Eaten Ch.80

Chapter 80: Rebellion

Having discovered the cause of the guard captain’s death, Wu Heng went straight back to the hotel.

With the appearance of the mutated bamboo, no one in the base was active except the guard team. All the ability users in the guard team had been mobilized, patrolling the streets and clearing clusters of bamboo shoots.

Wu Heng appeared silently, and silently opened the luggage compartment of the bus. Meeting Chen Meng’s resentful eye, he tossed in a slab of mutated wolf meat weighing over a hundred pounds, then climbed in himself.

Inside the dark, cramped luggage compartment, the sound of zombies eating was enough to make anyone shiver. Only Wu Heng could sit calmly next to them.

Chen Meng only had the strength to tend to the patient after finishing his meal.

But he truly did not expect this time’s “patient” to be a vine.

“Accidentally got scratched,” Wu Heng said.

Chen Meng wordlessly placed his palm over the wound. The soft yellow light illuminated both the person and the corpse. As the light gradually dimmed, Chen Meng said, “You’re young. If you’re sick, see a doctor. Don’t harm your own body.”

Wu Heng didn’t reply. He walked around to the main entrance and entered the hotel, noticing that the chubby owner behind the front desk had been replaced by a man and a woman.

The couple saw him too, putting on strangely surprised faces, but Wu Heng only glanced at them before heading straight upstairs.

Lin Mengzhi still wasn’t in the room.

Wu Heng sat on the edge of the bed, paused for a few seconds, then got up and walked out.

Standing in front of Xie Chongyi and Ying Liuquan’s room, he knocked lightly twice. Receiving no response, he let vine threads slip through the door crack and pulled them back after a moment—there was no one inside the room, not even the bed had been disturbed; it remained perfectly neat.

Wu Heng lowered his gaze and stood at the door for a while.

The car was still downstairs, so they hadn’t left.

He searched room by room, and finally saw everyone in Xue Shen’s room.

Everyone was crowded together in one room, either sitting on the floor or on the bed. Hearing the door open, they all turned to look at him in unison.

“You’re back?!” Lin Mengzhi sprang up from the floor. “That fat guy said…”

Wu Heng closed the door behind him as he walked in. “I was just curious about something, that’s why I went over. It’s fine now.”

Xie Chongyi was leaning against the head of the bed. He patted the space beside him. “Sit here.”

Wu Heng glanced around the room and saw there weren’t many free spots left. He maneuvered around most of the room and sat down next to the boy.

Lin Mengzhi immediately turned to ask, “What exactly happened? Why did the base guards say you killed someone?”

Xue Qi nodded repeatedly in agreement. “And why did you come back so soon? I thought we were about to launch an exciting, high-stakes super rescue!”

Xie Chongyi raised an eyebrow. “You were looking forward to it?”

Xue Qi’s mouth opened to respond, but Xue Shen smacked him on the face with his notebook. After straightening up, he asked Wu Heng seriously, “We were talking about the mutated bamboo outside. Bamboo is definitely wood-attribute. If it can spread into the base, it’s not something to underestimate…”

Wu Heng frowned. “You’re going to help the base clear the mutated bamboo?”

“No,” Shen She replied from the side. “We want the energy cores. Right now, E- and D-level energy cores barely improve our abilities. I’ve experimented with Teacher Ying: for someone of average psychic aptitude, five hundred E-level cores or fifty D-level cores can upgrade them to D-level. But to improve further, the quality of the cores matters more than quantity. So our current plan is to collect every energy core we can find along the way—the higher the level, the better.”

“If it’s handed to us, why refuse?” Xue Qi looked up at Wu Heng.

Wu Heng remained silent, offering no comment for the moment.

Ying Liuquan interjected, “He just fought the mutated bamboo. It probably isn’t easy to deal with.”

“How do you know that, Teacher Ying?!”

“Uh…” Ying Liuquan didn’t quite know how to explain it to everyone. “It’s a feeling… from his breathing, his gaze, and even his body temperature—I could sense it.”

Ruan Silian rubbed her fingers together and spoke up to help: “That’s Teacher Ying’s ability, right? Psychics can sense others’ attitudes through their mental state—it shouldn’t be too difficult.”

“Oh my God! That means I have no secrets left!” Lin Mengzhi turned around and hugged Wu Heng’s calf, speaking in fear.

Xue Shen said, “You don’t need psychic powers to know your secrets.”

“…”

“Let’s get to the point first,” Xie Chongyi said, exhausted, tilting his head against the wall as he looked at Wu Heng’s profile. “Why did the guards say you killed someone?”

Wu Heng had been agreeing with the idea of “getting to the point,” but he didn’t expect Xie Chongyi’s “point” to be about himself.

“Just an accident,” he said, not wanting to lay his own affairs bare in front of everyone. His gaze shifted to Shen Ping’an at the back of the group. “Shen Ping’an, come out with me.”

