Death Knocks on Hell’s Door Chapter 11

Chapter 11 Holding Hands

As the plot progressed, the movie gradually approached its climax, leading into the final reveal.

All five tourists had met their tragic demise, each in a gruesome and horrifying manner. Just then, a thick fog rolled through the haunted house, and from within the swirling mist emerged two figures, one in black, the other in white. They wore tall hats and carried chains in their hands, their appearances unmistakably reminiscent of the classic depictions of the Black and White Impermanence.

Bored out of his mind, Xie Bian suddenly perked up, slipping out of Fan Wujiu’s arms and sitting upright with a serious expression.

Fan Wujiu inwardly lamented the missed opportunity to hold him a little longer, but his attention was quickly drawn back to the screen.

Neither of them had expected the film’s finale to introduce ghost envoys on top of the already terrifying female ghost. Could this be considered as eating melons that landed on your own head? [T/N: eating melons that landed on your own head (吃瓜吃到自己头上) — This means that the situation you were gossiping about or watching as an outsider suddenly involves you directly.]

Watching humans portray them was, in its own way, a novel experience.

As the mist in the film cleared, the figures of Heibai Wuchang were revealed to the audience. Bai Wuchang had a ghastly pale face, an eerie grin, and a tongue that stretched all the way to the floor. Hei Wuchang, on the other hand, had dark skin, a grim and serious expression, and was a full head shorter than his companion.

Xie Bian: “……”

Fan Wujiu: “….”

They flat-out refused to acknowledge that these impostors were supposed to be them.

In a low voice, Xie Bian murmured, “Why are you so short?” After all, in reality, Lao Hei was actually a bit taller than him.

Fan Wujiu murmured, “And you’re grinning way too creepily.” In reality, Lao Bai’s smile was warm and refreshing, like a spring breeze.

Xie Bian frowned. “I don’t always have my tongue hanging out that long either.” He cared about his image, okay?

Fan Wujiu sighed. “And my skin isn’t that dark.” Sure, he wasn’t as fair as Lao Bai, but he was definitely nowhere near that dark.

The two immortals exchanged a glance and snorted in unison. “Completely inaccurate. Terrible film.”

After all, mortals had never truly seen ghosts or deities, and those who had were already dead. Their appearances in the human world were entirely based on imagination. And when imagination ran wild, there was no limit to how ridiculous things could get.

Honestly, if mortals were going to make things up, couldn’t they at least make them look more attractive?

On screen, the Black and White Impermanence captured the five tourists’ souls along with the vengeful ghost formed from their lingering resentment. They escorted them all to the underworld, delivering them to the Yanluo Hall for judgment.

The moment King Yan appeared in the film, Xie Bian and Fan Wujiu both felt a strange sense of balance.

Because the movie’s version of King Yan was a burly middle-aged man with fierce, wide eyes and a thick, bushy beard.

Thinking of the real King Yan, the noble, elegant, and dignified ruler of the underworld, Xie Bian and Fan Wujiu: “……”

Your Majesty…… it seems you’ve got it worse than us. Even we couldn’t have imagined mortals would think of you like this.

On the big screen, the middle-aged King Yan was already reading out the sins committed by the deceased during their lifetime, pronouncing judgment upon them one by one.

An old and horrifying case was dragged into the light, laid bare before the Yanluo Hall.

It turned out that these five tourists had not been good people in life. They had all committed terrible sins. One of them, a man of power and influence, was not only impotent but also had perverse hobbies. He had assaulted a young girl, tortured her to death, and then paid four thugs to dispose of the body. The thugs, driven by greed, carried out his orders without remorse, destroying all evidence of the crime. Years passed, and the wealthy man rose even higher in status, enjoying fame and fortune, while the thugs lived comfortably off their blood money. No one remembered the innocent child who had died so cruelly.

No one, except for her mother, the vengeful ghost of the film.

As a single mother, her daughter had been her entire world. After the child’s death, she spiraled into madness, consumed by a single obsession: finding the ones responsible and making them pay with their lives. By some twist of fate, she uncovered the truth behind her daughter’s murder. But the evidence had long since disappeared, and she was powerless against those with wealth and status. She sought help everywhere, only to be met with closed doors. Despair swallowed her whole, and in the end, she took her own life. She became a vengeful ghost, lurking in the haunted house, waiting to exact her revenge on the five murderers.

