Song Nanxing searched everywhere but couldn’t find the Plush Bunny.
He thought the Plush Bunny wasn’t an ordinary doll, so maybe it had gone out for a while and would be back soon.
But even as he comforted himself with this thought, staring at the empty sofa made him feel like something was still missing.
Since Song Nanxing had picked up the Plush Bunny, it had always stayed at home and never left.
He absentmindedly made himself lunch. After eating, he glanced at the sofa again, which was still empty; the Plush Bunny hadn’t suddenly appeared there.
He stared blankly at the sofa, recalling that many years ago when he was sent home, he suddenly found that the doll that had accompanied him was missing. Back then, he searched the entire house but never found it.
“Maybe it’s just out playing and forgot the time,” Song Nanxing tried to reassure himself.
He imagined that perhaps the Plush Bunny had already come back when he wasn’t paying attention.
Convincing himself, he distracted his mind, grabbed his laptop, and went back to his bedroom to watch some random show to pass the time.
But he couldn’t focus on the drama at all; his eyes kept drifting to the clock in the lower right corner.
Time slowly ticked by. He pretended to get water, passing through the living room three or four times, but the Plush Bunny in its white and pink dress never appeared on the sofa.
Song Nanxing felt listless all day.
At dinner, Shen Du noticed that his bowl was barely touched and asked curiously, “Not hungry today?”
Song Nanxing shook his head but his expression clearly said otherwise.
“Did something happen? If you want, you can talk to me. Maybe I can help.” Shen Du looked at him intently, his expression gentle and patient, giving off a strange but comforting feeling that made one want to confide in him.
Song Nanxing put down his chopsticks, lowered his head, and said weakly, “My Plush Bunny that I really like is missing.”
“It was clearly on the sofa last night.”
He couldn’t tell Shen Du that it was a magical Plush Bunny, different from other dolls. It had left home for many years before, but it had come back on its own.
He could only lower his eyes and say softly, “It means a lot to me.”
Shen Du’s gaze subtly shifted to the Puppet and Little Octopus, then returned warmly to Song Nanxing. He said softly, “Maybe it just had a little problem and hid itself away.”
Song Nanxing looked at him in surprise, almost thinking Shen Du knew something.
But Shen Du met his gaze and smiled slightly, explaining, “Isn’t that how fairy tales go? Lost toys suddenly come back to you after a long time. Maybe they just ran off to play, or maybe they want to play hide and seek with you, waiting for you to find them. And if they find that you can’t find them for a long time, maybe they can’t help but come out themselves.”
Song Nanxing thought for a moment and muttered, “You might be right.”
He stood up and looked at Shen Du apologetically. “Sorry, I might need to do a big cleanup.”
Shen Du understood perfectly and stood with him, saying, “I’ll leave first then. If you need help, just call me anytime.”
Song Nanxing nodded. After Shen Du left, he started rummaging through the house.
What Shen Du said inspired him—maybe the Plush Bunny was just hiding somewhere.
Just then, Little Octopus suddenly floated out of the fish tank, wrapping one of its tentacles around Song Nanxing’s wrist and pulling him toward the spare bedroom door, its whole body clinging to the doorknob.
Song Nanxing froze, vaguely realizing something. “Do you know where the Plush Bunny is hiding?”
One of Little Octopus’s eight tentacles bent and tapped the door three times: “knock knock knock.”
Song Nanxing opened the spare bedroom door.
The spare bedroom had originally been the master bedroom and had been left unused as a storage room.
When he renovated the house later, he hadn’t touched this room, thinking that if his mother came back, seeing this room might make her feel more familiar. He himself rarely went in there.
The room was simply furnished, with just a bed, a wardrobe reaching the ceiling, and a desk.
The curtains were drawn, and the lighting was dim.
Song Nanxing pulled open the curtains, letting in the light, which brightened up the gloomy room a bit.
He walked to the wardrobe, placed his hand on the door, and slowly opened it.
Sure enough, the Plush Bunny that had been missing for most of the day was in the corner of the wardrobe, but it looked terribly battered.
Its pink dress was torn and ragged, one ear was broken off, and it had countless holes with cotton stuffing poking out, fluttering everywhere in the breeze from the opening wardrobe door.
