Eaten Ch.69.1

Chapter 69.1: “She came to find you too?”

“Wait, let me wipe my hands.”

Wu Heng used the damp towel by the bedside to clean his hands, then shooed X out of the room. He sat in Xie Chongyi’s embrace, his icy palms pressed against Xie Chongyi’s chest. “How do I help?”

Xie Chongyi lowered his eyelids, his gaze and shoulders enveloping Wu Heng’s body.

Xie Chongyi guided Wu Heng’s hand down his fly. When their skin touched without barrier, Wu Heng—whose body temperature ran low—instinctively flinched at the heat. Xie Chongyi held his wrist firmly in place.

“How?” Though Wu Heng’s fingers were long, one hand couldn’t grasp the entire length. He placed his other hand over Xie Chongyi’s.

“Just do to me what I did for you before.” Xie Chongyi’s fingers traced Wu Heng’s neckline.

Wu Heng treated this as food offered on a platter. He wasn’t hungry, but he wouldn’t pass up food presented right to his mouth.

He recalled the images of Xie Chongyi assisting him and the movements of the person in those scenes. He performed the task earnestly, his expression serious.

Xie Chongyi wrapped his arms around his waist, resting his chin on his shoulder. The proximity allowed him to see the soft, fine hairs on the other’s neck. Xie Chongyi exhaled hot breath, lifting his gaze. Wu Heng’s hair grew faster than either of theirs, two strands draping over his earlobes.

Wu Heng’s fingers had been cool, but they warmed under the touch. He felt the object in his hand grow thicker than before—significantly thicker and longer than his own. Yet by Wu Heng’s standards, it wasn’t particularly beautiful. He preferred delicate, refined features—like his own. Still, Xie Chongyi’s wasn’t ugly either.

Drops of moisture beaded at its tip, occasionally brushing against Wu Heng’s lower abdomen. Though not beautiful, it possessed a palpable aggressiveness. Wu Heng could feel the subtle yet powerful throbbing beneath his palm, the scorching blood surging faster with each stroke of his hand.

 A faint, warm, meaty scent lingered in the room—barely perceptible, yet Wu Heng’s keen sense of smell detected it.

He couldn’t help wondering: Does it taste good?

“My hands are tired. I’ll rest a moment,” Wu Heng said, releasing his grip instantly. He sat upright, his expression serene.

Xie Chongyi made no move to urge him on. He was lost in contemplation of his own feelings toward Wu Heng—the thrill of exploring the unknown far surpassed any physical pleasure.

“Wu Heng.”

Wu Heng’s slender lashes fluttered like two dense fans, revealing eyes where black met white.

“Hmm?”

“Want to kiss?” Xie Chongyi leaned closer, murmuring softly as he gazed into those eyes.

Wu Heng met his gaze. Observing only the upper half of Xie Chongyi’s face, he thought the man resembled a fox. He recalled how foxes were often associated with evil or seduction—how scholars traveling to the capital for exams would encounter bewitchingly beautiful women in wild ruins, only to be drained of their essence and left exposed in the wilderness after a single night.

From then on, those ruins became forbidden ground in the tales of nearby towns and villages. Yet despite all precautions, young men would still venture there in search of the legendary fox spirit’s beauty. The sensible villagers claimed the fox spirit had cast a spell on their village, bewitching the youths’ minds. But they never considered that the fox spirit might already lurk among them—perhaps as a young wife washing clothes by the river, or a teacher wielding a ruler. It could take the form of anyone.

Wu Heng plunged into a prolonged delusion, even suspecting Xie Chongyi himself might be the fox spirit. In this chaotic, alien world, such a possibility could not be ruled out.

Though Xie Chongyi possessed not a shred of the fox spirit’s seductive charm.

Yet Wu Heng sensed a temptation and allure more potent and irresistible than any fox spirit’s wiles.

Wu Heng felt sweat forming on his palms—hot sweat. He wiped his palms twice on his thigh, a swallow escaping his throat.

A restlessness deeper than hunger and a palpable tremor erupted from the depths of his body, an unbearable clamor. Xie Chongyi’s invitation was harder to refuse than a plate of blood-dripping raw meat.

“Kissing—is that just touching lips?” Wu Heng’s gaze slowly drifted from Xie Chongyi’s eyes down to his lips, afraid he might bite them off and devour them whole.

Before Xie Chongyi could nod, Wu Heng tilted his neck forward and pressed his lips against Xie Chongyi’s—only to pull away instantly.

“Like this?”

Wu Heng, who had taken the initiative, saw a distinct flicker of surprise on Xie Chongyi’s face. Yet the next second, Xie Chongyi’s arms wrapped around his neck, and scorching lips sealed his mouth with perfect precision.

Wu Heng thought it would be just a brief press. He kept his eyes open.

But it wasn’t. A soft warmth spread between their lips. Xie Chongyi sucked on Wu Heng’s lower lip, his tongue slowly tracing the contours until a faint, secretive wet sound escaped.

Wu Heng couldn’t breathe. He held his breath the entire time. When it grew difficult, he pushed against Xie Chongyi’s shoulder, but Xie Chongyi grabbed his wrist and pulled him down.

Xie Chongyi’s kiss grew fierce. He licked, bit, and sucked at Wu Heng’s upper and lower lips until they visibly swelled. His other hand gripped Wu Heng’s neck, forcing his face fully upward. Yet at that moment, Xie Chongyi pulled back half an inch.

“Feels good?”

Wu Heng’s mind was hazy, but he knew exactly how he felt. He licked his lips. “Good.”

Xie Chongyi made him open his mouth.

Wu Heng parted his lips slightly, his tongue resting calmly behind his teeth. From this angle, even the faintest crease of his throat was visible.

