Kiwi Beyond the Cage 019

**Beyond the Cage (Finale)**

"Every coin bears two faces—one side radiant, the other dimmed."

"Like the city's sun-kissed skyline versus its shadowed underbelly. Or human nature itself—mercy veiled in light, cruelty lurking in darkness. To embrace the sun is to cast an inescapable shadow."

"To pursue light or wallow in gloom, idealism or materialism, fate or free will—these dualities eternally clash, eternally contradict."

"Hmm, right, right. So... what's your point?"

"I was merely admiring... how lovely that house up ahead looks."

Escaping the city's clamor, a troupe trekked through misty mountains and emerald rivers, their backpacks rhythmic against sunburned shoulders. A girl in neon tracksuit paused, scuffing her sneaker against a stone. "Old Zhao!!"

"Acting the 'beacon of justice' won't impress anyone—not when you can't even wrangle your own wrinkles!" Zhao Xiangyang yanked the hiking pole from the older man's grip, nearly unbalancing him. He winced: "No respect for your elders!"

Chuckling, she retorted, "Your students mock you too."

At the girl's laughter ahead, he straightened his spine with a cough. "Ungrateful whippersnapper! Do you know how many sleepless nights your old man endured for that case? Finally got a few days' respite... and you drag me mountain climbing..."

Zhao Xiangyang's eyes widened. "You only came because you heard we were touring! Yelled about 'unsafe' until we let you tag along!"

"Enough. Hurry—this your so-called boutique guesthouse? The decor's... distinctive..."

Zhao Xiangyang, this year's top police academy recruit, had convinced her friends to celebrate their university acceptances with a trip. Wushui Town, a destination they'd dreamed of since high school, had been meticulously researched. After endless deliberation over guesthouse photos, the girls chose a "fairytale"-themed option. Though skeptical of "bait-and-switch" listings, the reality matched the dreamlike宣传 photos exactly.

"I read on a travel group the male host's 'devastatingly handsome.' Wonder if it's true."

"Probably a myth. This place has years of reviews—scrolled for ages, no photos of him. Someone stayed ten days and never saw a pretty boy, but the hostess? Stunning..."

"Not just stunning—whimsical! She'll close without warning for months. Bet you can't guess her age."

They traded gossip like treasure: "A hidden wealthy sister! Someone spotted a notorious painting in her room—the one that drives viewers mad with 'Hell's Heart' or 'Son's Lament.' Allegedly a dying female artist's cursed work. Museums only display authorized replicas, but hers seems genuine..."

"The guesthouse has two dogs! Three cats! One review said the hostess is hilarious—tells ghost stories when bored. There's one called 'The Corpse on the Ceiling,' sounds terrifying. They warned us not to ask."

Zhao Liang frowned. "What did you say?"

"Something about a corpse climbing the ceiling." Oddly familiar.

Inside the guesthouse, Zhao Xiangyang pointed upward. "A fat cat's perched on the ceiling."

Zhao Liang looked—"!! So huge! So plump!!"

Wait, two cats.

Unluckily, the hostess was walking dogs in the fields. Greeting them instead was a fair-skinned youth, college-aged, perhaps a few years their senior. The girls whispered: "Could he be the male host?"

"Undeniably handsome... but a bit young."

"Youth is charming! Younger brothers have vigor."

Zhao Xiangyang snorted. "Appropriate? The hostess is Dad's contemporary—more likely her summer hire."

Yawning from fatigue, Zhao Liang followed upstairs until his pocket vibrated—their special ringtone. He had to answer.

"Boss, we've arrived! How could we forget you?" Waving at his daughter, Zhao Liang settled on a porch swing, video-calling his wife.

"What's this place? Why's there a cat..."

Zhao Liang filmed the view: "Our little sunshine's choice—fairytale style. Stunning scenery, mountains, rivers, flower fields. I'll bring you here when you're free."

The gravel path outside, lined with topiary animals, included what seemed a dog's head—until a massive canine burst from the bushes.

"Wait, come back!" panted a voice.

As the dog lunged, Zhao Liang snatched the leash with reflexes honed by years of police work. Its owner emerged from the shrubbery, muttering, "Slips the leash every chance..."—then froze, meeting his gaze.

"Officer Zhao?"

"Ji Wei?!"

Ji Wei, the guesthouse's proprietress, stood braided and sunhat-clad, her woolen hair adorned with wildflowers. Her eyes, polished by nature, held starlight and no shadow. She smiled, her beautiful eyes crinkling. "Better not to meet when there's no trouble."

She harbored no fondness for frequent police encounters.

"Aren't there two dogs? Where's the other?"

"Still outside."

Zhao Liang raised an eyebrow. "Off-leash?"

"Impossible." The other was larger—Ji Wei couldn't manage it these days. She jerked her thumb backward. "Someone's walking it."

"Oho, who—"

Ji Wei waved goodbye; the vegetable garden needed her. Hoe in hand, she sprinted, calling over her shoulder, "Coming!"

Dusk painted the floor-to-ceiling windows with amber light, casting patterns like scattered quilts. Zhao Xiangyang rolled on the plush bed until sleep released her. Stretching, she approached the window, watching the hostess in her flowing dress and straw hat gather flowers below. Someone else—gender indiscernible—must be photographing her from Xiangyang's blind spot.

Downstairs, she discovered the corridor walls a tapestry of photos: guests laughing, the hostess with feline or canine companions. Too many to absorb at once.

"Gotten a glimpse of the male host yet?" Xiangyang poked her friend teasing a cat.

Friends shook their heads. "No such person. The hostess, despite her years, seems perpetually twenty. Likely never married."

Unwedness, the agreed elixir of eternal youth.

Xiangyang nodded. "Dad wants me to call her 'Auntie Wei.' Can't bring myself to."

"Then 'big sister'?"

Another friend snorted. "Did you hear the hostess's dogs' names?"

Zhao Liang interjected, "I know one's name."

Xiangyang's curiosity prickled. "What is it?"

"Called 'Big Brother.'"

Nightfall.

By the river, they kindled a small bonfire. Under the cover of darkness, guests coaxed the hostess into storytelling. Ji Wei, cradling a plump cat, had traded her floral hairpins for tiny nail-sized clips—a constellation of blossoms. Xiangyang idly wondered: if the hostess retired alone to her room, would she spend hours removing those clips? She'd gladly assist.

Xiangyang also itched to confirm rumors of the hostess's alleged demonic portrait.

Perching on a stone, Ji Wei adjusted her skirt, revealing a silver pendant—a coin. It flipped with her movements, alternating between a sunward obverse and shadowed reverse. Occasionally, it teetered against her collar, maddeningly upright.

Under expectant silence, Ji Wei stroked the cat in her arms. A shadow fell from the shrubbery, and she laughed—a sound like wind chimes. "Let me tell you a tale... of a corpse climbing the ceiling."

...

The mountain breeze turned chilly. Friends huddled close, while bold guests debated the story's twist. Xiangyang rubbed her prickling arms, feigning bravery but edging toward Zhao Liang. "Old Zhao... Brother Zhao... Chief Zhao, Dad!"

Zhao Liang, exchanging cutesy emojis with his wife, snapped, "What?!"

Xiangyang pointed past Ji Wei. "I swear... something's crawling this way."

Like a person.

Or the many-eyed monster from Ji Wei's tale.

Or perhaps... her imagination.

Kiwi Beyond the Cage (The End)