The man who intervened fought fiercely with the one who held me captive. In the end, my captor fled, leaving my rescuer bloodied and battered. With gentle words, he reached out and pulled me to my feet.
"Hey, little one, where are your parents?" I screamed and tried to run, but the man followed at a steady pace, never rushing. No matter how fast I ran, he was always right behind me.
Finally, I couldn’t run anymore, and the man was panting as he kept pace with me.
"You’re pretty fast, little one. Heh, I’m Jack Zhang—I hardly ever exercise, almost couldn’t keep up with you."
He smiled and walked toward me. I was exhausted and hungry, unable to run any farther. When he reached out, I squeezed my eyes shut, bracing myself—but he only placed his hand softly on my forehead, gentle as ever.
"Let’s get some food. Come on."
I didn’t dare go inside the shop, so Jack Zhang bought two servings and sat with me on the curb, sharing a quiet meal.
"What’s your name?" he asked.
"Shorty," I finally mumbled. Even with this kind man, I couldn’t let my guard down. Somehow, I felt people might be scarier than ghosts.
At the orphanage, I was always the smallest, so everyone called me that. Jack Zhang laughed heartily, shook his head, then pushed himself up from his knees to stand.
He chuckled, "No real name? Then let me give you one. From now on, you’ll be called Ethan Zhang."
I stared at this man, uncertain and wary. He smiled gently and extended his hand toward me.
"Want to come with me? My home isn’t rich, but I promise you’ll never go hungry."
As if compelled by fate, I reached out and placed my hand in his. I was tired, defeated. Jack Zhang lifted me onto his back.
"You’re so light, Xiao Yuan," he laughed.
Jack Zhang’s back was broad and warm. For the first time outside the orphanage, I felt the comfort of human kindness.
We returned to a tiny apartment, barely seventy square meters. A gentle and beautiful woman was cooking dinner.
"Who’s the child, honey?" she asked.
"From today on, he’s our son," Jack Zhang said with a laugh. The woman gasped, looking at me. I shrank into the corner, still afraid.
Jack Zhang and his wife talked about me. The gentle woman cried. Later, Jack Zhang took me to the police station to register me, and from then on, I became part of their family.
Every day, Jack Zhang and his wife would spend time teaching me to read and write. After all, I’d started school suddenly, and I understood nothing. They greeted me with smiles, but I never managed even the slightest smile myself. The house was haunted—ghosts would come by every so often, playing relentless pranks.
For the first time, my parents scolded me, all because of a ghost’s prank—and I insisted it was the ghost’s doing.
Jack Zhang struck me for the first time. I don’t know why, but it felt as if a hole had opened in my heart, letting in a rush of cold wind. When they weren’t watching, I slipped out of the house.
I ran far away, arriving at the park where Jack Zhang had first taken me. Alone on the swing, misery welled up inside me. I didn’t want to go back—not to that house.
I started to miss those days wandering the city, aimless and free.
“You brat, it’s so late—aren’t you planning to come home?”
Jack Zhang came over, panting. By now, I understood much more. I looked at him coldly.
"You’re not really my parents, are you? I don’t matter to you—you could take me or leave me, isn’t that right?"
Jack Zhang fell silent, crouching before me with a gentle smile.
"Xiao Yuan, I’m sorry. Dad hit you. Soon, we’ll be moving—to somewhere a little bigger. Come on, let’s go home. Don’t make your mom worry."
Jack Zhang reached out his hand. With a loud smack, I knocked it away.
"I don’t have a home. Stop caring about me. You’re not my real parents…"
Suddenly, Jack Zhang stood up, glaring at me. The smile vanished from his face as he raised his hand. I shut my eyes in fear.
After a long while, I opened my eyes and saw Jack Zhang with his back to me, crouched on the ground.
"Xiao Yuan, climb on. Let’s go home."
I hesitated, refusing to climb onto Jack Zhang’s back. He turned his head and gave me a gentle smile.
"Even if we’re not related by blood, even if I hit you, Xiao Yuan, I am your father. Come on, it’s late. Your mom will worry."
