Extra: A Commemoration of Misfortune

When Jin Yusheng called to say he wanted to meet up at a restaurant, Qi Si casually opened his phone calendar to check the date.

January 1, 2035. The lunar calendar marked it as the twenty-second day of the eleventh month. Good for offerings, prayers, and breaking ground; bad for travel, encoffining, and burial. Light snow at night.

As expected, it would be a terrible day. On a day like this, it was better to stay home under the covers and sleep it away, ideally waiting in silence for the date to turn into January 2.

Qi Si recalled that he had been cooped up in less than eighty square meters of living space for a month and a half already, much like some creature that hibernated at the first hint of cold...

Then again, staying at home forever might not be a good choice either. Most of life was like this: no matter whether you turned left or right, the result looked awful at a glance.

He asked flatly what Jin Yusheng wanted. The other man replied in an exaggerated tone, "Your own birthday, and you don’t remember?"

Qi Si remembered. In truth, he had never felt that a birthday held any special meaning, but since everyone else treated it with such solemnity, the person concerned could hardly remain too indifferent.

So he gave a perfunctory word of thanks, as if repaying those所谓 friends for the damned concern they lavished on him.

Then he said tactfully, "I think, given your profession, you’d be better off checking the almanac more often."

Jin Yusheng dismissed it. "Qi Si, since when do you believe in that stuff? I don’t even believe it myself. It’s just for fooling suckers!"

"And besides, after all the trouble you’ve finally settled down this past year, and your career’s taken off, with your exhibition opening next month... don’t you think it’s worth commemorating?"

Fine. A reason to "commemorate" was enough to tip the scales toward going out.

In the end, Qi Si still left the house.

Both elevators in the corridor had maliciously stopped on the seventeenth floor. He waited a full two minutes, and not one of them moved even a single level.

The warning from the almanac was already showing signs of coming true, but Qi Si had always been the sort of person who carried out a decision to the end once it was made.

He decisively pushed open the door to the emergency stairwell and descended step by step.

The high-rise stairwell, long unused, was not clean.

Stubborn stains, impossible to wipe away, climbed the walls; suspicious strands of long, tangled hair writhed in the corners like seaweed.

Yellowed floor tiles beaded with tiny droplets like insect eggs, and the cracked glass of the fire cabinet reflected the vague silhouette of a passerby.

Wrapped in a black-and-white down coat, the bulky figure looked every bit like a ridiculous twenty-two-year-old penguin.

By the time he had gone from the eleventh floor to the first, Qi Si was out of breath, exhaling white mist that dissolved into the winter air.

Darkness fell quickly. It was only afternoon, yet the sun was already gone. Against a pale gray backdrop, towers of silver-gray buildings stood as if on the verge of collapse, assembling into ranks of iron tombstones.

Qi Si walked slowly along the sparsely populated road and saw a moving company van parked at the intersection, vaguely guessing the reason for the stalled elevators.

He sincerely wished that family endless days of waiting for the elevator in their new home.

After passing through the old streets to the station, Qi Si waited ten minutes for a bus that never came and had no choice but to hail a taxi on his phone.

Once he got into the cab and checked the navigation, he discovered that the bus he had been waiting for was still back at the previous intersection.

The almanac was accurate. Today truly was not fit for travel. Watching one red light after another on the road, Qi Si thought as much.

Fortunately, he finally arrived at the appointed place on time.

The newly opened restaurant was called Fragrant Hall, built beside the water.

Its antique, multi-storied, boat-shaped structure floated against the lake, and brilliant light spilled through the window lattices beneath the gathering dusk.

The clamor of voices and the jostling crowd made Qi Si dizzy. Blending into the flow of people, he crossed the street and wound his way into the restaurant, where a server led him to the private room Jin Yusheng had booked.

It seemed misfortune had ended there, and everything afterward went smoothly.

Dishes were brought out one after another: mandarin fish in squirrel style, swimming crab, Longjing shrimp, and many others Qi Si could not name.

Qi Si was pleased. Jin Yusheng kept babbling beside him, and he let the words go in one ear and out the other, answering absentmindedly while piling food onto his own plate.

