Chapter Nineteen: The Fat Man in Peril

Some parts of the trampled floor had rotted away, while others were still intact. The section separating us from Fatty Shi was nearly twice as tall as a person. We could hear his wails clearly. In his urgency, Old Miao grabbed his hatchet and started hacking at the board.

After a round of chopping, he managed to break a hole just big enough to crawl through. I poked my head in for a look—good heavens, Fatty Shi seemed about ready to be scared out of his wits. He was left in nothing but a pair of flowered underpants, his pale thighs quivering like slabs of pork fat.

I couldn't help but tease him, his appearance was simply too comical: “Where are your trousers?”

When Fatty Shi turned and saw it was me, his voice was trembling with panic: “Brother Xia, now's really not the time to make fun of me. Hurry up and save me, would you? Just look at the situation!”

I looked more closely. The three coffins that had originally stood behind the main hall had also fallen, two of them still intact. The largest one had crashed down atop a smaller one, while another small one had rolled over and lost its lid, now lying upside down, pinning Fatty's calf.

I thought to myself, this Fatty is really down on his luck. Each coffin must weigh three or four hundred pounds at least—being crushed by something like that couldn't possibly feel good.

“Got pinned by a coffin?”

Fatty Shi was practically ready to kowtow to me, his voice quivering with pain: “Aiyo, please don't ask any more questions—if you keep this up, I'm a dead man. That thing's already clawing at me. I can't hold out much longer!”

Following the opening, Old Miao hacked away until the wooden plank was finally split wide open. We all climbed in and stood beside Fatty. His face was so contorted with pain that the veins stood out on his forehead. It seemed unlikely it was just his leg being crushed, especially after what he’d said moments before: “What's clawing at you?”

Suddenly, as if spurred by some hidden strength, Fatty exploded into action. He bent his knees and shouted: “A claw!” Right then, we saw the several-hundred-pound coffin lurch backward over half a meter with a thunderous crash.

How can I describe the scene? It was like peeling a shrimp—once the shell's off, the flesh comes out naturally. The coffin was meant to house a corpse, and when Fatty unleashed his latent strength and kicked it aside, sure enough, a corpse came into view. The corpse was naked, its hands locked tightly around Fatty’s ankle, while Fatty’s own foot was braced hard on its shoulder.

Clearly, Fatty had shifted his leg to kick the coffin aside. I was deeply impressed by his raw, natural strength; who could imagine such power, sending a heavy coffin flying with one foot? But then I realized—if Fatty could muster that much strength, how much more powerful must the grip of that corpse be to cause him such pain?

I lunged forward, bending down to pry away the corpse's hands. The hands were black and shriveled, the sinews visible beneath the skin, nails over half an inch long, black and curved. Fatty’s ankle had already begun to bleed. As I was about to act, Zhao Wenbin called out: “Xiaoyi, whatever you do, don’t touch it!”

Fatty, thinking I meant to help, had just begun to look slightly relieved, but hearing this, he grew frantic again, crying: “Brother Zhao, you’re a man of principle. We’re all comrades in the revolution! ** taught us that while some comrades make mistakes, we must treat them differently. I’m a model youth here, ready to accept the re-education of the peasant class, which proves I can be united with, even if I once held a grudge against you. But you mustn’t just watch me die! Aiyo, my leg’s about to break—Xiaoyi, hurry up!”

“No!” Zhao Wenbin barked. I looked up at him. His expression was grave as he leapt down and said to me, “Take off his underpants.”

“What? Take off his underpants?” I honestly thought I’d misheard. Though we’d only met as children, I hadn’t taken him as someone so petty. At a time like this, did he really intend to strip Fatty of his last shred of dignity, just to embarrass him?

I glanced over at Yuan Xiaobai, whose face was flushed scarlet. We were all still innocent youngsters, but shame was not something we lacked.

Even Old Miao found Zhao Wenbin’s words a bit much: “Saving lives is what matters! Now’s not the time for nonsense. Xiaoyi, step aside—let me do it!”

