Chapter Thirty-Two: The Situation Worsens, Another Unexpected Incident (Seeking Votes)

When a person falls from a great height, the mind hardly registers what’s happening; in the first split second, I thought, “This is it!” and then I slipped into a sort of daze. All I could hear was the fat man beside me shrieking wildly—within moments, his throat unleashed a dozen of the most horrendous sounds imaginable.

I thought to myself, damn it, if we’re going to die, at least let me die with some tragic flair. Wouldn’t it be perfect if a piece of the “Infernal Affairs” soundtrack played at that moment: “La lu... la lu, la la la lu...”

The way we were about to die was so absurd that even in the afterlife, I wouldn’t know how to explain it to my grandfather.

Suddenly, I felt my body crash heavily onto something fragile. There was a loud, chaotic clatter as I sank several meters into the pile before coming to a stop.

Around me, it was pitch black. The things pressing against me were soft and brittle, scraping against my skin in an uncomfortable way.

I had no idea how far I had fallen, but the only clear thought in my mind was to get up quickly from this mess.

Yet, these things surrounding me were so soft and crumbly that at the slightest touch, they shattered or crumbled to dust. The more I struggled, the harder it became to breathe.

Though each piece was light, there were so many that I felt overwhelmed. After struggling fruitlessly for a while, I had no choice but to step on the broken fragments beneath my feet and inch forward bit by bit.

This was a near-suicidal ordeal. The absolute darkness was unbearable. The fragments around me spread like a vast sea, terrifying in their sheer number. Every small movement was accompanied by the sound of crashing and breaking.

As I fully regained consciousness from my fall, all I felt was confusion and terror. The further I moved forward, the thinner my hope became. I had no idea how long this would last or whether I’d suffocate or lose my mind first.

Just as my legs began to weaken, the pile above me was suddenly pushed aside. A beam of flashlight cut through the darkness, and before I could see who it was, a hand grabbed my arm and yanked me up.

I was practically hoisted up single-handedly, but when I looked down, I realized I was still standing on those soft, brittle things. Just as I bent down to look closer, the person switched off the flashlight.

“Don’t move,” he said. “Careful you don’t fall again.”

“Fatty?” I asked.

“Damn right. Who else but me would save your ass?” he panted, sounding exhausted for some reason.

“What’s down there? Why turn off the flashlight?” I questioned.

He chuckled, “Forget it for now. Let’s get out of here first.”

“But without the light, how do we find our way?”

“I checked. This is just a big pit. As long as we keep moving in one direction, we’ll get out. But we can’t walk on this stuff—it’ll give way. We have to crawl. Just follow me.”

I noticed his tone was odd. “Fatty, are you hurt?”

“Of course I’m hurt. Falling from that height, what else could happen? Just give me a moment to catch my breath.” He shifted ahead of me, probably turning around. “Let’s go.”

When people lean on each other, even if unseen, you can feel it. Plus, the brittle fragments cracked with every touch, making it easy to follow the fat man’s path.

Ignoring the awkwardness, I began crawling dog-like behind him. As I moved, I tried to sense what these things really were.

The fragments were irregular and light—one pressed too hard and they crumbled to powder. Curious, I stopped and picked up a thin shard to examine it.

“Don’t stop!” the fat man snapped. “Look at the time, damn it!”

His gruffness silenced me, but the tone was increasingly strange. “Fatty, where exactly are you hurt? You sound worse than you say.”

“Tch,” he said as he crawled forward. “Are you seriously that annoying? You have to make me tell you the truth?”

“What?”

“Damn, I gotta take a dump. Can you just shut up?” He sounded exasperated.

I frowned. “This is an ancient tomb, not the street. If you have to go, just go right here. Don’t you have any toilet paper? I have some in my pocket.”

He restrained his irritation and suddenly laughed. “Damn, if I drop a load here, what if future archaeologists find Beijing roast duck DNA in this place?”

I laughed too. “It’s been days and your Beijing roast duck’s still in your gut?”

He grinned. “You don’t get it. This is our secret family recipe: aged fatty duck intestines. Want some?”

“That’s disgusting.”

The jokes lightened the mood somewhat. Still, we were crawling forward, and soon our limbs began to ache and tingle.

Feeling the silence around us, I wanted to ask the fat man to stop and rest.

Then, I suddenly felt something warm, damp, and sticky under my hand on that pile.

Recalling what he said, I exclaimed, “Damn it, you bastard! You didn’t soil your pants, did you? Why is there something wet down here?”

“Shut the hell up,” he said slowly and quietly.

His tone confirmed my fear: he was hurt. “Fatty, where exactly are you hurt? That wet stuff on the ground—is that blood?”

Right after I spoke, I heard him cry out in pain.

“Damn, what the hell... Hey, miss, we’ve reached the end. There’s a stone platform ahead.” His movements grew louder. “Come on, climb over. We made it!”

