Chapter 36: The Incense and the Corrupted’s Weakness

‘Incense?’

A myriad of associations with ‘incense’ immediately sprung to Black Mirror’s mind, the answer catching her slightly off guard, even as Ji Lanxin’s explanation continued: “That day, before we ate, I saw Liu Tianze put some powder into a small burner I’d never seen before. During dinner, the burner was placed not far from us. When I asked him what it was for, he merely said it was to burn some incense to create a pleasant aroma, hoping it would lift our spirits. Since his family had never had such a habit before, I remember it very clearly.”

Black Mirror remained silent regarding Ji Lanxin’s explanation, while Rainbow, in turn, posed several related questions based on her description, inquiring about the burner’s appearance, the incense powder’s color and scent, and the experience after using the incense. Ji Lanxin dutifully answered each one.

Black Mirror considered herself unskilled at detecting lies, yet Ji Lanxin’s statements and demeanor presented no obvious contradictions in her estimation. The answer of ‘incense’ itself had already exceeded Black Mirror’s initial expectations; young people nowadays rarely had the opportunity to encounter or understand the culture and craft surrounding incense. Attempting to construct elaborate deceptions around such a topic would more likely lead to confusion and reveal glaring inconsistencies in the lie.

However, if the culprit behind these few impressionable young people becoming Corrupted was truly some incense of unknown composition, then the questions only multiplied.

Ji Lanxin described the scent and experience thus: “The aroma wasn’t strong, carrying a faint smokiness, a subtle sweetness amidst a bitter undertone. It made one feel warm and fuzzy, limbs growing somewhat numb, yet consciousness became sharper and clearer, as if effortlessly slipping into that calm state one achieves during an exam.”

Wen Qiusheng’s impression, by contrast, was far more concise: “It didn’t have much of a smell, nor was it particularly fragrant. At most, it reminded me a bit of fruit wood roasted duck.”

As for where Liu Tianze had obtained the incense, both were completely oblivious. If the anomaly had indeed occurred on the day of their gathering, then nothing else from that day had left a strong impression on them, given that the three had only been together during that specific period.

Incense. Black Mirror recalled a period when her mother had been deeply engrossed in incense culture. Back then, their home would daily be filled with a myriad of fragrances. Incense came in many forms; her mother initially seemed to burn the most common stick incense, or perhaps joss sticks, and gradually, various other shapes appeared: incense boards, cone incense, incense powder, incense pellets… Though she herself held little interest in these items, her mother had, at times, drawn her into conversations, imparting some knowledge about them.

‘A fruity wood aroma, with a smoky undertone…’ This suggested that the raw materials likely included some kind of wood or resinous spice.

Beside her, Rainbow and Ji Lanxin had temporarily bypassed the process of verifying the truth of this answer, moving on to the next topic: “Speaking of which, since both of you inhaled that incense, it’s not just Xiao Qiu; you, too, should have become capable of using some of the Corrupted’s power, right? If it’s convenient, could you demonstrate it for us?”

“I can… but I’ll need his cooperation.” With these words, Ji Lanxin glanced at Wen Qiusheng beside her. Understanding, Wen Qiusheng nodded and extended his gelatinous hand towards Ji Lanxin.

“Whoosh—” The young woman took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and placed her palm over his. The moment their limbs connected, a colossal, blood-red eye suddenly manifested behind both Ji Lanxin and Wen Qiusheng simultaneously. It was larger than any globe found in a classroom during school days. These two immense eyes cast their gaze silently upon the backs of the pair, and concurrently, the magical energy emanating from the Corrupted became clear and intense.

Mere seconds later, the colossal eyes behind them vanished one after another. Ji Lanxin opened her eyes, and the aura of her kind radiating from her grew increasingly potent. It appeared she had indeed utilized the Corrupted’s power during their brief contact, most strikingly evident in the crimson mark that had surfaced on her forehead, looking as though it might drip blood, its shape precisely mirroring the giant eye that had just appeared.

