Eaten Ch.50

Chapter 50: He just wanted a full meal

The food in his mouth tasted like a sticky mouthful of dirt.

But Shen Ping’an couldn’t possibly spit it out in front of everyone. He forced himself to swallow, barely believing that even something as good as instant noodles could taste so dull to him. Glancing around, he saw everyone else eating with relish.

Unwilling to accept it, Shen Ping’an took a sip of the soup.

The broth—thick with oil and seasonings—filled every crevice of his mouth, flooding his tongue with an artificial flavor so strong it was like pesticide. His expression froze for a moment—then the noodle soup burst out from his mouth and both nostrils in three separate streams.

“Holy crap holy crap holy crap holy crap holy crap holy crap!”

“Ah! My clothes!”

“Shen Ping’an!”

Shen Ping’an threw out a quick “Sorry!” and bolted off the vehicle, collapsing onto the snowy ground to vomit until the world spun.

Ruan Silian and Ji Zelan grabbed towels, frantically wiping at the spilled food, while Wu Heng carefully stepped over the seats and got off the vehicle.

The young man crouched silently beside Shen Ping’an. When the latter’s retching finally eased, he said softly, “You’ll get used to it.”

Shen Ping’an was still confused. “Get used to it?”

“Common poppy doesn’t like human food.”

“Common poppy?”

Wu Heng’s face had grown paler from the cold. The wind and snow outside were fierce; even though he wore a down jacket, it was as if he were wrapped in nothing but a thin layer of plastic. He watched Shen Ping’an for a moment before speaking again, his voice hoarse.

“Common poppy is a kind of plant—both you and I are. It began to mutate even before the apocalypse truly arrived. From the start of its mutation, it survived by eating humans. So, if you think of it as a man-eating flower, you wouldn’t be wrong. It eats raw food—living things. Cooked food, it only eats the meat of mutated animals. And if there’s none of that, wood-type energy cores will do. To it, instant noodles are just garbage food.”

Shen Ping’an had vomited until he was completely spent, sitting limp on the ground. Looking up at Wu Heng, who was already standing, he said, “Thanks for the warning.”

“It’s afraid of the cold. I’ll head back to the car first,” Wu Heng said. He pulled the door open and got in. By then, his clothes were already covered in snowflakes; a few clung to his eyelashes and cheeks. But the car’s interior was warm—heated air and human breath raising the temperature far above the freezing outdoors—so the snow quickly melted into water.

“Wu Heng, aren’t you going to eat?” Ruan Silian asked worriedly. “You look so pale.”

Du Yaoyuan instinctively started to mutter something, but the moment he opened his mouth, he shut it again.

Wu Heng simply said he wasn’t hungry and went back to his seat.

Lin Mengzhi switched on a flashlight, its beam striking the ceiling and illuminating the entire interior of the vehicle.

After they cleaned up the mess, they cracked open the windows for a while to air the space out.

“My grandma’s house is in the north,” Ruan Silian said, leaning against the window. “Every year during the New Year, I’d go with my parents to stay there for a week. The snow up north falls like this too—it’s really beautiful.”

Her short hair framed her face softly, giving her a gentleness even more pronounced than before. Since the strands tended to fall into her face, she had to keep tucking them behind her ear as she spoke.

Her melancholy felt different from everyone else’s.

Xue Shen balanced a notebook on his knee, writing and sketching. As he glanced at the snow swirling outside, he couldn’t help but recite, “Snow weighs down the winter clouds, white fluff flies; ten thousand blossoms wither, scarce a bloom survives.”

Ying Liuquan followed without thinking, “Sparse stars flicker faintly, roosting birds find no rest.”

Shen Ping’an pondered for a few seconds, then said, “Restless hearts never settle; sorrow fills the void alone.”

When no one else spoke, Lin Mengzhi scratched the back of his head awkwardly and added, “And the sound of frogs fills the night.”

Xue Shen laughed, saying it was a chaotic ending to the verse, and lowered his head again to continue sketching the map from memory.

“Teacher Ying,” someone asked, “at our current pace, how many days will it take us to reach Nansu?”

Ying Liuquan looked dispirited. “It won’t be at normal speed. In this kind of weather, even a week won’t be enough to reach Nansu.”

“Do we have enough food?” Xue Shen asked, turning to Ruan Silian.

Caught off guard—apparently not expecting him to ask her—Ruan Silian blinked, then quickly nodded. “Enough for a week, at least.”

