The rumbling grew louder and louder.
The lake bottom began to churn like waves, countless whirlpools of various sizes appearing in succession, growing increasingly violent. The thick black silt was churned up in clouds, like giant ink suddenly dissolving, quickly enveloping everyone until they couldn’t be seen.
Zong Hang instinctively tried to grab hold of Yi Sa, but it was too late. Human strength was utterly insignificant against the overwhelming force that struck in an instant – he couldn’t even remember how he got separated from Yi Sa. His body was like it had been thrown into a spinning washing machine, rotating at high speed. One second his head was pointing downward, the next he was spinning uncontrollably like a top whipped by a leather cord. The feeling was unbearable.
At one point, he suddenly collided with someone. Overjoyed, thinking it was Yi Sa, he reached out to grab them, only to find a head of short, coarse hair. He quickly let go, then immediately regretted it – in such bizarre circumstances, friend or foe didn’t matter, having another “person” nearby was already lucky enough. But when he tried to grab it again, his palm only caught muddy water.
If this spinning continued, he would eventually lose consciousness.
Just as he was growing dizzy, he suddenly saw a white light.
Perhaps he didn’t see it, but rather his body naturally sensed the light in the darkness: the white light was like lightning flashing in the darkness, sprouting countless tendrils that swept and coiled around, like the numerous legs of a giant octopus, extending and contracting freely, twisting and turning, churning the lake water into a boiling frenzy.
This white light must be the white water monster, like a giant broom, that residents spoke of in legends.
It was also what American diving expert Pole mentioned in his memoir, the thing that Ding Yudie had been desperately seeking.
And now, he had encountered the same thing.
A streak of white light twisted and rolled toward him like a snake.
When people have absolutely no escape route, they become fearless. Zong Hang thought to himself: might as well go all out!
This was probably some prehistoric water monster hidden in Lake Poyang. His previous twenty-some years of life – having been chased in terror by geese, chickens, dogs, pigs, and various other animals – was actually going to end in a battle with a water monster. It could be considered a grand finale, a glorious end.
Zong Hang raised the Wugui dagger, aimed at the approaching light, and slashed.
He slashed at nothing – the blade passed through the light but seemed to hit nothing at all.
Then the light coiled around him in circles, like a python constricting its prey.
Zong Hang desperately reached out to push and pull, expecting to grab the monster’s flesh limbs or tentacles, hoping to at least pinch it to make it shudder, but what he grabbed felt like just more silt and fine sand.
He couldn’t catch his breath. His vision went black, and then he knew nothing more.
Zong Hang had a dream.
He dreamed he was lying in a hospital bed getting an IV, surrounded by white.
Tong Hong sat by the bed holding a tissue box, crying with eyes swollen like peaches.
Zong Hang sighed and said, “Mom, I’m fine.”
Then he asked, “Did you get the postcards?”
Tong Hong nodded and said, “I got them.”
As she spoke, she took a bulging large envelope from the bedside table, turned it upside down, and poured out the postcards: “I got them all, Hang Hang, I got them all…”
The postcards fluttered down like snowflakes, covering the floor, covering the bed, and still kept falling.
Such a small envelope, yet it seemed to contain thousands upon thousands of cards, with no end to the falling.
Zong Hang wondered, “When did I send so many?”
He sat up and reached out to catch one from mid-air. Just as he caught one, the hospital room lights went out.
Tong Hong disappeared, and all the postcards covering the floor and bed vanished. Looking down, the one in his hand showed Guilin landscapes on the front, and two crooked characters on the back.
“Safe and sound.”
There was also a red stamp that reads in small text: “No such sender found, delivery refused.”
Usually, it would say “no such recipient” or “no such delivery address” – how could it be “no such sender”? He wasn’t dead.
Zong Hang felt confused as he heard the dripping sound.
Looking again, the IV needle had been pulled out at some point, the tube hanging limply in the air with medicine dripping to the floor.
Drip… drip…
Zong Hang opened his eyes.
He felt dazed, his head alternating between hot and cold – first swelling with heat, then contracting with cold. For a moment he couldn’t remember what had happened.
