Old Photograph

Chen Chuan calmly glanced at his Second Self. As expected, the blurring effect had manifested, and it was even more pronounced than yesterday. He remembered the warning in the dossier: under no circumstances should he look at the figure's face. Thus, he did not turn his gaze toward it, keeping his eyes fixed on the screen. However, the stimulation to his mutated tissue could not be ignored. To prevent it from growing out of control, he was forced to continue guiding it with his breathing technique. Setting aside the unpredictable collateral harm, this effect was actually far greater than the permeation of medicinal agents. He tuned out all outside distractions and focused entirely on his task, just as he did during training. He still had the defense line of his Second Self; as long as the Second Self endured, he had nothing else to worry about. Time slipped slowly by. At a certain moment, he suddenly realized that the blurring on his Second Self had vanished completely. Taking a breath, he waited a little longer, then turned his head slowly to the side. The seat next to him was empty; nothing was there. He adjusted his breathing slightly, stood up, and walked out of the screening hall. Once out in the corridor, he told the assistant waiting there to pass word to Manager Huang that he would return tomorrow, then took his leave. Outside, it was still early morning, and the sky remained shrouded in gloom. After getting into the cinema's car to be driven back, he suddenly felt something was amiss. He raised a hand to touch his clothes and found threads coming loose in several places. Under the car light, it even seemed slightly faded—though he wasn't sure if that was just an illusion. He grew thoughtful. The dossier Cheng Zitong gave him made no mention of the figure changing position, so naturally there was no explanation or countermeasure for such a situation. Now he wondered what had caused this. Was it because he had guided the mutated tissue? It was not impossible. In fact, that was the only distinct thing he had done. Presumably, no one before him had ever tried such a thing, but it was something he had to do; he could not simply allow the mutated tissue to grow unchecked and had to keep it reined in. He thought further. Dispelling this urban legend took three days in total. By the second day, it had already shifted right beside him. He couldn't help considering what might happen on the third day. Would it overlap with him? Or would it move somewhere else? If that happened, how should he deal with it? He could consult Cheng Zitong once he returned to school; after all, his instructor had researched these matters deeply. After returning to school, he took a short nap, getting up around eight in the morning. He washed up and prepared to go out. He originally planned to wear yesterday's coat, but when he picked it up and felt the fabric, he found it truly had aged somewhat. However, it was only the coat; his inner layers and his wristwatch seemed unaffected. Pondering this, he changed clothes, stepped outside, and went to a public telephone to dial a number. Once the call went through, Cheng Zitong's voice came over the line. "Xiao Chuan, calling me at this hour—did you run into some kind of problem?" Chen Chuan said, "Instructor, I do have a question. Here is what happened." He gave a brief summary of what had occurred a few hours earlier. Cheng Zitong listened, thought for a moment, and said, "This isn't convenient to discuss over the phone. Don't worry for now. I'll come find you at noon, and we'll figure out a solution." Chen Chuan agreed and hung up. Unfazed, Chen Chuan carried on with his daily training. When noon came, Cheng Zitong arrived and said to him, "Come on, let's get some food first. We can talk while we eat." Chen Chuan knew his instructor was swamped with work lately and pressed for time, so using mealtime made sense. He followed Cheng Zitong to a faculty private room in the cafeteria. After sitting down and ordering their dishes, Cheng Zitong asked about a few more details, thought it over, and then said: "I haven't heard of the position shifting before either. Your situation is quite unique, but it could indeed be related to your guiding of the mutated tissue. "Judging by historical records, whether in ancient texts from the Old Era or modern documentation, we fighters are the ones most prone to encountering urban legends. There seems to be a natural attraction between the two. "Of course, ordinary people who encounter urban legends either don't survive, or if they happen to live, their names aren't recorded, so we can't make rash assumptions based solely on that. But looking at your dilemma, do you suspect that this figure might move again next time—perhaps even to the very seat you occupy?" Chen Chuan replied, "I have indeed considered that possibility." Cheng Zitong said, "There is one simplest solution: abandon the commission directly. Urban legends like the phantom in the cinema are bound to a specific area. As long as you leave, there's virtually no danger. At most, a person might fall ill or suffer a period of low spirits." "Instructor, if I choose to withdraw, will the urban legend remain there permanently?" "Yes, and it might become even more dangerous than before." Chen Chuan looked up and said, "Then I don't intend to give up. May I ask if there is another way?" Cheng Zitong smiled. "I knew you wouldn't. Actually, the simplest method is just to close your eyes. The cardinal rule here is to never see the urban legend's face; avoiding that avoids most of the danger. However, given your unusual circumstances, that really isn't secure enough. There is an item that can help you." He reached for his briefcase and pulled out a rust-covered antique mirror whose reflective surface was barely discernible. "This item was left behind after the resolution of another urban legend. Take this with you tonight and place it in the row behind you. Remember, it must be directly behind your own seat." Chen Chuan took it. "Instructor, that's all it takes?" Cheng Zitong said, "That will be enough. Although I