Eaten Ch.42

Chapter 42: Sprouted

The hunger of a human and the hunger of a plant symbiont were entirely different things.

Humans were creatures born of a complete, scientific, and maturely socialized civilization. As long as humanity’s path had not yet reached its end, humans could endure hunger right up until death.

But plants couldn’t. And for plant symbionts, it was even worse — once the sensation of hunger arose, they would immediately try to draw energy from everything around them.

Wu Heng lowered his head, picking at his fingernails. Thin threads of blood seeped out from the nail beds.

In his ears, the cello piece gradually softened, turning gentle and slow.

“How was that? Pretty good, right?” Ji Zelan looked around at everyone, and finally turned to Xie Chongyi. “Can we stay?”

“I never said you couldn’t stay,” Xie Chongyi tossed two branches into the campfire, controlling them with his power. “It’s not my call to make.”

Xue Qi had already been on edge on Shen She’s behalf. He pinched his brother Xue Shen to signal him.

Xue Shen adjusted his glasses. “Let’s put it to a vote. Those in favor of letting them stay, raise your hand.”

Xue Qi: “!” He immediately raised his hand high — if he could’ve stood up, he would’ve jumped while doing it. “Shen She is really a good person, truly!”

For his younger brother’s sake, Xue Shen also raised his hand.

Beside them, Dou Lu and Ruan Silian exchanged a glance. Ruan Silian said, “At times like this, I think we should help each other.”

Du Yaoyuan didn’t raise his hand. Neither did Shen Ping’an.

They didn’t know Xue Qi, much less Shen She. Shen She, apart from his cello, had nothing to offer — and he even brought along an older woman. Unless she was an ability user like Dou Lu, a woman’s physical strength was naturally weaker than a man’s, making her an easy burden.

When Xue Qi saw that some people didn’t agree to let his friend and his friend’s mother stay, he didn’t say anything — just looked anxiously at Xie Chongyi. “Old Xie…”

Xie Chongyi lazily lifted his hand.

Lin Mengzhi hesitated for a moment, torn, but still raised his hand. No matter what, they were the same kind.

“A’Heng, what about you?” Lin Mengzhi nudged Wu Heng, who seemed to be spacing out.

Wu Heng didn’t think too much about it and raised his hand.

Seeing this, Xue Qi immediately announced, “Seven votes! Shen She can stay!”

Du Yaoyuan pointed at the spot beside Wu Heng. “Wu Zhi and that bird haven’t voted yet, and Teacher Ying hasn’t voted either!”

At that moment, Ying Liuquan was curled up on the ground. The firelight flickered across his back — he looked like he had fallen asleep.

Xue Qi said, “Even if all three of them vote against, seven still beats five.”

Du Yaoyuan glanced around at everyone, snorted, and muttered, “Bloody saint,” before getting up from the fire and heading behind the nearby bushes.

“Du Yaoyuan, what are you doing? You mad?” Dou Lu called out.

“Not mad, just taking a piss!”

“Sorry for making everyone uncomfortable,” Shen She leaned against his cello case, eyes downcast, his voice soft and full of apology.

“Don’t think that way. Honestly, even if we hadn’t run into you and your mom, it’s not like we’d be happy right now anyway.” Xue Qi gave Shen She’s shoulder a friendly punch.

Xue Shen shot a glance at his carefree younger brother, then, after a brief silence, said, “Next, we’ll keep heading toward Jingzhou. If possible, let’s rest a bit and set out again in two hours. Anyone object?”

“Do we have to go to Jingzhou? Can’t we go somewhere a little closer? We don’t have a car, and there’s nothing to eat…” Dou Lu scratched her head in frustration.

Xue Shen’s tone was calm and measured. “Xue Qi, Old Xie, and I — our parents are in Jingzhou. We have to go. As for the rest of you, do as you please.”

Seeing that no one agreed with her, Dou Lu got up from the ground. “I remember we still have about a dozen potatoes left. I’ll go get them.”

“I’ll go help you,” Ruan Silian said, standing up as well.

“Xue Shen,” Xie Chongyi suddenly spoke up, “come with me for a moment.”

After standing, he glanced at Xue Qi. “Bring him along.”

Xue Shen lifted Xue Qi into the wheelchair and followed behind Xie Chongyi.

