Forty Years Later—
Yu Huai declined his subordinate’s offer to accompany him to Fengjing Village in an attempt to curry favor.
The black Cullinan came to a stop at the village entrance—
Or at least, where the village entrance used to be.
Yu Huai took his luggage from his young secretary’s hands. Under the silent gazes of his driver and secretary, he stepped forward, one foot after another, heading deep into the village he had fled from in panic all those years ago.
The closer he got to that thing’s dwelling, the lusher and more overgrown the vegetation became.
Thirty years was more than enough time for the remnants of Xishan’s mountain range to effortlessly erase any trace of human habitation.
The path Yu Huai now walked had been cleared in advance by people his secretary had sent, allowing for barely passable travel.
But on either side of the road, the homes that once stood had long been swallowed by dense trees and wild grass.
Only by looking closely could one barely discern the scattered remnants of crumbling walls and broken foundations.
Yu Huai carried his luggage and walked on at a slow, steady pace.
Even though no complete structures remained, he could still vividly recall in his mind exactly which fallen bricks had once belonged to whose home.
This was Granny Zhang’s house.
This was Uncle Zhang Er’s house.
This was Uncle Xijiao’s house.
This was Old Zhang’s house.
…And, of course, his own home.
Though it had been in ruins even back then, and now, there wasn’t even a single slanted wall or broken tile left to be seen.
—
Yu Huai walked forward without looking sideways.
Only when he passed by the small courtyard where Gan Tang had once stayed did his steps slow, just slightly.
Out of the corner of his eye, he seemed to glimpse a small room.
And in the window, he almost thought he saw a young boy, fresh from the city—
A boy so out of place in the village that he always stayed cooped up in his room, sulking as he played on his phone.
For a moment, Yu Huai even felt that if he were to wave at that window, just like in his memories—
The boy inside might suddenly open it, stick his head out with a startled expression, and ask:
“What are you doing?”
…
“Caw—Caw—Caw—”
A crow suddenly let out a hoarse cry, flapping its wings as it burst out of the undergrowth and soared into the deep sky.
Like a soap bubble popping, the illusion in front of Yu Huai vanished in an instant.
He withdrew his gaze.
Then, gripping his increasingly heavy luggage, he took another step forward.
—
It took Yu Huai some time to climb the back mountain and reach the Flesh-Borrowing Well.
He could still remember how, back then, even while carrying a corpse on his back, he had been able to climb up in mere minutes.
Now, as he stood at the base of the steps, supporting himself with a hand on his thigh and gazing up at the well’s opening, he had to catch his breath for a long while before he could gather enough strength to continue.
The well’s seal stone remained as it had been—
Only, the poem that had once been carved into it had been scraped away.
In its place were eight bold yellow-painted characters:
“TOXIC GAS INSIDE—DO NOT APPROACH.”
Even with specialized tools, moving the stone aside took quite a bit of effort from Yu Huai.
Beads of sweat rolled down his forehead, one by one, as he carefully pried open a small gap—
Then, exhausted, he slumped down at the well’s edge.
He panted for a while, catching his breath, before pulling out a thermos from his luggage and taking a slow sip of tea.
“…Back then, every time I came here, I used to drink Coke.”
Recovering his breath, Yu Huai muttered toward the dark mouth of the well, as if complaining.
“But now, I can’t handle it anymore—just tea for me.”
At this, the graying man suddenly chuckled.
“Speaking of which, the first sip of Coke I ever had was from you. I remember thinking it was so strange, not nearly as good as the old tea stems we had at home.”
“But later, I grew to like Coke. Only, the village didn’t sell it, and the ones you brought ran out. You told me back then—”
“When I go back, I’ll send you some.”
Yu Huai’s voice grew quieter.
“But… in the end, you never got to send it.”
He stared at the well’s opening.
“Gan Tang… are you doing okay down there?”
The well was deep and dark.
Silent.
Yu Huai, however, didn’t seem to mind.
He set his thermos aside and began pulling items from his luggage—
Gifts, brought for an old friend.
