The Night Watcher of Great Jing - Chapter 79

The sun had set, and curfew was approaching. All of Jiahui Ward lay silent.

Only an occasional bark sounded from behind the ward walls.

A young man in a short green tunic huddled, trembling, inside a wardrobe.

Outside, the night watchman passed, striking his clappers twice.

Curled within the wardrobe, the man smelled the camphor used to protect the clothes from insects.

He buried himself in the garments and did not dare breathe.

Footsteps pattered outside.

A fair, delicate foot dragged along inside a red slipper.

The contrast of red and white made the tender foot look especially smooth and enticing.

“Husband, let’s make a baby!”

In the darkness, the woman wore nothing but a red gauze robe that half concealed the lush color of her chest. Her voice was soft and coaxing.

But to the man inside the wardrobe, it sounded like death calling his name.

He clamped both hands over his mouth, trying to make himself quieter. Quieter still.

Even his breathing became cautious. Hot sweat ran from his temples.

The woman’s shadow passed once across the crack before the wardrobe doors.

His entire body tightened.

“Husband.”

The woman called for him as she walked around the room.

Apparently finding nothing, she called sweetly again and wandered outside.

A long time passed.

The man listened closely. There seemed to be no more sound.

His rigid body gradually relaxed. He carefully removed the hand covering his nose and mouth and drew a breath of fresh air.

He did not leave rashly.

Still huddled inside the wardrobe, he intended to wait until dawn.

No further sound came from outside. Just as drowsiness overtook him and he was nearly asleep, a dog suddenly barked beyond the courtyard.

The neighbor’s dog seemed to have seen something terrible. It barked without pause, every cry shrill.

Already stretched taut, the man jerked and struck the wardrobe with his leg.

A muffled thump sounded.

Startled, he immediately covered his mouth again and did not dare move.

He listened intently for a long while.

Nothing outside seemed to have changed.

He relaxed once more and raised a sleeve to wipe cold sweat from his brow.

As his arm moved, he glimpsed something glowing red.

His entire body froze.

Something clung to the wardrobe door, pulsing with dim red light.

It was too dark to see clearly, so the man could not help leaning closer.

Then a delighted voice broke the silence.

“Husband.”

All color drained from his face. His heart seemed to stop beating.

The red light flickered again.

It was a pair of eyes.

“Husband, let’s make a baby.”

The tightly shut wardrobe doors flew open with a bang.

Two pale hands reached inside and dragged him out.

He screamed.

The clothes inside collapsed over him, covering his head and face.

He shrieked and clawed at the garments, desperate to tear them away and escape.

Unable to see, he sank into terror of the unknown.

As he struggled, something gripped his ankles like iron pincers and forced his legs apart.

The woman’s slender body pressed between them.

“Husband, let’s make a baby.”

Her voice had grown hoarse, filled with suppressed desire.

Cold air washed over the man’s chest as every layer of clothing was ripped from his body.

Something soft and wet slid across his chest before stopping over his abdomen.

It circled his navel once, then nudged inward and released a flood of cold mucus.

A hard tip pressed against the folds of his navel and forced them apart with irresistible strength, burrowing into his abdominal cavity.

The man’s screams echoed beneath the night sky.

At last, he tore the clothes away from his head and looked down.

Moonlight flowed like water through the window and across the floor.

An unhealthy crimson flush covered his wife’s familiar face.

His gaze moved lower.

A translucent, flesh-colored tube slick with mucus extended from his wife’s abdomen.

Its other end had entered his navel.

Through the tearing agony and swollen fullness, the man clearly felt something soft stirring among his organs, probing and sucking.

Wet, squirming noises came from his belly.

The tube abruptly convulsed.

A string of objects the size of glutinous rice balls traveled along it toward him.

The man could even feel the round things rolling into his abdomen, attaching themselves to his intestinal walls, extending tiny clawlike spines, and implanting inside him.

“Husband, let’s make a baby,” his wife whispered sweetly, pressing her face beside his ear.

“Ah!”

Yang Jian bolted upright in bed.

Still in shock, he looked wildly around and felt his flat abdomen.

Morning sunlight filled the room. The air carried the clean scent of quilts dried in the sun.

“Husband, what’s wrong?”

A graceful woman entered.

This was Yang Jian’s wife, Zhang E.

Yang Jian sat drenched in sweat, afraid as she approached.

Zhang E did not seem to notice. She smiled gently.

“I’ve made breakfast. Come and eat, Husband.”

With that, she turned and left.

Yang Jian sat dazed for a long time, staring at his wife’s slender, beautiful back.

Recently, she had grown thinner, more beautiful, and much more diligent.

She had been a good wife before, but… not this good.

So good that his scalp crawled and nightmares plagued him every night.

Yang Jian involuntarily touched his lower abdomen.

After a long while, his wife called again from the outer room.

He was deeply afraid of the woman she had become and did not dare disobey her. He hurried from the bedroom.

On a small square table beside the stove, she had set out a bowl of thick millet porridge, a steamer full of white-flour buns, and two boiled eggs.

It was an extraordinarily lavish breakfast.

Yang Jian did not understand why she had prepared such good food in the morning. Ordinarily, he would have loudly rebuked her for wasting money.

Now, he merely swallowed.

A burning hunger crawled from his stomach.

He went to the table and tore a huge bite from one of the buns.

Yang Jian devoured everything before him. Even then, his abdomen remained perfectly flat, without the slightest bulge.

He swallowed the final mouthful of bun and gave a satisfied burp.

Seeing him eat with such appetite, Zhang E smiled with heartfelt satisfaction.

“Eat more. Eat more.”

Her expression resembled an old farmer watching carefully planted seedlings drink their fill and stretch toward the sky.

A chill ran through Yang Jian as he stared at her smiling face.

He hastily wiped his mouth, rose, and picked up his peddler’s carrying pole.

“Husband, you’ve looked tired these past few days. Why not stay home?”

In the past, Zhang E had always urged Yang Jian to go out and earn money. Now her face held concern.

Yang Jian wanted none of it.

He would rather wear the soles from his shoes walking outside than remain under the same roof with his wife.

Unable to dissuade him, Zhang E watched his retreating back and sighed.

“I’ll stew some meat tonight to strengthen him.”

“He’s carrying children now. He ought to eat well.”