At this moment, Qin Bing'er’s face was deathly pale, her breathing shallow, her eyes tightly shut, and dark, blood-like threads were seeping from the corners of her purplish mouth. Seeing this, I was suddenly struck by a chilling realization: my hand, pressed against her forehead, felt like it was touching a block of ice! This sensation sent my heart into a frenzy, and cold sweat immediately broke out across my skin! Could it be that Qin Bing’er had passed away? Because only the dead felt this kind of cold. After my grandmother passed, on the day they prepared her coffin before the burial on the mountain, when my father and I arranged her inside, I touched my grandmother’s feet and felt that same bone-chilling cold. Qin Bing’er’s body went slack, collapsing toward the floor. I struggled to hold her, preventing her from crumpling entirely onto the ground. I was already paralyzed with fear; if such an exotic beauty died in my house and the news got out, neither Man Niao Niao nor I could escape unscathed—we’d be flayed alive even if we weren’t dead!

Hearing my cry, Old Man Ji stopped paying attention to the strange clam that was buried under the pile of stones and rushed into the house in three quick strides. The others must have realized something was wrong too, as they tumbled and scrambled into the house in a panicked flurry. The moment they saw Qin Bing’er’s condition, they all gasped, their faces instantly turning ghostly white.

Old Man Ji darted to my side, felt Qin Bing’er’s forehead, then flipped up her eyelid for a look. He pulled out the pouch of dried tobacco he never parted with, randomly grabbed a handful from inside, extracted a piece of tobacco skin resembling a smoked pig intestine, and quickly rolled himself a massive, trumpet-shaped cigarette. Old Man Ji stuffed the cigarette into his mouth, then frantically patted his pockets for a lighter. However, his clothes pockets were stuffed with all sorts of miscellaneous items, bulging out like several worn leather pouches hanging from him, so in his urgency, he couldn't find the lighter at first. He anxiously slapped and patted every pocket, looking exactly like he was playing the Tujia ethnic group’s characteristic "meat clappers."

I was simultaneously angry, anxious, and resentful—the pressure was immense—yet he was still intent on satisfying his nicotine craving! But the situation was critical, and I dared not complain or offend him. Among the four adults present, he was the only one with some sort of specialized skill, the part-time "Second Brother of Agriculture," and the vital task of saving the girl still depended on him. I secretly vowed vengeance: if the old man failed to revive Qin Bing’er, I’d burn his whole beard off in one fiery blast!

Seeing Old Man Ji fumble for the lighter for so long, I freed one hand, reached into my own trousers pocket, retrieved the lighter, and handed it to him. Old Man Ji lit the lighter, brought it to the dark, coarse tobacco, sucked in deeply—his cheeks hollowing into twin pits—then puffed out his cheeks and pursed his lips, blowing out a cloud of thick, white smoke with a "Pfft!" that billowed straight toward Qin Bing’er’s face, enough to make onlookers weep. I inhaled a bit myself and instantly felt dizzy and lightheaded, my stomach spasming nervously, nearly bringing about the moment of "the great river flowing eastwards."

As that thick smoke rushed into Qin Bing’er’s nostrils, she actually frowned slightly, and her lips moved. My heart soared with ecstasy—ha! She was still alive! I glanced at Old Man Ji, thinking, I really underestimated the power of your family’s coarse tobacco; I never thought this was how you’d save Qin Bing’er! Old Man Ji paid no mind to my shifting expression. His cheeks puffed in and out, and he sprayed several more lungfuls of dense smoke onto Qin Bing’er. The smoke spread, carrying a fiercely acrid smell that forced the others to back away several steps. Holding Qin Bing’er, I couldn’t move, so I had to endure it, silently cursing why my nose and mouth couldn’t be longer so I could escape the smoke and breathe fresh air. The tobacco fumes brought tears to my eyes, and looking at Old Man Ji’s focused face through the haze, I felt like I was seeing "a flower in the mist, the moon reflected in the water."

That coarse tobacco’s power was indeed extraordinary! After several puffs of the smoke, Qin Bing’er’s body began to tremble slightly. A wave of relief washed over me, and I was about to take a deep breath, but the moment I opened my mouth, a residual wave of intensely pungent tobacco smoke rushed down my throat, nearly knocking me senseless. I quickly clamped my mouth shut, shaking my head wildly, seeking a single breath of fresh air. Man Niao Niao, seeing my distress, rushed over to help. I released my grip on Qin Bing’er, shot toward the window in one stride, placed a hand on my stomach, and gulped down great lungfuls of fresh air.

