Chapter 74: The Threshold

Li Lan had hoped that having a normal son would provide her with an emotional anchor. But tragically, the boy she gave birth to bore the same illness she did.

She fell into despair.

But Li Zhuiyuan didn’t think he’d done anything wrong.

Even the mightiest church couldn’t sell indulgences to someone not yet born.

The moment the boy stopped calling her “mom” and started calling her “Li Lan,” it marked the severance of their bond.

Keep struggling if you like. I don’t care to watch anymore.

Better to externalize your pain than turn it inward.

Li Zhuiyuan set down his cup. He was getting ready to leave.

Snap!

It was like someone yanked the pull string on the old lamp at Great-Grandpa’s house—Li Lan was suddenly extinguished.

She turned cold and detached. Deep in her eyes, something seemed to be peeling away rapidly.

She slowly looked up and met the gaze of the boy standing before her.

The moment their eyes met, Li Zhuiyuan felt his heart lurch violently. It ached terribly, as if it might burst through his throat at any second.

In his mind, the image of himself staring into a mirror flashed to the forefront.

It was her. And it was also him.

He knew this “person” before him, because he housed one within himself too. And ever since that Luck-Shifting Ritual, it had surfaced once—rebranding the name “Wei Zhengdao” into “Fake Zhengdao.”

In truth, Li Lan had already lost.

Whoever speaks first, loses.

The call to Aunt Zhang’s corner shop half a year ago had been her last fit of hysteria.

She had gone from being a mostly normal person who occasionally relapsed to a patient who was rarely, if ever, normal.

It was her worst fear realized—and quite possibly, his future as well.

“The strange and the thrilling raise your threshold quickly. Once that threshold grows too high to be satisfied, you’ll voluntarily become like her.”

It was still Li Lan’s voice, gentler now, but it sounded like she was evaluating a defective machine.

She even considered herself a machine.

Li Zhuiyuan clenched his jaw, bracing himself on the table. His expression kept shifting, his body beginning to tremble.

“You must’ve chosen an anchor too.

She’s your sanctuary.

And you? Are you support, or parasite?”

Li Lan leaned in close, peering intently at his face. “You’ll probably hold out longer than she did.”

Li Zhuiyuan said nothing. His fingernails had already scraped the red lacquer off the table.

Li Lan reached out and gently stroked his head.

“Go ahead and play. When you’re too tired to keep playing, when you can’t play anymore, my real son will come find me.”

Li Zhuiyuan shoved the table hard with both hands, stumbling backward several steps. He only avoided collapsing by hitting the cupboard behind him.

He stared at the woman before him in shock.

Li Lan no longer looked at him. She stood up, walked to the sink, and began washing her hands meticulously.

“You really are mother and son. Just like she used to be, you insist on leaving filth on yourself. Isn’t it better to be clean? Being human is already filthy enough.”

After washing up, she tidied the papers and reports on the table and packed them into her briefcase.

Then she left.

Two clicks—one for the door opening, one for it shutting.

Li Zhuiyuan leaned against the cupboard and slowly slid to the floor, clutching his head with both hands.

Just now, Li Lan had shown him what it looked like when the illness completely took over.

A crushing suffocation closed in on him. He felt as if he’d been sealed inside a glass jar, where no amount of pounding could make a sound.

He felt like he was going mad. The pressure was grinding him into dust.

His eyes landed on the kettle on the dining table.

He stood, walked over, grabbed the kettle with his left hand, and as he tilted it downward, he extended his right palm underneath.

Inside was freshly boiled water.

The spout tipped further. Steam and scalding water spilled out.

Drip, drip, drip…

The boiling water hit the floor.

He pulled his hand back just in time.

Can’t do this. Ah Li would be upset.

Huff… huff… huff…

For a moment, that suffocating space let in a thread of fresh air. The boy drank it in greedily.

He walked out of the house and closed the door.

Click!

Li Zhuiyuan lifted his hands and touched his face. The sound of the door closing just now felt like a stapler, pinning the human skin mask back onto his face.

Then, he opened the door and shut it again. And again. And again.

Click! Click! Click!

Yeah. Better pin it a few more times.

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