"Alright. Tell me. I'll remember it," I replied.
My father suddenly stood up and said, "Atong, I'm going to bury you alive."
My face went pale. My lips trembled as I stared at my father in disbelief.
"Bury me? Alive? Why?"
My father gripped my shoulders with both hands and said emotionally:
"I want you to live. Even if everyone in the village dies, I'll make sure you survive.
"You're the only heir of our family, so I'll do everything in my power to keep you alive.
"I've already arranged everything. Don't worry. Just do as I say. Trust your father, alright?"
Looking into my father's steadfast eyes, I nodded for no reason at all.
Then my father said, "Listen. That coffin was specially made by me. It has two layers.
"I'll put you in the bottom layer. When you wake up, feel toward the upper right above your head.
"Find a protruding little wooden block, then pull it out hard. It's fitted together with mortise-and-tenon joints.
"As long as you pull out that little protruding block, the coffin boards above your head in that layer will fall away piece by piece.
"Then feel around the dirt layer with your hands. If you find a thin hose—
"Use the hose as the center and dig the dirt on both sides inward. The soil there is very loose, so you can dig through it.
"But under no circumstances can you pull that hose. It's there to supply you with oxygen.
"If you pull it off, you might suffocate to death inside.
"You must remember this. Once you've dug through, crawl out through the hole.
"Then go home and get the things I prepared for you beneath your bed.
"I've written down how to use them. The instructions are tucked into those two books we usually used to prop up the table leg.
"After you get out and return home, read the note in the first volume.
"Once you've safely escaped, read the note in the second volume. I wrote all of this on my way back today."
After saying that, my father asked if I had remembered everything.
I nodded and said I had.
My father was still a little worried, so he had me repeat everything he had just said.
I repeated my father's words back to him without missing a single word.
Only then did my father nod approvingly and pull a small bottle from his pocket.
It contained some reddish-brown liquid. He handed it to me and told me to drink it.
I steeled myself, took it, and drank it in one gulp. My father wouldn't hurt me—that was what I thought.
After drinking it, my head became muddled and my eyelids grew incredibly heavy.
It was like pulling several all-nighters at an internet café. I could have fallen asleep anywhere.
Just as I was about to lose consciousness, I suddenly remembered that I was running away—but what about my father? What would happen to him?
"Dad, what about you?"
"It's fine. When the time comes, I'll come find you," my father replied.
Before I could even answer him, I knew nothing more.
I didn't know how long had passed before I woke up in a daze. Breathing was a little difficult, and it was unbearably hot and stuffy.
Sweat rolled down my forehead and into my eyes. I wanted to open them and look around.
But some of the sweat had, more or less, gotten into my eyes.
A sharp stinging pain immediately spread through them, and I became much more awake.
I remembered what my father had said before I fell asleep. I remembered him saying he had buried me.
Panic seized me. I kicked and flailed wildly, shouting at the top of my lungs, but after shouting for a while, I realized it was useless.
And I found it even harder to breathe than before. Maybe the oxygen was running out.
I told myself to stay calm, to stay calm no matter what. After a while, my entire body relaxed.
Then I slowly recalled my father's words. "Little wooden block."
Right, the little wooden block. I immediately reached toward the upper right above my head.
After feeling around a few times, I really did find a protruding little block. I grabbed it and pulled hard, but nothing happened.
I froze for a moment, then tried several more times. Still nothing.
Maybe I wasn't strong enough, I thought. The little block was too small, and I couldn't get any leverage with both hands.
So I gripped the block with my left hand, then grabbed my left hand with my right.
Then I pulled with all my strength. With a creak, the little wooden block came free.
I tried pushing the coffin board above my head. Sure enough, the coffin board in my layer fell away piece by piece.
I took a deep breath, and my breathing immediately felt much easier.
Delighted, I began feeling around in the dirt and found a thin hose. Then, with great difficulty, I turned over.
Like a groundhog, I started digging through the dirt on both sides of the hose. I dug like that for more than ten minutes.
The stuffy heat, the sweat mingling with the earthy stench of dirt—none of it was pleasant in the slightest.
Suddenly, my hand hit empty space.
Did I get through? I asked myself.
I reached my hand out to test it. Sure enough, I had broken through. Without another word, I crawled toward the hole.
The opening was rather small, so I pressed both hands against its sides and kicked back and forth with both feet.
After crawling for several minutes, I reached a much larger space.
