Eaten Ch.12

Chapter 12: Violet Moon

The young man staggered back onto the street, his steps uneven. He picked up his bag and a few knives. Just then, a taxi happened to pass by, and he flagged it down casually.

Once inside, he collapsed into the back seat. His clothes were completely soaked, but he didn’t feel cold. What he felt was hunger—an intense, ferocious hunger, far worse than anything he’d experienced before.

His mind, however, remained unusually clear despite the hunger. His pitch-black eyes stared fixedly at the driver’s nape, and something inside his body seemed to be churning, writhing.

Back at the apartment complex, Wu Heng quickened his pace toward his building.

He didn’t check the time, but the moment he stepped into Lin Mengzhi’s yard, Lin Mengzhi came running out in tears.

“Mengzhi, I need to eat,” Wu Heng said, grabbing Lin Mengzhi’s arm tightly.

It felt to Lin Mengzhi like his bones were about to be crushed. He shouted for him to let go and turned his head—only to come face-to-face with Wu Heng’s eyes, so dark they were nearly purple.

“A’Heng, what’s wrong with you?” Not just his expression—his eye color was off too.

Wu Heng instead grabbed him by the collar. Their noses nearly touched as Wu Heng lowered his eyelids and murmured, “You smell… delicious.”

A wave of panic surged into Lin Mengzhi’s abdomen.

“N-no problem! I’ll cook something for you right now!” Lin Mengzhi flailed to break free from Wu Heng’s grip and scrambled into the kitchen, nearly tripping over himself.

He opened the fridge and didn’t even bother picking or rinsing vegetables. He dumped the broccoli, napa cabbage, and tomatoes—still in their plastic bags—onto the cutting board, roughly chopped them, and threw everything into a boiling pot. When the water was ready, he tossed in five pounds of dumplings without a second thought.

Wu Heng didn’t even take off his backpack. He buried his head and devoured the food.

Lin Mengzhi stood a short distance away, frowning. “Slow down, or you’ll scald yourself and end up with esophageal cancer.”

Wu Heng held his chopsticks and looked up. “Is there more?”

This time, Lin Mengzhi didn’t ask anything. He dove back into the kitchen and turned on the stove. He dumped in the entire bowl of crispy pork he had specially made a couple of days ago. He wasn’t as flustered this time—he even chopped up some cilantro and bird’s eye chili to use as seasoning.

This pot could feed a pig, Lin Mengzhi thought.

Wu Heng switched to a large ladle and shoveled food into his mouth. But the moment he took the first bite, his movement paused. Still, he swallowed, then said, “Don’t put chili in next time.”

“Chili? You mean the bird’s eye ones? I thought spicy was your favorite?” Lin Mengzhi, sitting on the floor, blinked in confusion. Wait—does turning into a zombie change your taste preferences? Zombies don’t eat spicy food?

“Now when I eat spicy stuff, it doesn’t feel good.” It wasn’t just pungent—his tongue actually hurt, and he kind of wanted to slap Lin Mengzhi twice.

“Then I won’t add chili next time,” Lin Mengzhi nodded, completely oblivious to the murderous intent briefly flickering in Wu Heng’s expression.

As the second pot was nearly emptied, Lin Mengzhi carefully asked, “Are you full now?”

“More or less,” Wu Heng replied.

Now that he was done eating, Lin Mengzhi wiped the sweat off his forehead and breathed a sigh of relief. “Shit, you scared the hell out of me. I honestly thought you were going to eat me just now. Seriously—did something happen on the way? It’s late, you’re covered in mud, and… honestly, I noticed something else. You’re different from when you left earlier.”

“You looked like a ghost before you went out. If I didn’t know you and saw you on the street, I’d probably be scared to death. But now you look even better than before.”

Wu Heng used to seem constantly depressed and listless, his face pale and bloodless. It was like his whole body had been dusted with gray powder—you couldn’t quite see him clearly, and he always seemed to drift outside the world.

Lin Mengzhi knew it was because of Wu Heng’s family—those two only had eyes for the mentally challenged Wu Zhi. So Wu Heng had gotten used to hiding himself, dulling his presence down to nothing.

He had known Wu Heng for many years. As a child, Wu Heng used to smile a lot. But at some point—he couldn’t say exactly when—both the Wu Heng in his memories and the one in front of him had become blurred, as if their features had faded away.

But the Wu Heng before him now was completely different. His face glowed with a brilliance it had never shown before. His eyes, usually lowered and dull, now shimmered with light. His lips, having regained color, were stained crimson, as vivid and sharp as blood.

Yet because Wu Heng had always been expressionless, even this drastic transformation didn’t lead Lin Mengzhi to associate him with anything demonic.

