Chapter 8: Station 21: Tolerance

Chapter 8: Station 21: Tolerance

At nine in the evening, the lights in the dormitory were turned off.

In the unsettling night, the rhythmic breathing of those around him became a peculiar source of comfort.

Thud. Thud.

Si Shuhao initially thought he had misheard.

Thud. Thud.

Someone was knocking on the door.

A mechanical voice, resembling a mournful whisper of the night wind, penetrated through:

"...Open up, room inspection."

It was the dorm supervisor, whose visits the rules discouraged them from welcoming.

Breathing gradually subsided, and when Su Bo awoke, she tugged at Si Shuhao's clothing. The two of them hid under the covers, taking tiny breaths that were almost inaudible.

The dorm supervisor knocked for a while, and just as they thought she was about to leave...

Click.

It was the sound of a door opening.

Someone had opened the door?!

Su Bo tried to peek out in shock, but Si Shuhao quickly grabbed her head and pressed it back down onto the pillow.

It was as if the creaking groans of Kayako, a character near death, were drawing closer from afar.

They clung tightly together, holding their breath, their teeth clenched in fear without them realizing.

The eerie creaking stopped right in front of their bed.

Si Shuhao could feel Su Bo trembling in her arms, and she wasn't much better off herself.

Muscles taut to their limits, she was even afraid that the sound of her own heartbeat might draw the attention of the malevolent entity.

As the giggling receded once more, the door clicked shut, and she felt almost too exhausted to continue.

When all was quiet around her, Su Bo cautiously lifted the covers to check if it was safe. Before she could fully pull the blanket off her head, Si Shuhao abruptly pressed her hand back down onto her abdomen.

Unable to speak, Si Shuhao pressed down twice more forcefully to signal for her not to act impulsively.

She suspected that this might be a cunning ploy by the ominous presence. It could have pretended to leave, only to stand right beside the bed, waiting for them to slip up before striking ruthlessly.

This was a scenario that Si Shuhao had experienced before in the previous world of the Unseen Realm.

Though ghosts and monsters were omnipresent in the Unseen Realm, for some reason, they didn't seem able to kill at will. They needed their victims to "make mistakes" so that they could justify taking their lives.

To make them "err," these spirits would go to great lengths to deceive, mislead, threaten, or even lure them into traps.

Fortunately, this world seemed relatively straightforward, with most rules laid out in plain sight.

But what she feared were those rules that had been erased.

What if the rule was that one would die if caught by the dorm supervisor not sleeping?

She dared not take that chance.

Out of caution for their lives, she and Su Bo never left their covers, thus unaware of the specifics of what was happening.

Ming Yiyang and Yan Qiling, on the other hand, had a clear view.

The moment the door creaked open, both of them lifted their eyes to look.

It wasn't the dorm supervisor who entered but a "person" dressed in a female school uniform.

This "person" carried a heavy charred scent and moved forward slowly, emitting a hoarse, rattling sound from its throat.

It seemed to be unable to see, bumping into things repeatedly as it walked.

Taking advantage of the faint light, Yan Qiling discerned its face.

That was a thoroughly burned and carbonized corpse, a face devoid of eyes, mouth, or nose. Only charred flesh, remnants that hadn't been entirely consumed by flames, remained, grotesquely preserving some semblance of its original form.

It seemed to be scenting something.

Yan Qiling noticed its interest in his fan, as well as the remaining footprints on the ground and the trace of someone having sat on the stool.

The common denominator among these objects was... blood.

This "person" didn't leave. An eerie gust of wind, seemingly from nowhere, gently shut the door, producing the sound of closure.

Defying the laws of physics, it climbed vertically up the wall to the ceiling, then remained motionless like a spider.

Yan Qiling began to formulate a hypothesis about its identity: This might very well be the "filth" that the dorm supervisor planned to cleanse tomorrow.

Unlike the newcomers, he had a deeper understanding of the rules of this timeless realm.

Ghosts were bound to kill according to the "rules" because this world wasn't created for them to plunder life.

On the contrary, it was designed to confine and dissolve them.

Yet, everything changed with the advent of the Prison Train.

Gently running his fingers over the ticket on his right arm, he knew the countdown was ticking relentlessly.

As they were engrossed in their pursuit within this microcosm, countless others just like them were grappling with other ghosts across the world.

Fully conscious, he was no different from his usual state.

Focusing on the sounds of breathing around him, he couldn't help but pay attention to the person sleeping on the bed opposite him.

Ming Yiyang's breaths sounded like those of someone asleep. However, he knew that wasn't the case.

He recalled the moment when the other had summoned the Pen Spirit, and how their eyes had instantly transformed into a deep purple hue.

Violet Purity Yin-Yang Eyes of Qingdu.

It was considered the sign of the reincarnation of the Purple Emperor, and only those with the purest Yang and spirit bodies had a chance to awaken this innate talent.

Possessing these divine eyes allowed one not only to resist illusions and see ghosts and deities but also directly harm malevolent entities, annihilating them in an instant.

Just like today's black mist, unable to approach, let alone touch without igniting into white flames.

He felt the evil pencil in his pocket.

Those who dared to open their eyes during the ghost pencil ritual had all perished. Back then, he genuinely wanted to see what abilities this person possessed, so he intentionally provoked them to open their eyes.