Xue Qi had a blanket draped over his legs, one that Xue Shen had gone out of his way to find for him back in town. He yawned and curled up in the thickest, warmest corner, his tone still cheerful. “Doesn’t it kinda feel like we’re traveling in an RV right now?”

Only Shen She nodded. “A little bit.”

“I’m getting sleepy. I’ll go ahead and sleep first.” Ruan Silian tugged on the absentminded Dou Lu. “Come on, let’s rest.”

From his seat, Xue Shen lifted his gaze. “Aunt Ji, you should rest too. You and the two girls can sleep next to Xue Qi—there’s more padding on that side.”

“Wu Zhi, aren’t you going to sleep?” he asked the young girl still sitting upright.

Wu Zhi bit her lip and shook her head. “Not sleepy yet.”

Xue Shen only asked out of courtesy. Wu Zhi wasn’t his sister, after all, so once she answered, he didn’t press further. He and Ying Liuquan lowered their voices and focused on discussing their route ahead. Ying Liuquan looked worn out, but his mind was still functioning—he could manage a few answers here and there.

After most of the group had drifted into sleep, Xue Shen called softly, “Old Xie.”

Xie Chongyi, who had just been dozing against his seat, opened his eyes a slit.

Xue Shen hesitated a moment before saying, “Do you really think we can make it to Jingzhou? Honestly, even if it were our parents, I don’t think they could have done it.”

Xie Chongyi closed his eyes again. “That’s why two of them died.”

“…”

“Old Xie, you’re really not sad at all?” Xue Shen gave a small, strained laugh, though his eyes were already turning red.

Still with his eyes shut, Xie Chongyi replied in a cool voice, “I’m proud of them.”

“Shen Ping’an.”

Hearing his name, Shen Ping’an turned his head.

Xue Shen asked curiously, “I remember you did pretty well on the college entrance exam. Why did you repeat a year?”

Leaning back against his seat, Shen Ping’an replied, “My parents wanted me to stay in Hanzhou to take care of my grandparents. But I didn’t want to go to any of the other universities in Hanzhou, and I was just a few points short of getting into Hanzhou University. So I decided to retake the exam.”

“Your parents weren’t thinking that through. With your score, taking it again doesn’t guarantee you’d do better than the first time.”

“Whatever,” Shen Ping’an said lightly. “It’s not like we need to take the college entrance exam anymore.”

“What about you, Class Rep—what school did you want to go to?”

“National Defense, I guess.”

“And Xue Qi’s an arts student?”

“Yeah, he studies violin.”

“What about the class monitor?”

“Ask him yourself.” Xue Shen wasn’t too sure what Xie Chongyi had wanted to do in the future. The guy had once said—completely serious—that he wanted to collect scrap for a living. Another time, he’d said he wanted to be an island caretaker. He’d also mentioned wanting to be a food vlogger, and at one point, a knot-weaving artist.

Xie Chongyi’s voice came faintly, tinged with weariness. “Right now, I just want to be a gardener.”

Wu Zhi had long since lost track of what they were talking about. She kept fidgeting in her seat, restless, until finally she gathered her courage, turned, and tugged at Wu Heng’s sleeve. “Brother…”

Wu Heng opened his eyes, instantly alert. His gaze was pitch-black and sharp, and the look in them made Wu Zhi go cold all over.

The little girl stammered, her hard-won courage vanishing in a flash. “…Good night, brother.”

Wu Heng could tell she had something on her mind. “What is it?”

Wu Zhi whispered, “Something feels weird.”

“What do you mean, weird?” Wu Heng pulled the curtain aside and glanced out the window. The snow had piled up to a certain depth and was still falling. Everything outside looked calm and quiet, nothing out of the ordinary.

Wu Zhi’s unease deepened. “It just… feels weird.”

Wu Heng stared at her, expressionless.

Wu Zhi felt terribly uncomfortable, and after holding it in for a long while, she finally blurted out, “It feels like… something’s coming out down there.”

?

At first, Wu Heng didn’t understand. He bent down to check under her seat.

But the moment he leaned over, he suddenly straightened up again, coughed twice, and glanced toward the back of the bus—where Ruan Silian and the others were still fast asleep, huddled together.

The boy pressed his lips together, pulled his down jacket tighter, then grabbed Wu Zhi by the arm and said, “Come with me. Get off the bus.”

As he stood up, Xie Chongyi opened his eyes and lazily looked at him. “Where are you going?”

