[{"data":1,"prerenderedAt":-1},["ShallowReactive",2],{"origin-survival-guide-in-a-mysterious-world":3,"chapter-survival-guide-in-a-mysterious-world-survival-guide-in-a-mysterious-world-chapter-111":6},{"origin":4,"title":5},"chinese","Survival Guide in a Mysterious World",{"chapter":7,"nextChapterSlug":19,"prevChapterSlug":20,"totalChapters":21,"novelImage":22},{"id":8,"novel_id":9,"title":10,"slug":11,"index":12,"content":13,"wordcount":14,"created_at":15,"updated_at":15,"volume":16,"translator":17,"content_hash":18},2299080,4497,"Chapter 111: Record of Strange Scenery","survival-guide-in-a-mysterious-world-chapter-111",111,"\u003Cp>Scritch-scratch-scratch… The rough friction between two pieces of wood emitted a gritty rustling sound; Ji Taimei pushed open the coffin lid above him with trembling hands, and brilliant sunlight spilled down, causing his eyeballs to ache slightly.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Looking around, Ji Taimei found himself standing on a set of steps; a black pine coffin sat beneath the eave of a farmhouse, the plastic sheet covering it now slipped to the ground from his earlier movement.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Trembling, Ji Taimei crawled out of the coffin; confusion and fear filled his mind, yet his chest cavity held a heart that did not stir—making him wonder if he was truly thinking with his brain at all.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Just as electrical signals through silicon transistors—on or off—form the foundation of the digital world’s 0s and 1s, human “consciousness” is fundamentally the constant exchange of bioelectrical signals among neurons.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And when the heart stops, the brain dies, and the neurons turn to dead flesh with no bioelectrical activity remaining…\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Then what, at that moment, is “thought,” “consciousness,” “self”?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>There was no time left for Ji Taimei to ponder this question, for the first thing he saw after climbing from the coffin was a grove of emerald bamboo; the second was a well in a clearing within the bamboo, its cover half-removed, where two children—apparently eleven or twelve years old—crouched at the well’s edge, tiptoeing eagerly to peer inside.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Jingyan, look! Little Hua is eating steamed buns!” The little girl shook the shoulder of the boy beside her, named Jingyan, her voice brimming with excitement.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They were feeding pieces of steamed bun to the fish in the well.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Fish in the wells of Yanglao Village were not unusual; rural folk lacked sophisticated instruments to test water quality, so they kept one or two carp or river turtles in the well, using the fish or shrimp’s sickness or death to judge whether the water had been polluted or poisoned—simple and practical.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Stop staring at the fish, Xiaorong. Look behind you,” said the boy Jingyan, grabbing the hand of the girl beside him, Xiaorong, and pointing toward the farmhouse: “The coffin’s open.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Oh no…” The excitement on Xiaorong’s face instantly turned to fear; she gripped the half-steamed bun in her hand tightly: “When did it open…?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Seems just now—I heard the coffin creak,” said Jingyan. “Dad says a moving coffin is bad luck. Let’s go home.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Alright.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Xiaorong and Jingyan ran hand-in-hand out of the bamboo grove, racing each other to see who reached home first could hug Xiaohei.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>What was Xiaohei? Probably a black cat or black dog they kept as a pet.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Ji Taimei stood frozen, watching the children’s bouncing figures fade into the distance, wanting to shout and call them back—but all he could produce was a hoarse “ah… ah…”—his throat had been eaten by Wang Nainai last night.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“What’s going on…”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Helplessly watching the children vanish from sight, Ji Taimei approached the well, braced his hands on the rim, and leaned forward to gaze at his reflection on the water’s surface:\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>His clothes were tattered; both his outer shirt and inner sleeve had been torn apart by Wang Nainai’s bites, drenched in blood. Beneath the rags, what lay exposed was not human skin—but a network of grotesque, horrifying scars, beneath which flaccid organs could faintly be seen.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The skin from his cheekbones to his chin had been almost entirely gnawed away; bloodied gums and jawbones wrapped in muscle fibers were exposed. His upper face was normal; his lower face was a skull draped in ragged, decaying flesh—an image straight from a horror film, like a zombie or ghoul.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Such a monstrous creature standing before one would make even an adult scream in terror—yet Jingyan and Xiaorong had shown no fear or concern. They seemed to have seen nothing at all of Ji Taimei standing before the coffin, merely muttered a few words about the coffin being bad luck, then ran far away.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Maybe it’s not that they didn’t see me… but that they truly couldn’t see me…”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A chill spread through Ji Taimei’s heart. He turned and looked at the half-removed well cover lying beside the well.