The boy’s expression remained cool and distant. Lin Mengzhi thought—maybe he accidentally became a god.

Wu Heng had no idea that, in Lin Mengzhi’s mind, he was already being deified. He briefly recounted what had happened that morning in the suburbs.

“Wait—wait, you’re saying… you got mugged, then crushed into pulp, then some flowers dragged you away and ate you clean?” Lin Mengzhi spoke while inching backward. “So what are you now? You’re definitely not a zombie.”

“I don’t know,” Wu Heng answered honestly. “Maybe I mutated.”

“Mutated again?” Lin Mengzhi’s eyes widened. “That bird mutated, you mutated—this world…”

Wu Heng recalled the frenzied flower vines he’d seen in the flower field and said softly, “The apocalypse has long since begun. We’re only just now noticing. It’s just been waiting for an official curtain to rise.”

Lin Mengzhi shuddered. X, the bird, let out a cry from atop the chandelier.

—

At midnight, Wu Heng woke up in his room. He immediately sensed something off about the light filtering into the room, and he pulled open the blinds.

A moon hung in the sky—violet in color, like a fine piece of purple jade.

The light it cast reminded Wu Heng of certain disinfecting lamps in hospitals, which were also violet.

He grabbed his phone and snapped a photo, sending it to Xie Chongyi.

It was already late, and he didn’t expect a reply—but Xie Chongyi replied instantly.

[Do you know what kind of relationship makes someone randomly send another person photos they took?]

Wu Heng thought Xie Chongyi was mocking him. His finger hovered over the unsend button—just as Xie Chongyi sent a photo of the same violet moon back to him.

[Wu Heng, my friend, what are your thoughts?]

[I don’t know.]

[Wanna talk by voice?]

Wu Heng often found it hard to keep up with Xie Chongyi, mostly because Xie Chongyi didn’t have a consistent rhythm when talking.

But Wu Heng wanted more information, so this time, he was the one to initiate a voice call.

Once it connected, he didn’t say anything right away—until the voice on the other end called out uncertainly, “Wu Heng?”

Xie Chongyi’s voice was unusual for someone their age—deep, but not raspy. It contrasted with the rather obnoxious impression he’d given Wu Heng over the past few days. It actually didn’t sound so annoying.

“Mm. It’s me.” Wu Heng sat on his bed, leaning against the headboard, his fingers digging into his palm.

“You messaged me at midnight. Are you scared?” Xie Chongyi asked with concern in his voice—but it was laced with teasing.

“No,” Wu Heng denied quickly. His gaze drifted out the window, to that eerie, beautifully colored crescent moon. “It’s Monday. The rain outside has stopped. Do you think after today, everything will go back to normal?”

“That question doesn’t fit the image I have of you right now. Ask something else.”

Wu Heng took a deep breath. “I think when the sun comes up, the outside world might start looking like something out of those movies.”

“Like what?”

“Terrifying, probably.”

“Then are you scared?” Xie Chongyi repeated his earlier question, then added, “I’m at school. If you’re scared, you can come find me.”

“You’re at school?”

“There’s fewer people here. Might be safer to hide out.” No sooner had Xie Chongyi finished speaking than there was a laughing curse in the background—clearly, someone else was with him.

Wu Heng didn’t care who Xie Chongyi was with or who else was still at the school. He turned down the offer. “I’d better not. It’s not safe to go out at a time like this. Mengzhi’s downstairs—I’m not scared.”

“Mengzhi? Your childhood friend?” Xie Chongyi let out a short laugh. When he spoke again, his tone had clearly turned colder and more distant. “Good luck. I’m hanging up.”

After the call ended, Wu Heng realized—too late—that not only had he gotten no information, but it also felt like he’d just been given the cold shoulder by Xie Chongyi.

He tossed the phone aside and sat by the window, squinting at the moon.

His body felt no discomfort from the strange color of the moon. In fact, it was the opposite—he sensed a faint energy, flowing from his fingertips through his entire body.

Just like in a wuxia movie, Wu Heng thrust his palm out toward the window.

Nothing happened.

Apparently, he hadn’t been gifted inner strength as a side effect of his misfortune.

The shade of the violet moon kept shifting as time passed. By the time the first light of dawn appeared, it had turned translucent—then vanished like any normal moon.

Moments later, the sun rose. A layer of pale gold spread across the city sky, and the snowy-white clouds were lit like golden gauze. Wisps floated like dragons in flight—it was breathtakingly beautiful.

Watching the long-lost sunrise before him, Wu Heng couldn’t help but hold his breath.

Cheers rang out from the neighborhood, echoing endlessly.