“Bathroom.” Wu Heng was cold and hungry, too worn out to keep up any pretense. He yanked the door open, letting in a blast of freezing wind, then pulled Wu Zhi outside and shut the door behind them.

Wu Zhi stumbled as he dragged her along, nearly falling, and couldn’t help but yelp.

“Be quiet.”

“Brother… don’t be mean to me, okay? Let’s just go back to the bus. I feel better now, really, I’m fine,” Wu Zhi pleaded, her face stinging from the icy wind.

The night sky was pitch-black, but the snow made everything faintly glow. Each step they took left a deep print in the thick layer of snow, the buried vegetation nowhere to be seen.

…

Wu Heng took out some tissues, sanitary pads, and a clean pair of cotton pants and shorts for girls from his spatial storage. Pulling Wu Zhi behind a bush shaped like a white mushroom, he crouched down and gestured at the things in front of her.

“…Roughly like this. Got it?”

“Do all girls have this?”

“Sister Ruan and the others too?”

“…” Wu Heng’s ears were red from the cold, his expression perfectly calm. “Men and women are different. I’ll have her explain it to you tomorrow.”

“Okay.”

Wu Heng turned away to give her privacy.

He crouched by a small rise in the ground. The bus wasn’t far off, its entire body wrapped in a thick coat of snow—so much that, if you didn’t look carefully, you wouldn’t even notice a vehicle was parked there at all.

Snow fell in thick, silent flakes. Wu Heng felt his body going numb from the cold. Then he heard a faint rustling behind him—and exhaled in relief as he turned around.

Wu Zhi was standing there with her arms spread out, shielding him with her trembling body.

Wu Heng frowned in confusion and reached out to pull her aside.

“Brother…” she whispered.

Once he moved her out of the way, Wu Heng understood why she had tried to block his view.

Standing before them was a wolf—or something that had once been a wolf. It looked similar to a large wolfhound, but its fangs were much longer, its gaze feral and bloodthirsty, its pointed ears upright, and its tail hung low.

It was about the same height as Wu Zhi, its body massive and muscular, fur bristling backward like a coat of steel needles. Its four legs were thick and powerful, its eyes glowed blood-red, and its saliva dripped steadily from its jaws as it breathed out clouds of rank, metallic-smelling heat.

Wu Heng’s eyes flicked quickly past it, scanning the snowfield behind.

Wolves were pack hunters—they usually moved in groups.

But this one… was alone?

Without a word, he nudged Wu Zhi behind him, his right hand reaching to the small of his back to draw the blade slanted at his waist.

The mutant wolf let out a guttural roar and lunged.

Wu Heng rolled across the ground, his knife slicing along the creature’s leg bone in one swift motion. Blood splattered across the blade—dark, steaming red—and the smell was both nauseating and, to his hunger-hollowed senses, faintly tempting.

The thick, metallic scent spread slowly in the frigid air. The mutant wolf’s claws slammed into his shoulder, and for a moment, his whole right side felt as if it had been crushed beneath a speeding truck.

But he switched hands in an instant, rolling several times across the snow as the wolf came at him again. Just as its enormous paw—bigger than his head—came crashing down, Wu Heng angled his blade upward and drove it straight through the wolf’s thick, razor-sharp paw.

The creature howled, jerking its leg violently, and the impact sent Wu Heng flying. He crashed into a snow-covered bush, branches cracking beneath him. The wolf barreled forward, lowering its wet nose into the thicket to sniff him out.

Wu Heng stretched one hand to the side—and snapped his fingers.

The wolf turned its head toward the sound, and in that split second, Wu Heng’s right hand drove the blade hard into the side of its neck.

The mutant wolf’s fur was like steel armor—even such a fierce stab only left a surface wound.

Still, the beast let out a howl of pain, shaking its massive head twice before baring its teeth and lunging to tear him apart.

Wu Heng clutched one of its legs and drove his blade straight into the wolf’s armpit.

A wet ‘pu chi’ sounded as the blade sank deep.

The pain sent the wolf into a frenzy. Its eyes went blood-red—it bit madly at anything it could reach. One of those bites landed on Wu Heng’s left shoulder, the fangs punching clean through from front to back.

Heavy, ragged breaths rasped against his ear, hot enough to melt the snow beneath them.

Wu Heng’s expression didn’t change. He just kept stabbing upward again and again, until hot wolf blood splattered over him in sheets.

The pressure on his shoulder suddenly eased—the agony of the teeth being pulled free stretched out—and then the mutant wolf’s massive body collapsed onto him with a thud.

