Chapter One: The Calamity of the Little Village

A wild, furious storm of dust swept across the heavens, blotting out the blood-red sky. Luo Longyu lay helplessly on the sand, his gaze unfocused, his entire body burning with pain. He struggled to keep his eyes open; deep within, a flash of blood-red light flickered, but it quickly vanished, swallowed by an abyssal darkness. He had no idea what had happened—his memory had blurred from the moment Wu Jiabin's blood soaked the yellow sands. Now, consciousness had returned, but everything else was lost to him.

The relentless roar of helicopter blades echoed in his ears. Through the haze, he glimpsed several dark figures passing overhead—helicopters. A few shapes leapt down, landing beside him...

"We've found him. Looks like he's all right. He just unleashed too much power for the first time—it's exhausted him."

"Good. Let's take him back and let the higher-ups handle it. The rest is up to the troops; they'll deal with everything properly."

Through the fog of his mind, Luo Longyu heard these brief exchanges before being lifted up. He opened his mouth, but no words came out.

"In the end... I still can't escape my fate... A zombie... After all these years, I've become a zombie after all..." Luo Longyu managed a bitter, silent smile and slowly closed his eyes. As he slipped into darkness, he seemed to return to the past—those memories he had so desperately tried to forget now surged forth, unbidden...

A mountain stream tinkled through the hills, the last rays of the setting sun spilling over the undulating peaks. A chill wind whispered between the trees, making the already tranquil forest even more serene. Beside the stream, a small boy in ragged clothes placed his patched-up schoolbag on a rock, climbed a tree, and retrieved a bamboo pole—a homemade fishing rod.

He sat alone by the water, deftly digging for worms and baiting his hook, fishing as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Other children, backpacks slung over their shoulders, passed behind him, laughing and playing, but none drew near.

The boy seemed used to this. He quietly fished, wiped his nose, and focused intently on his task.

Time trickled by; the other children had all gone home, but the boy remained, luckless—no fish had bitten today. Stomach growling, he patiently waited.

Just then, the sound of a bicycle abruptly stopped behind him, followed by an old man's call: "Hey! Longyu! I knew I'd find you here fishing. Come on, it's time to go home for dinner!"

Luo Longyu turned to see the plainly dressed old man pushing a heavy bicycle. He broke into a shy, honest smile. "Grandpa Village Chief, I'm about to catch a fish."

"You boy, still fishing at this hour? Hurry up and come home for dinner." The village chief parked his bike, came over to pull Luo Longyu up, picked up his schoolbag, and, like a grandfather with his grandson, loaded him onto the bicycle, not even giving him time to put away his fishing rod.

Luo Longyu lived in a small mountain village, infamous for its poverty. Even attending elementary school meant walking for miles along rugged mountain paths. He had no parents, and two years ago, when he was only four, his only grandparent had died of illness. Luo Longyu remembered it vividly. That day, their shabby home was surrounded by people, but few dared to enter. Only the village chief and a couple of strong men went in.

The village chief spoke with Grandfather for a long time while Luo Longyu sat alone outside on a little stool. Back then, he didn't yet understand death. It was a long while before the village chief emerged, eyes red, and called Luo Longyu in, ruffling his hair with a hoarse voice: "Child, go see your grandfather."

Luo Longyu looked at the village chief with his bright eyes, not understanding, and walked into the dim room.

The weak glow of a yellow bulb lit the space. Grandfather lay on the heated brick bed. When he saw Luo Longyu, a spark lit in his sunken eyes. His withered hand reached out to grasp the boy's small one, his cloudy gaze brimming with reluctant tears and worry.

Grandfather tried to speak, his voice low and rough: "My grandson... my dear boy, what will you do when I'm gone? How can Grandpa leave you? From now on, you must be good, study hard, and in the future you must... you must..." His voice faded away. His lips moved, but no sound emerged. The light died from his eyes, yet they did not close.

Four-year-old Longyu stared blankly at his grandfather. The village chief came in and, seeing Luo Longyu gently shaking the old man, came over to stop him.

Luo Longyu looked up at the chief. "What happened to my grandpa? Why is he sleeping with his eyes open?"

