Chapter 55: Obedient, Like Living Ornaments
Wu Heng softly said thank you. For some reason, his lower back had gone weak and hot under Xie Chongyi’s kneading fingers.
He pressed his palm lightly against Xie Chongyi’s forearm and tilted his face upward, trying to make him keep talking.
“You just said that the apocalypse began twenty years ago. What did you mean by that?”
Xie Chongyi lowered his eyes, his gaze sticky and lingering on Wu Heng. “It began—but no one knew. Is that so hard to understand?”
“Destruction doesn’t happen overnight. If we must trace it back to its origin, then from the moment humankind’s ancestors were born, the apocalypse had already sounded its horn—and has shadowed us ever since.”
“……”
“I don’t have many memories of my father. He was a quiet man, always wanting to retire and return to family life. But my mother disagreed.
My mother… she was wise and calm, a model soldier in every sense. In my memories, she was either on a mission or on her way to one. She was wounded many times, and she was the first to notice the anomaly in the Earth’s magnetic field. She forbade either my father or me to sacrifice ourselves for anything that merely served as an extension of our own desires. Yet she herself could sacrifice everything for the ideals she believed in. I always thought she was the most contradictory person in the world.”
“She would visit me once every three months. Each time, I saw only her back. I once asked her—why did you give birth to me? Was it because you loved Father, because I was the crystallization of your love? Or did you just need a descendant to carry your coffin after you died in battle? She said she loved me. That she sincerely wanted to bring a new life into the world.”
“She lied. She was lying.”
It was the first time Wu Heng had seen Xie Chongyi like this.
He thought of Ying Liuquan in the other room.
Ying Liuquan drew out the darkness in everyone’s hearts. With almost no effort, he could find the deepest, most hidden shadow inside each person, magnify it, twist it into a noose hanging from the beam—and make people willingly slip their necks inside.
Before Ying Liuquan, they could hardly keep any secrets to themselves.
Once again, he felt a violent urge—to kill—and the one he wanted to kill was, ironically, the teacher who had once comforted him.
In truth, Wu Heng didn’t have any shameful secrets. He simply disliked the feeling of being completely seen through.
Lost in his own thoughts, he only half-heard Xie Chongyi’s voice beside him. The man spoke quietly, recalling everything from his childhood—the T-shirt with an animated portrait his mother refused to buy him in kindergarten, to the day she didn’t come to the airport when he left Jingzhou. He spoke of his father’s death, and when he reached that part, a slight tremor broke his voice.
The sound made Wu Heng uneasy. He didn’t know how to respond to such a raw display of vulnerability. Xie Chongyi wasn’t someone he could comfort like a wounded bird.
Would saying “You’re not a beast, I still care about you” make any difference?
That confusion lingered for half a minute before dissolving into action.
“Class Monitor,” Wu Heng said quietly, “let’s take a break.”
He wasn’t used to moments like this. In his youth, there’d been no time for discovery or indulgence—only study at school, chores and responsibilities at home, and the occasional beating. The weight on his spirit had long crushed any sense of personal longing.
Lin Mengzhi had once teased him to relax before he drove himself sick, but Wu Heng never really understood what that meant. The one time he tried to figure it out, all he found was boredom and a dull sting.
His chin rested on Xie Chongyi’s shoulder. Xie Chongyi’s palm was hot. The instant it closed around him, a flash of white light shot through Wu Heng’s mind, and he instinctively thrust his hips forward.
Xie Chongyi could grasp two at once with one hand—his own and Wu Heng’s.
In stark contrast to Wu Heng, who trembled at the slightest touch, Xie Chongyi remained as composed as if engaged in the most serious and solemn task imaginable—provided one ignored the dark crimson pooling in his eyes and his heavy breathing.
Xie Chongyi tilted his head, his breath brushing against the cool skin of the boy’s ear. A faint sting lingered where his teeth had been—a mark that was more instinct than intention.