I had experienced the might of that coarse tobacco before. As a child, watching my grandfather constantly filling the air with smoke, I became intensely curious. One day, while my grandfather wasn't looking, I secretly rolled a piece as thick as a cigar, put it in my mouth, and took several deep drags. I’ve forgotten the other sensations, but I only remember the final result: I coughed up a puddle of thick phlegm and slept soundly on that wide pork-butchering bench for an entire day.

After taking a few breaths of fresh air, the suffocating feeling in my chest eased slightly, and I turned to look at Qin Bing’er.

Although her body was trembling lightly, Qin Bing’er hadn't woken up. Old Man Ji scanned her face, pinched the half-smoked cigarette between two fingers, brought it to his lips, and took a deep drag, only to find the tobacco had already gone out. He sighed, pulled out the lighter again, lit it, inhaled deeply, and the flame at the tip of the cigarette flared up, suddenly becoming bright and immense. Old Man Ji pinched the lit end, glanced at it, blew away some ash, and with a sharp upward movement, flung the burning tip directly toward Qin Bing’er’s forehead. With a crisp "Zhi," a wisp of white smoke rose from her forehead, and an ugly, black, soot-covered scar instantly appeared before our eyes, looking like a hideous, singular eye. I cried out in fright, stomping my feet repeatedly, lamenting inwardly that Qin Bing’er’s beautiful face had been ruined by Old Man Ji’s hands.

Ignoring the surprised glances from everyone, Old Man Ji turned to my mother and commanded, "Sister-in-law, hurry and find some tung oil and lampwick!"

"Tung oil? Lampwick?" My mother was caught off guard by the request. "Where are we going to find tung oil and lampwick now? If Granny and Grandfather were still alive, perhaps they could have found some, but who has such things nowadays!"

"I know where!" My father shoved my mother aside, darted into my grandparents' room, rummaged wildly, and less than thirty seconds later emerged holding an earthen bowl of tung oil and a bundle of lampwick, handing them to Old Man Ji. Seeing the oil and wick, Old Man Ji glanced at them briefly and ordered my father, "Brother, quickly heat the tung oil; we need it urgently!" My father took the hot pot from the table, held the earthen bowl over the flame to warm it, and in an instant, the room was saturated with the nauseating stench of heated tung oil, mixing with the still lingering smell of the coarse tobacco, nearly choking everyone until they nearly passed out.

When the tung oil was melted, Old Man Ji dropped the lampwick bundle to the floor, pulled out a milky white wick, dipped it into the oil, and lit it with the lighter. The wick erupted in a small, ghostly blue flame. Old Man Ji carefully held the lit wick close to Qin Bing’er’s face, paused briefly, and with another swift "Zhi," touched it right onto her face. The flame immediately went out. Accompanied by the smell of burning flesh, a scar resembling a bird dropping was left on Qin Bing’er’s face.

"Old Man Ji, what are you doing?" Seeing him about to light another wick, I ignored the suffocating smoke and tung oil fumes, darted to his side, grabbed his hand, and stopped him from proceeding. At the same time, I was frantically worried in my heart: women always value their faces more than their lives. Even if Qin Bing’er was saved, discovering her face covered in scars—like an upturned pomegranate peel—she would surely hunt down Old Man Ji for a fight!

Old Man Ji violently shook off my hand and pointed at Qin Bing’er’s face, shouting, "Stop fooling around! Look at what’s on her face!" I stared intently, and good heavens—beneath Qin Bing’er’s pale skin, wriggled things like earthworms, resembling bulging veins. What was most horrifying was that these worm-like things were winding and twisting, gradually converging toward her forehead. Old Man Ji was using the lit wick to burn the heads of these things, seemingly trying to stop them from climbing upward. Earlier, I had been so focused on Old Man Ji and so panicked that I hadn't noticed this detail. Seeing these horrifying creatures crawling on Qin Bing’er's face now, I screamed out, "Heavens! Isn't this 'Coiling Serpent Jaundice'?"

