Go die—
Go die, go die, go die—
This was the first thought that surfaced in Gan Tang’s mind.
He wanted to turn around and hurl curses at the guy behind him, wanted to punch him (even though that would bring the latter some degree of pleasure), or simply skip over that thing and run away.
But he couldn’t move. He stood frozen in place, his whole body trembling.
A gentle breeze swept through the forest, and his back, drenched in cold sweat, felt chillingly frigid.
He didn’t even know when “Cen Zibai” had appeared behind him, nor did he dare to look back—because right in front of him, “Uncle Zhang Er” was still writhing.
“Hah… ssshh… hah-hah…”
It tilted its head back, greedily “staring” at Gan Tang.
The worms spewing from its mouth seemed to be responding to some incomprehensible thought, writhing even faster. Their sticky, slimy surfaces rubbed against each other, producing layer upon layer of white foam.
Gan Tang felt like he was about to lose his mind.
“Lick? Lick me? What do you think you are? Are you a dog—”
He mustered his courage, intending to use the same old trick—once again pretending to be strong, trying to suppress “Cen Zibai” with sheer momentum.
But before he could even finish speaking, another ominous rustling sound reached his ears. The bushes shook once more.
Then, a swollen, grotesque face emerged within the trembling glow of Gan Tang’s flashlight.
It was a completely unfamiliar face, one that Gan Tang had never seen in Fengjing Village. Though its features had long been obscured by decay and the worms crawling in and out of its facial orifices, something about it suggested that, in life, this person had been a very young and handsome man.
Unfortunately, it had long since lost its human form. Its head had become nothing more than a nest for worms.
Gan Tang’s breath caught for a moment.
“Rustle… rustle…”
In the darkness, the squirming sounds of the newcomer grew even clearer. As the leaves swayed, Gan Tang quickly saw its full body—or rather, its lack thereof.
At first, he instinctively thought he was about to face a second monster like Uncle Zhang Er. But once it crawled out of the bushes, he saw the truth—this young man was nothing more than a severed head.
From the back of its neck trailed a long, milky-white, python-like body. Only upon closer inspection did it become clear that this “body” was actually composed of countless tangled threadworms.
Compared to the threadworms that had poured out of Uncle Zhang Er’s body, the ones supporting the head were significantly thicker and more dexterous.
Naturally, this meant that when they carried the head forward, they moved with even greater speed.
What was even worse was that, the moment it appeared, Gan Tang could clearly feel the intense “interest” it had in him.
Like a cobra swaying to the tune of an Indian snake charmer’s flute, its twisted worm-body reared up high, lifting the severed head as it lunged toward Gan Tang.
For a fleeting moment, it was so close—so close that Gan Tang could see the fine, dense stitches on its eyelids and the few strands of black thread that had not yet fully fallen off.
This was Zhang Er’s wife’s younger brother.
The one Uncle Zhang Er had killed and dismembered.
The one whose bones had been broken, whose every orifice had been sewn shut, whose body had been briefly stuffed into the flesh well…
“Hah… ssshh… give… back… ssshh…”
At this moment, it was struggling to open its mouth wide, spewing threadworms as it stammered and mumbled incomprehensible gibberish at Gan Tang.
Gan Tang could feel that this new monster harbored some inexplicable craving and urgency toward him, though he had no idea what connection it had to him… When he first learned of its existence, it had already been killed by Uncle Zhang Er.
His mind was a complete mess. He told himself he hadn’t broken down yet, but his body was being brutally honest—it wouldn’t stop trembling.
In contrast, the “Cen Zibai” pressed against his back remained utterly unaffected by these worm-infested creatures.
The taller boy used his large frame to envelop Gan Tang from behind, as if he wanted to absorb him entirely into his own body cavity. Their posture was far too close—so close that, through their thin layers of skin and flesh, Gan Tang could feel Cen Zibai’s chest trembling ever so slightly.
Terrified, his reactions became sluggish.
It took him a while to realize—Cen Zibai was laughing silently.
“What’s Tang Tang planning to do?”
