A horror story every night-2

Night Two: The Half-Faced Man

"The night is the perfect time for those bizarre stories," my friend stretched and took off his jacket, sitting cross-legged on the floor. His home had little furniture, and guests were expected to sit on the floor as he detested chairs, believing sitting on the floor was in keeping with ancient customs.

"Go on, tell me the story about the half-faced man," I urged.

"Ah, yes. This might be the most eerie tale I know. Even narrating it sends shivers down my spine. As usual, I was on one of my aimless travels, preferring secluded places—you know, they often harbor the most intriguing stories. Though previously, I'd only heard such tales, this time I experienced one firsthand.

I arrived at a village, quite large, almost a mini-city. The villagers each had different jobs, creating a self-sufficient economy, gradually isolating themselves from the outside world. Yet, they were very hospitable. Upon my arrival, they treated me with great kindness. Having studied medicine for a few years, I was able to treat some of their common illnesses, which earned me high regard and even the reputation of a miracle doctor," he laughed proudly. I knew his academic performance had been outstanding, and despite his disinterest in pursuing a medical career, his dedication to learning meant he could have been an exceptional doctor, inheritance or not. His happiness suggested the villagers must have really respected him.

"But not long after, the village chief invited me to his home. He was a figure of great respect, akin to a king in that community, always maintaining a dignified presence. However, he appeared rather humble, as if he needed a favor.

'You have become a godsend,' the chief praised continuously, almost making me giddy with pride. 'Is there someone ill in your family?' I asked, smiling. The chief seemed troubled, struggling to speak, until finally, he whispered, 'It's my son, about your age, a very promising young man. But for some reason, he locked himself away, stays in his room all day, only eating the meals we bring him, never showing himself. His mother and I are beside ourselves with worry. Heaven sent you to us; please, you must save him.' His plea was so heartfelt, he nearly knelt. The situation seemed complex, possibly beyond my medical skills, but I agreed to visit his home to assess the situation.

The chief's house was notably grander than average, a two-story brick building with a sizable front yard housing some poultry. The right side carried the smell of fresh vegetables (or perhaps manure from a nearby toilet and vegetable garden). The only unsettling aspect was a large, dark, aggressive dog that barked and growled at me, a stranger. Recognizing its danger, I hesitated until the chief shooed it away.

The chief's family welcomed me warmly, typical of hospitable rural folks. I wondered what ailment could afflict a child from such a normal family.

Upstairs, the chief led me to a room. 'This is where my son, Zhuzi, has shut himself away for a month. I'm at my wit's end. If you hadn't come, I'd have sought a doctor elsewhere,' he shared, clearly distressed.

'Have you spoken to him since he shut himself in?' I inquired.

The chief shook his head. I suggested he stay downstairs, thinking it might be psychological issues stemming from adolescence, and that the father's absence might help. My assumption was overly simplistic.

Once the chief left, muttering hopes for a cure, I knocked lightly on the rough wooden door, injuring myself slightly due to its coarseness. Predictably, Zhuzi didn't respond, so I began what I remembered from my psychology classes in college. Sadly, it had no effect. Growing anxious and curious after an hour, I noticed a small, irregular hole near the door's bottom corner. Peeking through, I could barely make out a tall silhouette on the bed, presumably Zhuzi, sitting motionlessly. On impulse, I shouted, 'Zhuzi, I see you sitting by the bed!'

His reaction was immediate and intense. He rolled on the bed, screaming, 'Don't look for me! I've been punished already!' This reaction indicated a grave situation. He soon lay still in a spread-eagle position.

I called for the chief to break down the door. It was sturdy, but we managed. Upon entering, the chief, puzzled, exclaimed, 'This isn't my son!'

The young man on the bed had dark skin, a broad forehead, a large hooked nose, and sparse, stiff whiskers on his thick lips, reminiscent of incompletely cleaned pork in a cafeteria. From any angle, he didn't resemble the chief.

'This is Xiao Liu, Zhuzi's close friend,' the chief clarified.

