Doll Survival Game - Chapter 60 - The Kind-Hearted Demon

“Bang!”

The door was suddenly flung open with a loud crash. Xia Lang jolted, whipping his head around-

“You little brat, get out here!” A man in a yellowed undershirt staggered in the doorway. His face was flushed red, and the overwhelming stench of alcohol clung to him. He was so drunk that his words came out slurred and broken. “Go… go boil some peanuts for me!”

Xia Lang stood up and began walking toward the door, his movements slow. It wasn’t just the pain from his injuries; it was also because when his father was drunk, his blows landed without restraint.

Tasting the faint metallic tang of blood in his mouth, Xia Lang approached the man.

The man loomed over him, his murky eyes shifting as they focused on the boy’s face. For a moment, he seemed to sober up slightly. “Why aren’t you smiling?”

The boy froze.

The man grabbed a fistful of his hair. Years of smoking and drinking had stained his teeth a sickly yellow. His mouth opened wide as he barked, his tone full of displeasure. “What’s with that look? Are you unhappy?”

Xia Lang instinctively tilted his head back, but then he abruptly stopped himself-too late.

Sure enough, the man’s expression darkened immediately. He tightened his grip on the boy’s messy hair.

“Not happy, huh?” The man bent down, his face inches from Xia Lang’s. He stared at the child’s innocent features. “You’ve got no right to be unhappy. I’m the one feeding you… taking care of you. Am I not treating you well? I put food on your plate, clothes on your back, and send you to school. And this is how you look at me?!”

“Huh?! Answer me! What’s that look supposed to mean?” he roared. Xia Lang, as always, stayed silent. But this time, the man was furious. He yanked the boy’s head and slammed it against the wall. “Forgotten, have you? Nobody else wants you. I’m the only one keeping you alive!”

“Remember this: once you’re done with that useless elementary school, you’re going to work and pay me back!”

The rough scrape of his eye against the wall brought tears to Xia Lang’s eyes, but he didn’t make a sound.

“…No fun.” The man let go of him. “Hurry up and boil those peanuts!”

A bruise was already forming on his head, and the corner of his eye was scraped raw.

Xia Lang stared at the shadow his father cast on the ground. It swayed unsteadily, its jagged edges clawing at the floor like a fierce ghost.

And fierce ghosts… were evil.

Pain blurred his senses. The world before him flickered like an old black-and-white TV with a broken signal, alternating between light and dark.

Unconsciously, Xia Lang stepped forward, his foot landing squarely on his father’s shadow. But soon, the shadow moved out from under him.

The boy lifted his head and watched as the man walked toward the well. The man peered down into it for a moment before turning back. “Brat, after you’re done with the peanuts, haul up the watermelon for me!”

Xia Lang’s eyes widened slightly, and he nodded. Then he rolled up his sleeve and wiped the blood from his face. “Okay.”

Watermelon. He wanted some too.

But his father would probably only give him a small piece.

Xia Lang walked into the kitchen. He deftly picked up a bundle of dry corn stalks, snapping them into pieces. The splinters caught fire, and Xia Lang stared at the flames for a moment before struggling to lift the heavy iron pot onto the stove.

He poured in water, added the peanuts, and sprinkled in some salt.

Xia Lang moved with the practiced ease of someone far older than his years.

The water in the pot began to bubble and boil. Xia Lang stayed behind the kitchen door, peering through the cracks in the wooden panels at the man outside, who sat in the doorway with a fan blowing on him.

One bottle of beer after another disappeared down the man’s throat. The sound of the television drifted into the kitchen. Xia Lang’s gaze was fixed intently on the man, who alternated between drinking and picking at cold dishes.

What he didn’t notice was the red-eyed crow perched on the roof above, its unblinking gaze locked on him.

The kitchen floor was made of packed dirt, and the roof was covered with tiles. When it rained, water would leak through the damaged spots. Yet, when steam rose continuously from the pot, the heat lingered stubbornly, making the entire kitchen stiflingly hot. Especially in the summer, the oppressive heat felt even more unbearable.

