Legend of the Golden Corpse in the Flames of War

He ran wildly through the darkness, unsure if he could catch up with her.
Now, everything was gone! His parents, his family, and his brother had all been lost in the defense of Saigon.
His family were overseas Chinese from Cholon, Vietnam; they had always believed Vietnam would never fall, but that was unthinkable…
He ran, the night sky dotted with the sounds of artillery fire and the clatter of machine guns.
They had planned to escape to Jijing City in Dongpu, where their family owned a grain store.
Now, on the other side of the mountains, a group of North Vietnamese soldiers had captured a lone young woman; anyone could imagine
the fate that awaited her!
Two soldiers held down the girl's arms, her ankles were gripped by the man's iron-like hands, her snow-white thighs were
pulled high, and the man's erect penis was forcibly inserted into her virgin vagina...
At that moment, she almost heard the sound of her flesh being torn apart, but the men ignored her feelings. One
finished , and another thrust his penis into her vagina!
All twelve had taken their turn. The girl could no longer stand, but as they left, she whispered something, as if her ordeal
was not yet over.
Then, in the moonlight, the bayonets gleamed, and suddenly they stabbed down...
About fifteen minutes later, a burst of submachine gun fire rang out, and a row of people fell like dominoes...
The moon was about to set.
He ran around for a while, then stopped to look around or listen.
They had agreed to meet near this border, and he didn't think she would break her promise unless something extremely unexpected happened.
The moon finally set, and darkness enveloped the plains.
A twenty-year-old boy arrived in this desolate wilderness, fraught with danger. North Vietnamese and Viet Cong soldiers showed no mercy to those fleeing
abroad , especially the Chinese living within Vietnamese government-controlled territory, whom they treated with particular cruelty.
Just then, he heard heavy footsteps.
His first thought was one of delight! Someone was heading this way, and it was very likely her. However
, he immediately dismissed the possibility, for the footsteps were incredibly heavy. Even a
tall man fleeing in the dark should walk quietly.
So he crouched down and looked back.
Having grown up in turbulent times, his reflexes were quick; he constantly reminded himself of the danger.
The heavy, slow footsteps grew closer.
"Could someone be injured?"
Injured people usually make more noise when they walk.
Generally, an injured person would be panting, but at less than fifty paces away, he heard no
panting.
He could now see a blurry figure, and his excitement returned, for the person's build resembled a woman's,
even very much like her.
The closer the footsteps got, the more his heart pounded.
He was certain it was her. Although her gait was strange—her legs seemed frozen and unable to bend, her steps heavy—
within three steps, he was absolutely certain it was her.
He couldn't help but cry out in excited tears, opening his arms wide: "You…you…" He rushed forward and embraced her.
It was indeed her! He held her, kissed her, and sucked the dried tears from her face.
Only after a long time did he realize how cold and stiff her body was, and how sticky and damp it was.
He released her: "You…why aren't you saying anything?"
She stood there blankly, her eyes cold and unfocused.
"What…what happened to you?" She didn't answer, nor did she show any reaction.
"You…tell me, you're probably in great distress. You…say something…" He grabbed her hand
; it was hard and cold.
He remembered her hands had always been soft and limp; perhaps she was terrified, which was why her whole body was so cold.
“Come on! Although we are unfortunate, if we can cross the border to Cambodia, we will still be happier than those who stay behind
…”
But she stood still.
“Why aren’t you going? Are you too tired to walk?” She remained silent.
He thought: A person who has suffered great fright will become demented!
“Come on, let me carry you for a while…” He squatted down, but she didn’t lean on his back.
“Come on! Let me carry you.” She still didn’t move.
He looked back at her sarong, the kind Vietnamese women wear, like a Chinese cheongsam, with a very high slit reaching her waist, and no trousers
below .
“Is her lower body naked?”
He reached out and touched her legs; above the knees, she was still naked. Vietnamese women who wear sarongs always wear trousers.
Normally, if he touched her above the knees, she would brush his hand away.
They had a deep friendship, but they had never had a physical relationship.
Because she wasn't wearing pants, he deduced something terrible: in this chaotic world,
it was all too common for a single young woman to be raped by stragglers.