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He remembered this well: its cover was shaped like the yin-yang fish, divided into two halves. The half now on the ground was the one containing the tiny dot of yang within yin.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Ji Taimei crouched down and saw, etched into the half-cover on the ground, a small character carved with a sharp tool: “ Zao .” He recognized it—he had carved it himself as a child, using a knife, imitating Mr. Lu Xun.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Behind his grandmother’s courtyard, on the hillside, grew a wild fruit called “nongnongzi” in the local dialect; its Chinese name was Nan Suanzao, a southern wild fruit native to Qinzhou, rarely seen in central regions. Those few trees had been brought back and planted by his grandfather, who had once been sent there as a sent-down youth.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The pits of Nan Suanzao were beautiful and could be strung into rosaries like bodhi seeds. As a child, Ji Taimei had promised his mother they would climb the hill together to collect the fruit and make rosaries for her and his sister. But that year, when his mother brought him to Yanglao Village for a visit, it was already late autumn, nearly winter—too late to gather the wild fruit.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Filled with regret, Ji Taimei imitated Lu Xun from his textbook and carved the character “ Zao ” into the well cover behind his grandmother’s house, meaning he must come back early next year.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>That was his last memory of returning to his grandmother’s home.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Which means…” Ji Taimei’s gaze sharpened, turning to the coffin that had just held him, placed beneath the eave.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The house beneath this eave, with the coffin beside it, was his grandfather’s and grandmother’s home.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The brick building with its glazed-tile roof slowly merged in his mind with the old house where he and his sister had once sat on small stools eating watermelon; Ji Taimei no longer doubted—this was his mother’s parental home.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He took off his coat and shirt, wrapped them around his face to avoid frightening the elders, and hurried toward the front door. It stood open; on either side were pasted a pair of couplets:\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Upper line: “Reunion recalls first meeting; parting grieves this moment.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Lower line: “Eyes see the same scene; hearts hold different aspirations.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The horizontal banner was torn and frayed, the characters unreadable.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>No mistake—this was his grandfather’s handwriting! Ji Taimei’s memories sharpened. He stepped over the threshold and entered the house, walking confidently to the bedroom on the left—the same room that had also served as his grandfather’s study, where he often drank tea, read books, wrote, and slept.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But as he stepped into the bedroom, Ji Taimei froze rigid, his mouth gaping wide—if his throat hadn’t been ruined, he would have screamed. Now, all that escaped him was a hoarse, bubbling “ah… ah…”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>What terrifying sight lay before him…\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The bookshelf beside the bed was crammed with volumes; on his grandfather’s desk, a cup of hot tea steamed with a faint, fragrant aroma. The white-haired old man sat on the edge of the bed, sipping tea and reading—a scene identical to Ji Taimei’s memories.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But beside his grandfather sat a slumped teenager, dark circles under his eyes from years of late-night internet use, his posture still upright but his aura strangely lifeless.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This person was far too familiar to Ji Taimei.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Because it was himself.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Grandpa, do you know where my sister went?” the boy on the bed asked his grandfather. “Mom told me to find her.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“No idea,” said the grandfather, shaking his head and sipping tea. “Your grandma took her off early to pay respects to the Earth God, said she wanted to bring back some incense ash to mix in the child’s water. Honestly, it’s all feudal superstition.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After speaking, the grandfather spat out the tea leaves. As a former sent-down youth, he held little regard for worshiping the Earth God.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The boy beside him nodded in agreement, saying he didn’t believe in ghosts or gods either.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The grandfather and grandson chatted as if no one else were present, utterly unaware that a figure stood at the bedroom door.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A figure, scarred from head to toe, flesh torn open, resembling a skeleton, eyes filled with bitter hatred.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>(End of Chapter)\u003C\u002Fp>",1398,"2026-06-20T06:29:21.893Z",1,"Qwen3-Next 80B","915c1a191e8e6830f0eccfe94bb6344b36e6c95b4209698e88cbfa34828d7d5a","survival-guide-in-a-mysterious-world-chapter-112","survival-guide-in-a-mysterious-world-chapter-110",353,"https:\u002F\u002Fnovelzhen.com\u002Fimages\u002Fcovers\u002Fsurvival-guide-in-a-mysterious-world-cover.jpg"]