Xia Lang, his head pounding and vision blurred, extinguished the fire and scooped out the peanuts.

As he transferred the peanuts to a bowl, his gaze kept drifting to the wall where a fruit knife and a cleaver were hanging.

Distracted, Xia Lang moved slower than usual. When he finally brought the peanuts out, he was met with a sharp slap across the face.

“Stop dawdling!” the man barked.

Xia Lang silently endured the blow.

The man glared at him, his brows furrowed. He cracked open a peanut and sneered, “Ever since you started hanging around that kid-what’s his name? Luo Yiran?-you’ve been looking more and more lifeless. It’s downright depressing to look at you!”

“Why don’t you bring that kid over here sometime? I could teach him a thing or two…”

The familiar name slipping from the lips of the terrifying man made Xia Lang’s head snap up. His messy hair bounced slightly as his wide eyes ignored the pain in his bruised mouth. “Don’t hurt Ran-Ge!”

The words tumbled out instinctively.

The man, like a fierce ghost, darkened his expression. His muddled eyes locked onto Xia Lang as he raised the glass beer bottle in his hand and smashed it onto the ground.

Shards of glass scattered everywhere, and Xia Lang flinched involuntarily.

“Well, well, our Xia Lang is growing up, huh? Knows how to protect his friends now,” the man said mockingly, grabbing another beer bottle and tapping it against the table. “I like your little friend too. All pale and delicate, looks just like a little girl…”

His body swayed unsteadily as he muttered, “Tomorrow, have him stay over at our place for the night.”

“Squawk-”

A piercing cry from a crow outside the house sent a chill down Xia Lang’s spine.

“Bang!”

When no response came, the man smashed the beer bottle against the edge of the table, pointing the jagged remains at Xia Lang. He roared, “Did you hear me?!”

Xia Lang’s gaze drifted to the water well in the yard. His movements stiff and his face blank, he nodded.

The man seemed satisfied. He continued peeling peanuts and gulping down beer. “Then don’t bother me anymore. Go sit somewhere quietly. Around two o’clock, fish out the watermelon from the well and slice it up!”

Xia Lang obediently nodded, looking as if he were the perfect, compliant child, and turned toward the kitchen.

The man glanced at him suspiciously. “Where are you going?”

The boy crossed his arms, his swollen eye making it hard to discern his expression as he tilted his head slightly. “I… haven’t cleaned the kitchen yet.”

The earlier slap still burned on his face, making every word he spoke sting. His voice came out muffled and indistinct.

“Then hurry up! What are you standing around for?!”

Xia Lang quickly turned and darted into the kitchen. His stomach still ached faintly, but he moved swiftly to tidy up. After scrubbing the pot clean, his gaze lingered on the knives hanging on the wall.

He remembered a news story from a few days ago: a newlywed wife had killed her husband and fled. His father had been sitting in a chair, scrolling through his phone, when he came across the uncensored video. Xia Lang, standing behind him, had seen it too.

The video’s quality was poor to begin with, and it had been zoomed in, making it even harder to make out the details. Still, it was clear enough to see someone at the second-floor window, repeatedly stabbing another person with a knife.

The footage was reportedly captured accidentally by someone in a taller building across the street, who only discovered its contents upon reviewing it the next day.

Xia Lang wasn’t interested in the story itself. His focus was entirely on the repetitive motion of the knife-wielding figure, his eyes blinking in confusion.

“These women nowadays are getting more vicious,” his father grumbled, snapping his phone shut. “Not a single decent one among them. If they catch her, they should just execute her right away!”

Xia Lang understood what execution meant. He understood death. It was something that, once experienced, meant a person would cease to exist forever.

The image of the indistinct figure in the video, stabbing over and over again, replayed in his mind. Xia Lang climbed onto a small stool and reached for the kitchen knife. It was heavy, but he was used to it; he often helped with chopping vegetables.

The knife wasn’t easy to use, though. Last time, he’d struggled to cut through ribs.

