Metaphysics’ Public Enemy 42

Chapter 42:

A Strange Case of Male Pregnancy (Part 7):

A Man Giving Birth, What a Strange Thing…

There really was something inside Yang Zhen’s belly. He saw it moving, a living thing, a bulge rising beneath his skin, and upon closer inspection, a snake’s head!

A snake was inside him!

He scrambled off the bed, landing on the floor with a thud, the pain a stark reminder of his predicament. The thought of carrying a snake inside him made him nauseous. He retched, but his stomach was empty, his ribs almost visible beneath his skin.

But his belly was larger than a pregnant pig’s, his dark skin making him resemble a black pig. Ashamed, he hid in his room, his belly swelling with each passing day, his misery growing.

He was not only grotesque, but also a source of fear for his parents. The pain in his belly kept him awake at night, his groans echoing through the house. The white snake was taking its revenge. He raged, throwing things around his room, his mother desperately trying to restrain him, their meager possessions not enough to withstand his fury.

This wasn’t an illness. Doctors in town were useless. He needed Yang Popo, the village shaman, to deal with this curse.

Yang Popo was the oldest person in the village, the only one who hadn’t accepted their wedding candies. She had warned Yang Juan to treat her daughter-in-law with kindness, but Yang Juan, blinded by her good fortune, hadn’t listened. Now, she regretted it, wishing she could slap herself. If she had known the woman was a snake spirit, she wouldn’t have allowed her son to marry her.

It was too late for regrets. Yang Juan pleaded with Yang Popo, their shared history, the bonds of their village compelling the old woman to help.

Yang Popo, seeing Yang Zhen’s condition, raised her walking stick and struck him repeatedly. Despite her age, her blows were strong.

Yang Zhen, his large belly making him a slow and easy target, couldn’t dodge, the stick landing on his back, his waist aching, his swollen feet unable to carry him. He crawled towards a corner, seeking refuge.

Yang Juan paced anxiously, afraid to intervene, lest she anger Yang Popo and lose their only hope.

As Yang Popo raised her stick to strike his belly, Yang Zhen gasped, his face contorted in pain.

The pain, it was starting again.

“Stop hitting me! Please, spare me! Ah… spare me!” he begged.

Yang Popo, leaning on her stick, pointed at him, her voice filled with rage. “You’ve brought this upon yourself, you fool!”

She explained that Yang Zhen had disrupted the snake’s plans. The land’s fertile energy, which nurtured the snakes, could also nurture spirits. When she was young, she had released two white snakes, a pair of siblings, one large, one small. Years later, she had seen them again in the fields.

The smaller snake had achieved human form, its cultivation advanced. Having seen a portrait in Yang Popo’s house, it had transformed into a beautiful woman, resembling Bai Suzhen, offering her a piece of gold as a token of gratitude.

It was about to undergo tribulation lightning. If it failed, it would never see her again. Snakes remembered both kindness and cruelty. Both snakes were intelligent, the smaller one already capable of transformation.

Two months later, Yang Popo had been awakened by thunder, knowing the tribulation had begun.

She hadn’t seen the snakes since, until Yang Juan had distributed wedding candies, and she had recognized the bride, the white snake, now Yang Zhen’s wife.

The snake had told her that it had failed its tribulation, near death, when Yang Zhen had dug it out of the crater, their fates intertwined. By repaying his kindness, it could recover its cultivation and attempt the transformation again.

Yang Zhen’s wish had been for a child, and the snake had obliged. Once it gave birth to a son, it could return to the mountains to recover.

But it had died during childbirth, its energy depleted, its soul scattered, its chance of transformation lost forever.

“That white snake endured humiliation in your house, only to meet a tragic end,” Yang Popo said, her voice filled with disappointment. “If you had treated it with kindness, helped it achieve its transformation, you would have been rewarded. You’ve brought this curse upon yourselves!”

“If we had known, we wouldn’t have done this! We would have… we would have worshipped it!” Yang Juan cried, kneeling before Yang Popo. “Please, tell us, how can we save my son?”

A snake’s head emerged from Yang Zhen’s belly.

Yang Popo almost dropped her walking stick, turning to leave.

“You can’t abandon us! He’s my only son!” Yang Juan pleaded.

