Chapter 35: “…you probably think your body deserves to be punished even more”
Wu Heng looked utterly baffled.
When he returned to the classroom, Xie Chongyi was already asleep again.
Was what he just saw an illusion?
Not long after he lay down, Xue Shen and Xue Qi also came back to the classroom.
He Siyu’s snores still rumbled on without pause, rising and falling, not only full of rhythm but also incredibly penetrating—sometimes sharp, sometimes rough, sometimes abrupt, and then again stretched out and lingering.
At first Wu Heng thought it unbearably noisy, but in the end drowsiness triumphed over the racket. Facing the window, his eyelids gradually drooped shut.
Replacing the snores came the deafening blare of drums and gongs.
Elderly aunties were marching on the track, beating waist drums. In front of them, the flag team held up bright banners of every color, fluttering in the wind. The chubby yet spirited grade director held his belly, looking with satisfaction at the stage below.
“This is what an opening ceremony for a sports meet should look like. Not bad, not bad. Truly the style I so carefully handpicked.”
The director’s face and voice blurred away, and the faces of students from all grades across the school, along with the teachers standing with their hands clasped behind their backs, turned sharply clear.
The school uniform of Hanzhou No.1 High was notorious for being hideous. Black was a kaleidoscopic black, red was the dried, filthy blood-red of a crime scene discovered three months late. The ugly looked even uglier wearing it, while the good-looking could somehow wear it with a certain striking charm.
“This damned uniform must have been tailor-made for people like Xie Chongyi!”
“Fatty Nian should be banned from ever again designing uniforms—or opening ceremonies. Kick him out already!”
“I’ve got two events today, what about you?”
“Is the cafeteria giving out mung bean soup for free today?!”
“Wu Heng?”
The boy standing in the middle of the crowd suddenly heard his name called. He looked around and saw his geography teacher standing not far away.
Their geography teacher’s surname was Ying, given name Liuquan. He was quite young—only twenty-two when he started teaching at Hanzhou No.1 High. Many teachers called him a genius, but he didn’t look the part at all. Ying Liuquan’s bearing was utterly ordinary, unremarkable. Unlike other teachers who dressed neatly, his shirts were always wrinkled, his sweaters pilled, his jackets either too short or too tight. He always looked awkward and at a loss, and not many students liked him.
He had spoken to Wu Heng before. Though Wu Heng couldn’t quite recall his exact features, he retained some impression of the man’s frame and aura.
“Wu Heng, when you’re in a crowd, it’s the easiest place to lose yourself. To be yourself is actually very hard. Ninety-nine percent of people are only being the version of themselves that others see.”
Ying Liuquan stood not far away, waving at him over and over.
Wu Heng looked left and right, confirming that the man was indeed waving at him, not someone else.
Were they really that familiar?
It wasn’t until Wu Heng saw the look on the man’s face—fear, panic, terror—that he froze.
A faint floral fragrance gradually drifted into his nose.
Wu Heng frowned and suddenly opened his eyes.
Right in front of him, soft branches of trailing jasmine were hanging down toward his face. He held his breath, his gaze drifting off, eyes faintly trembling.
At some point, the entire classroom had been completely overtaken by trailing jasmine—white blossoms, green leaves and stems, blooming in clusters everywhere.
Trailing jasmine wasn’t supposed to have a fragrance. Likely it had mutated, equipping itself with every trait it should—and shouldn’t—have.
The others were no longer visible; their bodies were swallowed up beneath the plant’s branches and leaves.
The thing was still spreading. Wu Heng could only watch as its boughs pushed endlessly into the classroom, branching out, sprouting fresh buds. He could even hear the rustle of leaves brushing together, and the sound of bark splitting apart under the strain.
That trailing jasmine had been planted at the school gate for years. The last time Wu Heng saw it, it was only waist-high. Now, having mutated, it hadn’t simply stayed obediently at the entrance, eating people there—or perhaps, it had never been satisfied with just that corner. It had been evolving all along, biding its time, waiting for the right moment to drag everyone in the school into its net.
That was Wu Heng’s guess—after all, it had already struck right in front of his eyes.
Wu Heng tilted his head, glancing at the bird lying by his pillow. It was still asleep.
That shouldn’t be. Birds were far more alert than humans—X was a mutated bird at that. How could it possibly be sleeping so deeply?
Another hallucination?
No, that didn’t fit either. Judging by the way the trailing jasmine was growing, if it could both proliferate wildly and induce hallucinations at the same time, why would it have waited until now to attack?
Wu Heng didn’t rashly disturb it. He turned his palm downward, pressing it to the floor. Vines spread out noiselessly, creeping over the ground.
X was closest—and thus the first to be slapped awake.
It jolted up in a panic, eyes wide, meeting its master’s cold, icy gaze.
Before it could try coaxing Wu Heng, its vision was filled with a sky of green leaves, leaving it dumbstruck. It buried its head and, as inconspicuously as possible, slipped into Wu Heng’s blanket.
