The night was deep and silent, the dull sound of a shovel swinging echoed through the mountains.
Huang Wenxuan had been digging for nearly half an hour, finally managing to dig a deep pit big enough to fit an adult man.
Panting heavily, he tossed aside the shovel, wiped the filthy sweat from his forehead, and turned to look at the corpse lying nearby.
The body was already cold, its skin deathly pale, blood congealed at the gaping wound on the neck, attracting swarms of butterflies feasting eagerly.
They say some species of butterflies like to drink blood—he never thought it would actually be true.
Huang Wenxuan had no time to marvel at this oddity. He raised his hand to wipe the sweat from his eyelids, and without pausing for breath, hurriedly dragged the corpse toward the pit.
No matter what, this was still a corpse—he had no desire to linger in such a creepy place with a dead body.
Earlier, in his panic to save himself, he hadn’t realized how sturdy this guy was. He looked tall and thin, but carrying him was surprisingly heavy.
Luckily, he’d given him another stab just now. Otherwise, with a body like that, he might have managed to hold on for a while longer.
Feeling both relieved and exhausted, Huang Wenxuan shoveled dirt back into the pit, grunting and sweating. After another round of hard work, he finally finished burying the corpse.
To avoid discovery, he even pulled up some weeds and scattered them over the spot, trying to make it look untouched.
After finishing all this, he tidied up his tools, put on his mask and hood, and quietly made his way down the mountain alone.
The mountain returned to deathly silence.
The swarming butterflies, having lost their food source, lingered for a while above the burial site, then gradually fluttered away on their own.
He Shuliu lay quietly beneath the damp, cold earth—no breath, no heartbeat, no sign of life.
But strangely, he was still conscious.
He could hear the rustling of insects crawling through the soil, smell the thick scent of blood and earth, see the butterfly scales seeping into his eyes, and feel the piercing pain radiating from every part of his body.
Could someone without a heartbeat still feel pain?
He Shuliu didn’t know. He only knew that his current state was even more agonizing than death.
He even wished that man would come back and stab him again—so he could finally lose consciousness for good.
His neck hurt, his eyes hurt, his arms hurt, his ribs hurt………………
His whole body hurt so much he wished he could chop himself to pieces.
Why hadn’t he died?
Why was he still not dead?
If only he could die completely.
But… if he died, he’d never see Yan Yan again.
It seemed like all the blood in his body had drained away.
He Shuliu lay in endless darkness, his mind dulled by pain, yet the image of Yu Yan’s face surfaced uncontrollably in his mind.
He didn’t want to be separated from her.
He still wanted to see her, still wanted to be with her.
In that instant, the pain seemed to intensify, a fine, prickling agony gnawing at his nerves—not from shattered bones, but from his limbs and flesh.
He Shuliu couldn’t move his eyes; he could only judge from the sounds and sensations that insects in the soil were tearing at him, biting and gnawing.
If this went on, even if he somehow remained conscious, he’d soon be picked clean by the mosquitoes, snakes, and ants down here.
I have to hold on… No matter how much it hurts, I have to hold on.
Until I see Yan Yan again.
Huang Wenxuan returned home, terrified.
His wife, woken by the noise, sleepily asked why he was back so late. He brushed her off with a few vague words, then locked himself in the storage room.
He’d run someone over—and buried that person in the wilderness.
If the police ever found out, his life would be ruined.
But it was too late for regret now. All he could do was pray to the heavens that he’d make it through this disaster unscathed.
And so, Huang Wenxuan spent the week in constant anxiety.
But when he realized that nothing in his life had changed, and the police hadn’t come knocking, his nerves gradually settled, and he stopped overthinking.
He thought, I really am lucky.
Once this whole thing was over, he’d definitely go to a temple and offer incense to the Buddha, to thank the old man for his protection.
But just when he thought he was finally safe, a weather report suddenly threw him into a panic.
It was a local forecast for Fuyin City, warning of heavy rain tonight, with possible mudslides and other disasters near the mountains.
