Chapter 22: The Weight of the Unspoken

Romantic love stories, grand war epics, absurdly hilarious comedies, and claustrophobic darkness teeming with ghouls and grotesque creatures – the screen before you stands ready to deliver any narrative you desire.

Whether you wish to see the world revolve around a few dashing men and beautiful women, witness ordinary individuals struggle and persevere through society’s trials, or delve into a subjective history through the memories of others, this visual medium can bring it all to vivid life.

Here, the myriad facets of life, both exaggerated and authentic, converge, offering emotional value tailored to every inclination.

Though their creation often demands immense financial investment and countless hours, for the most part, they lie arrayed before you with the humility of freshly graduated students in a job market, waiting to be chosen.

Your selection alone imbues them with their ultimate worth.

Compared to the arduous efforts poured into their creation, you need only leisurely engage your senses, step into the stories they weave, and simply revel in the experience.

“Crunch, crunch, crunch…”

‘Yes, simply reveling in the experience…’

“Your son is calling you~ Your son is calling you~♪… Hello? Uh, uh, boss, what is it? I’m a bit busy right now, uh, I’ll call you back in a bit…”

‘Reveling…’

“Oh, come on, how can you not see it? That woman is definitely the killer! Let me break it down for you. In that first scene, she…”

…

Right, right. If only one could filter out the bewildering racket made by children clutching popcorn buckets, the office workers who neglected to silence their phones, and the couples dissecting the plot without a care for those around them, then this moment truly ought to have been enjoyable.

Watching as several children suddenly rose, obstructing the screen, Zhang Qingwei briefly closed his eyes, waiting in the darkness for them to be led, wobbling, by their parents toward the restrooms.

‘Ah, cinema etiquette is utterly meaningless here,’ Zhang Qingwei grumbled inwardly, reaching for a jasmine milk tea nearby and quietly taking two sips.

He hoped the sweet coolness flowing through the straw would mask the inexpressible bitterness in his throat.

This was a cinema, and on the colossal screen before him, the theatrical adaptation of a popular manga from the neighboring country was playing.

As the plot steadily advanced towards its climax, the characters once again found themselves in dire peril.

At this crucial moment, the male protagonist stepped forward, resolving the crisis with a classic action sequence that defied all laws of physics and boasted increasingly exaggerated visual effects in recent years, all set against an ever-more stirring BGM.

With the incident resolved, he safely returned to his previously tranquil everyday life.

‘It feels like coming every year just to see this one scene,’ he mused, ‘but it certainly is cool.’

Zhang Qingwei was, by all accounts, someone who enjoyed films.

However, rather than spending money to watch blockbusters in a cinema, he preferred to relax at home with headphones, seeking out older movies.

While watching films in a theater undoubtedly offered a more immersive atmosphere, it held no essential appeal for him.

Moreover, his luck at the cinema was consistently poor; each visit brought an unavoidable disruption that prevented him from enjoying the film in peace.

Once, on a rare whim, he had gone alone to see a movie about a prisoner of war struggling and deceiving to survive wartime.

Mid-film, a woman in the audience suddenly burst into loud sobs, and a dispute erupted when staff attempted to escort her out, causing his viewing experience to plummet.

So, why was such a man present here on a beautiful Saturday evening?

The lights flickered on, and the credits began to roll across the screen, officially marking the film’s conclusion.

Yet, Zhang Qingwei did not rise to leave like the others; instead, he turned his head to the seat beside him.

“Wait a bit longer; there should be an Easter egg after the credits.”

The one speaking beside him was Qin Ye, a young man with a baby face, long eyelashes, and a rather short stature, whose voice was somewhat neutral.

Had it not been for the fact that he was the same age as Zhang Qingwei, he could easily have been mistaken for a high school student whose growth was a little delayed.

He wore a shirt emblazoned with an evil cosmic overlord capable of three transformations, who had recently even attained a golden form.

His yellow and blue capri pants featured a lightning-wielding electric mouse, while beneath his seat lay a messenger bag shaped like a cat mascot that would push a cart to return you to camp if you failed in a dragon fight.

