Chapter 2: - The End and the Beginning

On a bench, a man in an old leather jacket closed the comic in his hands and set it beside him.

The cover showed two women talking on the phone. One wore business attire; the other carried a faintly worldly, fallen-woman air. Blood-tinted snowflakes drifted across one corner of the cover, lending the whole image an oppressive, funeral-like mood.

The man in the leather jacket took out a cigarette, bit it between his lips, and lit it. After blowing out a smoke ring, he pursed his lips. There was a trace of reminiscence in his eyes.

A Lamborghini drove toward him. Just before passing the bench, it braked and came to a smooth stop.

A man in a wine-red suit stepped out.

After getting out, the suited man exchanged a look with the man in the leather jacket. They clearly knew each other, but neither seemed in a hurry to say hello.

The suited man pulled an electronic cigarette from his pocket. While loading a pod into the heating stick, his gaze wandered idly around the area before finally landing on the comic lying on the bench.

“Boss’s new work?” he asked.

“Mm.” The man in the leather jacket nodded. His hair was slick with grease, so thoroughly plastered down that even the winter wind could not move his bangs.

“How is it?”

“Too mild.”

The suited man narrowed his eyes when he heard that. He reached out, picked up the comic himself, and started flipping through it.

The drawing, composition, and design were all beyond criticism. It was Boss’s level of work.

The final spread in particular combined the left and right pages into one large image. Both in plot and in the abrupt change of visual style, it created an enormous contrast and impact.

The wounded-literature narrative style at the beginning and the urban-neon art style ultimately reversed each other at the end. It was a good story, and a good comic.

Even so, the suited man nodded in agreement.

“It really is too mild.”

They all knew Boss’s work.

He liked pursuing a sense of extreme tearing, whether in plot or visual rendering. His stories pressed down so hard on the reader that even breathing while reading them could become something done carefully.

Compared with Boss’s earlier works, this comic was like a chef accustomed to cooking heavy, rich dishes suddenly serving up a plate of broccoli seasoned with nothing but a little salt.

“You two really got here early.”

Across the street, a man and a woman were walking toward them together.

They were siblings.

The younger brother wore a black down jacket, a hat, and a scarf. As he walked, he kept his neck tucked and his limbs drawn in, shivering slightly. Clearly, he did not handle the outdoor cold well.

His older sister wore a white down jacket and sky-blue jeans. Her face was not the narrow melon-seed shape considered fashionable, but slightly rounder. Even so, her features were delicate, giving her a very pure impression.

“Siyao, Siyu, you’re here.”

The suited man greeted them happily, becoming particularly enthusiastic when facing the woman.

“Deng Ge, wipe the drool off your mouth.”

Every younger brother possessed a natural hostility toward any man trying to become his brother-in-law, and Qin Siyu was no exception.

At the same time, every prospective brother-in-law tended to show immense tolerance toward his future wife’s younger brother.

Of course, once he graduated from “prospective” status, he would start guarding against the possibility that his wife might turn into a “little-brother-supporting demon” who poured the whole household into subsidizing her brother.

“Siyu, why did you come out today? It’s cold. Be careful you don’t catch something.”

The concern sounded completely sincere.

Qin Siyu reached the bench and ignored Deng Ge. Instead, he looked toward the man in the leather jacket and smiled.

“Brother Qiang, are you still single?”

The man in the leather jacket was named Xu Qiang. Back when this circle first formed, he had been the oldest of them. Most of the others were still university students or had only recently graduated, while Xu Qiang was already uncle-aged.

Yet he had remained single the entire time.

Naturally, that had always made this part of his life a favorite target for jokes.

Xu Qiang shook his head, reached up, and scratched his greasy hair, which was practically reflective.

“Still too early.”

Qin Siyao, meanwhile, took the comic from Deng Ge.

Deng Ge eagerly introduced it from beside her.

“This is Boss’s new work. Looks like he drew it a few months ago.”

Qin Siyao began flipping through the comic.

It was thin and the story was short. If one did not stop to savor the artwork carefully, it could be read very quickly.

After reaching the last page, Qin Siyao lowered the comic and pursed her lips.

“What is it? What’s wrong with Boss’s comic?”

Qin Siyu took the comic from his sister, flipped through it for a while, then asked in surprise:

“How could Boss draw something like this?”

