Chapter Thirty-Eight: Rising from the Dead

The way the fat man "came back to life" was truly beyond the pale. His neck was completely broken, his head wobbling on his shoulders like a ball, attached only by a few scraps of scalp. His whole body trembled in a rhythmic shudder. With each spasm, a spurt of clotted blood would unnaturally spray from his chest cavity. The sight was like a grotesque, human-shaped roly-poly doll.

The corpse had risen in utter silence, catching both Wang Hou and me off guard. With the fat man’s head nearly dragging on the ground, there was no way this could be a resurrection—most likely, he’d turned into a "white zongzi" zombie. Anyone would be horrified by such a scene.

Instinctively, Wang Hou and I recoiled, our bodies and necks snapping back as we scrambled several steps away, shrinking our formation until we pressed up against the iron door we’d entered through. All we wanted was to get as far away from this animated corpse as possible—not just because it looked revolting and unnatural, but because it was obviously dangerous.

In my haste, I quickly tossed the Swiss Army knife in my hand to Wang Hou, barking an order, “Open the damn door! If we don’t get out now, Xiao Jiu’er will kill us both!”

Wang Hou caught the knife and, without a word, pressed his face close to the door, holding his breath, no longer sparing the fat man so much as a glance, and began working at the lock.

Watching him, I couldn’t help but feel a surge of admiration—this was professionalism! He truly lived up to his training as a reconnaissance soldier: unflinching in the face of crisis. His steadiness calmed me somewhat. I wanted to say a few words of encouragement, but the fat man wouldn’t allow it.

Just then, as the fat man’s body still only quivered, he suddenly changed—as if sensing we were trying to escape. First, a strange, chilling laugh drifted from deep inside his body.

The sound sent a shiver down my spine, filling me with both shock and dread. The shock came from the fact that, with his head hanging by a thread, the fat man could still laugh. The dread came because the laugh sounded so familiar—wasn’t that Xiao Jiu’er’s laugh?

Realizing this, I instinctively dimmed my phone’s light and shone it directly at the fat man’s corpse. What I saw made everything clear.

“So that’s what’s going on…” I muttered, finally understanding. Bathed in the flashlight’s beam, the fat man’s body was suddenly surrounded by the same "white gu snakes" we’d seen earlier, appearing out of thin air.

Perhaps because these snakes were only half-parasitic, their limbs had atrophied, making them slow and less agile than ordinary snakes. Curiously, they seemed afraid of the light—when I shone my phone on them, all the snakes standing on the ground stiffened upright, swaying as if confused by the sudden brightness.

I breathed a sigh of relief; my fear of the snakes eased a little. They weren’t as formidable as I’d feared. If Wang Hou and I hadn’t been caught off guard earlier, letting one crawl onto our shoulders in the dark, they would have been no threat at all.

I realized that, after all, they were only gu insects; without Xiao Jiu’er’s cunning coordination, their danger was greatly diminished. Still, I didn’t dare let down my guard, for the fat man was still laughing—and what came next was even more terrifying.

As the laughter rumbled from the fat man’s belly, I saw the snakes suddenly move as if responding to a command, slithering in unison toward his body. The moment they touched him, they desperately sought out wounds and gaps, slowly burrowing inside.

Suddenly, I understood—the laughter was a signal from Xiao Jiu’er, broadcast through the fat man’s body, meant to summon the lurking snakes and lure them into his corpse.

I didn’t know why she was doing this, nor what the fat man might be experiencing—but nothing good could come of it. Perhaps she intended to use his corpse to unleash some terrible attack.

For a moment, I even wondered—could these white gu snakes control not only the living, but also the dead? The thought filled me with cold terror; I couldn’t stop trembling. After what Xian Hongye did to me, the psychological scars still lingered. If I were bitten again by the fat man’s mouthful of black, tetracycline-stained teeth—even if I survived, I’d wish I hadn’t.

Yet Wang Hou still hadn’t opened the door. He fumbled with the corkscrew on the Swiss Army knife, probing the keyhole, but it just wouldn’t budge.

