Chapter 16: The Hour of Demons

A sudden chill ran down Tan Xueci’s spine. It was just a word on paper, yet it looked cold, sinister, and inexplicably terrifying.

He didn’t dare write anymore. He crumpled the paper into a ball, and just as he was looking for a trash can, Lu Xi hurried over and grabbed him. “President Xu is here. Come with me, quick.”

Tan Xueci didn’t have time to find a bin, so he instinctively stuffed the crumpled paper into the front pocket of his hoodie.

This “President Xu” was Zhai Fang’s benefactor, Xu Zongdu—the boss of Jinyao Entertainment and the largest investor in their film.

Xu Zongdu was in his fifties. He had been an actor in his youth; while not conventionally stunning, his acting was superb. He mostly played supporting villains and had won several Best Supporting Actor awards. Over a decade ago, he stepped back from the limelight to focus on managing his company.

As Tan Xueci and Lu Xi walked over, Xu Zongdu turned, squinted at Tan Xueci, and smiled. “Xiao Ci is here.”

“President Xu,” Tan Xueci greeted him politely.

Zhai Fang rolled his eyes privately. He was in no mood to bicker with Tan Xueci. His face hadn’t fully recovered, and being unable to film was secondary to his bigger worry: Xu Zongdu had messaged him saying he was returning to the country today. If Xu Zongdu saw him looking like a monster, his future would be bleak.

If I’d known, I wouldn’t have done so many procedures at once.

A friend in the industry had introduced him to a plastic surgeon at the First People’s Hospital, claiming the doctor sold a black-market medicine that was incredibly effective and nearly impossible to get. With it, there was no need to worry about post-surgical complications.

Having been in the industry for five years and remaining only semi-famous while getting older, Zhai Fang felt Xu Zongdu losing interest. In a moment of desperation, he sought out that doctor.

Who knew the man would demand 300,000 yuan?

At the time, Zhai Fang felt cheated. The medicine was black, sticky, and smelled foul. For 300,000, he only got three boxes, and was told three doses would lead to a full recovery.

Desperate, he bought it. To his surprise, the effect was miraculous. After just one dose, the swelling on his face vanished completely; it didn’t even look like he’d gone under the knife.

But it only lasted less than a month. A few days ago, his face collapsed overnight. He initially thought it was because of the black water from Tan Xueci’s broken umbrella, but thinking back calmly, his face had already started to sag the day before.

Zhai Fang had to go back to the hospital and spend another 500,000 on medicine.

Even with his wealth, this kind of spending hurt. Fortunately, the medicine still worked, though for some reason, after taking it this time, his body felt heavy and weak.

Xu Zongdu spoke to him several times, but Zhai Fang didn’t hear him. Xu Zongdu’s lips thinned, and his expression soured.

He had kept Zhai Fang for three and a half years and was bored, but he hadn’t found a replacement. He had once seen He Sui take Tan Xueci out to a nightclub; he was very interested in the boy, but Tan Xueci never responded to his advances, and that manager always laughed it off.

He was… losing his patience.

Actually, Zhai Fang’s situation was easy to resolve. If Tan Xueci just said the word, Xu Zongdu would stop the company’s PR efforts for Zhai Fang. Zhai Fang had offended plenty of people in the circle; Tan Xueci wouldn’t even have to do anything—Zhai Fang would fall on his own.

Pity Tan Xueci was too young to understand the benefits of power.

Since retiring, Xu Zongdu occasionally took cameo roles. He hadn’t maintained his physique; he was soft and well-fed, clearly living a comfortable life.

He smiled and waved a hand. “I’m just looking around. Don’t let me stop the filming. Back to work, everyone.”

The director assigned the assistant director to accompany him and called the actors back. When he saw Tan Xueci, he called out, “Xiao Tan.”

“Director He,” Tan Xueci walked over. “Did you need me?”

The director whispered, “Here’s the thing: the actor scheduled for your scene tonight can’t make it. President Xu is going to cameo. You’ll be playing against him tonight.”

Tan Xueci froze. His skin was so pale it was almost translucent, making his long lashes look as dark as wet ink. “But tonight…” he said helplessly.

The director simply patted his shoulder, signaling him to be sensible.

The villain Tan Xueci played, Zhou Xia, was a victim of school bullying. Older students often demanded money from him. Because of his weak personality, he borrowed 300 yuan from a local mahjong parlor owner who offered it. Little did he know, the owner had ulterior motives and used the debt to pressure Zhou Xia into a physical relationship.

At home, Zhou Xia faced only his grandmother’s suffocating nagging; at school, he was a social outcast. His life seemed devoid of joy. Finally pushed to the brink, he pretended to agree to the owner’s demands, then drugged and killed him.

The police didn’t find him at first. The female lead, oblivious, encouraged him to go to university and leave the town together, but Zhou Xia knew he had no future. This event triggered the deep darkness within him.

Tonight’s scene was the confrontation between Zhou Xia and that owner.

“That old bastard,” Lu Xi hissed through gritted teeth after the director left. “He just wants to use the scene to take advantage of you.”

