Chapter 11

Chapter 11: Midnight Basketball

The squishy thief was brimming with anticipation, rubbing his hands together. Lin Jianyuan, seething enough to blacken the air, hefted a desk chair and marched toward the crying wall.

Then he planted himself, legs splayed.

Thief: ?

Crying Wall: ?

“You think you’ve got it rough? Want to trade places?” Lin Jianyuan said, voice low and dark.

Crying Wall: Huh?

The crying wall hadn’t expected a human to say that. It was about to agree with pleasure when Lin Jianyuan barreled on:

“You be me and fix this fucking piece-of-shit proposal I’ve already revised a hundred and eighty times. You don’t go home till it’s done.”

“And don’t forget the dumbass upstairs who tells you to revise it but can’t say how—just, ‘the vibe’s off.’”

“Also, you’ve been at our company more than a day, right? I heard you crying a couple days ago. So by now you must be fluent in Word, Excel, Photoshop, Canva, and SPSS, yeah?”

“And since you’re a wall, not a person, no weekends for you—you can work 24/7. See how perfect this job is for you?”

Crying Wall: ?

The squishy thief blurted, “No, what are you doing? Don’t talk it into submission! Hit it! Beat him up the way you beat me!”

Lin Jianyuan ignored the squishy thief’s protests, black temper boiling off him, and went on at the crying wall: “And don’t think turning in the plan is the end of it. Get past the dumbass boss and there’s an even dumber client.”

“You never have a clue what the client the hell wants. Eleven at night they ring me nonstop to rush a revision; I pull an all-nighter till four a.m., send it—silence. Three days later they reply, ‘Let’s go back to version one.’”

“They’ve got a new kitten at home so I have to add cats last-minute; budget two thousand and they want me to hire Mo Yan; then some AI fortune-teller calculates that red is inauspicious this year, but I still have to convey a blazing, festive holiday mood without using red at any point…”

Outrageous enough to enrage gods and men—too many to catalogue!

Wall: “Stop! Just imagining it, I’m already suffocating!!!”

Lin Jianyuan didn’t answer; he just kept itemizing.

Crack! The wall split under the strain.

Meanwhile, on the second floor.

Jiang Chen hunkered in his office, jittery.

What the hell!

Why did Lin Jianyuan suddenly lose it again over nothing!

He was minding his overtime when that crazy bastard had suddenly roared, “Shut up!”

It freaked him out so bad he didn’t dare breathe and hurried to set his phone to silent.

I wasn’t even being that loud… Jiang Chen scratched his head, then saw Lin Jianyuan snatch up the desk chair in a fury and stalk over, murder in his eyes.

Jiang Chen thought he was coming upstairs, panicked, threw the office lock, and speed-dialed 110.

The call connected, but instead of coming up, Lin Jianyuan sat down at the stairwell and started talking to the wall.

Jiang Chen went speechless, with no idea what to tell the dispatcher.

Instead he got a stern lecture from the officer about making false reports.

Outside, Lin Jianyuan was still yammering at the wall.

Peeking down through the crack in the door, Jiang Chen realized, close to tears, that Lin Jianyuan was squarely blocking the stairs.

To leave, he’d have to get past Lin Jianyuan!

Great.

I’m not going home tonight, no way!

Half an hour later.

The bare wall split open with a jagged seam, exposing the miserable brickwork within.

"So you live by feeding on human sorrow?" Lin Jianyuan sat in his desk chair, rubbing his chin.

According to the Crying Wall, it releases sorrow-energy, and the humans it affects get kicked into an even deeper sadness.

It’s like nuclear fusion: the energy it harvests in the end outweighs what it puts out at the start. That’s how the Crying Wall lives.

"Yes..." the Crying Wall said, on its last legs. "Can you let me go now...?"

"I'm not holding you," Lin Jianyuan said. "You're the one who wouldn't run and stuck around eavesdropping till now."

"I can't run!" the Crying Wall protested. "My belly's split open! All the sorrow I ate during the day has leaked out! Now I've only got anger left! That's not what I feed on!"

Lin Jianyuan couldn't help looking impressed.

My imagination is wild. The worldbuilding is airtight.

No surprise—I'm a man who makes a living off ideas.

"At first I thought you couldn't hear it. Turns out this is just neglect play, huh?" squishy thief shot him a sidelong look with beady black eyes.

Lin Jianyuan was speechless. "Why would I be doing neglect play with a wall..."

Squishy toy said, "Then how'd you put up with it so long before doing anything? With patience like that, you don't even seem like you!"

