Gan Tang staggered backward uncontrollably, retreating several steps.
Something was wrong.
He thought.
The Flesh Borrowing ritual had indeed succeeded—far more smoothly and quickly than he had expected.
Cen Zibai had died and returned, crawling out of the well and back into the human world.
However, the thing standing in his room right now…
Though it wore Cen Zibai’s skin, it exuded an eerie presence that sent shivers down his spine.
Gan Tang’s heart tightened, his throat unbearably dry.
It was the primal warning instinct buried deep within human nature.
And right now, that instinct was screaming at the top of its lungs in his mind!
A thick stench of decay surged into his nostrils, making him gag.
At that moment, the creature draped in Cen Zibai’s corpse suddenly shuddered and leaned toward him.
The lifeless eyeballs were unfocused, still clouded—like half-cooked egg whites.
A tiny worm, from who knows where, was slowly crawling across the surface of Cen Zibai’s only intact eye.
But just as the worm reached the edge of the eye socket—
The corpse’s eyelid abruptly flipped outward from within.
Something swift, thin, and sharp shot out from behind Cen Zibai’s eyeball, instantly snatching the worm into the depths of the socket.
“Mm—”
Gan Tang let out a low gasp.
And then—
From deep within the corpse’s pitch-black, hollow eye socket, he felt an intense, piercing gaze lock onto him.
This time, Gan Tang was so terrified he didn’t even dare to breathe.
He was exhausted.
He was freezing.
The overwhelming fatigue from his fever and the sheer terror from running all night crashed over him like a monstrous tidal wave.
He wanted to back away—wanted to run—but his body refused to obey.
His legs gave out beneath him.
Gan Tang collapsed onto the ground.
In that very instant—
Thin, writhing “noodles” surged out from Cen Zibai’s eye sockets.
Then—
From his nasal cavity.
His lips.
Those things spewed out from every opening of the humanoid corpse.
Their pale, milky-white bodies were coated in a sticky mucus, exuding a sickly, fishy stench.
And in the blink of an eye—
Those thread-like worms completely engulfed Cen Zibai’s body.
Oh, of course, the corpse was still standing there.
But all traces of humanity had been entirely replaced by the swarming, wriggling mass.
Then—
It slowly lowered itself toward Gan Tang.
The worms squirmed and rubbed against each other, their slimy secretions frothing into pale bubbles.
“Hu… hu… Tang…”
A hoarse, garbled voice echoed from within the monster’s body.
At first, it almost sounded like someone—someone deep inside—was struggling to call Gan Tang’s name.
But…
No.
That was not a human voice.
It was a creature—a grotesque, mindless creature—clumsily mimicking sounds it had once heard.
Something slithered.
Like raindrops, countless worms plopped from the monster’s body, wrapping themselves around Gan Tang’s ankles.
“N-no, stay away from me—!”
Tears, mingled with sweat, streamed down Gan Tang’s face like a flowing river.
He couldn’t care about anything else anymore.
He let out a desperate, bloodcurdling scream.
But in the next second—
“Cen Zibai” had already cupped Gan Tang’s face.
Its head—if that grotesque thing could still be called a head—tilted slightly.
Then—
It lowered itself, pressing directly against Gan Tang’s despair-stricken face.
In an instant—
The worms engulfed him.
They wriggled across his tear-streaked cheeks, sniffing out the overwhelming scent of human fear—then stubbornly, forcefully, they pried into his lips, his nostrils, his eyelids, even his ear canals.
A torrent of worms poured down, forming a damp, suffocating blanket of flesh, completely covering Gan Tang’s body.
“Mm—”
Gan Tang’s throat bobbed, rising slightly.
His mouth was forced open.
He felt them—those slender, slimy creatures—pushing relentlessly down his throat.
And as they filled his nasal cavity—
That smell returned.
The familiar, sickly scent from the well’s opening—
The scent of Borrowed Flesh.
*
Gan Tang, consumed by utter despair and terror, lost consciousness completely.
*
Darkness.
Absolute, all-encompassing darkness.
The labyrinthine tunnels stretched out in all directions, shrouded in darkness. The sound of water trickled from somewhere deep within the underground.
Here, in this absolute, lightless abyss, Gan Tang felt his body slowly stretching out.
Like contractions before birth, the soft flesh encasing him began to pulse and squeeze in a rhythmic motion…
And then, he was expelled from something.
A sudden sensation of cold, wet unfamiliarity engulfed him.