Looking at Xiao Liu's face, something seemed off, though I couldn't

pinpoint it at the time. Xiao Liu soon awoke, terrified and covering his right face, likely knowing something about Zhuzi's whereabouts. However, his emotional state was too unstable for questioning, so we let him rest while the chief and I went downstairs.

'Who is Xiao Liu? What kind of person is he?' I needed to understand Xiao Liu better.

'He's been inseparable from Zhuzi since they were kids,' the chief sighed. 'I disapproved because Xiao Liu was always lazy, dreaming of quick riches and dragging Zhuzi into nonsense schemes for future wealth. Zhuzi naively followed him. Such a tragedy.'

It seemed Xiao Liu was merely an unemployed drifter, but how did he end up in Zhuzi's room for half a month?

'When did you last see Zhuzi? What was the situation?' Suddenly, I felt more like a detective than a doctor, excitedly living out my childhood dream of sleuthing.

'A month ago. He rushed home one night, complaining of a stomachache, then ran upstairs and never came down again.'

'Are you sure it was Zhuzi? Did you notice Xiao Liu visiting?'

'It was definitely Zhuzi. How could I not recognize my own son?' the chief said, convinced.

Given the layout of the chief's home, it was possible for Zhuzi to have sneaked out and let Xiao Liu take his place. What was he avoiding? And why did my shout cause such panic and fear? Nonetheless, visiting Xiao Liu's home seemed the next step.

The chief led me to Xiao Liu's home, a markedly poor household. His parents, humble farmers, recognized me from a previous visit where I treated his mother's leg injury.

After pleasantries, we inquired about Xiao Liu's recent whereabouts. His parents, unaware of his month-long absence due to his habitual wandering, grew alarmed at the possibility of trouble.

'No, no, Zhuzi asked me to check on him,' the chief reassured, calming them slightly.

Leaving Xiao Liu's home, the chief grew more anxious.

'It seems Xiao Liu has been in that room since the day Zhuzi returned,' I mused, stroking my chin in thought.

The mystery deepened: where was Zhuzi? The answer would have to wait until Xiao Liu awoke.

But Xiao Liu never woke up.

Upon our return, we found Xiao Liu dead in the same position we left him, though he had been breathing when we departed.

With a death on our hands, the situation escalated beyond my control. I urged the chief to call the police.

'Police? We don't have any,' the chief said, shaking his head as if it were the most natural thing.

'How do you usually resolve issues?'

'We rely on the village to make decisions,' he explained, revealing a surprisingly ancient system of justice reminiscent of Zhou Wenwang.

I asked the chief to gather the villagers without alarming Xiao Liu's parents, sparing them grief and avoiding further complications. Alone with Xiao Liu's body, I examined it, relying on my medical training. There were no visible injuries, and despite only being gone for about an hour, the body was still warm but beginning to show livor mortis, though not significantly. What intrigued me was the asymmetry of his face; the left side drastically differed from the right, and the lividity on that side didn't change under thumb pressure, indicating it had set in longer than the rest of the body, a characteristic of corpses that had been stationary for some time.

Furthermore, the red hue of the lividity on his left face was typical of hypothermia victims.

But it was summer.

Puzzled, I left the room, feeling uneasy after so long without handling corpses. Downstairs, the chief had assembled key village figures to discuss possibly burying Xiao Liu quietly. I waited until they dispersed before asking the chief about any local places cold enough to cause death by freezing.

'Cold?' he puzzled over the question but then mentioned a storage cellar in the mountains used for keeping ice during summer heatwaves.

'Let's go there immediately,' I insisted, and despite his confusion, the chief obliged.

We quickly reached the cellar, which felt cold even from a distance. Inside, my intuition led us to a body, not Zhuzi's, but strangely dressed in city attire, curled up as if frozen to death, and most shockingly, without a face.

Imagine a faceless corpse, chillingly adorned with frost in the cold cellar, yet its posture suggested it was a man in his thirties.