Jin Yusheng said, "I’ve got too much work on my hands lately. It’s impossible to keep up. When you’re free, just say you’re my junior and come help me out at the events."

"Mm."

Jin Yusheng said, "There’s a girl I’m interested in, but I don’t think I made a very good first impression. Come on, Mr. Universal Air Conditioner, give me some advice."

"Mm."

Jin Yusheng said, "I boarded a pirate ship. I have to run events every three days, and I could die any time... If I ever disappear one day, don’t be surprised. Remember to burn paper money for me."

"Mm."

Jin Yusheng said, "Why do you keep saying 'mm'?"

Qi Si swallowed the shrimp in his mouth, looked up at Jin Yusheng, and said seriously, "I’m humoring you."

"You damn—!"

...

To Qi Si, friends were long-term assets for use. Once a stable connection had been established, each side took what it needed, trading a favor that meant little to him for the other person’s unconditional help. In most cases, it was a win-win arrangement.

Sitting on the return bus, Qi Si idly typed a line into his phone’s memo app: "Jin Yusheng may have become involved in some unknown trouble. Risk level: relatively high. Cycle: three days..."

The object of his six-year investment might be in trouble at any moment. That was certainly not good news, and perhaps it counted as part of his bad luck.

The little television on the bus was broadcasting the news.

"Last year’s proportion of sudden deaths has reached a new high. Experts remind everyone: a healthy routine and regular life are crucial!"

"Recently, the Public Security Bureau has conducted multiple crackdowns on the cult known as the Scale, destroying several of its strongholds."

"With the climate changing abruptly, heavy snowfall may soon arrive in many regions..."

Qi Si felt an inexplicable irritation, and at the same time a faint premonition of something wrong. It seemed that a greater misfortune was hiding beneath the calm, waiting to arrive.

As a pessimist, in an instant he leaped from accident to death, then remembered that all his direct relatives were already gone, so there was no need to worry about anyone turning the inheritance into a public brawl. His mood improved somewhat.

He sat by the window and watched the night outside gradually laid on, starting from a pale violet and being painted into a dense black.

Vehicles of all sizes and colors moved like snails, casting harsh white or yellow lights.

In the distance, the smoke and fire of the shops rose in warmth, while the blurred red lights and wine-dark glamour smeared together in a haze, like watercolor pigment mixed on rough paper, as if a cup of wine had been overturned.

Behind him, two middle-aged women were chattering away, criticizing a young man who refused to give up his seat.

Qi Si’s head began to ache again. He paid no heed and continued gazing out at the disorderly scene beyond the glass. His vision drifted in and out of focus, as though he were looking at a discarded negative developed incorrectly.

When the bus stopped at a platform again, he got off and wandered aimlessly through the dimly lit alleys.

It was very cold, yet he felt as though he had been soaked in a false warmth, completely drained, seized by the urge to lie down right there.

Qi Si used the last of his reason to tell himself that he was nearly home and should hold on a little longer.

He dragged his feet onward, one step, then another, as if his soul were hauling his body toward some final destination.

The noise faded gradually into the distance. Heaven and earth stretched vast and desolate. At a corner, Qi Si encountered a black dog.

The dog barked furiously, as though it had seen something unclean.

Qi Si fell to the ground in response.

In that instant, heaviness and lightness coexisted, nearly tearing his senses apart.

He discovered that he was floating upward, while below lay his own lifeless body.

All discomfort vanished. Misfortune was fully confirmed at last, like a great stone finally dropping into place, or the Sword of Damocles falling without inflicting a fatal wound.

Qi Si looked around and saw dense, dimly shifting ghostly figures all about him. Then he suddenly realized that modern cities, just like six years ago, were still packed with ghosts.

He abruptly thought the whole thing had become rather interesting. Even more interesting was that he was now one of them.

"Depersonalization disorder, or some other illness?"

"If I can come back to life, I should go to the hospital and get checked..."

Qi Si made up his mind and felt genuine delight.

Even the thought of his body lying on the filthy, icy ground, perhaps bruised and battered, did not diminish that joy in the slightest.

He smiled soundlessly and lifted his face slightly.

A snowflake happened to fall onto his head.