Dressed in such an ensemble, he invariably drew numerous stares on the street.

“Alright.”

Zhang Qingwei nodded, then waited with Qin Ye for the end credits song to finish.

“This one wasn’t bad at all.”

“Indeed. It’s as if they crammed every element fans wanted into it. While some parts felt a bit like a prank, at least it knew exactly what we wanted to see. Oh, and it sparked a few new shipping pairings too.”

“I heard from a friend that the shipping debates over this one were pretty fierce on social media, with both sides arguing non-stop.”

“Ah, I saw some of that too. But judging solely by this movie, shouldn’t it be a complete landslide victory for one side?”

“But they said they kissed, twice even, despite there being no subjective romantic intent.”

“I actually felt that final kiss seemed more like a defeated dog’s gesture. Lines like, ‘I’ve returned your lips… to her, you know,’ don’t you think that’s a total loss?”

The two casually chatted about the film’s plot until the credits completely finished, and the screen began to play a preview for the next theatrical release.

‘Well, I suppose they’ll just keep churning out another ship next year. They’ve clearly mastered the art of making money.’

“Could you hold this for me for a sec? I need to use the restroom.”

“Sure, I’ll wait for you outside.”

“Okay, thanks a bunch.”

Clutching Qin Ye’s cat messenger bag and a half-finished fruit tea, Zhang Qingwei was the first to exit the cinema, leaning against a wall with a yawn.

The fellow who had invited him to the movie today was Qin Ye, one of his few, and indeed his closest, friends.

They had been classmates from middle school through high school, initially bonding over video games, which sparked their friendship.

Academics, gaming, sports—engage in just one of these three, and you could forge friendships in school.

Such was the simple nature of male camaraderie.

After waiting for about five minutes, Zhang Qingwei watched Qin Ye emerge from the restroom, speaking on his phone.

Qin Ye casually affirmed something before taking the bag and drink from Zhang Qingwei’s hand.

“What’s up? Don’t tell me the community wants you back on duty again?”

Hanging up, Qin Ye shook his head and slipped his phone back into his pocket.

“No, no, something else.”

“Urgent?”

“Minor, nothing to worry about.”

“So, shall we grab dinner?”

“Let’s go.”

“What do you want to eat?”

“Anything.”

“…Alright, let’s just walk around first.”

When two individuals with such casual dining preferences converged, one inevitably had to take the lead.

After wandering with Qin Ye through the commercial center, which wasn’t far from either of their homes, Zhang Qingwei finally pointed to a dumpling restaurant he remembered as being quite popular.

“This one?”

“Works for me.”

Stepping inside, the restaurant wasn’t particularly crowded as it was nearing nine in the evening.

They found a secluded spot, sat down, and simultaneously pulled out their phones to scan the QR code on the table.

“I’ll get this one.”

“You paid for the movie, so let me get this.”

“Oh, it’s fine. Just pick what you want to eat.”

“You choose, and you can treat next time. This one’s on me.”

After a brief back-and-forth, Zhang Qingwei ultimately won the right to pay for the dumplings.

They consulted each other, ordering three plates of dumplings and two side dishes.

The food arrived quickly, and without delay, they picked up their chopsticks, eating and chatting as they went.

New game releases, manga plot updates, esports scores, workplace grievances… they seemed to discuss a myriad of topics, yet without any particular focus.

Perhaps that was the essence of talking with friends: unrestrained and free-flowing.

For Zhang Qingwei, conversations like these with Qin Ye, or simply going out for a movie and a meal, comprised the bulk of his social life.

While he used to frequently play games online with other friends, as they grew older, many had begun to settle down and start families.

The carefree days of playing together, reminiscent of their school years, were now few and far between.

Even the content on his social media feeds and online spaces had gradually transformed into the ubiquitous hallmarks of adult life.

Late-night overtime struggles, travel snapshots, baby pictures, advertisements… a seemingly ‘full’ life unfolded on Zhang Qingwei’s phone screen like a monotonous exhibition, failing to spark even a flicker of interest within him.

