“Cen Zibai” had changed.
Had he grown tired of pretending to be an idiot? Or was it something else…? Either way, from the boy’s murmurs just now, it was clear that he had completely shed that previous naive clumsiness.
His voice gave Gan Tang an overwhelming sense of pressure.
A dangerous premonition made Gan Tang’s heart pound so violently in his chest that it hurt. For a brief moment, he realized that he was so terrified of the other person that he couldn’t even move his fingers. The only thing he could do was endure the trembling of his body and fix his gaze on the tall boy before him.
Then, he saw it—deep within “Cen Zibai’s” black pupils, something seemed to be trembling—no, not trembling, but writhing.
The dim yellow light spilling from the bedroom lamp happened to cast a glow on Cen Zibai’s face, making his eyes unusually clear. But Gan Tang would have preferred that the light be just a bit dimmer…
Because he could see it—inside Cen Zibai’s eyes, as if something was writhing.
“Tang Tang?”
Perhaps because Gan Tang had remained silent for too long, “Cen Zibai” tilted his head slightly and called out to him in a sticky, lingering tone.
As he tilted his head, the light vanished from his eyes.
Now, both of his pupils were as dark as deep wells.
“Smack—”
The next second, Gan Tang slapped Cen Zibai across the face.
Suppressing the wild thumping of his heart, he fixed the other with an icy gaze.
“What does that have to do with you?”
Gan Tang lowered his voice and shouted, putting up a front of strength despite his fear.
…He acted as if he hadn’t noticed anything strange about “Cen Zibai” at all.
This was the decision Gan Tang had made in that fleeting moment—no matter what kind of thing had crawled out of that well, borrowing Cen Zibai’s skin after coming back from the dead, it was better for it to keep pretending to be an idiot than to drop the act altogether.
Sure enough, after the slap, Cen Zibai was momentarily stunned by Gan Tang’s reaction. The eerie chill surrounding him instantly dissipated, and “Cen Zibai” picked up his mask again—he looked as if he had no idea why he had been hit again. Then, he lifted a hand and blankly covered his cheek.
The tall, handsome boy—whose entire being exuded an unnatural presence—blinked at Gan Tang. And in the span of a moment, his once oppressive gaze turned misty and aggrieved.
Yet that damp, glistening look was like a slug, sticking firmly to Gan Tang.
“Of course it has to do with me.”
The boy’s face was slightly red as he murmured:
“I like you.”
“I like you very, very much.”
“From the moment I saw you, I knew I wanted to be with you forever. I want to build a family with you…”
…
“Do you even hear the absolute nonsense you’re spouting?”
Gan Tang let out a cold, mocking laugh without the slightest trace of mercy.
Although his palms were now drenched in cold sweat from fear, and his muscles were so tense that he was nearly trembling, at least in terms of attitude, Gan Tang still stood in an absolutely dominant position.
He even directly slammed Cen Zibai against the wall, then lifted his chin and spoke to him, enunciating each word clearly.
“If I hear that kind of disgusting talk again, I’ll cut off your tongue—”
But before he could finish his threat, Gan Tang was forced to abruptly retreat.
He stared in shock at the boy who was a head taller than him.
After hearing his words, Cen Zibai obediently opened his mouth and stuck out his slender, moist tongue.
…That tongue was eerily dexterous, so unnaturally long that it didn’t look human at all—more like something belonging to a reptile.
“Mm… sure…”
Maintaining the posture with his tongue extended, Cen Zibai mumbled indistinctly.
A drop of thick saliva dripped from the tip of his tongue.
He looked at Gan Tang, his dark eyes filled with a sickly-sweet joy.
“Do you want my tongue?”
As he spoke, “Cen Zibai” even glanced around, as if looking for something.
Something was wrong.
Something was very, very wrong.
Gan Tang stared at Cen Zibai in horror.
He felt a chill run down his spine—he could not have mistaken the look in Cen Zibai’s eyes just now. It was as if he had sincerely accepted that Gan Tang could cut off his tongue, and not only that, but he was genuinely happy about it… or rather… excited.
Gan Tang had no doubt that if “Cen Zibai” had been able to find a knife just now, he probably would have cut off his own tongue right then and there—
Then, he would have given it to Gan Tang.
This thing was absolutely, absolutely not normal.
What on earth… was this thing?
What did it want?!
“Cen Zibai” was still staring intently at Gan Tang, as if waiting for his response—
Gan Tang’s heart pounded like a drum, cold sweat soaking his back.
His instincts screamed that his next move was crucial—one misstep, and things could spiral out of control. But his mind had already gone blank; he had no idea how to safely handle this situation.
He couldn’t show weakness, because that would make this thing push its advantage instantly. But he also couldn’t continue acting violently dominant, because any act of aggression toward “Cen Zibai” would be twisted into some sort of perverse pleasure for him.
Facing him, Gan Tang was utterly at a loss…
Luckily, it was as if the heavens had heard his silent prayers.
In the next moment, a bloodcurdling scream suddenly pierced the still night, shattering the suffocating tension that hung over Fengjing Village.
And that unmistakably female scream came from the direction of Uncle Zhang Er’s house.
“Help, help! Ahhhhh—!”
One hour earlier—
At Uncle Zhang Er’s house.
Night had fallen, and by this time, most of the villagers should have been fast asleep.
Chen Li was not asleep.