We called for help but didn't move the body, fearing rapid decomposition. My theory linked this body to Xiao Liu's death and Zhuzi's disappearance. The villagers murmured among themselves, and I noticed the chief's uneasy expression. Whispered conversations revealed Zhuzi was in charge of the cellar, holding one of the only keys, alongside the chief, placing suspicion squarely on Zhuzi.

Two bodies in a row, both non-natural deaths. I reported it to the police despite the village chief's opposition, but the consensus was that reporting was the right thing to do. In the crowd, I saw not a sense of responsibility on some faces, but a schadenfreude, as if kicking someone when they're down. It seemed like they had two faces: one that sternly demanded justice for the deceased, and the other sneering in secret.

The police would take some time to arrive, so I pondered what else I could do. The village chief seemed displeased, understandably, as it seemed my arrival had brought two mysterious deaths to this quiet mountain village. No one would be happy about that.

The faceless corpse and Xiao Liu's bizarre left facial livor mortis made me suddenly think: what about the right face of the corpse in the ice cellar? I reconsidered everything and arrived at a conclusion, but I needed to confirm it with the village chief first.

I abruptly turned to the village chief, who was looking around in a daze. I pulled him aside and asked in a low voice, "Tell me, where have you hidden Zhu Zi?"

The village chief was shocked, "What are you talking about? I haven't seen my own Zhu Zi for over a month, and you're asking me?"

"Xiao Liu didn't stay there willingly, did he? Perhaps you locked him up?" I struck a match and lit a cigarette, not looking at the village chief because eye contact can be a weapon in conversation, but its effect diminishes with overuse.

Sure enough, the village chief started sweating profusely, his eyes darting around like dice in a shaker, yet he remained silent.

"When I first arrived to treat Xiao Liu's mother, she mentioned her son's chronic throat disease, how his voice was hoarse and very different from others. You couldn't have failed to hear Zhu Zi speak in all this time, could you? Even if not, you said you delivered food daily, but Xiao Liu's skin was dark, and Zhu Zi's wasn't, right? Did you never suspect anything? Alright, I admit these are assumptions, but it'll be futile to keep hiding things when the police arrive."

The village chief's forehead was covered in sweat. "I did hide Zhu Zi, but I won't hand him over because he's already faced retribution. Handing him to the police would only cause chaos."

"Retribution?" I asked, puzzled.

"Yes," the village chief said, starting to recount the horrific scene he witnessed a month ago.

"One evening after dinner with Zhu Zi's mother, Zhu Zi rushed home, rummaging through things and asking for money, saying he wanted to go away with Liu for a while. I sensed something was wrong, and after his mother left, I pressed him for answers. The kid had no guile and confessed everything. That's when I learned they had killed someone." The village chief said, tears streaming down his face, nearly choking on his words. I patted his shoulder, signaling him to calm down.

"He said they lured an outsider to buy ice, claiming the man wanted to open an ice bar and was interested in our unpolluted water ice for the wealthy. Persuaded by Xiao Liu, Zhu Zi led the man to the ice cellar. But when the man wanted to buy all the ice and threatened them if they refused, saying he'd bring others, they resisted because the ice was vital for the village's cooling needs. In the ensuing scuffle, Xiao Liu pushed the man, causing his face to smash into the jagged ice, disfiguring him. He screamed 'murder,' and Zhu Zi, in panic, struck him in the head with a block of ice, silencing him. Fearing the consequences, they fled home, planning to lay low."

"And the faceless corpse in the ice cellar?" I asked. Even if the face was severely damaged, it's different from being skinned.

"I don't know, maybe that's their retribution," the village chief continued.

"Finding out about this enraged me. I hit him with a stool, but he's still my son. Once the village learns about the ice cellar, he couldn't escape blame. I had no choice but to hide him, planning to eventually seal the ice cellar with an excuse. But a few days later, Zhu Zi's face began to change," the village chief's tone turned ominous.

