. While waiting for the elevator, she couldn't help but glance at him a few more times.

With a "ding," the elevator doors opened silently. Zhao Na stepped inside and pressed the button for the twentieth floor. After the doors closed, she was left alone in the elevator. Her reflection was mirrored on all four sides of the elevator. She had never been used to this kind of elevator; it felt like she was surrounded by cold, impersonal people, enveloping her in a narrow space.

The elevator seemed to be going particularly slowly today, with a clicking sound overhead that was making her irritable. Zhao Na lightly tapped her right toe on the ground, looking up at the changing numbers on the floor display, silently praying that the elevator wouldn't malfunction. She felt that she might have a slight case of claustrophobia, always feeling a vague sense of unease in such confined spaces.

Life is often unpredictable; what we fear most is often the most likely to happen. Just as the elevator reached the eighteenth floor, it suddenly shuddered violently, made a strange noise, and then abruptly stopped. The elevator lights flickered a few times and then went out, leaving only a dim, dim emergency light.

A power outage? Zhao Na felt a surge of panic. Desperate, she lunged at the steel elevator door, pounding on it and screaming at the top of her lungs, "Is anyone outside? I'm trapped in the elevator! Help!"

After calling for a long time until her voice was hoarse, Zhao Na received no response from outside the door. Panting, she took a step back, leaned against the elevator wall, and rummaged through her bag for her phone. Her parents should have been home from get off work by now. She dialed their number, but before the call could connect, the phone shut down due to low battery. She tried to turn it on several times without success, and finally put it away in frustration. Her gaze fell helplessly on the row of elevator buttons, and she was overjoyed to see the emergency stop button. Without hesitation, she pressed it hard.

There was no response. Zhao Na was utterly desperate. Clutching the paper bag containing her clothes, she sat down in the corner of the elevator. She didn't know how long she waited; the air in the elevator grew increasingly thin, and she gradually felt difficulty breathing. Waves of panic washed over her, making her dizzy and disoriented. Faintly, she heard a sound coming from the elevator doors. Overwhelmed with joy, she stood up groggily and weakly pounded on the elevator doors: "Is someone outside? Help me! Help me!"

The elevator doors opened very slowly. A steady stream of cool air rushed in. Two hands gripped the door hinges, as if exerting tremendous force; veins bulged on the back of the hands. A beam of pale green light shone on Zhao Na's face, staining her sallow complexion with an unsightly yellowish-green hue.

The disorientation from lack of oxygen prevented Zhao Na from questioning the green light. A dazed smile played on her lips as she gazed up at the open doorway. The elevator hadn't yet reached the eighteenth floor; the doorway was barely three feet high. A hand silently reached down, hovering steadily in front of Zhao Na's eyes.

"Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!" Zhao Na murmured her thanks, raising her right arm to grab the hand tightly, as if afraid that life would slip away from her. The hand also clenched its fingers, holding Zhao Na's palm. It was as cold as a block of ancient ice, making Zhao Na shiver involuntarily.

With hands clenched tightly, the other hand began to exert force, slowly pulling Zhao Na's body up. Zhao Na could now see outside; it was pitch black everywhere, except for a green light behind the person pulling her, steadily shining into her eyes. She couldn't see the person clearly; it was just a blurry black figure with long, flowing hair—presumably a woman.

Zhao Na gripped the ground with her left hand, the force causing her face to flush red. The woman continued to pull her, her body leaning forward. A cold breath brushed against her face, carrying a faint, foul odor, like rotting meat. Her brows furrowed as she endured the stench, squinting to make out the woman's face.

"Hehehe...did you see clearly?" the woman suddenly spoke, her voice hoarse, like a rusty saw scraping across a stone. From the side, a light suddenly flickered on, also green, eerie, making one feel even colder.

"Ah—" Zhao Na could finally see the woman's face clearly. The horror of that face was something she would never forget. It was the same face from yesterday, the terrifying face in the cat's eyes. Now, that face wore a smile, but the smile only stayed on its face. The black, flowing eyes contained no trace of laughter, and a deep, coldness made Zhao Na's heart gradually freeze.

The smile vanished abruptly from that face, and two plumes of black smoke billowed from those eyes, so dark they were obscured by any other color. Zhao Na felt a tightening around her neck, was thrown up, then fell, then was thrown up and fell again. Amidst the deafening crashes, screams grew fainter, the elevator car swayed violently, and the overhead steel cables groaned in pain…