Art Corridor

Chapter 28

Zhou Xiangzhe stressed it over and over, but when he still couldn’t stop Shen Wang from wanting to bite, he just gave in and went along with it.

He could never say no to Shen Wang.

In the end, all he could ask was, 'Finished the candy?'

Shen Wang shook his head. 'No, there’s still one left.'

When he heard there was still one candy left, Zhou Xiangzhe quietly breathed a sigh of relief. It was as if that last piece proved Shen Wang was still fine—and wouldn’t try biting any contaminants again. So he relaxed and turned to look at the new painting on the wall.

Shen Wang leaned against the gallery wall and watched Zhou Xiangzhe’s back. In his dark pupils, Zhou Xiangzhe’s silhouette was reflected, as if completely framed inside his eyes.

Yes, Shen Wang still had that one piece of candy uneaten.

Controlling his appetite was already hard enough. That candy wouldn’t even dent his hunger—he’d probably crunch it up and swallow it the second it went into his mouth.

But that wasn’t why he stopped eating it. After all, he was about as selfish as they came—why would he ever deprive himself for someone else’s sake?

Shen Wang just had a little theory—one that might make a lot of people’s jaws drop, and maybe even shocked himself.

But Shen Wang still believed people should dare to guess boldly.

After all, not everyone would put up with him biting people out of nowhere—and when he’s hungry enough to want to eat a Contaminant, their first reaction is ‘contaminants aren’t sanitary,’ not ‘are you insane?’

And not everyone would be unfazed after getting bitten, or just let it slide after being denied several times. This is the post-apocalypse, not the old world—there’s no such thing as a stranger that nice.

Zhou Xiangzhe didn’t get to where he is by being blind. Shen Wang didn’t believe he’d ignore a teammate’s weird behavior just because he ‘trusted them.’

That’s not trust, that’s stupidity.

Of course, Shen Wang didn’t bring this up with him right now. They were still inside Hundred Eyes’ Art Gallery, after all.

Zhou Xiangzhe stood before the wall, staring at the painting that had just appeared.

Painting number 2 was completely different from the first. Not just in style—the entire technique was drastically different.

If the first painting leaned toward realistic and eerie, the second was outright inspirational. Seeing motivational art in a Contaminant’s nest carried a subtle, unsettling vibe.

‘A slightly more complicated stick figure,’ Zhou Xiangzhe said. ‘Can one person’s art style really change this much?’

Shen Wang walked over and stood beside Zhou Xiangzhe to look at the painting.

The white paper showed a giant birdcage divided into three tiers, each one studded with tiny birdcages. A beautiful mother crouched over a cage that barely reached half her height, her dark eyes staring intently inside.

Inside the cage, a girl with an indistinct face sat on the ground, surrounded by drawing paper and brushes. Under the woman’s gaze, she held up a piece of paper, which glowed with golden light.

This painting was titled ‘Youth,’ signed: Hundred Eyes.

Even though they couldn’t paint, it was hard to find any similarities between the two. They looked like works by totally different people.

‘A childhood painting versus an adult one?’ Zhou Xiangzhe could only guess.

‘Hundred Eyes’ Contamination Talent is Painting Comes True. Maybe when she paints her past and uses her talent, the painting reverts to her skill level from back then?’

Shen Wang smiled. ‘Guess bolder. I suspect Hundred Eyes has multiple personalities.’

‘She’s crazy anyway. These two paintings were done by different personalities.’

Zhou Xiangzhe: ...

That was indeed a bold guess.

‘Anyway, there’s still one painting left. Guessing here won’t help.’ Zhou Xiangzhe looked toward the last one.

‘Let’s see what’s inside this painting.’

They entered the last painting. Zhou Xiangzhe wasn’t exactly nervous, but he wasn’t relaxed either. After getting separated from Shen Wang last time, he worried they’d be split up again.

Sure enough, once he confirmed they were somewhere else, Zhou Xiangzhe realized Shen Wang was gone.

He habitually scanned his surroundings, only to find the place extremely strange.

He seemed to be standing in some kind of hollow space. It was tiny, like an upright coffin—he couldn’t even stretch out his arms.

All around him was the cold feel of glass panes. Zhou Xiangzhe felt his way around but found no gap. He frowned slightly, and just then, a light suddenly blazed before his eyes.

‘Welcome to the exhibition of Ms. Hundred Eyes’ works!’

A man’s voice, shrill and high-pitched, stirred up a round of shrieking. It was as if this wasn’t an elegant art exhibition but a live concert.

Zhou Xiangzhe reached out and touched the cold transparent wall in front of him. As the grayish light settled, he gradually made out the scene: a resplendent circular pavilion, and on the opposite wall hung hazy, indistinct paintings.

He realized his perspective was off.

It didn’t feel like he was standing on the ground; more like he was suspended in midair.

A stranger sauntered over, wearing an exaggerated tailcoat, a magician’s hat, and sporting two glued-on little mustaches.

It locked eyes with Zhou Xiangzhe. The glass-ball-like eyeballs in its sockets rolled.

No, they actually were glass balls.

