Does Yanluo Give Birth to Yanluo?

The wind continued to blow, winding and moaning. The dilapidated roof occasionally lifted before quickly falling back down, making monotonous pattering sounds. Lu Sanming and the others stood outside the door, not knowing what the people inside were discussing. Not wanting to intrude, they continued to stand guard, knowingly moving further away to avoid overhearing things they shouldn’t.

Jiang Lian felt both his temples throbbing intensely. But strangely, once he accepted this premise, he realized that such a thing wasn’t actually that unusual.

Nature was already full of secrets, and organisms displayed biodiversity with various methods of reproduction: Some ocean fish, like cod and herring, had both ovaries and testes, capable of producing the next generation by themselves; eels could undergo sex reversal, all starting as females but transforming into males after maturing and laying eggs; not to mention many plants that self-pollinated…

So why must humans be confined to bisexual reproduction? Ancient times were mysterious eras beyond verification. Gun gave birth to Yu from his belly—perhaps self-reproduction truly existed in that age?

This process of “birth” might be terrifying—otherwise Da Fei, who worked at the crematorium, wouldn’t have been frightened to madness. But thinking again, wasn’t a woman giving birth also bloody? People had simply become accustomed to it over many years. Moreover, after entering modern civilization, with hospitals, delivery rooms, and various assistive devices blocking the view, if self-reproduction were also done in delivery rooms behind closed surgical doors, with professional doctors delivering, the whole process would seem quite natural.

Jiang Lian shuddered, somewhat frightened by his thoughts.

Meng Qianzi remained silent, her breathing slightly hurried. She was thinking about something else—the water ghost incident, which shared similarities with what was happening now.

Shen Gun sniffled, feeling he lacked props for his performance. “Do you have paper and pen? Do you?”

After his shout, these items were quickly brought in from outside.

The paper was the previously printed resident location map, with the reverse side available for writing. Shen Gun spread the paper on the ground, gripped the pen tightly, and swallowed several times. “Let me emphasize again, we’ve been tracking the ‘box’ all the way here. We must maintain a holistic view and not look at issues in isolation. Everything must be connected.”

“Remember the carved images on that box? They were all ancient myths. From what I recall, Houyi was shooting the suns, Shennong tasting a hundred herbs, Fuxi creating the Eight Trigrams, Suiren obtaining fire…”

He wrote down these names on the paper, arranging them neatly in a row—the first column.

“And in Xiangxi, where we were busy for a while, the key ultimately centered on Chiyou, the conflict between Chiyou and the Yellow Emperor.”

Speaking thus, he wrote down the names Yellow Emperor and Chiyou on the paper, still in a column—the second column.

“Then next, finding Yanluo, we finally discovered that Yanluo was hiding in this remote mountain village, pondering about Yu and where Yu came from.”

He wrote down the third column of names: Yao, Shun, Gun, Yu.

After writing, he looked up and asked the two: “Do you see any pattern?”

Meng Qianzi, though mentally multitasking, managed to answer first: “This is chronological order.”

While chronological order wasn’t wrong, what Shen Gun wanted to ask about was the commonality among these figures.

He said, “It’s roughly chronological, with some overlap. In essence, these people, whether earlier or later, all existed in a transitional, turbulent era, namely the late period of ancient mythology. And very specifically…”

He pointed to Yu’s name: “Beginning with him, the Xia Dynasty began, which is recorded in the dynastic chronology of the Chinese nation. This means the ancient mythological era completely ended, and the era of human dominance began.”

A flash of insight struck Jiang Lian: “Yu was conceived after Gun’s death, but Yu himself married a woman of the Tushan clan to have children—a normal male-female union. I’ve never heard that after Yu’s death, his remains conceived anyone else—it seems he lost Gun’s ability for self-reproduction. And thereafter, reproduction has always been through male-female pairing in family structures.”