The only reason I knew the name was because I had suffered terribly from what they called "Coiling Serpent Jaundice" as a child. Back then, just like Qin Bing’er, my body was burned by a lit lampwick until I looked like a field of tiny stars, so my memory of this thing was very vivid. In truth, I never knew what "Coiling Serpent Jaundice" truly was. I only remember that Grandpa used a cold-water-soaked hemp string to scrape my skin several times, and these worm-like things would gradually surface, exactly matching what was on Qin Bing’er’s face. But I recalled that "Coiling Serpent Jaundice" usually appeared on the waist, and only after scraping the skin with cold, wet hemp string would it manifest. How could these things inexplicably appear on Qin Bing’er’s face?

The others also noticed the strange things on Qin Bing’er’s face and began shouting. Old Man Ji remained silent, busy working with the lampwick. I suddenly recalled Grandpa saying that once the "Coiling Serpent Jaundice" circled the patient’s waist, connecting head to tail, not even an immortal could save them! Realizing this, I urgently warned Old Man Ji, "Is there anything like this around her waist?" Old Man Ji flipped open Qin Bing’er’s collar, and the entire room screamed in unison—a dark purple thing, as thick as a chopstick, was slowly winding beneath her skin around her neck!! The grotesque thing was nearly connecting head to tail, looking like an ugly, bizarre, dark purple necklace about to strangle Qin Bing’er. Everyone’s hearts clenched tight; no one dared breathe, standing helplessly, staring fixedly at Old Man Ji.

"No wonder the lampwick wasn't stopping this ghostly thing! This is the source!" Old Man Ji roared. I noticed that after the worm-like things’ heads were touched by the lampwick, they simply curled back and continued crawling toward Qin Bing’er’s forehead. "Sister-in-law! Get the scrubbing brush!" Old Man Ji urgently commanded my mother.

As my mother went to fetch the pot-scrubbing brush, I noticed that no worm-like things were crawling onto other parts of Qin Bing’er’s body; the skin below the thing on her neck was smooth and delicate, only exhibiting an unnervingly pale complexion.

Old Man Ji took the brush, raised it high, and then stabbed it down with lightning speed toward Qin Bing’er’s pale face. With a dull "Pū" sound, the sharp, bamboo-fiber bristles pierced through Qin Bing’er’s flesh, and streams of dark, black blood spurted out along the bristles, accompanied by continuous "Chīchī" sounds. Qin Bing’er’s face instantly turned into a sesame seed cake, utterly hideous. The gushing black blood flowed down her cheeks, crossing over the ghostly things beneath the skin, creating a sight indescribably terrifying! Everyone in the room sighed; even Man Niao Niao, who prided himself on his courage, turned his face away in disgust, unable to watch.

I sighed deeply inwardly. Girl, even if your life is spared, I fear... I couldn’t bear to imagine further, feeling an inexplicable sense of loss and despair. Although I had only known Qin Bing’er for two short days, for some inexplicable reason, I felt she was a cherished treasure hidden deep within my heart for ages. That peerlessly beautiful face was like warm sunshine illuminating my soul! But now, that beautiful face, under Old Man Ji’s hands, had become a pockmarked canvas, like a breathtaking masterpiece casually speckled with countless ink blots by an ignorant child—it caused such piercing heartache and loss!

As I was sighing and feeling utterly lost, Old Man Ji suddenly grabbed my left hand and barked, "Open your hand!" I looked at Old Man Ji suspiciously, wondering what trick he was planning. But considering that Old Man Ji was the key to saving Qin Bing’er at this critical juncture, I dared not argue and obediently opened my hand, thinking, Is Old Man Ji going to make me press my hand against Qin Bing’er’s forehead again?

Seeing my hand open, Old Man Ji stretched his mouth wide and bit down hard on my thumb. With a forceful clench of his teeth, there was a "Pū" sound, and he broke my skin. I screamed in pain, tears welling up in my eyes. Fresh blood spurted from my thumb like a fountain, quickly coating my entire palm; my hand truly became a "bloody hand."

Old Man Ji paid no mind to my tearful agony. He dragged my hand and smeared it wildly all over Qin Bing’er’s face. When my palm touched her face, I could feel those hard, worm-like things under her skin. Wiping my thumb wound against her face only intensified the pain in my heart and lungs. My mother, seeing my grimace, showed compassion on her face, but Old Man Ji didn't even look at me, concentrating on using my hand to "wash" Qin Bing’er’s face. In moments, the dark blood from Qin Bing’er’s face mixed with the bright red blood from my hand, completely covering her deathly pale face. That sight can only be described in two words: terrifying!

