The procedure for catching rats is twofold: first, setting the bait, and second, closing the trap. Place the trap and the lure where rats frequent; when the creature enters the device to eat the bait, the mechanism is automatically triggered, securing it inside. This procedure is universally applicable.

Rats are fond of sweets; cake and apples make excellent lures. However, if you are trapping something other than a rat, you must first determine what constitutes an effective bait. For instance, chimpanzees favor bananas, so bananas can serve as bait; small fish are attracted to earthworms, making them an ideal lure in that case. What do zombies prefer? I don't know the answer to that question, only that there will certainly be bait tonight.

A little after ten o'clock at night, the Village Chief summoned us from our guest rooms. Outside, the area was already blazing with light, twenty or so young men gathered in the Village Chief's courtyard, each holding a torch. Every hand clutched a sickle, and tied near the handle of each sickle was a strip of red cloth.

The Village Chief emerged from the main hall carrying two sickles, also adorned with red cloth strips, and handed one to each of us. Wang Jue produced a bottle of medicine, popped one Ritalin, and casually handed me another. I took it and swallowed it whole.

When the clock struck eleven, everyone set off, holding their torches high. The Village Chief led a few young men at the very front, while Wang Jue and I walked toward the middle of the procession. A magnificent torchlight parade illuminated half the sky. Along the road, we heard dogs barking, cats meowing, and crickets chirping, yet not a single person in the line made a sound. The quietude was so profound it involuntarily sent shivers down the spine. Upon reaching the foot of the mountain, the Village Chief commanded us to extinguish the torches, leaving only two to serve as signals. Everyone followed the markers, moving in darkness.

Navigating the mountain path blind was like being utterly sightless. I couldn't see my hand in front of my face, and apart from clumps of trees, there were no substantial barriers around us. The gravel path underfoot was uneven, forcing me to advance cautiously, one step at a time, steadying myself by gripping branches. Occasionally, a tree root would trip me up. Yet, even if someone stumbled, no sound was uttered; this group was more disciplined than any military unit.

Reaching the middle slope, the procession halted. The Village Chief ordered the remaining two torches to be extinguished as well. Thus, we all stood there in the pitch black, silently waiting for something to happen.

I desperately wanted to know what everyone was waiting for. Due to the Village Chief’s prior strict orders prohibiting speech, no one had so much as drawn a heavy breath on the entire trek. Therefore, any questions I had remained locked within my mind.

Everyone simply stood there woodenly, clutching their sickles. After perhaps half an hour, my legs began to ache. I leaned slightly against Wang Jue’s shoulder for support, but the soreness persisted. I finally gave in and imitated a child, dangling from his arm as I squatted down. The sickle in his hand was right before my eyes, glinting beautifully in the moonlight—brighter than all the others. I followed the tip of the blade upward, admiring it, admiring it.

A sense of unease began to creep in; his sickle seemed different from mine. I glanced at my own, yet couldn't quite articulate the difference. Looking back at his, I suddenly recalled that when the Village Chief handed them to us, both sickles clearly had red cloth strips attached. Now, however, the cloth strip on his was gone!

I wanted to ask Wang Jue how he lost the ribbon, but remembering the Chief’s command for silence, I clamped my mouth shut. I looked up at him, intending to send him a meaningful glance. That glance was a grave mistake; every hair on my body stood on end, and my blood felt as though it had nearly solidified.