One after another, crisp but subdued slap-slap sounds echoed through the classroom, followed by sharp intakes of breath. Those who woke stayed motionless, not daring to move, unsure of what they should do.
The vines reached the spot where Xie Chongyi was lying. They hovered near his face, as though hesitating.
Two seconds later, they went slack, replaced by a much thicker vine.
It clenched into a fist—larger than Xie Chongyi’s head—ready to smash down on his face.
Smash it to bits, coat it in breadcrumbs, fry until both sides were golden brown…
Wu Heng said nothing, merely ordered them apart. The fist-sized vines each slunk away, leaving only a single thin, soft tendril behind.
Wu Heng lifted a finger, and the vine lashed down hard and fast across Xie Chongyi’s face.
Xue Shen, who had just woken up, stared at the scene: “…”
Once the vines had finished whipping everyone awake, they immediately crawled back into Wu Heng’s body. Wu Heng’s gaze met that of Lin Mengzhi, who was trembling all over.
“Set it on fire.” Wu Heng mouthed the words.
Sweat streamed down Lin Mengzhi’s face. “It’s wet… what if it won’t catch?”
“…”
Lin Mengzhi said nothing more. He turned his palm upward, and flames suddenly burst forth.
Boom—
A tongue of fire shot up in an instant, licking toward the mutated jasmine that filled the classroom.
The flames caught on one branch, quickly spreading to consume an entire sea of green above their heads. The green ocean turned red.
The trailing jasmine’s branches convulsed violently under the burning pain, and cracks opened in the cage it had woven.
Someone shouted, “Run!”
Wu Heng scrambled to his feet and leapt onto the window. For some reason, he glanced back.
Except for Lin Mengzhi, everyone was bolting for the classroom door, abandoning everything else, caring about nothing else.
But Xie Chongyi was running in the opposite direction.
Wu Heng looked blank for a moment, then pulled his gaze away and turned to Lin Mengzhi. “Go get Wu Zhi. Leave what’s outside to me.”
With that, the boy didn’t look back—he vaulted out the window in one smooth leap.
—
The trailing jasmine’s main body was at the school gate, its branches extending inward from there. Its crown leaves had already been set alight, burning fiercely.
The sky had not yet lightened when Wu Heng’s figure appeared soundlessly at the school entrance. He vaulted up onto the gate, sitting atop the school’s name plaque.
The trailing jasmine hadn’t yet realized its territory had been invaded. Wu Heng let his arm fall, and from his palm vines thrust into the soil, striking straight toward the roots of the trailing jasmine and the banana tree beside it.
The trailing jasmine, driven back in defeat, finally snapped back to its senses. Its branches trembled as leaves and vines surged upward, thick and lush. The banana tree beside it released a wave of enticing fragrance—within that drifting scent was a faint, nearly imperceptible yellowish tinge.
Wu Heng was swallowed in a tangle of countless vines.
He lifted his head, watching as the sky above was gradually blotted out.
So this was the price of trying to monopolize a crystal core.
His pupils flickered a few times before turning entirely crimson. From his body, vines erupted like crashing waves, scattering outward like a rain of blades, stabbing madly at the thick, nimble mutant plants on both sides.
Bitter yet fragrant plant sap splattered, filling the air with an ever-thickening green mist.
A faint green sheen spread over Wu Heng’s fingernails. Beneath his skin, his veins writhed and crept like living vines.
The boy’s figure looked almost leisurely as he sat atop the school plaque, yet his consciousness was locked in a brutal battle—pain, blood, slaughter, exhilaration, he felt them all.
When yellow leaves began to drift down from above, Wu Heng raised a hand and caught one.
He let out a soft laugh. “Do you need me to sing you a farewell song?”
♪ What a beautiful jasmine flower—
The trailing jasmine, enraged, launched its final attack. But every strike was intercepted by the poppy, who was already fighting in a frenzy. The jasmine seemed to want to accuse it—Traitor!—yet the poppy only grew more ferocious, its posture brimming with pride.
To shield its master from every wound, to charge into battle for its master, to seize victory for its master—this was its highest glory.
Gathering all its vines together, the poppy struck downward. The trailing jasmine’s roots were wrenched clean out of the soil.
What no one expected was that its roots were entangled with those of the banana tree.
Grabbing the banana tree came effortlessly.
Soon, it dug out two eerie green crystal cores and offered them up to Wu Heng.
A faint trickle of pale-green droplets slid down Wu Heng’s chin. From his ear to his jaw, a thin wound had appeared.
He wiped it with the back of his hand, then looked at the vines before him and murmured, “You’re hurt.”
“Thank you. You’ve worked hard.” Wu Heng took the crystal cores—not to store them, but to absorb them directly.
The surroundings fell silent. His field of vision was a wasteland. Unlike ordinary plants before the apocalypse, which simply toppled when cut down, these mutant plants withered rapidly once they fell. Especially after being stripped of their crystal cores, they faded into shriveled husks almost instantly.
Wu Heng felt a brief pang of melancholy, then jumped down to the ground.
