While Fang Chen’s memory wasn’t without discrepancies, they weren’t entirely blank. So, everything remained the same; he still had to go to work and couldn’t be late.
Some vague and fragmented pieces still existed in his mind. Occasionally, he could recall things, while at other times, he couldn’t remember anything.
He hadn’t told anyone about this matter, as there was no one he could trust. Suspicion clouded his perception of everyone around him.
Considering a visit to the hospital might be prudent, Fang Chen, after finishing work, strolled along the familiar asphalt road, questioning if there was something wrong with his mental. Lately, he had been feeling absent-minded.
The usually bustling road now seemed oddly deserted, with only a few people. Fang Chen felt strange, yet hesitated to confirm, given his doubts about his own memory.
On the somewhat desolate road, a bicycle passing by him suddenly rang its bell. The wheels rolled over the pavement, and the clear sound of the bell echoed. Fang Chen chose not to look back and continued walking.
He would reach the neighbourhood after turning a corner and crossing a road. Just a few more steps, and he would be home.
Fang Chen stopped at the corner.
Blood, it was blood again.
The dried and congealed blood, dark red in hue, spread in large, swirling patches, reminding Fang Chen of the black vortex in his dreams—a rotating, contracting force that gradually pulled one in little by little.
Two people were lying on the road, not far from them was a pristine white private car.
Fang Chen immediately recognized the couple from the first floor, now lying motionless on the ground. His keen eyes caught Mrs. Wu’s vacant stare, her mouth agape, and blood oozing from her nose and mouth. The corners of her eyes also bore traces of blood, tinting half the eyeball in red. She wore a peculiar expression on her face; looking at the shape of her mouth, it was as if she was pleading for help…
Fang Chen couldn’t see Mr. Wu’s face as he lay face down on the scorching asphalt, possibly succumbing to choking on his own blood after he struggled to turn over onto his back.
Pain pierced Fang Chen’s head as fragmented images and sounds flashed through his mind: blaring horns, screeching brakes, blood, pain, desperate hoarse and dry cries for help… that went unanswered. Then, an overwhelming, boundless sense of despair engulfed him.
We’re sorry for MTLers or people who like using reading mode, but our translations keep getting stolen by aggregators so we’re going to bring back the copy protection. If you need to MTL please retype the gibberish parts.
He was in so much pain that he was almost forced to his knees. When he regained his composure, he realized he was crying. His chest felt like it was being pressed heavily by a pair of hands, making each breath a struggle.
Upon lifting his head once more, Mrs. Wu’s eyes were still fixed on him, bulging with pain and the dread of imminent death. It was as if she was silently questioning Fang Chen why he didn’t save her. She wanted to live, wanted to seek rescue. However, every time she opened her mouth, blood would gush out, its taste resembling rust, threatening to choke her throat. As if someone was repeatedly shoving a rusty iron pipe down her throat, depicting a horrific image of blood and flesh intermingling…
Fang Chen felt his throat ache, as if he had actually experienced it. He clutched his own neck and coughed dryly. Mrs. Wu’s legs seemed to have been pierced by some sharp object, revealing scarlet flesh. He saw the hazy outline of the bloody flesh clinging to the licence plate of the white private car, staining the numbers on top crimson.
There wasn’t a single person around; this couple was already dead.
How long have they been dead? Why haven’t anyone called the police?
Every part of Fang Chen’s body throbbed with pain, as if his bones had been crushed by something. Tears continuously streamed down his face. Due to the pain and an inexplicable sorrow, he couldn’t comprehend what he was crying for. He wanted to call the police, but he couldn’t even lift his hands to retrieve the phone that was in his pocket.
He knelt at the edge of the sidewalk, merely ten meters away from the deceased couple.
After a prolonged moment, Fang Chen managed to stand up with great difficulty. There was no one in the private car, and both sides of its doors were securely closed.
…A hit-and-run?
Fang Chen’s hands continued to tremble as he bowed his head and pressed “1” on his phone. Suddenly, his wrist was enveloped by something cold.
“Fang Chen.”