Yet, they couldn’t refuse. How could they? Xu Zongdu saw a vacancy and offered to help. For a former big star to play a minor role for them was considered an honor for the production. Even if he got “handsy” during the scene, Tan Xueci would just have to endure it—it was all for the “script,” after all.

Lu Xi sighed. “Just pretend you were bitten by a dog.”

Tan Xueci couldn’t quit the industry. Since he left home, the Tan family hadn’t given him a cent. He had to cover his own 8,000 yuan monthly psychiatric treatment fees. Lu Xi suspected Mother Tan was counting on this—waiting for him to run out of money, go mad, and die.

Tan Xueci lowered his head and said nothing. He went to film his other scenes first, and by the time he finished, it was evening.

He had heard that dusk is the “Hour of Demons,” the time when ghosts and monsters begin their mischief.

Tan Xueci took his lunch box and found a corner to eat alone. After this, he had to film that scene…

He took a deep breath, but the food tasted like wax. As the sky turned a bruised purple-black, the warm yellow lights of the set cast his small shadow on the ground, making him look profoundly lonely.

Halfway through, he couldn’t eat anymore. He looked down at his shadow and tugged at a tuft of his hair that was sticking up. Those few strands of dark hair wobbled back and forth, looking like the curved horns of a little lamb.

He tried to smooth it down several times to no avail. A wave of inexplicable grievance washed over him, and his eyes began to sting. He let out a soft sniffle, only to feel a large hand suddenly press down on the top of his head.

The person’s fingers were ice-cold, seemingly brushing against the tip of his ear by accident.

Tan Xueci looked up and saw the pale, handsome face of the man. His eyes widened, reflecting the set lights like tiny stars. “Mr. He?!” he whispered in surprise.

The slight curve of He Xunye’s lips lowered slightly.

Tan Xueci looked around. There were several staff members just 10 meters away, but no one noticed there was an extra person. Only he could see He Xunye.

He remembered feeling sleepy and resting his head on the table for a bit. Did I fall asleep? Am I dreaming of He Xunye again?

Regardless, seeing He Xunye made him genuinely happy. He wanted to grab the man’s hand but didn’t quite dare.

Seeing the boy staring at him expectantly, He Xunye reached out his hand, and Tan Xueci took it cautiously.

Brother Lu was right, Tan Xueci thought. Mr. He really does protect me. He always appears when I’m sad or scared.

He Xunye’s hand was chillingly cold, not warm at all, but for some reason, Tan Xueci’s eyes grew even wetter. He tried to hold it back, but when he blinked, a single tear fell.

“Why are you crying?” He Xunye’s dark, brooding eyes lowered as he reached out to touch the boy’s damp cheek.

Tan Xueci remained silent. He was naturally thin. During those few days at the He house, someone had brought him food, and his cheeks had finally filled out a little, but they had sunken again over the last few days. His thin face bore a faint, lingering sickliness, leaving only his lips vivid and full—a sight that incited a certain desire to bully him.

He had barely touched his dinner—just a few pieces of eggplant and a mouthful of rice.

He Xunye asked, “Xiao Xue, don’t you like this?”

“No, Husband,” Tan Xueci said. Still holding He Xunye’s left hand, he used his other hand to wipe his tears. It was the first time anyone had asked if he liked what he was eating. His voice softened as he shook his head obediently. “I like it. I’m just not very hungry.”

He called him “Husband” again.

He Xunye reached out to touch the boy’s flat stomach. Startled by the sudden movement, Tan Xueci’s stomach let out a loud gurgle. With reddened ears, he clutched his stomach to prevent further touching.

“You need to put on some weight,” He Xunye said, picking up the chopsticks and feeding a piece of sweet and sour pork to Tan Xueci. His tone was somewhat ambiguous.

His eyes were an unnaturally deep black, and the faint red at the inner corners looked strange, as if blood might well up at any moment, carrying a gloomy, ghostly aura.

Tan Xueci shivered. The meat was right at his lips, but he was afraid to eat it. He felt He Xunye’s tone was odd—as if he were a little piglet being raised to be fat enough to be slaughtered and eaten.

“What is it?” He Xunye leaned down, asking with gentle concern.

He Xunye’s skin was whiter than cold jade, and his dark, indifferent “peach blossom” eyes were intensely pressuring. He didn’t look like an easy person to approach, but now those eyes were curved in a deliberate smile. Tan Xueci, having never experienced such a seductive scene, stared at him blankly, unable to make a sound.

I’m dreaming anyway. I should be more assertive.

What’s wrong with letting my husband feed me in a dream?!

He hesitantly opened his mouth.

He Xunye’s red lips curled. “Good boy.”

Tan Xueci felt dizzy from the praise and unknowingly finished the rest of his dinner. Full and sleepy, he curled up on the lounge chair, watching He Xunye’s gentle face beside him until he drifted off.

It was only when it was time for his scene that Lu Xi woke him up.

The lunch box had been cleared away by the crew. Tan Xueci couldn’t even remember if he had actually eaten dinner; he just knew he wasn’t hungry.

