“What are you doing? Get down here!” I shouted anxiously. In this situation, he was actually climbing onto the beam; I really couldn’t understand how his mind worked.

The fat guy ignored me. He was quick on his feet and in just a few steps had reached the top of the beam. Turning back, he said, “What’s the rush? I’m not a three-year-old; if something’s wrong, I’ll come down naturally.” With that, he moved along the beam towards the nearest corpse.

Suddenly, I realized that he had his eyes on that Type 56 rifle. This guy didn’t have a gun and had been feeling uneasy the entire way; now that he saw such a good weapon, how could he not be excited? I was used to his lack of organization and discipline, but now I was so furious I could have exploded, yet there was nothing I could do about him.

The fat guy carefully took a few steps. His weight was substantial, and the entire roof of the hall creaked ominously with the vibrations of his footsteps, causing a lot of wood shavings to fall from above. We instinctively stepped back, worried that he might collapse the whole structure on top of us.

Panzi slapped the rubbish on his body and cursed, “You better be careful, or we’re all done for!”

The fat guy made an apologetic gesture and took a big step to the side of the corpse. The first thing he did was to hook the Type 56 rifle off the corpse, check the chamber for bullets, then tossed it to Panzi before retrieving the ammo pouch from the corpse. He slung it over his shoulder before finally looking at the body.

I watched as the fat guy slowly removed the gas mask from the corpse. Underneath was the face of a middle-aged foreigner, twisted and pale, with an oddly wide-open mouth as if he had been screaming at the moment of death. Death must have been instantaneous, which is why the expression at the time was so frozen and intense.

Seeing the foreigner’s pale face, I shouted, “Don’t touch him! Look at his face; he must have died from poisoning!”

The fat guy nodded and put on gloves. Then he examined the “rope” that was suspending the corpse. These people clearly hadn’t hung themselves, so what was going on with these ropes? We were all very curious.

However, when the fat guy took a look, his expression was still one of confusion.

I asked, “What did you find?”

He said, “These damn things look like hair…”

“Hair?” I asked, puzzled.

He nodded. “It’s pretty long too. Are these people all women?” He lifted the corpse slightly, “Wait… this hair is coming out of his neck. It’s not hair; damn it, is it armpit hair? This foreigner is something else; even his armpit hair is this long.”

Saying this, he had already pulled out a dagger, intending to cut the “hair” off the dead man and lower the body for me to see. However, after he made a couple of cuts with the dagger, the “hair” didn’t break; it seemed very tough. He then took out a lighter, wanting to burn it to see what would happen.

I thought to myself that I didn’t want to see such a corpse, so I shouted at him, “Forget it, I’m not interested in seeing the corpse. Hurry up and come down; don’t mess around—what if it’s toxic?”

The fat guy thought for a moment, put away the lighter, and replied, “Just wait a minute, I’ll be right down!” But then he ran towards another corpse, clearly not wanting to miss any gun he could find.

I looked at the corpse and saw that it didn’t seem dangerous, so I didn’t try to stop him. He was still the same as always; he went up to the body, first unhooked the gun and tossed it to me, then tried to check the bullet pouch on the corpse. Just then, I suddenly saw the hand of the corpse move slightly.

My mind tightened, and I realized something was wrong. The fat guy was about to take off its gas mask, so I shouted, “Wait! It seems like it’s still alive! Don’t take off its mask!”

The fat guy exclaimed, “Really?” He pressed the corpse’s pulse, and his expression changed. He quickly took out a lighter and burned the ‘hair’ on the mask, causing the corpse to drop down from the beam. Huaheshang and I caught it and laid it on the ground. Huaheshang put on gloves and checked its neck. To our surprise, the ‘hair’ hanging from the corpse indeed seemed to have grown from this person’s back.

Huaheshang also checked its eyelids and shook his head, saying, “It’s not dead yet, but it’s close. The pupils are almost dilated.”

I looked at the person and thought he seemed to be Chinese, so I habitually asked, “Is there still a chance to save him?”

Huaheshang shook his head, “We don’t need to save him. Even if we did, it would only prolong his suffering, and it would be more painful when he dies. Plus, it would be a hassle to carry him with us.”

I said, “But he’s not dead yet. Leaving him here doesn’t seem right.”

Huaheshang laughed and shook his head, finding me amusing. He pulled out his military knife and began to cut the man’s neck. Realizing the danger, I quickly grabbed him and said, “What are you doing?”

“He’s poisoned now, and dying is going to be very painful for him. I’m letting him bleed out so he can die more comfortably.”

I was stunned; what kind of logic was that? Just as I was about to shake my head and refuse, suddenly the ‘corpse’ convulsed, its hand gripping Huaheshang’s hand tightly, and it opened its eyes, trembling uncontrollably.

Huaheshang was startled and quickly pulled his hand away, stepping back several paces. The man looked at me, then at Huaheshang, clearly regaining some awareness. Suddenly, he straightened up and began to cry out in pain. I couldn’t make out what he was saying, so I rushed to restrain him, but he was surprisingly strong, and both Huaheshang and I were thrown aside. The man rolled on the ground, screaming in agony, his mouth opening wider and wider, stretching to an impossible limit. His neck swelled up as if it might explode, and a large amount of foul-smelling liquid spewed from his mouth.

Panzi couldn’t bear to watch anymore; he pulled back the gun’s bolt and, with a bang, sent the man on his way.

The gunshot was completely unexpected, and my ears rang with pain. I saw that Panzi’s shot had directly hit the man’s heart, and a torrent of blood gushed from the corpse. It twisted a couple of times and then lay still.

“What was he just shouting?” Huaheshang asked, cold sweat on his forehead. “Did anyone understand?”

“It was Hakka. With him in that state, I didn’t catch much, but it seemed like he was saying ‘on the back, on the back,’” Ye Cheng said.

“On the back? Could there be something unusual there?” Huaheshang turned the corpse over, wanting to cut open its clothes to see what was going on with its back.

I looked at the blood everywhere and felt my head start to spin, so I turned away and urged the fat guy to hurry down.

The fat guy was still squatting on the beam, looking down at us from above, and had already lit a cigarette. When he saw me turn around, he immediately said, “Don’t rush me, you son of a bitch! You’re almost as bad as my old lady. I promise Chairman Mao, I’ll come down as soon as I finish this smoke.”

I thought to myself, how can you smoke with a gas mask on? But when I looked at him, I suddenly froze, and then my scalp went numb. With a loud shout, he fell to the ground.

To my astonishment, behind the fat guy’s shoulder, a strange white face with wide-open eyes suddenly emerged. Upon closer inspection, I realized there was a bizarre person clinging to the back of the fat guy. Yet, the fat guy seemed completely oblivious to it.