"Bro, if we dig up this tomb and find no artifacts, I'm out." Cold Moon waved the shovel in his hand, tossing a large chunk of black soil forcefully aside. The airborne black dirt had a tendency to enter his mouth, making him uncomfortable. With a couple of "Ptui, Ptui" sounds, he resentfully threw the shovel to the side and sat down on the freshly excavated soil.

This was a huge tomb situated by a lake in the depths of the mountains. According to the investigations of the brothers, Cold Wind and Cold Moon, this tomb supposedly entombed a high-ranking general from the Qing Dynasty or something of the sort. The brothers had come here specifically to dig up artifacts, hoping to strike it rich. In reality, the two brothers belonged to a relatively affluent family. Their parents were successful businesspeople with substantial wealth. However, they tragically perished in a plane crash, leaving a sizable inheritance. Both brothers were underage, so the inheritance was currently under the guardianship of their uncle. The elder brother, Cold Wind, was 17 years old, standing at 1.85 meters tall, with a slender and handsome figure. The younger brother, Cold Moon, was 16 years old, 1.80 meters tall, with a naturally delicate, cherubic face that gave the impression of an incredibly cute and well-behaved child. Unfortunately, reality often conflicted with appearances. Within their family circle, Cold Moon was the most rebellious and troublesome. Every classmate and teacher at school feared his potential for causing trouble.

Cold Wind hoisted the hoe above his head and forcefully struck the tomb, eliciting a resounding "clang." Without any emotional inflection, he said, "Moon, we've hit the stone slab. Let's leverage it open together and see if there are any artifacts inside. After all, he was a general. There should at least be a sword buried with him."

Cold Moon stood up, dusted off the dirt from his rear end as was his habit, and then joined Cold Wind to pry open the stone slab covering the tomb.

"Bro, what kind of wood do you think this coffin is made of? Why hasn't it rotted, considering it's from the Qing Dynasty, nearly two hundred years old?" Cold Moon bent down, tapped the coffin with his hand, and remarked, "This wood might be worth a fortune."

"Let's open it first, Moon. Are you still afraid of skeletons? If you are, close your eyes later; I'll collect the treasures." Cold Wind fixed his gaze on Cold Moon and said, with a hint of tenderness in his eyes, as if he was already convinced that there were artifacts inside the coffin.

"Okay," Cold Moon replied, drew a dagger he carried with him from his heel, inserted it into the crevice of the coffin's wooden boards, and forcefully levered it open.

"Crack, crack, crack." Three sounds echoed as the coffin split open. Cold Wind looked at Cold Moon and then bowed his head, saying, "Turn your head away. I'll lift the coffin lid."

Cold Moon walked to the side, leaning against an ancient tree behind him, eyes fixed on Cold Wind. Cold Wind's slightly longer hair fell over his face, making it hard to see, but Cold Moon, at that moment, felt that his usually aloof elder brother was the most adorable creature in the world.

Accompanied by eerie sounds, the coffin lid was lifted, and Cold Moon saw Cold Wind freeze in shock, staring dumbfounded inside the coffin. "Could it be that there's a lot of treasure in there, and my brother's stunned..." Cold Moon speculated in his mind, unable to resist asking, "Bro, what's wrong? Are there skeletons?"

Cold Wind subconsciously shook his head.

Seeing Cold Wind's gesture, Cold Moon rushed to the edge of the tomb and peered directly into the coffin.

"Ah..." In the early autumn dusk, a piercing, mournful scream echoed in the depths of the ancient forest, startling the birds perched in the surrounding trees, causing them to scatter. Feathers floated from the sky like goose-down snow in midwinter, creating a peculiar atmosphere. If anyone happened to pass by, they would undoubtedly refrain from investigating. Human courage has its limits, especially when encountering such eerie surroundings. Generally, people flee swiftly, as far away as possible.

"He... he... he seems... motionless. Bro, what... what should we do?" Cold Moon's right hand trembled as he pointed at the pried-open coffin, speaking in a terrified, faltering tone.

Within the intact coffin lay an assortment of burial items, adorned by the setting sun's radiant, shimmering halo. This alone wouldn’t have frightened the brothers. However, amidst the precious metals and jewels lay a zombie.

The appearance of the zombie was that of a middle-aged man, around forty or fifty years old, with a ghastly white face where veins were visible. He was dressed in Qing Dynasty official attire. Just like in the movies, his hands were crossed over his chest, and one could see the jet-black nails protruding from the cuffs.

Shaken out of his stupor, Cold Wind turned his head towards the path they had tread to reach the place. He seemed afraid of waking the dormant zombie. He uttered a low "Run," then darted out like an arrow released from its bow.

