Shanghai's plum rain season clung to the skin like a damp rag, soaked through with the stench of mildew.Raindrops slapped against the window, then crawled down the glass in slow, winding trails—like a swarm of transparent maggots writhing across the surface.
On June 15th, 1990, Bai Ye's skin began to fall away in sheets.
At 3:17 a.m., she woke with a jolt, dragged from sleep by the searing pain.Scattered across her pillow were dozens of translucent flakes—shredded pieces of skin, fragile as the wings of dead butterflies.
The infection on her right cheek had spread behind her ear. Pus had crusted inside the folds, muffling sound like she was hearing through frosted glass.
She tried to get up, but her legs refused to obey.She collapsed to the floor, her forehead slamming into the bed frame.But she felt nothing.It was as if her nerves had all been swallowed by the rot.
She tried to scream, but only a rasp escaped her throat—a dry, sandpaper scrape, as though her voice had been filed raw
The bedroom door burst open.
Blinding light flooded in like a tidal wave.Bai Ye squinted, eyes watering, and saw her parents' horrified faces twist and blur in the glare.
"Yezi!" Li Zhen's scream was raw, almost inhuman."Lao Bai! Call an ambulance—now!"
Bai Hua's figure disappeared down the hallway, stumbling.Li Zhen rushed to Bai Ye's side, reaching out—only to recoil as if electrocuted the moment her hand touched Bai Ye's shoulder.
Her pupils contracted violently. Her lips trembled."Oh God… oh God…"
Bai Ye wanted to laugh.
She dragged herself toward the vanity, eager to see what she looked like now—What kind of face could inspire that kind of reaction in her mother?
But Li Zhen grabbed the hem of her nightgown, holding her back with a strength fueled by terror.
"Don't look... Yezi, please, don't look…"Her voice cracked, tears cutting channels through the thick foundation on her face.
Bai Ye stopped resisting.
She lay there on the floor, feeling the way her rotten skin scraped against the fibers of her nightgown—a sensation so strange it was almost pleasurable.
Every wound sang.Every drop of pus danced.
She remembered a movie she'd seen as a child—the woman with leprosy, locked away in a convent, left to die alone.
She had been so afraid back then, hiding in her mother's arms.
But now?Now, she almost felt proud of her decay.
The wail of an ambulance approached, low and rising.
When they lifted Bai Ye onto the stretcher, she caught a glimpse of herself in the hallway's full-length mirror—
That wasn't a face.It was a grotesque painting in the style of madness.
Swollen, festering skin in angry reds and browns.Pustules crusting over exposed flesh.Patches of raw, weeping muscle peeking through torn layers of skin.
Only her eyes remained untouched.And they burned—like two live coals embedded in the canvas.
"Sepsis… severe skin infection… immediate isolation…"
Voices in white coats swirled above her, their words fractured and drifting in and out of meaning.
The fluorescent lights of the hospital hallway passed overhead one by one—like a stream of falling stars that never ended.
Seventeen lights in, a sharp pain stabbed her arm—an IV line.
Cold liquid surged through her veins.The world tilted.Melted.
Just before her mind slipped away, she heard someone say:
"…self-harm… psychiatric evaluation… may require transfer…"
When Bai Ye opened her eyes again, the first thing she saw was a ceiling light caged in wire mesh.
She blinked.Tried to raise her hand to shield her eyes—Only to realize her arms were bound tightly against her sides by coarse fabric.
A restraint jacket.
The word surfaced in her mind like a cold bubble.
She twisted, instinctively, and pain shot through her body—the rough canvas rubbed mercilessly against her decaying flesh.
She gasped.Only then did she notice: her face had been treated.A thick, acrid-smelling ointment had been slathered over her wounds.
"You're awake."
A calm voice spoke from her right.
Bai Ye turned her head with effort.
A middle-aged woman in a white coat sat beside the bed, clipboard in hand. Her hair was tied back in a precise bun, and her eyes behind the glasses gleamed like polished marbles—cold, unreadable.
"W-where am I?" Bai Ye rasped. Her voice sounded like it had been sanded down from the inside.
"Shanghai Psychiatric Health Center," the woman replied, scribbling something."I'm Dr. Zhang. Your parents signed the consent forms. You're here for treatment."
Bai Ye's breathing quickened.
She writhed in the jacket, the fabric groaning under the strain."I'm not crazy! Let me go!"
Dr. Zhang didn't flinch. Her pen continued to glide across the paper."Your infection is under control. But we found high levels of antibiotics and... other substances in your system. Have you been self-medicating?"
Bai Ye suddenly fell still.
She stared up at the ceiling.A smile crept slowly onto her lips.
"Candy," she whispered.
"Bai Ye," Dr. Zhang said, her pen pausing mid-stroke."Do you understand that self-harm is a symptom of a mental disorder?"
"A disorder?"Bai Ye chuckled, her voice dry and sharp.
"No, doctor. It's art."
She slowly turned her head to meet Dr. Zhang's eyes.