The moment my feet touched the ground, I felt much more secure. I immediately looked around.
The lighting was poor and my vision was blurry, but I could vaguely make out that this might be a burial chamber.
Other than a few rotten wooden boards on the ground, there was nothing else.
I looked up again and saw a hole slanting upward.
Vines crawled over the entrance, while flecks of moonlight spilled down through it.
Directly beneath the hole, I saw something with a glossy sheen.
I walked over and picked it up. It was a package wrapped in waxed paper.
The old-fashioned kind of ordinary paper brushed with a layer of butter, somewhat waterproof but not for long.
I tore it open and found a flashlight inside. I pressed the switch, but nothing happened.
After patting it a couple of times, it lit up. It was the old aluminum kind that took two batteries.
There were also several large flatbreads and a water pouch.
Without even thinking, I stuffed the food into my mouth in huge, ravenous bites, then opened the water pouch and gulped down more than half of it.
Full and satisfied, I collapsed onto the ground like a heap of mud.
I had no idea what time it was. Then my father's words drifted through my mind again.
"Time."
Right, the time. I hurriedly got up and patted myself all over.
I wouldn't have known if I hadn't touched them, but the moment I did, all ten of my fingers burned with pain.
I shone the flashlight on them and inwardly cried out, Well, damn.
All ten fingernails were cracked, with blood and dirt plastered over them in a thick layer.
Maybe I had been too nervous then, focused only on crawling out as quickly as possible, so I hadn't felt the pain.
I sucked in a cold breath and trembled as I searched my body.
I found an electronic watch. It was two-thirty in the morning.
I roughly calculated the time. From waking up to finding the little block, digging through the dirt, crawling out, and eating—
It had taken around half an hour. That meant I had less than half an hour left.
I hurriedly climbed toward the opening. A blast of cold wind hit me, and I shuddered.
Then I got my bearings and realized I was on a small slope beside the graveyard on the mountain behind the village.
I rushed home. As I passed through the graveyard, I noticed holes in every grave.
There were holes in the ground too, densely packed together. My scalp went numb at the sight. I didn't dare linger and ran like mad.
By the time I reached the village entrance in one breath, my legs were shaking like sieves, and my breathing rasped like a broken bellows.
Leaning against the old pagoda tree at the village entrance, I panted heavily several times.
Then I headed home, but as I walked, something began to feel terribly wrong.
Everything was pitch-black and quiet—far too quiet. There wasn't a single sound.
This was the countryside. Even if everyone was asleep, there should at least have been a few dogs barking.
But there was nothing. Not even the usual chirping of crickets.
I looked around as I walked, and one glance nearly scared my soul out of me.
"Blood. Blood everywhere." On the gates, the steps, the walls, the road.
My face turned white, and cold sweat dripped down in streams.
I lowered my head and ran for home. When I got there, I found the place in complete chaos.
I rushed back to my room and bent down to look. Sure enough, there was a bag, stuffed full of things.
I quickly pulled open the zipper, found the first volume of those two books we used to prop up the table leg, and flipped through it.
A note slipped out. I picked it up and shone my flashlight over its contents.
It read:
"Atong, if you are seeing this message, then something terrible must have happened in the village.
"Don't be afraid. I've arranged everything. Do as I say. Remember what follows carefully, and do not forget it.
"Put the bag on your back, leave the village, and keep heading south. Then you will see a patch of wasteland.
"Cross straight through it and walk several more miles. You will see a Bamboo Forest.
"Walk deep into the Bamboo Forest, and you will see a small wooden house with lights on.
"Go inside and say that I sent you to find him. He will tell you everything you want to know.
"You must keep those two books in the bag safe. Don't read the second volume until you've escaped and are safe.
"Because there isn't much time, the following is how to use some of the things in the bag.
"You must remember it firmly. Do not forget.
"On your way out, no matter who calls you, no matter what you see, do not turn around.
"No matter what it says, do not listen to it, do not respond to it, and do not stop. Just keep walking forward.
"There is a Taoist robe in the bag. If you suddenly feel extremely cold on your way out, put it on.
"If your body suddenly feels extremely heavy, grab a handful of soybeans from the bag and shout, 'Divine Soldier, hurry as per order!'
"Then throw the soybeans behind you, but do not turn around."
I suddenly remembered that there seemed to be a basin of soybeans in the side room of our house.
They were kept in a copper basin. Whenever my father was home, he went to burn incense before them almost every day.
