MLV Ch 53

The diary contained a photo, apparently taken by the doctor who had surreptitiously taped a camera to the doorframe. Outside the glass pane, a long, pitch-black shadow was reflected. The image was blurry, revealing only a distorted, eerie silhouette. Jiang Ye tucked the photo away as Huo Ang finished lowering the doctor’s corpse.

The body was stiff and purplish-blue, covered in livor mortis, but showed no signs of ongoing decay. Jiang Ye and Huo Ang exchanged a look; clearly, time worked differently in this Forbidden Zone. Just like the corpses in the basement morgue, nothing was rotting. They seemed to have entered a time capsule where time had frozen at a specific moment.

Huo Ang clicked his tongue. 

“Damn, that’s surreal. If I die here, will I stay fresh forever? What kind of hellhole is this?”

Jiang Ye stripped the white lab coat from the doctor and put it on; it fit perfectly. He then unclipped the doctor’s name tag and pinned it to his own chest.

Li Miaomiao’s body bag was temporarily stashed in the duty room. Jiang Ye donned his backpack—it contained the hawthorn cakes, and he knew if he left them here, Jin Feize would undoubtedly steal them. To be safe, Jiang Ye smashed the doctor’s spine and head to ensure he wouldn’t suddenly “reanimate” and attack them from behind. Ready now, they re-entered the corridor and returned to the Injection Room. Jiang Ye placed his hand on the cold doorknob while Huo Ang knelt by the door, rifle raised, and nodded.

Jiang Ye slowly turned the knob and pushed the door open. The flashlight beam cut through the darkness, illuminating rows of chairs filled with expressionless corpses. They wore hospital gowns, sitting like patients waiting for their shots. Red slogans on the walls read: “No Noise” and “No Fighting.” As Jiang Ye entered, they remained indifferent, as motionless as puppets. Every step Jiang Ye took felt like treading on a knife’s edge, but he forced himself to stay calm as he walked toward the pharmacy refrigerator. Huo Ang crouched at the door, his barrel poking through the gap, keeping a sharp eye on the room.

Jiang Ye entered the pharmacy area, turning his back to the “patients,” and opened the fridge. A monstrous face suddenly appeared before him, and he stumbled back, nearly losing his composure. Inside the fridge was a severed head, its face hideously distorted with features melting like wax. Its mouth was stretched wide, revealing a maw of shark-like teeth. A small gallbladder lay inside its mouth.

The gallbladder was still stained with blood; it had to be Li Miaomiao’s. But to retrieve it, he would have to reach into that monster’s mouth. Jiang Ye felt that if he did, the head would spring to life and snap his hand off. He searched the pharmacy for pliers or even chopsticks, but found nothing but medicine, small tweezers, needles, and empty trash bins.

Suddenly, footsteps echoed in the hallway. Huo Ang’s expression darkened as he met Jiang Ye’s gaze from across the room.

Man or ghost? Jiang Ye listened. The steps were unnaturally rhythmic, the intervals perfectly even—exactly as described in the diary. Was it Dr. Shi? Sweat beaded on Jiang Ye’s brow. There was no more time. He reached toward the head’s gaping maw. As his hand drew closer, the head’s squinted eyes glimmered with a sinister, malevolent grin.

Jiang Ye’s hand paused at the lips. Instead of reaching in, he pulled out his handgun and fired a shot directly into the head’s forehead. The skull burst apart, splattering flesh and blood inside the fridge. Rather than reaching into the toothy maw, Jiang Ye reached through the bullet hole in the top of the skull, accessed the oral cavity from above, and grabbed the bloody gallbladder.

He tucked the gallbladder into his waist pouch and left the pharmacy. The footsteps in the corridor were getting closer. Huo Ang had already slipped inside the room. The previously expressionless corpses in the chairs were now twisted in looks of pure terror, too frightened to even acknowledge Huo Ang.

“Can we make a break for it?” Jiang Ye whispered.

“It’s too close. If we go out, we’re going to have a firefight.” Huo Ang chambered a round. 

“Hide or fight?”

“We can’t fight it. Hide,” Jiang Ye said.

Huo Ang arched an eyebrow. 

“Lacking confidence?”

“Jin Feize couldn’t even beat that thing.”

“Hide it is.” Huo Ang backed down instantly.

Jiang Ye made a split-second decision. He took out his folding knife and sliced open the abdomen of a nearby patient’s corpse. The corpse stared at him with wide eyes; Huo Ang, though confused, cooperated by training his gun on the corpse’s head to keep it still. Jiang Ye reached into the stomach, pulled out its gallbladder, then grabbed a fire axe from a cabinet on the wall and decapitated the body.

The patient’s head looked ghastly. Jiang Ye took a bullet from his magazine, extracted the gunpowder and cinnabar powder, and fed it into the severed head’s mouth. The throat sizzled and hissed, corroding into a muddy mess—this would prevent the head from making a sound and ruining his plan. Finally, he stuffed the patient’s own gallbladder into its mouth, kicked the remains of the first monster head under a cabinet, and placed the new head in the fridge.