Zhou Xiangzhe had never thought a person’s eyes could be as crystalline and pupil-less as a doll’s.

‘Wow! What a perfect piece! As expected of Hundred Eyes—how could anyone produce such a magnificent painting!’

The stranger directed this praise at Zhou Xiangzhe, but Zhou Xiangzhe felt the guy couldn’t actually see him. Those weren’t eyes in his head.

‘I really want to own it!’

‘How much would it cost to buy this painting?’

It prattled on, endlessly praising Hundred Eyes and the artwork.

And in the reflection of those glass eyes, Zhou Xiangzhe finally saw his own state—or rather, not his state, but where he was.

It was a painting. The image was unclear, just a grey blurry canvas framed inside a glass frame. Zhou Xiangzhe waved his hand, but the person outside ignored it.

He seemed to be… inside an exhibited painting?

‘Trapped?’ Zhou Xiangzhe pressed his hand against the transparent wall. ‘A Grade A Contaminant can do this?’

His golden eyes turned icy. Sensing something off, he immediately removed his black gloves and pressed a fingertip to the surface, sliding it slowly to the left. He withdrew his hand—it was hard to crouch in here, the space was far too cramped.

‘…Confirmed, spatial type. Not Hundred Eyes’ Contamination Talent.’

'This level of spatial Isolation Barrier, Xu Yue?'

‘Isn’t he dead?’

/

This painting was different from the previous ones, because Shen Wang wasn’t indoors—he was outside.

There was no wind, no temperature. Shen Wang exhaled, narrowing his eyes slightly, and looked up at the gloomy sky.

Turning around, he saw an art gallery.

This gallery looked familiar—Shen Wang had seen it before, back at the start. The Hall of Art, standing among the ruins after the apocalypse: gleaming tiles, pure white sculptures, green ivy creeping up the walls, tender yellow blossoms beaded with dew.

But unlike when they arrived before, this time a great many people stood in front of the gallery.

They formed a long line, each one silently waiting with head bowed. At the gallery entrance stood two people wearing stiff, mechanical smiles, their eyes like two glass balls, completely lifeless.

Shen Wang walked along the line, studying their faces as he went.

After a while, he stopped—he recognized the person in front of him.

Or maybe he didn’t really know him; this was one of the people from the Anti-Contamination Center’s action team for this mission.

His surname was Wang, a captain of one of the dispatched squads. Zhou Xiangzhe had even introduced him to Shen Wang before they set out.

Now, Captain Wang stood quietly in the long line, head lowered. His eye sockets were a bloody mess—his eyes had long been gone. Any consciousness he had was also missing; who knew which painting Hundred Eyes had used to control him with Contamination.

Seeing him, Shen Wang’s gut sank. He quickly scanned the rest of the line and sure enough, at least ten of them were people he vaguely remembered.

The casualty count was honestly a bit much.

Ding-dong.

Just then, Shen Wang heard a bell ring. The instant it sounded, everyone in the long line raised their heads in unison.

Countless people with eyeless faces turned toward the gallery door before them.

The two rigid contaminants at the front finally spoke.

‘Welcome to the Hall of Art. This is painter Hundred Eyes’ solo exhibition.’

‘Ms. Hundred Eyes has decided to offer free admission as a gesture of gratitude! So that all may be edified by the arts!’

‘Those who wish to enter the exhibition and admire the works, come present your membership certificate to me, and you may go in.’

As soon as he finished, the person at the very front stepped forward and handed something to the two figures. A closer look—it was a pair of eyes.

He placed his eyes into a box beside them. The eyeballs landed without a sound, but a smear of sticky blood coated the surface.

Satisfied, the two let him into the gallery.

‘Next,’ they called out.

Shen Wang raised an eyebrow. The membership certificate was eyes?

But he had to go in. He’d tried—it was like a game world here; you hit the boundary and couldn’t move. The only place you could enter was this gallery. And Zhou Xiangzhe was gone. Shen Wang had searched around and couldn’t find him, so he had to conclude the painting had respawned him inside the gallery.

Shen Wang stood there and watched for a moment, then confirmed: everyone handed over eyes. Almost certainly their own.

Only by handing over eyes could you enter the gallery.

In the end, Shen Wang went to the back and queued up. The victims turned in their eyes quickly—they had already gouged them out. When their turn came, they just tossed them in. The whole line was nearly finished in ten minutes, and soon only Shen Wang remained.

The two rigid figures smiled at Shen Wang.

‘Please present your membership certificate, guest.’

‘I’ll hand it over.’ Shen Wang looked at them. ‘Give me a few seconds.’

‘Guest—’

His voice cut off as a section of thorn vine pierced through his body. His eyes went wide, and for a moment, the stiff, uncanny thing actually showed an expression—even the lowest Contaminant could sense danger and fear death. Finally, his whole body withered, and two glass eyeballs rolled out of his sockets with a gurgle.

The thorns scooped up the two eyeballs and held them in the air. Shen Wang directed them to drop the eyes into the box.

The membership certificate was eyes, but nobody said whose eyes.

Were Contaminant eyes not eyes?