Cold Moon continued staring at the zombie, frozen in place, and with a quavering voice, cried out, "Bro, I can't move my legs, I can't run, I..." At this point, his voice choked abruptly, as if he had remembered something and stopped speaking.

Cold Wind forcefully gripped the hanging vines, propelling his body up the slope. However, upon hearing Cold Moon's helpless whimper, he, in a moment of urgency, turned around and jumped down, running to Cold Moon's side. He seized Cold Moon's hand and hastily dragged him away.

Cold Moon tugged at Cold Wind, speaking with a composed demeanor. "Bro, it’s just a common zombie. It won't wake up, at least not now. Just before we pried open the coffin, there were no signs of movement. It was covered in dust, indicating that the zombie hadn't left the coffin. Besides, if it were alive, it would have attacked us for disturbing its grave."

"Bro, are you suggesting that once the sun sets, the zombie will wake up and suck our blood?" Cold Moon's voice remained calm, almost as if he anticipated something.

Hearing Cold Moon's words, Cold Wind shuddered and subconsciously glanced at the zombie lying in the coffin. "Let’s go. Whether he wakes up or not, it's safer to run away. Don’t risk our lives here."

"No, bro. I hope he wakes up. If he does and bites us, then we become zombies, right?" As if fearing Cold Wind's lack of understanding, Cold Moon added, "Zombies can live forever. If he doesn’t wake up, at least we can take this treasure."

"Crazy, Moon. You've seen too many vampire movies. Perhaps I'm the crazy one, ever since I saw the zombie at first sight. But one thing I can be certain of is that zombies aren't afraid of sunlight. Otherwise, this zombie would have decayed already."

Turning his head to glance at the zombie, Cold Wind continued to stare at Cold Moon, shaking him by the shoulders. There was a mix of complex emotions in his voice - anger, pity, helplessness, and sadness. "Even if you could live in the sunlight, are you sure he will bite you? And even if he bites you, will you become a zombie? Will you retain your consciousness? Human understanding of zombies is limited. If he bites you and doesn't give you his blood, you’ll die. Let's go, little brother. Please, I’m begging you, let’s go. Mom and Dad have left us. I don't want to lose you again."

Cold Moon broke free from Cold Wind's hands, resolute. "No."

With a "slap," Cold Wind's palm struck Cold Moon's face, leaving behind a red mark on his otherwise adorable visage.

After being slapped, Cold Moon glared hatefully at Cold Wind, then turned away and walked to the edge of the tomb, seating himself against the stone slab.

"Are you coming or not?" Cold Wind asked, his face dark.

Cold Moon raised his head and glanced at his brother. He knew his brother was truly angry. Inside, he struggled intensely: my brother has never hit me, and since our parents passed away, he has always cared for me. He's doing this for my own good. But whether it's about immortality, eternal survival, or gaining incredible power, any of these would be worth risking my life for.

"I'm not leaving."

"Fine, since you're not leaving, you want to live forever, right? I'll finish you now. You have a choice, leave or die?" Cold Wind walked over to Cold Moon and, in anger, lifted him. Under that fury, Cold Moon's 130-pound body felt as light as a feather falling from the sky.

Being lifted, Cold Moon was also furious. In their family, he was known for his rebellion and stubbornness. Threatened by Cold Wind, he naturally ignited.

Cold Moon screamed back, somewhat hysterically, "Go ahead, kill me. Even if you kill me, I won't leave."

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

"Smack." Another crisp, forceful sound of a hard slap, and Cold Wind, as if drained of strength, couldn't hold onto Cold Moon anymore. Cold Moon's body fell to the ground, unbalanced.

Sitting on the ground, Cold Moon touched the red mark on his face without looking at Cold Wind. In the corner of his eye, a glistening tear seemed to roll down, perhaps out of emotion, or perhaps out of a sense of injustice.

"Alright." Cold Wind sat down next to Cold Moon. "If you stay, I'll stay too. We'll die together. Is that enough?"