It wasn’t that he lost his footing—but his body suddenly swayed, a wave of dizziness rushing from his heart to his head. His expression darkened drastically, and he bent over, retching violently.
Several meters away, Xie Chongyi stood in the shadows—Wu Heng didn’t know how long he’d been there. A red mark still lingered on his face, yellow leaves clung to his shoulders. As he stepped forward, the leaves slid soundlessly to the ground.
“Crystal cores aren’t chocolate or candy. You can’t just eat however many you like. In fact, even chocolate and candy shouldn’t be eaten too much. Three proper meals a day are enough.” His brows were cool, his voice even colder.
When Wu Heng finished vomiting, he straightened slowly, his face pale.
Behind his back, his right hand curled slightly. Vines crept up from there, resting on his shoulder. But Wu Heng could clearly feel their weakness and fatigue.
“For now, rest well. Don’t use your powers again.” Xie Chongyi’s voice was low.
“What happens if I do?” Wu Heng could tell Xie Chongyi was in a foul mood again. He didn’t want to bother him—but he had to ask.
Xie Chongyi countered with a question of his own. “Wu Heng, are you afraid of death?”
Wu Heng was momentarily at a loss. “I want to live.”
“But you’re not afraid of death.” Xie Chongyi ran a finger over the scorch mark left by the vine-whip on his face; the wound was tinged with blood—enough to guess how hard someone had struck.
The next second, with Wu Heng completely off guard, Xie Chongyi suddenly reached out and seized the boy’s throat.
Wu Heng was shoved backward, stumbling; several times he nearly fell but Xie Chongyi grabbed him again. Before they hit the school gate, Xie Chongyi’s other hand was already braced behind the boy’s head.
Wu Heng tried to strike back. A vine slid out from the palm less than two inches away, and a metallic-sweet taste of blood rose in his mouth.
Xie Chongyi could see the surprise in his eyes clearly.
“Doesn’t concern me—I wasn’t trying very hard,” Xie Chongyi said, his hand rubbing the boy’s neck.
The amused look on his face vanished in an instant. When his brows and eyes closed in on Wu Heng’s, they were so sharp they took your breath away.
“You should understand now: if you keep doing as you please, you very well might get hurt worse.”
“Are you warning me?” Wu Heng lifted his gaze.
“Not a warning,” Xie Chongyi shook his head innocently. “An intimidation.”
“See, I could snap your neck right now, cut out your energy cores and use them for myself.” The hand that had been at his nape slid slowly down and pressed into Wu Heng’s chest.
Xie Chongyi lowered his eyes; his look was calm, but Wu Heng felt a sudden, piercing pain. His body went limp. Xie Chongyi released him and caught him as he collapsed.
“In the world we live in now, you’d better not expose your weaknesses—like your gluttony. Worse than exposing a weakness is appearing weak. Don’t give them even a second.”
Wu Heng felt the back of his neck being stroked—an oddly soothing touch.
“Next time, don’t act alone. And don’t get greedy with energy cores. Especially those too strong—your body can’t absorb and digest them all at once. They could smash your organs to pieces.”
“If it happens again,” Xie Chongyi lowered his head, lips brushing Wu Heng’s ear, “I’ll take your people and leave. I don’t need a member who doesn’t listen.”
He thought he’d already been tolerant—indulgent, even—toward Wu Heng. Yet the boy gave almost no one his trust.
Xie Chongyi found it both laughable and pitiful, though he wasn’t exactly the sympathetic type.
Wu Heng’s face went pale. Breathing in the comfortable, faint scent on Xie Chongyi’s body, his thin fingers grasped the man’s sleeve without hesitation.
He lifted his head in Xie Chongyi’s arms, his face damp with cold sweat from the pain just now, long lashes clumped together.
“I’m sorry. I was wrong.”
Xie Chongyi lowered his gaze at him for a while, then pushed at the boy’s shoulder so he could stand upright. “How do you feel now?” His earlier tone of indifference and mockery had softened considerably.
Wu Heng spread his palm. The vine was still there, but limp and powerless.
“Indigestion?”
Xie Chongyi glanced at the withered jasmine and banana trees by the school gate and said coolly, “Those two mutant plants sneaked a good meal. Their mutation level isn’t lower than the ones you’ve faced before. You stuffed two of their cores into your body at once—lucky it didn’t kill you.”
“How do you know all this?” Wu Heng lowered his hand, still feeling awful.
“Because when I feel unwell, I stop. But when you feel unwell—” Xie let out a cold laugh, “you probably think your body deserves to be punished even more.”
Wu Heng: “…”
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***Author’s Notes:
Xie Chongyi: Your crimes are countless. I can’t take it anymore.
Wu Heng: I’m sorry.
Xie Chongyi: …You okay?
Onlookers: …Since when was the class monitor this easy to appease? Why didn’t we know?
Sorry for the delay. We were hit by a super typhoon and lost our internet connection. It’s the rainy season in our country. Cri.