Xu Qiang, still sitting on the bench, guessed:

“Maybe Boss was short on money.”

If he had not needed money, then given Boss’s personality, he would never have drawn something this light in flavor.

“Boss is something else. If he was short on money, why didn’t he come to me?” Deng Ge said.

Qin Siyu shot Deng Ge an irritated glare.

“Yes, yes, everyone knows you’ve made several hit animated movies over the last two years and earned a ton of money. But what’s the point of flexing that here?”

“Flexing what? If Boss needed money, would I refuse him? Back then, if Boss hadn’t helped support me, I would’ve gone home and squatted around doing nothing ages ago.”

“Even if Boss was desperate for money, he still wouldn’t open his mouth and ask us for it,” Xu Qiang said with a sigh.

Deng Ge and Qin Siyu both fell silent.

That was true.

Boss was still Boss.

No matter how difficult his life became, he would never reach out a hand and ask any of them for money.

At that moment, a motorcycle approached and stopped beside them.

The rider was a woman.

Her close-fitting riding suit displayed her figure without reservation.

The woman lifted her helmet visor and swept her gaze over everyone present before saying indifferently:

“You all came pretty early.”

“A’Qiu...”

“Sister Qiu...”

Deng Ge and the others were clearly surprised.

They had not expected her to come today either.

“Mm. Boss sent me a message.”

A’Qiu removed her helmet, hung it on the handlebar, got off the bike, and took out her phone.

Following the directions on the phone, they quickly found the apartment.

“Is Boss planning some kind of reunion?” Deng Ge asked while preparing to enter the door code.

The studio had dissolved three years ago.

After it disbanded, they had basically never gathered again.

Deng Ge had joined an animation company. Relying on his ability and creativity, he quickly entered management. Two animated films he had personally overseen became well-known hits over the past two years, and both his income and social standing were incomparable to what they had once been.

Qin Siyu’s health was poor. After the studio dissolved, he basically stayed home and did not work outside.

Qin Siyao became a designer at a clothing company.

Xu Qiang worked at a game company, pulling 996 shifts and “enjoying the blessing.”

As for A’Qiu, after leaving the studio she spent two years volunteering in the mountains and had only returned at the beginning of this year.

“Maybe... maybe.” Qin Siyu sounded uncertain. “I haven’t seen Boss in such a long time. I really miss him.”

Boss’s name was Zheng Fan.

He was a little younger than Xu Qiang, but because he had been the one who brought the studio together in the first place, he had always been the unquestioned leader.

During the studio’s five years of operation, he had poured in the most effort.

Even after the studio dissolved and everyone else left for different reasons, he remained alone, guarding the studio.

Every so often, Boss still sent them digital comics by email, even though there was almost no chance those works could ever be formally published or distributed.

Deng Ge entered the code.

The lock clicked open.

He pushed the door inward.

Beyond it was a living room.

The walls were covered in dark-toned wallpaper that created an oppressive atmosphere. With the curtains drawn shut as well, the room remained gloomy despite it still being daytime.

“This is Boss’s home, right?”

Deng Ge felt along the wall beside the entrance and found the switch.

The lights came on.

They were not bright.

Three lamps overhead emitted only a faint smoked-yellow glow, but it was enough to illuminate the room.

“What’s hanging on the wall...?”

Qin Siyu squeezed past Deng Ge and walked over to the wall.

A painting hung there.

It was nearly two meters long and one meter wide, protected under glass almost like a giant photograph.

The painting depicted a dwarf.

His face was somewhat deformed. His legs and feet were disproportionately thick and powerful. Across his back was an iron sword absurdly oversized for his small body.

Naturally, the sword could not be strapped upright because the dwarf himself was shorter than the blade.

Instead, it hung horizontally across his back, making the image look faintly ridiculous.

“This is Xue San.”

The moment Qin Siyu saw the painting, his hands began trembling.

The character in the picture came from his own idea.

Xue San had been the protagonist of one of his long-running comics.

Qin Siyu was short, something that had always made him self-conscious.

So his protagonist had been a dwarf.

An evil dwarf.

The dwarf possessed one particular hobby: anyone who mocked his height became prey.

And those victims would then be “reorganized.”

Too tall?

Saw off a section.

Too short?

Stretch them out.

The quirk had been inspired by a Western mythological story, but it also expressed something universal in human nature.

