Chapter 42: 60 Seconds
In the dim bathroom, Chen Ge sat alone in the bathtub, breathing repeatedly to expel the stale air from his lungs. 3:44 a.m. was the intersection of night and dawn. He had only one chance, and he had to be cautious.
The room was silent, with no unusual movements in the hallway. The monster from the mirror didn’t seem to have come.
Time ticked by, second by second. Chen Ge set aside the electronic watch he’d specially found. When the numbers on the screen turned to forty-three, his focus sharpened. He opened his mouth and began to inhale slowly.
The candle flame flickered. Chen Ge’s body gradually tilted downward, his eyes fixed on the electronic watch with unprecedented concentration.
As the numbers on the screen changed again, Chen Ge didn’t hesitate. He leaned back and lay down in the bathtub.
3:44 a.m.!
A cold sensation seemed to surge from all directions, engulfing him.
Holding his breath in the dead of night felt strange.
Absolute darkness, as if the world had shrunk to only himself, sinking endlessly. Absolute silence, with only the sounds from his own body—his heartbeat—reaching his ears.
The cold stimulated every nerve. Lying at the bottom of the tub, Chen Ge cast aside all distractions and silently counted his heartbeats.
“Sixty seconds. Just hold on for sixty seconds.”
He had never experienced this before. The night and the air seemed to merge, the faint candlelight like a distant lighthouse growing farther away, while he felt as if he were sinking deeper into the ocean.
“One, two…”
After the first ten seconds, time seemed to slow down.
The sound of water trickled in his ears, surrounded by darkness on all sides. Chen Ge silently recited his parents’ names, maintaining his initial posture, gripping the handles of the kitchen knives as his body swayed with the water’s motion.
The oxygen in his lungs was slowly depleting. Chen Ge felt a slight discomfort, as if something heavy were pressing down on him.
“Fifteen, sixteen…”
Each heartbeat consumed more oxygen from his lungs. As his pulse slowed, time seemed to drag, each second split into countless fragments.
The discomfort grew stronger, like hands slowly pressing on his neck, tightening bit by bit.
Lying in the tub, Chen Ge opened his eyes. The night was deep, and he could see nothing, as if he were locked into another world.
After another three or four seconds, his complexion grew worse, not just pale in the ordinary sense.
“How long have I held on? It should be almost over, right?”
Dripping water droplets brushed past his ears. In the dead silence, a strange sound suddenly emerged.
It seemed to come from the hallway outside the door. Chen Ge didn’t know why he could hear it so clearly—perhaps the other party was deliberately making noise to distract him.
“Footsteps? Someone pacing back and forth in the hallway?”
His slowing heartbeat began to quicken, his body tensing involuntarily. “Maybe the monster from the mirror is coming for me. I hope the dolls can hold it off. At most, thirty more seconds, and I’ll complete the task!”
His thoughts grew sluggish. A buzzing noise started in his ears. Chen Ge wasn’t in good shape. The footsteps in the hallway kept him on edge, but he forced himself not to get distracted, continuing to silently recite his parents’ names while counting his heartbeats.
“Twenty-eight, twenty-nine…”
There was no water around, yet Chen Ge felt as if water were flooding his ears, distorting sounds. The footsteps grew hurried, as if the other party was also trying to find a way in.
A few more seconds passed. Chen Ge felt as if a boulder were crushing his chest, the veins on his neck bulging slowly. His hands and feet turned cold, and a sense of weakness spread through his body.
His brain’s reactions slowed further. Chen Ge was now holding on purely by willpower.
“Bang! Bang! Bang!”
Without warning, something slammed into the door.
Chen Ge’s heart leaped. The thing outside couldn’t hold back anymore!
Perhaps because a doll was placed behind the door, after three thuds failed to open it, the banging stopped, and the room fell silent again.
The situation was much the same as before, with one difference: Chen Ge himself. Normally, he could hold his breath for a full minute, but the footsteps in the hallway and the door-slamming had quickened his heartbeat. Under stress, oxygen consumption skyrocketed.
He felt he was nearing his limit. The last trace of oxygen in his lungs was drained, and every second was agony.
“Thirty-nine, forty…”
When he silently counted to forty, dizziness hit him. His physical condition no longer allowed him to continue counting.
Unable to focus, the suffocation grew more intense. Chen Ge’s consciousness began to blur. Many things slipped from his mind, leaving only an instinctive recollection of memories about his parents.
Veins stood out, bulging against his pale skin. The tendons on his neck twitched, and his grip on the kitchen knives gradually loosened.
He felt he was teetering on the edge of death, and at the same time, he understood the words in the task.
“When time reaches the gap between night and dawn, you can see the ones you miss at the boundary of life and death.”
The meaning was clear: at the moment of transition between day and night, someone on the verge of death could glimpse the other world!
Chen Ge stared unblinkingly at the bathroom ceiling. His pupils were dilating. Everything was drifting away from him. He saw no one he wanted to see—only darkness, a deep, despairing darkness.
His lungs felt crushed, an indescribable tightness.
“No, if this continues, I might actually suffocate.”
Most of the forty-fourth minute past 3 a.m. had passed. The person he wanted to see still hadn’t appeared. Chen Ge no longer held any illusions. In fact, he felt a sense of relief—his parents hadn’t shown up, which at least meant they were still alive.
His cold arms braced against the bottom of the tub. With the last shred of rationality, he made a decision: it was time to give up.
Using his strength, Chen Ge was about to stop holding his breath when he suddenly sensed something wrong!
Something was covering his mouth and nose, preventing him from surfacing.
His dilated pupils snapped into focus. Chen Ge looked above his head—there was nothing there!
The dolls had sealed the door and the area around the tub. The monster from the mirror shouldn’t be able to get in. Who was causing this?
Veins on his neck strained. Chen Ge’s face was terrifyingly pale. Life hung in the balance. With his last ounce of strength, he gripped the kitchen knife and swung it above his head and in front of him.
Prolonged oxygen deprivation had pushed his body and will to the limit, like a spring stretched to its breaking point.
The knife swung. In a daze, Chen Ge seemed to cut something. A sharp “crack” sounded in his ears, and the force above his head vanished instantly.
With no more obstruction, Chen Ge sat up abruptly from the tub, gasping in huge gulps of air!