Startled, Gan Tang instinctively tried to retreat back into the “womb” that had once enclosed him, but the moment he touched it, the thing began to disintegrate beneath his fingers—crumbling into fragmented, rotten flesh.
At that instant, beneath the thick layer of mucus, twisted, deformed pale flesh and exposed bones surfaced into Gan Tang’s “vision.”
And at the exact moment he laid eyes on them—
All the malformed heads beneath the translucent skin lifted in unison, their gray-white eyes locking onto him.
Then—
Their faces contorted, twisted in grotesque rage.
A wet, garbled gurgling sound echoed through the cavern, like a deep, abyssal summons from the depths…
[“Tang…”]
[“Tang Tang…”]
—
“Tang Tang? Why are you still not up? The sun’s already high in the sky! Did you stay up late again last night? Come on, get up already. I made longan soup for you this morning…”
His grandmother’s voice pierced through the thick, sticky nightmare, dragging Gan Tang—drenched in cold sweat—back into the brightness of reality.
Gan Tang let out a faint whimper, gasping for breath before abruptly waking up.
“…Tang Tang?”
“G-Grandma… I’m up! I’m up! I’m getting up now!”
Dazed and groggy, Gan Tang instinctively called out toward the door.
A warm breeze drifted in through the open window, carrying with it the incessant, piercing hum of cicadas outside.
The torrential downpour from last night—the one that had seemed as though it would drag everything in existence into the depths of the earth—felt like nothing more than a fever dream.
The glaring sunlight outside was so bright it nearly hurt his eyes.
Ah… it was just a nightmare.
Gan Tang thought hazily.
The whole thing—killing Cen Zibai by accident, carrying his corpse up the mountain in the dead of night, dismembering the body, tossing it into the well… The corpse coming back to life and turning into a writhing mass of worms right in front of him…
…It was all just a nightmare, right?!
But the moment Gan Tang propped himself up to sit, an intense soreness exploded through his muscles, making him shudder violently.
And then—
A cold hand reached out silently, gripping his wrist.
Gan Tang’s breath caught.
His heart pounded so hard it felt like it would burst from his chest.
Slowly, ever so slowly, he turned his head.
And then—
He saw Cen Zibai’s pale face.
—
It was different from the nightmare.
Cen Zibai’s left eye wasn’t a hollow, bloodied hole.
His face wasn’t covered in mud and grime.
There was no nauseating stench of rot.
And, of course, there weren’t any horrifying, writhing worms.
Aside from looking paler than usual, the boy who sat there gazing intently at Gan Tang appeared no different from an ordinary living person.
However, Cen Zibai was wearing a tattered T-shirt.
Originally dark in color, it was now covered in mottled stains.
A faint scent of rain clung to the fabric, and if one concentrated hard enough, there was even a barely perceptible hint of rusted iron.
Gan Tang stared blankly at “Cen Zibai,” his blood running ice cold, unable to move.
And then, the other boy slowly sat up.
“Tang… Tang.”
He stared straight at Gan Tang and called out.
His voice was hoarse and unnatural, his pronunciation stiff—like someone speaking for the very first time.
And now that Gan Tang was looking up close—
A new wave of horror struck him.
Cen Zibai’s left eye was murkier than his right.
And faintly visible—etched onto his left eyelid—was a thin, pale pink scar.
But, regardless…
Cen Zibai’s left eye socket did have a fully intact eyeball.
“You… you—”
Gan Tang should have felt relieved.
He thought.
But for some reason—perhaps because of the lingering effects of the nightmare—he couldn’t stop trembling as he looked at the boy before him.
And yet, as if possessed, despite the overwhelming fear, Gan Tang couldn’t help but raise his hand.
Slowly—hesitantly—he pulled back the collar of the boy’s shirt.
—
A perfectly visible mark encircled Cen Zibai’s neck.
Faintly reddened, like a bizarre collar.
And the moment Gan Tang saw that mark—
Everything from last night came crashing back.
For a brief moment, he was back in that stormy night.
Back at the blood-scented well, raising his hatchet—hacking, again and again, until the blade severed the corpse’s neck.
None of it was a dream.
Even though Gan Tang had no memory of when he had returned home, collapsed into bed, or when his nightmare had blurred into reality…
Now, sitting on his bed and staring at Cen Zibai, he was more certain than ever—
This was not a dream.
Gan Tang’s hand trembled.
He instinctively backed away.
Yet, the moment he retreated, Cen Zibai, expressionless, leaned closer toward him.
The image of the boy in his nightmare—the one who had collapsed into a writhing mass of worms—overlapped with the Cen Zibai before him, lunging toward him.