I stared at Jack Zhang, unable to suppress the surge of emotion inside me. I threw myself onto his back, and he stood up, carrying me.
"Dad, I’m so hungry."
Maybe it was the first time I truly called Jack Zhang ‘Dad.’ Then I asked him why he’d brought me home in the first place.
"On a whim, I guess. Since I brought you back, I had to raise you. My wife and I haven’t had kids in years, anyway." He laughed.
The memory broke off there. Darkness surrounded me. I stood quietly as a faint red glow began to shine. Gradually, I saw him—it was John Chou.
John Chou sat in midair before me, legs crossed, a half-smile on his face, looking every bit the master. His hands rested comfortably at his sides.
"Remember now, brother?" he chuckled. "Once, you feared and hated both people and ghosts. But you listened to the Blue Wraith, didn’t you? All right, let them see—those things inside you, the important things, can’t be erased so easily, can they?"
"No, I’ll never forget. Everything along the way—my friends, my parents, my love. What has existed can’t be forgotten."
"Go, brother. Heh…"
Suddenly, I opened my eyes. Black chains still bound my arms, legs, and head. I looked around: dense tiny words, and rows of story titles.
Those tiny words spun endlessly.
"Awake now, Ethan Zhang?" A voice thick with resonance and heavy with nasal undertone reached me.
"Who are you?"
"My name is Horror Stories. I was created."
I looked around in shock. The spinning words began to close in on me.
"What do you want?"
"Core—human fear, anger, anxiety, all those emotions have never stopped flowing with time. I want you to be my core, to make these horror stories stronger. Accept your fate."
I laughed.
"My parents, and Lan… and my wife, Lan Ruoxi—where are they?"
"Don’t worry. They already exist within the story. You’ll see them soon. The story will go on forever, never stopping."
Suddenly, the spinning words stopped about four or five meters away from me. Before my eyes, a string of text opened up like a doorway—and a figure stepped through.
It was Ken Wang. I stared at him, stunned.
"The story needs a core—and a writer. Now we have both."
Ken Wang shouted as soon as he saw me.
"Ethan, this horror story—my father wrote it. He never let me read these things, but one time, I snuck into his study and saw them. Monster, what did you do to my father? And my brother, my wife?"
A burst of wild laughter followed.
"Hmph. Your father is dead. You don’t have a brother, a wife, or a mother—everything is just a story your father wrote. Didn’t you notice?"
Ken Wang’s face fell instantly.
"Ken Wang, now I want you to replace your father as the writer. Work for me until you die."
As soon as the voice faded, a transparent platform appeared above me, with a writing desk, a thick stack of paper, and a pen beside it.
"All right, get to work."
Ken Wang slowly approached the desk, as if an invisible force pressed him into the chair.
"I won’t write. I’d rather die than write…"
"Where are they? I want to see them—damn it, let me go!" I shouted, and the voice laughed wildly.
"That couple—they’re not really your parents, are they? Ethan Zhang, I never thought I wouldn’t be able to devour you. Looks like John Chou’s power is still protecting you. But it won’t be long before you’re completely consumed."
"I wouldn’t be so sure."
Suddenly, another voice rang out. A man appeared above us, holding a small notebook and a pen.
"Simon Wang, you’re still alive? Impossible."
The force binding Ken Wang vanished. He stood up, trembling, staring at the man above—dressed in slippers, white pajamas, and a blanket over his shoulders. Suddenly, the man hurled the notebook and pen to Ken Wang.
With a snap, the chains binding me broke. I felt I could move again. Then, as an unseen force pushed Ken Wang and me, the words entwining us split open a passage.
"Dad, what—?" Ken Wang called out. The man above, Simon Wang, just smiled.
"Ken, there’s no point explaining. Hurry and go. Follow what I wrote and you’ll find the way out. Ethan Zhang, you too—go back. With those Ghost Sovereigns helping you, these people can’t touch you."
"Wait—what about my parents? My wife?"
"They can never come back." In that instant, Simon Wang’s words sent me plunging into an abyss. Ken Wang and I were swallowed by blinding white light.