A brand-new phone.
Trendy clothes and snacks, the kind young people liked these days—(mostly chosen based on his young secretary’s recommendations).
One by one, Yu Huai tossed them into the well’s depths.
Just like all the years before, there was no echo.
It was as if anything that fell into this well would be utterly devoured by some indescribable force, never to see the light of day again.
Soon, the luggage Yu Huai had carried here was empty.
By the routine of the past forty years, he should have left at this point.
But this time, he sat by the well for a while longer.
He stared intently at the unnaturally narrow opening.
If someone else had been present, they might have been deeply worried that in the next second, Yu Huai would throw himself in.
…Of course, Yu Huai did no such thing.
He simply remained silent for a long time before speaking, one deliberate word at a time, into the well’s darkness.
“I’ve acquired ownership of this entire region.”
“Gan Tang, this time, I plan to blow this place up completely.”
“Even if an explosion might not be enough to destroy that thing’s lair… the entrance—this well—should collapse completely.”
“I was in too much of a rush. Originally, I thought that with the advancement of technology, if I just worked hard enough to make money, one day… But time isn’t on my side.”
At this, Yu Huai let out another soft chuckle and lit a cigarette.
“The doctors say I have about a year left to live. Before I die… the only thing I can do is seal off any possible exits in this area.”
“I… I can’t save you anymore.”
“Tang Boy, I’m sorry.”
“I really… I’m really sorry.”
…
…
…
【It’s… okay…】
Deep underground, several kilometers beneath Yu Huai’s feet—
A pale, lifeless body trembled ever so slightly.
His eyelids fluttered faintly, and from his bloodless lips, a whisper escaped, too soft to be understood.
And with that long-lost flicker of self-awareness, another grotesque, monstrous form instantly stirred to life.
【Ah, crying again?】
【Still sad?】
【Don’t be sad, Tangtang. It’s okay…】
The inhuman, horrifying figure bent down carefully, wiping away the single, glistening tear that had slid from the boy’s embedded face within its open torso.
…Yes, that boy—once Gan Tang—was now growing inside the monster’s hollowed chest, as if he were its pale, beating heart.
Interwoven like tree roots, tangled blood vessels connected what remained of Gan Tang’s body—long since devoured, leaving only a fragment—to the massive, mountain-like creature that had once been Cen Zibai.
And it was precisely because of this that whenever Gan Tang’s mind surfaced from the void of endless dreaming—
“It” could sense everything he thought and felt.
【…You don’t want to part with him forever?】
【How cute.】
【It’s fine. I told you, even if he blows up the whole of Xishan, it doesn’t matter. I’m not like before…】
【This world is full of doors leading to that world.】
【If Tangtang is that sad… then let’s go find him.】
【I can make sure he lives.】
【It’s easy, isn’t it?】
【Shh, Tangtang… As long as it makes you happy… I’ll do anything.】
【Yes, anything.】
As Cen Zibai whispered those syrupy-sweet words, deep within the abyss—
Countless monstrous offspring, identical to the old insect-beasts yet even larger, even more ferocious, even more terrifying—
All, at that same moment, slowly opened their eyes—
For the sake of their gentle, beloved mother.
—“Chapter of Flesh” End
—
Author’s Notes:
It’s finished.
Hahaha, I had a lot of fun writing this one.
I’ve always felt that when it comes to love between monsters and humans, I tend to overthink it and end up adding too much tenderness.
This time, I decided to follow my heart and write the kind of love that, to me, belongs to monsters.
No restraint, no pretense—only greed and desire.
A love so overwhelming that it brings ruin and despair.
And so, these three strange little stories came to be.
Thank you all for sticking with me until the very end.
Love you guys =3=
That said, writing something this dark did mess me up a bit.
So for the next one, I think I’ll switch gears and write something trashy and dramatic to reset my brain.
Something like “A Sweet Sentinel/Guide Novel.”
Yeah. See you in the next story!
Bruh… I think I just got PTSD.