Afterward, he pressed his lips to the spot and murmured softly, “Desire, love, hunger—those are the three instincts that drive all living things. When I’m close to death, I’ll still seek them out. It’s the last proof that I’m alive.”
Wu Heng couldn’t clearly hear the words; everything had blurred together. His body was cooler than Xie Chongyi’s, yet it was he who trembled first. The warmth between them went far beyond the comfort of a simple embrace.
Without realizing it, his hand moved, tracing the line of Xie Chongyi’s side, feeling the steady strength beneath. The closeness made his thoughts scatter. He buried his face in the man’s shoulder, trying to muffle the moan caught in his throat.
There was no kissing, not even an embrace—only the most primal release of desire.
When it was over, Wu Heng leaned weakly against him, breathing unevenly.
“Don’t just stand there,” Xie Chongyi’s palm covered Wu Heng’s hand; he hadn’t come yet.
Wu Heng’s technique was still unskilled. Even with Xie Chongyi guiding him, he couldn’t control his strength, applying pressure that fluctuated between light and heavy.
The moment he sensed the other was about to come, Wu Heng instinctively tried to pull his hand away, only to be easily restrained by Xie Chongyi. Warm, sticky fluid spilled into Wu Heng’s palm. He couldn’t hold it all, and it dripped through his fingers onto the floor.
Wu Heng blinked, his face displaying utter disgust for the first time in his life.
“Class Monitor…”
Xie Chongyi unconsciously brushed his lips against Wu Heng’s soft cheek. “You can lick it clean.”
Wu Heng remained expressionless, wiping his hand clean on Xie Chongyi’s jacket.
The two men pulled up their pants. A sudden gust of wind burst through the room, slamming the window against the wall. The glass shattered with a sharp crack.
Xie Chongyi froze for a moment. When he looked back at Wu Heng, his expression had completely changed.
He hadn’t forgotten what had just happened—far from it. He was perfectly aware of everything.
Wu Heng’s face was pale, flushed with uneven color. Xie Chongyi leaned closer, still caught in the haze of what had just occurred. His lips parted slightly.
“A’Heng, did you enjoy it?”
Wu Heng’s gaze dropped; he didn’t meet Xie Chongyi’s eyes. His breathing was shallow. After a pause, he gave a faint nod. “…Yes.”
“Want to play again sometime?”
That question made Wu Heng look up sharply, surprise flashing through his eyes.
He realized then—Xie Chongyi had come fully back to himself.
The boy stiffened, wary now, like a snake raising its head in defense.
Calmly, Xie Chongyi took the unfinished belt from Wu Heng’s hands and tied it for him, his movements precise and unhurried.
“You’re inexperienced. I could tell.”
Wu Heng’s expression darkened, his cold temperament returning in full. It was as if no trace of desire had ever existed in him.
Before, Xie Chongyi had merely found him interesting.
Now, he found him dangerously interesting.
When he finished tying the belt, he reached out and lightly tapped Wu Heng’s head—almost affectionate. “Let’s do this again.”
Then he stepped back, opened the door, and left.
—
In the next room, chaos had already broken out.
Lin Mengzhi’s flames had singed several people’s hair, but it did nothing to break the strange spell on them.
Du Yaoyuan and Xue Qi were affected the worst—the former had grabbed a kitchen knife and was halfway through slashing his own throat when Xue Shen stopped him; the latter lifted the same knife and drove it toward his leg before being restrained.
Xue Qi collapsed onto the floor, sobbing uncontrollably.
“I want my mom! I want my leg—give me back my mom!”
Xue Shen’s head throbbed painfully. He tore a bedsheet into strips and tied up those who had tried to harm themselves.
But soon, a wave of despair crept over him too.
A single thought filled his mind—
Everything they were doing was meaningless.
Even if they reached Jingzhou, they could not change the inevitable destruction of the world.