“Three-Legged Xue San?”

Deng Ge stood behind Qin Siyu and tossed out the joke.

The dwarf’s name was Xue San, but readers of the comic had nicknamed him “Three-Legged Xue San.”

“Boss painted this, right?” Xu Qiang asked as he came over.

“Probably. A pity Siyu’s series sold terribly back then. But that makes sense. It’s hard for readers to project themselves into a protagonist like this,” Deng Ge said with a sigh.

When the studio had still existed, Boss once asked every member to design one character entirely according to his own tastes.

Then everyone helped turn those characters into comics.

*The Dwarf Xue San* had been Qin Siyu’s work.

Its market response had been the worst of them all.

Very few readers could insert themselves into the role of an ugly dwarf.

“It’s been years. Is there any point bringing that up?” Qin Siyu asked, clearly dissatisfied with Deng Ge’s tone.

In truth, a person’s temper and character really could change along with his social position.

Especially Deng Ge now.

He was unquestionably successful.

Even if he did not mean to show it deliberately, meeting old friends who had not done as well naturally caused certain things to leak out.

“No, no, no. That’s called understanding the market. Back then our studio spread too much effort across too many projects instead of concentrating on our flagship works. That’s what caused—”

“Enough,” Qin Siyao said.

Deng Ge shut his mouth immediately.

Qin Siyu ignored him and continued staring silently at the portrait of the dwarf.

Deng Ge curled his lip, turned around, and looked toward the other wall.

His expression immediately brightened.

“Siyao, come look. This is your Feng Siniang.”

It was another character portrait.

In the painting, a graceful woman leaned against a doorframe, spring in her eyes and cheeks. Her clothing resembled a kimono, exposing just enough skin to send most men’s thoughts wandering.

Qin Siyao walked over and stared at Feng Siniang in the painting, somewhat dazed.

Feng Siniang was the protagonist of her comic.

She was neither fully human nor ghost.

Qin Siyao had never explained Feng Siniang’s background in the comic, so readers had only guessed that she might have suffered betrayal in love or some kind of family tragedy.

Because the Feng Siniang in the stories was a woman who never followed rules.

She ran a brothel.

Across different series, she would simply be running her brothel in different cities or different eras.

Feng Siniang loved luxury.

She also loved tormenting people.

She lived by a strange set of personal rules.

The comic had sold fairly well back then because it contained plenty of erotic scenes: delicate, full-bodied, imaginative, and visually striking, not inferior in the least to foreign masters of the genre.

Quite a few readers bought the comic specifically for those scenes.

But one had to remember that Qin Siyao had joined the studio just after starting university.

At the time, she had never even dated.

Deng Ge could practically guarantee she had still been a virgin.

Yet the scenes she drew looked like the work of some wildly experienced old hand.

For a long time, Deng Ge had believed the reason he failed to win Qin Siyao back then was not that he himself was inadequate.

It was simply that no living man could compete with the two-dimensional men inside Qin Siyao’s imagination.

“This is my Fan Li.”

Xu Qiang stopped in front of another painting.

Excited, he raised a hand and scratched his greasy hair again, bringing down a fair amount of dandruff.

The painting before him showed a woodcutter carrying firewood.

The woodcutter looked lean, strong, and honest.

He was a woodcutter.

A woodcutter who killed without blinking.

He killed people with the same frequency he chopped wood.

It was not that he took special pleasure in murder.

Killing was simply a mechanical habit.

This comic had sold about as poorly as Qin Siyu’s *Xue San*.

It had been one of the studio’s complete flops.

The reason was simple.

Modern comics were produced through an extremely specialized chain of labor.

Drawing, scripts, plotting, character design, and so on were all separate skills.

True all-rounders were rare.

Qin Siyu and Xu Qiang, for example, were stronger at practical execution than story construction.

Xu Qiang’s comic about a murderous woodcutter had a plot much like Xu Qiang himself: too plain.

So plain that readers simply could not keep reading.

“No way Boss painted all of yours and skipped mine. Hey! Found him. A’Ming!”

Deng Ge pointed toward a portrait of a somewhat slender man.

Faint fangs showed at the corners of the man’s mouth.

His entire body possessed a sickly pallor.

His name was A’Ming.

He was a vampire.

A character designed by Deng Ge.

