Chapter 12 – Officially Best Friends Now

The two walked along the elegant path of the hotel. Wei An happily considered the various details of his new persona. He really wanted to find a few more people to put on a performance for, but unfortunately, there was no one around.

No matter. With Gui Ling there, he began telling the other man about the other specialty drinks at the Flâneur Hotel, listing them off with great familiarity—like the four different ways to make a particular kiwi beverage.

There were also a few excellent dishes here; they could come back to try them next time.

Gui Ling stared at the floor, looking as though he just wanted to retreat into his own empty world and not hear a word Wei An said.

When Wei An started talking about the meanings behind the various items in his home—what best expressed his crafted persona and emotional inclinations—he suddenly paused, took a step back, and examined a carved pillar.

It seemed to have grown from deep beneath the floor, only about the length of a palm, its tip slightly curled. At a glance, it looked like a patch of black grime or mold, carrying an ominous vitality.

Wei An stared at it for a while, thinking it resembled some kind of unfamiliar organism. It seemed either dead or in a state of dormancy.

After a few seconds, he turned his head and spotted another one not far away.

Wei An walked over to inspect it. This one was by the wall of a corridor, similarly appearing to have sprouted from below. It was longer, over a meter, like a stiffened dead insect—deeply unsettling.

“What is this?” Wei An asked.

His “best friend” slowly turned to look but didn’t answer right away.

They stood side by side, but without touching each other. Aside from the haircut earlier, Wei An had made no further attempts to touch him. Once, when he’d tried to straighten out a folded collar for him, Gui Ling had likely been distracted and hadn’t noticed the movement. The man had unconsciously swatted his hand away, his body tensing as if offended.

He had obediently let Wei An cut his hair, but deep down, he disliked being touched.

After a moment, Gui Ling said, “Looks like ‘Rapid-spawn Hell.'”

Wei An froze, a chill running down his spine.

He knew the term “Rapid-spawn Hell.” It also had an ancient name: “Hellflower.” It was believed to have been used by the ancient civilization during mass killings. The term had been coined by the Ministry of Science—too fitting, too unsettling.

This thing happened instantaneously. A pitch-black, flower-like force would rise from the darkness, enveloping an area before its petals closed in.

Rapid-spawn Hell would dissipate like mist in an extremely short time, but all life within—including microorganisms—would vanish. Only the buildings remained, seemingly untouched. Only with the most precise instruments could one see the dense, tooth-mark-like scratches and finger-like gouges covering the surfaces, as if a small-scale hell had unfolded within.

This phenomenon occasionally appeared in ancient records. Some ruins also bore its traces—enormous, dark, flower-like imprints sprawling across the ground, the largest covering an entire town.

After a long moment, Wei An couldn’t help but ask, “Isn’t Rapid-spawn Hell always instantaneous?”

“Mn,” Gui Ling replied, studying the black line. “This one won’t grow. It’s an infinitely weakened, useless version.”

Wei An kept staring at the thing, an extremely bad feeling creeping over him. He nodded.

“This was artificially placed here,” he murmured.

Wei An continued forward. He could have turned back, avoided this path entirely.

He could have skipped the dessert shop, activated the autopilot to summon the car, grabbed an umbrella from the hotel, and left the area as quickly as possible.

But he kept walking.

Along the way, Wei An spotted more traces of Hellflower petals in various places, like ghosts emerging from hell itself onto the surface of reality, waiting to witness something terrifying.

Wei An unconsciously rubbed his fingers together, suddenly craving a cigarette—just like he had many times before when dealing with troublesome cases. But then he remembered he’d quit long ago.

“Is this what you used to kill people during the Yingtian celebration?” he asked.

“Mn,” Gui Ling curtly replied.

“I thought you wouldn’t answer,” Wei An said, flashing him a smile. “You’ve got that ancient civilization’s technical confidentiality agreement in you, right? According to the Ministry of Science, it’s like an ancient curse flowing in your blood, stopping you from answering anything related to ancient tech.”

“What you asked falls within the agreement.”

“I was joking. You should’ve said something like, ‘Since we’re such good friends.'”

Gui Ling ignored him, clearly eager to end the conversation.

Aside from those eerie, unopened petals, the lighting along the way was beautiful, making the dangerous elements seem like mere classical decorations.

This was one of the Flâneur Hotel’s signature features—they used “artistic natural lighting.”