With panic rising on both sides, my heart hammered in my chest. More and more snakes poured out from the cracks in Xiao Jiu’er’s floor and from under the bed, my anxiety mounting to a fever pitch.

The only small mercy was that the snakes seemed to ignore Wang Hou and me entirely, fixated solely on the fat man’s shaking corpse, scrambling to burrow into him.

For the moment, the situation was stable. The fat man’s corpse still trembled, sifting like a sieve. He wasn’t making any sudden moves, but no one in their right mind would believe he’d just keep harmlessly swaying there forever. Anyone could see he was about to "erupt."

The longer he remained motionless, the more terrifying he became. Watching this bizarre spectacle, I was on the verge of collapse.

Desperate, I urged Wang Hou, “Can you hurry up? The fat man is building up for something—he’s about to charge…”

“Shut up!” Wang Hou snapped back with only those two words.

I realized I needed to keep quiet; the more I distracted him, the harder it would be for him to open the door.

So I bit my tongue, wedged between Wang Hou and the fat man, helplessly watching as the corpse swelled, stretched by the invading snakes, until it resembled a grotesque, ballooned sphere.

It wasn’t long before the fat man’s body was as round as a ball, the laughter from his belly ceasing, all trace of humanity gone. His belly was grotesquely distended, thin as paper. Though he’d stopped laughing, his skin and bones creaked ominously, as if the swelling mass of gu snakes inside him was about to burst free.

If the snakes did rupture his flesh, wouldn't they all come spurting out?

Suddenly, staring at the fat man's transparent, swollen belly, at the writhing, coiling snakes just beneath the skin, the truth struck me. Xiao Jiu'er’s plan was to have the snakes burst through the fat man's belly, using the pressure of the corpse to fire a hundred-odd gu snakes of various sizes at us in a single, deadly volley—to finish off Wang Hou and me.

I was speechless at such a murderous innovation.

I’d seen what the white gu snakes could do, and to be honest, they weren’t all that impressive. They were slow, weak, and not much threat in a straight-up attack; from my observation, they couldn’t even break human skin without an open wound or an entry point.

But if the fat man’s corpse exploded, sending those snakes flying at us under pressure, that would be another matter entirely.

If a hundred snakes burst at us in unison, propelled by the force of the explosion, there’d be no way to dodge them all. If even one managed to enter Wang Hou or me, it would be the end.

We couldn’t wait any longer.

“Wang Hou!” I shouted. “Get that damn door open! The fat man’s about to explode!”

My words startled Wang Hou as well. He spun around, his face draining of color at the sight of the fat man, and cried out, “What?? Old Tian! Maybe we should think about how to survive this first!”

His words chilled me to the bone. The door couldn’t be opened in time. But we couldn’t die here.

I glanced at the fat man’s swelling belly, knowing he could burst any second. Where could we hide? The room was tiny—the only shelter was… under the bed!

Yes—the bed!

“The bed!” I shouted, pointing at the woman’s ornate bed. “Under the bed! Quick, get in!”

The words were barely out of my mouth before Wang Hou darted forward, dragging me toward the bed. I had to admit, he was quick—without even looking, he broke into a run, dropped to the floor, and slid under the bed with practiced ease, even clearing chairs and stools out of my way as he went.

“Old Tian, come on!” Wang Hou called urgently.

I tried to copy him, but as I slid forward, I found myself slowing to a halt—coming to a stop right beside the fat man’s "bomb" of a body, instead of reaching the safety of the bed.

The injury on my leg had sapped my strength, leaving me drained and powerless. After everything we’d been through, I’d finally hit my limit. I didn’t want to give up, but I had nothing left.

The two or three meters between me and the bed became the boundary between life and death.

Wang Hou was still calling, but I simply couldn’t respond.

At that moment, the pressure that had been building inside the fat man suddenly erupted.

A tremendous force, reeking of putrefaction, rushed toward me.

I was unwilling, but could only resign myself to fate.

Was this truly how it would all end?