One could say Deng Ge’s later success had already revealed itself back when he was still at the studio.

His vampire comic ranked second in studio sales, surpassed only by Boss’s *Demon Pill*.

An Eastern-faced vampire, paired with an icy and unrestrained personality, placed inside fast-paced stories full of blood and stimulation.

The market response had been excellent.

A character audiences liked, combined with a story capable of igniting their blood, was the key to capturing the market.

Deng Ge’s firm belief in that principle was precisely why his career had flourished over the past several years.

In the comic, A’Ming was utterly mad.

No matter what opponent he faced, he flipped the table and attacked directly.

Yet A’Ming was also lonely.

He did not consider himself a vampire.

At the same time, he was no longer truly human.

He had no friends.

After every burst of madness came a cold solitude heartbreaking enough to make readers pity him.

That was why the character had so many female fans.

A’Qiu walked silently behind everyone.

She seemed afraid.

And yet also expectant.

But what had to come eventually came.

She saw one painting.

In it, a man with faintly bluish skin crouched on the ground.

Around him lay a chaotic field of corpses and bones.

His name was Liang Cheng.

He was a zombie.

He thirsted for blood.

He was cruel and utterly cold.

He had lived from ancient times all the way into the modern age.

Time had only deepened his alienation from the world.

And his name was the same as his creator’s.

Liang Cheng...

Qin Siyao had already looked away from Feng Siniang.

When she saw A’Qiu and the painting before her, she too fell silent.

Back then, the studio had contained seven people.

Boss.

Qin Siyao and her younger brother Qin Siyu.

Deng Ge.

Xu Qiang.

A’Qiu.

And Liang Cheng.

Liang Cheng and A’Qiu had once been lovers.

They were already together when they joined the studio.

But more than three years ago, Liang Cheng died in a traffic accident.

One could say the studio’s dissolution began with Liang Cheng’s death.

But that had not been the main reason.

Liang Cheng’s death left A’Qiu disheartened about many things.

Even so, a seven-person studio losing two members did not necessarily mean it could no longer operate.

The greater problem was that the studio had always focused on horror and gore comics.

That was already a niche field.

Combined with tighter regulations and repeated crackdowns, the studio’s room to survive grew smaller and smaller.

Once their two most popular and best-selling series, *Demon Pill* and *The Vampire A’Ming*, were both banned, the studio abruptly found itself staring into an uncertain future.

At the time, Deng Ge strongly argued that the studio should adapt to the market.

They could draw more positive material, or at least material that was less bloody and horrific.

That would create a better environment for survival while bringing in a larger audience and more income.

Boss rejected the suggestion outright.

Boss said they had come together in the first place because they loved horror and gore.

He did not want to defile the original passion that had brought them together.

And so the studio’s operations finally ground to a complete halt.

Deng Ge left first, joining an animation company and beginning a new stage of his career.

Next came the Qin siblings.

The Qin family was ordinary.

Their parents were workers.

Qin Siyu’s health was poor, and his annual medical expenses were a constant problem.

Qin Siyao therefore had no choice but to leave and find another line of work.

Xu Qiang was the last to go.

After everyone else had left, he silently packed his things.

Then he cooked Boss one last bowl of noodles and joined a game company.

Five years earlier, shared interests had brought them together.

They had weathered five years of storms side by side.

In the end, however, reality still defeated them through the eternal truth that every banquet must eventually end.

Very close beside the portrait of zombie Liang Cheng hung another painting.

This was the protagonist of A’Qiu’s comic.

It was not a woman.

Instead, it depicted a man with empty eye sockets.

His name was Bei.

He was blind.

He was good at playing the piano.

When killing, he liked placing both hands in front of himself and playing an invisible melody in the air while his victim was tortured to death.

A’Qiu herself had been the principal artist on *The Blind Man Bei*.

Its visual style was extremely realistic, but its plot was weak.

In many installments, Bei would already be killing someone at the beginning, making it seem as though the entire comic existed only for murder itself.

Even readers who enjoyed horror had sometimes found that unbearable.

They still needed some plot as seasoning.

Yet perhaps because of the particular perspective A’Qiu brought as a woman, Bei had attracted a surprisingly loyal core of fans.

So the comic’s sales had still ranked slightly above those of *The Dwarf Xue San* and Fan Li.