When King Yan finished recounting their crimes, he sentenced their sinful souls to the depths of hell, where they would suffer eternal torment. The mother’s resentment dissolved, and she was granted a chance to reincarnate. In her next life, she would be reunited with her daughter. Hand in hand, their souls stepped into the cycle of rebirth.

At this point, the movie had reached a satisfying conclusion. It told a story of injustice in life, but judgment in death, warning people that even if they escaped the laws of the living, the underworld’s justice was inescapable. Karma would always find its way.

And yet, the film was not over.

As the mother and daughter disappeared into reincarnation, the screen suddenly shifted to a hospital. But it was not a maternity ward welcoming new life. It was a psychiatric institution.

A woman sat there, cradling a rag doll in her arms, whispering her daughter’s name over and over again, humming a lullaby.

After her daughter’s death, she had indeed lost her mind. But the strong-willed mother had not chosen suicide.

She had spent years planning her revenge, personally hunting down and killing all five of her daughter’s murderers. She had been sentenced to death for her crimes, only to be deemed insane and confined to a mental institution for the rest of her days.

The so-called haunted house and vengeful ghost seeking revenge were all figments of her imagination.

She had dreamed, day and night, of torturing those who had wronged her daughter. She had longed for their crimes to be exposed to the world. She wanted people to know that before they were victims, they had been monsters.

She had succeeded. Her revenge had unearthed the long-buried crime, and her daughter had finally received justice. But in exchange, she had become nothing more than a madwoman, clutching a rag doll, spending the rest of her days lost in grief and longing.

As the woman softly hummed a lullaby, the film reached its final scene. The theater lights came on, and the audience began to rise from their seats, still murmuring among themselves.

“That mother and daughter were so pitiful. Pedophiles deserve to die!”

“This ending is so depressing…… I’m going to spend the rest of my life recovering from these two hours.”

“The twist was predictable, though. Another ‘it was all in their head’ ending? I guessed it early on. Don’t domestic horror movies have any new tricks up their sleeve?”

“Even if they did, they wouldn’t pass censorship.”

“Am I the only one focused on how ugly Heibai Wuchang were? No wonder they’re the big bosses of the ghost realm.”

The real Heibai Wuchang, unjustly slandered: “……”

No, we are not ugly. Also, we’re not ghosts. We’re gods, thank you very much.

Opinions on the film were mixed, but its deeper message had sparked reflection in many. A scholarly-looking young man sighed, “Women are weak, but mothers are strong.”

Standing behind him, Xie Bian heard those words and murmured softly, “Women are not weak to begin with.”

Throughout history, among the souls they have guided who possess great merit and virtue, there had never been a shortage of women. Even in eras when society placed heavy restrictions on them, there were always those who stood shoulder to shoulder with men. And in modern times, with progress and reform, such women had only become more numerous.

A single movie was hardly enough to stir deep emotions in the Black and White Impermanence. They had led too many legendary souls into the afterlife and heard too many stories of heroism and tragedy. Whatever there was to lament, they had lamented long ago. But no matter how much time passed, they would always hold respect for those who shone brightly in life. They were never indifferent, never numb.

Black and White Impermanence, names that sounded like those of evil spirits, but in truth, they were benevolent gods.

By the time they stepped out of the cinema, it was already past five. The evening sky had dimmed, with thick clouds gathering overhead, carrying the promise of rain.

“Want to find a place to eat?” Fan Wujiu asked.

They did not experience physiological hunger, so the question was never “are you hungry?” but simply “do you feel like eating?”

Xie Bian shook his head. He wasn’t in the mood for a full meal.

Just then, they passed by a cake shop. Remembering that Lao Bai had mentioned wanting cake earlier that morning, Fan Wujiu asked, “How about some cake?”

This time, Xie Bian gave a reserved nod.

They stepped inside. The cool blast of air conditioning brought instant relief to the mortals entering the store, but to them, who had no body temperature, it made no difference.

Xie Bian picked out a small strawberry and cream cake and took a seat by the window, quietly beginning to eat. Fan Wujiu handled the payment, then sat across from him, watching him with a steady gaze.