“The shrubs here — I remember a lot of them fell when the earthquake ended. But in such a short time, they’ve already grown back,” Xue Shen remarked as they walked. The ground was littered with fallen rocks and broken tree trunks, and cracks of varying widths split the earth. He finally hoisted Xue Qi onto his shoulder. “Let’s hope no monster takes an interest in my wheelchair.”

This wasn’t open land — the treetops were packed tightly together, not a shred of moonlight slipping through. Layers of fallen leaves underfoot made every step feel like walking on cotton.

Watching Xie Chongyi walking ahead, Xue Shen couldn’t help but chuckle. “Old Xie, you never seem to be afraid of anything.”

Xie Chongyi lifted a branch hanging over his head, holding it aside so Xue Shen and Xue Qi could pass first. “Being afraid wouldn’t help.”

“I don’t mean now,” Xue Shen said. “When you transferred from Jingzhou to Hanzhou in our first year of high school, I thought you came with your family. Later I found out you came alone — and even then, you weren’t afraid.”

“Afraid of what?”

“Of being isolated. Of being lonely. Things like that.”

“Should I have been afraid of those?”

Xue Shen let out a long sigh. “I can never win an argument with you.”

“We’re here.”

Xie Chongyi suddenly stopped, turned around, and kicked aside a pile of branches. Beneath them lay a zombie wearing a white lab coat.

Xue Shen blinked. “…What’s this?”

“He was a doctor.” Xie Chongyi crouched down, untying the rope binding the zombie, and spotted a name badge on the coat’s chest —

“Chen Meng. Dr. Chen.”

“So…” Xue Shen already had a suspicion in his mind, but he needed to confirm it.

“Let him take a look at Xue Qi’s leg — see if it can still be healed.”

Hanging over Xue Shen’s shoulder, Xue Qi’s eyes widened. “Old Xie, are you serious?”

“He’s not an ordinary zombie. He can examine patients — that’s all he can do.” Xie Chongyi half-knelt on the ground, his fingers resting against his knee. “If a human’s willpower can override that of animals and plants, then why not a zombie’s?”

At that moment, Chen Meng stood up, tugged at the hem of his lab coat, and said, “Where is the patient?”

“He can really talk?” Xue Qi flailed his hands. “Bro, put me down — put me down right now!”

Xue Shen set Xue Qi on the ground, but the zombie in front of them didn’t move.

“You need to pay the consultation fee first,” Chen Meng said.

“I don’t have any mo—”

“No, not money. Doctors don’t need that much money. Doctors just need a full meal. I’m hungry.” Chen Meng stood tall and straight, his posture full of pride and stubborn dignity.

Xue Shen’s hand, hanging by his side, clenched slightly. He thought for no more than three seconds before a flick of his fingers conjured a blade of water in his hand. “How much do you need?”

Xue Qi realized what was happening a beat too late. He struggled, reaching toward his brother’s hand. “Bro, no—don’t. I don’t need to see him anymore, forget it.”

“Tch.” Xie Chongyi propped his chin on one hand, lifting his eyes in mild irritation. “Can’t you wait to eat later?”

“N-no, I…” The words caught in Chen Meng’s throat. He stiffly lowered his head, the threat in Xie Chongyi’s gaze sending chills all over his body. Quickly, he lifted his head again and said, “Life is above all else. Skipping one meal won’t kill me. Let me examine the patient first.”

He crouched down and looked at Xue Qi. “You’re the patient?”

If the other party hadn’t been drooling, Xue Qi thought he might’ve been able to nod calmly.

“You’re drooling.”

“Zombies all do that. No need to be alarmed. You’re the patient?”

“…Yeah.”

“Where’s the injury?”

Xue Qi rolled up his pant leg.

Chen Meng stared at the pair of legs in front of him, thin and brittle like dead branches, and gave an awkward laugh. “Just looking at them kills my appetite.”

But neither Xie Chongyi nor Xue Shen found it funny — both faces remained expressionless.

Chen Meng stopped laughing. He bent down and sniffed the air near the wound. Xue Qi couldn’t help but pull his leg back slightly.

A moment later, Chen Meng straightened up. “Modern medicine can’t save this. Western or traditional — neither will work.”

“But,” he added, “if you’re willing to give me some time, I might be able to heal it later. Might. I can’t promise a hundred percent, since the lower parts of both legs — from the knees down — are already necrotic.”

“‘Later’? What do you mean?” Xue Shen asked.

“My evolutionary direction is medicine,” Chen Meng said, righteously. “Honestly, eating humans still gives me a bit of psychological pressure — unless they willingly let me, which is… unlikely. And as for mutant beasts, I can’t win against them.”

