Linbiangui Village-Infinite Streaming Chapter 35

Cocoon Silk Eruption

After sunset in the evening, a fine rain fell over the village. Villagers returned home, and lights flickered on in every household.

Under the gloomy moonlight, Chen Jin and Wu Zeng left Aunt San Rong’s old courtyard. They shared an old umbrella found somewhere, walking along the newly paved road which had uneven depressions. Water collected in the potholes after the rain, forcing them to tread carefully.

A damp, cold wind, carrying the stench of grass and wood, swept over them, chilling the back of Chen Jin’s neck. The sensation in his abdomen seemed to have become much more sensitive. He instinctively pressed his stomach—the area of cocoon formation, which had been subtly itching since leaving the bathhouse, suddenly stung as if pierced by sharp needles.

“Wait!” Chen Jin abruptly grabbed the leaning wooden fence by the roadside, a gasping sound escaping his throat in a spasm. His knuckles turned pale and blue from the intensifying pain.

Wu Zeng quickly supported Chen Jin’s arm, steadying him. His gaze fell directly on the cold sweat beading on Chen Jin’s temples. The rainwater mixed with the sweat, reflecting a sickly pale sheen.

Wu Zeng gently placed his hand over Chen Jin’s abdomen. Through the thin fabric, the cocoon structure hidden beneath the flesh had swelled up like a hard carapace. Even with Wu Zeng’s gentle touch, this simple contact seemed to cause Chen Jin immense agony. He cried out in pain, clutching his stomach as he convulsed and knelt on the ground, his jaw clenched tight. No further sound could be squeezed past his teeth.

The next second, Chen Jin felt a sudden surge of metallic sweetness block his throat, followed by fresh blood spurting from the corner of his mouth like broken red beads. His consciousness faded.

“Xiao Jin!” Wu Zeng quickly caught Chen Jin’s limp body to prevent his head from hitting the ground, kneeling with him in the mud.

Wu Zeng laid Chen Jin flat, resting his head on his elbow, and lifted the clothes covering Chen Jin’s abdomen. The sight beneath was horrifying—the flesh-colored cocoon filaments were arching up like an insect’s abdomen, pushing the skin into dense ridges. These ridges spread along his waistline toward his chest cavity, undulating as if alive, contracting and expanding with the rhythm of his pulse.

Wu Zeng’s eyes darkened. He immediately bit his wrist, his canine teeth digging deep into the wrist bone. To prevent the wound from healing, he had to saw the cut open with his teeth repeatedly. Blood streamed from the broken wound, dripping directly onto Chen Jin’s abdomen. However, this time the cocoon structure was not controlled by Wu Zeng’s blood. As soon as the dark red blood touched the abdomen, the flesh-colored cocoon webbing suddenly erupted and tangled, rolling and swallowing the blood drops.

Using his own blood for suppression should not have resulted in this change…

Wu Zeng frowned deeply. Chen Jin was now lifeless, his eyelashes trembling in the rain. Raindrops rolled down his pale face, pooling in his eye sockets. Wu Zeng made a swift decision, picking him up horizontally and rushing back the way they came to seek help from the Bai family brothers.

The downpour lashed against the dark tiled roof, and the old wooden door groaned in the strong wind.

A loud bang—the sound of the wooden door slamming open startled Bai Lao San. Bai Lao Er also poked his head out from the dark room, warily sizing up the newcomers.

Wu Zeng placed Chen Jin on the bed, then stood before the faded wooden table, bowing his head. Water droplets ran down his taut jawline and hit the blue brick floor. He bowed deeply toward the dark room, “Save him.”

They could not afford to be careless regarding Chen Jin’s condition.

After a moment, Bai Lao Da emerged from the room, draped a towel onto the tabletop, and then walked to the bedside. His eyes fell upon Chen Jin’s exposed waist and abdomen. The dim yellow lamp cast a flickering halo. The skin’s natural texture had completely vanished, replaced only by the inorganic feel of the cocoon filaments.

This thing looked familiar… Bai Lao Da inwardly cursed, sensing trouble, but he said nothing, merely shaking his head silently.

