Song Nanxing surveyed the people inside the gymnasium, his brow twitching ever so slightly.
The staff had probably just come through distributing dinner; each bedside table held a boxed meal. Though these people looked somewhat dazed and silent, they could still take care of themselves. Song Nanxing walked past them, noticing some of them lowering their heads to eat.
Yet, the way they ate gave Song Nanxing a strange feeling.
He frowned, trying to figure out what was off, when he saw someone ahead pick up a chicken wing and put it into his mouth.
The wing was quite large, but that person chewed it—bone and all—and swallowed it whole.
Watching how he ate, Song Nanxing suddenly understood the source of his unease—they didn’t eat like humans at all.
His heart plummeted, and he quickly withdrew his gaze, not daring to look any longer, hastening toward his mother’s bed.
Du Shilin was sitting on her bed, turning her head to stare out the side window. The boxed meal on the table was already finished.
Song Nanxing tidied up her meal box, then took out a wet wipe to clean the grease smudged at the corner of her mouth. Only then did Du Shilin turn to look at him.
Her eyes fixed intently on Song Nanxing, lips slowly parting to utter broken words: “Hungry… so hungry.”
It was the first time she had spoken since Song Nanxing found her.
His expression lit up with joy. “Mom? It’s Xingxing.” He gripped Du Shilin’s hand tightly, his Adam’s apple moving as he croaked hoarsely, “I’ve grown up… maybe you don’t recognize me anymore?”
Du Shilin looked at him for a long moment, then asked in a puzzled tone, “Xingxing?”
Song Nanxing’s eyes watered, but a smile tugged at his lips. “Yes, I’m Xingxing.” He unwrapped a small cake box he had brought and picked up a piece to feed her. “Eat some cake first. Shen Du made it—it tastes a lot like the egg cakes you used to make.”
“He’s really good at cooking. Next time I come, I’ll bring you some more…”
Du Shilin opened her mouth and swallowed the small cake whole, barely chewing before it went down. Then she said again, “Hungry.”
At that moment, a few people from nearby beds noticed Song Nanxing’s cake and stared intently, murmuring “Hungry” as well.
Song Nanxing’s expression stiffened.
Seeing he didn’t move, Du Shilin reached for the cake herself, stuffing piece after piece into her mouth. When she finished, she muttered again, “So hungry.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t bring enough food today. I—I’ll go out and buy some for you.” Song Nanxing’s face was flustered as he stood quickly, almost dragging Shen Du away in a rush.
Once outside the gymnasium, breathing in the fresh air, the suffocating pressure in his chest finally eased.
Song Nanxing composed himself and apologized to Shen Du with some guilt: “Sorry, did I scare you?”
Shen Du shook his head. “Their condition doesn’t look right.”
Song Nanxing forced a smile but still explained hurriedly, “The news said some people suffer mild mental contamination, maybe because they’ve been lost in the Wuyu for too long. Their minds get fuzzy and disoriented, but it’s not irreversible. They can still care for themselves, and with family looking after them carefully and proper treatment, they can recover and return to normal life.”
His speech was rapid and anxious, as if trying to convince Shen Du—or perhaps himself.
Shen Du looked into his eyes and said softly, “Let’s go buy something for your mom first.”
Only then did Song Nanxing remember that his mother had said she was hungry. He pulled out his phone to navigate to the nearest supermarket. “There’s one about five kilometers away. Let’s buy a lot of food.”
Shen Du responded with a short “Mm,” placing his palm on Song Nanxing’s back in a reassuring gesture. “Let’s go.”
They left together, Song Nanxing forgetting even to ask whether they would be allowed back inside once outside.
As they exited the gym, the two encountered a pair of men sneaking in furtively.
Apparently surprised to run into someone, they stiffened. One man nervously straightened and greeted, “Brother, what a coincidence, you’re on patrol too?”
His eyes darted around them. Seeing they wore plain clothes and didn’t look like staff, he cautiously asked, “Where are you headed?”
Song Nanxing sized them up. Both looked around thirty, dust and leaves stuck in their hair and on their clothes, like they’d crawled in from somewhere outside.
He frowned slightly. “What are you sneaking in here for?”
The man stepped back warily, waving his hands. “Don’t misunderstand—we’re not bad people. Our little sister has been locked up here without visits or any way to send her things. We’re just worried and wanted to come see her. We’re not doing anything, just want to know she’s okay and then wait.”
They were also family members of missing persons. Song Nanxing relaxed his brow and nodded at them, saying nothing, then left.
The two men watched them go, somewhat dazed. One of them whispered, “Are they really staff? They don’t look like it.”
They went to get their car and headed to the supermarket.