“People often think natural things are beautiful, but that’s not true,” Wei An murmured. “Natural things often feel depressing because they’re too real. But this kind of imitation natural light…”

His gaze swept across the space.

“Under this light, even mass graves would be bathed in a warm glow. Corpses and sunlight blur together, becoming ‘natural’ and elegant,” he said. “Civilization is about artifice—crafting things to achieve an aesthetically pleasing effect.”

Wei An’s tone was soft as he spoke, his knowledge extensive.

Since meeting Gui Ling, he had rarely brought up the man’s time at the Ministry of Science. He knew some of what had happened there, but none of it was remotely civilized.

Creatures like him always ended up in situations like that. The Ministry of Science had tested him relentlessly—whether he could survive extreme conditions, whether fatal injuries and toxins had any effect on him. From what Wei An knew, they’d gone too far a few times, nearly killing him.

For many years at the Ministry of Science, Gui Ling had eaten nothing. They hadn’t given him food—likely testing whether he’d starve at first, then deciding he was just a weapon, not to be humanized, to be locked away like an object in a vault.

The fluorescent lights there stayed on day and night. The space was bare, empty. He’d been alone, sitting in a corner, head bowed, or curled up on the bed—for years upon years.

Wei An shook off the memory of those records. Thinking about it was uncomfortable; better to ignore it.

The two continued forward. The deeper parts of the hotel weren’t as deserted—some guests were even holding gatherings, completely uninterested in the weather outside or the Prayer Assembly.

A few people had noticed the “petals” and called the hotel to ask if it was a sanitation issue. Their tones weren’t tense. In the clean, civilized, warm atmosphere of the hotel, nothing seemed too frightening—there were always procedures to solve problems.

Wei An chatted with Gui Ling in a light, sociable tone.

“How do you like those shoes? I thought they’d look good on you when I bought them,” he said. “Do they fit well?”

Gui Ling ignored him.

“Answer me.”

“Can you stop forcing conversation?”

“We should talk often. It makes walking together feel warmer,” Wei An said. “We’re best friends now. You can tell me anything you want.”

Gui Ling fell silent. Wei An wondered if he still wanted to say, “We’re not friends,” but since that—and anything close to it—was forbidden, he had no choice but to stay quiet.

Then Gui Ling spoke.

“If,” the man said, “once you’ve had your fill of playing around… could you use the contract to lock me away? You can put me anywhere.”

Wei An froze.

His steps slowed slightly as he turned to look at Gui Ling.

The other man had also stopped, staring back at him. His eyes were like a stretch of water long dead—no longer flowing, just silently rotting.

Wei An had once threatened him with something similar. If he locked him away somewhere, he’d be trapped there forever, no one able to find him. The mere thought was an endless nightmare.

His voice carried monotonously, “I can help you upgrade the contract—beyond what the Ministry of Science has.”

He was dressed impeccably, his tone flat and lifeless.

“When you… want it to end, just lock the contract. Put me wherever you like. I don’t care.”

Wei An felt a chill crawl down his spine.

“Are you insane? Do you know what that means?”

“I’ll cooperate with you. Whatever you want.”

Wei An had witnessed many horrifying things, but this still made him feel cold. He thought, Just how far has this creature fallen into despair?

Looking at that face, he suspected this was someone whose spirit had shattered long ago, another ruin among this world’s countless catastrophes. He didn’t know what to say.

“Hmm…Sure. As long as you behave.”

He reached out and ruffled Gui Ling’s hair. He’d always envied how close buddies could sling an arm over each other’s shoulders—he just couldn’t do it naturally, no matter what.

He hadn’t touched Gui Ling much either. Touching a monster like this was practically suicidal. But now, it felt possible.

Gui Ling stared at him expressionlessly, his gaze still terrifying—but he didn’t pull away. It seemed he’d cooperate.

“So, how are the shoes?”

Five seconds of silence. Finally, the other man acknowledged, “Fine.”

They stopped talking and continued walking as if on a leisurely stroll.

This area was lined with old-fashioned colonnades and lush greenery, the flowers blooming in rich, tastefully arranged colors, giving off a classical oil-painting texture. Occasionally, the eerie lines of Rapid-spawn Hell could be glimpsed.

Both of them looked handsome and civilized—nothing to suggest they harbored anything truly dark. The lighting here was so perfect that even if your bones were filled with shards of ice, or clogged with blood, body parts, and all kinds of rot, you’d still appear flawless.

Wei An thought, Now it’s official—Gui Ling is going to be my best friend from now on.