She lay on the hard bed, turned her head, and stared fixedly at the man beside her.
She no longer remembered how long she had been watching him—perhaps several hours. Her gaze traced his features and figure carefully. Though she had been “married” to this man for over a year now, this was the first time she had ever taken the initiative to truly look at him.
The man who, in name, was her husband.
She didn’t know if it was just her imagination, but the longer she looked, the stranger he seemed to become.
In her memory, this man was crude and ignorant. His features were barely passable, but his murky eyes always carried a kind of primitive viciousness.
During her early days in Fengjing Village, Chen Li had frequently woken up in the middle of the night, only to meet his eerie, gleaming gaze in the darkness.
He was afraid she would run away (she had tried to escape a few times), so even in his sleep, he would keep one eye open, his mind always half-alert to her movements.
But now, this man lay utterly still, unmoving, like a dead pig.
In fact, he truly looked… dead.
Chen Li had a keen sense of smell since childhood, and she could faintly detect the scent of decay seeping from his pores.
Moreover, it seemed like—his breathing had completely stopped.
Chen Li’s eyes widened in the darkness, fixing on his chest.
There was no rise and fall.
Wait… was he really dead?
Her pupils shrank abruptly, and her palms were drenched in cold sweat.
Fortunately, she had carefully wrapped the handle of the kitchen knife with cloth, so even with her hands so slippery, she wouldn’t lose her grip.
“Zhang Er?”
Sweat dripped from her temples down into her ears. She stared at Zhang Er, her heart hammering against her ribs.
Unable to resist, she called out to him very, very softly.
The man lying in bed remained motionless.
Chen Li swallowed hard.
Finally, she couldn’t hold back any longer—
Slowly, ever so slowly, she began to crawl out of bed.
She raised her hand, the blade of the kitchen knife—sharpened to a gleaming edge from constant use—aimed directly at Zhang Er’s neck. This was her best chance, Chen Li thought. When Zhang Er returned from the mountain earlier that day, his hands were completely swollen, and he had been acting sluggish and clumsy, as if he had fallen gravely ill. The plan she had plotted for so long had suddenly been given the perfect opportunity for execution. She didn’t dare hesitate any longer—she was afraid that if she waited a few more days, Zhang Er would recover, and if that happened, she might never get another chance to strike…
A drop of sweat fell into her eye, and a sharp sting suddenly spread through it.
Only then did Chen Li realize that her hand was trembling.
Tears welled up, and she began to hate herself—why was she trembling, why was she afraid? That man was already dead. Look, he wasn’t even snoring tonight. Maybe he was already dead. His hand injury was too severe; he might have died from sepsis. Even if he wasn’t dead now, he would die soon enough.
He was going to die either way.
A voice seemed to whisper in her ear.
It sounded a lot like Chen Cheng.
Dizziness swam through her vision.
Her arm was getting weak from holding the knife up for so long… Zhang Er and that old hag—though they no longer chained her up with iron shackles—still wouldn’t let her leave the house. Worse yet, they never let her eat her fill. They had starved her down to nothing but a bundle of dry twigs that couldn’t even catch fire, and only then were they satisfied.
The blade pressed gently against Zhang Er’s neck.
His skin was severely swollen with edema, and the blade sank in with ease.
“…Hmm? What… Take your hand off.”
To Chen Li’s surprise, the man she had believed to be dead frowned slightly and shifted in his sleep. He seemed to find his neck itchy and grumbled impatiently.
As he spoke, a gust of air escaped from his body, carrying with it a nauseating stench.
A loud buzzing filled Chen Li’s mind. For that brief moment, she failed to react, and the blade left a long, deep cut across Zhang Er’s neck. Strangely, not much blood flowed out.
But Zhang Er was awake now.
His murky eyes opened and blinked dazedly at the woman beside him.
His mind was sluggish, his reaction slow.
At first, he didn’t even register what the woman was trying to do. He only noticed that under the moonlight, her eyes were red.
So red, they looked as if they might drip blood.
…
Squelch—
The moment Chen Li met Zhang Er’s gaze, she knew she couldn’t hesitate anymore.
Back then, when her younger brother had risked everything to find her and begged her to leave with him, she had hesitated for just a moment—afraid that running away would bring shame to her family, afraid that she would never be able to return home… and because of that moment of hesitation, Chen Cheng had been discovered.
The drunken men in the house swarmed upon him. Her brother barely had time to cry for help before he collapsed to the ground.
She had been pinned down by those old hags, her mouth covered, forced to watch helplessly as blood pooled beneath her brother’s body…
She would not hesitate again.
Because ever since that night, her brother had been sobbing at her window every night.
[“Jie, it hurts.”]
[“It hurts so much, I’m dying…”]
…
The cleaver sank deep into Zhang Er’s neck.
Strangely, the man hardly struggled at all.
He only stared blankly at the woman above him, his throat letting out a few indistinct gurgles.
Thick, putrid blood poured out. His body convulsed for a moment, then gradually fell still.
At first, Chen Li thought nothing of it. She assumed that perhaps Heaven had finally opened its eyes, or maybe… maybe her brother’s spirit was watching over her, protecting her.
But in the next moment, an itch crawled up her hand.
She instinctively shook it off, and as she lowered her gaze—she saw them.
Countless thin, white worms, slowly wriggling their way out from the gaping wound on Zhang Er’s neck, oozing forth like the tiny mouths of an infant.
