Chapter 8: Fleshed with Hair

Ning Qiushui suddenly paused mid-sentence, pulling several vacuum-sealed meat packages from the fridge. Unlabeled, each contained dark fibrous strands obscured by frost.

"Cut one open," he ordered Liu Chengfeng.

The burly man sliced the plastic—then froze. "Fuck me..."

Inside lay a hunk of meat sprouting thick human leg hair.

"This... this is people?!" Liu Chengfeng recoiled, dropping the frozen slab. The thud echoed like a death knell. He gagged, though rationally knowing they'd only eaten beef earlier.

Ning Qiushui retrieved the meat, examining it calmly before resealing it. "Now I know why the old woman refuses meat."

Liu Chengfeng wiped bile from his lips. "Why?"

"Someone force-fed her this before. Traumatized her." Ning Qiushui's gaze sharpened. "Notice the barred windows in her room? Like she's a prisoner."

Realization dawned. "You think her paralysis… was intentional?"

"Likely." Ning Qiushui selected lamb from the fridge. "But that's not the worst part. There's not a single family photo in this villa."

Liu Chengfeng's knife stilled. True—no pictures of the mistress, the girl, or the old woman anywhere.

"And the women's shoes by the door…" Ning Qiushui trailed off ominously. "Cook. Answers come tonight."

—

At dinner, Liu Chengfeng pushed his lamb away. Xue Guize noticed. "Not hungry?"

"Upset stomach," Liu Chengfeng lied. No one needed to know about the human meat.

Yan Youping's plea broke the tension: "I can't sleep alone!"

Bei Dao offered: "Share our room. You take the bed."

Ning Qiushui watched coldly. No amount of bodies could stop the villa's hunger.

As lights dimmed, Ning Qiushui lingered in the blackened corridor. A metallic click froze his blood—

The third-floor lock had opened.

Something was descending.

Behind him.