But Zhao Wenbin grabbed Old Miao’s arm: “If you want to save him, hurry and strip him. None of us can touch it. The thing grabbing him is a zongzi.”

“A what, a zongzi? Zhao Wenbin, aiyo—” Fatty was about to faint from rage and pain. “Zhao Wenbin, I’ll remember this! Zongzi! As if you’d say that. Old Miao’s a northerner and may not have seen one, but I know what a zongzi looks like. Get lost, aiyo—Fatty’s dying here!”

Zhao Wenbin blocked Old Miao and explained, “By ‘zongzi’ I mean a zombie! Look at the corpse’s hands—stiff and black, nails curved and sharp, white hair on the back. Have you ever seen a dead body that doesn’t rot for a thousand years and can still grab the living? I told you this place was bad, but you insisted. This zombie’s body is full of corpse poison. If a living person touches it, they’ll be poisoned. I’m not being petty.”

“Zombie?” we all echoed at once. In that moment, every face showed a different expression, but I knew Fatty’s was the worst. Though Zhao Wenbin was young, none of us doubted his words for a second. After all, if the corpse wasn’t strange, why would Fatty be in such agony, feeling himself being dragged downward by an inhuman strength?

Old Miao was deeply worried. He’d heard the stories of zombies, though only as folk legends. Now, faced with one himself, he was at a loss and could only ask Zhao Wenbin, “Kid, are you sure?”

Zhao Wenbin confirmed, “I’m sure. It’s a skin corpse. We call these ‘zongzi’.”

Fatty was now sobbing in terror: “Brother Zhao, please, save me—I really can’t hold on!”

Suddenly, Zhao Wenbin squatted down and yanked off Fatty Shi’s flowered underpants, causing Yuan Xiaobai to spin away, covering her face. Zhao Wenbin told Fatty, “You’re in a good position—hurry up and pee!”

Fatty wailed, “Pee? Oh, Brother Zhao, please stop messing with me!”

“Pee—right on its head. Are you still a virgin?” Zhao Wenbin asked with utter seriousness. I couldn’t help but laugh at Fatty’s mortified expression.

Fatty raised a hand and declared, “I swear by **, until the revolution succeeds, I remain a virgin, absolutely!”

“Then what are you waiting for? Virgin boy’s urine is the remedy for this!”

Fatty was truly crying now: “Brother Zhao, I really can’t do it…”

Zhao Wenbin turned to me and said, “Xiaoyi, will you do it, or shall I?”

I couldn’t help but laugh again at the thought of peeing on Fatty’s head. “Either way, I don’t mind.”

“No, no, please! If you both end up squatting on my head, my reputation as General Shi will be ruined for life. Please, all of you, just turn around—I can’t do it if you’re watching!”

Zhao Wenbin pulled me aside and turned me away: “Hurry, or you’ll lose your leg.”

So I started whistling: “Whiu… whiu…”

After about half a cigarette's time, I finally heard the sound of trickling water behind me. Soon after, there was a thunderous crash from the pile of wooden boards. When I turned, Fatty had managed to pull his leg free.

There he was, still without his underpants, his pale backside in full view, cursing and sobbing as he fished Old Miao’s hunting rifle out from under the boards.

And just then, from inside the coffin came a strange, unearthly howl. I saw those hands reach out again. Quick as lightning, Fatty spun around and rammed the hunting rifle into the coffin. The hands, thinking it something to grab, seized it and pulled.

In an instant, half the rifle vanished into the coffin. Gritting his teeth, Fatty cursed, “Damn you, you old hag!”

Then, my eardrums nearly burst from the roar that followed. Smoke erupted along with the gunshot. Fatty quickly reloaded, and another thunderous shot rang out.

Again and again, no one could stop the now-maddened General Shi. His face was etched with humiliation and rage. When the last echo faded, every bullet had been spent. The long, white-haired hands now hung limp and lifeless, while Fatty collapsed slowly to the ground...

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