Yang Popo stopped at the door. “That’s the white snake’s brother. You killed its sister, how can it not seek revenge? It just warned me not to interfere. It can see and hear everything. I want to live a little longer!”

She left, her age giving her the authority to refuse their pleas.

Yang Juan followed, begging and crying, until Yang Popo finally sighed. “Come to my house. Don’t let it hear us.”

The white snake had entered Yang Zhen’s belly, disguised as a fetus, intending to kill him, just like its sister. The only solution was a fetus transfer, to another man, appeasing the snake’s resentment.

It had to be a man. Yang Popo also instructed them to dig up the dead white snake’s body and place it under the bed, to attract the snake spirit inside Yang Zhen. She gave them the instructions and left, refusing to participate further.

Knowing the solution didn’t make it easier. Where would they find a man willing to be impregnated? Finding a woman would be much simpler.

But Yang Popo had told the entire village. No man would willingly enter their house. Desperate, Yang Juan saw only one solution: her husband. He was family, after all.

Then, a pair of siblings had arrived, their appearance a stroke of luck.

…

Zuo He, lying under the bed, poked around with his wooden sword, unearthing a pile of small bones, clearly belonging to a snake.

“I understand now,” he said.

“There’s something missing,” Chen Henian said.

“What’s missing?”

“The gallbladder,” Chen Henian replied, picking up the mirror and addressing the snake inside. “Where is your sister’s gallbladder?”

“Is that important?” Zuo He asked.

“Of course,” Chen Henian said, raising an eyebrow. “I want it. It’s mine now, and I don’t let others take my things.”

He tapped the mirror. “I’m guessing it’s inside Yang Zhen’s belly, right? Generations of snake hunters, they know what’s valuable. Such a precious thing, they must have fed it to their precious son. Am I right?”

The snake in the mirror, its form weak and fading, glared at him, its eyes filled with resentment. It was severely injured, its cultivation far weaker than its sister’s, just a four-legged snake, barely able to hold its form.

Chen Henian hadn’t even touched it, yet its form began to dissipate.

It vanished from the mirror. Chen Henian stared at the empty glass.

It wasn’t dead.

“It’s gone from the mirror. This has nothing to do with me,” the mirror ghost said.

Zuo He’s grip tightened around his sword, his eyes scanning the room. “Where did it go?”

“It’s not here,” Chen Henian said, realizing the truth. “That wasn’t its true form. Its main body is still inside Yang Zhen.”

He picked up his suitcase, tossing his robe to Zuo He.

“Where are we going?” Zuo He asked.

“The delivery room,” Chen Henian replied. “It’s injured, it’ll return to its main body. Yang Zhen is about to give birth.”

A man giving birth, what a strange thing.

They walked towards the main house, the sound of screams growing louder, a chilling sound, coming from Yang Zhen’s room. Jiang Wan stood outside the door.

“Is it over?” she asked, turning to them.

“Not yet,” Chen Henian replied.

“I have to settle a score with that snake when it comes out.”

“How is it going to come out?” Jiang Wan chuckled. “Men don’t have the right equipment. Is it really going to give birth?”

Yang Zhen, of course, couldn’t give birth. He couldn’t sit, lie down, or stand. Yang Juan tried to support him, but he collapsed on top of her.

Seeing Chen Henian unharmed, his stomach flat, Yang Juan knew the transfer hadn’t worked. She had no time for them now. Yang Zhen’s screams filled the room, Yang Dali had gone to call for help, and she was alone with her son.

The pain was unbearable, his veins bulging, his insides churning, the snake thrashing within him, his body drenched in sweat, but he couldn’t give birth!

His belly, a swollen, distended oval, twisted and contorted by the snake’s movements, his skin stretched taut, hard as a rock. He couldn’t roll over, his limbs unable to support his weight, his cries for his mother unanswered.

“Mother, it hurts…”

“It hurts so much…”

His voice was a broken wail, his face pale, his lips bloodless.

He had never experienced such pain. Desperate, he banged his head against the wall.

“My son, my son…” Yang Juan held him, her voice filled with anguish. “Just a little longer, just a little longer.”

“I can’t… I can’t take it anymore—” He sobbed, beating his fists against his stomach, coughing up blood, his fingernails scraping against the floor as he crawled towards the wall, wanting to end it all, to escape the unbearable pain.

