Forgotten Photo Studio

Chapter 38 The Knocking Sound (Seeking Monthly Tickets)
“He’s not that kind of person… How could he… How could he…” she choked, almost incoherently, the last few words, “getting you into this horrifying situation,” were as light as a sigh, carrying immense disappointment and the pain of disbelief.

The copper bell in her hand finally slumped slightly as if it had lost its strength, and almost slipped from her sweaty fingers.

Her gaze lingered between Xu Yan's pained face and that strange arm, before finally settling back on her own trembling hand.

It was as if she wanted to find a trace of what her grandfather considered to be the "right path" in this familiar bell, in order to fight against this subversive and cruel truth.

The truth was so heavy that she could almost feel it hanging over her head, yet she stubbornly refused to let it fall and shatter the image of her grandfather in her heart.

Ah Zhe cried out in despair, clutching his hair: "Then... what should we do? We just escaped from that hellhole, are we really going to wait for the center to come and settle scores with us?"

“Since there is no way to retreat, then there will be no more retreat.” Xu Yan stared at his strange right arm, feeling the stinging pain of the talismans and iron evil intertwined within. After a moment of silence, a resolute glint flashed in his eyes: “Even if this hand is a shackle, it is the only knife that can tear open the center.”

He raised his eyes, his gaze sweeping over the two panicked men: "We cannot sit idly by and wait to die. The central forces are too powerful; a head-on confrontation will only lead to our demise."

“We need to… find something to counterbalance ‘them’.”

The air in the photo studio was eerily still, with only the ticking of the clock hands echoing against the wall, as if keeping time for their heartbeats.

sleepless nights.

Xu Yan leaned against the filing cabinet, his eyes bloodshot, staring at the pale blue brand on his palm.

The burn mark remained silent, yet it was like an iron nail driven firmly into flesh and blood.

Deep within his right arm, the ghostly hand was still throbbing, occasionally sending a slight tingling sensation, reminding him that the thing was not truly still.

Chen Zhiwei didn't sleep a wink all night, keeping watch not far away.

She tossed and turned, clutching her grandfather's bell in her hand, her eyes bloodshot.

She still finds it hard to accept that her grandfather had imposed such a fate on Xu Yan.

She wanted to question him, but couldn't utter a single word.

He could only ring the bell again and again in the dark, as if that could drive something away for him.

The deathly silence in the photo studio was abruptly shattered by the sudden knocking sound.

Boom, boom, boom.

The voice wasn't loud, and was even somewhat restrained, but to the three of them it was like a thunderclap from a clear sky.

Having just experienced a terrifying ordeal underground, the three, exhausted and on edge, froze instantly.

Like a chicken being choked, A Zhe's mournful cries abruptly ceased. He shrank back, staring in terror at the doorway, barely daring to breathe.

Chen Zhiwei's handing over the water froze in mid-air; her fingers trembled, and a few drops of water spilled from the cup.

Her face paled, and she subconsciously moved closer to Xu Yan, gripping the copper bell tightly with her other hand.

Xu Yan's body, which was leaning against the filing cabinet, suddenly tensed up, and his slumped posture instantly transformed into one of alertness, ready to pounce.

The cold hatred that had just settled in his eyes was replaced by a sharp scrutiny, and the strange patterns under the skin of his right arm seemed to sense the external stimulus, sending a slight, unsettling tingling sensation through them.

Who is it? Someone from the center? They've come knocking on our door so quickly?

Are they here to silence us, or to "dismantle" us?
The atmosphere of despair was instantly replaced by intense suspicion.

The air seemed to freeze, leaving only the muffled thumping of a heart pounding wildly in the chest. Thump, thump, thump.

The knocking sounded again, maintaining that strange rhythm that was both polite and somewhat urgent.

Xu Yan and Chen Zhiwei exchanged a glance, both seeing the surprise and uncertainty in each other's eyes.

Ah Zhe silently mouthed, "Don't open it! Please don't open it!"

Xu Yan took a deep breath, suppressing the surging feeling of exhaustion in his chest and the discomfort in his right arm, and slowly stood up.

He gestured for Chen Zhiwei and A Zhe to be quiet, while he quietly moved to the door and peered out through the crack.

As dawn broke, the person standing outside the door was neither the uniformed, cold-faced central staff member one might have imagined, nor some kind of evil spirit.

He was a man who looked to be around forty years old. He was wearing a slightly wrinkled suit, and his hair was combed fairly neatly, but his face was haggard, his eyes were sunken, his lips were chapped, and his whole person exuded a kind of exhaustion from being tormented by anxiety.

He clasped his hands nervously, his eyes darting around as if afraid of being seen, or as if desperately trying to grasp at some straw.

An ordinary person? At least that's what they seem to be.

Xu Yan frowned, his vigilance undiminished.

How could an ordinary person find this remote and little-known photo studio at this time?
He hesitated for a moment, then finally opened the door a crack, his cold gaze falling on the other person: "What is it?"

The man outside the door was startled by Xu Yan's sudden appearance, especially when he met those unfathomable eyes that were filled with obvious wariness and a trace of lingering hostility. He subconsciously took a half step back.

But soon, a stronger sense of urgency overwhelmed his unease.

"Excuse me... is this 'Forgotten Photo Studio'?" The man's voice was hoarse, carrying a cautious probing and a desperate hope.

Xu Yan did not answer directly, but just looked at him coldly.

The man seemed to receive some kind of confirmation from his silence, and his emotions suddenly surged, his speech quickening:
“I… my surname is Zhou, Zhou Wenbin. I really have no other choice… I’ve looked everywhere, but no one believes me, no one can help me… Later, Grandma Xue, who runs an incense and paper money shop at the entrance of the alley, secretly told me that if I encounter ‘evil spirits’ and have no other options, I can try my luck here…”

His words were somewhat disjointed, but the information was clear: he had learned about it through informal, unofficial channels.

Xu Yan's gaze swept across the empty street behind him, and only after confirming that there were no signs of an ambush did he step aside slightly: "Come in and talk."

Zhou Wenbin felt as if he had been granted a pardon and quickly squeezed through the crack in the door.

Upon entering the photo studio, he was immediately struck by the oppressive atmosphere and the lingering fear and exhaustion on the three people.

Especially when he saw A Zhe slumped on the ground with a blank stare and Chen Zhiwei pale with tears in her eyes, he hesitated again, wondering if he had come to the wrong place.

But there is no turning back when the bow is drawn.

He rubbed his hands together, trying to organize his thoughts:

"I'm sorry to bother you... It's my home, something strange has happened at my home."

“It was my mother…” Zhou Wenbin’s voice was choked with sobs and fear. “She passed away half a month ago. We were all very sad. We held a funeral and burned paper money… But, but it started three days ago that something was wrong at home.”

“At night, I could always hear sighs, as if they were coming from the corner of the wall. The offerings that had been set out would be found to have been moved the next day, as if someone had touched them.”

The night was terribly cold, not just ordinary cold, but a bone-chilling, damp cold. My wife even said that she woke up in the middle of the night and saw a blurry, dark shadow standing by the curtains, the outline... the outline looked a lot like my mother.

(End of this chapter)