Song Nanxing bought a variety of convenience foods before lugging a heavy bag back.
By the time they returned, it was already dark outside.
The gymnasium’s lights were on, casting a harsh, white glow over the whole space.
The staff had likely been through; the empty boxed meal wrappers had been cleared away.
As it was close to rest time, many people were already lying down to sleep. So, the two men gathered by the bedside of a girl against the left wall stood out prominently.
Their backs faced Song Nanxing as they spoke quietly in dialect around the girl’s bed. “Eat more, still hungry?”
The girl sitting by the bedside was blocked by their shadows; only a swirl of hair was visible.
A faint curve appeared at Song Nanxing’s lips, but he quickly recalled they hadn’t brought anything in. Then what were they feeding their sister?
He hesitated, glanced at his mother on the right side looking in this direction, and decided not to approach the left side.
Du Shilin saw him coming and crooked her lips into a stiff smile, calling out, “Xingxing.”
Song Nanxing’s nose tingled. He sat down beside her and set the bag full of various foods on his lap. Cheerfully, he asked, “I bought a lot of food. Which one do you want to eat first?”
Du Shilin didn’t look at the snacks. She stretched out her arms as if to hug him but murmured, “Hungry… so hungry.”
Song Nanxing bent down to her level, eyes reddening as he embraced her, burying his face in the hollow of her neck, tears spilling uncontrollably.
He choked out softly, “Mom.”
Du Shilin held him tightly in return.
A faint sting pricked Song Nanxing’s skin, like something had pierced beneath. It hurt slightly, but soon an overwhelming wave of happiness flooded him.
He shivered, growing colder, only holding her tighter, whispering again and again, “Mom, Mom.”
Nearby, Shen Du watched as roots curled around Song Nanxing’s feet, shadows swirling. His eyes flashed coldly, barely restraining the urge to tear apart what was before him.
Yet, he subdued the impulse. The shadows calmed, and Shen Du pressed a hand on Song Nanxing’s shoulder, softly calling, “Xingxing.”
Song Nanxing hid his face deeper into Du Shilin’s neck, not responding.
Shen Du softened his tone and spoke slowly: “Do you remember what I told you? Your eyes will deceive you, but your other senses won’t. You have to trust your intuition.”
Song Nanxing’s body trembled slightly.
Shen Du sighed. “Xingxing, you can tell.”
Song Nanxing gradually loosened his grip on Du Shilin’s hands, straightened, and looked at her, tears streaming down his face.
Du Shilin’s expression remained vacant and rigid, but large bark-like patches had grown across the side of her neck and cheek—no one knew when.
Sensing Song Nanxing’s resistance, she repeated, “Xingxing.”
He wiped his tears, his face utterly drained of expression.
Struggling, he pushed Du Shilin’s hands away, stood up, and stepped back to the edge of the bed. His voice was dry and hoarse as he said, “You’re not my mom.”
Shen Du had been right—his eyes lied to him, but his other senses did not.
The scent he remembered of his mother was warm, like freshly baked egg cake, soft like cotton dried in the sun—not this damp, decayed, nearly rotting smell.
She wasn’t his mother—just a monster that looked like her.
Du Shilin lifted her face to him, still calling “Xingxing” incessantly.
After a while, seeing no response, she said again, “Hungry… so hungry.”
Song Nanxing’s heart ached looking at that familiar face. Gathering all his strength, he stepped back once more and turned to Shen Du: “Something’s really wrong here. We have to report this immediately.”
Shen Du put an arm around him, guiding him out.
Behind them, Du Shilin watched their departure. Her vacant eyes glimmered with longing as she reached out, trying to follow, but tripped over scattered snack bags at her feet and fell.
Song Nanxing heard the noise, glanced back.
It was lying on the ground, looking up at him, calling, “Xingxing.”
His body shuddered. He squeezed his eyes shut tightly, struggling to suppress the overwhelming nausea and emotion, forcing the words out between clenched teeth: “Go out.”
Shen Du lowered his gaze and quietly asked, “Are you okay?”
Song Nanxing’s tears had dried. He pressed his lips together, not answering.
At the gym’s entrance, Song Nanxing suddenly recalled something. He looked to the bed against the left wall—the two men who had snuck in were still there, frozen in the same position by their sister’s bed from the moment they entered until now.
He took a deep breath, fighting down the chaos inside him, and stepped forward to call them.
But as he got closer, he saw their exposed skin had turned to bark.
Their “sister” sat on the bed, roots sprouting from her legs, twisting and burrowing into the two men’s bodies, writhing rapidly at the ends.
Even so, the two men remained motionless, their bark-covered faces glowing with the satisfaction and happiness of being reunited with family.