Xie Chongyi cradled the back of Wu Heng’s head, tilting his own to kiss him deeper. When their tongues touched, both bodies trembled softly.

Throughout the process, Xie Chongyi kept his eyes half-open. His gaze was clearer than Wu Heng’s. Wu Heng focused more on his own sensations than on emotions, like a perpetually hungry fish that would snap at any bait offered. Yet he wasn’t a docile fish—if the angler on shore tried to reel him in, he’d drag them underwater and drown them.

Wu Heng’s jaws opened completely, his tongue licked and sucked from tip to root. He abandoned trying to support himself, leaning against Xie Chongyi’s shoulder. His jaw ached, his wrists throbbing even more intensely.

Did Xie Chongyi’s hands ache like this when he helped him?

Something released the pressure in his hand, in several stages.

After massaging Wu Heng’s wrists twice, Xie Chongyi gently pinched his neck, gaining complete control over him. His kisses grew deeper and more forceful.

When given the chance to enjoy, Wu Heng would never let himself be wronged. Xie Chongyi’s kisses felt so good that even his hair lay soft and compliant. Yet gradually, Xie Chongyi nearly robbed him of his right to breathe.

The sensation of being plundered and violated jolted clarity back into Wu Heng’s eyes. He tilted his head back, then swiftly turned it away as he scrambled off the bed. “That’s enough.” With that, he hastily wiped his hands on a towel, grabbed the dried meat strips from the cabinet, and walked out of the room.

Xie Chongyi froze for a moment before methodically zipping up his pants.

He thought, a faint, mocking smile playing on his lips, so this is what it feels like to be ruthlessly discarded by a man—not even given the courtesy of keeping your pants on.

—

Zhang Jinnan had seen Li Qiong’s death with his own eyes, but he couldn’t make sense of it. It was just getting caught stealing—he’d stolen before, and it wasn’t the first time he’d been caught. Why didn’t he just beg and ask to be let go? What was the point of killing himself?

But when he brought the news of “Li Qiong killed himself” to Huang Yu and Zhang Jinya, the two of them seemed to understand it far better than he did.

“That’s just the kind of person Li Qiong was. When we robbed others, he thought it was a sin; when others robbed us, he also thought it was a sin. He was a modern person still living in the peaceful era. He was destined to kill himself—it was only a matter of time.”

“Better to die early and be freed,” Zhang Jinya said as she put on her coat, preparing to go out.

Zhang Jinnan immediately stopped her. “Bring back more food.”

Zhang Jinya paused mid-step, standing at the doorway. “They only give me one portion. I can’t bring more—they’re watching.”

“So f*cking stingy. With that pile of meat, as if they can finish it all?” Zhang Jinnan cursed and smashed things around for a while. Then he quickly rushed to the door, grabbed Zhang Jinya’s arm, and stared her down. “You’ve cooked for them for days. You should’ve figured out who’s in charge among them.”

“The one leading them—is it a man or a woman?”

Zhang Jinya’s body trembled, her eyes widening. “Brother, what do you mean?”

“I’m asking you—man or woman?” Zhang Jinnan’s long-uncut nails dug into her flesh.

Whether it was fear, anger, or pain, Zhang Jinya shook harder and harder.

“…A woman.”

Zhang Jinnan twisted his mouth into a grin. “You’re lying. A woman could control an ability-user that powerful?”

He still remembered the boy he’d first seen—the one who handled plants so skillfully. He slowly released his sister’s arm, slid his fingers through her hair, and leaned close to her ear. “Neither of us siblings has an ability. Huang Yu’s contraction ability doesn’t amount to much. We need someone powerful behind us if we want to survive the apocalypse. You’ve seen on the road what happens to pretty women without abilities. At least those students still act like human beings. You wouldn’t be suffering, and this isn’t just for us—it’s for you, too.”

By the end, Zhang Jinya’s expression had gone dull. The color drained from her face. She shot Zhang Jinnan a complicated look and shoved him away hard. “I know. You don’t need to say it.”

Today she had made a big pot of tender meat soup for everyone—the meat was from a muntjac, paired with crisp, sweet wild vegetable roots.

Wu Heng didn’t like talking while eating, but he listened seriously to everything the others said.

Lin Mengzhi: “Do you think I’ve evolved to grade A by now?”

Xue Shen: “D to B.”

Dou Lu was someone with self-awareness. “I’m probably a C.”

Xue Shen: “D to A.”

Ying Liuquan: “How are you judging this?”

Xue Shen: “Back in school, it was usually the teachers who graded assignments.”

“……”

Almost everyone could hear the layer of cold sarcasm in Xue Shen’s tone—everyone except for Lin Mengzhi, who was hugging his bowl and chopsticks. “Haha! I knew you were talking nonsense. You’re changing the subject because you’ve got no answer, right?”

Several people looked at Lin Mengzhi with eyes full of pity.

Wu Heng glanced at Lin Mengzhi. “Focus on eating.”

Halfway full, Dou Lu chewed on her chopsticks and hesitantly spoke. “Today on the mountain, I felt the magnetic field around us starting to shift. The change is slight, but… I think winter might be ending.”

Xue Qi: “Doesn’t that mean spring is coming?”

“Not necessarily,” Dou Lu hesitated because she wasn’t sure whether the next season would actually be spring. “It could also be summer. Or autumn.”

“Huh?”

Xue Shen put some food into Xue Qi’s and Shen She’s bowls. “If soldiers come, Old Xie will block them; if water floods in, Wu Heng will hold it back. Don’t overthink it.”

After a brief silence, Wu Heng and Xie Chongyi set down their bowls and chopsticks at the same time. Xue Shen’s words had disgusted them enough to kill their appetite. “We’re full, we’re sleeping, see you tomorrow,” the two said in unison.

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