When I was little, I asked my father why he offered up beans.
My father had said mysteriously, "They're good stuff. Real treasures."
The incense ash inside couldn't be swept away either, so it had always been dusty. Over time, I stopped paying attention to it.
At the end, the note read:
"In the hidden compartment of the bag is a horse folded from paper. Hold it in your hand or put it in your pocket.
"If you truly can't run any farther, take out the paper horse and shout:
'With Red Hare in hand, a journey of a thousand miles becomes as flat ground. Hurry as per order!'
"After shouting, throw it beneath your feet. Then, no matter what happens, do not be surprised. Just keep walking forward."
I checked the hidden compartment in the bag and, sure enough, there was a horse folded from paper.
It was covered in a deep jujube-red color, so I tucked it into my pocket.
Then I closed my eyes and recalled everything in the note once more.
Once I felt that I had memorized it all, I packed up and prepared to leave.
The moment I stepped outside, I focused my eyes and saw that, at some point, a thick blanket of fog had enveloped the village, as if it were about to swallow the entire place whole.
Maybe I had been too absorbed in reading to notice. My heart beat like a drum, I swallowed, and a chill crept down my spine.
I strode toward the village entrance. When I reached Uncle Liu's house, I heard a voice say, "Atong, where are you going so late?"
I knew it was Uncle Liu's voice, but hadn't he gone to look for Qianqian? Why was he here?
I thought about turning around to take a look. My body had just begun to twist...
My heart skipped a beat as I remembered my father's words.
I immediately stopped myself mid-motion, said nothing, and ran toward the village entrance.
As I ran, I heard countless voices whispering at my ears, saying all sorts of jumbled things.
A burst of strange laughter came: "Atong, take me with you..."
Then came an angry voice: "Why do you get to leave? Why..."
Another shifting, ethereal voice came from all directions:
"Not one of you can leave. The sins committed back then must be repaid in blood."
In that scene, it felt as if the air around me had been filled with invisible pressure. Those voices—some low, some high, some shrill enough to pierce the ears—
Were like murmurs from an abyss, carrying bone-deep coldness that drove my already fragile nerves to the very brink of collapse.
I dared not linger any longer. My steps grew faster and faster as I thought only of getting away from this damned place.
I ran all the way to the village entrance, braced myself against the big tree there, bent over, and gasped for air.
I thought that since I was already out, I should be safe, so I turned my head and looked back.
The whole village was shrouded in thick fog, within which familiar faces appeared and vanished.
Uncle Liu, half his face missing, seemed to be smiling at me with the remaining half of his rotten face.
Grandpa Zhang's white intestines trailed all over the ground.
Grandma Huang, with only her upper body left, was struggling to crawl toward me across the ground.
Uncle Liao's head had twisted three hundred and sixty degrees, his eyes fixed on me...
All kinds of gazes and expressions flickered in and out of view within the thick fog.
They were all familiar people from the village. I let out an "Ahhh—!" and bolted, my voice thick with tears.
I had made such a stupid mistake. If I had not looked back, I would not have known anything.
If I did not know, I would not have been so afraid. I wanted nothing more than to slap myself twice across the face.
I ran and sobbed at the same time, quickly putting some distance between myself and the village.
When it seemed like there were no sounds around me, I slowed down and looked around.
The moment I did, my heart sank halfway. I had actually run in the wrong direction...
This was north of the village. A little farther on was the elementary school I had attended before.
My mind was a tangled mess, and I had no idea what to do next. There was only one narrow path here. If I took a detour, I would have to pass the school and run into the mountains.
That forest was full of animal traps set by nearby villagers.
Deadly things like traps and snares, meant to catch rabbits, pheasants, and the like.
When I was little, I had even heard there were leopards in there. With this paltry bit of flesh on my bones, wouldn't I be serving myself up on a platter if I ran alone into those deep mountains and old forests?
But if I went back the way I had come, I would have to pass the village entrance again. Thinking of what had just happened in the village made my heart pound like a drum.
"What do I do? What do I do?" I spun around in circles with anxiety.
At first, I wanted to just run out and forget it. Who cared where I went? I would get out first and worry about the rest later.
But after so many things had happened, I did not dare ignore the words my father had left me.
I gritted my teeth. Damn it, I'm going all in. I still have so many things on me.
I refused to believe that Li Yutong would fall here today. I was already at the end of the road anyway, so I might as well smash the pot and throw caution to the wind.