The nine o’clock chime sounded promptly in his ear.

Zhang Qingwei picked up the vinegar bottle and refilled his dipping dish.

“By the way, I thought there were a few afternoon showings today? Why did you insist on a late-night one?”

Hearing this, Qin Ye picked up a fresh shrimp dumpling from the plate, dipped it in the sesame oil in his bowl, and lowered his head to eat.

“Ah, I had some other things to take care of this morning and afternoon. Couldn’t really get away.”

“What kind of ‘things’ are you not telling me? So mysterious…”

Considering that Qin Ye’s ‘serious business’ usually fell into a few predictable categories, Zhang Qingwei pondered for a moment before blurting out a guess.

“Auntie set you up on another blind date?”

“Pfft! Cough… cough, cough…”

Seeing Qin Ye nearly spit out his dumpling, Zhang Qingwei quickly grabbed the tissue box from the table and offered it to him.

“Such a big reaction? Here.”

Taking the box, pulling out a tissue, and wiping his mouth, Qin Ye placed the tissue box back in the center of the table.

“Could you wish me a bit of good fortune? I’ve finally had some peace and quiet recently, and I certainly don’t want to hear about her arranging another one for me out of nowhere.”

Qin Ye always had strong reservations about the topic of blind dates.

In Zhang Qingwei’s opinion, Qin Ye’s personal conditions were actually quite acceptable.

While he was indeed a bit short, roughly matching the average height of women in the country, and his appearance and voice were somewhat feminine, making it difficult for him to provide women with a sense of ‘security,’ his fashion sense was hard to evaluate, and his current job, though stable, didn’t offer a particularly high salary…

‘Hmm,’ he mused. ‘But perhaps there’s a niche market for this guy.

Maybe some girl would actually prefer this type, someone who might even stir a protective instinct.

Besides, he was always good at his studies in school, and his personality is generally fine.

He doesn’t smoke, doesn’t drink, and has no bad habits.

All in all, he’s a pretty decent fellow…’

‘Never mind,’ he thought, ‘why am I even pondering this? It’s not like *we’re* going on a blind date.’

Glancing at Qin Ye’s attire, which looked more suited for collecting stamps at a comic convention, Zhang Qingwei remarked casually.

“True. If you went to a blind date dressed like that, you’d probably ‘speedrun’ it in no time, and might even end up posted on Xiaohongshu (TL Note: A popular Chinese social media platform known for lifestyle content and trends).”

“But, but the Great King is really cool!”

As Qin Ye spoke, he tugged at the white alien printed on his shirt, looking as though he wanted to defend its honor.

“I can’t deny that.”

Watching Qin Ye, Zhang Qingwei felt that it was perfectly fine for him to continue as he was.

While everyone else around them was growing, settling down, marrying, having children, and meticulously planning their lives, it made the two of them seem somewhat out of place, unable to integrate into that atmosphere.

Yet, chatting with Qin Ye made him feel as if he had returned to his school days, as if life had undergone no changes at all.

However, Zhang Qingwei was also keenly aware that, ultimately, this sentiment was merely his own wishful thinking.

The world was in constant flux, changing every single second; nothing remained absolutely immutable.

Though they found great joy in each other’s company, everyone eventually went their separate ways.

Most people carried this sense of loneliness as they transitioned into adulthood.

Qin Ye might claim to dislike blind dates, but a sense of responsibility would still compel him to accept his family’s arrangements, thus stepping into the next phase of life before Zhang Qingwei.

And as for himself…

‘He himself had already grown accustomed to operating as a Corroder.’

****

Around nine in the morning, Zhang Qingwei awoke to his alarm.

He was alone at home; Jin Shiling’s absence on weekend mornings had become commonplace, and he no longer found it unusual.

Thus, seizing this unscheduled morning, Zhang Qingwei transformed into the Corroder Black Mirror and made his way to the vicinity of the Department of Demonic Supervision.

The Jingping City Department of Demonic Supervision was situated near the city center, an entity repurposed from a skyscraper and an industrial park.