My excitement surged as I followed his voice. Soon I reached the stone platform, less than a meter from where I was. A few moves later, I was up.

I collapsed onto it, relieved to have solid ground beneath my feet.

The fat man switched on the flashlight. The beam revealed a circular corridor. Behind us was a brick wall; on the other side was where we had climbed up.

I glanced back at the pile, hoping to understand what it contained.

The moment my eyes landed there, my throat constricted as if gripped by an icy hand. I couldn’t speak.

The pit was filled with pale white bones. None were intact; it looked as if thousands of people had been hacked to pieces and dumped in here.

No, what I saw was only the surface layer—the pit was at least three or four meters deep. To fill it would require tens of thousands of bodies.

Now I understood why the fragments crumbled at the slightest touch—these bones had been here for over a thousand years. Perhaps the fat man and I were the only ones to fall into this pit in all that time.

The thought of having been trapped among these bones sent a chill down my spine.

After a long, horrified gaze, I looked away, about to ask how the fat man was doing, when I turned and froze.

There he was, leaning silently against the brick wall, eyes closed, motionless. His gray clothes were soaked through. A long human hand bone was embedded just below his chest, almost fully inside his body. Blood trickled down from the wound along the bone.

“Fat... Fatty...” my mind went blank. I rushed to his side, shouting, “Fatty, you...”

My hands trembled, unable to touch him. I didn’t know what to do, crouching stiffly beside him, calling his name repeatedly.

His face was ghastly pale, lips white.

He had endured this pain the entire way up, refusing to turn on the flashlight because he knew if I saw his condition, I’d panic like this. In that case, neither of us would escape the bone pit.

I took off my gear pack, searching desperately for first aid—only to find some alcohol and gauze.

I wanted to dress his wound, but my mind spun out of control. My hands shook as I tore open his clothes.

At that moment, Fatty’s head tilted back, his eyes fluttering open slightly.

“Fatty, how do you feel?”

He groaned twice, then gave a weak smile. “What else can I do? Don’t worry about me. Go look for an exit nearby.”

His wound filled me with despair. If I hadn’t been so reckless earlier, he wouldn’t be like this.

Seeing my expression, he chuckled bitterly. “Can your brain ever take a break? Whether we survive now depends on you.”

He caught his breath and said, “As long as you don’t pull out this bone, I’ll be okay for now. Hurry, take the flashlight and look around. Maybe, just maybe, we’ll find Peanut and the others.”

I gritted my teeth and nodded. There was no use staying here. Better to try my luck nearby.

As I stood, Fatty added, “Keep the gun in your hand. If you see... anything unfamiliar, shoot it in the head. Also, if you find any funerary items, bring a couple back for your Fatty. Don’t let me come out empty-handed.”

I laughed through tears, then drew my pistol, disengaged the safety, and ran down the circular corridor.

As I ran, I murmured, “You better hang in there, Fatty.”

At first, my mind was a chaotic mess—I didn’t even know what I was doing. After some distance, I calmed a bit.

“Now, there are two ways to save Fatty: one, find Peanut and the others; two, find an exit and bring Fatty out.”

Though I understood this, I also knew both were slim chances. Still, I had no choice but to keep going.

My greatest fear was wandering in circles and returning to Fatty empty-handed. So I observed every detail, hoping to discover something.

I dared not shine the flashlight into the bone pit beside me. Only my footsteps echoed in the vast space, the faint reverberations tightening my chest.

Though I didn’t look directly at those bones, I felt their gaze—those broken skulls staring at me with hollow black eyes.

In places swarming with corpses, you always feel you’re not alone. Suddenly, I recalled Peanut’s last words—was he really hinting at ghosts here?

I shivered and edged closer to the brick wall.

Suddenly, at the beam’s edge, I saw a dark gap.

A door!

My heart surged with hope. I hurried toward the stone door set into the brick wall.

The door was narrow, barely wide enough for two people side by side. I shone the light inside and saw only dust and debris.

The tomb passage beyond was ancient and dilapidated, as if untouched for tens of thousands of years. Unlike the other broken places we’d passed, this decay seemed caused by some long-ago destructive force.

Most unsettling were the countless deep scratches on the brick walls—like claw marks. But what animal could make marks several meters long on bricks?

I raised my pistol higher, preparing to enter.

Suddenly, from the bone pit behind me came a chilling sound of cracking.

I spun around, flashlight and gun aimed at the pit.

It was as silent as the breath of death itself—no sign anything had moved there. But I had clearly heard the sound.

Cautiously, I edged closer to look for any black rats among the bones.

All I saw were white bones. A hand bone jutted out several meters away, as if someone was reaching out for help.

My imagination ran wild, scaring me.

After scanning the pit’s edge and finding no movement, I turned again to enter the stone door.

Then, just as I moved forward, the hand bone extending from the pile twitched, its finger joints clicking softly in a sound that sent terror shooting through me.

(To be continued.)