Eaten Ch.48.1

Chapter 48.1: “…If I die, you die with me”

Wu Heng had always brushed things off vaguely before, but this time, it seemed he couldn’t.

So, looking into Xie Chongyi’s beautiful eyes, he said honestly,

“I really like your smell.”

It was the truth — not a lie.

Xie Chongyi obviously hadn’t expected this rare moment of honesty from Wu Heng. He tried to find any trace of fabrication on the other’s face.

Under his scrutinizing gaze, Wu Heng’s heart pounded wildly, and even the two sprouting leaves on his plant form trembled.

“Like me?”

Xie Chongyi reached out, his palm resting on Wu Heng’s neck as he pulled him closer, right up to his face.

“Then follow me from now on. If I die, you die with me.”

Wu Heng didn’t respond to that. Instead, he lifted his eyes toward the ceiling and asked,

“The Jingzhou faction should have a lot of intel. Why don’t you go to them?”

Xie Chongyi withdrew his hand.

“I don’t want to go now.”

“Why not?”

“How can you be sure they represent all of Jingzhou?” Xie Chongyi countered with a faint smile in his eyes.

Wu Heng was puzzled.

“Aren’t they wearing military uniforms?”

“That only proves they’re soldiers.”

Lin Mengzhi happened to overhear this as he came over carrying a sack. His brain wasn’t as quick as Wu Heng’s, and he asked,

“What do you mean? What do you mean?”

Wu Heng pressed his lips together, thought for a moment, and explained,

“If we had followed Wen Yuan and the others to Jingzhou just now, that would mean we joined Jingzhou through their squad. Others would immediately label us as ‘Wen Yuan’s people.’ Even if they didn’t say it outright, it would still make it harder for us to move freely once we got there.

Besides, we don’t even know the actual situation in Jingzhou right now. Going there rashly, without understanding the circumstances, would just make it easy for someone with ulterior motives to use us.”

Although Wu Heng wasn’t personally interested in Jingzhou, from just a hint from Xie Chongyi, he could roughly guess why he had declined their invitation.

Lin Mengzhi rubbed his head, feeling a headache coming on.

“They have time to mess around with this nonsense, saving just about anyone.”

Wu Heng glanced at Lin Mengzhi.

“Have you packed everything?”

“All done! Look, I even changed into new clothes.”

Lin Mengzhi proudly showed off the floral shirt and beach shorts he’d scavenged from the town.

Wu Heng lowered his eyes, staring at Lin Mengzhi’s bare calves.

“I suggest you change into something thicker. Or at least bring a set with you.”

“Why? It feels pretty warm right now.”

As a fire-type ability user, Lin Mengzhi’s body temperature had risen significantly. Even with his arms and legs exposed, he didn’t feel cold in the slightest.

“…Just a feeling,” Wu Heng said. His body felt fine, but his fingertips — the farthest part from his core — were already cold, tucked inside his sleeves for warmth.

“It might get colder soon.”

“Get colder? But it’s almost summer.”

Lin Mengzhi was confused, but when he caught sight of Wu Heng’s expression — heavy and still as stagnant water — he hesitated only a moment before slinging the sack over his shoulder and turning away decisively.

“I’ll go see if there are any down jackets left around that area. I’ll find one for you too, yeah?”

After Lin Mengzhi ran off, Wu Heng continued speaking with Xie Chongyi.

“So it’s not that they need to rescue people — it’s that they need people.”

“I can’t say for sure.”

“What were you talking about earlier, just now?” Wu Heng asked curiously.

Xie Chongyi replied flatly,

“It’s not something convenient for you to know.”

Another secret?

A flicker of frustration stirred in Wu Heng’s chest. He bit his lower lip until it turned pale.

Xie Chongyi noticed. After a brief pause, he said,

“Xue Shen and Xue Qi’s parents, and my father — they were all public officials. Their mother, and my father, were both killed not long ago.”

Wu Heng froze. Confusion flickered across his eyes.