Xie Chongyi narrowed his eyes. “You want us to take you along and keep supplying you with food.”

“I don’t want compressed biscuits. I want meat. Raw. You kill it, then bring it to me.”

Xue Shen lowered his gaze to look at him. “Prove your ability to us.”

Chen Meng glanced around, then suddenly placed one hand on the side of Xue Qi’s face. Xue Qi stared at that rotting, pus-seeping face inches from his own, then squeezed his eyes shut as a faint itch spread across his cheek.

“All done,” Chen Meng said, withdrawing his hand.

The cut on Xue Qi’s face — the one from a piece of broken stone earlier — had vanished completely.

Xue Shen froze for a moment, then asked — not about his brother, but something else entirely:

“A zombie can actually evolve abilities? Then…”

“I can guarantee there’s only one zombie with medical ethics like mine,” Chen Meng said confidently.

Xie Chongyi looked at Xue Qi thoughtfully. “If your ability is healing, why didn’t you heal Wu Heng back at the hospital?”

“Who?”

“Your last patient.”

“…I wanted to eat you lot, didn’t I? If I’d healed him, it would’ve been one versus two — I definitely couldn’t win.”

“They wouldn’t accept you.” Xue Shen stared at him. “Do you know what you look like right now?”

“I’ve always looked like this.” Chen Meng patted his coat.

Xue Shen seemed to think of something. His tone changed. “Do you remember anything from before you became a zombie?”

“Doctors don’t need to remember that. Doctors just need to save lives,” Chen Meng replied.

Xue Shen and Xie Chongyi exchanged a look. Chen Meng was a zombie — most memories tied to his humanity should have faded with his lost human nature; only the part that made him a healer remained. In that sense, between the two species of human and zombie, Chen Meng leaned more toward being a zombie than a human, even though he could speak, think, and had an ability.

“Let’s head back. I’ll tell everyone about Chen Meng.” Xue Shen bent down, preparing to lift Xue Qi.

Xue Qi pushed aside Xue Shen’s hand. “Don’t tell them. Let him go.”

Xue Shen slowly straightened.

After a moment, Xue Qi, still looking down, spoke in a low voice, “Brother, why haven’t Mom and Dad come to pick us up? Even if they’re busy, they could send someone. Failing that, couldn’t they send a helicopter to Hanzhou?”

“They’re all military — how would they use them to pick up their kids?” Xue Shen bent and stroked Xue Qi’s hair. “Besides, if a helicopter came and only took us, what would the others think?”

“Just make up a reason. Isn’t that what everyone else does?” Xue Qi shoved Xue Shen’s hand away again. “If we go to Jingzhou on our own, who knows how many years that’ll take.”

Xue Shen said calmly, “Others might do that — but Father and Mother wouldn’t. And Old Xie’s parents even less so.”

“Oh, so they just leave us here to rot, then?”

Tears slid down Xue Qi’s face. “Do they even know my leg’s broken? Do they know their youngest son’s basically useless now? Oh wait — not useless, a crippled spider, a monster. A useless monster!”

“It’s just like before — missions, missions, always missions first! What, are we not part of ‘the people’ anymore? They’re hypocrites! Disgusting!”

“Forget it, just toss me into one of those cracks, yeah, right in there — then go tell them I’m dead. Tell them they killed me.”

The noise was getting on Xue Shen’s nerves. “Then crawl over there yourself. You’ll die just the same.”

Xue Qi froze, staring up at him with tear-streaked cheeks.

“You dare talk to me like that? You bastard!” He grabbed a handful of moss and flung it at Xue Shen’s face.

Xue Shen tilted his head to the side, dodging. The damp moss slipped down his collar; he bent his head, calmly picked out the clumps one by one, and dropped them to the ground.

Xie Chongyi leaned lazily against a tree, watching the scene unfold with amusement.

The two brothers fought often. Though Xue Shen usually appeared reserved and well-mannered, he rarely lost a fight — and when he did, it was either because he couldn’t be bothered or because he was deliberately holding back.

This time, too, he didn’t strike back. Instead, he crouched down in front of Xue Qi and used his palm to wipe the tears off his brother’s face.

“Didn’t you say all this was part of the trials for the Savior?”

“Having my leg broken — isn’t that going too far?” Xue Qi’s eyes were red. “I’d rather be deaf, or mute — anything but this.”

