Chapter 1

My boyfriend kept pressing me about whether I was a virgin. He cared so much that he even took me to a hospital to have it checked.

Furious, I argued with him, then posted about it anonymously online.

The post sparked outrage at once.

The most-liked comment urged me to break up with him: a man like that would turn into a surveillance camera, watching my every move.

But my boyfriend was actually very good to me.

When the abuse grew too harsh, I couldn't help defending him.

Then, amid all the angry comments, one stood out:

[Your boyfriend isn't Han Chinese, is he?]

1

I stared at that comment.

Because he wasn't.

Before I could react, replies began piling up beneath it.

[So what if he isn't Han? Is this some kind of regional discrimination?]

[As though you Han people are so superior and the rest of us are uncivilized.]

[She's talking about her own relationship. Can we not turn it into an ethnic issue? Unbelievable.]

…

As more people grew angry, and the discussion strayed into sensitive territory, I worried the moderators would lock the post. I hurried to reply.

[Do you know something? Could you explain? I fully respect cultural differences between ethnic groups.]

Perhaps some custom I didn't know about had caused the misunderstanding between my boyfriend and me.

Because he really did treat me well.

We'd been together for two years.

Every day after work, all I had to do was collapse on the sofa. He took care of the cooking and housework.

Before bed, he even brought me water to soak my feet.

He remembered every day of my period. Several days beforehand, he would remind me to keep warm and avoid cold food.

If I hurt myself and bled, he was more anxious than I was, solemnly fussing over every detail.

I'd grown up without parents.

He practically spoiled me like his own daughter.

That made me feel guilty.

All these people were insulting him because of that one incident.

I scrolled through a few more comments.

The woman with the Sailor Moon profile picture still hadn't answered.

Perhaps all the insults had made her mute the thread.

I switched off my phone and looked at my boyfriend, asleep beside me.

Tanned skin. A discreet snake tattoo on his neck. Strongly defined features.

I couldn't help tracing the lines of his face with my gaze.

I woke him, but he wasn't angry.

He took my hand and pressed a light kiss to it.

“Go to sleep. We've got a flight tomorrow morning.”

Tomorrow, he was taking me home to meet his parents.

I was so excited I could barely sleep.

…

The next day, I was still drowsy on the plane.

With nothing to do, I opened my phone to delete the post.

I didn't want anyone else insulting him.

The moment I opened the app, I saw a reply from the woman with the Sailor Moon picture.

[Is your boyfriend Tibetan?]

I looked out at the endless snowy mountains beyond the plane window and froze.

He was.

Apparently I'd asked the right person.

Since we'd argued about it, Gongbu and I had agreed never to mention the subject again. I hadn't had another chance to ask him.

Now, unexpectedly, I'd found someone who knew more.

A surge of excitement ran through me.

[Yes. Why?]

I hadn't expected an immediate reply.

But it came almost at once.

[Don't go to his home.]

My heart lurched.

Because right then…

I was on a flight there.

Slowly, I turned toward Gongbu, who was busy working. I stared at him, distracted.

“What's wrong, sweetheart?”

He looked over and gave my hand an affectionate little shake.

“Nothing. Just sleepy.”

He smiled and pretended to scold me.

“Who told you to stay up all night? My wife isn't ugly. Why's she so afraid of meeting her in-laws?”

He adjusted my seat, tucked a blanket around me, and rubbed my hands.

“Don't worry. My parents are good people. Get some sleep.”

He was always so considerate.

Always so gentle.

Perhaps the woman with the Sailor Moon picture was just playing a trick.

Or perhaps she really was prejudiced against other ethnic groups.

We'd been together for five years, and here I was doubting him because of one stranger's comment.

I nodded, burrowed beneath the blanket, and turned onto my side.

After a while, the tapping of his keyboard resumed.

I secretly opened my phone.

A little angry now, I wanted to expose her.

[What if I go anyway?]

She seemed to have been waiting.

Her reply was almost immediate.

[My younger sister went three years ago… She never came back.]

My hand shook. At that very moment, the plane jolted, and my phone clattered to the floor.

Dazed, I bent to retrieve it. Gongbu immediately leaned down, picked it up, and handed it back.

I quickly switched off the still-lit screen.

He noticed, but asked nothing. He merely stroked my cheek.

“What am I going to do with you? You can't even sleep without making trouble.”

I giggled.

“That's what I have you for~”

Settling back, I watched him work.

I honestly couldn't imagine someone so good doing anything to hurt me.

But curiosity made me open the phone again.

The comments were in an uproar.

