Scarlet Descent

Crash—

When Ye Feifei flipped through the window, the mine worker snapped to attention. He clearly hadn’t expected the police to arrive so quickly, nor could he fathom why the “god” in his mind hadn’t warned him as before. But he reacted swiftly, hurling the milk bottle aside and grabbing a silver spike beside him, pressing it against the infant’s chest.

“How did you get here so fast?”

“Don’t shoot, or I’ll stab him right now!”

“…”

“Don’t move! Stay calm…”

Ye Feifei was startled but quickly pivoted, aiming her gun at the worker.

“Drop the spike. Don’t hurt the child…”

“…”

“You don’t move!”

The young mine worker snarled, his voice icy. The spike in his hand dug into the infant’s chest, dimpling the fabric. He crouched against the wall, minimizing his profile, and raised the baby to shield half his face—a desperate bid to block a potential headshot.

“I was about to be with her…”

His voice twisted with rage and resentment. “Why did you have to come now?”

“…”

“Stay calm. Don’t act rashly…”

Seeing the worker’s agitation, Ye Feifei steadied her breath. Trained to de-escalate, she lowered her gun, hooking it on her thumb, and spoke softly: “It’s not too late. Hand over the baby. Come with us before this becomes irreversible…”

“It’s already too late…”

The worker’s eyes, peering over the swaddled infant, burned with fury and despair. He glanced at the wedding-dressed corpse on the sofa behind Ye Feifei, panting hoarsely: “She’s dead. I wanted to kill myself… but the god heard my prayers. He gave me a trial, a chance to be with her…”

“I prepared everything—to bring her back from death, to leave this place with her…”

“But you… why did you come so soon?”

“…”

His grip tightened on the spike, veins bulging on his hand.

“Wait—!”

Ye Feifei shouted, fighting to keep her voice even. She glanced at the corpse’s ashen face and asked, “What… what was your relationship with her?”

She recalled the news about the bride’s funeral. The reports mentioned her fiancé. So why this stranger’s obsession?

“No…”

The question seemed to strike a nerve. The worker lifted his head, almost proudly: “She didn’t know me.”

“What…?”

Ye Feifei froze, unprepared for this answer.

“How could I know her?”

The worker’s expression softened, a perverse pride swelling. “She was beautiful… noble. When she was alive, I never spoke to her. I didn’t dare get close—afraid she’d smell my sweat, afraid she’d look at me with disgust…”

“I knew… She belonged to higher people, the wealthy.”

“But now she’s dead. Those rich bastards dumped her in a grave with just a dress and flowers.”

“So now… isn’t it my turn?”

“If I wasn’t worthy of her alive… am I not worthy of her in death?”

“Only I will treat her right now…”

“…”

His words shattered Ye Feifei’s understanding. She’d never imagined the stolen corpse here, nor that this man’s madness stemmed from an obsession with the tragic bride. His logic—too afraid to approach her in life, yet claiming her in death—left her questioning where such deranged devotion came from.

The worker didn’t care if Ye Feifei understood. His pride swelled as he spoke, fueling his resolve. He inhaled sharply, pressing the spike closer.

“She’ll thank me…”

“The god promised in my dreams—if I obey, he’ll bring her back…”

“Then we’ll be together… forever…”

“Now… it’s time…”

“…”

“Stop! Stop!”

Ye Feifei’s mind reeled. This defied all training. She tightened her grip on the gun but hesitated—no clean shot with the baby as a shield; a body hit might still harm the infant.

“How touching…”

A muffled voice echoed, startling both. It seemed to resonate through the walls, directionless. The worker flinched, eyes darting.

“You felt unworthy alive… yet claim her corpse?”

Outside, Wei Wei pressed his gun to the cement wall, adjusting his aim.

“Your ‘love’ is moving… but you forgot one thing, brother.”

His voice pierced the room—deliberate and cold. The worker’s attention flickered—

Bang!

A bullet tore through the wall, its force dampened but still punching into the worker’s skull. He stiffened, eyes flooding red.

Ye Feifei lunged, catching the slipping infant and rolling clear.

…

“Unrequited obsession isn’t love, brother…”

Wei Wei strode in, gun loose in his hand, addressing the dead man’s glazed eyes.

“Xiao Wei!”

Ye Feifei cradled the baby, relief and gratitude in her gaze.

“Support his head. Let him suck something—he’ll stop crying.”

Wei Wei glanced at her, then surveyed the room. “Stay alert. It’s not over.”

“Not over?”

Ye Feifei blinked, the baby quieting on her finger. The worker was dead. What else—?

Giggle…

A shrill, icy laugh cut through the silence. Ye Feifei turned. The corpse on the sofa—pale, rigid—now wore a widening grin.

“Xiao Wei…”

She trembled, seeking reassurance. But Wei Wei was smiling too—wider, darker.