Chapter 117: Man Eats Man

Perhaps it is due to my Nine Yin Absolute Pulse, but I seem to possess an innate sixth sense. It is a subtle, indefinable feeling, something I cannot quite put into words.

Watching Bai Ruoshuang busily helping the old woman pack her things, I forcefully tapped my forehead, thinking that perhaps I was just overthinking it. I walked over and joined in to help.

We finished quickly, and the old woman began pedaling her tricycle toward a nearby alley, while Bai Ruoshuang and I followed in our car. Soon, we arrived at an area of dilapidated buildings. This was one of the few places in the city that had not yet been developed, essentially a slum, mostly inhabited by migrant workers.

When we drove through the narrow lane, we could go no further, so we parked the car to the side. The path ahead turned muddy and sloped upward. As the old woman struggled to pedal the tricycle, Bai Ruoshuang and I hurriedly stepped in to help.

By the time we reached the old woman’s home, she looked utterly exhausted. She suffered from asthma, and she was gasping for air as if she might stop breathing at any moment. Seeing her in such a state, my heart ached. "Granny," I asked, "have you been living like this all these years? Where is your family?"

The old woman sighed. "They’re dead. They starved to death during the Great Famine." A trace of sorrow crossed her face as she spoke, as if she were reliving painful memories.

I didn't ask any more, knowing she was a pitiable soul. We helped her move the items into her house. The interior was shabby and dim; even with the fifteen-watt vintage light bulb turned on, it remained gloomily dark. Once inside, the old woman busied herself, telling us to sit for a moment while she went to the kitchen to boil soup and prepare rice noodle rolls.

Sitting at the square table, I felt an inexplicable sense of unease. Looking around, I felt a creeping sense of horror. As the saying goes, "While you shouldn't harbor intent to harm others, you must always be on guard against them." Subconsciously, I activated my Yin-Yang Eyes to scan the surroundings, but I found nothing amiss. I convinced myself I was overthinking it, perhaps because the bizarre and strange events I had recently experienced had left my nerves frayed.

Soon, a mouth-watering aroma drifted from the kitchen, making my stomach rumble with hunger. Bai Ruoshuang was already swallowing hard, her eyes bright. About ten minutes later, the old woman emerged with two large bowls of rice noodle rolls. Bai Ruoshuang, ever the glutton, began to eat voraciously.

Seeing us enjoy the meal, the old woman stood to the side, watching with a smile. "Slow down, dear, don't burn yourself," she said. "Since you’ve come to Granny’s house today, eat as much as you like. There’s plenty."

Bai Ruoshuang was delighted. "You’re so kind, Granny!"

The old woman continued to smile, as if lost in memory. "Your generation is so lucky. In my day, we never had such good things to eat!"

I was aware that forty years ago, there had been a very dark period in our history. The old woman explained that during the Great Famine, so many people starved that you could see corpses lying along the roads. Her family of seven had all perished, save for her.

Her eyes clouded with sorrow as she walked back toward the kitchen, continuing to tell us about those days. Many have heard of the severity of that famine; forget rice—people were digging up wild herbs and tree roots to survive.

I hesitated before saying, "Granny, my grandfather once told me that back then, people would eat yellow clay. They would fry it in a hot pan, sprinkle a little salt on it, and it would taste like a flatbread to stave off hunger."

The old woman, now back in the kitchen tending to her soup, replied, "Yes, your grandfather was right. Many people ate yellow clay. But while it tasted fine, it caused problems. The clay couldn't be digested, and it wouldn't pass through the body. Many people actually died from being bloated with that clay!"

Hearing this, a chill ran down my spine. "It’s truly a miracle that anyone survived those times," I said.

The old woman sighed. "It wasn't easy. But young man, do you know that the most terrifying thing about that era wasn't eating clay? It was something else. Do you want to know what it was?"

I took a few bites of my rice noodle rolls and said, "I don't know. My grandfather only ever mentioned the clay."

"Human flesh!"

As the words left her lips, I nearly spat out my food. Thinking I had misheard, I asked, "Granny, what did you say?"

The kitchen fell silent for a moment before the old woman’s voice drifted out again: "Human flesh. The flesh of the dead! Hehehe..."

A sinister laugh echoed from the kitchen, making my scalp crawl. The old woman continued, still laughing: "Don't be shocked, young man. In those days, a dead person was just meat. When people are starving, they will do anything. Haven't you heard of the ancient tales where people exchanged their own children to cook and eat them just to survive?"

The more I heard, the more wrong it felt. "Granny, please stop," I said urgently. "We’re trying to eat here; it’s quite distressing."

She ignored me. "During the famine, there was no rain for months. People died on the side of the road and rotted within days. That meat was poisonous, so if you wanted to eat, you had to act fast. It was best to bring the body home on the first day, butcher it, and cut it into pieces. Some were salted, others hung over the stove to smoke so the meat wouldn't spoil. It tasted very good."

"Of course," she continued, "that wasn't the best method. The best meat wasn't from the dead, but the living. You’d wander the roads, find someone starving to death, and follow them with a knife. When they were about to die, you’d slit their throat. That way, the meat quality was better, and the meal was even more delicious."

I felt a suffocating tightness in my chest. Although the kitchen still smelled of soup, the scent now filled me with nausea. I grabbed Bai Ruoshuang, signaling her to stop eating. Bai Ruoshuang was a true food lover; when she ate, her other senses were completely shut off, and she hadn't heard a word of the conversation.

"Mu Yu, what are you doing?" she asked, looking at me with annoyance.

"Stop eating!" I felt a knot of dread, unsure of what the old woman’s words truly implied. I stood up and carefully walked toward the kitchen. The old woman was still stirring the soup, describing how to prepare human flesh—how boiling it made for a better broth, and how the intestines were best for the rice rolls. My hair stood on end.

I reached the kitchen doorway, and the sight before me made my blood run cold. In the dim room, a rope hung from the rafters, laden with chunks of meat. At a glance, it looked ordinary, but upon closer inspection, I realized they were human arms and legs.

That wasn't the most horrifying part. Above the stove hung three human heads, smoked to a waxy yellow, swaying in the draft.