The approximately thirty-story skyscraper served as its headquarters, while the adjacent industrial park was segmented into areas for research, living, and training, also housing a contingent of the city’s defense forces.

During weekdays, the Department of Demonic Supervision denied access to external visitors.

Its regular entrances and exits were located on opposite sides of the auxiliary area.

Non-affiliated personnel, even those with proper permits, had to undergo multiple layers of review and be escorted by staff to gain entry.

It was, in essence, a facility with exceptionally thorough routine security measures.

However, these ground-level security measures posed virtually no threat to Magical Girls, who could effortlessly fly through the air.

Of course, this also served as one of the effective ways for Magical Girls to verify their identities, a method most of them employed.

Blatantly exposing her form to a surveillance camera, Black Mirror stood on the rooftop of a nearby high-rise building, meticulously planning how to infiltrate the skyscraper before her.

The surveillance cameras scattered everywhere were utterly useless against her.

The real challenge lay with the Magical Girls patrolling the area and those within the training grounds.

Without detailed facility blueprints and precise patrol routes for the personnel, the chances of evading them were slim.

Furthermore, she lacked an internal structural map of the skyscraper, making it impossible to gather more effective intelligence from external observation alone.

Once she decided to infiltrate, there would be no room for error, and she could not afford such unpredictable risks.

The current situation felt like a hardcore stealth game requiring a one-life clear; with her present resources and intelligence, she couldn’t formulate a plan that would allow her to act with confidence.

After half a day of reconnaissance, Black Mirror ultimately concluded that external infiltration of the Department of Demonic Supervision would be exceedingly difficult.

This outcome was hardly surprising; she hadn’t held much hope before coming.

Nonetheless, she wanted to personally scout the location, hoping to entirely extinguish any lingering hope within her and compel herself to seek other methods.

“It’s almost July, and it’s getting hotter,” Black Mirror complained softly about the midday heat, retreating from the rooftop into the building’s shadow.

Facing a surveillance camera almost directly in her face, she felt not the slightest concern about being discovered.

As an Epidemic-level Corroder, Black Mirror, much like Rainbow, possessed special abilities highly suited for infiltration.

Rainbow could use her incredibly convincing disguise ability to assume the appearance of others, gaining trust and entering various venues.

One of Black Mirror’s abilities, however, was the bane of all electronic surveillance equipment.

No surveillance could ever record traces of her presence.

Not just cameras, but ordinary cameras, phone screens, mirrors, and even water surfaces were incapable of registering her existence.

Against these non-direct observation methods, she could transform into a so-called “invisible person.”

She could only be directly observed by the naked eye—this was one of Black Mirror’s unique powers.

The Department of Demonic Supervision’s archives were located deep within that skyscraper.

It was like Pandora’s Box, simultaneously the truth Zhang Qingwei yearned for and a source of potential calamity that, once opened, could never be undone.

At least, if he truly uncovered the truth and learned who was responsible for his mother’s death, he likely wouldn’t be able to sit here so calmly, eating dumplings with his friend, as he was now.

How much longer could such moments last?

“Speaking of which…”

Zhang Qingwei’s thoughts snapped back as Qin Ye’s voice cut through them.

“What is it?”

“How’s your sister doing lately?”

‘Sister?’

“Ah, Zhang Lan, you mean? Wasn’t her baby’s first month last month? I went to visit; she seemed fine, no issues. Everyone says the baby looks like his dad, but to me, all newborns look the same.”

Zhang Qingwei spoke of his cousin, who was two months younger than him.

Two years prior, his cousin had married her boyfriend of twelve years, and this year, she had given birth to a son, making Zhang Qingwei successfully an uncle.

“I saw the photos she posted on her Moments; they were quite nice—Oh, no, no, not Zhang Lan. I meant… the one you live with.”

“Oh, Jin Shiling, you mean? As for her… she should be fine, I suppose.

After all, she’s still just a high school student, her school is close to home, and she has a regular routine.

What problems could she possibly have?”