Shen Gun nodded: “Can we hypothesize that before Yu, two reproductive methods existed: self-reproduction and bisexual reproduction? Except that self-reproduction was rare, not something ordinary people could master. Take Gun, for instance, who was regarded as a celestial god and even stole the magical growing soil to control floods. However, this self-reproductive ability seemed to weaken with each generation until it… disappeared.”

Meng Qianzi blurted out: “If self-reproduction means… giving birth to oneself, isn’t that immortality? Like a snake shedding its old skin for a new one…”

Halfway through, she felt the analogy wasn’t quite appropriate and stopped. Jiang Lian picked up: “It goes further than a snake—it’s another form of rebirth, shedding the old embryo and growing new bones.”

Meng Qianzi silently digested these words.

That box… Yanluo was the last person to obtain it. Had he discovered this secret from the box, or gained this ability?

No wonder during his escape, he would rather abandon his family than leave this box behind: truly enjoying eternal life, even if he had to endure the pain of “rebirth” every so often, must have been worth it.

Jiang Lian suddenly thought of something: “Yanluo giving birth to Yanluo, would the offspring look identical to him, or different?”

He put himself in that position, feeling that appearance wasn’t that important: with an extended lifespan, who would care about their face? Whether beautiful or ugly, it was just one lifetime’s experience.

Unexpectedly, Meng Qianzi blurted out: “The same, they should be the same.”

Jiang Lian was puzzled: “Why do you say that?”

Meng Qianzi said, “It’s normal for children to look different from their parents because they combine and select genes from two people. But giving birth to oneself, how much could it change? Like cloning, wouldn’t self-reproduction create an identical copy, barring genetic mutations? Additionally…”

Finding it difficult to explain clearly, she thought it better for them to see for themselves: “Didn’t the water ghost record a video for me? You’ll understand once you watch it. I’ll ask Jinsong to send it over…”

Before finishing, she remembered she had forced Meng Jinsong to take leave. She took out her phone to check—the signal was extremely poor. Even after making a satellite call, receiving the video within a short time would be impossible.

Seeing both waiting for her explanation, she reluctantly began: “I just… suddenly feel that these matters might be connected—remember when we were at Xuandanfeng Forest, I told you about the water ghost incident?”

Jiang Lian nodded—not only did he remember, but the impression was deep, especially that of Ding Panling, who pierced his throat with a knife.

Meng Qianzi carefully chose her words: “The water ghost’s family had an expedition to a shifting cavern in the mid-1990s. One route, with over a hundred people, found that cavern, right?”

Jiang Lian made an affirmative sound, recalling she mentioned how unfortunate those people were—almost annihilated, more than half dying on the spot, with the remaining few gradually passing away over the next decade or more…

Just as he was thinking, Shen Gun’s face turned bright red, and he exclaimed: “I remember you also said they died horribly, in bizarre ways. Many people had bones that grew uncontrollably, piercing through their flesh…”

Damn, Jiang Lian remembered too, especially that phrase “bones growing uncontrollably.” At the time, he only felt shocked, but now, combined with Yanluo’s situation, it became quite significant.

Then he heard Meng Qianzi say: “Yes, those who fortunately didn’t die immediately were detained in a secret location, constantly examined by doctors who recorded their physical conditions until death. Their physical conditions were all strange, with generally altered bone structures—some couldn’t tolerate light, some couldn’t eat certain foods—all sorts of peculiarities. But they had commonalities: first, none lived long, with the longest known survival being only about twenty years; second, during flare-ups, their bodies would start losing blood, nearly exhausting it all, even cutting the flesh would barely produce any blood.”

“I’m wondering, successful self-reproduction is like Yanluo’s rebirth, but what about unsuccessful attempts? Would unsuccessful attempts be like the water ghost’s case, where new flesh and bones couldn’t break free from the original body—the severe cases dying immediately, while the milder ones… deformedly fused?”

