Starting with dissecting ghost stories

Meiyuan Residential Community.

Shen Yuan did not touch the twenty-yuan bill.

She stuffed it into a small, gilded ceramic pig with intricate "wealth and fortune" symbols printed on it, which was her little savings treasury.

Then, she pulled a crumpled five-yuan note from the side pocket of her schoolbag; it was the breakfast money she had saved that morning.

The house is so quiet and deserted that even the sound of the TV seems noisy.

She took the money and left the house.

The night in this old neighborhood is not quiet. There are sounds of mahjong being played and the smell of cooking oil everywhere. Shen Yuan skillfully walked through the stairwell piled with clutter and arrived at the street outside the first floor.

A small restaurant, its signboard blackened by cooking fumes, was still lit up. It didn't have any main business; it sold steamed buns and soy milk in the morning, and fried rice and noodles in the afternoon.

"Grandma Zhang, a bowl of stir-fried rice noodles, no scallions."

Shen Yuan found a corner seat and sat down.

The place is filled with the aroma of cheap oil and chili peppers. Although it's pungent, at least there's the smell of cooking oil, which is more comfortable than staying in a house that feels like a morgue.

"Hey, Little Kite's here."

Grandma Zhang, wearing a red apron around her waist behind the stove, smiled broadly, her wrinkled face beaming with joy.

She was a woman with a tragic fate. Her husband passed away early, her son was a compulsive gambler, and her daughter-in-law couldn't stand the domestic violence and gambling, so they divorced. Her son was unreliable, and she had to raise her granddaughter by herself.

Fortunately, the small shop left by her husband allows Grandma Zhang to barely support herself and her granddaughter.

The iron pot clattered against the stove, and flames rose.

A few minutes later, a steaming plate of stir-fried rice noodles, with an excessive amount of food, was served.

"Eat up, you're growing, eat more." Grandma Zhang wiped her hands on her apron and looked at her with a smile.

Shen Yuan lowered her head and took a bite. The hot oil coating the rice noodles burst in her mouth. She didn't say anything, just buried her head and ate quickly.

There weren't many customers in the shop. At a small table in the corner, Li Xiaohua, with her hair in pigtails, was biting her pen and looking at her homework with a worried expression.

After finishing her last bite, Shen Yuan didn't leave immediately. She took out a tissue to wipe her mouth and sat down next to Li Xiaohua.

"The auxiliary lines for this problem are drawn incorrectly."

She picked up a pencil and lightly drew a line on Li Xiaohua's notebook.

"Ah! Thank you, Sister Yuan!" Li Xiaohua's eyes lit up.

Li Xiaohua is Grandma Zhang's granddaughter. Grandma Zhang already knew Shen Yuan's parents. In the past, when Grandma Zhang was busy, she would ask Li Xiaohua to go directly to the Shen family and ask Shen's mother to help look after the children.

The next hour and a half was the most relaxing time of Shen Yuan's day.

Here, she's not that gloomy, withdrawn freak, but just an incredibly capable older sister who can do everything.

Just as Granny Zhang was packing up to close the shop, the sound of a bicycle chain turning stopped at the door.

Shen Yuan's hand holding the pen froze for a moment.

She knew who it was without even looking up.

The man was pushing his bicycle and carrying a leather bag. He stood at the intersection of light and shadow in front of the shop. His glasses reflected the light, making it impossible to see his eyes, but his overly clean shirt was completely out of place in this greasy little shop.

"Dr. Shen is back?" Grandma Zhang greeted him warmly. "Here to pick up Xiaoyuan?"

Shen Xing parked the car and walked in, wearing the standard, polite smile that Shen Yuan hated most.

"Grandma, please take care of her."

"Oh, you're being too polite. Xiao Yuan is such a sensible child; she even helps Fei Mei with her homework," Grandma Zhang said with a smile as she mopped the floor. "You've worked hard too, coming to pick up your sister so late from work. You're such a good brother."

Good brother?

Shen Yuan's fingers, which were gripping the pencil, turned slightly white.

Indeed, in the eyes of outsiders, his decision to give up a high-paying job and return to his hometown was truly a touching act of sacrifice, just as everyone had praised him for his intelligence and excellence.