Xie Bian asked, “You’re not eating?”

“No.” Fan Wujiu propped his chin up with both hands, watching him intently. “I’ll just watch you eat.”

Xie Bian didn’t press further and simply lowered his head, focusing on his cake.

His fingers were long and slender, graceful to look at. Holding a silver fork, he carefully picked up a piece of the cream cake and placed it between his soft, pale-red lips with effortless elegance. When a bit of cream accidentally smeared onto his lips, he quickly swept it away with the tip of his tongue. His gaze remained lowered, his eyebrows delicately arched like distant mountains. Under the dim golden glow of the shop’s lighting, his long lashes cast soft shadows against his skin.

Fan Wujiu couldn’t help but open his phone’s camera and secretly snap a photo. Even without any filters, the image was as breathtaking as a classical painting.

People always said that Venus and his son were so exquisite that they resembled porcelain dolls, like characters walking out of an oil painting. But Xie Bian was no different, an ethereal figure straight out of an Eastern ink painting, delicate and otherworldly. His own porcelain doll was just as stunning.

……Damn it. His mind had already been warped by King Yan’s way of thinking, which was always comparing East and West, no matter the subject.

His gaze lingered on Xie Bian’s lips, redder than the strawberries on his plate.

A sudden, fleeting desire to kiss him arose.

Just then, the rain outside began to pour, a sharp, rhythmic pattering against the windowpane. It mixed with the distant honking of car horns, forming a chaotic yet oddly harmonious symphony. Pedestrians on the street hurriedly ducked under eaves and storefronts, seeking shelter from the downpour. The sky darkened as neon lights flickered to life, casting a glow over the wet pavement.

The rain jolted Fan Wujiu from his thoughts. He quickly reined in the stray desire that had crept into his mind.

He thought back to the night before last, when Xie Bian had come to his room to help him transcribe a book. They had sat side by side, their legs touching, their arms brushing against each other, working together until dawn while listening to the rain all through the night.

Back then, the sound of rain had carefully buried unspoken thoughts. Now, sitting face-to-face as lovers, their hearts were still filled with things they couldn’t put into words.

That golden arrow, whose effects could wear off at any time, left Fan Wujiu with a lingering sense of apprehension.

So he constantly reminded himself to stay clear-headed. He had never truly possessed him, so he wouldn’t have to fear the day he lost him.

King Yan had once said that Fan Wujiu was stubborn to a fault. People like him were also true gentlemen, someone who adhered rigidly to his principles. This time, however, he had taken advantage of an accident and accepted his role as Xie Bian’s temporary lover. That alone already made him feel shamefully deceitful.

He glanced at the photo on his phone. He knew full well that just one look would send his heart racing and his mind wandering in dangerous directions, yet he still couldn’t bring himself to delete it.

Besides, deleting it would be meaningless. If a picture could make his heart flutter, then seeing the real person certainly wouldn’t leave him unmoved.

……Might as well keep it.

Not only that, he was going to set it as his phone’s screensaver.

Fan Wujiu looked at his new screensaver, feeling thoroughly satisfied. He was truly using this golden arrow as an excuse to act bolder by the day.

He repented.

But he couldn’t change.

……

When they stepped out of the cake shop, the rain had yet to stop. Fortunately, there was a mall right next door that sold umbrellas.

Fan Wujiu bought only one.

A couple walking under two separate umbrellas, now that would be too distant.

No matter how large the umbrella was, it still felt cramped with two grown men standing beneath it. Fan Wujiu held it up with one hand, walking shoulder to shoulder with Xie Bian along the misty, rain-drenched street. His other hand hovered uncertainly, his fingertips curling inward, brushing against Xie Bian’s every so often as he hesitated. Should he reach out and take his hand?

He wanted to. He just didn’t have the nerve.

They were nearly at the end of the street, and he was still deliberating.

Then, all of a sudden, he felt a cool touch against his fingertips.

Fan Wujiu turned slightly, his breath hitching.

The young man in white had no expression on his face, the arc of his lips slightly narrowed, as if something he had been expecting for a long time hadn’t happened. Disgusted by his dawdling, he simply took the initiative.

Xie Bian took his hand.

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