Chapter 1: Heirlooms and Images

The weekend before Qingming Festival was shrouded in relentless rain. Raindrops tapped incessantly against Li Ran's windowpane, as if impatiently urging him to fulfill a long-postponed obligation.

His return to his ancestral home had a straightforward purpose: to sort through his late father's belongings, deciding what to keep and what to discard.

Li Ran's father had passed away suddenly from a heart attack six months prior, leaving no time to articulate any final wishes. Since then, Li Ran had been reluctant to return to the old house with its gray tiles and damp, musty walls. Childhood memories associated with the place were far from pleasant. His father had been a man of few words, perpetually engrossed in work, while his mother's stern demeanor left little room for warmth. Laughter was a rare commodity in the household, and even festive occasions felt subdued.

But today, he had no choice.

Holding an umbrella, Li Ran stepped through the weathered iron gate. The familiar creak of the hinges seemed to echo his father's coughs. The house remained as dim as he remembered, the air thick with the scent of aged paper, old wooden furniture, and damp walls.

He began with his father's study.

The antique bookshelf was crammed with yellowed documents and old books. Li Ran flipped through them mechanically, tossing a stack of moldy files into a cardboard box. Drowsiness began to set in until he discovered a blackened leather suitcase at the bottom of the bookshelf.

The suitcase was unlocked. Upon opening it, a musty odor assaulted his senses.

Inside, there were no valuables—just a pile of yellowed photographs, several tattered notebooks, and an old-fashioned photo album. Li Ran carefully opened the first page of the album.

He was immediately taken aback.

It was a family portrait from his childhood—himself, his father, his mother, and an unfamiliar middle-aged man.

The man stood at the edge, dressed in a dark suit, his posture stiff. But what was most unsettling was his face. It was obscured by a strange blur, as if someone had deliberately smudged it during the photo development process. Yet, the rest of the photo remained crisp and clear.

Frowning, Li Ran continued to flip through the album.

The second photo depicted a company annual meeting—his father's colleagues lined up for a group shot. The same unfamiliar man appeared again, his face still blurred. The third photo was from Li Ran's full-month celebration; the man stood behind his mother, his indistinct face seemingly gazing directly at the camera.

As he examined more photos, Li Ran's hands began to tremble.

These photographs spanned over two decades, and nearly every group photo included this man with the obscured face. He had never heard of this person, nor did he recall any mention of him during family gatherings or conversations.

Who was this man? Why did he appear in all their group photos?

Clutching the album, Li Ran walked into the living room. His mother sat in the corner, holding a teacup, her gaze vacant as she watched the rain outside.

"Mom," Li Ran tried to keep his tone calm, "I found this while sorting through Dad's things."

His mother's eyes flicked to the album's cover, and her face instantly paled. She reached out to snatch the album, but Li Ran had already opened it to the first family portrait.

"Who is this man?" he asked, pointing to the blurred figure.

Her hand froze mid-air, her complexion turning from pale to ashen. Her lips quivered, but no words came out.

"You know him, don't you?" Li Ran's voice lowered, his gaze fixed intently on her.

She clenched her teeth, and after a few seconds, her voice hoarse, she whispered, "Don't ask. It's... a curse."

"A curse?" Li Ran scoffed, finding the notion absurd. "Mom, it's the 21st century. You expect me to believe in such things?"

Her eyes remained hollow yet resolute. "You don't understand... He's not human."

The atmosphere grew heavy. Li Ran stood there, feeling the light around him dim. He scrutinized his mother's face, searching for any hint of jest, but her expression was deadly serious.

"He has no name," she murmured. "Don't mention him, don't acknowledge him. He will return... Each time someone recognizes him, he gets closer."

A chill ran down Li Ran's spine.

Suddenly, his mother sprang up, snatched the album, and began tearing out the pages. "It can't stay. It must not stay!"

"Mom!" Li Ran tried to stop her, but it was too late.

The yellowed photographs were ripped in half, fluttering through the dim living room like shattered paper butterflies. Li Ran watched her bloodshot eyes and frantic movements, momentarily speechless.

That night, the rain finally ceased.

Li Ran decided to spend the night in the old house. After washing up, he lay on the same wooden bed from his childhood, but his mind was preoccupied with the image of the faceless man.

Growing increasingly uneasy, he got up, retrieved a few photos that hadn't been completely destroyed from the trash bin, and hid them in his backpack. He told himself that his mother's behavior was too erratic, perhaps linked to his father's sudden death or a mental issue. He needed to uncover the truth himself.

The night deepened, and the clock on the wall pointed to 3 a.m. Li Ran finally felt a hint of drowsiness and closed his eyes, drifting into sleep.

In his dream, he found himself standing in a long, dark corridor. The surroundings were pitch black, except for a faint light ahead. He walked toward it and discovered the light source was a mirror.

In front of the mirror stood a man in a dark suit, his back facing Li Ran.

The man slowly raised his hands to his face.

Inch by inch, he began peeling off his skin from the forehead, as if removing a thick layer of greasepaint. His facial features twisted and dissolved in the mirror, eventually becoming a blurred shadow.

Suddenly, the man stopped, as if sensing Li Ran's presence.

He turned around—

But the mirror reflected nothing. Only Li Ran himself, staring blankly at his own face, which had begun to blur.

Li Ran jolted awake, his back drenched in sweat, his heart pounding like a drum. He leaped out of bed, rushed to the bathroom, and stared into the mirror, confirming that his facial features were still intact.

His breathing gradually steadied, but the terror lingered. As he turned to return to his room, he noticed something at the doorway.

A photograph, clean and intact, untouched by the earlier destruction.

It was a group photo taken in front of the old house—himself, his father, his mother, and the man standing at the edge.

In the photo, Li Ran's face had begun to blur.