"Hmph." Cold Moon grunted softly, fell silent, and the two brothers remained in silence.

~~~~

The sun seemed unable to resist the blood-red glow on the horizon, slipping down the mountains from the west, gradually darkening the sky. At the edge of the ancient tomb in the deep mountain forest, only the urgent gasps of the two brothers remained amidst the chirping insects and birds. If Cold Wind's breath was due to fear, Cold Moon's was one of excitement and anticipation.

Night gradually fell, and the moon ascended the eastern slope. Its pallid, silver light shone upon the zombie's face, where one could even see the fine blood vessels. But there was still no movement. Since the sun began to set, Cold Wind held the hoe tightly, ready for a fierce strike when danger arose. Cold Moon, with his adorable face slightly flushed from excitement, bore two distinct red marks: the one from Cold Wind’s slap and another from his own emotions, giving off an eerie, even alluring, vibe. However, the disappointment was evident in his now-morose expression.

After an intense struggle within himself, Cold Moon eventually stood up. Dusting off his bottom, he took slow steps to the coffin, placing his hands on its lid, silently observing the zombie.

"Bro, the zombie exists, but it has no consciousness," Cold Moon said, his words tinged with endless disappointment.

Cold Wind also rose and, having relaxed from a high state of tension, switched on his flashlight. Walking over to Cold Moon, he patted his shoulder and softly said, "Let's go, back home." At this moment, he didn't dare scold his obstinate brother too much. Knowing his brother’s character, he understood that when a dream shattered, he might do something crazy. He only hoped his brother’s mind didn’t veer too far off the edge.

Cold Moon haphazardly grabbed the accompanying items next to the zombie, tossing them into the bag he brought. After swinging the bag onto his back and casting one last reluctant glance at the zombie, he wordlessly left with Cold Wind. Cold Wind was anxious and nervous, and Cold Moon was disappointed. Both forgot to fill the grave or even close the coffin lid.

Having taken a few steps, Cold Moon stopped abruptly, as if he had made a significant decision. He turned to his brother and said, 'Bro, I want to drink zombie blood. That way, I can become a zombie.'

'Come on, drop this unrealistic idea. Zombies are just a legend, a myth, you know? You've watched too many movies. Immortality, that's just a fanciful dream of mankind. Let it go,' Cold Wind explained. To reinforce his point, he added, 'If immortality were real, ancient emperors would've found a way to survive until now through any means. Can't you see the reality? Don't dwell in dreams.'

'Bang!' A thundering noise echoed as Cold Wind's large fist landed on Cold Moon's temple. At that moment, he didn't care about treasures, artifacts, or zombies; he just hoped his punch would knock his delusional brother unconscious, so he could carry him home.

Yet, when someone is firmly committed to their beliefs, they often exhibit extraordinary resilience, much like anger. Usually, Cold Wind's punch would easily render Cold Moon unconscious, but now, Cold Moon merely staggered a bit, gazing at Cold Wind with angry eyes, yet remaining upright. 'That trick doesn't work anymore. You think you can always knock me out? My training is real,' Cold Moon retorted.

'I'm doing this for your own good. Don't throw your life away with absurd notions,' Cold Wind bellowed. His little brother was being too unreasonable.

Perhaps shaken by Cold Wind's outburst, Cold Moon tried a pitiful approach. 'Bro, let me try, please. I’m tired of this life. Even if I die, it's worth a try. Imagine the immense temptation if it works. We could gain incredible strength, live forever. Think about it. That's a massive temptation.'

'I'm sick of this life too. Living at Uncle and Aunt’s place, they constantly torment us, all for the sake of seizing our parents' inheritance. If survival is meaningless, why not let go? If I die, the inheritance will be yours. If I don't, there will be endless prospects. Do what you want. Cold Wind calculated in his mind. In the end, even he, who was always rational, couldn’t resist the overwhelming temptation. Or rather, he was willing to conduct this experiment with his life for his little brother.

'Alright, Moon. Want to drink the zombie blood to try?' Cold Wind stated. 'Based on my analysis, the chances of becoming the zombie you dream of are one in three. The other two possibilities are either being poisoned to death by the corpse toxin or ending up like this zombie, a vegetable, in scientific terms.'

Given his brother's nature, he couldn't agree this readily; there had to be a catch. Cold Moon was on his guard, fearing that Cold Wind might inadvertently knock him out again and carry him back home. Each time they fought, regardless of the outcome, Cold Wind carried Cold Moon back home after rendering him unconscious. Because Cold Moon was too reckless, if left to himself, it would surely lead to fatalities, either him dying or killing someone.

'Bro, you?' Cold Moon was surprised and suspicious, staring at Cold Wind, but found nothing amiss in his brother's face.

'I will drink the zombie blood. You are the only family I recognize. I can't let you take such a risk. It was our parents' wish for me to take care of you, so I have to be responsible. If I die, you’ll inherit the property. In the future, be less reckless, especially with Uncle. He’s up to no good.'

'Got it. You’ve instructed me about the inheritance; you can go and try now.' Cold Moon spoke coldly. His voice conveyed no emotion.