Wu Zeng remained in a ninety-degree bow. His rain-soaked shirt clung to his back, the arch of his spine like a drawn scimitar. His tense back muscles rose and fell with his breathing. The roar of his heartbeat drowned out the patter of the rain. His posture, though respectful and polite, was chilling.

“It is said that illness and medicine are regional. In terms of medical skill, your family is the most professional and unique in Mengle Village. Why not take another look?” Wu Zeng’s deep voice was hoarse, like sandpaper.

“You speak as if I would hide the cure if I had one.”

“This cocoon appeared after we came to Aunt San Rong’s place. I wonder if that offers any clues? Please examine him carefully again.” Wu Zeng slowly straightened up, his eyes bloodshot, his face devoid of expression. Rain soaked his temples, and droplets ran down his taut jawline, hitting the floor.

“I know!” Bai Lao San suddenly bounced out like a rabbit, raising his hand and saying, “I saw it on Aunt San Rong!”

Wu Zeng’s fingers, hanging by his side, were tinged with blue and purple. They twitched at the mention. The wrist he had bitten open was already seamlessly closed, the new flesh an eerie white.

“Don’t talk nonsense!” Bai Lao Da abruptly pulled his younger brother behind him, sternly cutting off his next words. There was only one way to save him, but if Wu Zeng learned of it now, given his current demeanor, who knew what trouble might arise later.

The overhead lamp flickered as if suffering from a bad connection. Wu Zeng’s shadow suddenly stretched to the ceiling beam. He took half a step forward, “Keep talking.”

Bai Lao Da quickly pressed his two younger brothers behind him. In his panic, his arm knocked the corner of the table, and the pestle on the surface rolled to the floor. “Children talk nonsense, some true, some false. They’ve been with me all these years. If they had seen it, wouldn’t I know?”

The sound of the downpour suddenly seemed distant. Wu Zeng closed the door with one hand and commanded sharply, “Speak!”

Bai Lao Da retreated, shielding his brothers, but the teenagers were already half a head taller than him. He couldn’t fully protect them.

The next second, Wu Zeng was right in front of him, grabbing Bai Lao Da by the neck and pinning him against the wall. “You are lying.”

Bai Lao Da’s feet dangled in the air. He was as helpless as a lamb awaiting slaughter. The collar of his faded dark blue cloth jacket choked his throat. The sound of tearing fabric mixed with his short gasps.

Seeing this, Bai Lao Er grabbed the pestle from the floor and swung it at Wu Zeng’s head. With a thud—a bloody hole appeared on Wu Zeng’s forehead, but his expression and movements did not change in the slightest.

Bai Lao Er had little courage. His action was already a desperate attempt, let alone seeing the wound on Wu Zeng’s forehead healing at a visible speed. He stared blankly at Wu Zeng, his lips trembling, unable to utter a word. The pestle clattered to the floor again.

“Let my brother down, and I’ll tell you!” Bai Lao San cried, pulling at Wu Zeng’s arm, terrified that something would happen to his elder brother.

The three similar faces overlapped in the flickering light.

Wu Zeng released his grip. Bai Lao Da dropped to the floor, coughing uncontrollably, veins bulging on his forehead. Bai Lao Er immediately rummaged through the medicine box for herbal patches to apply.

Wu Zeng led Bai Lao San to the bedside. The boy looked flustered, constantly glancing toward his brother. His speech was not as sharp as usual: “When I was little, I stayed with Aunt San Rong for a few days. She had this on her stomach too, but it was much worse than this brother’s.”

Perhaps thinking Bai Lao San was too young to remember, they had never been discreet about their actions in Aunt San Rong’s house. So, he had personally witnessed her blood exchange and cocoon removal.

“I saw her draw blood from Uncle, and then transfuse it back into herself. It took seven whole days. After the transfusion, the cocoon would disappear! But…” The young man gestured with an exaggerated arc in the air. Rainwater leaking from the eaves happened to drip onto his twitching nostrils. “But Uncle would also be gone.”

Blood exchange!

“This method might be effective for the cocoon filaments, but the act of blood exchange is almost a life for a life,” Bai Lao Da leaned against the wall, his breathing still ragged.