But Song Nanxing let out a big sigh of relief.
It hadn’t left; it had only been hiding.
He bent down and picked up the Plush Bunny, carefully feeling its ears. “Did you get into a fight outside?”
The Plush Bunny didn’t make a sound but quietly buried its head in his arms, shooting a glare at the meddling Little Octopus.
Song Nanxing carried the Plush Bunny back to the living room and fetched a sewing kit to start mending it.
Before, it was just one ear that needed fixing, which was easier to handle. This time, there were so many tears that even Song Nanxing, aware of his poor sewing skills, knew it would be tough.
He found video tutorials online and clumsily threaded the needle, following along as he stitched and patched.
Though the stitches still looked ugly, they were much better than the first time. The holes leaking cotton were at least sewn up.
But the shredded pink dress and the missing part of the ear were beyond repair.
Song Nanxing gently patted it and coaxed, “When the toy store opens, I’ll buy you a new dress.”
Maybe Jing Rao could help fix the missing ear.
Hearing him mention the toy store, the Plush Bunny’s red eyes showed a hint of sadness.
Seeing no response from it, Song Nanxing sighed softly, hesitated, then asked quietly, “Did someone bully you?”
He didn’t know if the Plush Bunny could talk, but he still hoped for an answer.
The Plush Bunny neither moved nor spoke. It lay on his lap like an ordinary doll.
Without a reply, Song Nanxing put it back on the sofa.
The Plush Bunny looked at his retreating back and quietly puckered its mouth.
It mustn’t involve Nanxing.
*****
Despite Jing Rao’s repeated warnings not to return to the Sixth Floor, the Plush Bunny still stubbornly went there at night.
It carefully jumped down from the sofa and cautiously opened the door to leave.
All its attention was focused on going to the Sixth Floor, completely unaware that Little Octopus was silently following behind.
After they both left, the Puppet jumped down from the shelf and knocked on Song Nanxing’s bedroom door.
Song Nanxing, who hadn’t gone to bed yet, immediately opened the door, dressed in T-shirt and pajamas, clearly prepared.
— Earlier that day, he had quietly told the Puppet that if it saw the Plush Bunny leaving, it should come and tell him.
“Thanks.” He hugged the Puppet and quietly followed it out.
When he saw the Plush Bunny standing outside room 601, Song Nanxing was surprised.
Why was the Plush Bunny looking for Jing Rao?
He held his breath and didn’t reveal himself immediately.
The Plush Bunny’s ears drooped as it paced anxiously outside 601, hesitant.
Having learned from past experience, it didn’t dare get too close to the door, only sniffing the air far from it to catch Jing Rao’s scent.
Jing Rao’s scent was much fainter than yesterday.
The bloodstains seeping from behind the door seemed even stronger.
It circled anxiously, unsure what to do.
It couldn’t fight those monsters or rescue Jing Rao.
Realizing this, the Plush Bunny was both frustrated and sad, its ears listlessly drooping.
It stared blankly at the door to 601 for a moment, then reluctantly turned to leave.
But it ran right into Song Nanxing, who was carrying the Puppet.
The Plush Bunny froze, its red eyes wide with fright. It looked left and right as if trying to find somewhere to hide, but the stairwell offered no good hiding spot.
It could only stand there, head bowed in guilt and frustration, like a child caught doing something wrong by their parents.
Song Nanxing’s chest ached. He set the Puppet down, crouched before the Plush Bunny, and gently asked, “You know Jing Rao? She hasn’t opened the shop these past two days.”
The Plush Bunny looked up at him briefly and slowly shook its head.
Its two short paws nervously clasped together.
It didn’t want to lie to Nanxing, but inside there were so many monsters—it was dangerous.
Its little gestures were too obvious. Song Nanxing couldn’t pretend not to see them and had to pick it up, heading toward the door of 601.
“Why are you looking for her?” he asked.
The Plush Bunny grew anxious as they approached 601, gripping his arm with its short paws, shaking its head, and finally urgently saying, “Nanxing can’t go. It’s dangerous.”
Song Nanxing froze, stunned.
“Nanxing, Nanxing.”