The characteristics of *The Blind Man Bei* were probably related to A’Qiu’s own family history.

Her father had died in the line of duty, killed by a criminal.

Three paintings hung on each of the two side walls of the living room.

A single painting hung alone on the wall directly opposite the entrance.

After looking over the protagonists of their own comics, everyone gathered before that final portrait almost by tacit agreement.

The painting showed an infant.

Its entire tiny body radiated hostility and murderous flame.

This was Boss’s comic.

*Demon Pill*.

Its central character was a baby.

Whether in plot or artwork, the series had been nearly flawless.

Through the pure essence of horror and distortion, it attracted a large audience back then.

Even Deng Ge’s *The Vampire A’Ming* had been suppressed beneath *Demon Pill* in popularity.

“Demon Pill. Stubborn, just like Boss,” Deng Ge said with some emotion.

He believed he himself was talented.

At the same time, he also believed Boss was even more talented.

Unfortunately, Boss was stubborn.

Exactly like the character he had created.

Obviously, if he changed just a little, adapted just a little, he could have developed much farther.

But Boss insisted on charging ahead with his skull as hard as iron.

Resentment?

Not really.

After all, one could say everyone else had strayed from the original path.

Only Boss had continued guarding the thing he believed in.

More than anything, they probably admired him for it.

“Where is Boss?” Qin Siyu asked.

There was no doubt the seven portraits in the living room had been painted by Boss.

But where was the Boss who had invited everyone to gather again after three years?

Xu Qiang pushed open the bedroom door on one side and found the light on inside.

There was no bedsheet on the bed.

Instead, all of their comic series had been stacked neatly across it.

Some had been formally published.

Others could not be published and had been printed privately instead, technically making them illegal publications.

The bed held the accumulated memories of the studio’s five years of existence:

*The Vampire A’Ming*,

*The Woodcutter*,

*The Dwarf Xue San*,

and the others.

Even after the studio dissolved, everyone periodically received new digital drafts from Boss by email.

Boss had quietly continued drawing the later stories of all their characters.

A thick stack of comics also sat beneath the bed.

Everyone walked over and pulled them out.

Most were similar in style to the comic about the two women talking on the phone.

Boss had continued holding to the studio’s original direction.

But Boss clearly needed money too.

So he had drawn a fair number of more marketable works for cash.

After seeing them, Deng Ge frowned even more deeply.

He was somewhat dissatisfied.

Originally, he had believed Boss was still holding firmly to his principles, refusing to abandon his original heart even if it meant remaining poor and obscure.

But since Boss was already drawing these kinds of works for money, that proved he had loosened up.

If so, why had Boss not come to him?

Was it embarrassment?

If that was truly what Boss thought, then Deng Ge felt it sullied the friendship they had shared for more than five years.

At that moment, Deng Ge’s phone rang.

The WeChat account labeled “Boss” had sent him a video.

“A message from Boss?” Qin Siyu asked.

Deng Ge nodded and raised his phone.

Everyone gathered behind him.

They genuinely cared about how Boss was doing now.

They were also curious why Boss had summoned them all here.

At first, the video showed only a chair.

The image shook slightly.

Boss was probably adjusting the phone camera.

Soon, a figure appeared from behind the camera and slowly walked toward the chair.

The person wore a dark-red hoodie.

His steps were slow.

Walking seemed difficult.

When the figure reached the chair, turned, and faced the camera, Deng Ge and everyone behind him froze in shock.

“Long time no see... everyone.”

The person in the video truly was Boss.

There was no mistaking him.

What none of them could believe was what Boss now looked like.

His face had wasted inward until the cheeks were hollow.

The arms showing beyond his sleeves were nothing but skin wrapped around bone, and they trembled so visibly that the spasms could be seen even through the video.

“What happened to Boss?!” Deng Ge cried.

Three years ago, when they had gone their separate ways, Boss had merely looked somewhat unhealthy from sitting over a drawing desk for too many hours.

For modern people, that was hardly unusual.

But now, Boss looked almost like a walking skeleton.

Was he sick?

The purest relationships were the ones most worth remembering.

Whatever success or failure each of them had experienced since then, none of it could erase the bond created during those five years when they had found kindred spirits in one another.

“Deng Ge, are you still angry with me?”

Zheng Fan’s voice was already hoarse.