Dreaming is great. Not only do I have a husband, but I also get fed.

He didn’t have time to think more as he followed Lu Xi. He didn’t notice that not far behind him, the man was watching his thin silhouette in the night and following him at a steady pace.

“Xiao Tan,” the director said upon seeing him, “go through the scene with Teacher Xu first.”

Tan Xueci’s heart sank as he walked over with his head down.

“I’m not trying to force you,” Xu Zongdu said, acting like a guiding elder as he saw Tan Xueci’s reluctance. “You’re young. You don’t realize how much I can do for you—even He Sui can’t compare. I heard you’ve broken up with him, so why not consider starting a new relationship?”

“I really hope you can become mine,” Xu Zongdu said, staring at Tan Xueci’s trembling lashes and vivid lips with a touch of obsession. “And I will be yours.”

Nobody wants you.

Tan Xueci pursed his lips and took a step away.

Before Xu Zongdu could speak again, the director called for them. Xu Zongdu gave Tan Xueci a warm, encouraging smile. “Let’s finish tonight’s shoot first.”

The scenes of Zhou Xia poisoning the food and the parlor owner eating had already been filmed. All that remained was the owner forcing himself on Zhou Xia, only to die mid-act from the poison.

Tan Xueci walked over and stood in position, feeling numb. The director called “Action,” and he could only watch as Xu Zongdu approached him.

I’m so useless.

I can’t even protect myself.

Sometimes Tan Xueci felt sad—why didn’t anyone like him? Maybe he should just stay in the hospital and never come out. But then he’d think it was no wonder no one liked him; he was so useless that even he didn’t like himself.

His breathing hitched, unsure of what would happen next. Suddenly, Xu Zongdu’s forward motion came to an abrupt halt.

Xu Zongdu’s pupils dilated as he froze in place, not even looking at Tan Xueci anymore.

A pale, slender hand with bloody fingernails reached toward him. Without hesitation, the fingers plunged into his eye socket. The sound of the hand grinding against the bone was sickeningly audible. The entire hand shoved inside, emerging from the back of his head before vanishing. Only a black, hollow socket remained, leaking blood. He coughed up large chunks of scarlet internal organs but couldn’t move a muscle.

He looked behind Tan Xueci with eyes full of terror. In reality, he couldn’t even see Tan Xueci; from his perspective, the boy was tightly entwined in a mass of black mist.

He could only vaguely see a tall man embracing Tan Xueci from behind. The figure was blurred and ethereal. The man’s red lips opened, and his voice was as cold as a ghost’s, sounding like a thick fog rolling in. “He isn’t yours. He is mine.”

Tan Xueci didn’t even look at Xu Zongdu. As soon as he stood in place, he felt a pair of large hands wrap around his waist.

The hard, cold fingers rested on his stomach—slightly bloated from dinner—and gave it an affectionate rub.

Tan Xueci was startled, but the person’s attitude was so intimate and natural that he felt dazed, as if he should be touched like this.

His body felt as if it were soaked in heavy, wet ice, and he trembled with cold. Yet, his ears began to burn red, his lashes grew damp, and his legs went weak. He couldn’t help but bite his lip.

The paper with He Sui’s name in his pocket turned to ash under the spirit’s touch.

In a place Tan Xueci couldn’t see, the evil spirit intimately embraced him from behind, burying his face in the boy’s snowy-white neck and taking a deep breath, even though he no longer needed to breathe.

He didn’t understand how someone could be so “good” yet so “bad”—calling him husband yesterday, yet writing someone else’s name today.

But since he was this bad, it was okay to bully him a little.

The rest of the crew only saw Tan Xueci standing there, pale and stiff, while Xu Zongdu suddenly coughed up blood. His body swayed, and his face turned a ghastly blue-white—the “acting” of his death was exceptionally realistic.

The actors and staff watching all nodded in admiration.

As expected of an award-winning veteran.

What a great death!

Only the director was slightly confused. According to the script, there was supposed to be a staged kiss first, then the death. Of course, since Xu Zongdu took over, things might change, and Tan Xueci just had to go along with it.

Why did he just die immediately?

He thought Xu Zongdu had changed his mind again. It wasn’t until the man wobbled and fell to the ground that the director quickly shouted, “Cut!”

The scene was over. The black mist dissipated, and Xu Zongdu climbed up from the ground.

“Teacher Xu,” the director said with a fawning smile as he walked over. But Xu Zongdu ignored him and walked straight off the set.

The director was stunned, wondering why Xu Zongdu was suddenly in a bad mood. But since Xu Zongdu was known for his eccentric temper, he didn’t dare disturb him.

Zhai Fang glared at Tan Xueci, assuming he had offended Xu Zongdu, and quickly chased after the man.

Xu Zongdu kept his head down as he dragged his heavy legs to the parking lot and got into the back seat. Zhai Fang opened the car door and called out in a sweet voice, “President Xu,” reaching out to touch his shoulder.

But before he could speak, his face went completely blank.

The moment his hand touched him, Xu Zongdu’s head fell off his neck and rolled down to rest at Zhai Fang’s feet.