He remembered someone once called him that, a name full of closeness and dependence.
Who was it?
He shook his head, unable to recall.
His mother also called him Nanxing, but her tone was gentle, unlike this.
Song Nanxing stared at the Plush Bunny blankly and asked, “What’s your name?”
Realizing it had said too much, the Plush Bunny’s eyes widened in terror, shaking its head and refusing to speak no matter what.
Just then, the door to 601 suddenly opened.
White mist poured out from the room, engulfing the unprepared Plush Bunny and Song Nanxing.
Song Nanxing held the Plush Bunny tightly as they stood on the street. Little Octopus and the Puppet were nowhere to be seen.
The dense mist cleared, revealing a row of not very tall apartment buildings across the street. Above the main gate was a sign with four calligraphic characters: “Cuihu Garden.”
The Plush Bunny’s ears twitched as it turned back to look.
The door to 601 had vanished, replaced by an expanse of white fog.
Worried, it grabbed Song Nanxing’s arm, shaking its head repeatedly.
Song Nanxing recalled its earlier warning: “Have you been inside before?”
The Plush Bunny hesitated but nodded. It gestured for Song Nanxing to lower his head, pressing its forehead against his.
Many images flashed by like a silent film. Song Nanxing understood what had happened and patted its head, saying, “It’s okay. We’ll find others and figure out how to get out.”
The Plush Bunny looked at him anxiously.
Song Nanxing looked around and, seeing only one path, carried the Plush Bunny toward Cuihu Garden.
Little Octopus and the Puppet had been with him but were now missing—maybe they were inside Cuihu Garden too.
He reached the community gate but didn’t enter immediately.
He circled the outer wall, peering through the wrought iron fence to observe inside.
There were about a dozen buildings, mostly standard nine-story apartment blocks, with the tallest at twelve floors. The building numbers increased the further inward they went. From the images the Plush Bunny showed him, Jing Rao was last seen in building six, apartment 902.
The sky was bright, and the sun’s faint outline could be seen through the clouds, suggesting it was still morning.
Oddly, though, there were no residents visible inside the complex.
Song Nanxing memorized the layout of the buildings and finally stepped through the gates of Cuihu Garden.
As soon as he passed the gate, he sensed something had changed.
First came the noise of many voices.
Looking around, Song Nanxing saw the complex that had seemed empty from the outside was now filled with residents.
Some were doing tai chi by the artificial lake, others jogging, walking dogs, or entering the gate with groceries.
But each resident looked stranger than the last.
Seeing Song Nanxing carrying the Plush Bunny, all of them stopped what they were doing and turned to look at him.
Song Nanxing avoided their gazes, sticking close to the right side of the green pathway as he moved forward.
Their monstrous heads twisted constantly to follow him with their eyes.
Behind him, the sound of metal chains scraping the ground grew louder.
A coarse voice called out, “Hey, you up ahead, stop.”
The hairs on the back of Song Nanxing’s neck stood on end. The Plush Bunny in his arms tensed, ears perked as if ready to fight.
Song Nanxing gently patted its back, then turned to face the voice.
The man who called him was at least two meters tall, his entire body wrapped in thick metal chains. A heavy ring of keys hung around his neck.
His ill-fitting security uniform strained over his bulky frame, seeming on the verge of tearing apart.
Song Nanxing guessed he was a community security guard.
The guard lowered his head, eyes dark as he scrutinized Song Nanxing, gruffly asking, “Which building are you from? You look unfamiliar.”
His mouth opened and closed with overlapping metal teeth, drool flying as he snarled, “No outsiders allowed in this complex.”
Song Nanxing saw the greed burning in the guard’s oily eyes. If he didn’t answer, the guard might bite his head off at any moment.
He calmly took a step back and, clearly annoyed, said, “I just moved into building six. Your memory’s terrible—I’ve been asked this several times already. Keep it up and I’m reporting you to management.”
The guard was stunned by Song Nanxing’s bold reply. His iron teeth retreated just as he recalled, “Oh? Really? I don’t remember that at all.”
He tapped his head in frustration, the chains and keys clinking loudly around him.
Oh wait- The bunny is Song Nanxing’s missing sister?