"Then she must have been raped, which is why she's become mentally unstable from anger and despair," he thought.
So he wanted to ask her, "Why aren't you wearing pants?" but swallowed the question back, along with some
salty tears.
"Try to be positive. These days, no matter what happens, you have to endure. Come on! Lie on me, I'll carry you for a while
!"
"..." She stood motionless.
"Time is precious, we need to cover as much distance as possible in the night!" He had no choice but to put his arms behind her back and carry her on his back.
But her body remained stiff, making it very difficult to carry; one wrong move and she would fall backward.
After about ten steps, he suddenly felt her cool hands gripping his neck.
"Yes...yes! Hold me tight, or you'll fall..."
But before he could finish, he suddenly felt her hands tighten...tighten...
Because her hands were cold and hard, he immediately felt his face flush red and his breathing become labored, and she continued to tighten her grip.
"What...what's wrong with you!" He felt increasingly uneasy.
He gasped, "Someone bullied you...you shouldn't have taken it out on me..."
He threw himself down, and she fell to the ground, but she was still choking him.
He struggled fiercely, because if he couldn't break free, he would be strangled to death.
Luckily, he flipped her over, and her body somersaulted, so her hands and arms were twisted backwards. With his struggle, he
finally broke free, but he also stumbled back five or six steps and fell flat on his back.
He rubbed his neck, panting heavily, not knowing why. He felt that what had just happened was too terrifying.
He slowly approached, reaching out to grab her, intending to pull her up and ask why she considered him her enemy.
But his hand touched a sticky, wet liquid.
"What...what is this?" He reached out again.
This area was her waist. His hand groped in the wet area, finding a small hole in her skin. He
gently pressed his finger into the hole. "Ah..." he cried out in shock. His finger had actually penetrated the small hole.
The hole was in her waist; his middle finger had inserted about two inches into her flesh.
But he found that she was lying motionless on the ground.
He sniffed his finger; it smelled of blood. He took three steps back, trembling involuntarily.
No wonder her body was ice-cold! No wonder her body was stiff! No wonder she couldn't speak, her eyes were fixed, and her legs couldn't
bend. She had been shot, or stabbed, and was already dead!
Tears immediately welled up in his eyes, but he thought it was too unfair. Everyone
deserved .
He approached, timidly crouching down to check her pulse, but it was already stiff; there was no pulse.
He touched her heart; it was cold and hard, showing no signs of life.
He sat down and wept bitterly.
He was still a big boy, only twenty years old!
But then, he lowered his hand in horror and looked down.
It was dark, but even up close, he could vaguely see her expression.
A chill ran through him as he suddenly noticed her large, bright eyes, seemingly smiling at the ground.
Smiling? Can a dead person smile?
He looked down more closely and indeed, she was smiling, but because her jawbone was already stiff, it was difficult for her to open her mouth,
producing a "clucking" sound. This twenty-year-old boy was truly helpless, only able to weep and grieve.
Just then, heavy and chaotic footsteps came from the road; it was clear there were more than three or five people.
He immediately hid in a crevice in the rocks.
A line of shadowy figures approached, each with heavy steps and an upright posture, just like her gait just moments before
.
A chill ran down his spine.
He counted twelve people; all twelve seemed to be carrying guns.
The twelve men stood before her corpse. He stepped back three paces, but even then, he could see their eyes were
closed . They stood motionless, silent, not even a whisper of breath.
His scalp sloughed off layer by layer; he trembled uncontrollably, for for his age, his experience was far too
horrific.
"Could it be more dead bodies?" The thought chilled him to the bone.
Suddenly, all twelve men opened their eyes simultaneously, their movements perfectly synchronized, not a second apart.
Their eyeballs were completely red, like a row of tiny, blood-red light bulbs.
And he believed those blood-red eyes were staring at him; he felt paralyzed, his entire body numb.
"Whoosh! Whoosh..." It seemed one of the twelve men made a "whoosh whoosh" sound as he walked into the crevice.
"Thump... thump... thump... thump..." The twelve men's steps were synchronized and heavy, as if the earth itself was shaking.