As he spoke of Jin Shiling, Zhang Qingwei’s tone unconsciously softened, revealing a lack of conviction.

He genuinely didn’t know much about Jin Shiling’s current life; he didn’t even know where she had gone that morning, and could only fabricate details about her life based on superficial observations.

The two of them, lacking any blood ties or familial affection, had always missed an opportunity to truly understand each other.

Zhang Qingwei knew Jin Shiling wasn’t particularly fond of him, and he himself didn’t harbor any substantial affection for her as a sister.

Yet, to outsiders, they had lived together for at least two years, and there should have been some emotional accumulation between them.

From the neighbors, Zhang Qingwei had learned that Jin Shiling was always a polite, academically excellent, and well-behaved child.

People expressed regret and sympathy for her background and experiences, and thus believed her positive and proactive demeanor stemmed from her strong and resilient spirit.

However, when Zhang Qingwei first met Jin Shiling, she was merely a somewhat mischievous, average student, a lively girl who occasionally gave her father headaches—a stark contrast to the image she now presented.

Humans are complex, multidimensional beings, exhibiting different facets of themselves when facing different types of people.

This isn’t hypocrisy, but it isn’t entirely genuine either.

“Sounds like you two aren’t getting along very well?”

Zhang Qingwei glanced at Qin Ye.

This was the downside of being too familiar with someone; some things couldn’t simply be brushed aside.

“Not very well, no. Why, why are you suddenly concerned about her? Just so you know, her middle school phone wallpaper was a Korean idol boy band, the kind that sings, dances, and raps.”

“No, what are you even talking about? Where did your mind go? I didn’t mean anything like that. I just saw someone wearing a Seventeen High uniform float past the entrance and remembered she goes there.”

Zhang Qingwei turned to look towards the restaurant entrance but saw no one wearing the Seventeen High uniform.

Wearing a school uniform outside on a weekend… he had always thought that was a ‘silly thing’ people only did back in his high school days.

“High school girls, female high school students—aren’t they the most complex, mysterious, and troublesome creatures in the world? Only a Mind Flayer could possibly know what goes on in their heads all day.”

“Pretty, excellent grades, mature and steady personality, with ideals, pursuits, and ambitions—she must be very popular with her teachers at school and surely has many friends.

What is there to worry about with someone like that?”

Even he could hear the self-deprecating tone in his own words; how could Qin Ye, sitting opposite him, not hear it?

“It seems she really gives you a headache.”

“A headache? Yes, indeed. Even now, I don’t know how to get along with her.

Ultimately, our relationship is strange.

We’re siblings in name, but in reality, our relationship is worse than strangers.

I can’t completely ignore the relationship between our parents and treat her merely as a guest living in the house.

But I also can’t treat her as a sister.

I don’t know what she thinks, but at least I can’t imagine what kind of relationship we should have.

No blood ties, no familial affection, whether it’s the downside of the single-child era or personal character flaws, in any case, it seems to me that the beginning of all this was fundamentally wrong.

No matter how I think about it, such a wrong start can only lead to a wrong outcome.”

Zhang Qingwei shoveled a few peanuts into his mouth, hoping the food would keep the next words from escaping his throat, but he ultimately failed.

Emotions long suppressed in his heart pried open his mouth.

“Ultimately, I wasn’t entirely indifferent to my mother’s decision to remarry either.”

Zhang Qingwei rarely uttered such subjectively emotional words, for they held no reference value, no necessity to be understood, and would bring him no genuine psychological release.

Presenting an unsolvable problem brought no benefit; acknowledging his weakness and failure brought nothing but a bitter taste to the vinegar-dipped peanuts in his bowl, making them hard to swallow.

Even so, facing his friend, Zhang Qingwei spoke these words.

He hadn’t expected to gain any understanding or advice; perhaps he merely needed a way to confirm his inner thoughts through communication with another person.

After hearing these words, Qin Ye’s expression remained unchanged, as if he were accustomed to such situations.

After confirming that Zhang Qingwei seemed disinclined to speak further for a while, he picked up the last dumpling from the plate and popped it directly into his mouth.