"I'm mentally ill," Lin Jianyuan said, surprised. "Running into a few auditory hallucinations is normal, isn't it? I can't be expected to drag every hallucination out and beat it up."

Squishy toy pounded its chest and stamped its feet. "Then why do you only beat me! Why! Huh?! Why!!!"

Lin Jianyuan ignored it, turned to the Crying Wall, and said sternly, "You are not to make my colleagues cry again."

"Then what am I supposed to do?" the Crying Wall said, at a loss. "If I don't get enough to eat, I can't move. I don't want to stay here either—your company is so fucked up..."

Kindly as a saint, Lin Jianyuan benevolently pointed to the second floor.

Half an hour later, when Lin Jianyuan took the revised plan to Jiang Chen’s office, he found Jiang Chen with eyes brimming, standing by the floor-to-ceiling windows and gazing out at the twinkling city.

"Tell me, what is the meaning of life?" Jiang Chen asked, desolate.

A vein throbbed in Lin Jianyuan’s forehead. He rolled his wrists till they cracked and snarled, "Right now you're alive to review my plan. Review it. Now."

Jiang Chen, hearing that, didn’t dare wax sentimental anymore. He rushed over to look at the plan.

...

Finally, off work.

By the time Lin Jianyuan reached the subway, it was already the second-to-last train.

The line home runs aboveground for a stretch.

There were only a few passengers left. Lin sat on the hard seat, head buzzing, too spent to even look at his phone, and propped his head to watch the view outside.

The streetlights were a drowsy amber, each one lighting his face for a moment before rushing past.

A young couple horsed around in the carriage, then melted together to share a single pair of earbuds.

The train passed a sports ground; on the empty basketball court a few college kids were still shooting hoops.

Young men in jerseys, sweat flying—their flashing silhouettes vanished in an instant yet lingered on his retina.

He drew back his gaze and, exhausted, thought, It's already ten. Pei Shuo should be done by now.

Forget it—better not ask. If I ask, he'll probably drag me out for a late-night bite.

Pei Shuo’s a fresh graduate—how much money could he have? If he says he'll treat, he can't very well treat just me.

Late-night barbecue or crayfish costs a small fortune these days, and a pack of guys fresh off a workout is going to eat even more.

By rights, as the senior, Lin Jianyuan should be the one treating, but his pockets were painfully light.

He didn’t want Pei Shuo footing the bill, and he couldn’t exactly throw his arm wide and say, “Bring your buddies—my treat.”

The thought made him feel pathetic. Five, six years into the workforce, and as a senior he couldn’t even spring for barbecue for an intern.

He was stewing.

Ding.

A WeChat notification popped up.

Hao Menghai: “Bro, you there?”

Hao Menghai had been his classmate in middle school. They hadn’t spoken since graduation. On reflex, Lin Jianyuan typed back: “What’s up?”

Hao Menghai: “I’m getting married next week. Got time to come drink at the banquet? [grinning]”

Lin Jianyuan’s vision went dark for a second.

He quickly searched, “how much money do you give a not-so-close middle school classmate for their wedding?” Then he checked his balance. Only then did he sigh and reply to Hao Menghai: “Sure. Congrats!”

Drained, he made it home, pulled out his key, and pushed it into the lock.

The keyhole swallowed it without a hitch, smooth as ever.

“You’re back.”

He pushed the door open. The familiar pink digestive system was floating in midair.

Lin Jianyuan: “Mm.”

“Why so late today? Overtime’s tiring, huh?” The pink digestive system cocked its “head,” its “gaze” seeming to land on his empty hands. “No company perks today?”

Company perks? Oh—right, the frog.

No wonder his roommate came out to greet him in the middle of the night—he’d been waiting for a midnight snack.

Lin Jianyuan gave a self-mocking smile, too tired to say anything.

Just as he was about to head to his room, he noticed the floor was unusually clean.

There was a faint damp sheen on the tiles, polished to the point you could see your face.

Startled, he said, “Were you just mopping?”

The pink digestive system: “………………”

After a strange silence, the pink digestive system made an ambiguous sound. “Uh-huh.”

Its mucous membrane glistened wetly, looking oddly fresh.

They’d agreed to take turns mopping once a week; he hadn’t expected his roommate to do it ahead of schedule.

Apparently his roommate really liked things clean.

And was very diligent!

At that thought, Lin Jianyuan instantly forgave all the roommate’s slightly odd habits.

In a shared place, landing a guy who’s tidy and doesn’t make a fuss is like hitting the lottery.

And the roommate could even cook!

That wasn’t just a win; that was the jackpot.

Without thinking, Lin Jianyuan said, “Wanna play ball?”