I continued to have my hand pulled by Old Man Ji to "wash" Qin Bing’er’s face. After a while, I was overjoyed to notice that Qin Bing’er’s breathing was becoming deeper and her tremors more violent. I also realized that the worm-like things under her skin were slowly thinning, and the black necklace-like thing on her neck was showing signs of wilting, no longer as taut and vigorous as before.

Seeing this, I was overjoyed. Forgetting the pain, I shook off Old Man Ji’s hand and vigorously smeared her face and neck with concentration. Seeing that my thumb had stopped bleeding, I squeezed it hard with the index and middle fingers of my right hand, making fresh blood surge out again. I rubbed my hands together, saw both palms coated in gore, and began stroking Qin Bing’er’s face with all my might until I felt her skin become smooth, no longer rough to the touch, and I felt warmth returning to her face. Only then did I pull my hands away, seeing my palms covered in dark red.

Qin Bing’er’s lips twitched, and she began to moan faintly. Everyone in the room let out a long breath. Old Man Ji instructed my mother to fetch hot water and use a towel to wash the filth from Qin Bing’er’s face and neck. The basin of wash water quickly turned into a murky, reddish-black mess.

We looked at Qin Bing’er’s face again and saw a faint hint of color returning, no longer uniformly deathly pale. The worm-like things had vanished without a trace, leaving only the large scar on her forehead and the scattered blemishes on her face, truly making it a sesame seed cake!

Not long after, Qin Bing’er let out a soft whimper and opened her eyes, looking weakly at the people gathered around her, her expression very confused. It seemed she hadn’t realized she had just journeyed to the gates of the underworld and back.

"Don't speak, little girl! Rest first! —Sister-in-law, take her to sleep!" Old Man Ji first spoke gently to Qin Bing’er, then instructed my mother.

My mother agreed, helped Qin Bing’er into the inner room.

When my mother emerged from the inner room, Old Man Ji said again, "Sister-in-law, place Brother’s Maozi (axe) and ink line beside that girl’s pillow!" Though my mother didn't understand Old Man Ji's intention, she always obeyed his words. She quickly found my father’s axe and ink line and took them into the inner room. My father was a carpenter, so these items were not hard to locate.

Seeing Qin Bing’er settled, I asked Man Niao Niao to fetch me a basin of hot water to wash my hands. Just as I was about to sit down for a smoke, I vaguely heard Qin Bing’er moaning again from the inner room. My mother rushed out in a panic and shouted to Old Man Ji, "Old Man Ji, does that girl have 'Coiling Serpent Jaundice' on her back too? Why is she crying out while clutching her back?" Old Man Ji’s expression flickered a few times upon hearing this, and he strode toward the inner room. Halting at the doorway, he hesitated, then told my mother, "Sister-in-law, go see if there are any of those ghostly things on her back?" Hearing this, my mother turned to go inside.

I suddenly snapped back to reality and quickly stopped my mother: "Ma, there are no such things on her back!" I understood the reason for Qin Bing’er moaning while pressing her back; I worried that my mother would be terrified upon seeing the tapestry of green fur on Qin Bing’er's back without any warning. I quickly poured a full cup of wine, handed it to my mother, "Ma, don't look at her back; there shouldn't be 'Coiling Serpent Jaundice' there. Just give her this cup of wine, and she’ll be fine!"

My mother looked at me with suspicion, then glanced at Old Man Ji, who looked equally perplexed. Old Man Ji nodded. "Then go and try it!" My mother, holding the wine cup, entered the inner room again.

After drinking the wine, Qin Bing’er's moaning subsided slightly. I stood at the inner room doorway. Seeing my mother emerge with the empty cup, I poured another full cup of wine, "Ma, let her drink a few more cups!" After several trips back and forth, Qin Bing’er quieted down. Seeing Qin Bing’er asleep, my mother came outside and said strangely, "This girl is really odd; she drinks wine like it’s plain water. What in the world is going on?"

I quickly changed the subject: "Ma, find me a band-aid!" My mother rummaged through the drawer for a while but couldn't find a band-aid. She had to take the flashlight outside to find a small spider web and stuck it over the wound on my thumb. Only then did the bleeding gradually stop.