Zhang Qingwei was, in fact, someone whose personality could be quite troublesome at times, Qin Ye understood, and Zhang Qingwei himself was well aware of this.

The silence at this moment seemed awkward, but Qin Ye knew that choosing to offer comfort or express an opinion now would only be counterproductive.

This was precisely when Zhang Qingwei’s self-denial reached its peak; allowing him to calm down on his own was the best approach.

After a long while, when Zhang Qingwei picked up his spoon again and scooped two spoonfuls of peanuts, Qin Ye finally spoke.

“At least, I don’t think you dislike her.”

“…”

Zhang Qingwei pursed his lips, then picked up his phone and scanned the QR code on the table again.

“Doesn’t feel like enough. Want another plate?”

“Whatever works.”

“What filling?”

“Whatever works—uh, celery?”

Zhang Qingwei nodded, adding a plate of celery dumplings to their order.

He then picked up the kettle and refilled his nearly empty water glass, and after glancing at Qin Ye’s full glass, he set the kettle aside.

After gulping down half a glass of water, Zhang Qingwei felt the lump in his throat finally subside with the flow.

“Whether I dislike her or not, whether I care or not, it’s not that important, and it won’t change anything.

I don’t want to deliberately choose anything, nor do I want to feel guilty or anxious for not finding an answer. It’s simply that.”

“Sounds a bit difficult.”

“It is, very difficult. That’s why I’d rather not think about these things, but even that is hard. It’s truly troublesome.”

The steaming hot dumplings were brought to the table by a smiling waiter.

The two simultaneously picked up their chopsticks, continuing to satisfy their still-wanting stomachs (TL Note: A humorous idiom referring to one’s appetite).

“Their food really does taste good.”

“To open so many branches, they must have some real skill.”

“You should try my mackerel dumplings; I think they’re quite good.”

“No thanks, I can’t accept such novelties.”

“What an old stubborn geezer…”

Having mostly cleared their plates, the two, now feeling full, looked at the last two dumplings in their bowls.

They exchanged a glance before each picking one up and placing it in their own bowl.

“By the way, shouldn’t we worry about her dinner? How does she usually manage it?”

“You’re asking now that we’re full? Isn’t that a bit late? She and I usually handle our own meals.

Our回家 (TL Note: Return home) times are different, so there’s nothing to worry about.

In this day and age, how could a high school student starve? In a sense, she has more financial freedom than I do; she can eat whatever she wants.”

“Well, I’ll be…”

Having finished their respective ‘clean plate’ actions, their dinner drew to a close.

The two didn’t linger in their seats, grabbing their phones and bags before leaving the restaurant.

Tonight, the moon and stars were sparse, a golden, full moon hanging in the sky.

The streets were quiet, nearing eleven o’clock.

Zhang Qingwei followed Qin Ye to retrieve his stored bicycle, and finally, they parted ways at the crossroads, concluding their social outing for the day.

“Okay, I’ll message you when I get home.”

“Alright, be safe. We’ll hang out again next time.”

Zhang Qingwei waved to Qin Ye and turned, striding in the direction of his home.

During the fifteen-minute walk, he had initially planned to listen to some songs to pass the time.

But looking up at the bright moon, he thought better of it and abandoned the idea of taking out his headphones.

The night was calm and peaceful, the brilliant moonlight gently caressing the earth.

Compared to the daytime hustle and bustle of the city, Zhang Qingwei preferred the city as it was now.

The sky before him was like a perfectly rendered painting, compelling him to keep his head tilted back, gazing at the round moon until a streak of anomalous light sliced through the night, like an intrusive splash of paint on a canvas.

‘A Magical Girl, then. Working so late, how exhausting.’

Zhang Qingwei watched the Magical Girl disappear from his sight, the light gradually dissolving into the darkness of the night.

His thoughts couldn’t help but drift back to his reconnaissance of the Department of Demonic Supervision earlier that day.

‘…If external infiltration is difficult, should I try from the inside?’

A somewhat dangerous thought quietly began to stir in the night.