The pain in his head was nothing compared to the agony in his belly. Yang Juan tied him up, his struggles weak and ineffective.

“I’m dying, I’m dying, Mother—”

His hands tied behind his back, he sobbed uncontrollably, the snake inside him writhing and twisting, its movements making him nauseous, its coils constricting his intestines, but he couldn’t pass out, his head banging against the floor, his eyes bloodshot, his face pale, his form more like a writhing worm than a human.

Jiang Wan smiled. “Childbirth takes time. Women can do it, surely a strong man like him can handle a few more?”

She watched the spectacle, his bloody face a source of amusement.

Zuo He, his sword in hand, his brow furrowed, started towards the room, but Jiang Wan and Chen Henian stopped him.

“I just want to end his suffering,” Zuo He said.

“End his suffering?” Jiang Wan said. “What right do you have to interfere? He brought this upon himself. Whether you kill the snake or not is your decision, but wait until it comes out.”

“Besides, his mother hasn’t given up yet. If you interfere, she’ll blame you for his death.”

Her words made sense. Chen Henian remained silent, and Zuo He, convinced, put away his sword.

“Some people are more cruel than ghosts, harming others without consequence, living their lives without remorse.” Jiang Wan’s voice was cold as she looked at Yang Juan and Yang Zhen. “Men are despicable, and the women who support them are just as bad.”

Yang Zhen’s head was bleeding, his consciousness fading, the pain amplified, his screams silent, his teeth grinding together, the veins on his distended belly bulging like leeches, his body stretched to its limit, as if about to split open, each contraction a knife twisting in his gut.

“Son! Son! Just a little longer! There’s a way! There has to be a way!” Yang Juan cried, but Yang Zhen’s eyes were glazed over, his body unresponsive.

She called his name repeatedly, but he didn’t answer. Her trembling hand reached for his nose, and she felt nothing. He wasn’t breathing.

She screamed, her body collapsing, her cries echoing through the room.

“It’s coming,” Chen Henian said calmly, his eyes fixed on the corpse. “Catch the snake.”

A bulge rose on Yang Zhen’s belly, his skin splitting open, blood gushing out, a snake emerging from the wound.

The white snake was covered in blood, but its scales still shimmered, its eyes burning with rage and resentment.

Yang Juan had never seen such a snake before. Its gaze terrified her, her face paling.

The snake’s mouth held a piece of flesh, the gallbladder Chen Henian had been looking for.

As the snake fully emerged, Zuo He swung his sword, aiming for its head.

But the snake was too quick, coiling around his legs and escaping through the open door.

Chen Henian threw a silver needle, the red string trailing behind it, piercing the snake’s body.

It should have been trapped, but a white shadow suddenly appeared behind it.

The shadow roared, its fangs bared, a powerful gust of wind swirling through the room.

Even in death, the snake spirit that had almost become a dragon possessed some power, but it was a fleeting resistance.

The snake escaped, the shadow vanishing.

“After it!” Chen Henian yelled.

They ran out of the room, colliding with Yang Dali.

“Honey! Honey!” He rushed inside, finding his wife collapsed beside his son’s lifeless body.

His son was dead, his wife catatonic.

As Chen Henian, Jiang Wan, and Zuo He left the courtyard, they saw a crowd gathered outside the gate, their faces hidden by straw hats, their bodies blocking the path, their presence menacing.

The entire village was there, the night dark, the rain still falling, their faces grim and unreadable, their eyes like knives, their clothes soaked, their gazes hostile.

They knew about the fetus transfer, they knew the Yang family had intended to sacrifice Chen Henian. An outsider was expendable. They stared at him, ready to seize him.

The three kept their heads lowered, wanting to leave quickly.

But Yang Dali emerged, a cleaver in his hand, his voice filled with rage. “You’ll pay for my son’s life!”

He yelled at the villagers, “Catch them! Don’t let them escape!”

The villagers surged forward, their anger palpable.

Chen Henian scoffed. Even avoiding the cesspool, he still managed to step in shit. Disgusting.

The crowd pressed in, wielding sticks and sickles, the muddy path making escape difficult. Jiang Wan kicked one of them aside, creating an opening, and they ran, the villagers chasing after them, relentless.