It wasn't until after that winter that Luo Longyu, sheltering from the rain in a cave with a village playmate, finally learned what death meant. Spotting a rabbit's corpse, its eyes wide open, Luo Longyu said, "Look, this rabbit's sleeping—sleeping with its eyes open."

His friend laughed, "Silly, that rabbit's dead, not sleeping."

"Dead? What's dead?"

"Well..." The friend pondered. "Dead means gone."

"Gone? But the rabbit's right here," Longyu argued, scratching his head.

The friend kicked the little corpse. "See? It doesn't move. That's death. You can't wake it, it can't talk or move or run anymore."

Luo Longyu stared at the rabbit, suddenly reminded of his grandfather lying still with open eyes. "What about my grandpa? He was sleeping with his eyes open too."

"Ha, your grandpa's dead," the friend laughed.

Longyu stood there, frozen, and after a long while murmured, "Dead? My grandpa... is gone? But the village chief told me he'd just gone far away."

"He lied. Your grandpa's buried behind the hill. I've been there—got a beating from my dad for it," the friend said, rubbing his backside at the memory.

Just then, a distant shout rang out. The friend’s face lit up. "Silly, my mom’s here!" He ran to the cave mouth and shouted, "Mom! Mom! I’m here!"

Soon a woman hurried up, umbrella in hand. "You rascal, playing without watching the time. When it rains, you’re still out—next year you’re going to school for sure... Oh, Longyu, you’re here too."

"Auntie." Luo Longyu called out quickly.

Her expression shifted; she instinctively drew her child close, as if Luo Longyu carried some contagious disease. Forcing a smile, she said, "Longyu, don’t stay out too late—hurry home, the village chief is looking for you." Without waiting for protest, she dragged her son away.

As they left, Luo Longyu heard her scolding in a low voice, "How many times have I told you, don’t play with that boy. His family has a disease."

"But Longyu seems fine," the boy protested.

A slap landed on the back of his head. "Keep talking and your father will sort you out!"

Watching them disappear up the rainy mountain path, Luo Longyu sat down, recalling his friend's words, and muttered, "Grandpa is dead... Grandpa is gone..." For reasons he couldn't name, a pain gripped his young heart—a sudden panic. Grandpa was gone; he would never return.

Luo Longyu trudged along the muddy path, letting the rain soak his thin frame. He did not know how many times he fell. All he could think was that his grandfather was gone and he was now a child nobody wanted.

Unknowingly, he reached the village chief’s house. The small wooden door was tightly shut. Since his grandfather’s death, the chief had taken him in, but for reasons unknown, the chief’s wife disliked him—much like the rest of the adults in the village.

Reaching out to push the door, Luo Longyu paused as an argument erupted inside.

"You really want to go after that little freak? I don’t understand what spell Old Luo cast on you. Don’t you know his family had a disease? The whole family’s dead! Do you want our family to end up the same?"

"You heartless woman! Do you hear yourself? Longyu’s just a child—how could you let him fend for himself? Has a dog eaten your heart? Go on, get inside. If you keep spouting nonsense, I'll deal with you myself!" the village chief shouted.

Listening to the quarrel, Luo Longyu’s mud-caked face clouded over. His hand, poised to open the door, slowly dropped. He turned and walked back into the rain—but where could such a small child possibly go?

Guided by instinct, he found himself at his old home. The ramshackle mud house was now a dangerous ruin. The door, its lock broken by the leaning wall, stood open a crack wide enough for a child. Inside was nothing but darkness, a gaping maw that might terrify any child.

Yet Luo Longyu felt no fear—only a strange sense of comfort. He slipped inside, feeling his way in the dim light that filtered through the broken roof into his room, curling up on the sagging kang bed. He remembered how, every night before sleep, he would bounce on this bed, his grandfather watching with a smile, sometimes mending his clothes by lamplight.

In winter, the kang was always warm from his grandfather’s care; the blankets almost burned. He would splay out in sleep, and his grandfather would quietly cover him.

The more he remembered, the sadder he became, until he couldn’t help but cry, softly calling, "Grandpa... Grandpa... where are you? Where are you? Longyu misses you so much..."

In the darkness, his quiet weeping grew weaker, a sound that could break one's heart. In a daze, Luo Longyu saw a beam of light and his grandfather's thin figure appeared, slowly gathering him into his arms...