"Have you ever tried drawing on your skin with a knife?"Her voice dropped to a murmur, almost tender."Blood is the best kind of ink."
Dr. Zhang lowered the clipboard.From her coat pocket, she took out a small flashlight.
"I'm going to check your pupils," she said evenly.
Cold fingers pried open Bai Ye's eyelid.
And she struck.
Bai Ye lunged forward, jaw snapping open, teeth bared—Her mouth was just a breath away from sinking into Dr. Zhang's wrist—
When the pain hit.
A bolt of electricity surged through her body like liquid fire.She didn't even see the male nurse standing at her bedside, holding the stun baton.
Her limbs convulsed. Her muscles locked.The world collapsed into darkness.
When Bai Ye regained consciousness again, there were two new figures in the room.
Her parents sat in stiff plastic chairs beside her bed.
Li Zhen's eyes were swollen like bruised peaches.Bai Hua's back was hunched, as if he'd aged ten years overnight.
In his hand, he clutched an old photograph—Bai Ye as a child, dressed in a white lace dress, porcelain and smiling.
"Yezi…" Li Zhen's voice trembled,"The doctor said… you'll need to stay here for a little while…"
Bai Ye didn't respond.
She stared at the crack in the ceiling, imagining it as a snake slithering its way toward the light.
"We… we brought you some clean clothes," Bai Hua said awkwardly, nudging a plastic bag toward the head of the bed."And your favorite…"
"Get out," Bai Ye whispered.
Li Zhen froze."…What?"
"I said, get out."Bai Ye turned her head toward them.A twisted smile spread across her rotting face.
"Didn't you always want a perfect daughter?" she said softly."Go find one.I'm done pretending."
Bai Hua turned pale.He opened his mouth, but Li Zhen grabbed his sleeve, shaking her head as fresh tears spilled over.
"She's sick… she doesn't know what she's saying…"
"I'm perfectly sane."Bai Ye's voice was slow, deliberate."Clearer than I've ever been."
There was a long, strained silence.
At last, Bai Hua stood, gently placing the photo on the bedside table."…We'll come back tomorrow."
After her parents left, Bai Ye began to struggle again.
The restraint jacket scraped against her wounds, each movement sending jolts of pain through her body—sharp, searing, electric.
She didn't care.
Pain made her feel alive.Decay made her feel real.
She twisted harder, until the metal frame of the bed creaked under the strain.
She lay there, wrapped tight in white canvas like a gown tailored too close to the bone.
Staring at the ceiling,she imagined herself in that white dress from long ago—bathed in sunlight, praised by everyone around her.
But no one would praise her now.
Her face was rotten.Her body stank of death.Her soul—was crawling with worms.
And she didn't care.
She wriggled her wrists inside the jacket,relishing the sting as the fabric dragged across broken skin.
Pain climbed her spine like a shiver.And she liked it.
Then she felt an itch.
Her fingernails.
She looked down.Somehow, they had grown—long and sharp, their edges tinged with a dark, dried crimson,as if soaked in old blood.
She dragged them across the fabric.They made a faint, satisfying shhhk sound.
"How interesting," she murmured.
A sudden sting bloomed at the corner of her mouth.
She ran her tongue across it.Tasted blood.
Straining to lift her head, she caught her reflection in the small mirror on the far wall.
Her mouth was tearing.Not from rot—but as if it were being carved open- slowly, methodically,the gash stretching toward her ear.
She smiled.
And the wound widened—revealing rows of unnaturally white teeth.Longer now.Sharper.
Like the fangs of something not entirely human.
"That's better," she whispered, voice ragged and full of delight.
The doorknob turned.
Bai Ye immediately shut her eyes.Steadying her breath.Pretending to sleep.
A nurse walked in, clipboard in hand, the scent of antiseptic clinging to her clothes.
But beneath that, Bai Ye caught something else—a warm, coppery sweetness.
The smell of blood.
Her throat convulsed.
"Temperature normal, heart rate elevated…" the nurse mumbled, gently lifting Bai Ye's collar to inspect the wounds on her neck.
And then—
Bai Ye's eyes snapped open.
The nurse gasped, stumbling back—but too late.
Bai Ye lunged forward,sinking her teeth into the nurse's wrist.
Her fangs pierced skin—hot blood burst into her mouth.
The taste was overwhelming—sweeter than her mother's affection,richer than her father's concern,more intoxicating than anyone else's pain.
It was divine.
The nurse screamed.Bai Ye didn't let go.She drank greedily, like she was being reborn.
Suddenly—a jolt.
A pair of orderlies rushed in.
A stun baton pressed against her neck—
CRACK.
Electricity surged through her body.Her muscles seized.Her jaw unlocked.The nurse fell back, two deep puncture wounds gushing blood.
They slammed Bai Ye back onto the bed, tightening the restraints even more.
But she didn't care.
She licked the blood from the corner of her mouth and smiled, eyes gleaming.
"You can't keep me in here," she whispered.
Outside the window, the night was deep and heavy.