The usually quiet Shen Ping’an froze for a moment. Half a beat later, he got to his feet and followed Wu Heng, who was already walking outside, completely baffled.

Xie Chongyi just snorted. He leaned back against the head of the bed and pulled the blanket over his head again.

Everyone else: “…”

Especially Xue Shen. Among this group, he knew Xie Chongyi better than most. They had known each other for three years. Most of the time, Xie Chongyi was easygoing, almost frustratingly gentle, but when it came to those close to him, he would throw childish tantrums.

Xue Shen couldn’t guess who might have provoked him in such a short time. He pushed up his glasses, chose to ignore it, and turned back to the previous discussion. “The mutated bamboo has appeared all over the base. The people there won’t just sit by. This is already affecting their daily life. Once they take action, we’ll…”

“Loot!” Lin Mengzhi stood up.

Xue Shen stopped him. “We’re helping our kind, minimizing losses.”

…

Outside, in the hallway.

Wu Heng stood in front of Shen Ping’an. He spread out his hand; under the dim light, his fingers took on an abnormal, ghastly pale color. With no hint of blood, they looked almost like an old, wax-white sheet of paper.

Shen Ping’an didn’t know what the other intended.

But Wu Heng hadn’t come to chat either.

He just watched as the boy’s fingers curled slightly inward. Shen Ping’an’s body trembled. A green tendril cautiously peeked out from the collar at the back of his neck. It first coiled once around the nape, its glossy, supple form almost indistinguishable from a bamboo leaf if one didn’t look carefully.

Slowly, it placed its tip into the boy’s palm.

Wu Heng closed his fingers, instantly gripping it—Poppy struggled only slightly before settling down obediently.

Time passed, second by second.

Shen Ping’an was a little taller than Wu Heng, and Wu Heng seemed to have grown since before. The half-head height difference became less noticeable, and for a moment, Shen Ping’an felt as though he was looking up at him—a terrifying sensation, because Shen Ping’an was certain he was supposed to be slightly taller. The feeling of looking up didn’t come from reality.

When Poppy touched Wu Heng, Shen Ping’an could sense a thread of attachment. But he wasn’t clear whether that attachment was to the vine itself or to Wu Heng.

Still, Shen Ping’an could be almost certain that he was being influenced by the plant.

Poppy had taken root inside his body. The plant’s loyalty and desperate desire for attention had rooted there as well.

The emotions of mutated plants were more violent and direct than those of humans. When Wu Heng had called its name just now, Shen Ping’an’s scalp had tightened instantly, and his legs nearly gave out as if he were about to kneel.

He and Wu Heng were not close. Experiencing such a surge of impulse toward him left Shen Ping’an both embarrassed and flustered, though he did not show it—and Wu Heng didn’t notice.

After a long moment, Wu Heng released his grip. The tendril retreated into the boy’s body. Shen Ping’an asked, “What were you doing just now?”

Wu Heng lowered his hand. “I wanted to know what it’s thinking right now.”

“?”

He lifted his gaze; his eyes returned to their deep black hue. “I realized earlier that plants are not very controllable. As their power increases, they may even develop the idea of rebellion.”

“Rebellion?”

“Plants don’t understand loyalty. Once self-awareness awakens, it only helps them expand their territory and obtain more nutrients.”

Shen Ping’an didn’t press for the reason. Instead, he asked, “Have you found a solution?”

“Yes.”

Shen Ping’an hadn’t expected Wu Heng to identify a problem and solve it so quickly—so quickly, in fact, that they hadn’t even reached the stage of noticing the problem themselves.

“What do we need to do?” he asked.

Wu Heng tugged at the corner of his mouth. “It’s simple—give it a good beating from time to time.”

“…” Shen Ping’an choked on the words. He hadn’t expected this to be Wu Heng’s solution. But on second thought, it made perfect sense: for a plant without human morality, the most direct and effective method was to crush it with superior strength.

“Thanks for telling me,” Shen Ping’an said in a low voice. “Otherwise, I wouldn’t have known.”

Wu Heng shook his head, indicating it was nothing.

“Shall we go in?” Shen Ping’an reached for the door.

But the door opened on its own.

Xie Chongyi stepped out, yawning. The corners of his eyes carried a faint coldness as he glanced lightly at Wu Heng. “We’re all about to sleep. You guys still not done talking?”

Shen Ping’an was used to the class monitor’s unpredictable moods. Thinking the other was simply delirious from tiredness, he said, “We just finished.”

Xie Chongyi smiled. “Coincidentally, we just finished too.”

No sooner had he spoken than Lin Mengzhi flew out and hugged Wu Heng. “A’Hhheng! Hurry, hurry, tell me about the killing! How did you come back? Let’s go to the room and talk!”