"His right face started itching, then he constantly felt cold, followed by many spots, and eventually, it rotted, emitting a foul smell with pus-filled blisters. He cried in pain daily. Despite trying many remedies, nothing worked. After a while, his face healed, but, but..." the village chief paused.

"However, his right face had lost all sensation, as if he had suffered a stroke. He couldn't perform any actions on that side, couldn't even close his eye, and food and water would just leak out when he tried to eat or drink. He would often cry out about ghosts. Fearing it would draw others' attention, I had no choice but to hide him away, close to the pit toilet behind the house. And then Xiao Liu came too, saying he was experiencing similar symptoms and came looking for Zhu Zi out of fear. I had to hide Xiao Liu in Zhu Zi's room as well. To outsiders, I claimed Zhu Zi had contracted some strange illness and didn't want to see anyone. That's when you arrived, so I used you as a cover, since having a doctor visit but not allowing him to see Zhu Zi would certainly raise suspicions."

The village chief finally finished speaking. My cigarette had burned down. I slowly said to the village chief, "The man froze to death. It's likely that at the time, Zhu Zi and Xiao Liu had only knocked him unconscious. He could have been saved, but they, out of fear, locked him in the ice cellar, where he froze to death. As for the strange illness of Zhu Zi and Xiao Liu, I can't be sure, even though I'm theoretically an atheist. You should take me to see Zhu Zi first."

The village chief looked at me, and finally trusting me, nodded. After arranging for someone to handle the situation, he took me back to his house.

In the dark room in the backyard, I finally saw Zhu Zi. He was nearly demented, showing a fear of light and kept laughing foolishly. But that laughter was terrifying. Only half of his face was laughing. The village chief, wiping away tears, said, "Even if I have to support him for a lifetime, I will."

"Don't hit him, Xiao Liu, don't," Zhu Zi suddenly shouted, then like a madman, knelt on the ground and passed out. The village chief and I rushed to help him up. But when we straightened him out, his expressionless face suddenly showed a hint of a smile, albeit for just a moment, but I was sure I hadn't seen it wrong. It was a smile of triumph after revenge. And on that half of his face, I saw the same livor mortis spots that were on Xiao Liu's face.

"He's dead," I said softly after checking Zhu Zi's pupils. The village chief, like a child, started crying loudly, holding onto Zhu Zi's body. Tears and snot smeared Zhu Zi's face.

I stood up and walked out of the house. Suddenly, I remembered a book I had read a long time ago. It said that a person, if they cut off their own face with a strong grudge before dying, could seek revenge on others. I had thought it was nonsense, but it turned out to be true.

The matter was quickly resolved. The village chief was no longer the village chief, and the bodies of Zhu Zi and Xiao Liu were taken away. The evidence at the scene confirmed the village chief's story, and it was just as I thought—the face on the body in the ice cellar had been cut off by himself.

I left the village. Before leaving, I visited Xiao Liu's parents. They didn't show much sorrow, perhaps I just couldn't see it.

As I was sent away, the villagers were already discussing how to build a new ice cellar and plan to sell it."

I looked at my friend, whose face also carried a bizarre smile.

"Is that really possible? Cutting off one's own face to seek revenge on others?" I asked curiously.

"Who knows? Maybe Zhu Zi and Xiao Liu were just scaring themselves, but what they saw before they died, nobody knows. Moreover, it was said that during the autopsy, the livor mortis spots on their faces disappeared. Heh, strange, right?"

"It is strange. Ah, sometimes a crime is just a fleeting thought. Retribution is inescapable," I reflected.

"That's not necessarily true. Sometimes, misfortune finds you on its own. Like the salesperson who was obsessed with making their skin whiter."

"Oh? What's that story?"

"One night only tells one story," my friend stood up, smiling, "Let's talk about it tomorrow night, don't listen to too much or you might have nightmares. Go to sleep now, I'm tired from talking." After that, he went to his room.

I had no choice but to lie down and sleep. I fell asleep quickly, fortunately. Maybe sleeping during the day doesn't lead to nightmares as easily, and I had a comfortable sleep.