Shen Gun looked confused: “What do you mean by ‘deformedly fused’?”

Meng Qianzi didn’t know how to explain: “Because even those who didn’t die immediately had changes in facial features and bone structure, as if the skeletal framework within their bodies had silently reorganized. Plus, these people all had shortened lifespans, likely because this deformed fusion caused an extreme reaction—far from achieving immortality, it accelerated death. Because one person was formed from two sets of flesh and bones, isn’t this…”

She couldn’t find appropriate words anymore. She wanted to express that a person should have one set of flesh and bones, but those affected in the water ghost incident, though appearing normal, actually had two sets of flesh and bones—old and new—inside their bodies. This was a burden that made ‘living’ an especially draining task, right?

“Once we leave here, I’ll arrange for you to watch the water ghost’s video. I can’t explain it just by talking. Also, there’s something I didn’t mention to you: among those affected in the water ghost’s family, two have very special conditions and are still alive today.”

Shen Gun was stunned: “How are they special?”

Meng Qianzi recalled: “One named Jiang Jun had a shrunken body but an abnormally large head, about twice the size of a normal person’s. And it seemed like two people inhabited one body—his original self was still there, but completely controlled. This person was later confined by the water ghost in the Jintang Cave at the bottom of Poyang Lake. The water ghost can’t use the ancestral tablet now, so he can’t access Jintang Cave or know if Jiang Jun is dead or alive, though he’s probably dead, as Jiang Jun’s physical condition was already poor due to severe blood loss.”

Jiang Lian asked: “What about the other one?”

“The other is Yi Sa. Her special circumstance is that among all those affected, she was the youngest, only three or four years old at the time.”

Shen Gun was astonished: “Three or four years old—at that age, even their bodies haven’t fully developed.”

Meng Qianzi said: “Yes, I don’t know if it’s because of her young age, but her condition was different from everyone else’s. Her external appearance didn’t change, so she was mistakenly thought to be unharmed. However, about a year ago, she also started experiencing blood loss and symptoms—I specifically mention these two cases for you to compare with Yanluo’s situation.”

Jiang Lian took a deep breath: “So, from our discussion, we’ve reached two conclusions: first, what happened to Yanluo might be the same as what happened to the water ghost years ago; second, Yanluo is likely still alive, and with the same appearance, unchanged?”

Shen Gun shook his head: “No, there’s an unexpected factor.”

Jiang Lian didn’t understand: “What unexpected factor?”

Shen Gun said, “Yanluo anticipated his death, or rather, prepared for rebirth, so he wrote to his grandson Yan Laoqi, leaving him the stolen goods. That’s normal, part of arranging his final affairs. But a person who knows that their body will undergo terrifying abnormalities after death would surely find a place to safely preserve their body to avoid exposure. Why would he allow his body to be sent to a crematorium? If rebirth failed and the body was cremated, wouldn’t that be a huge loss?”

Jiang Lian felt a chill run down his spine: indeed, Yanluo had calculated everything but couldn’t account for the car accident! This meant his original arrangements had been disrupted.

Shen Gun murmured: “In ancient mythology, it’s said that Gun gave birth to Yu, but Yu wasn’t born as an adult, right? And Gun’s corpse remained uncorrupted for three years before giving birth to Yu—it wasn’t immediately after death…”

Shen Gun found Yanluo’s case quite mysterious, like an uninstructed attempt at imitation through intuition: who knows… whether this person survived, and if so, what form would he take?

With the discovery of the stone wall, the trip proved worthwhile. Meng Qianzi, having gained something, was no longer so anxious. She felt they shouldn’t rush but should wait until daylight for a thorough examination. Moreover, as the saying goes, “like entering a fish market, after a while one no longer notices the smell”—having stayed in this stone house for some time, that rotten smell seemed less unbearable. So she instructed Pixiu to arrange for cleanup, planning to make do and spend the night there.