Wu Heng staggered back a couple of steps from Lin Mengzhi’s sudden pounce. After pushing him away, he looked at Xie Chongyi, who hadn’t left yet. “Class Monitor, do you want to hear it?”

Xie Chongyi dropped a casual, indifferent, “No,” and turned toward the room. His back was straight, his steps unhurried and lazy.

…

Only after realizing it had been a false alarm did Lin Mengzhi finally relax, and drowsiness quickly set in.

“This base definitely wants you to stay—after all, talent is always in demand.”

“Ugh, it’s so hot! Wu Zhi, can you come sleep on the floor in our room?!”

Wu Heng lay on the bed, already asleep, but the image of Xie Chongyi turning away after saying “no” lingered in his mind, and there was a subtle trace of loneliness as he studied the retreating figure.

Half an hour later, Wu Heng sat up, his expression blank.

Lin Mengzhi, too sensitive to heat, hadn’t used a blanket and was sprawled out, snoring, completely unaware of when his companion had left the room.

Silently, Wu Heng appeared at Xie Chongyi’s room door. Placing his fingers on the handle, a vine lifted the lock. He gently pushed the door open just a crack.

Inside were two single beds. One of them, by the window, was Ying Liuquan. Wu Heng could distinguish each person’s scent.

After closing the door, Wu Heng tiptoed to Xie Chongyi’s bed, lifted a corner of the blanket, bent down, and carefully raised Xie Chongyi’s arm before slipping in beside him.

The moment he lay down, Xie Chongyi’s arm tightened around him. Gritting his teeth, he said, “Do you think I’m dead?”

As ability users, both Xie Chongyi and Ying Liuquan had woken up silently when Wu Heng picked the lock. They hadn’t made a sound—they just wanted to see who had come.

It was one of their own.

Nestled in Xie Chongyi’s arms, Wu Heng struggled to lift his head. “Last night, in the class monitor’s room… you wanted to know why the base guards said I killed someone. I’m here to tell you the reason.”

“…”

Xie Chongyi remained silent for a long moment. Finally, he lowered his lashes, taking in Wu Heng’s innocent expression.

“Go ahead,” he said at last.

Wu Heng instinctively held Xie Chongyi’s waist as he began to speak. He hadn’t wanted to explain, but Xie Chongyi wasn’t exactly an outsider.

After all, he wouldn’t live much longer. Once he reached maturity, Xie Chongyi would be inside his belly.

Xie Chongyi twirled Wu Heng’s hair with his fingers. At first, he listened absentmindedly, but gradually he became serious, and eventually even furrowed his brows.

“You hurt it… doesn’t that affect your own body?”

Wu Heng lightly nodded. “It does, but it’s more afraid of dying than I am.”

The “death” the boy spoke of carried the most casual, nonchalant tone Xie Chongyi had ever heard.

Xie Chongyi chuckled. “You’re not afraid that, in the end, it will consume you, parasitize you, and you’ll vanish from this world?”

Wu Heng pictured the scene he described and opened his mouth. “I don’t know what fear is.”

All the cowardice of his life had been exhausted under Wu Shiming’s fists and slaps.

Xie Chongyi thought that if it were someone else, they would probably call the boy brave—a person unafraid of anything, worthy of praise for courage.

But as his fingers brushed through the boy’s hair, silky like satin, a sharp, needle-like ache spread across his fingertips. He should have pulled away, because Wu Heng—always scheming—might have been using the vine to prick him. Yet, he couldn’t resist pressing his fingers closer and, without thinking, leaned down to kiss Wu Heng on the forehead. Even he found it inexplicably strange. He didn’t feel desire for Wu Heng—only tenderness, the sudden urge to hold the boy in the palm of his hand.

Wu Heng felt the warmth on his forehead intensely. He gave Xie Chongyi a strange look. “You want to kiss me?”

“…No.”

“Then why…”

“I don’t know.”

“Oh.”

“You finished talking? Going back to sleep?” Xie Chongyi asked softly, holding Wu Heng’s arm without the slightest intention of letting go.

“Mengzhi is asleep. I don’t want to wake him,” Wu Heng replied calmly, enjoying the scent of Xie Chongyi, more and more with each passing moment.

Hearing Lin Mengzhi’s name, Xie Chongyi felt as if he were haunted.

Meanwhile, Wu Heng shifted in Xie Chongyi’s arms until he finally found the most comfortable position.

His heart raced. Ever since Xie Chongyi’s lips had brushed against his forehead, it hadn’t stopped—so fast that it made him feel suffocated and restless.

Wu Heng knew this sensation was caused by Xie Chongyi. He didn’t want to ask why—he just wanted it to end quickly.

So he wrapped his arms around Xie Chongyi’s waist, pressing his lips to the side of his neck, and sighed softly, “Class Monitor… grow up quickly.”

<< _ >>