Tears slid down Xue Shen’s cheeks. He looked at Xue Qi through blurred vision and used the back of his hand to wipe the tears from the boy’s face.
Then, a light and ethereal sound of strings broke the silence—soft, hesitant, and fragmented.
At some point, Shen She had taken out his cello. Sitting on the steps of the staircase, his head tilted slightly, he drew the bow across the strings. At the moment the sound rang out, a faint red gleam flickered in his eyes. Notes burst forth, and his entire expression sank into the world of music.
Everyone froze for a brief moment.
Lin Mengzhi, sweating and exhausted, exhaled in relief. He thought Shen She had finally activated his ability—using sound to awaken everyone from their madness.
But just then, Dou Lu suddenly rushed up to the second floor—
and jumped straight over the railing.
Bang!
Shen She’s bow moved faster, the music sharper.
Lin Mengzhi stared wide-eyed at Dou Lu’s body lying motionless on the floor. His pupils shrank in horror, and he shouted, hands clamped over his ears, “Damn it! He’s lost it too! He’s helping that damn Teacher Ying!!!”
Xue Shen swung his arm, summoning a whip of water that lashed toward Shen She, knocking the bow from his hands.
Shen She slowly lifted his gaze and gave Xue Shen a gentle smile.
“Brother,” he said softly, “everything will be all right.”
A new bow appeared between his fingers. He turned his head slightly and drew it across the strings again.
The melody resumed.
As Lin Mengzhi and Xue Shen began to lose focus, their minds drifting, Shen Ping’an acted—vines erupted from his hands, snatching away the cello and binding Shen She tightly to the staircase railing.
“Nice one, Shen Ping’an!” Du Yaoyuan shouted from the floor, clutching his neck but still managing to give a thumbs-up.
A brief expression of relief crossed Shen Ping’an’s pale face—
—but then Shen She’s teeth clamped together, and an indistinct, haunting chant escaped from between his lips.
Lin Mengzhi dropped to his knees with a thud, covering his ears.
“Ah, hell—this is even worse! I’d rather he played the cello!”
Xue Qi’s hands were tied to the doorknob, and he was banging his head against the door.
“Teacher Ying, you’ve done enough evil—damn you! Shen She, stop singing already! If you keep going, we’re done, I swear!”
Du Yaoyuan cried out in despair, “Shen Ping’an! Quick—cover his mouth!”
Shen Ping’an shook his head. “We should face death calmly.”
Lin Mengzhi: “?”
Ruan Silian stumbled out of the room, looking relatively unharmed but full of worry.
“Wu Zhi’s head hurts badly—she’s in serious condition.”
The moment she opened the door, the little girl’s shrill scream pierced everyone’s eardrums.
Du Yaoyuan clawed at his neck, which was already bleeding, gasping in pain but unable to stop.
“Ying Liuquan—I’ll kill you, you bastard—!”
Mental-type abilities. They still didn’t know if Ying Liuquan’s power truly belonged to the psychic category or some hidden offshoot of it.
He didn’t even have to appear before them, yet the damage he caused was devastating.
If Lin Mengzhi hadn’t run downstairs to warn everyone, they might have kept thinking they were just having a late-night breakdown.
Without him, none of them would have realized that it was Ying Liuquan’s awakened ability affecting their minds.
The shouting on the first floor gradually weakened.
Ruan Silian, the only one still relatively lucid, couldn’t get close to the ability users who were losing control.
She rushed back into the room, trying to soothe Ji Zhelan while comforting little Wu Zhi at the same time.
Ying Liuquan drove people to harm themselves—
but Shen She’s ability was far more direct, causing harm outwardly instead.
Dou Lu, who was already injured, bled from the corner of her mouth.
Du Yaoyuan stopped clawing at his neck and stared at the ceiling, gasping soundlessly as the suffocation made his vision darken.
Then it was Xue Qi. Then Lin Mengzhi.
