Doomsday Wonderland

Doomsday Wonderland Chapter 1567: The Voice in the Notebook

Chapter 1567: The Voice in the Notebook

‘It’s quite funny,’

Qiao Yuansi thought.

Firstly, she and this world didn’t need to be saved. She didn’t know what hero role Sh.o.r.eis was trying to play or why he would do this thankless task. Secondly, could he really restore everyone in the world to their original state? Going door to door with a book, educating people back like a missionary spreading his religion?

She was amused by the image in her mind and giggled a few times. However, her laughter faded, lower and lower until it disappeared. She suddenly found it not so funny and sheepishly sat back in the bathtub.

The bathroom, she realized, was indeed a very suitable place for imprisoning someone.

There was a thin blanket in the bathtub underneath her, acting as a cus.h.i.+on. She could curl up and sleep on it at night. The length of the chain was just enough to allow her to step out of the bathtub and sit down on the nearby toilet when needed. If the bottled water ran out, she could also sustain herself with the water in the sink. Basic necessities were all taken care of. If she wanted, she could even take a bath.

After two days of tossing and turning, sitting and standing, knocking on the walls, and kicking the pipes in the bathroom—probably two days, as it was hard to tell the exact time in the dimly lit bathroom with the light always on—Qiao Yuansi finally began to ponder another question.

Why didn’t Sh.o.r.eis get angry at her? Why was he going to great lengths to save her?

‘Don’t tell me it’s because he has feelings for me.’

Their time together was probably less than a month. Saying it was for her would be too cheesy—besides, what real feelings existed in the world? Whether with the same or opposite s.e.x, these things were all driven by desire, she thought.

Sometimes when she was annoyed, she would take off her face to breathe. Though it looked very soft, if you pinched it, you would find that it had a hard and resilient texture, allowing it to replicate the contours of her facial bones.

Qiao Yuansi held up her face. A small beam of light coming through the bathroom’s small window just happened to s.h.i.+ne through her skin, casting it as a blurry ma.s.s of flesh color.

Faces didn’t necessarily need to be permanently attached to the head, did they? What were faces for if not for others to see? Why keep them on when not needed, especially when they weren’t breathable? Wasn’t it more practical to wear them when needed and take them off when not?

She believed this was a remarkable human evolution.

Sh.o.r.eis had provided her with plenty, including food, water, toilet paper, and even spare clothes and pillows. After spending a few days in a daze in the bathroom, Qiao Yuansi began to get used to bathroom living. After all, in those expensive big cities, many people’s entire living s.p.a.ce was no bigger than this bathroom.

This was another great advantage of being a Changeling: they adapted exceptionally quickly.

‘Just wait,’

she thought. When Sh.o.r.eis transformed, he’d realize he owed her a big favor.

However, as the time of her imprisonment approached a week, her mood deteriorated. She hardly ever wore her face anymore. To be honest, if she could vent her anger by tearing someone’s flesh with her teeth, she wouldn’t hesitate.

Would Sh.o.r.eis not make it back in time?

His infection was not as severe as when she was attacked in the park, so if he did nothing, he would likely transform within two days. If he resisted strongly, perhaps he could extend it to a week. The problem was, if the transformation completed before he came back, that would be a disaster.

Even though Qiao Yuansi was now a Changeling, she knew well that relying on one to remember her and release her was risky. The food on the bathroom sink would eventually run out. If she wanted to be freed from the bathroom soon, she had to rely on Sh.o.r.eis, who still had her in his heart.

On the tenth day, the food finally ran out.

During this time, the doorbell at Qiao Yuansi’s house rang several times, probably because her colleagues were coming to find her when she didn’t go to work. She screamed in the bathroom until her voice was nearly torn, yet those doorbell rings stopped after a while without an answer, and the house returned to silence.

On the fourteenth day, she was so weak that she no longer had the energy to curse.

She just lay motionless in the bathtub, her body weakening and softening, like a small river about to flow apart, not even feeling uncomfortable on the hard and coa.r.s.e pool beneath her.

Most of the time, she spent in bouts of dozing and waking, gazing at the daylight through the window. With the last bit of her energy, she put on her face, in case Sh.o.r.eis returned; she would still need to rely on that face to gain his sympathy.