“You don’t want to go and see for yourselves right away?”

He couldn’t find even a trace of heartbreak or grief on Xie Chongyi’s face.

Unless… unless their parents were people like Wu Shiming and Zeng Like —

But no. From what Wu Heng could tell of their personalities, none of them seemed like they came from such warped families.

Xie Chongyi pretended not to notice Wu Heng’s darting eyes.

“I do want to go,” he said calmly, “but not by following them.”

Wu Heng realized something new — Xie Chongyi was the kind of person whose reason outweighed his emotions.

That was… troublesome.

People like that weren’t easy to lure into his stomach — not unless they wanted to be eaten.

This new discovery left Wu Heng’s face like frost. Even when he joined the others to start sorting supplies, his expression remained blank and cold, making Wu Zhi and Lin Mengzhi so tense they didn’t dare say a word.

Their vehicle was a small tour bus. Counting the driver and guide seats, there were twenty seats in total. Du Yaoyuan and Shen Ping’an worked together to tear out the extra ones and toss them outside, clearing space to load up supplies.

Du Yaoyuan wore a sleeveless shirt and was trimming his yellow-dyed hair with a pair of scissors, cutting it unevenly until it looked like it had been chewed by a dog. Like Lin Mengzhi, he’d dyed it before the apocalypse — now his black roots were growing out, giving him a patchy, messy look that was honestly painful to see.

“Let me shave it for you,” Shen Ping’an said, pulling out a fruit knife.

“…?”

Ignoring the terror on Du Yaoyuan’s face, Shen Ping’an wiped the blade on his sleeve, glanced around at the others, and announced,

“Anyone else who needs a haircut can come over now. Free of charge for the time being.”

No one moved, staring at him with various shades of disbelief. Shen Ping’an dragged over a chair and added matter-of-factly,

“My family used to run a barbershop.”

“Me, me, me! I want one!” Lin Mengzhi shot forward like an arrow.

“Shave it clean, just leave like… two centimeters, yeah? It’s too damn hot.”

Holding the knife handle, Shen Ping’an angled the blade slightly, shaving along the direction of Lin Mengzhi’s hair growth. The edge was sharp and well-honed; tufts of hair fell neatly to the floor. His practiced technique left the onlookers wide-eyed.

“Wait — you actually know what you’re doing?”

“Your family ran a barbershop — that’s not the same as you running one. How do you even know how to cut hair?”

“My mom said if I didn’t get into college, I’d have to stay and inherit the trade. I started learning to wash, cut, and blow-dry hair from her apprentices when I was in elementary school,” Shen Ping’an said, leaning slightly as he trimmed along Lin Mengzhi’s sideburns.

Those with sharper perception — like Wu Heng and Xie Chongyi — didn’t need to think too hard to realize Shen Ping’an’s upbringing hadn’t been a happy one.

But the less perceptive ones, like Lin Mengzhi and Du Yaoyuan, were instead grinning ear to ear, giving him thumbs-ups and calling out,

“Master Shen! Damn, you’re awesome!”

Shen Ping’an remained expressionless. After finishing Lin Mengzhi’s haircut, he wiped his knife clean and moved on to the next.

Du Yaoyuan scrambled eagerly into the chair.

Lin Mengzhi’s head was now completely neat and tidy. He leaned toward Wu Heng and said,

“A’Heng, you should get a trim too. Your bangs are almost covering your eyes — might mess with your aim when you’re fighting monsters later.”

Wu Heng brushed his fingers over his fringe. Two days before the apocalypse started, Wu Shiming had also told him that his hair was getting too long and should be cut, and he’d listened.

He’d cut it pretty short back then — so how had it already grown long enough to block his vision again?

“Let them finish first,” he said.

Everyone’s hair was cut much shorter. Long hair wasn’t practical now — it took too much time and effort to maintain, and pausing to fix it could even be dangerous. Even Ruan Silian had chopped her waist-length hair to shoulder-length. The only one still keeping a braid was Wu Zhi — a privilege reserved for being the youngest.