“It was only in the past few days since arriving in this city that I’ve gradually understood what’s happening to me. In short, I can probably do this—” Ji Lanxin explained, extending her index finger. As everyone’s attention fixed on it, the finger underwent a transformation that was both familiar and unexpected.

It melted, like an ice cube exposed to sunlight. The flesh encased by skin gradually exuded tiny, transparent beads of water, which then expanded, encompassing the entire finger until it dissolved into a trickling stream flowing down her arm.

“Through direct physical contact, I can establish a link with a Corrupted, and in turn, acquire a part of its… well, ‘special ability?’ Once that link is established, I can also do this…”

The blood-red colossal eyes reappeared behind Ji Lanxin and Wen Qiusheng. As Ji Lanxin raised her arm, Wen Qiusheng simultaneously mirrored her movement.

‘This is…’ Black Mirror observed Wen Qiusheng’s expression. He seemed somewhat surprised by his own sudden actions, but nothing more.

Ji Lanxin then swiftly performed several other disjointed movements, and Wen Qiusheng, with uncanny precision, replicated every single detail of her actions simultaneously, like a marionette controlled by strings.

During this process, further changes occurred in Ji Lanxin’s body: several pitch-black chains, composed of magical energy, materialized on her wrists, ankles, and neck. Extensive patterns of black and crimson spread across her exposed skin, and the mark on her forehead continued to deepen, imbuing her with an unnerving sense of abnormality.

Her current eerie, gradually dehumanizing appearance could easily be captured and used as a monster in a horror game, perhaps even surpassing expectations.

“I, *cough, cough*, *ahem*…” Her voice, now unusually hoarse, startled even herself. After tentatively clearing her throat, Ji Lanxin continued, “I can… *cough, cough*, that is… *ahem, cough, cough, cough*…” Following a series of coughs like metal scraping glass, she seemed to find her own voice unbearable and opted for silence.

She dragged her arm and thumped her chest twice. Everyone present heard the distinct clatter of chains being dragged, and Wen Qiusheng let out a muffled groan. His arm, which Ji Lanxin had controlled, twisted a few times with extreme stiffness towards his own body, eventually managing to perform a movement different from Ji Lanxin’s.

This action, it seemed, served as a trigger. Ji Lanxin’s magical energy reaction immediately diminished considerably, the chains binding her body vanished, her complexion gradually returned to a healthy glow, and she finally reverted to her normal appearance.

“I can influence a target’s actions by establishing a link through physical contact, but if they resist with all their might, I get a headache. If I can’t endure it, the connection is forcibly severed.” Ji Lanxin added this clarification about her ability, rubbing her forehead.

The flow and changes of magical energy were far more direct and honest than any verbal description. Black Mirror could clearly perceive that Wen Qiusheng’s seemingly simple resistance had actually inflicted far more severe “damage” on Ji Lanxin than her displayed discomfort suggested. This demonstration also exposed her weakness as a Corrupted; at this level, a single direct hit from that magical girl with the two gun-type magic armaments would likely force her out of the fight.

“She’s practically a princess who needs a knight to protect her,” Rainbow remarked, tilting her head as she addressed the two young people before them, who had one foot already in the realm of the extraordinary.

For now, that certainly seemed to be the case. Black Mirror silently agreed with Rainbow’s assessment. Ji Lanxin’s demonstrated ability was far more complex than Wen Qiusheng’s. If Wen Qiusheng were likened to a character in a game with simple, easy-to-understand mechanics unlocked from the start, then Ji Lanxin resembled a high-difficulty, late-game character requiring hidden challenges to unlock. Some game developers might even write an entire essay just to describe one of her skills.

However… greater complexity did not necessarily equate to greater power. Wen Qiusheng’s ability, simply put, allowed him to liquefy his body to varying degrees. He could transform a part of himself into a purely liquid state for unconventional movement, or turn almost his entire body into a gelatinous form, manipulating localized density to create tentacles with a metallic texture at their tips, as he had demonstrated earlier. It was precisely because the essence of this ability was so straightforward that Wen Qiusheng had been able to adapt and master it more swiftly.