The pink digestive system was about to go back to its room; at that, it turned. “Huh?”

Ten minutes later, at the neighborhood court.

It was the middle of the night; the court was deserted except for Lin Jianyuan and his roommate.

Cradling the ball, Lin Jianyuan dribbled a few times and passed it over. “Go easy on me. I haven’t exercised in ages.”

A length of intestine coiled around the ball.

The next second—thunk.

The ball slipped out of his roommate’s grasp.

Lin Jianyuan: “?”

Lin Jianyuan snorted a laugh.

His roommate said helplessly, “I don’t really exercise either…”

“All right, then it’s noob-on-noob. Come on!” Lin Jianyuan ran to fetch the ball, pivoted, and drove for a layup.

He had real hops; in college he’d almost made the team.

It had been five years since he’d played; even going up for a layup was a chore now.

Lin Jianyuan eased the ball up, feeding it into the hoop with the stretch and grace of a wild crane.

Clang. The ball rattled the rim and then dropped through the net.

Warm streetlight pooled on his face. Lin Jianyuan came down on both feet, grinning as he passed the ball to his roommate. “Here!”

His roommate caught it. This time he didn’t coil it up with his intestines; he swapped in a brown liver to dribble.

Lin Jianyuan stared, blank for a beat, then it clicked: intestines are too slick to grip a ball; a liver’s got more surface area—perfect for dribbling…

But that was only the world as seen by this mental patient. What was his roommate doing in the real one?

Clang!

While Lin Jianyuan zoned out, the ball had already gone in!

His vision filled with tender pink. Lin Jianyuan’s eyes flew wide as he realized the pink digestive system hadn’t even jumped.

—The digestive system, banking on his long intestines, had simply extended them and hammered the ball home!

—Holy shit—an intestine dunk!

Gruesome as it was, you had to admit—it was mesmerizing!

“Pfft—hahahahaha…” Lin Jianyuan couldn’t hold it anymore and doubled over, laughing.

“What’re you laughing at?” His roommate worked the ball left and right with his intestines. After all of thirty seconds with a basketball, his handle was already serious.

Lin Jianyuan: “How tall are you?”

If he could throw down that easy, he had to be pushing six‑three.

His roommate hugged the ball, as if thinking it over.

He chuckled. “Taller than you, anyway.”

“Don’t get cocky!” Lin Jianyuan laughed and went for the steal.

The thump of dribbling and their laughter echoed across the midnight court.

For guys, a game of basketball is enough to break the ice.

Lin Jianyuan was no exception.

After a while, Lin Jianyuan was drenched in sweat.

He tugged at his collar, catching his breath, and glanced around for a 24‑hour convenience store to grab a bottle of water.

By chance he glanced up and saw the sky was a dusky pink, with some kind of pattern—hazy, hard to make out.

“What are you looking at?” His roommate dribbled over, using his liver.

Pop. Pop. The ball smacked the ground with a crisp, springy snap.

“Beat. Want to grab some water?” Lin Jianyuan bent to pick up his jacket.

His roommate, however, had no jacket.

Lin Jianyuan couldn’t tell if his stamina was just that good—that he hadn’t broken a sweat—or if he’d simply left without one.

“Sure.” His roommate fell into step beside him, then suddenly stopped.

Lin Jianyuan turned to look at him.

“On second thought, forget it,” the roommate said. “You go on ahead.”

“You’re not coming?”

“Got something to take care of.” A length of intestine settled softly across Lin Jianyuan’s shoulder.

Lin Jianyuan glanced over and thought, this hallucination is way too real.

The intestine was so soft he could feel its clammy, slick chill even through his T‑shirt.

A shiver ran through him for no reason. He shrugged into his jacket and headed off.

The sky was dusky pink, and the asphalt had gone soft.

The feel underfoot grew stranger and stranger, as if he were stepping on intestines.

No.

He lifted his head and saw the dim pink pattern he hadn’t been able to make out was faintly writhing—like an endlessly unfurled stomach wall. Soft mucosa had replaced the sky, sealing him in.

He felt as if he were walking a giant beast’s intestines—long, with no end.

…Overtime really does drive you mad.

Calmly, Lin Jianyuan thought he should increase his meds. He’d go back to Dr. Cen for a follow-up next week.

“How did the imprint disappear?”

At the edge of the court, several people in black combat uniforms crept closer.

The one in front checked and rechecked a detector, then finally looked, puzzled, at the empty court.

“That makes no sense.” He frowned. “There was clearly an S-class alert just now…”

“You already know it’s S-class.”

A light laugh came out of the dark, mocking, devil-may-care.

—And you still came?