He only knew that before him was a huge cave, with many branching tunnels at the edges. Above, the grayish-white limestone layers were piled up like suddenly frozen bubbling lava, undulating unpredictably. The shapes and forms had no aesthetic appeal whatsoever – looking at them too long actually made one feel nauseous.
Countless arm-thick stalactites hung down, some scattered in twos and threes, others densely clustered, constantly dripping water. The dripping sounds merged into one, like rainfall.
On the ground stood many stalagmites. Usually, stalagmites are thinner at the top and thicker at the bottom, but the ones here were oddly shaped – many were actually thinner at the bottom, and many had fallen over.
Where was Yi Sa? Where were the others?
Zong Hang tried to move his body, only then realizing he was lying in a puddle of mud. The sensation throughout his body was hard to describe – his previous experience of frantically “spinning” in the water was like dough being repeatedly slammed, kneaded, pushed, squeezed, pressed, and worked by a giant hand. After all that stretching, though his bones felt like they had been taken apart and reassembled and his muscles and skin ached terribly, there was also a strange sense of invigoration mixed in.
He heard a “chi-cha chi-cha” sound nearby.
Zong Hang turned his head with effort.
Almost right by his nose, a thumb-nail-sized clam was wriggling – there are many types of clams, like flower clams, razor clams, and such, but Zong Hang couldn’t tell the difference, so he just called them all clams.
This clam seemed to have crawled out from under the mud, as there was a small hole in the muddy bank of the puddle, and because its grayish-brown shell was covered in mud stains.
As it moved, it suddenly stood upright, its two oval shells opening outward like a butterfly perched on a flower.
This was truly strange – Zong Hang had eaten clam and egg soup before. When the housekeeper brought clams home and soaked them in clean water to purge sand, those clams would lie tilted this way and that, their shells barely cracked open. They only opened up when fried or stir-fried – he had never seen one stand up like this, posed like a white crane spreading its wings.
After a while, the clam turned towards him.
Zong Hang shuddered.
He saw that this clam’s shell edges had fine, dense sharp teeth, no wonder when the shells came together they made that “chi-cha” sound like chattering teeth.
What kind of thing was this?
Just as he was frozen in shock, something suddenly pushed up from under his bottom. Zong Hang jolted as if electrocuted, his whole body trembling as he rolled and crawled to one side.
He saw now – another clam, still thumb-sized, clumsily burrowing out from under the mud bank, crawling to a stalagmite. Suddenly its two shells opened and closed rapidly with chi-cha sounds, sending rock debris flying around it…
It was… gnawing on the stalagmite? Grinding its teeth?
That wasn’t all – more clams crawled out, all small, in gray, grayish-white, and grayish-brown colors, crowding together and moving like waves pushing and surging, all heading towards various stalagmites. Some even flew – their shells vibrating at extremely high frequencies, making buzzing sounds. Though they couldn’t fly very high, flying clams were terrifying enough.
These clams would start chi-cha-ing as soon as they reached the stalagmites. The sound was endless chatter, and one stalagmite that had been particularly damaged couldn’t withstand the gnawing anymore and crashed down with a boom.
Zong Hang’s hair stood on end as he held his breath and retreated step by step, as if afraid of disturbing someone.
Had he just been… lying on a clam nest? If he hadn’t woken up early, would he have been completely devoured while unconscious?
Not good!
He hadn’t retreated more than a few steps when, like sudden rain that comes and goes quickly, the chi-cha sounds gradually stopped. One clam opened its shells and turned toward Zong Hang, then a second, a third…
Dense and numerous, at various heights, there must have been thousands of clams, all opening their shells toward him. The mass between their shells – commonly called clam meat but called the “visceral mass” – rose and fell in waves. This scene made cold sweat run down the back of his neck.
Zong Hang gave a dry laugh, stammering: “What… what do you want to do?”
He felt all over his body: terrible, the Wugui dagger Yi Sa had given him had been lost somewhere during the tumbling in the lake. Of course, even if he had it, it wouldn’t help – it’s not like he could pry open shells to eat the meat now.