While they were tidying up, the muffled braying of mules could be heard—the two mountain dwellers, along with four mule handlers and eleven mules, had found their way here.

Since the house was still being arranged and they couldn’t lie down yet, Lu Sanming asked: “What happened earlier? Were you scared?”

One of the mountain dwellers responded reluctantly: “His courage is as small as a needle point—he got scared by his reflection in the water pond. Plus, the wind sounded creepy, so he started howling. Well, he was fine, but he gave me a shock, making me step into the water.”

A mule handler with a drooping head retorted: “What reflection? What I saw was a person floating underwater.”

This must be the person involved, indignant at being belittled, hence the rebuttal.

The mountain dweller scoffed: “Call it a reflection, yet you still argue. Because we had spotlights on the edge, there was light on the water surface, and since the water had ripples from the wind, your reflection was both bright and moving, as if someone was floating below—this is a scientific explanation, how many more times do I need to explain? Besides, didn’t we go into the water to check? Was there anything?”

The mule handler, knowing he was in the wrong, fell silent.

Meng Qianzi found the two quarreling like children quite amusing. Although it was a false alarm, they couldn’t be careless, so she instructed Lu Sanming: “We’re unfamiliar with this place. For night watch, we need enough people—at least four, positioned on all sides.”

Lu Sanming, feeling he shouldn’t let his boss and guests tire themselves, thumped his chest proudly: “Miss Meng, rest assured. If we’re shorthanded, I’ll step up. You just rest.”

The stone house had inner and outer rooms. Meng Qianzi, Jiang Lian, and Shen Gun stayed in the inner room, while Lu Sanming and three others occupied the outer room, convenient for rotating shifts later at night. The remaining four guarded the four sides of the house.

As for the four mule handlers, since the weather wasn’t cold, they insisted on sleeping outdoors with the mules, as if afraid someone might steal them. However, they were close to the stone house, and with night watchers outside, Meng Qianzi let them be.

Exhausted from the day’s jolting journey and feeling unwell, Meng Qianzi took medicine before bed and fell asleep immediately.

In the middle of the night, she woke up.

The ground was damp, and without dry firewood to warm it, even with two layers of ground mats, the cold dampness still crept up, numbing her legs. She gently moved her calves and looked outside the window.

The stone house had windows, but after so many years, the wooden frames had rotted away, leaving only square holes. Looking through one, she could see the mountain dweller on watch, lowering his head to light a cigarette.

The small flame appeared briefly before dying out. Shortly after, the cigarette’s ember glowed, a tiny dark red dot. The mountain dweller took a puff, yawned, and then stepped forward.

As he moved, Meng Qianzi suddenly froze.

From this angle, she naturally couldn’t see his face clearly, only the vague outline of his figure. The mountain dweller had been standing there like a silhouette, but now that silhouette had moved away, yet there was still a human shadow in the original spot.

What did this mean? Was someone warming themselves by a fire? Or perhaps chatting?

Meng Qianzi thought neither was likely. The mountain dwellers were quite diligent and wouldn’t slack off. Besides, night watch required moving around, but that shadow hadn’t moved…

Meng Qianzi sat up slightly with extremely gentle movements.

After a while, she understood.

That eerie shadow wasn’t actually behind the mountain dweller—it was a matter of perspective. The figure was quite far from the mountain dweller, in a concealed position. The mountain dweller hadn’t seen him, nor was the figure using the mountain dweller for cover—it was coincidental that the mountain dweller had blocked him while smoking, then revealed him when moving away. Since she was lying down, her line of sight caught this perfectly.

That person remained motionless, as if silently watching in this direction.

Meng Qianzi’s heart began racing. She was one hundred percent certain this person was not a mountain dweller, but what to do? The distance was still far, and calling out from here would create too much noise, inevitably startling the person away.

While hesitating, she suddenly heard Jiang Lian say in a low voice: “I’ll go over and bring people to circle behind him.”