After three years of constant rainy season, the sun had vanished from sight for just as long. Now, every person on Earth was brought to tears by this sunrise—overjoyed, overwhelmed. After three years of silence and stagnation, all signs of life were revived in this one moment.

Wu Heng sat quietly by the window until the sunlight on his face grew uncomfortably warm. Only then did he lower his head to check the time—it wasn’t even six o’clock yet.

By now, the sun had fully risen, and at this rate of ascent, it would likely reach its zenith by nine.

But no one else had noticed this oddity. Down in the community garden, plenty of people had already rushed out to bask in the sun.

Wu Heng checked the current temperature on his phone: 25°C.

He jumped out of bed and found that the thick coat he’d worn yesterday was now far too hot to wear. He grabbed a shirt and threw it on, then quickly called Lin Mengzhi.

“The sun’s out!” Lin Mengzhi’s voice was jubilant. “We stockpiled all those supplies for nothing—we’re screwed!”

Wu Heng began pulling out every bucket and basin to collect water. “Check the time.”

“Holy shit! It’s 5:47!” Lin Mengzhi stared blankly out the window at the laughing, carefree people. “They’re screwed…”

“Store up as much water as you can,” Wu Heng said grimly. “I’m worried the weather’s going to swing to the opposite extreme. If that happens, we could lose water and power.”

Even though he and Lin Mengzhi had already bought quite a few large containers of purified water, they’d held back from buying too many due to space constraints. Now, every drop counted.

Lin Mengzhi’s expression shifted. He lunged to the window, flung it open, and shouted at the familiar faces outside at the top of his lungs:

“Get inside! Go home! Hurry the hell up!”

“There’s something wrong with that sun!”

“Aunt Zhang! Sister Meimei!”

The brightness of the sunlight didn’t last long—the light gradually began to dim.

At first, Wu Heng thought it was clouds drifting past, obscuring the sun. But when he stepped up to the floor-to-ceiling window, he realized that wasn’t the case at all.

It wasn’t that the sunlight had faded—it was that the sun itself had changed color.

The sun had turned a deep violet-black, with only a faint white corona left at its edge. Because of this, the world below was plunged into a murky, eerie shade of dark purple.

The people basking in the garden all wore the same puzzled expression.

“What’s going on?”

“Never seen the sun like this before! I need to snap a few pictures!”

“Forget it, I’m going back to bed.”

A woman still in her pajamas yawned and turned to head back, but she had only taken a couple of steps when a shadow lunged at her from behind, slamming her violently to the ground.

Squelch—her throat was torn open, blood spurting onto several people nearby.

Screams erupted.

More and more people were tackled and bitten. Cries of pain, shrieks, and roars filled the air, savage and relentless—like wild beasts feasting.

Under the dark violet sky, the number of twisted, broken figures grew. They staggered and swayed through the garden and hallways, searching for new food.

Countless people, unaware of what was happening—whether stepping out for work or just to buy groceries—were attacked the moment they walked outside. They were bitten, torn apart, and silenced, then soon after, became one of the undead themselves.

Wu Heng stood behind the window, silently watching the entire scene unfold from beginning to end. He exhaled slowly, reached out to shut the window, and then looked down to unlock his phone.

As expected, the internet was flooded with news—so fast and overwhelming that even the authorities couldn’t delete it fast enough. The images accompanying the posts were so gory that platforms were crashing the moment they were uploaded.

[I called the police, but no one’s picking up—what the hell is going on?]

[There’s so many cases like rabies, but worse—it spreads faster. People go insane right after being bitten. I don’t dare go outside.]

[Help, help—my husband suddenly went crazy and bit our son. I’ve locked them in the bedroom. What do I do? Take them to the hospital?]

[Isn’t anyone going to do something?]

[Why are those things all over the streets? My god, they’re attacking random people!]

[It’s zombies! The apocalypse is here! Grab whatever weapons you’ve got, brothers and sisters!]

Wu Heng didn’t join in the flood of online posts. This was exactly the kind of scenario he had already anticipated.

He opened WeChat, skipped over dozens of new messages from Lin Mengzhi, and checked his chat with Xie Chongyi.

There was nothing from him.

Wu Heng had always felt that Xie Chongyi knew more than most people—and that scent on him still lingered in Wu Heng’s memory, something he couldn’t quite shake. So, for once, he decided to take the initiative. After thinking for a moment, he sent a message:

[Xie Chongyi, are you okay?]

Two minutes passed before Xie Chongyi finally replied.

[I’m fine. How about you and your little Mengzhi?]

<< _ >>

**TN

Update is slow, still waiting for the series to end.