He continued backing away while slowly starting to unbutton his old-style shirt.
Just then, several clams took the lead, mobilizing several small groups from different directions to fly straight at him simultaneously!
He knew it! It was bound to happen sooner or later – he was so deliciously tempting, how could they not target him?
There was no time to unbutton now. Zong Hang lifted the hem of his shirt and yanked it off over his head. Without even looking closely, he grabbed the shirt with both hands and swung it around with all his might.
The shirt was soaked with water, giving it natural weight and presence. Swung around, it created a whooshing wind, and with his desperate manner, it was temporarily effective. About a dozen clams were knocked to the ground, while the rest reacted quickly, sensing the air currents were wrong and avoiding in time.
Only one unfortunate one seemed to have had one of its shells damaged, couldn’t maintain balance, and flew crookedly, stopping at about chest-abdomen height. Its clam mass was expanding and contracting severely, and then suddenly its shells snapped shut.
Zong Hang didn’t know which nerve suddenly connected, but he had a premonition something bad was about to happen. Without thinking, he ducked and rolled to the ground-
With a bang, the clam exploded!
Tiny shell fragments flew everywhere, seemingly mixed with sand grains. Thanks to his preparation, Zong Hang only got several cuts on his back and arms from the flying shell fragments. Thinking about it made him feel lucky – if he had still been standing stupidly, wouldn’t his chest, abdomen, and head have gotten many holes?
Seeing the remaining group of clams stirring restlessly, Zong Hang hesitated no more and turned to run.
He ran in panic, diving into any branch tunnel he saw. The cave had many branches, twisting and turning like an underground maze. He ran with the wind whistling in his ears, a black mass pressing behind him, buzzing like they were coming to claim his life…
The next second, he stepped into a large cave and immediately saw a muddy water bank in the center…
Wasn’t this the same clam nest? How did he run back here?
Zong Hang’s calves trembled as he heard the commotion approaching again from behind. Gritting his teeth, he continued running, this time choosing a different branch tunnel, just hoping there would be an exit or something where he could escape these soup ingredients…
Suddenly his foot caught on something and he went flying, his head hitting the cave wall solidly. Stars exploded in his vision, but when he looked back, his heart suddenly leaped with joy.
It was Yi Sa.
She was lying face down, also soaking wet, and seemed to still be unconscious.
Zong Hang stumbled over, lifted her upper body, and held her, called several times with no response. Hearing the situation becoming dire behind him, he dared not delay anymore and hoisted her onto his back to run.
After just a few steps, he was in misery.
Yi Sa was unconscious and couldn’t hold onto his neck. After being jolted a few times she started sliding down, her body nearly bending backward. Zong Hang had no choice but to carry her like a sack of grain across his shoulder. The delay of a few moments allowed some of the pursuing clams to catch up. Zong Hang could only hold Yi Sa with one arm while swinging and brandishing his shirt with the other hand…
In the chaos, he couldn’t look carefully, but his ears keenly caught several “chi-cha” sounds again.
This f*cking… they were going to explode again?
His mind roared and he immediately dove to the ground. Worried about dropping Yi Sa, he specifically made himself a cushion, but as soon as his back touched the ground he realized something was wrong: wouldn’t this make her a shield against the shell fragments?
He quickly rolled over to cover her body.
With multiple flying clams exploding, probabilistically speaking, there was no way to avoid all of them. Zong Hang gritted his teeth, feeling many fragments embedding into his flesh with popping sounds – his back, buttocks, and legs both large and small, seemed to be hit everywhere…
This wouldn’t work – he had to get up and fight to the death. Even if he could only draw the clam swarm away, it would be better than having them all surge forward chi-cha-ing until nothing was left of him and Yi Sa but bones…
Just as Zong Hang was about to push himself up, his vision suddenly blurred and his whole body convulsed violently before collapsing again.
He saw black blood vessels bulging one after another on his arms.
Ah yes, he had almost forgotten – clams are seafood too.
Their shell fragments and meat bits had entered his body and mixed with his blood. The consequences should be much more severe than just tasting a bite or two…