“Use my blood.” Wu Zeng brushed the rainwater off his arm, signaling them to start immediately.

“We don’t have the facilities for cross-matching. Rash attempts carry the risk of rejection. Once rejection occurs, there is no remedy.”

“Just use it.”

The rain had lessened considerably. Water dripped from the eaves of the Bai family’s old house. A damp, earthy smell wafted from the cracks in the bluestone slabs. In his confusion, Chen Jin heard the crisp sound of raindrops hitting the tiles. He struggled to open his eyes and found himself in a room filled with the scent of herbs—this was the Bai family’s house.

Chen Jin’s fingertips traced his abdomen. New skin had grown there, now incredibly soft. The layered, raised cocoon filaments were smooth, with no other abnormality.

Wu Zeng sat by the bed. Seeing Chen Jin wake up, he immediately leaned down and asked with concern, “How do you feel now?”

Chen Jin suddenly grabbed Wu Zeng’s wrist. He saw several overlapping faint scars on the wrist, looking like the result of repeated biting. “You treat yourself as a medicinal primer.”

The tremor in his voice betrayed his feelings.

Wu Zeng flipped his hand, clasping Chen Jin’s palm, and rubbed his already healed wrist against the other man’s hand. “It’s fine now, isn’t it? Hmm?”

The final sound was muffled in his breath.

A crisp clatter of ceramic pots came from the inner room. Bai Lao Da shuffled out of the shadows with a stooped back. He held a bamboo basket containing shattered turtle shells, which cast fragmented shadows in the oil lamp light. “I picked these up by the forest edge last time. They are probably your things. This alligator snapping turtle shell has the effect of calming the body and mind. It’s perfect for grinding up for you. Lao San.”

Those must have been fragments left over from the explosion.

Bai Lao San poked his head out from the room, reluctantly took the bamboo basket, and ran to the side, dumping the fragments into the mortar. Bai Lao Er was nowhere to be seen.

“Today was the first time. You must come back every day for the next six days, or everything will be wasted.” Bai Lao Da walked up to the two. Chen Jin abruptly released Wu Zeng’s hand.

“Is it time for medicine?” Chen Jin wasn’t sure what had happened while he was unconscious, but his current state was acceptable, and staying in someone else’s bed wasn’t right.

“Yes, but this medicine must be kept away from light. We still have to go into their small dark room inside for the IV drip.” Wu Zeng helped Chen Jin off the bed.

Bai Lao Da gave Wu Zeng a long look, then followed his lead, saying, “That’s right.”

A dull bell toll echoed from the depths of the night—the time signal from the Mountain God Temple. Chen Jin and Wu Zeng walked side-by-side on the way back. The road was very dark, with no lights visible from any house along the way. Only a red light shone at the far end ahead. It was unclear if a red light at night was auspicious.

The two were about to turn the corner and leave when the noise from the end of the road drifted over.

In the Wu family courtyard, the water on the ground was steaming, mist floating near the white lanterns. However, the candles lit inside were burning red, just like the candles on the shrine in Aunt San Rong’s house.

In the center of the main hall inside the house was a red wood coffin, currently open. Wu Kai Ke wore mourning clothes on his arm, kneeling expressionlessly to the side, constantly throwing paper offerings into the brazier.

The mournful funeral music mixed with the curses of the elderly pierced the night sky. Several old men and women surrounded him, shouting, “You unfilial son! Your father spent so much effort building the Mountain God Temple when he was alive, and now you won’t even let him look at it! You insist on sending him straight to the crematorium! Truly unfilial!”

Wu Kai Ke said nothing. He slowly stood up, invited the elders out of the room one by one, and then, with a loud bang, forcefully closed the family’s only impressive front door.

The white-haired elders were momentarily stunned, looking at each other in the misty rain. Then, someone started, wailing toward the door, “Old Wu! You died too tragically!”

Soon, others followed suit, and the area outside the Wu family gate descended into chaos.

After the two left, Bai Lao Er walked out of the room, holding a sealed blood bag. “Just as he said, it can survive at room temperature outside the body. No need for centrifugation or low-temperature storage.”

Bai Lao Da remained silent, but his curiosity about Wu Zeng’s background grew significantly.