Chapter 119: The Sinister Bloom

Luo Hanyai opened his mouth slightly, intending to ask the man in white more questions, but the man merely waved his hand. With a look of keen interest, he gestured toward the staircase, signaling Luo Hanyai to look in that direction.

In the dim hallway, a piercing beam of light descended from above, as if a spotlight on a stage were illuminating the protagonist standing at its center. A strange sound began to drift slowly through the air, seemingly heralding the protagonist’s arrival.

A flute? Who was playing the vertical bamboo flute?

In an instant, Luo Hanyai’s heart skipped a beat. He scanned his surroundings, desperately seeking the source of the sound, yet the others at the dining table merely smiled, savoring the melodious and sorrowful tune with evident fascination. The flute music in the mist did not make their skin crawl; instead, they seemed to find it enjoyable. It was impossible to tell what kind of monsters these people truly were.

A few seconds later, the flute was joined by another sound—the voice of a young woman, singing in a trilling, melodic fashion.

Only then did Luo Hanyai realize where the sound was coming from. He cast his gaze toward a corner of the room that seemed perpetually devoid of light. An old cabinet, severely corroded by long-term exposure to the damp, dark environment, sat there, and the sound was emanating from within.

Through the various cracks and holes in the cabinet, one could faintly discern an old-fashioned phonograph. A vinyl record rested upon it, with the needle tracing the grooves, causing the disc to rotate slowly.

The sound was coming from the phonograph!

Soon, the sounds of a vertical flute, a transverse flute, a mouth organ, and a zither joined in. The archaic, soulful, and mournfully twisting melody drifted elegantly throughout the Mist Inn.

"Midnight Song. What a magnificent rendition of 'Midnight Song'." The man in white seemed to be smiling, offering unstinting praise to the figure standing not far away.

"Midnight Song?" Luo Hanyai blinked, searching his memory for the term. *Midnight Song* was a piece from the Jin Dynasty. There was once a woman named Ziye who created this melody, which was filled with overwhelming sorrow. Later, it evolved into a unique form of regional opera in the south, though it had since largely been lost to time.

"Manluo, you are late," Macarius said, taking another sip of tea and calmly identifying the newcomer.

Luo Hanyai rubbed his eyes and peered intently at the figure, feeling as though his entire world had been overturned. He could not believe that the person standing at the foot of the stairs was Manluo. The figure was dressed in an embroidered woman’s pleated skirt, a cyan garment that made her look elegant and ethereal. She waved graceful water sleeves, and a pair of delicate embroidered shoes peeked out from beneath the hem. The attire fit her figure perfectly, highlighting the elegant, quintessentially Oriental curves of a woman. Her face was painted with heavy stage makeup, creating the image of a *huadan*—a female lead in Chinese opera—bearing no resemblance to Manluo’s square-jawed face. How could this be Manluo?

The *huadan* did not respond. She continued to sing the sorrowful opera lyrics in a haunting voice, her beautiful eyes overflowing with infinite grief, perfectly matching the mood of the *Midnight Song*—the mournful desolation of Ziye being forced to part from her beloved.

Luo Hanyai seemed dazed, completely immersed in the performer’s act. Though he could barely understand the lyrics, the beautiful melody and vocal technique caused him to involuntarily lose consciousness, sinking into the *Midnight Song*, unable to pull himself free.

At that moment, the music from the phonograph grew increasingly poignant, beautiful enough to break one’s heart.

As if under a spell, Luo Hanyai tremblingly picked up a table knife and slowly began to plunge it toward his own heart.

"Cough, cough, cough..." A series of violent coughs erupted abruptly, shattering the haunting atmosphere.

Luo Hanyai jolted as if struck by lightning. The table knife fell from his hand, and he broke into a cold sweat. Lingering in fear, he glanced at the *huadan*, who was still singing, and felt a surge of gratitude toward Xiaofeng for intervening.

"Why? Why did you interfere?" The resentful voice emerged from the *huadan*. She stopped abruptly, seemingly displeased by Xiaofeng’s sudden intervention.

"He owes me and my mother a life. I will not allow him to die here." Xiaofeng, who had been resting on Luo Hanyai’s shoulder, opened her eyes. Her voice was even weaker than before, audible only if one listened with the utmost care.

"How much longer can you live? You stopped belonging here a long time ago."

"My lifespan is the shortest, which is why I burn the most brilliantly."

"Why bother? Everything you have suffered is because of him."

"This is fate. I do not blame anyone."

Xiaofeng communicated coldly with Manluo, like a ghost sighing.

"You are simply courting death. To put it bluntly, none of you sitting here combined could stop me. Why make me so unhappy? It will only make you suffer more." Manluo’s voice turned shrill and piercing, assaulting everyone's eardrums.

"Cough, cough, cough..."

"I am already a dead person. How can you speak of me courting death?" Xiaofeng seemed to smile, utterly indifferent to Manluo's threats.

"Hahaha... hahaha..." Manluo scanned the room, laughing as if possessed. She laughed until tears streamed down her face, then pointed at Luo Hanyai, looking at him with pity. "Luo Hanyai, do you know how much you understand now?"

"You... what did you say?" A tumultuous storm raged in Luo Hanyai’s heart. He suspected his ears had deceived him, and a wave of dizziness washed over his mind. Why would a character in a game script know his real name? He could not help but think of the question again: "Is this really still a game?"

"I said Luo, Han, Yai." Manluo repeated it, her voice slow and steady, as if ensuring Luo Hanyai could hear and understand clearly.

Luo Hanyai felt his brain buzz. A surge of heat radiated from his heart, violently slamming into his mind, making it difficult to breathe. He slumped into his chair, his eyes blurred, as reality and illusion flickered and swapped before him in chaotic, maddening succession.

Manluo smiled. Even with her heavy stage makeup, she could not hide her sinister, bewitching nature, leaving one to wonder: "Is she a man or a woman?"

"Big brother, we actually all know who you are." Xiaofeng placed her cold, small hand on Luo Hanyai’s face and whispered, "In fact, you guessed it long ago, but you were simply unwilling to admit it."

"Are you all... truly me?" Luo Hanyai slowly closed his eyes and voiced the conjecture he had never dared to speak aloud.

"They all still are, but I am—and I am not." Manluo licked her lips, looking at Luo Hanyai with greed.

"You guessed correctly. Everyone here, whoever they may be, was originally you."

"This place was originally your heart, and we are merely your thoughts."