Lin Wei’s hands shook. He realized: this wasn’t a horror ARG. It wasn’t creepypasta. It was a cry. A network of isolated kids, using Bilibili’s anonymity to name what couldn’t be named at home. Evil wasn’t a demon under the bed. It was a parent who never knocked. An empty fridge. The social worker who never came because the world was on lockdown.
Here’s a short narrative inspired by the phrase “Deliver Us from Evil,” set within the Bilibili community during 2020 — a year of uncertainty, isolation, and unexpected digital connection. Deliver Us from Evil Platform: Bilibili Year: 2020
Deliver us from evil. Deliver us from evil. Deliver us from evil. deliver us from evil 2020 bilibili
The reply came as a single danmaku, green text against black: “To be seen. To be heard. To be delivered.”
Lin Wei refreshed. The video was gone. Deleted. But in its place, a new comment thread appeared on a completely unrelated Genshin Impact fan edit. Hundreds of users, all posting the same four words in danmaku: Lin Wei’s hands shook
“Deliver us from evil — not by removing the dark, but by giving us the courage to name it.”
The danmaku returned, but different—slower, heavier, each line a confession: It was a cry
The link led to an unlisted Bilibili stream. No chat. No likes. Just a live feed of a different room: a basement, walls lined with old calendars from 2019. In the center, a radio crackled. A voice—same boy, older now, maybe seventeen—whispered into the mic:
In the spring of 2020, when the world felt like a held breath, Lin Wei, a 22-year-old college student in Shanghai, found himself scrolling Bilibili at 2 a.m. again. The pandemic had turned his dorm into a gilded cage. His days blurred into livestreams, danmaku scrolling like digital rain, and the hollow comfort of autoplay.