“Don’t come near me—!”
Gan Tang let out a weak, high-pitched cry.
Panicked, he tumbled off the bed, pain flaring up his tailbone.
But what he didn’t expect was that in the very next second—
Cen Zibai, moving unnaturally like an uncoordinated infant, mimicked him precisely—rolling off the bed in the exact same way.
Then—
With a heavy thud, the boy landed directly on top of him.
His clothes were still damp.
The red mark around his neck deepened with his movement, as if at any moment, his head would once again slip right off his shoulders.
Gan Tang’s mind went blank.
A wave of pure terror crashed over him, sending him into a frantic struggle.
Yet, whether it was due to sheer fear sapping his strength or something unnatural about Cen Zibai’s revived body, the moment the other boy grabbed him—
Gan Tang felt as though his limbs were being clamped down by something cold and mechanical, rendering him completely immobile.
“Tang… Tang.”
Then, Gan Tang heard Cen Zibai call his name.
“Tang… Tang.”
He said it again.
And at that moment, his grandmother’s voice rang from outside the door.
“Tang Tang? What’s going on in there? Did you fall?”
She was right outside.
“Don’t come in!”
Gan Tang shouted instinctively.
“What’s wrong?”
His panic only made her more anxious.
“You didn’t actually fall, did you? Honestly, you’re always so reckless—”
The doorknob turned.
At that moment, Cen Zibai was still pressed down on top of him.
Forget about the boy’s bizarre, mud-stained state—just the way he was pressing his face tightly into Gan Tang’s arm would raise too many questions.
If his grandmother saw this—he was done for.
Gan Tang felt his insides twist into knots.
Fortunately—
Just as the door cracked open a sliver, a piercing scream echoed from beyond their courtyard wall, coming from Uncle Zhang’s house.
“I don’t want to—I don’t want to! Don’t touch me—ahhhh! Let me go! Let me go—mmmph—!!!”
The voice belonged to a young woman.
But it was hoarse from screaming, sharp and jagged, like a rusted saw scraping against flesh.
The scream only lasted a few seconds before it was abruptly silenced.
Gan Tang, living right next door, could barely make out the muffled sobbing that followed, as if someone had forcibly covered the girl’s mouth.
Moments later, an urgent pounding came from their courtyard gate.
An elderly voice—tense and anxious—called out his grandmother’s name.
His grandmother’s movements paused.
Gan Tang swallowed, forced his throat to loosen, and quickly called out:
“Grandma, I’m fine! I just dropped my phone. I’m not dressed, don’t come in—”
As expected, his grandmother immediately turned her attention away.
Her shuffling footsteps receded into the yard, muttering indistinctly in their local dialect.
A few minutes later, she called out from outside:
“Tang Tang, I have to go out for a bit!”
Then, after a brief pause, she added:
“Things outside are messy right now. You and Xiao Cen stay inside, don’t go out.”
She left in a hurry.
Before Gan Tang could respond, he heard the creak of the courtyard gate closing—
And then—
A distinct click of the lock turning.
His grandmother had locked the gate from the outside.
On any other day, Gan Tang would have found this behavior strange.
But right now—
He had far bigger concerns.
Because—
Cen Zibai had started sniffing his face like a dog.
Slowly, he trailed his nose along Gan Tang’s cheek, inhaling deeply—
And then, to Gan Tang’s absolute horror—
He extended his tongue and licked the corner of his eye.
Gan Tang had shed reflexive tears earlier from his fall.
Now, Cen Zibai’s downcast eyes were focused solely on licking up the salty remnants.
Goosebumps erupted all over Gan Tang’s skin.
For a moment, it was as if he had been dragged back to the past—
Smack—
Before he could even process it, Gan Tang’s hand had moved on instinct.
He slapped Cen Zibai hard.
The crisp sound echoed in the room.
Even Gan Tang was stunned.
He hadn’t expected it to land.
In the past, unless Cen Zibai was deliberately provoking him for some twisted amusement, he would always evade Gan Tang’s attacks with perfect precision.
But what truly shocked Gan Tang was Cen Zibai’s reaction now.
After the slap, the boy froze.
He seemed startled, moving sluggishly as he raised a hand to touch his own face.
He looked utterly confused—
His cloudy eyes flickering with bewilderment.
Then—
A few crystal-clear tears spilled from his eyes.
“Tang… Tang Tang hit me.”
His lips trembled.
After a long pause, he choked out:
“…Tang Tang doesn’t like me.”
He came to his conclusion.
—
Gan Tang: “……?”