Blood spread beneath Wu Heng like a blooming plum blossom, its crimson petals still widening.

Only his blood was brighter.

Twin holes gaped through his shoulder, blood flowing freely.

He struggled to his feet, using his knife as a brace, and looked toward Wu Zhi—already buried by the snow like a little snowman.

Wu Zhi blinked, the snow on her eyelashes falling away to reveal a pair of dark, grape-like eyes.

Wu Heng sat cross-legged in the snow and blood, his slender waist drooping weakly.

Half his face was stained with blood, even a few red drops speckled his eyes; the parts untouched by it were paper-white.

He reached out, mimicking how Shen She had skinned the mutant sheep that morning, and began to skin the mutant wolf.

But the wolf was far larger than that sheep, and he was clearly straining—his injured shoulder slowed the healing of his “Poppy” ability.

Yet his appetite hadn’t lessened in the slightest.

After peeling the fur from the hind leg, he tried to cut through the bone with his knife, only to find it as hard as steel.

So he gave up and instead sliced off pieces of meat—cutting as much as he could eat.

“Brother…” Wu Zhi’s legs went weak. She crawled toward the boy and the fallen wolf, kneeling beside him. “Are you okay?”

The boy sat amid a pool of blood, eating the raw flesh of his fresh kill with unhurried grace—even though he was covered in wounds.

In that world of blinding white snow, only the space he occupied bloomed in a grotesque, vivid red.

It made Wu Zhi think of the monsters in donghua—those beautiful, man-eating demons that appeared on winter nights.

But none of them, she thought, were ever as beautiful as her brother.

Wu Heng’s lips were stained crimson. His gaze stayed fixed on the lifeless body of the mutant wolf before him.

“Why didn’t you go get help?” he asked.

Wu Zhi swallowed nervously and fidgeted. “I thought… you wouldn’t want me to.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know.”

The innards of animals made the best nourishment for plants.

Wu Heng ate only meat and bone; now, he reached his right hand into the still-warm cavity of the wolf’s belly.

The starving Poppy within him spread instantly—like a net—through the beast’s abdomen, drinking deep.

It consumed greedily, sucking the blood from the snow and devouring every last organ until nothing remained.

When only the flesh and the wolf’s head were left, Wu Heng struggled to his feet, swaying slightly.

“Let’s go back.”

“What about the rest?” Wu Zhi asked, wondering if they should bring some back—for her brother’s next meal.

“Have Shen Ping’an and Dr. Chen come deal with it,” Wu Heng said. The warmth spreading through his body made his tone almost pleasant.

“Okay!” Wu Zhi turned and dashed off eagerly.

Wu Heng followed, but as he turned, his gaze caught—by accident—on something in the distance: several pairs of red eyes glinting in the snow, filled with rage, madness, and hunger.

But when he turned fully to look, there was nothing there.

By the time Wu Heng returned to the bus, he had already changed into clean clothes from his storage space—thicker, softer, and warm against his skin.

He didn’t care whether anyone noticed.

In truth, given their current circumstances, no one’s mind was clear enough to linger on trivial things like “Did you change into new clothes?”

Before getting on the bus, he had even taken the time to scrub the blood from his face with snow, and run his fingers through his hair once.

He wasn’t a bad person. He just wanted a full meal.

Even if someone did find out, it didn’t matter—or so he told himself.

Yet, deep down, Wu Heng still didn’t want a certain person to know… even though the image that person had of him was already halfway shattered.

The moment Wu Heng sat down, the cold, fresh scent of blood drifted into Xie Chongyi’s nose.

Xie Chongyi slowly opened his eyes. If not for the calm and quiet inside the bus, he might have thought Chen Meng had gone mad with hunger and started gnawing on someone.

Everyone else was asleep.

The metallic tang was coming from beside him—from Wu Heng’s seat.

He turned his head.

The boy’s face, pale and listless just an hour ago, now glowed with color. His lips had turned full and pink again.

There were tiny droplets of water on his face, and his bangs and lashes were still damp.

He looked full of life—and in this snowy night, that liveliness seemed faintly uncanny.

Yet the person exuding that eerie vitality seemed blissfully unaware.

Wu Heng smiled at him, eyes curving like crescent moons.

“Go to sleep, class monitor. Good night.”

————————————

Author’s Note:

When Wu Heng’s full, he’s nice to everyone in the world. ^^

Xie Chongyi: I feel like he secretly ate something he really shouldn’t have…

Wu Heng: Always sneaking bites. Never stopped once.

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