By the time he finished, the Injection Room looked like a slaughterhouse. Jiang Ye was covered in blood, crimson droplets splattered across his pale, stoic face. Watching the ruthless efficiency of this high schooler, Huo Ang couldn’t even find a way to help. He could only marvel internally: High schoolers these days are way too hardcore!

The other corpses in the room looked at Jiang Ye with absolute horror.

The footsteps arrived. Jiang Ye and Huo Ang sat down among the rows of patients. Surrounded by ghosts, the room somehow felt safer than facing whatever was outside. Huo Ang rested his gun against his leg, muscles tensed, staring at the door.

“Remember to hold your breath,” Jiang Ye whispered.

The moment the footsteps reached the door, they clicked off their flashlights. The room plunged into darkness.

With a creak, the door opened. The rhythmic steps entered, slowly moving toward the pharmacy. Jiang Ye’s heart hammered in his chest. He didn’t know if his ruse would work. What did “assimilated” mean? Had Dr. Shi become a deity like Mahakala?

He heard the fridge open. The head inside let out a muffled, sobbing sound but couldn’t speak. Then, the fridge clicked shut. The footsteps didn’t leave; they turned and headed toward the chairs. He felt a wave of bone-chilling cold approaching. Beside him, Huo Ang sat bolt upright, like a blade ready to be unsheathed.

The cold drew closer. Jiang Ye took a deep breath and held it. The chill felt like rising floodwater, slowly submerging his ankles. He felt a tall, spindly presence walk past him. The sense of pressure was heavier than any ghost he had ever encountered; it was as if a mountain of shadow was pressing down on his soul. It stopped. A sudden, wet retching sound echoed as the thing vomited something onto the floor.

After it finished, the footsteps turned back and stopped directly in front of Jiang Ye.

Jiang Ye’s heart nearly stopped. Huo Ang gripped his gun.

The faint, ghostly sound of a woman weeping rose in front of Jiang Ye—a sound as tragic as a mournful lute.

Jiang Ye froze.

“A-Ze…” the woman said. 

“A-Ze… where did you go? Do you not want Mommy anymore?”

The voice was identical to Dr. Shi’s voice from his visions.

Was Dr. Shi still capable of communication? Jiang Ye wondered, not daring to move. The woman wept, her tears dripping onto the back of Jiang Ye’s hand resting on his knee. He twitched his fingers, tentatively reached for his flashlight, and clicked it on.

The beam illuminated a terrifying sight. Jiang Ye and Huo Ang nearly stopped breathing.

Before them was a horrific face—black-skinned, cragged and cracked, with hide as hard as iron armor. A massive pustule sat in the center of her forehead, something squirming inside it. She held her face as she wailed. She had two arms in front and two on her back, though one was severed, the wound already healed.

She wasn’t a god, but she had been “assimilated” into the form of one.

Jiang Ye opened his mouth to try and speak, but then he saw the reflection in the pharmacy glass. It showed the woman’s jagged back, Jiang Ye’s grim face—and someone else sitting behind him.

It was Jin Feize.

He sat in the darkness, expressionless and silent.

When had he come in? Or had he been there the whole time? No wonder the other ghosts hadn’t reacted to their entry—it wasn’t Jiang Ye’s disguise; they were simply too terrified of Jin Feize to move. Jiang Ye couldn’t read Jin Feize’s expression. Was it indifference? Or perhaps loathing? Could a heartless monster feel grief for his mother?

Huo Ang saw him too, glancing back with a face full of confusion.

“A-Ze…” Dr. Shi said. 

“Play with me… play with me, okay?”

Her golden eyes, darting erratically within their sockets, locked onto Jiang Ye as she leaned closer.

“Why don’t you say anything?”

Jiang Ye: “…”

What was he supposed to say? Why wasn’t Jin Feize speaking?

Dr. Shi’s expression suddenly turned feral, her four arms twitching convulsively. 

“Unless you aren’t A-Ze… Monster! Monster! A monster is pretending to be my A-Ze!”

Seeing her about to lose control, Huo Ang raised his gun. Jiang Ye reached out and grabbed the barrel.

“No,” Jiang Ye said, looking into her eyes. 

“I am Jin Feize.”

“A-Ze, A-Ze, my A-Ze. I knew you’d come back.” Dr. Shi cupped his cheeks. 

“Play with me…”

Jiang Ye gritted his teeth. 

“Fine. I’ll play.”

“Hee hee hee…” Dr. Shi laughed maniacally. 

“Find the treasures before dawn. You have to try your best, A-Ze (Jiāyóu). If you win, Mommy will make something delicious for you. But if you lose…”

Her frantic golden eyes suddenly fixed on him, reflecting Jiang Ye—and Jin Feize standing behind him.

“Mommy will eat you.”