[What is that supposed to mean? Explain yourself instead of playing the ethnic-discrimination card!]

[You can really say anything, can't you? Your sister disappears and you blame her boyfriend instead of going to the police?]

[I'm Han and I'm trembling.]

[Are we getting a serialized folk-horror story here? I don't know what to say, but I'm looking forward to it.]

…

Those comments reminded me of something.

The word “virgin” in my post's title had drawn a lot of attention. Perhaps someone had really come to write a story.

I replied irritably.

[Well, what if I'm already here? Oh, I'm so scared.]

Then I tossed the phone aside, put on my eye mask, and slept.

After we landed, there was more traveling to do. Gongbu's home wasn't in Lhasa. We changed vehicles several times before we could say we'd arrived.

“Arrived” was a loose term.

His home was deep in the mountains.

He led me in on foot, turning left and right so often that I couldn't possibly remember the route.

His parents called several times to ask why we hadn't reached them yet. They sounded impatient.

I couldn't help remembering Cardcaptor Sakura's warning.

A chill crept up my neck.

I wanted to run.

“Why have you stopped? Tired?”

Gongbu turned and smiled, then crouched.

“Get on. I'll carry you.”

I looked around. Even if I ran, there was no way I could find my way out of these tangled mountains.

I gritted my teeth and climbed onto his back.

How bad could a man willing to carry me along a mountain path possibly be?

When we reached his home, I thought I really had been worrying too much.

I hadn't expected to find an old stone house so deep in the mountains.

His parents were kind and welcoming. They made me salted butter tea and slaughtered a goat for soup.

Throughout the meal, they kept saying butter tea was best with salt.

Of course, I understood none of it. Gongbu translated.

After we ate, his parents urged me to take a bath and wash off the journey's fatigue. Apparently the bathwater came from melted mountain snow.

Full and comfortable, I returned to my room and opened my phone, ready to expose Cardcaptor Sakura's lie.

Hadn't she told me not to come? Here I was, and nothing had happened.

She'd replied long ago.

I'd expected anger, but her message was perfectly serious.

[Go to the room on the top floor of his house. See whether there's a painting hanging there.]

I was suspicious. The instructions sounded so mysterious.

Still, I was already here. What harm could a look do?

If there was no painting, everything was fine. I could stop being afraid.

If there was…

Thinking that, I pushed open the door to the top-floor room.

Incense struck my nose. The last light of evening fell across a hanging painting.

A painting!

Bang!

A cold gust blew through, and the door closed behind me.

I went rigid.

Cold sweat broke out all over me. My scalp prickled, and goose bumps rose across my body.

The painting was large, covered with patterns I didn't recognize, distinctly ethnic in style.

But what frightened me was this—

It was more than a meter long.

And it was shaped exactly like a person.

Forcing myself to stay calm, I photographed it and posted the picture in the comments.

The thread exploded.

[Holy shit! What the hell is that? There really is a painting?!]

[I'm a coward, okay? Don't scare me! It's dark already. You two planned this together, didn't you?!]

[Why is that thing human-shaped? That's fucking terrifying.]

[It's engagement bait. You're tricking me. It has to be…]

[Girl, run! Something about this feels wrong. It's so creepy.]

…

As the comments grew more frantic, I typed,

[What is it?]

Her answer came at once.

[A human-skin thangka.]

[What's a human-skin thangka?]

Someone else asked before I could.

[Simply put, it's a religious scroll painting made from human skin.]

My legs nearly gave way.

I stared at the hanging painting, sick and terrified.

Everything was silent. The room had only one small window, facing the painting, and the light was fading.

Incense drifted through the air, as though it meant to swallow me into the dark.

I wanted to run, but my legs were lead. I couldn't move. All I could do was stare blankly at my phone.

[Human skin… not what I'm thinking, surely? Girl, be careful.]

[I've heard of this. Apparently they only use the skin of enlightened monks and unmarried young women.]

[So that's why her boyfriend took her to the hospital to be checked…]

[I'm Tibetan. This was abolished after the People's Republic of China was founded. They use artificial skin now. Stop frightening the poor girl!]

[But it's an awfully big coincidence… Be careful!]

…

I couldn't stop being afraid. My breathing quickened. I had no idea what to do.

Then Cardcaptor Sakura sent another message.

[Don't eat anything they give you. Don't bathe in snowmelt water.]

I nearly forgot how to breathe. My teeth chattered.

Everything that had happened since last night matched what she'd said.

Either she'd planted a camera on me…

Or she hadn't lied. Everything she'd told me was true.

With shaking hands, I typed,

[What if I've already eaten—and already taken the bath?]