‘Well?’ Shen Wang’s pupils had turned red. He smiled at the one still standing there—a smile that somehow carried a heavy threat.

‘Is this a membership certificate?’

The remaining Contaminant smiled stiffly. It glanced at the eyeballs in the box, then back at Shen Wang.

‘Welcome, guest. Please enter the gallery.’

‘Smart move.’

Shen Wang retracted his thorns, turned, and entered the gallery.

Once sure Shen Wang had gone in, the Contaminant at the door immediately reported to the exhibition hall: ‘Security, be advised, someone submitted a false—’

Thwack. The Contaminant’s eyes widened, and it looked down to see a thorn vine piercing its heart.

The hungry little thorns gulped down its blood in big mouthfuls.

‘Tastes bad, wuwu!’

‘Hungry, eat eat, can’t be picky!’

‘Wuwu, Master, it doesn’t taste good!’

‘Hungry, wanna gnaw on the yummy big deer!’

Shen Wang knew perfectly well this low-level Contaminant tasted awful, but there wasn’t anything good to eat right now. Except for Zhou Xiangzhe—and he couldn’t eat him.

Besides, even if he was in Grade A Contaminant territory, he wasn’t sure he could take down Hundred Eyes alone. The safest bet was still letting Zhou Xiangzhe deal with Hundred Eyes, then he could just clean up the leftovers.

Feeling the emptiness in his stomach barely staved off, Shen Wang finally let out a breath and entered the gallery.

He walked while taking everything in, mentally comparing this gallery to what it looked like when they first entered.

When they first came in, it was a long corridor, both sides hung with paintings. Each was a bizarre portrait, every face covered in eyes. But this time, he didn’t see one long corridor—instead, it was a winding, circular hallway.

The circular hallway had paintings scattered here and there, each a hazy gray with no visible image. The people who had entered earlier wandered around, and eventually, each chose a painting to stand before.

They stood there silently, heads bowed, like statues. But Shen Wang noticed that the gray paintings in front of them gradually began to show lines.

The victims spoke.

‘The great painter Hundred Eyes is painting our portraits.’

‘We are so, so honored!’

‘Can we really possess such perfect works of art?’

‘What a precious gift!’

Their faces turned ecstatic. Even without eyes, Shen Wang could feel their intense excitement.

They raised their hands and placed them on the frames. At that moment, the lines appeared faster and faster, finally forming their portraits on the wall. Once the portraits were complete, numerous gashes split open on their exposed skin, and from each gash, an eye emerged.

As if they were covered in festering sores.

At the same time, cracks appeared on their portraits. Eyes crawled out of the split seams, rolling around inside the painting as well.

This reminded Shen Wang of the exhibits he’d first seen in the gallery.

A huge number of eyes is seriously a sanity-dropping thing.

‘Using human eyes as tickets, then turning people into portraits—this Contaminant is pretty creative.’

Shen Wang turned to look beside him.

The man had dark green hair. Unlike the surrounding victims, he still had his own eyes, though his irises were an eerie, pale white. He stood quietly before a painting, his eyes showing no shock or fear—almost detached, neither sad nor happy.

Only the baggy sack-like clothes he wore and the book in his arms told Shen Wang that this damn well had to be someone he knew.

‘Lan?!'

‘Call me gege,’ Lan made a shushing gesture at Shen Wang. ‘A few days gone, and little brother is still so cute.’

‘That’s not the point—the point is your appearance…’

Lan turned to look at him, his pale eyes as gloomy as ever.

‘Just using another talent, that’s all. Different talents can cause a slight difference in appearance. It’s very useful for disguises.’

Fine. Shen Wang knew about it—after all, his own appearance changed when he used the blood-thorn talent.

But…

Shen Wang asked again: ‘A few days gone?’

‘Five days,’ Lan held up a hand. ‘High-level Contaminant lairs always have time differences. No one can explain why—it’s just a characteristic of high-level Contaminants.’

‘So you came looking for me?’

'My cute little brother going missing naturally worries me, but you're with a Grade S Mutant, so you don't need to worry about safety.' Lan opened his book, staring at the blank pages and pondering. 'I also foresaw this, so I wasn't that worried.'

‘I’m here mainly because of the Science Academy.’

Shen Wang recalled he was a key target for the Science Academy—even that unlucky Researcher who fled into Hundred Eyes’ territory had done so to escape from him.

So Lan was here to exterminate, continuing his pursuit against the Science Academy.

‘The Science Academy has some data in their possession. Data that really shouldn’t be in their hands. I’ve been chasing them for a long time just to destroy it.’

Lan said, ‘If the Science Academy is willing to send Zhou Xiangzhe just to recover that information, it means there’s definitely something inside I want.’

He closed the book and looked at Shen Wang. ‘Speaking of which—are you having an episode?’

Shen Wang frowned at him. ‘You’re just now seeing it?’

‘Perfect. There’s a Grade A Contaminant right here.’ Lan looked at Shen Wang with a gentle, affectionate expression, but the words he spoke were exceptionally brutal and matter-of-fact.

‘There’s a ready-made talent right here, waiting for you to take it.’