Chapter Fifty: She Once Lived

The old man’s eyes were wide and bulging, his outstretched left hand curled as if unable to bear the weight of the few pieces of flesh it held. Seeing his appearance, the dozens of people around him fixed their gazes intently on his hand.

Jiang Wan tugged lightly at Chen Qing’s sleeve, her eyes full of revulsion. She took half a step back; who knew what kind of thing this so-called “Flesh of the Tai Sui” truly was.

“Shall we go?” she whispered, but despite tugging his sleeve twice, Chen Qing showed no reaction at all.

He stood before the group, a faint smile on his lips, seemingly indifferent to the attention on the flesh in his hand. Instead, he rummaged in his pocket for a while, and after feeling something soft, he lowered his head and, covering his face with his palm, popped the object into his mouth.

He cheerfully stepped forward and nodded. “Eat? Then let’s give it a try.”

His words came out somewhat muffled, leaving Jiang Wan puzzled by his manner of speaking.

Though she did not understand Chen Qing’s actions, she didn’t interfere with what came next.

The old man’s mouth stretched in a grin that reached his ears. He mumbled unintelligibly, then grabbed Chen Qing’s forearm with his free hand, his gaze sharp, his smile tinged with cruelty. His fingers dug deep into Chen Qing’s skin, leaving five stark marks.

Chen Qing did not resist; instead, still smiling, he accepted the Tai Sui flesh from the old man’s hand.

Under the watchful eyes of the assembly, he placed the piece of flesh, white as jade, into his mouth. He chewed for a while, his throat audibly swallowing. When he had finished, everyone’s gaze shifted to Jiang Wan. They stared at her, saliva already trickling from torn corners of their mouths.

“Come…” the old man looked at her, enunciating each word, “eat it... and all your dreams will come true.”

He spoke softly, his fingers caressing the lump of Tai Sui he had treasured in life, his eyes full of the adoration one reserves for a lover.

Gently, he tore off a tiny piece—much smaller than what he gave Chen Qing—and handed it to Jiang Wan.

They all stared at Jiang Wan, their eyes unwavering. The small piece of flesh quivered between the old man’s fingers, but before he could say anything, before the words could even form in his mouth, Chen Qing’s fingers reached out, pinched the morsel from his hand, and popped it into his mouth. He chewed a couple of times, swallowed, and looked at the old man with a smile.

The old man squinted, arm still raised, and gave Chen Qing a half-hearted smile. “Don’t let it happen again.”

He spoke quietly, then turned and began to tear at the body of the Tai Sui, his movements now much rougher. He ripped off large, fatty chunks and handed them to the others.

But once distributed, none of them ate on the spot.

They cradled the flesh in both hands, their noses pressed close, inhaling its scent. Although their faces were flushed and saliva leaked from their open mouths, they made no move to eat.

They only fondled the flesh, reluctant to part with it, returning to their rooms with longing.

After the crowd dispersed, the old man lingered in the tulou courtyard. He gazed reverently at the white Tai Sui on the altar, bowed his head, clasped his hands, and bent his knees. When they touched the ground, his forehead followed, and in an instant, blood splattered across the floor.

He kowtowed. “Bang.”

“Bang.”

“Bang.”

He rose slowly before the altar, smiling softly. “Just wait a little longer... wait for me a while longer...” His expression was filled with love.

“I’ll come to you very soon...”

With that, he ignored Chen Qing and Jiang Wan behind him and headed straight to his room on the second floor.

Once everyone had left, Jiang Wan, no longer needing to hide her panic, grabbed Chen Qing’s arm. When he turned, she saw what he spit from his mouth.

“You…”

She stared at the familiar-looking object in his hand. After a moment’s recollection, the name came to her, and her cheeks flushed red.

“Wait, why would you carry that with you? Weren’t you at the company office with Kalanth?”

She tapped the back of Chen Qing’s hand, half scolding.

“Oh, well, there’s a hotel next to the office building. They give out free condoms at the entrance. I just grabbed a couple.”

He grinned, showing little embarrassment, and went on, “I thought I could use them as water pouches or something. Never thought they’d come in handy for this.”