Blood trickled from both their ears—they couldn’t hear a thing anymore.
Xue Shen shook his head hard and strode toward Shen She.
“Shen She, stop it—you…”
He didn’t walk toward Shen She—
He headed straight for the railing on the second floor.
The instant he fell, the ground shook as if the world were collapsing. The floor of the first level split open with a thunderous roar. Du Yaoyuan and Dou Lu were hurled backward, and a mass of vines appeared out of nowhere, coiling around Xue Shen and flinging him aside.
The vines lashed toward Shen She—dense and furious, far stronger than the ones Shen Ping’an had summoned before. Within seconds, the churning wave of green engulfed the entire house.
Shen She leapt back, retreating fast. The vines pierced the stairs and twisted around again. By the time he steadied himself, the wall behind him was already crawling with living vines, writhing and spreading.
The boy tried to dodge, but his speed was nothing compared to theirs.
One vine lashed out, hooking around his neck. It yanked him backward in an instant—his humming cut off mid-note. The vines swallowed him whole, dragging him into the green wall until he vanished.
They didn’t stop growing. Thick and thin, the vines spread like a creature long denied sunlight—wild, unstoppable.
They tore up the entire first floor, claiming it as their own. Roots burrowed into the walls, crawled across the ceiling, wrapped around the chandelier, and lashed down like whips. The few still on the ground were struck and scattered by the blows.
In less than two minutes, the entire house had become the vines’ domain. Nothing inside dared resist their will.
Ying Liuquan was bound tight, cocooned in green like a living mummy. The window burst open, and he was flung a hundred meters away.
Shen She, too, was knocked unconscious and locked inside a room.
The others slowly regained consciousness—injured, dazed.
Du Yaoyuan had it worst. He clutched his neck, blood still trickling between his fingers. Grimacing in pain, he gasped, “Since when is Ying Liuquan this strong? I didn’t have anything like that when I awakened my ability!”
Dou Lu, her ankle twisted but otherwise unharmed, was helped up by Ruan Silian.
She didn’t dare sit on the chair wrapped tightly in vines, so she simply sat on the green carpet instead.
“Good thing I’m an ability user,” she muttered. “If I weren’t, that jump from the second floor would’ve half killed me.”
Lin Mengzhi ran his hand over the vines on the floor—cold and solid, thicker and longer than before. He looked upward.
“Where’s A’Heng?”
Xie Chongyi was leaning against the second-floor railing, expression unreadable.
“No idea,” he said calmly.
“That useless brat! Always vanishing when things get bad!” Du Yaoyuan cursed under his breath, spotting Shen Ping’an nearby. “Shen Ping’an, your power’s insane—these vines can grow anywhere, hit from a distance or up close, and they even listen to you. You really struck gold with this!”
Shen Ping’an sat slumped against the wall. When Du Yaoyuan finished, he rasped out, “It’s not me.”
“What do you mean, not you?” Du Yaoyuan blinked, confused. “Then who—?”
Shen Ping’an lowered his head and stayed silent.
Then, behind Du Yaoyuan, the wall covered in vines suddenly split apart.
Before everyone’s eyes, a figure stepped out from the opening.
A boy emerged without a sound, appearing right behind Du Yaoyuan. He bent down slightly, his voice quiet and even.
“It’s me.”
Du Yaoyuan blinked, stunned—he recognized that voice instantly. Wu Heng.
But the energy coming from behind him was far stronger than anything he remembered.
Still clutching his bleeding neck, he stiffly turned around. His breath caught the moment he saw that familiar face.
His heart nearly stopped. Swallowing hard, he stammered, “W–Wu Heng?”
Wu Heng didn’t answer. He straightened slowly.
At once, all the vines in the house surged and writhed in response.
They drew inward, winding themselves into thin strands no thicker than a finger, and gently coiled around the boy’s neck—obedient, like living ornaments—while their master looked down from above at the people below.