The boy’s lips seemed to be pressed right against Gan Tang’s ear. With a soft, amused tone, he asked the pale-faced, nearly fainting teenager in his arms.
“You… you…”
Gan Tang’s lips moved, but he couldn’t form a coherent sentence.
His body instinctively kept retreating, desperately trying to put as much distance as possible between himself and the two writhing “people” crawling toward him.
But no matter how hard he tried, the tall, icy shadow of Cen Zibai remained firmly behind him.
Because of Cen Zibai, Gan Tang had nowhere to escape.
Yet, in stark contrast to his cruel actions, Cen Zibai’s voice remained soft and obedient.
He wrapped his arms around Gan Tang’s waist. From an angle the boy couldn’t see, his smile grew increasingly twisted—the corners of his lips stretching so high it seemed they might split all the way to his ears…
“Tang Tang, you have to tell me what to do, okay? If you don’t say it, I won’t know what to do. After all, I’m very obedient—I always listen to Tang Tang.”
Uncle Zhang Er, and Zhang Er’s wife’s younger brother… Their faces were now less than a meter away from Gan Tang.
So close that he could smell it—the earthy stench of the worms within their bodies, mixed with the foul odor of rotting corpses.
[Crack—]
It was like something in his mind had split open.
At that moment, Gan Tang finally gave up struggling.
In sheer terror, he let out a desperate, incoherent scream—
“Make them go away—go away—wuwuwuwu—GO AWAY AHHHHH—”
His words were completely jumbled, nearly unintelligible.
Yet Cen Zibai seemed to take it as a clear command.
“Then I’ll give you a good lick.”
He leaned against Gan Tang’s neck, sounding utterly satisfied.
“Squelch—”
Right beside his ear, a wet, sticky sound echoed.
Then, an unnaturally warm and moist sensation spread across his skin—something was licking him.
Gan Tang squeezed his eyes shut in despair.
At that moment, he knew with absolute certainty—whatever was touching his skin, it was definitely not a human tongue.
Gan Tang realized this with horrifying clarity, yet he was too afraid to turn his head, too afraid to see what it actually was.
As if… as long as he refused to look, he could keep pretending—pretending that he hadn’t noticed the thing beside him, wrapped in Cen Zibai’s skin, openly revealing its inhuman nature.
Cen Zibai licked him… licked him thoroughly.
Something long and slender, slick as a snake, slithered from Gan Tang’s collar down his body. Its slimy, faintly fishy, and thick saliva soaked almost half of his clothes. From time to time, Cen Zibai would even leisurely take a small bite—just enough to leave a faint stinging sensation on his skin, though the circular marks they left were too unsettling to dwell on.
And if there was anything to be thankful for in this nightmare of a night, it was that the disgusting, wet saliva carried a certain peculiar scent.
Just like what had happened earlier at Uncle Xijiao’s house—an invisible barrier seemed to form in the air. The worms that had been relentlessly closing in on Gan Tang abruptly stopped, lingering hesitantly at the edge of this unseen boundary, unable to step any closer.
As the scent gradually spread, even the parasites nested inside the corpses began to scatter.
They tumbled out of the bodies, rolling onto the ground, twisting together into shapeless clusters.
After a while, they started to retreat, as if fleeing for their lives, wriggling back into the corpses they had infested.
Slowly… slowly… just as they had come, they dragged their rotten human shells backward and withdrew into the darkness.
“Huff… huff…”
Only Gan Tang’s ragged breathing remained in the forest.
It was only then that he realized—he had been holding his breath the entire time. Now, as he gasped for air, even his diaphragm ached.
The person pressed against him felt like a wet, heavy blanket, weighing him down.
But Gan Tang didn’t dare move his eyes.
He was terrified that if he so much as twitched, his peripheral vision would catch a glimpse of Cen Zibai’s true face.
His eyes were wide open, straining too hard—or maybe it was sheer terror—but tears began to spill uncontrollably from his eyes.
Yet, before they could fall far, something soft and slender gently licked them away.