“Ever since we left the reptile house, I haven’t brought it up again. I didn’t want to drag everyone’s mood down, and I didn’t want to look weak. But, brother, I’m actually really scared.”

Xue Qi suddenly reached out and clutched Xue Shen’s sleeve. “Just now, some people didn’t want Shen She and his mom to stay. I know why. Do you? It’s because Shen She doesn’t have any powers, and because Aunt Ji is a woman. I know women can be amazing—like Mom—but those two guys don’t think that way. To them, anyone who can’t contribute is worthless. And worthless people get left behind.”

He choked on his words, his voice trembling. “They just can’t create value… and now we’re even traveling with a zombie. I’m the one dragging you down—dragging everyone down.”

He kept his head low, clutching Xue Shen’s sleeve tightly, sobbing.

“It’s fine,” Xue Shen said. “If they can’t accept you, I’ll take you and Dr. Chen and leave. We won’t burden anyone.”

Hearing that, Xue Qi buried his face against Xue Shen’s chest.

Xie Chongyi, who had been standing nearby, finally moved. As he passed the brothers, he pressed down hard on Xue Qi’s head and said curtly, “Let’s go.”

—

Dou Lu tossed a dozen potatoes straight into the fire. “That’s it for now—half a bag of rice, two handfuls of noodles left. Pots and bowls are all gone. We’ll just make do tonight.”

“Where’s Du Yaoyuan? Still not back?” She peered behind the bushes. “Du Yaoyuan! Potatoes are ready!”

“Not hungry.”

“I’ll go check,” Wu Heng said, standing up. The movement startled the bird and Wu Zhi at his feet; he gently pressed them back down. “I’ll be right back.”

“You sure you’re up for it? You look pale.” Dou Lu’s face was darkened by soot and firelight. “Want me to call for him instead?”

Wu Heng shook his head and parted the bushes.

Du Yaoyuan was standing there, his back to the others, staring blankly into space.

The other man’s ability had only just awakened — low level, weak, and the scent didn’t seem all that appetizing. But with so little food left, beggars couldn’t be choosers.

Wu Heng quietly sat down beside Du Yaoyuan.

Hearing the movement, Du Yaoyuan glanced over and let out a sharp, derisive laugh. “If we hadn’t gone to save you, the class monitor wouldn’t have had to leave the team, and we wouldn’t have lost so much. You’re useless — can’t you at least stay put and stop dragging us down?”

Wu Heng hadn’t expected that coming over just to check on him would earn him a scolding. He could only nod. “Alright.”

Du Yaoyuan, full of pent-up anger, kicked the ground twice in frustration, leaving two shallow dents in the dirt.

Wu Heng wondered absently whether someone like that would be hard to digest.

“Wu Heng, I miss my mom.”

“Actually, my mom’s temper is just as bad as mine. I always thought she was the kind of woman who could hold up the sky even if it fell. But… turns out not. It’s only been a few days, and she still got infected just staying at home.”

“I used to fight with her all the time—every single day. We’d even flip the table during meals, smash dishes… I really regret it now.”

Wu Heng picked at the moss on the ground with his fingers. “Why are you telling me this?”

Du Yaoyuan tilted his head back. “Because even though you’re a useless wreck, you’re the only one I feel won’t laugh at me.”

“Mm.”

Wu Heng truly wouldn’t laugh at him—because there was nothing funny about it. They weren’t close; he could barely even remember what Du Yaoyuan’s face looked like.

Du Yaoyuan kept rambling on about his mother, while behind him, bright green vines crept up through the bushes, twining upward among the leaves.

The poppy was injured. It needed more nutrients to recover.

Wu Heng’s expression was calm, as if he were listening intently, but in truth, none of Du Yaoyuan’s words registered. He was simply too hungry.

—

“Where’s Wu Heng?” someone called from the camp.

A familiar voice suddenly broke the air.

“He went to find Du Yaoyuan—over there, behind the bushes,” someone answered.

“I’ll go check.”

The sound of approaching footsteps made Wu Heng instantly retract the vines. His pupils turned dark red, a violent aura rising off him—he nearly lost all restraint, a wild urge to tear everyone apart surging in his chest.

“Du Yaoyuan.” Xie Chongyi pushed through the brush. “Go eat.”

At the sound of that voice, Du Yaoyuan didn’t dare argue. He wiped at his eyes, scrambled to his feet, and quickly ducked back through the thicket toward the others.

