Chapter 1
Edward Quan ·
I'm a mystery novelist.
Ever since my son was small, I've made up all sorts of stories to teach him things.
Today, I planned to talk to him about staying safe online.
“Dad, are you going to tell another one of those boring ghost stories?”
But by the time he heard the ending, he was staring at me in terror.
The thing was, my son was part of that story too.
I sat down beside his computer chair, ready for a father-and-son talk.
He was playing an online game called “Virtual Life.”
His eyes stayed fixed on the screen while comments streamed through the chat panel.
“Xuyên Xuyên, could you stop playing for a moment?”
He quit the game, switched off the computer, and looked up.
“Dad, are you going to tell another one of those boring ghost stories?”
“What?”
I clutched my chest, pretending to be wounded for a second, then grinned.
“I thought you liked my educational stories.”
Since he was little, I had told him all kinds of tales about monsters that ate children.
Like many parents, I used scary stories to reinforce his sense of right and wrong and teach him how to protect himself.
As a single father, I had to use every tool available.
He grimaced.
“They were okay when I was three. I'm older now. Your stories sound silly.
“If you're telling one about the internet, it has to be really... really scary!”
I narrowed my eyes skeptically.
He folded his arms.
“Dad, I'm eight. I can take it.”
“Hmm... all right. I'll try.”
I began.
“Once upon a time, there was a boy named Tiểu Minh...”
One look at my son's face told me what he thought of that all-too-familiar opening.
He sighed softly, bracing himself for another boring story.
I continued.
Tiểu Minh went online and registered accounts on several children's websites.
Before long, he was chatting with other children in the games' comment sections.
He befriended a boy whose username was “Long Long.”
They liked some of the same video games and television shows.
They joked with each other and explored new games together.
After a few months, Tiểu Minh gave Long Long six in-game diamonds.
For a child, it was an extremely generous gift.
His birthday was coming.
Long Long said he wanted to send him something really cool in real life.
Tiểu Minh didn't think giving a friend his home address was a big deal.
As long as Long Long promised not to tell any strangers.
Long Long swore not to tell anyone, not even his parents, and began sending parcels.
I paused.
“Do you think that was all right?”
“No!”
My son shook his head immediately.
Clearly, though, the story had drawn him in.
Tiểu Minh soon realized his mistake too.
After sharing his address, he began to feel guilty.
The guilt grew.
And grew.
By the following evening, as he lay in bed in his pajamas, guilt and fear had overwhelmed everything else.
At last, he decided to tell his parents.
He might be punished severely.
But he would feel better.
That was worth it.
Waiting for them to tuck him in as usual, he tossed and turned anxiously.
My son knew the scary part was coming.
For all his brave talk, his eyes were wide, and he leaned slightly forward.
I deliberately lowered my voice.
Tiểu Minh heard the familiar sounds inside and outside the house.
Branches scratched against the brick wall.
His baby brother cried in the nursery.
And there were other sounds.
Sounds he... could... not... identify.
At last, footsteps came down the hall.
“Dad... is that you?” he asked nervously.
“I have something to tell you.”
His father's head slowly appeared around the doorframe.
But at a very strange angle.
In the darkness, his mouth didn't seem to move.
His eyes looked different too.
“Yes, son.”
Even his voice was horribly strange.
“Dad... are you all right?”
“Mm.”
That distorted voice again.
Tiểu Minh pulled the blanket higher.
“Um... where's Mom?”
“I'm here!”
Her face appeared below his father's in the doorway.
Her voice was unnaturally shrill.
“Were you going to tell us you gave Long Long our address?
“You shouldn't have done that!
“We told you never to share personal information online!”
His mother went on.
“He isn't a child!
“He only pretended to be one!
“Do you know what he did?
“He found our house, broke in, and killed the whole family.
“Just so he could be with you!”
At that moment, a fat man in a coat appeared in the doorway.
In his hands were two freshly severed heads.
Tiểu Minh screamed.
He was so terrified he couldn't breathe.
The man threw the heads onto the floor, drew a knife, and advanced.
The boy could only scream, instinctively covering his face with both hands.
By this point, my son was deathly pale. He hurried onto his bed and wrapped his little blanket tightly around himself.
My story, meanwhile, was only beginning.
A few hours later, Tiểu Minh lay dying.
His screams had faded to weak moans.
Then the killer heard a baby crying in the next room.
He pulled the knife out of Tiểu Minh's body.
For him, this was a special opportunity.
He had never killed a baby before.
The thought alone filled him with a peculiar excitement.
The killer, “Long Long,” left Tiểu Minh to die and followed the crying through the house.
At last, he found the nursery.
He went to the crib and picked up the baby for a closer look.
But as soon as the child was in his arms, the crying gradually stopped.
The baby looked up and smiled at him.
The killer had never held a baby.
Still, copying what he had seen others do, he gently rocked the child in his arms.
He wiped the blood from his hands on the blanket, then softly stroked the baby's tender cheek.
“Hello, little one.”
The violent fury inside him suddenly melted.
In its place came a warmth and tenderness he had never known.
He carried the baby out, took him home, named him Xuyên Xuyên, and raised him as his own son.
When I finished, my son was visibly shaken.
He gasped and stammered, “But... Dad... my name's Xuyên Xuyên too.”
I gave him my usual wink and ruffled his hair.
“That's right, son.”
He burst into tears, ran upstairs into his bedroom, and locked the door.
I got up, followed him, and knocked gently.
“Xuyên Xuyên, it's only a story. I made it up.”
No answer.
Only sobbing.
“Open the door and let me in.”
After a while, it opened.
Tear tracks still marked his face.
“Dad... will Long Long come and get me?”
I held him and gently patted his back.
“Of course not. It's just a story to frighten children who don't stay safe online.”
“But you said lots of your stories were true.”
He looked up at me, his eyes full of tears.
I sighed softly.
This boy really was difficult.
“Some are true. Some aren't. But they all have the same purpose. To teach children things they ought to know.”
I carried him to bed and tucked him in.
“All right. Stop worrying. Have a nap.”
He closed his eyes, but held tightly to my hand.
“Dad... will you nap with me?”
I hesitated, then nodded.
“All right. I'll get my pillow.”
Just as I turned, the doorbell rang.
Who could it be at noon?
I went to the door and looked through the peephole.
A young woman stood outside holding a notebook.
“Are you Mr. Lưu?”
“Yes. And you are...?”
“Lâm Nhiễm, from Mystery magazine. We arranged an interview for today.”
She lifted the notebook in her hand.
Then I remembered.
I really had agreed to an interview a few days earlier.
“I'm sorry. I forgot. Please come in.”
I opened the door and invited her inside.
She looked around, apparently a little surprised by the mess.
“Have a seat. I'll get you some water.”
I went to the kitchen, poured two glasses, and brought them to the living room.
“Sorry about the state of the place,” I said awkwardly.
She smiled.
“It's all right. I understand. You're raising a child on your own, after all.”
“Thank you.”
Relieved, I sat opposite her.
“Your novels are very popular. Many readers are curious about where you get your inspiration.”
She opened her notebook and began.
“Mostly from my life. Some comes from material I've collected.”
“I've noticed that many of your stories concern families and children. But as far as I know, you've never married. Why is that?”
The unexpected question caught me off guard.
“That's private. It doesn't seem relevant to the interview.”
“I'm sorry. I was just curious. If you've never been married, then your son...?”
She kept probing.
I took a sip of water and said slowly, “He's adopted.”
That didn't end the subject.
She even asked which orphanage I had adopted him from.
Silence settled over the room.
Couldn't she see that she had crossed a line?
Instead of doing her job, this reporter had started interrogating me.