In contrast, Ji Lanxin’s ability, as currently observed, had stringent activation conditions and severe limitations. It also demanded a user with more formidable comprehensive qualities. While it seemingly possessed a high ceiling at first glance, what it currently displayed was an extremely low floor.

“Looking at your expression, Xiao Jing, it seems her ability isn’t quite to your liking.”

“Stop using such misleading phrasing. I have no interest in them, in any aspect.” Her thoughts pierced by Rainbow’s remark, Black Mirror deliberately averted Rainbow’s playful gaze. The inability to operate solo was, in her view, a fatal flaw.

…Of course, these inferences were only valid if Ji Lanxin wasn’t concealing anything else.

However, it was only after Rainbow interrupted her train of thought that Black Mirror remembered something far more crucial. Unwittingly, she had fallen into habitual thinking. When fighting magical girls, she would instinctively analyze the opponent’s strength, advantages, and weaknesses. In this world, she had to tread on thin ice to survive; she could not accept defeat, nor could she bear its cost. Over time, she had unconsciously begun to weigh the value of what lay before her based on power and threat level.

This wasn’t necessarily wrong, but it was clearly inappropriate for the current situation. Before her stood only two ordinary people who had strayed from their path. They could neither pose a threat to her nor offer any assistance. They were human, and only human; they had no need, nor were they permitted, to step into the world of the Corrupted.

Thus, she deliberately allowed a hint of scorn and coldness to show: “Just as I thought, two people are completely useless. Given the current situation, you might as well just huddle here obediently.”

Wen Qiusheng bit his lip, appearing as if he wanted to retort, but was ultimately stopped by Ji Lanxin. Her reaction, after being so easily dismissed, was rather composed. She understood that their positions were not equal, and thus refrained from making any further requests, merely striving to maintain the current conversation, which was teetering closest to balance.

“We separated shortly after arriving here. What we know is limited to this. If you have anything else to ask, I’m afraid we can’t provide any more information.”

“Mm-hmm, excellent. I do like obedient and valuable good children like these,” Rainbow praised, clapping her hands. Then, she leaned in close to Black Mirror in a seemingly intimate pose, whispering into her ear, yet using a volume perfectly audible to everyone present: “But there’s no need to keep good children who have no value, is there? What do you say, Xiao Jing, shall we *eat* them?”

Black Mirror offered no reply. She merely gathered her thoughts, organizing the scattered words drifting through her mind, eventually forming several questions directed at Wen Qiusheng and Ji Lanxin.

“If you suspected from the very beginning that Liu Tianze was responsible for turning you into these neither-human-nor-ghost monsters, why did you still come with him to Jingping City?”

“Because, because…” Ji Lanxin’s reply suddenly became halting. “When we were in Jihai City, I only felt something strange about my body. It wasn’t until we arrived here that I fully realized what had happened to me.”

A truth, but only half a truth. No matter, the questioning continued.

“Why did you separate?”

“Didn’t I already tell you? We had a fight. We punched each other a few times. That’s all there was to it.” This time, Wen Qiusheng answered first.

A truth, a truth that only recorded the final outcome.

“The Liu Tianze you speak of not only became a monster himself but also dragged you down with him, then brought you to this unfamiliar place only to abandon you and disappear. Ultimately, your relationship amounts to nothing more than that. ‘Reliable friends you can depend on?’ Don’t make me laugh.”

Allowing no room for anyone to interject, Black Mirror continued to mercilessly negate everything.

“Someone who can casually overdraft others’ futures without taking any responsibility—I hardly think such a person deserves to be called a friend.”

They wanted to refute, to deny, to prove with actions, to argue with words. Their eyes told her as much. Yet they did nothing. They could find no excuse to compel their bodies to act, for this was “fact.”