Indeed, in Chen Qing’s hand were two slices of Tai Sui flesh, sealed away by layers of latex.

The Tai Sui flesh was incredibly soft, like some kind of swollen, waterlogged fungus.

After dealing with the Tai Sui in the condoms, Jiang Wan and Chen Qing quickly averted their eyes from the flesh.

They followed the path the four investigators had taken, arriving at their door. After knocking gently, the only reply from inside was a fit of maniacal laughter.

They pushed open the door, but saw nothing especially bizarre.

The investigator lay sprawled on the bed, limbs splayed in the shape of a star, mouth stretched in a laugh, eyes rolled skyward, fingers twitching rapidly.

Frowning, Chen Qing approached the bed and searched the investigator’s belongings, but after a long search, found nothing.

“No legacy artifacts?” Chen Qing was puzzled. “Or maybe they knew they couldn’t leave and handed everything over to someone else.”

He thought for a moment, then checked the back door and the other three investigators’ rooms. In each, the situation was much the same.

Even the investigator Chen Qing had killed earlier was no different.

He lay on the bed, his face flaking off in small patches.

Chen Qing touched his cheek; a thick layer of fragments peeled away beneath his finger, revealing a whiter patch underneath. The flakes were like rotted newspaper, or wood bored through by termites.

“Is it because of that Tai Sui?” Jiang Wan asked curiously, but with a hint of worry in her eyes.

“It must be...” he murmured, taking out the piece of Tai Sui from his pocket and examining it. “But his condition seems different.”

“This stuff might be hallucinogenic?”

Jiang Wan added, “It seems they all depend on it to live.”

Chen Qing nodded and, calling to Jiang Wan, continued along the small corridor at the back of the rooms, heading upstairs.

After a short walk, they reached the far end of the second floor, standing before the room where the old man once lived. The door was covered in countless knife marks, making them uneasy.

The marks had been struck from inside, each one in a place it shouldn’t have been, as if someone had hacked at themselves.

“Was he controlled by someone?” Chen Qing frowned, shaking his head.

He was about to speak when, suddenly, a figure burst through the door with a thunderous crash, and in an instant, was upon them.

They had no time to react—before their eyes, the figure shot forward, and all they could hear was a second deafening crash right by their ears. The booming sound filled the entire corridor, morphing into tinnitus and pain.

When the figure finally came to a halt, Chen Qing’s mouth was already overflowing with blood.

His face turned pale, a hand pressing against it, gripping his head and slamming it against the wall.

He struggled, peering through the gaps between the fingers, but could only make out a thin silhouette.

Turning his gaze, he saw that Jiang Wan was hurt even worse. Her skull was visibly caved in.

She was gasping, but exhaled more than she inhaled.

“Jiang Wan... Jiang Wan!”

He struggled, his voice for the first time filled with panic.

“Jiang Wan! Hey!”

He screamed, his regenerative powers surging, his arm erupting with unnatural strength.

But before he could break free, before he could even move his gaze a fraction, he still didn’t know who held him.

All he could hear was the faint breathing by his ear, the sound echoing alongside a soft laugh. Then he heard Jiang Wan’s voice.

“I... can’t go on with you any longer, can I?”

He looked desperately to the side, his fingernails peeling back, blood soaking the floor beneath him.

The flesh on his fingers was worn away; beside him, the beautiful woman had her head crushed. Her skull, mixed with white and red fluids and large, tofu-like chunks of brain matter, was scattered across the ground.

He watched as Jiang Wan’s eyeball rolled slowly on the floor, the fluid inside shimmering, showing the last traces of life.

“Jiang Wan!”

He screamed, blood on his teeth, but before him he could see only the palm that held him fast.

He felt the pressure on his face increasing, blood seeping from the corners of his eyes.

“You won’t die... You absolutely won’t die... I will save you...”

He whispered, and in that dazed moment, felt something warm slip down his throat.

He froze for a moment—the hand on his face let go.

Looking up, he saw the hunched figure before him, smiling faintly, blood at the corners of his mouth, tongue licking away the traces—traces that belonged to Jiang Wan’s brain.