He experienced the feeling of being about to die; he couldn't shout, he couldn't run, he couldn't even move his body, it seemed
he could only wait to be slaughtered.
"Whoosh..." The one in the lead, perhaps the squad leader, made another strange sound, and the twelve men immediately stopped less than
ten paces away from him.
"Dead... captured by the Viet Cong... not only will we not survive... we'll probably die a horrible death..." "Whoosh!
" Another strange cry, and all eleven men took their rifles off their shoulders.
They were probably some kind of outdated rifle.
"Whoosh!" The squad leader seemed to be giving an order again.
The eleven soldiers, with very stiff and clumsy movements, leveled their rifles, all eleven muzzles pointing at
him.
"It's over...it's really over...she...wait for me...let's go together..."
At this moment, running was impossible.
"Whoosh!"
"Bang..." Eleven gunshots rang out simultaneously, as if in one voice, but the sound was enormous and deafening.
Overwhelmed by the shock and terror,
he lost consciousness...when he awoke, his eyes were still closed, and he felt shivering with cold.
His heart was pounding. He was being held by her; her hands and body were cold, her
face expressionless. Twelve armed soldiers surrounded her.
She tried to move to the left, but the soldiers there blocked her way; she tried to move to the right, but the same thing happened. Neither direction offered an escape
from the encirclement .
Suddenly, a surge of righteous indignation replaced his fear. In her arms, he kicked a soldier to the ground.
But after falling, he bounced back up like a roly-poly toy.
He screamed in terror and struggled violently.
She held him tightly; it felt like he was being squeezed between icy stones.
As she carried him away, he took a gun from a soldier—a submachine gun—and
sprayed bullets at five or six of the twelve men.
Two fell, the rest remained standing; he didn't know why some were afraid of guns while others weren't.
When he aimed at one of them in the heart, he fell.
But he was out of bullets, and her arm suddenly loosened, freeing him.
He realized it was almost dawn, and he could see the twelve men clearly; they were all riddled with bullets, all in vital areas—clearly
zombies.
He'd heard that in the deep mountains bordering northwestern Vietnam and southeastern Cambodia lived the indigenous Gaoshan people,
a tribe with terrifying witchcraft. They believed that any man or woman who committed adultery in their cemetery would become a zombie, only
falling after their heart was destroyed.
Therefore, he guessed what had happened between her and these North Vietnamese soldiers: the twelve soldiers must have gang-raped
her first, then killed her with bayonets. But soon, these North Vietnamese soldiers were shot dead by scattered South Vietnamese troops who had fled into the mountains
.
During the fall of Vietnam, many Vietnamese soldiers did not lay down their weapons and went into the mountains to wage guerrilla warfare, fighting against the communists.
He also realized that these zombies naturally wouldn't aim and shoot; otherwise, he wouldn't have had a chance to survive.
He grabbed another submachine gun and shot down the remaining zombies.
Just as he was about to turn around, his neck was gripped again. He looked down and saw it was her again, and was horrified.
Her stiff, cold hand tightened, and a "crunching" sound immediately came from his neck.
First, she was strangling him from behind; he couldn't shoot her in the heart.
Second, even if he could, could he bring himself to do it?
This escape was his suggestion; if they hadn't escaped, perhaps she wouldn't have died, or if she did, it wouldn't have been so tragic.
Therefore, he felt a deep sense of guilt towards her; living only brought painful separation.
Finally, his legs gave way, and he collapsed to the ground, but he still woke up.
When he woke up and found himself embracing her, he was initially shocked, but quickly calmed down. He felt this was a good
arrangement ; he should hold her and let her rest in peace.
Her face had turned from red to purple, her eyes bulging, but he resigned himself to his fate. A quick examination revealed that she had indeed been gang-raped; her
genitals were severely lacerated and stained with blood, her vagina overflowing with semen—all indicating that she had been repeatedly violated and
ravaged without her ability to resist.
He carried her body towards the border, encountering a few Communist soldiers along the way, all of whom he sniped.
Then, inside Khmer territory, he placed her body in a tree.
He went to Yoshii and then found someone to transport her body back for burial.
He is now in Taiwan, doing business in Yilan.
[The End]

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