haven't encountered your specific case, after studying urban legends for so many years, I still have a few tricks up my sleeve. Otherwise, I wouldn't have let you take this commission in the first place. "However, you must understand that with things like this, it's hard to guarantee absolute safety, nor does it mean there aren't other ways to resolve it. Keep your wits about you. Urban legends are lethal to ordinary people, taking lives at the slightest misstep, but we fighters have far better endurance. This one isn't among the most dangerous, so I believe you can handle it." Chen Chuan nodded. "Thank you, Instructor." Cheng Zitong chuckled. "Let's eat first." After finishing lunch, Chen Chuan returned to his dormitory and once again threw himself into training. At six in the evening, after preparing his gear, he took his satchel, picked up his saber, and stepped out. The cinema's car arrived on schedule, driving him straight to Lanxiang Cinema. Familiar with the route now, he greeted Manager Huang's assistant and headed directly into the screening hall. Once inside, he unslung the satchel he had carried, hung it outside the door, then took the mirror out. Walking to the middle of the hall, he unfolded the wooden kickstand attached to the back of the mirror's frame and set it down firmly on the seat directly behind his own. With that done, he took his seat in the row in front and began watching the movie. True to its reputation as the largest cinema in the southern district, it had an extensive catalog. Tonight they once again screened several films he had never seen before—foreign films this time, which gave him a glimpse of what other parts of the world looked like. As the movies played, midnight drew closer. He had not worn his watch this time, leaving him unable to check the exact hour, so he simply waited in silence. Seemingly a long time later, quite abruptly, the silver screen flickered. A chill seemed to wash over him, and almost at the exact same moment, the blurring effect abruptly appeared on his Second Self. Yet, he did not see the figure. It did not appear to be in the adjacent seat either. If the antique mirror was working, the urban legend should now be sitting right behind him. Chen Chuan observed his Second Self. The blurring had already exceeded the potency of medicinal agents. Even without employing the Aperture Breathing Technique, he could feel his mutated tissue becoming extraordinarily active. Under this intense stimulation, the tissue was growing and spreading rapidly, even more vigorously than last time. He had anticipated this to some degree, so he closed his eyes and used the breathing technique taught by He Xiaoxing to guide it, keeping it from expanding unchecked. During this process, he noticed that the blurring not only showed no sign of abating, but was steadily deepening. This indicated that the urban legend seemed to be drawing progressively closer to him, perhaps even threatening to truly overlap with him in the end. Yet he remained unmoved, wholly immersed in guiding his mutated tissue. This continued for a long time until, at the exact stroke of four in the morning, all the anomalies—whether the blurring on his body or the icy chill—vanished without warning. Whether by coincidence or breakdown, the film playing on the big screen also cut off abruptly. Chen Chuan waited a short while before slowly opening his eyes. He stood up, felt around on the seat next to him, and picked up the flashlight he had left there. Clicking it on, he shone it back and forth, then stepped out into the aisle, walked around to the row behind, and retrieved the antique mirror. Just as he was about to leave, however, an intuition struck him. He shone the flashlight twice more, reached down to feel between the gaps, and pulled a dust-covered old photograph from the crevice between the backrest and the seat cushion. He examined it under the beam. The photograph was about two inches in size and seemed to depict a woman. Because it was aged and yellowed, her facial features were hard to distinguish clearly, but one could faintly make out a slender, graceful figure, a thin braid reaching down to her ankles, and what appeared to be an old-fashioned stage costume. Thinking it over, he put it away for now and walked out. He informed Manager Huang's assistant, who promptly ran off. Before long, Manager Huang came hurrying over, completely out of breath. Wiping his sweat with a handkerchief, he looked at Chen Chuan with keen anticipation. "Mr. Chen?" Chen Chuan said to him, "Manager Huang, the matter has been resolved." Manager Huang was overjoyed. He rushed forward, seized Chen Chuan's hand, and pumped it repeatedly. "Thank you, Mr. Chen! Thank you so much! You've truly done us a tremendous favor!" Chen Chuan said, "You are too polite, Manager Huang. I came here specifically to handle this matter." "I must thank you regardless! We approached quite a few people before this, but they either made excuses and refused to come, or had no way of dealing with it. It had to be Mr. Chen after all. A true expert—solving our huge dilemma as soon as you took action!" Manager Huang beamed with gratitude. "From now on, Mr. Chen is an honored guest of our Lanxiang Cinema. Whenever you visit, we will treat you with our very best hospitality." At that point, Chen Chuan thought for a moment, took out the old photograph he had found, and showed it to him. "Manager Huang, I have a question to ask. Do you recognize the person in this photo?" Manager Huang leaned in to look, then shook his head. But then something seemed to occur to him. "Mr. Chen, wait a moment. Someone else might know. Could I borrow the photograph for a moment?" "Go ahead." Chen Chuan handed the photograph over. Manager Huang told his assistant to attend to Chen Chuan properly while he hurried off with the photograph. After about ten minutes, he came trotting back, wheezing heavily. Once he caught his breath, he said, "Mr. Chen, I asked around and found out. The person in the photo is wearing old theater costumes from back in the day—most likely an actress from an old opera troupe."