He always manages to easily win everyone's favor.

Parents are like this, teachers are like this, and Grandma Zhang is like this too.

Whenever he appears, everyone's attention is drawn to him, and all the love and praise flows to him, while you feel like a freebie that comes with a phone top-up.

She will never forget when she was little, every weekend when her father would take her brother on a long trip, she would be refused by her father for various reasons if she wanted to go with him. She could only watch the two of them get into the car and leave, and to this day she still doesn't know what they did on their trip.

Sometimes, when he gets close to her, her father will stop talking altogether and deliberately avoid her.

I always feel excluded, as if I were the one who was adopted.

Shen Yuan suddenly felt nauseous.

The stir-fried rice noodles that had given me that feeling of fullness have now become the culprit causing my stomach to churn.

She didn't say a word, or even glance at Shen Xing, but suddenly stood up and pressed the crumpled five-yuan note under her homework.

"Sister Yuan?" Li Xiaohua was startled by her action.

Shen Yuan didn't respond. She slung her backpack over her shoulder, lowered her head, and quickly walked out of the store, as if fleeing a plague.

……

Watching Shen Yuan walk out of the store, Shen Xing's smile remained unchanged.

"Oh dear, why did this child leave so suddenly?" Grandma Zhang said somewhat awkwardly.

"It's nothing, kids are just going through puberty, it's normal." Shen Xing said calmly, showing no intention of chasing after her. He took out a bill from his pocket and offered it to Granny Zhang, but the old woman firmly refused.

"I've already given her the money, but Xiao Yuan always secretly keeps some for herself, and she won't listen to me no matter what I say."

Shen Xing didn't insist. He withdrew his hand, adjusted his glasses, and said, "Thank you for your help. Is your back feeling better now?"

"Okay, that's a lot more. Let's go back now, don't leave Xiaoyuan walking alone on the road."

Shen Xing nodded, pushed his bicycle, and turned to leave.

He didn't mind Shen Yuan's attitude towards him, nor did it mean he wanted to continue in this way; it was just that he couldn't think of a better solution for the time being.

To be honest, the passing of his adoptive parents didn't stir any emotions in him. Trying to understand Shen Yuan's complex feelings? That was harder than climbing to heaven for Shen Xing.

Compared to complex emotional issues, he prefers things like corpses, which offer a greater sense of certainty.

Moreover, he now has more important things to think about.

Back home, Shen Yuan's bedroom door was tightly shut.

Shen Xing didn't knock on the door, but went straight back to his room.

He locked the door, drew the curtains tightly shut, and then turned on the bedside lamp.

He solemnly placed the petri dish, sealed with electrical tape, on his bedside table, next to his alarm clock.

An ordinary person would probably never put a lump of live flesh cut from a painting in their sleeping place, but for Shen Xing, this thing was no different from a plush toy.

He leaned closer to take a closer look.

The muscles that were once so strong and powerful in the garage, capable of opening the lid, now seemed somewhat lifeless.

It still pointed in the direction of the school, but the wriggling became very weak, like an earthworm that was about to die, only twitching occasionally.

The activity decreases when the distance is too far.

It seems my guess was correct.

The painting itself is just a medium; the real energy source, or "signal tower," is on the wall in the school clinic. Once it leaves that environment, it loses its power.

Shen Xing gently tapped the lid of the petri dish with the pen tip. The muscles inside lazily contracted, showing no signs of aggression.

Shen Xing had already formed a clear experimental plan in his mind.

If that wall can mutate "Dr. Tulp's Anatomy Lesson", can it mutate other paintings?

If you hang a Mona Lisa painting, will she step out of the painting and smile?

If you hang up a diagram of the human skeleton, will you get a moving skeleton?

Or, if you buy several identical prints of "Anatomy Lesson" and hang them up, will each one grow flesh?

If it really succeeds, wouldn't I have an infinitely regenerating biological sample bank?

It seems I'll have to stop by the stationery store and the calligraphy and painting market on my way to work tomorrow morning.

But even if you really build up that much muscle, what function can it serve?

Or rather, what are they actually?

Perhaps... live experiments can provide the answer?