When everyone else was done, Shen Ping’an rubbed his wrist and looked up — only to see Wu Heng walking toward him.

Wu Heng paused when he noticed Shen Ping’an’s motion.

“Tired?”

Shen Ping’an instinctively replied,

“No. You want a haircut too?”

The boy pointed to himself.

“Just a little trim. Don’t take off too much.”

“Got it.”

After Wu Heng sat down, Shen Ping’an switched the scissors from his right hand to his left, then carefully wiped the blade several times on the clean sleeve of his right arm. Only after confirming that not a single strand of anyone else’s hair remained on it did he place the scissors back into his right palm.

Wu Heng sat as if he were in an actual barbershop — back perfectly straight, eyes looking straight ahead.

From Shen Ping’an’s angle, the face that had always seemed faint and indistinct to him now appeared almost exquisitely beautiful, as though crafted by an artist’s hand.

“Your hand is shaking,” Wu Heng said, even more certain now that Shen Ping’an was exhausted.

Snip.

A strand of black hair drifted past Wu Heng’s eyes.

Shen Ping’an’s expression grew tense — even solemn. His palms were sweating so much he nearly lost his grip on the scissors. Each time he closed the blades, his eyelids twitched slightly.

Hair was a part of Wu Heng’s body — now literally a part of his body.

Shen Ping’an clenched his jaw, silent and focused, trimming carefully at the overgrown ends. The strands slid like silk between his fingers, so soft and smooth that his breath quickened when they brushed across his fingertips.

Not far away, Xue Qi was looking around aimlessly, unable to help with the work. When his gaze landed on the two of them, he tugged at Lin Mengzhi, who was walking by carrying a sack.

“Hey, hey — look at Shen Ping’an! Doesn’t he look like he’s sculpting a statue of a god?”

“Huh? What are you talking about?” Lin Mengzhi asked, hefting the sack.

Xue Qi deflated.

“Never mind. I need someone with artistic sense to talk to.”

“Get lost,” Lin Mengzhi replied without hesitation.

“Done.”

Shen Ping’an put the scissors away. As the “barber,” he looked even more nervous than the one getting the haircut, but also relieved, as if a weight had lifted off him.

Wu Heng tilted his head slightly after thanking him.

“Did I… have any effect on you?”

Shen Ping’an froze.

“What?”

But the moment he realized what Wu Heng meant, he immediately added,

“No. No effect.”

“Good.”

Wu Heng withdrew his gaze, stood up, and brushed the fallen hair from his knees. His voice was quiet as he said,

“Back then, my plant form probably wasn’t trying to save you — it most likely saw you as food. Or maybe as a tool to show off a new ability. The grafting was inevitable. You think it saved you by accident, but that was just a coincidence.”

“We don’t really understand what happens after grafting, but I suspect your life depends on mine. Your ability level, too, is tied to mine.”

Shen Ping’an glanced at the boy who was half a head shorter than him. Instinctively, he lowered his gaze.

“So… we’re in a subordinate relationship.”

“In terms of ability, yes,” Wu Heng said matter-of-factly. “But we’re not close, so you can treat that bond as if it doesn’t exist. Just act how you normally would.”

He couldn’t even be bothered to pretend otherwise — after all, Shen Ping’an’s life was literally in his hands.

In Shen Ping’an’s eyes, Wu Heng seemed like a completely different person from the one he remembered.

A damp, icy chill radiated from him, wrapping around Shen Ping’an’s mouth and nose, filling his lungs — a suffocating pressure that spread through his whole body.

“I understand,” Shen Ping’an said quietly, gripping the scissors tighter.

A strange discomfort welled up in him — something like rejection.

Someone being driven away should feel anger, but what he felt instead was fear… and sorrow.

Wu Heng, however, didn’t care in the slightest what he was feeling.

He ran his fingers through his hair and said casually,

“You’re pretty good at cutting hair.”

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