“Wu Heng, you too,” Xie Chongyi said.

But Wu Heng stayed where he was, sitting still. He looked at Xie Chongyi quietly, then turned his head away.

“I’m not hungry.”

He was starving—but he didn’t want to eat potatoes.

Xie Chongyi stepped fully into the clearing and sat down beside him. “Not hungry?”

Wu Heng picked at his fingers. “I don’t want potatoes.”

Before Xie could reply, he suddenly lifted his head. “Can I hug you?”

Xie Chongyi’s brows lifted slightly, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. “What will you trade for it?”

Wu Heng glanced down at himself. He had nothing left—nothing to offer.

“Can I owe you first?”

“How do you plan to pay the interest?” Xie asked.

“Interest too?” Wu Heng’s eyes turned faintly shadowed. “Class Monitor, don’t be unreasonable.”

And with that, he reached straight for him.

The boy’s expression twisted—not right. Xie Chongyi dodged easily, reappearing behind him, eyes narrowed, the hint of a smile playing at his lips, though his gaze had turned sharp, assessing.

Vines burst from the earth, lashing toward him in a flurry. Xie Chongyi raised a hand, catching two of them mid-strike and yanking hard. The rest slammed futilely against an invisible barrier in the air.

He looked at Wu Heng’s bloodless face and said evenly, “Wu Heng, you’ve lost control.”

Wu Heng silently pressed his palm against Xie Chongyi’s waist.

From his hand, vines immediately sprouted and wound around the other man’s body.

“I just wanted to hug you.”

“No—you wanted to kill me.” Xie Chongyi smiled, though the warmth in his eyes had vanished without a trace.

Wu Heng’s lashes trembled, and his eyes dropped.

“Didn’t work again.”

Xie Chongyi released the vines in his grasp, caught hold of Wu Heng’s shoulders, and pulled him farther away.

Before long, the sound of voices and the flicker of firelight were both gone.

Beneath an enormous tree—so wide it would take three people to wrap their arms around—Wu Heng was thrown down.

His back hit the trunk hard, and before he could regain balance, he was pulled into a warm embrace.

Wu Heng didn’t have time to think about whether Xie Chongyi would strike back.

He was starving—so hungry that he instinctively clung to the man in return.

“Thank you, Class Monitor.”

The boy buried his face against Xie Chongyi’s neck. The man’s body was warmer than his own—and he smelled good, too.

Without needing Wu Heng’s command, the vines slipped of their own accord beneath Xie Chongyi’s clothes.

The cold, smooth touch of the vines made Xie Chongyi feel as though a snake had slithered inside his shirt.

Goosebumps rose across his skin, though it wasn’t from fear.

“Mm.” Wu Heng burrowed closer, unsatisfied. “So warm…”

His face brushed unconsciously against Xie Chongyi’s ear and earlobe—cool to the touch, not as pleasant as the neck.

The neck held the thickest, most vibrant vein. After a moment’s thought, he leaned in and bit gently at Xie Chongyi’s throat.

The arm around Wu Heng’s shoulders tightened.

Receiving no resistance or rejection, Wu Heng grew bolder—biting again and again at the warm, pliant skin of Xie Chongyi’s neck.

If not for the fear of death, his teeth would already have drawn blood, tearing through flesh and skin from the most vulnerable point of all.

By the time he stopped, Xie Chongyi’s neck was slick with Wu Heng’s saliva.

He lowered his gaze slightly—and could see the boy’s face, dazed and utterly absorbed. It was completely different from his usual gloomy, withdrawn expression. At this moment, there was even a faint, almost imperceptible trace of allure about him.

Xie Chongyi didn’t interrupt. His eyes had caught something unusual among the boy’s dark hair—a streak of green, tender and fresh, standing out starkly against the black.

With one arm still around Wu Heng’s waist, he reached out with the other hand to touch that hint of color.

His fingertips brushed against it—it felt like a leaf.

He pinched the delicate sprout between his fingers and looked closely. Fine veins ran across its tiny green surface.

A thought crossed Xie Chongyi’s mind—something that seemed both possible and absurd.

To confirm it, he gently parted Wu Heng’s hair along the line of the leaf.

And there it was, hidden among the roots of his hair—the unmistakable green of a sprout.

Xie Chongyi’s brows moved ever so slightly.

Wu Heng… had sprouted.

————————————————

Author’s Note:

On the surface: his brow moved slightly.

In reality: So cute!

<< _ >>