In the past few days since arriving in Jingping City, they must have accumulated a great deal of unease: a strange city, the mutation of their bodies, and uncertainty about the future… Faced with these insurmountable challenges, they could only choose to bury their heads like ostriches, constructing a fragile mud wall of denial against reality.

They still harbored many unspoken words, but there was no need to forcibly unearth them. Those words were not meant for her or Rainbow, but for their former companion.

“Alright then, just one last question remains.”

“If we find him, do you have any message you’d like us to deliver?”

Innumerable struggles forged a brief silence. If things continued this way, some truths would be forever submerged in a tangle of emotions, never to see the light of day again. So, Black Mirror slowly rose, adding more fuel to the fire: “It seems there’s nothing more you wish to say. Let’s end it here then.”

And then, she heard the answer.

“I want to tell him that we’re very worried about him. Even though we’ve caused him a lot of trouble along the way, I also hope he can rely on us more sometimes, instead of silently enduring everything alone.”

“If you really do see him… tell him that those punches were my fault. I owe him.”

A scrutinizing gaze swept over Wen Qiusheng and Ji Lanxin. After confirming that these were their true sentiments, she relinquished any intention of further probing.

“Hopeless fools.”

Uttering a brief, sarcastic remark, Black Mirror turned her back on them and left the fantastical prison that held these idealists captive.

****

After waiting a few minutes outside, she saw Rainbow push open the door and approach, Ji Lanxin’s phone still clutched in her hand.

“You seem to be in a good mood, Xiao Jing.” She casually tucked the phone into Black Mirror’s hand, turning back to reveal half of her lightly smiling face: “I just checked her phone. She did indeed call and voice-chat with that young man multiple times over the past few days, but none were answered successfully. However, the girl mentioned she still has a few photos of the boy saved; they might come in handy.”

Flipping open the phone’s photo album, Black Mirror scrolled through the pictures with little hope, simultaneously asking Rainbow about her intentions: “What do you plan to do with them?”

Rainbow maintained her smile, taking a few light steps before tossing the question back unchanged.

“How do you wish me to handle them, Xiao Jing?”

“…Do as you please.”

Despite lacking any specific reason, Black Mirror felt that Rainbow would not harm the two. Many inferences could be drawn indirectly, but ultimately, it was merely her intuition—a blind intuition, much like theirs.

The photos flashed by, one after another. Just as she had anticipated, a mere face offered no additional information, unless these snapshots of ordinary life could somehow point her towards a path revealing secrets.

She was merely an ordinary person with common knowledge, not some famous detective with exceptional insight; how could such a coincidence occur? Yet, as her gaze followed the swipe of her finger to the next photo, Black Mirror’s breath suddenly hitched.

It was a perfectly ordinary family photo, likely taken when Ji Lanxin visited Liu Tianze’s home. It appeared to be a family of four: a couple and two brothers, roughly ten years apart in age. There were several similar photos, each person smiling at the camera, Ji Lanxin’s lens immortalizing a complete family in that moment.

“…”

Fuzzy memories were fraught with uncertainty, fragmented knowledge piecing together incomplete formulas that played out in her mind. Black Mirror didn’t trust her own memories, most of which were lost to oblivion, but she did trust the powerful sense of incongruity that had surged within her from the very first moment.

For someone of her generation, who as students were not particularly adaptable in their thinking but excelled at problem-solving, and were now often sarcastically dubbed ‘Small-Town Test-Takers’ (TL Note: A Chinese slang term, ‘xiǎozhèn zuòtíjiā,’ referring to someone who excels academically, especially in standardized tests, but may lack practical skills or adaptability in real-world situations.), sometimes, simply remembering a conclusion was indeed enough.

“Rainbow.”

Black Mirror called out to Rainbow. After a brief search using Ji Lanxin’s phone, the answer had already formed in her eyes.

“I think I’ve found a clue about him.”

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