If the other party couldn't resist, he had a way to make the black mist choose him halfway, diverting the danger. He hadn't expected Ming Yiyang to be truly skilled and fearless.

The black mist couldn't parasitize either side and was forcefully dispersed. Otherwise, tonight might not have been so peaceful.

And the Spirit Binding Rope...

Recalling how the rope had been controlled by the other party, he fell into deep thought.

...Ming is a rather uncommon surname. If this person hasn't changed their name to deceive spirits, perhaps it isn't a coincidence.

Yan Qiling knew he was not a forgiving person.

He had never been one.

It was due to his exceptional memory.

Those with keen memories would always pay a heavier psychological price when they decided to be tolerant, compared to the average individual.

Yan Qiling believed not everyone deserved the cost of his tolerance.

But if Ming Yiyang truly was that destined person, he could attempt to be forgiving.

The deep blue windowpanes gradually illuminated, as the misty white light resembled thin, ashen smoke.

Daybreak had arrived.

Ming Yiyang casually got out of bed and went to the bathroom to wash his face and brush his teeth, as if completely unaware of the creature lying on the ceiling.

Yan Qiling also sat up, coincidentally encountering the person drying their hair who had just emerged.

The young man carelessly draped a towel over his shoulder, his fluffy silver hair shimmering almost translucent in the light, reminiscent of a stray white puppy one might find on the street.

Despite this person having nothing to do with the word "small."

"Get up now that you're awake," Ming Yiyang said, seemingly having forgotten last night's conflict. He smiled, narrowing his pure black eyes at him, "Your hair is a mess."

A flicker of surprise passed through Yan Qiling's striking heterochromatic red and blue eyes. Indeed, he promptly put on his shoes and headed for the bathroom.

Ming Yiyang felt like he had figured out this person's Achilles' heel.

He was fastidious and cared about his appearance.

In reality, Yan Qiling's hair was quite normal, with its slightly long ends flowing like silk down his back. Some strands curled gently around his shoulders, exuding a tender air of just waking up.

He had meant it as a joke, but hadn't expected the other to take it so seriously.

Yan Qiling, gazing into the mirror, realized that Ming Yiyang had been truthful.

His hair was indeed in a disastrous state, frizzing uncontrollably and with the ends hanging loosely over his shoulders, detracting from his appearance.

Spotting no comb in the bathroom, he grabbed a strand and smoothed it down with his fingers. After a moment's thought, he fished out a small box from his pouch.

With his fingertips touching the transparent gel inside the box, he parted his hair at the back and tied it up into a wolf tail.

The shirt was slightly wrinkled, so he dipped his fingers in water and evenly sprinkled droplets onto the creased areas, repeating this process multiple times to ensure the entire surface was thoroughly wet.

Next, he ran his slender fingers up the damp fabric, and instantly, the once translucent, wet shirt dried, the wrinkles vanishing along with the moisture.

The rusted mirror faithfully reflected his unusually youthful look. The only issue remaining was the loose hem of his shirt.

Thanks to his naturally blessed features, even a loose-fitting shirt paired with dress pants - a combination devoid of design that would shorten anyone's legs - could be worn by him with an air of nonchalant elegance.

But when it came to his appearance, Yan Qiling was never one to settle for mediocrity.

Buttoning his shirt all the way to the bottom, he casually folded the lower part and tucked it into his pants, creating a relaxed yet defined silhouette at the waist.

The excess fabric on both sides was neatly folded inward along their natural lines.

The tucked-in portion of the shirt effortlessly produced a carefree cinched effect.

However, after glancing left and right, he took the shirt out, undid the two bottom buttons, and crossed them before folding the edges inward into the shirt.

This time, the gathered waistline appeared more relaxed and voluminous.

Finally satisfied, he unbuttoned the top two buttons, revealing his slender neck, collarbone, and a tantalizing glimpse of pale skin.

With this meticulously adjusted attire, he looked anything but a survivor; instead, he resembled a model preparing for a photoshoot.

Satisfied with his appearance, he emerged from the bathroom.

Ming Yiyang shrugged on his coat, suddenly looking as if he had seen a ghost.

If not for the memory of the filthy creature lurking on the ceiling, he might have mistaken the place for a set of a campus idol drama.

He wasn't particularly sensitive to appearances, but he certainly wasn't blind.

Just-awakened Yan Qiling's hair looked quite natural, but after a trip to the bathroom... clearly, some styling had taken place?

Especially those strands that floated up in an elegant curve, appearing effortless yet remaining steadfastly in place without so much as a flutter – this was not something achievable by Newtonian physics alone.

He wore an expression of disbelief:

"You brought hair wax in with you?"

Yan Qiling replied nonchalantly,

"Yes."

Yes, my foot!

Ming Yiyang watched Yan Qiling pack up, astonishment written all over his face. He couldn't believe that such an item would be concealed within that small pouch.

Moreover, it wasn't just the hair – the clothes seemed... if he recalled correctly, hadn't this fellow been inside for only ten minutes? How could he emerge looking like an entirely different person?

As they spoke, the Hu cousins also stirred awake. Upon catching sight of Yan Qiling's attire, they couldn't help but wear expressions akin to Ming Yiyang's.

After exchanging greetings, there came a polite knocking on the door.

The sounds of washing and grooming suddenly softened, prompting everyone to turn their attention guardedly towards the door.

Yan Qiling opened the door.