Never Look Back

Chen Guan did not help him up. He stared at the door at the bottom of the well.

The presence of the Principal seemed to have become some kind of key to a hidden secret.

Inside the door, a figure stood up.

A very small figure.

Wearing a cloak washed white from wear, with seven dark buttons on the front.

He saw it. The child saw it too.

He sat on the ground, frozen, forgetting to move.

The tiny figure at the bottom of the well looked up. Its face was exactly like his.

But in those eyes, there was no hunger, no fear, no longing for home.

The old man knelt down.

His forehead pressed against the ground, his voice dry and hoarse.

“The First Door Bone…”

Chen Guan looked into the well.

So that was it.

This door had, long ago, devoured a Qi Kou.

And so this city, generation after generation, waited for the next Qi Kou to grow into the right kind of bone.

This was the truth of the immortals: countless Qi Kous were born from the mass of human lives. One Qi Kou died, and a new one would emerge.

He was a child who would never grow up.

The small figure at the bottom of the well raised its hand, pointing at the coffin behind Chen Guan.

Then it opened its mouth.

No sound came out.

But Chen Guan understood its lip movement.

“Return home.”

The next moment, the door inside the Bone Well opened completely.

Behind it appeared a vast, boundless snowfield.

At the edge of the snowfield stood a long-robed figure carrying a coffin on his back.

His back was turned to them, and he held the hand of a child.

That child turned its head back and looked at the Qi Kou by the well.

Two Qi Kou children stared at each other across the door.

The child by the well whispered, “Teacher, who is that?”

Before Chen Guan could answer, the long-robed figure behind the door turned around.

His face was hidden in the wind and snow, features unclear.

But his voice pierced through the Bone Well and landed clearly in Chen Guan’s ears.

“The Later One.”

“Do not let him look back again.”

The wind and snow from the Bone Well blew out, and a layer of frost appeared on the sandy ground beside the well. The door was open at the bottom of the well, with the endless snowfield beyond. The Coffin Bearer stood in the wind, holding another Qi Kou by the hand.

Chen Guan’s grip on the child’s collar did not loosen.

The child sat on the ground, face covered in sand, eyes fixed on the tiny figure at the bottom of the well.

The Qi Kou inside the door looked back at him.

Two identical children stared at each other across the Bone Well—one standing in the old city, the other in the wind and snow.

The people of the old city fell silent. Even the tall, thin man forgot to scream.

The old man knelt before the stone platform, forehead pressed to the ground, his shoulders slumping, aged to the point where only a faint breath remained in his bones.

“The First Door Bone,” he repeated.

The child looked down at the seven dark buttons on his chest, then at the figure in the well.

“Teacher, is he me?”

Chen Guan did not answer. This time, it was because he didn’t know what to say.

The red glow at the bottom of the well had not faded. A pale, skeletal hand was wedged at the edge of the door, and wind and snow from the crack passed through the joints, making a faint sound.

That skeletal hand did not climb out any further. It was afraid of the coffin.

The lid of the coffin behind Chen Guan was still open a crack. The aura of the Principal weighed down on the entire old city, and one by one, the door patterns on the walls dimmed, losing their ferocity.

Guan Jinyue stood beside the coffin, her swordpoint hanging at her side. She was close to the coffin—so close she could hear the faint sound of breathing from within.

She looked up at Chen Guan, her expression complicated.

Chen Guan ignored her gaze. Finally organizing his words, he spoke to the child: “He is the first you that was devoured by this door.”

The child understood only half of it. His small face turned pale.

But the crowd by the well stirred at that moment.

A man, face covered in sand, climbed up from the ground. He pointed at the Qi Kou at the bottom of the well and asked hoarsely, “If there’s already one inside, why did you need our children?”

His words awakened many. Immediately others chimed in.

“That’s right. The First Door Bone is still there, so the door should still open.”

“City Lord, have you been lying to us?”

“Where did all the people sent down over the years go?”

Faces appeared from behind doors, from windows, and from under eaves. Just moments ago, they had cried out for the City Lord to open the door. Now they demanded to know why it had been opened.

The old man slowly raised his head. Bone dust fell from the wrinkles on his face, staining his clothes.

“Once the door has eaten the first, it remembers that child,” he said.

As he spoke, the tiny figure at the bottom of the well lowered its head.

“But every time the wind disaster comes, the door demands new bone.”

“Without the next one, the door cannot open. He is like the lamp wick—but without fire, how can it burn?”

The child looked into the well. The small Qi Kou inside did not speak. Snow and wind fell on its shoulders and passed right through, proving it had long lost any weight.

Thanks to Si Tu Ming’s lessons on ancient customs, Chen Guan understood quickly. This city hadn’t just devoured one child. It had taken the first child, turned him into the lamp inside the door, and every Qi Kou after that was oil poured into that lamp.

No wonder the city had to wait again and again for a new Qi Kou.

This door had been farming, raising children. It devoured one, then pressed the person into the city to force the birth of the same fate again.

The Qi Kou of this old city was like a life copied over and over. The more times the paper was stamped, the fainter the ink became—and the more blood was shed.

The old man gripped the edge of the stone platform, nails filled with bone dust.

“Mister, back then you came here to find that character.”

Chen Guan looked at him. The old man coughed heavily, his chest heaving.

“You said the door’s name was missing one character. Without it, ‘return home’ would become ‘return to bone.’”

“You wanted to fill it in, but you couldn’t remember.”

“You sat under the city gate for three days.”

“Then the wind disaster came. The First Door Bone walked into the well on his own.”

The child’s fingers tightened on the sand beneath him. He looked at the version of himself inside the door and asked, “You… you went in yourself?”

The old man did not look at him. He only answered: “Back then, the whole city was about to die.”

Guan Jinyue’s sword lifted half an inch. “So you memorized this method? Grinding away other people’s lives, again and again?”

The old man’s lips trembled. He did not reply.

Chen Guan looked down at the child on the ground.

The child looked back at him, fear and confusion mixed in his eyes—and a glimmer of hope.

He wanted to ask if he would have to follow the first Qi Kou’s path, but he didn’t say the words.

Chen Guan could see what he was thinking. He reached out, straightened the windblown cloak on the child, and noted that all seven dark buttons had gone dim.

“Don’t learn from him.”

The child stared at him.

“If a person can only prove their worth by dying, then it’s this world that deserves to die first.”

In the crowd by the well, someone lowered their head.

But the tall, thin man crawled up from the ground. His chest was caved in, his lips covered in blood, yet he still reached out toward the child.

“You can’t let him leave!” he screamed hoarsely.

“If he leaves, the door is truly gone!”

“City Lord, say something!”

“What are you all standing there for? If the Qi Kou leaves, who lives when the wind disaster comes?”

The crowd fell into chaos. The fear of the old city spread quickly, drowning out the shame of moments ago.

Someone gripped their door frame. Someone picked up a cleaver.