Citizens were advised to stay away from dangerous areas and ensure their safety.
That wretch was buried up in the mountains—if a mudslide really happened, would the corpse be washed out by the rain?
The more Huang Wenxuan thought about it, the more uneasy he became. He sat in dread until nightfall, finally deciding to go to Andu Mountain to check things out.
He took a waterproof brown jacket from the wardrobe, found gloves and a hiking pack, and, waiting until his wife was sound asleep, slipped out quietly.
Just as the weather report said, the rain kept getting heavier.
By the time Huang Wenxuan reached the mountain, the trails were drenched and muddy, making it hard to walk.
Holding up a flashlight, he struggled for a long time before finally finding the burial spot.
The weeds he’d scattered on top were long gone, washed away by the downpour.
The soggy earth had sunken slightly, exposing clusters of tiny, shriveled dead insects.
Huang Wenxuan swallowed nervously, a strange fear rising in his heart.
Why were there so many dead bugs here? Where had they all come from?
Was this really where he’d buried the body? Could he have gotten the wrong place?
The more he thought, the less certain he became. So he took out his shovel, deciding to check for himself.
Thanks to the rain, the soil was easy to dig this time. After just ten minutes, Huang Wenxuan saw the blood-stained corner of a shirt.
Thank goodness, he hadn’t gotten it wrong.
Just in case, he decided to dig a deeper pit.
Resolved, Huang Wenxuan braved the downpour and kept digging. With his efforts, the dirt covering the corpse grew thinner and thinner, gradually revealing that deathly pale face.
Under the dim moonlight, raindrops pelted He Shuliu’s face, making his skin look even paler and colder, a kind of eerie, translucent stillness.
Huang Wenxuan stared at the scene, eyes wide in disbelief.
This guy had clearly been dead for so long, so why was there no sign of rigor mortis or decay? He looked as fresh as when he was alive.
This was too strange……………
Unable to resist, Huang Wenxuan cautiously leaned closer, wanting to examine what was so unusual about this corpse.
At that moment, He Shuliu—who had lain so still, as if asleep—suddenly opened his eyes.
Huang Wenxuan gasped, stumbling back in terror.
The next second, a long, pale hand passed through his chest, pulling out something dripping with blood.
Huang Wenxuan stared dumbly down, his gaze dropping—
That warm, bloody thing was his heart.
“You… Are you human… or a ghost………………”
A terrified question rasped from his throat. He swayed, and before he could hear an answer, collapsed heavily to the ground.
He Shuliu tossed aside the heart, braced his hands on the muddy earth, and slowly crawled out of the pit.
His shirt was stained black-brown with blood, his body covered in wounds large and small.
His neck was a gory mess, a nearly-penetrating hole gaping at the side of his throat.
Lowering his lashes, he looked at Huang Wenxuan lying in the rain, half-kneeled down, and pressed his hand to the man’s bleeding chest.
The moment his hand touched, all the flowing blood seemed to be drawn by some invisible force, gathering into his palm.
At the same time, his body began to change.
Those hideous wounds healed at a speed visible to the naked eye—flesh and skin regrowing, exposed broken bones miraculously fusing back together.
In no time at all, he was completely restored, flawless.
And Huang Wenxuan, whose blood he’d drained, was now nothing but a shriveled, withered corpse.
Just like those insects.
He Shuliu straightened up, his figure gradually tall and upright, slender as bamboo in the night.
Moonlight refracted by the heavy rain fell on him, illuminating his eyes—jet black, yet utterly devoid of any shine.
He glanced at his hands, blood running down with the rain, the iron scent thick in the air.
Was he human? Or a ghost?
What exactly was he now?
He didn’t know, and didn’t care.
He only knew—he’d survived.
Maybe he was already dead, but that didn’t matter.
What mattered was, he could see Yan Yan again.
He would return to her side, just like before, and keep being with her.
Nothing would ever change.