This was the last thought that floated through Qiao Yuansi’s mind before she drifted into a drowsy sleep.

She could not explain why, but when the sound of keys seemed to ring at the door, it gradually made her open her eyes.

She stared blankly at the white tiles for a while before slowly remembering who she was and where she was. When she clearly heard the door being pushed open and hitting the wall, she mustered a bit of strength and propped herself halfway out of the bathtub.

After hitting the wall, the door seemed never to have been closed again.

The footsteps walking directly toward the bathroom were slow, as if dragging along step by step. Qiao Yuansi looked up at the window and saw that it was already deep into the night, and outside the pitch-black window was so quiet that not a sound could be heard. She turned her head towards the door, her attention wholly captured by those slow, dragging footsteps, becoming more and more taut.

A tall, thin figure in black, with its head half-hung, walked into the bathroom.

It was Sh.o.r.eis—thankfully, he had finally come back to let her out, and Qiao Yuansi breathed a sigh of relief.

His hair hung down, concealing his cheeks faintly, with no trace of blood. At first glance, he seemed entirely uninfected. Sh.o.r.eis looked at the litter of empty packaging on the floor, seemingly unaware that the food was gone and she was starving, showing no reaction. He slowly walked over to the bathtub and sat down on the floor mat.

Qiao Yuansi couldn’t help but sniffle.

What happened? Had he transformed? She had many questions, and what she wanted most was food; but her mouth opened and closed, unable to make a sound.

“On the third month after I left you,” Sh.o.r.eis began, his head low, seemingly looking at the bathtub or her shoulder. His voice was so soft that Qiao Yuansi found it hard to hear. “I settled in a small town called Jide in the southwest. I thought then that in such a small place, the transformation might not have spread yet, and I could have a few days of peace.”

Why recall this when she was about to faint from hunger?

This frustration and anger seemed to inject Qiao Yuansi with some energy—she managed to prop herself up again, leaning on the bathtub, finally speaking with a hoa.r.s.e voice, “Food… give me…”

Sh.o.r.eis slightly lifted his head. His once clear eyes now seemed fogged, turning from crystalline blue to a swirling gray, staring blankly at Qiao Yuansi, as if he didn’t recognize her for a moment.

He must have been affected, and the transformation process was probably still ongoing—how he managed to hold on for so long was astonis.h.i.+ng.

He ignored her, not taking food from his ring. Rather than deliberately starving her, he seemed completely unaware that Qiao Yuansi had spoken.

The memories had just begun, and his thoughts suddenly broke off, drifting to other places. He pondered for a moment and then suddenly continued from the disconnected point, saying, “That notebook of yours… I’ve kept it with me, read it several times.”

Huh?

“Those were all the words you wanted to say to me but didn’t get a chance to say them.” He reached out towards the bathtub, as if wanting to touch Qiao Yuansi’s face. However, that thin, pale hand merely pa.s.sed over her cheek, and with a “swoosh” sound, the chain on Qiao Yuansi’s wrist disappeared.

“You wrote down those words at the very end. With each sentence you wrote, a piece of you disappeared. After you finished writing, this person,” he looked at Qiao Yuansi, “memorized what you wanted to say. I was quite pleased because at least those words were spoken out loud once.”

There was no chain now, but she couldn’t run away. Qiao Yuansi coughed twice, knowing that she wouldn’t get anything to eat unless she listened to his nonsense. Feeling no emotion, but thinking of her own safety, she attempted a mournful expression, sniffed, and said, “You…”

“The smell is too strong, isn’t it?”

Sh.o.r.eis slightly curled up, his shoulders loosely drooping, resting his head on the edge of the bathtub. His messy, curly black hair contrasted against the white porcelain, as if waiting for her to reach out and touch it.

Qiao Yuansi didn’t reach out.

She feared getting her hand covered in blood.

From the front, Sh.o.r.eis seemed uninjured, but the scent of blood in the bathroom had become so strong it was choking. She raised her head, looking behind him for a moment.

A trail of blood, dragged in, twisted behind Sh.o.r.eis, as if all that lost, ma.s.sive amount of blood was still unwillingly seeking a way back into his body.