Someone was calling him.
Fang Chen instinctively turned his head, finding nothing behind him. Then, he turned his head again—
Everything had vanished.
The private car was gone, the deceased couple was nowhere to be seen, and the dark crimson blood was gone too… The asphalt road lay spotless, and the street bustled with activity once again.
Fang Chen hurriedly crossed the road, not even realizing that he was running a red light. The vehicles honked loudly, yet it seemed as though he couldn’t hear.
He had only one thought: get home as fast as possible; he would be safe once he reached home.
Entering the residential area, the usually lively area downstairs now felt eerily silent. No one was sitting and engaging in lively banter in the shade. Everything was too still. It seemed that only in Mrs. Wu’s presence would the place come alive.
The sunlight danced and flickered through the gaps in the tree leaves. Fang Chen, feeling his scalp tingling with numbness, hastened into the corridor. A pair of cold hands grabbed his wrist, startling him to swiftly evade.
The young lady let out a soft “ah,” and Fang Chen turned to find it was Fan Yingying.
“…Sorry, is something the matter?” he asked.
Fan Yingying shook her head and asked, “What’s going on with you?”
“It’s no…” Fang Chen thought of the couple lying in a pool of blood and couldn’t help but feel nauseous. “It’s nothing.” These were all his illusions… These were… just his illusions, right?
Fan Yingying’s eyes wavered as if hesitating, but ultimately, she didn’t say anything.
Back home in the living room, Fang Chen sat for a while. Perhaps he really should see a psychologist. Everything that had happened in the past few days was too dubious, leaving him unable to distinguish between reality and illusion.
Why did he suddenly experience amnesia? Fang Chen stared at his phone’s blank contact list, his fingers hovering over the keypad.
“Fang Chen.”
He was dreaming again.
In the dream, someone was calling his name.
Fang Chen woke up groggily. The night draped its veil across the room, and amidst the darkness, someone stood by the window.
Initially, he couldn’t distinguish whether this was a dream or reality. Thinking of using the bathroom, he lifted the blanket and sat up with his legs hanging over the bedside. The curtain suddenly blew open by the breeze, and he caught a glimpse of the person’s neck from the side, revealing a perfectly intact and delicate collarbone.
He suddenly sobered up; this wasn’t a dream.
“Fang Chen?” The person called him again in a voice with a hint of confusion.
Fang Chen sat stiffly, not daring to move.
The moonlight was too dim; he couldn’t make out the person’s face. He could only see bits of exposed skin gradually losing its smoothness, revealing the red muscles underneath that quickly decayed into black. Only a few scattered patches still exuded a fresh red hue.
The person approached slowly and stood beside Fang Chen. Fang Chen saw their mottled and decaying fingers; it seemed like they were melting, and the rotten flesh was about to fall onto his legs. Those hands drew close to his cheeks, and there was neither the expected odour nor a pockmarked texture. He only felt a piercing cold.
His eyes brimmed over with a surge of tears, and Fang Chen dared not utter a sound. His entire body trembled.
The person’s hand was on the verge of complete decay, revealing bare, white bones as it caressed his neck. The only sensation Fang Chen felt was cold—neither the hardness of bones nor the softness of decaying flesh, only the icy touch of the palm.
He felt like he was about to faint, but the person suddenly spoke. Their voice was deep, blending all the sounds Fang Chen had ever heard in his life—men’s, women’s, and even animals’ cries. He knew it was a man’s voice, but they all merged together seamlessly, making it indistinguishable.
The person leaned close to him and said, “I will always stay with you, right by your side.”
No…
Fang Chen’s throat felt as if it were blocked and unable to make a sound. His consciousness plunged into a deep, dark vortex once again. Feeling sleepy and exhausted, he quickly fell into a deep sleep.
Moonlight bathed the room, adorning the lonely night. The glass reflected Fang Chen’s figure, who was now being tenderly embraced by a person whose entire body was in decay.
It’s like realistic picture (text description) how truly should looks romantic between zombie and human
Thank you for your translation 💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙
Oh my gosh, I’m really speechless