Nobita’s expression barely shifted. He scrutinized the person from head to toe, then frowned, raising his voice to speak to me, “Come here. It’s a dead man.”

Hearing this, I felt a wave of relief, but upon seeing the deceased’s appearance, I couldn’t help but feel utterly perplexed myself.

The most unusual aspect of this dead man was the manner of his death. He had been pierced straight through from the top of his head, and whatever impaled him was still lodged in his body, keeping his head from drooping forward by propping up his skull and ribcage.

Judging by his posture, the death must have been sudden. In front of him was a large white screen, the kind used for slide projections, suggesting he had been in a meeting when it happened.

The corpse wore a Soviet military padded overcoat, no hat, and his face had decomposed to little more than a skeleton, his mouth stretched wide in an expression of profound agony. On his lap rested an old-fashioned tape recorder, its cord plugged into an outlet on the adjacent wall; the low, male voice was emanating from that machine.

Nobita glanced at the recorder and grunted, “Damn it, this thing nearly scared the two of us to death.”

I sighed, thinking to myself that there truly was no room for ghosts or gods in this world.

Examining the recorder closely, I noticed one of the dead man’s hands was obscuring the speaker. Since he was wearing thick leather gloves, the voice coming out was muffled and indistinct.

Moving the hand away, the recorder’s volume immediately increased, and the language became much clearer. Nobita seemed to understand it and signaled me to be quiet.

The recording was quite long, sounding like a monologue. The speaker’s voice was flat, yet I could sense an undercurrent of despair and sorrow in his words.

Nobita listened intently. At first, his expression was placid, but as it continued, his brow furrowed deeper and deeper until he became utterly rigid, his face frighteningly pale.

I had never seen Nobita so unsettled, so I asked him what was wrong.

But Nobita merely waved his hand, telling me not to speak, then turned his head back to continue listening. By the end, he was sweating profusely, pacing back and forth in front of me, clearly agitated.

When the recording finally fell silent, Nobita decisively walked over and pulled the plug. Without looking at me, he found a relatively sturdy chair, blew the dust off it, and sat down.

I knew he must have heard something earth-shattering in that recording and needed a moment to gather his thoughts.

Sure enough, after sitting for a moment, he turned and called out, “Xiao Chuan, you… come here.”

So, I mimicked Nobita, dusting off a stool next to him before taking a seat.

Nobita turned to face me, his expression deeply conflicted. After a long pause, he said, “Xiao Chuan, if I told you that the two of us are no longer human, would you believe me?”

Normally, I would have immediately retorted that he wasn’t human, but seeing his demeanor, a heaviness settled in my heart. I asked him, “What do you mean? If we aren’t human, then what are we?”

He thought for a moment, wringing his hands together, then confessed with visible distress, “Actually, it’s not quite that. I don’t mean we aren’t human; I mean we are becoming things that are not human.”

Noting his disjointed speech, I patted his shoulder and said, “Slow down. Don’t rush.”

Nobita pointed a trembling finger at the skeleton and choked out, “This fellow actually isn’t dead.”

Hearing this, I looked toward the skeleton, my brow furrowing deeply, and asked him, “How can that be?”

Nobita wiped the sweat from his brow and addressed me, “First, I have to say, the content of this tape was entirely addressed to the two of us. Think about it—how long has this corpse been here? It’s impossible for it to know we were coming. Why would the recording be specifically tailored for us?”

I considered this and replied, “Maybe you’re mistaken, kid. Perhaps the recording is meant for everyone who enters this place?”

Nobita shook his head, grits his teeth, and stated fiercely, “Damn it, the crucial thing is, the recording explicitly mentioned both of our names.”

At that revelation, I gasped in shock and demanded, “How is that possible?”

I pondered for a moment, then suggested, “Could it be that this person, in his lifetime, happened to know two people with our exact names?”

Nobita knew I was trying to deceive myself, so he simply shook his head.

My mind was in utter chaos. After a long while, I finally managed to ask, my brow furrowed, “Alright, tell me what it said?”

Nobita collected his thoughts and said, “It wasn’t too complicated. This guy said that anyone who enters beyond the iron gate can never leave. There is a poison gas emanating from the earth here, which was sealed long ago, but a leak occurred many years back. This pervasive gas doesn’t kill immediately, but if a person is immersed in it, they gradually lose consciousness, their flesh changes, and their minds corrupt into monsters.”

“Flesh corrodes?” I sucked in a sharp breath, extending my hand and holding it under the beam of the flashlight. To my horror, I saw that my hand was covered in patches of green hair.

Faced with such a gruesome sight, I instantly felt my breathing become labored as I gasped for air.

“Impossible…” I violently shook my head, sensing something deeply illogical about the situation, yet unable to pinpoint what it was.

I looked from the skeleton sitting with its back to us nearby to Nobita’s deathly pale face, and a sudden sense of disharmony struck me.

At that moment, I suddenly realized the source of that dissonance.

The Nobita before me now, both in complexion and temperament, was vastly different from the Nobita I knew. That look in his eyes—filled with melancholy, despair, and the very air of death—would never grace Nobita’s face.

The Nobita I knew, no matter the dire straits, always possessed a cheerful, ‘let’s just die then’ attitude.

And most unbelievably, this Nobita beside me was wearing the exact same military overcoat as the skeleton!

Realizing this, I shot to my feet, pointed at him, and demanded, “Who the hell are you!”

At this, Nobita merely looked up at me, his eyes vacant, the corner of his mouth slowly curling into an impossible arc.

Terrified, I stumbled back several steps, grabbed a nearby chair, and hurled it directly at the figure of Nobita...

Nobita deflected the chair with his arm and lunged at me, and we began to wrestle violently.

“Hey! Comrade Nie Chuan! What are you doing? Murdering a revolutionary comrade?” a furious roar sounded right in front of my face, followed by several sharp slaps to my cheek.

I snapped my eyes open, staring into a large face looking back at me, its eyes filled with incomprehension. My own hands were locked tightly around his throat.

Instantly realizing the situation, I released Nobita, rubbed my temples, and muttered, “It was just a dream. I must be too tired.”

Nobita was still frowning. He said, “I don’t think it was a dream. I think you were sleepwalking. Look at what’s on your shoulder.”

I looked down as he directed, and immediately sprang off the chair.

Unbeknownst to me, I had somehow ended up sitting on the skeleton, and its two skeletal arms, now reduced to brittle bone, were draped across my shoulders.

As I struggled free, the already fragile bones instantly snapped, falling to the floor with several sharp cracks.

The skeleton’s body pitched forward slightly, and a pair of empty eye sockets seemed to stare at me in fury.

Seeing my alarm, Nobita quickly patted my shoulder and said, “I think we should find somewhere to rest for a while.”

My courage had definitely increased since before. After taking a moment to recover, I waved him off, saying, “No need. When did I fall asleep?”

Nobita stroked his chin. “I don’t know. Maybe when I was listening to the tape? But I’m quite puzzled. I remember seeing you walk out just now out of the corner of my eye, and I asked you where you were going, but you didn't answer. I didn’t notice when you came back and lay down.”

“Walked out?” I shone my flashlight toward the doorway and asked in surprise.

Although I had lost some memories, I knew with absolute certainty that I had never walked toward the door. This was bizarre.