Horror Game Designer

This novel is translated and hosted on bcatranslation

Upon venturing into the shadowy depths of the cellar, Gao Ming had encountered a total of four pairs of hands, each with a story to tell.

The first pair, likely belonging to the cellar’s blind inhabitant – a man plagued by madness – forcibly pulled Gao Ming deeper into the dark recesses of the cellar, and metaphorically, into the man’s own troubled and murky past.

The second set of hands, presumably those of the blind man’s biological parents, were harsh and unrelenting. They struck him repeatedly as if trying to drive him away, a stark contrast to the care and love typically expected from parents.

The third pair of hands Gao Ming encountered painted a picture of a tragic childhood marred by exploitation. They seemed to be those of human traffickers, who likely planned to use the blind man, then just a child, as a beggar on the streets, a fate far too common for many unfortunate souls.

The fourth and final pair of hands offered a starkly different story. They were gentle and nurturing, seemingly belonging to someone who took it upon themselves to care for the blind man. This person fed him, taught him essential life skills, and provided a semblance of normalcy and security in his otherwise tumultuous life. It appeared there was no familial bond here, just an act of pure, selfless kindness in a world otherwise void of compassion.

For the blind man, these hands were a lifeline in his soundless, colorless existence, akin to a ray of hope for a soul drowning in despair.

Amidst his task of learning traditional crafts like bamboo basket and mat weaving, Gao Ming found himself contemplating the identity of this altruistic individual. This person, who never once appeared in the infamous dog cellar case, had profoundly impacted the blind man’s life.

“What happened later?” Gao Ming wondered.

A firm tap on his shoulder from the hands broke his train of thought, urging him to quicken his pace in learning. It was as if their owner sensed an impending danger or urgency.

Gao Ming, too, began to feel a sense of foreboding. He strained his senses, trying to identify a faint odor that lingered in the air. It was not the overpowering stench of decay or body odor, but something subtler, reminiscent of ammonia.

This scent led Gao Ming to a troubling possibility. It hinted at kidney disease, where the failure to excrete waste results in toxins circulating in the bloodstream. These toxins, when expelled through sweat or breath, can produce an ammonia-like odor.

“Her condition might be quite severe,” Gao Ming realized.

For the blind madman, these hands were like a precarious lifeline, one that could be withdrawn at any moment.

“What can I do?” Gao Ming felt a profound helplessness, immersed in a world defined only by scents.

As he adapted to living in darkness and silence, the smell emanating from the hands grew stronger. Gao Ming began to piece together a poignant narrative: at home, there were always the aromas of food but never the scent of medicine. Did this kind soul save the blind man but neglect her own health?

Unable to see a face or hear a voice, Gao Ming’s memories of her were shaped solely by her acts of kindness and the faint smell that accompanied her presence. Her name, her voice – these remained unknown to him.

Gradually, Gao Ming found himself developing a dependency on these hands, much like the blind madman had. But then, unexpectedly, the hands released him as if encouraging him to achieve something independently.

The task at hand wasn’t about combat or solving complex puzzles; it was about mastering the mundane, everyday tasks that most take for granted.

Gao Ming stumbled and fell repeatedly in this endeavor, but each time, the hands were there to assist him. As long as he could detect that faint ammonia scent, he felt reassured, knowing he wasn’t alone.

Eventually, Gao Ming mastered these tasks, acclimating himself to this silent, dark world. But as he reached this milestone, his heart sank. The familiar smell began to fade, growing weaker by the moment.

Desperate to hold onto this connection, Gao Ming stumbled through the mud, tripping over unseen obstacles. He fell, his face smeared with mud and his hands possibly injured. But this time, the hands didn’t come to his aid.

Alone and disoriented in the pitch-black silence, Gao Ming felt an overwhelming sense of isolation. “Aren’t you coming back?” he longed to cry out, but his voice was lost in the void.

His emotions churned within him. Though accustomed to facing death and danger with composure, Gao Ming hadn’t anticipated the profound despair of this world.

Standing still for a moment, he followed the lessons taught by the hands, feeling his way along the stone walls until he found a door. It led him back to the place where bamboo mats were woven, the realm of those nurturing hands. But now, it was just him in that space.

“Am I to remain here forever, trapped in this oppressive darkness of despair?” Gao Ming pondered as negative emotions bubbled to the surface.

He attempted to weave bamboo mats, a task that now seemed hollow. Reaching forward, his hands encountered a leg, but it wasn’t accompanied by the familiar smell. The person in the room was a stranger.

Suddenly, Gao Ming was kicked, falling backward into another person. The room filled with people, each carrying their own distinct scents – sweat, wheat seedlings, cow dung – but none had the smell he yearned for.

This novel is translated and hosted on bcatranslation

“Could these be other villagers?” Gao Ming wondered.

These intruders ransacked the room, indifferent to Gao Ming’s presence unless he obstructed them, in which case they reacted with violence.

The once familiar space was destroyed beyond recognition, its contents plundered. Yet, this was not the worst of it. Someone seized Gao Ming, threw him out, and claimed the house for themselves.

“What can I do now? As a person who can’t hear, see, or speak, what are my options?” Gao Ming’s despair deepened.

He lost track of time in the darkness, trying to empathize with the blind madman’s perspective. “Could it be that the blind madman’s intention to kidnap village children was born out of a desire for vengeance against these villagers? But given his experiences, the blind man was neither mad nor capable of such an act.”

As Gao Ming’s thoughts spiraled, the familiar smell suddenly returned, and the hands grasped his wrist once more.

“It’s her!” he realized with a surge of relief.

She seemed intent on leading him somewhere, moving slowly, her scent growing stronger. The terrain shifted beneath their feet, sloping downwards, until Gao Ming’s hands brushed against broken bricks at what seemed to be the cellar’s entrance.

“Is this the way out of the cellar?” he wondered.

Reality and memory started to blend. Gao Ming faintly heard rain and saw a glimmer of light piercing the darkness.

“Did she find a new refuge for the blind man after their home was plundered?” he speculated.

The hands released him, gently pushing his shoulder, signaling him to walk backward, towards the light and sound, towards escape.

Most investigators trapped in such memories would seize this opportunity to leave, and Gao Ming himself was tempted. But he recognized that in his current role as the blind madman, departure might not be the right choice.

Would the blind man abandon these hands, his lifeline, and turn away?

Gao Ming pondered three possibilities: first, to follow her guidance and leave; second, to stay in the darkness with his benefactor; third, to consider that his benefactor might already be deceased, and this scenario was just the blind man’s fanciful longing for a happy ending.

With these thoughts in mind, Gao Ming chose to follow his heart. He didn’t leave but instead took hold of those hands and walked deeper into the cellar.

As his reality and memory merged further, the details of the cellar became clearer, and the surrounding smells became more intense, yet Gao Ming felt no repulsion.

He familiarized himself with the cellar’s contents through touch, learning to navigate this world of darkness and silence. His focus turned to caring for his gravely ill benefactor. The lack of sight and sound did not impede his ability to feel compassion and empathy.

What Gao Ming was undertaking could be what many yearn to do – to repay an act of kindness, to make amends in a life filled with regrets.

Visit and read more novel to help us update chapter quickly. Thank you so much!