Every word seemed to grind out like two rusted gears scraping against each other.

“I’m sorry...”

His voice was extremely weak.

Deng Ge clenched his teeth.

“Deng Ge, forgive me for not listening to your suggestion back then. Otherwise, maybe everyone wouldn’t have split up. Maybe the studio would still be here.”

“We’re all doing pretty well now,” Deng Ge murmured to himself.

“I didn’t want to change. Some things, some tastes... once you like them, you just want to keep liking them wholeheartedly. I didn’t want to change, and I was too lazy to change.”

“Because I was never going to live much longer anyway.”

“So, Deng Ge... everyone... please forgive me. Please forgive my selfishness.”

Zheng Fan seemed to want to stand and bow in apology.

But he had barely risen before his strength failed and he fell back into the chair.

In the end, he could only lower his head while sitting.

“Five years ago, I was diagnosed with a rare terminal disease. Worldwide, there may only be a little over a hundred people with it. Medicine has no cure. So even back then... I already knew... I wouldn’t live much longer.”

At that point, Zheng Fan gave a self-mocking laugh.

It immediately turned into a fit of coughing.

Each cough looked almost severe enough to make him black out.

“Sorry. To make money, I drew some comics that weren’t really my style. Actually, it felt pretty good.”

“I liked those comics too. They just weren’t the style and genre I loved most.”

“But once I realized my physical condition was continuing to deteriorate, and I could already foresee the ending where I became paralyzed in a hospital bed and dragged out my final days, I decided to go to the Netherlands for euthanasia.”

“I drew those comics to raise the money needed to travel to the Netherlands and undergo euthanasia.”

“By the time you see this video, I should already be in the Netherlands. Hehe.”

“Siyu, take better care of your body. Your constitution really is too weak. Heh... though I suppose I’m not qualified to criticize anyone else’s health anymore.”

“Siyao, don’t set your standards quite so high. It’s about time you found someone. Mm. Just don’t choose Deng Ge.”

“...” Deng Ge.

“Brother Qiang, I never forgot the taste of that last bowl of noodles you made for me the day you left.”

“Deng Ge, I watched your movies. You did very well. The visuals are excellent. Truly excellent. A pity our old works probably won’t ever get comic-to-screen adaptations. They’ll never make it onto a screen.”

“A’Qiu, you should learn to let go of what happened to Liang Cheng too.”

“Oh, right. A’Qiu, there’s a will I left in the desk drawer. I had the inheritance documents notarized as well.”

“I don’t have much money left. Only this apartment.”

“I know you’ve been doing charity ever since Liang Cheng died. Sell the apartment for me and donate the money.”

“I drew demons for so many years. At the end, I should leave something behind.”

“That’s why I never sold my only apartment to raise money for the Netherlands.”

“My body really can’t continue anymore. Honestly, I don’t want the final stretch of my life to be spent lying in a hospital bed.”

“So today is the day I chose to say goodbye.”

“I’m really happy.”

“So happy I got to see all of you one more time.”

“I’m happy I had all of you beside me during those five years.”

“I’m happy we created so many wonderful stories and characters together.”

“I’ll miss you.”

“I wish all of you success in your careers and good health.”

...

Inside a hospital room, Zheng Fan sat beside the bed.

His gaze slowly swept over the seven comic books arranged around it.

*Demon Pill*.

*The Woodcutter*.

*The Vampire A’Ming*.

*The Blind Man Bei*.

*Feng Siniang*.

*The Dwarf Xue San*.

*Zombie Blood*.

When a person’s life was nearing its end, one of the things he most liked doing was looking back.

Like an old man in his final years lying in a reclining chair beneath the sun, eyes half closed.

“Begin.”

Zheng Fan spoke to the doctor and two nurses standing before him.

Then he lay down on the bed himself.

The bed surrounded on every side by comics.

“Mr. Zheng, are you certain you do not want a priest present?” Out of professional responsibility, the doctor, David, asked one final time. Then he added, “He can help your soul find peace in Heaven.”

Zheng Fan calmly shook his head.

“David, I believe in demons. I’m not going to Heaven.”

David shrugged and nodded, signaling for his assistants to begin.

Zheng Fan slowly closed his eyes.

He felt the cold prick of a needle entering his arm.

Hoo...

So it’s ending...

[End of Chapter 2]