As the two of us were halfway there, we saw more men and women, carrying hoes and sickles from their homes, heading in that direction.
The women who had previously pitied the children were now at the very front, their hair a mess, their whole demeanor crazed as they charged forward.
From a distance, the village cultural center was already surrounded by people.
A woman at the front rushed forward, grabbing a hoe and striking at the group of people forming a blockade. The outer circle of the cordon consisted of a few old women and some of the men from their group.
Their faces were as emotionless as soulless corpses. They just stood there blankly, neither dodging nor fighting back, strangely rigid.
The woman at the front grew more violent; several people were already bleeding from their heads.
The village chief ran out from the cultural center, his face gaunt and shiny, his body nothing but skin and bones.
The villagers paid him no mind and just surged forward.
Even someone as detached as me felt a stir of outrage. To think that these children, who had overcome so many hardships to survive, would die at the hands of these people, destroying the hopes of so many—how could one not be furious?
The chief shouted a few times but no one listened. He grabbed a large bowl from the windowsill and smashed it on the ground.
The "crash" made the frenzied men pause, but the women continued to tear into each other.
The village chief yelled, "I have failed you all! I will give my life to you as an apology!"
The chief collapsed, holding his head, his voice hoarse. "At first, I heard that son of a bitch Son say they knew how to grow straw mushrooms, so I agreed. You all saw it, the fields are barren and we can't harvest a single grain, the granary is emptying day by day. I just wanted to find a way for the whole village to survive."
Tears and snot streamed down the chief's face as he wept pitifully, but the villagers just stood there, glaring, clearly unmoved.
Cuong, who was enraged over the loss of his child, heard this and hurled his hoe handle at the chief, forcing the man to dodge wretchedly.
"You're lying! Cut the holier-than-thou act! If you were really doing it for everyone, you wouldn't have let your nephew secretly carry baskets over to the neighboring village last night. Weren't you just trying to hoard some grain for yourself..."
The family who had lost someone to this was the wife of the chief's nephew. Her hair was disheveled as she shrieked and cursed, "For doing such a wicked thing, do you want our family line to be wiped out..."
"Who knows what this thing is? Can it be transmitted to people..."
...
Whispered rumors spread everywhere, and everyone began to fear for their own safety.
Those who had traded for the mushrooms collapsed to the ground, their faces ashen.
...
Someone in the crowd yelled, "Where's Son? Drag him out here..."
Everyone joined in, cursing and shouting Son's name.
The village chief scrambled up from the ground, blood from a wound on his head covering his face, his expression incredibly fierce.
Everyone stormed inside. The few guards at the door were no match for the strength of the farmers.
As everyone pushed into the house, a woman dressed very fashionably stepped out.
Her entire body was as white as a sheet of paper. She said with a deadpan face, "Son died a long time ago. You don't need to look for him."
The woman's gaze was incredibly cold. In the forty-plus degree heat, it sent a chill down one's spine. Her voice was stiff, as if she hadn't spoken in a very long time.
Son's death was truly unexpected. I had met the man once at the village meeting and knew he was a cunning, malicious villain. How could he have died so easily?
The woman's eyes swept coldly around the crowd, her voice somber. "I know you don't believe me. Come, I'll show you."
After speaking, she moved stiffly back into the house. In a moment, she dragged out an arm, and step by step, pulled the corpse lying on the ground outside.
The men from the village hesitated; this woman was too bizarre.
The person being dragged out was indeed Son. His expression was savage, his eyes wide open, and his stomach was a bloody mess.
The woman threw the corpse down in front of us.
The village men, though strong, had never seen such a gruesome death. They took a frightened step back.
The woman ignored everyone's horror and laughed coldly. "See? He's right here."
Seeing Son's body, the straw mushroom growers immediately gathered in front of the woman. Adults and children alike wore blank expressions; their cold-bloodedness was terrifying.
Cuong spat on the ground. "Get lost! What the hell did you feed us? Hand over the antidote, now!"
Seeing Cuong speak up bravely, the others also crowded forward.
The woman just sneered and said nothing.
The people who had been silently following her suddenly went berserk, as if they had taken drugs, and charged at the villagers in front.
Caught by surprise, the villagers took a few punches and kicks. When they collected themselves, their attackers were no match for the strength of the burly farmers and were quickly beaten to the ground.
Just as everyone relaxed, they noticed the woman remained strangely calm at the scene, showing no reaction.
Unexpectedly, one of the people on the ground suddenly sank his teeth into a man's arm, causing him to scream in pain.
The others began to follow suit.
A chill went through my heart. My grandfather's words flashed in my mind: this virus was likely transmitted through the blood.
I quickly shouted, "Hurry, don't let them bite you! They have a virus! You'll get infected if you're bitten!"
Hearing this, the villagers were so scared their faces went deathly pale. They hurriedly kicked the attackers away to keep them from touching them.
I saw Fatty Bang tangled up with two women, struggling to get free. I lunged forward, grabbed one woman's hair, and slammed her to the ground. Her eyes rolled back, and she fainted.
I spun around and delivered a kick to the other woman's stomach, sending her flying. She couldn't get back up right away.