Cold Wind turned around and headed towards the zombie by the grave. Seeing Cold Wind's back exposed and vulnerable, Cold Moon clenched his fist and aimed a blow at Cold Wind's occiput, hoping to knock him unconscious.

Cold Wind seemed to have foreseen Cold Moon's attack on his occiput, swaying slightly to avoid the punch. Then, he seized Cold Moon's wrist. With a slanted head, he softly said, 'You're my little brother. Do you think I don’t know what you’re up to? Thinking of knocking me out? Spare yourself. Either I'll try, or we’ll go home. There’s no third option for you.'”

“Why should you go and try it? Our parents' wish for you to take care of me is nonsense. Our parents boarded the plane and met their end. Do you mean they knew they would die and left instructions to take care of me, then got on the plane to commit suicide?” Cold Moon leaned forward slightly, infuriated.

“Our parents were meant to be away for a period before returning. That's why they asked me to look after you until they came back. Who knew the plane would crash, making their instructions their final wishes. There are two choices for you: go home, or I go and drink the blood to sober up your mind. No more daydreaming.”

“So what if you were born a year earlier? There's nothing extraordinary. Let me tell you, don’t dictate everything for me. I have my freedom. Anyway, I'm set on drinking zombie blood. I don’t care if you drink or not. If you do, fine. At most, two people dying together. Uncle will get the inheritance cheaply. Brother, you’re the eldest. According to family rules, you're responsible for inheriting our parents’ estate. If you die, it's avoidance. And I'm the second son, free and unrestrained. Even if I die, it doesn’t matter.”

“What's the point of inheriting the estate if you’re gone, little brother? If I go back home, Uncle will definitely accuse me of trying to monopolize the family property, attempting to harm my own brother, then sue me and inherit our parents’ estate. Can't you see this clearly?”

“Bro, why not? I have a bottle on me. Let's fill it with the zombie blood and take it home to study it. We can start by testing it on a dog; that's safer.” Cold Moon suggested. Initially, he hadn’t thought about testing it on a dog. He had only intended to secure the zombie blood while his brother wasn’t paying attention. However, the idea of testing it on a dog seemed like a much better plan now, at least to avoid the potential death of the two brothers.

“Fine,” Cold Wind agreed.

Cold Moon approached the coffin, half-crouched, and reached for the zombie's right hand. The zombie's icy-cold hand caused a shiver down his spine. Yet, the excited emotions had overshadowed the fear. He took out a small knife and cut the artery in the zombie’s wrist. The crimson zombie blood dripped from the pale hand. Cold Wind quickly collected it in the bottle. The bottle was originally a cola bottle they had bought from the store to quench their thirst on the way there, intending to discard it. But now, it had found its use.

Once the bottle was full of zombie blood, Cold Moon tossed the zombie’s hand back into the coffin and raised his head, shifting his gaze from the zombie to Cold Wind's face. Under the night sky, his eyes, large and round, glinted with an excited light. “Bro, should we destroy the zombie? If it's discovered, it'll create international headlines. 'General's tomb of a certain province and city dug up, zombie found in broad daylight.' Imagine a few more people like me drinking the zombie blood after a successful experiment. The world would be full of more zombies. It's best to destroy it to avoid more enemies in the future.”

“Let's burn it. As long as it doesn’t ignite a large fire, no one outside will see it,” Cold Wind said, lighting a cigarette with a lighter and then tossing the cigarette pack to Cold Moon.

“Okay.” Cold Moon lit a cigarette too, then toyed with the lighter. Both brothers gathered the wood nearby and threw it into the coffin.

Standing in front of the burning coffin, the unfinished wood crackling and popping, the daring duo engaged in idle conversation.

Cold Moon stared at the burning zombie inside the coffin and asked his older brother, "Bro, if we become zombies successfully, what are you planning to do?"

Cold Wind’s eyes were fixed on the zombie as well. His thin lips curved slightly upwards, forming an elegant smile with a touch of indifference in his tone, "I haven’t thought about it."

“If we become zombies, I’ll hide for a few hundred or even thousands of years, and when I have enough power, I’ll emerge and cause chaos in the world, eliminating those I dislike.”

“Oh, really?” Cold Wind chuckled lightly, teasing his innocent brother, “In that case, I’ll become Batman and take care of my disobedient brother.”

“Would you dare? Heh heh. You said I’m your only family. If you kill me, you’ll be alone. No one will burn joss paper for you.”

“Do zombies die?” Cold Wind turned to look at Cold Moon. In his slender, aloof eyes, there was now a smile. Perhaps human smiles are always left for the people they love most, be it family or friends, setting aside all other concerns.

With the coffin already burnt, the two brothers took shovels and covered the hole with dirt, preparing to leave.

On the narrow path in the deep woods, Cold Wind and Cold Moon, carrying the unearthed artifacts and the blood taken from the zombie, headed towards their motorcycle parked on the mountain road.

“Moon, be careful,” Cold Wind said in concern to his younger brother. Though it was September and no autumn rains had yet fallen, the mountain path wasn’t the easiest to navigate. Moreover, there were venomous creatures like snakes and scorpions along the road, ready to strike at any moment.

“Okay,” Cold Moon lightly answered. He followed his brother towards the motorcycle parked at the side of the road.