He stared at the blade for a long time. His father had said that Ran-Ge would come over tomorrow.

Ran-Ge probably didn’t like pain… but if he didn’t call Ran-Ge, his father would hit him again.

But it hurt so much. He didn’t want to be hit anymore.

Xia Lang’s gaze became vacant as he stared at the wall, as though he could see through it to the man beyond.

Suddenly, Xia Lang thought of the shadowy figure he’d just seen-the man’s wild, exaggerated movements. His eyes widened in a flash of realization.

It was a fierce ghost!

His father wasn’t his father. He was a fierce ghost!

Xia Lang had heard from his classmates that fierce ghosts could possess people, kill them, and were very, very bad.

He set the knife down and curled up behind the kitchen door, peeking through the crack at the man who seemed on the verge of drinking himself to death. His gaze was chaotic but gradually brightened. In his eyes, the man no longer looked human. His limbs were pitch-black and grotesquely thick, his hands and feet oversized. His head had elongated, his eyes glowed blood-red, his lips had vanished, and jagged teeth protruded unevenly.

The ghost was drinking red blood, crunching on human fingers with a sickening sound.

Terrifying fierce ghost!

Xia Lang quietly slipped past the ghost, who glanced at him with vacant eyes but didn’t react.

He made his way to the water well outside the house. Grabbing the rope, he gave it a tug. The bucket holding the watermelon shifted slightly, and Xia Lang froze.

He tugged at the rope a few more times, struggling. After a moment, he turned back toward the house, his voice trembling. “Dad! The watermelon-it fell!”

Inside, the ghost’s body jerked. The alcohol had dulled most of his senses, and he staggered out of the house, cursing under his breath. “You little brat… can’t do anything-hic!-can’t do anything right!”

Xia Lang watched the ghost approach him step by step, his pupils trembling strangely, as though filled with both resentment and anticipation.

Meanwhile, on the roof of the house, a crow took two steps forward. Its movement nudged a tiny, broken piece of tile, which began to roll toward the edge of the roof, teetering precariously.

The crow shifted its gaze to the fragment of tile, then let out a sharp “Caw-!”

Thud.

Thud-

The broken tile fell from the roof.

The man fell into the well.

…

“Xia Lang.”

“What are you doing crouching outside my window?”

“Ran-Ge.” Xia Lang huddled beneath the window, clutching his schoolbag tightly. His face was a mix of confusion and fear. “I… I think I did something bad.”

Luo Yiran paused, then leaned over the windowsill. His slightly chubby face broke into an innocent, childlike grin. “Oh? What did you do?”

The earlier rush of emotions had settled, leaving Xia Lang with a belated sense of dread. He imagined himself frozen forever, unable to move, and his hands trembled. On one of them, faint teeth marks were visible-left from anxiously biting down while waiting for Luo Yiran to return that afternoon. “I… my dad fell into the well…”

A buzzing sound filled his ears as he struggled to speak. “I-I didn’t save him…”

Luo Yiran’s smile faltered.

Like a small animal sensing an impending storm, Xia Lang hunched his shoulders slightly. “…Ran-Ge…?”

Luo Yiran stared at Xia Lang for a long moment before his smile returned. “Alright… then, you need to remember something.”

“Remember that he fell in by himself.”

“And remember one more thing.” Luo Yiran’s eyes crinkled as he smiled, his voice soothing, as if he were admiring a flower he had carefully nurtured to bloom. “The teacher asked me to find you, and when I did, I saw you were locked up. So I secretly opened the door and brought you to my house at noon. Can you remember that?”

Xia Lang froze, his eyes widening slowly. Then, large tears began to roll down his cheeks.

He suddenly thought back to the first time he met Luo Yiran. At school, he had been surrounded and beaten by a group of kids. But the moment Luo Yiran walked over, the group scattered like startled birds.

Xia Lang tilted his head upward, gazing at Luo Yiran as though he were looking at a deity-

Luo Yiran must be a demon. A kind, gentle demon who had come to save him.