Chapter 106: “I didn’t want to… waste food”
“It’s just a minor injury. Dr. Chen can definitely treat it,” Dou Lu said with absolute confidence.
But Wu Heng had a bad feeling. If Sheng Jiang could only cause minor injuries, then Xie Chongyi wouldn’t have needed to come and block it himself.
Wu Heng wasn’t that much weaker than Xie Chongyi—just a bit. Maybe not even a full bit. Half a bit, or perhaps one-tenth of a half.
Shen Ping’an took a cup, dampened a piece of cotton cloth, and gently moistened Xie Chongyi’s lips. “Where’s Dr. Chen?”
“I let him out. He’s in the city saving lives and treating the wounded.”
Shen Ping’an’s expression tightened. He set down the cup and the damp cloth, pondered for a moment, then said, “That might not be a good thing for him.”
At a time like this, doctors had essentially become a highly sought-after resource. The soil for cultivating doctors in any advanced, systematic way no longer existed—let alone the fact that Chen Meng possessed a direct healing ability, one that skipped the tedious treatment process altogether.
Dou Lu still couldn’t quite figure it out. What she was more curious about was Wu Heng’s space that could hold people. “When did you get that? It’s so amazing! Take it out and show us!”
Wu Heng was shaken back and forth by her. “I can’t take it out.”
Dou Lu snorted and reached out to lift the hem of Wu Heng’s short-sleeved shirt. Shen Ping’an instinctively blocked her hand. Seeing the confusion in Dou Lu’s eyes, he stiffly said, “Men and women should keep their distance.”
“But we’re all family already…” Dou Lu persisted.
Shen Ping’an repeated the words: men and women should keep their distance.
“It’s not in my clothes—it’s in my body. That’s why I can’t take it out,” Wu Heng said, pulling over a chair to sit down. He savored the phrase all family that Dou Lu had used.
Dou Lu froze for a moment, then let out a sharp scream. “That’s even better! From now on, we can stuff all our treasures inside, and we won’t have to worry about anyone stealing them!”
“We can even put A’Ruan and Xue Qi in there. Carrying them is so tiring.”
“Can you put all of us in too? I don’t want to travel anymore.”
Hearing this, Shen Ping’an cut her off. “And Wu Heng would carry all that weight?”
Dou Lu said they wouldn’t talk about that.
“How did you deal with that guy?” She circled Wu Heng once, confirming he wasn’t injured.
“Which one?”
“The mutated plant.”
“It wasn’t resolved,” Wu Heng said. “I swapped it out for a new plant.”
“A new one?” Dou Lu looked stunned. “There was a backup?”
Shen Ping’an spoke up. “It should be the part that was previously planted in my body. Same origin, same root—transplanting it wouldn’t be a problem.”
Dou Lu half understood. “But won’t that affect Wu Heng’s body? And his ability—wouldn’t that be like digging out the original plant and replanting a smaller one? The power should drop a lot, right?”
“Ability depends on the energy core.”
“Would it be the same if we planted it in me?”
“…No.” Shen Ping’an had already thought it through. It might also be because, as someone whose status was not that different from the native inhabitants, he could sense changes within his body compared to before—he had even developed a sense of crisis he’d never had in the past.
As Shen Ping’an pondered whether this sense of danger belonged to the plant or to himself, he explained to Dou Lu, “Have you ever seen a gardener prune flowers? Or bulb plants that sprout in spring and wither in autumn? Even if all the visible stems and leaves are cut away, it won’t affect their second growth.”
Dou Lu looked thoughtful. She slapped her fist into her palm. “So doesn’t that mean it’s basically immortal?”
“…It’s not actually a bulb plant that multiplies endlessly—one becoming two, two becoming hundreds or thousands. The plant’s root system only survives inside Wu Heng’s body. If he dies, then whether it’s me or anyone else who might later be grafted onto it as a host, we’ll all die. It’s just that, for a plant, withering might be a more appropriate term.”
Dou Lu made a gesture to show she understood. “But I still have a question. The awakening of mutated animals and plants relies on their own consciousness. Now that the previous plant consciousness is gone, why does the mutated plant still exist?”
“Consciousness can transform. That’s why, in essence, the plant is still the same plant,” Shen Ping’an said.
“Hah—why is it still that thing?” Dou Lu shuddered at the memory of being dragged away before; even after working together for so long, it had turned hostile without the slightest hesitation. “It’s really awful!”
Wu Heng’s thoughts were tethered to Xie Chongyi. Seeing that the other two had finally finished their discussion, he spoke up, “About when will the class monitor wake up?”
“Can he even wake up?” Dou Lu asked uncertainly, touching the steel helmet on her head.
Wu Heng looked over at Dou Lu in confusion, his gaze darkening unconsciously.
Realizing she’d spoken too fast and said the wrong thing, Dou Lu pointed toward the door. “Since you’re here, you can keep watch. I’ll go out and help.”
“Then I’ll go too. We don’t need so many people here,” Shen Ping’an said after taking several big gulps of water. He looked at Wu Heng. “If you need anything, just… call me.” He tapped his chest.
Wu Heng sat there blankly. “Then that counts as an order.”
The boy shook his head. “I don’t mind.”
Wu Heng didn’t respond. His mood was low; how long Shen Ping’an looked at him, or when he left, he had no idea.
The door closed, cutting off for the moment the clangor of battle outside. In this small room, Xie Chongyi remained unconscious. Wu Heng drifted into thought, sorrowfully scrutinizing the man lying on the bed—someone he had long since decided belonged to him.
Though he didn’t wish that the injury had been his instead, the pain was no less for that.
The youth stood up and strode to the bedside. Lowering his eyes, his mind in chaos and his heart aching as if cut by a blade.
A chill crept slowly up his spine to the back of his head, spreading to every limb. Wu Heng suddenly relaxed his clenched teeth; a strange heat welled in his eyes—the urge to cry.
He crouched down and once again gently lifted Xie Chongyi’s stray bangs with his fingers. His earlier look had been too hasty; only now did he see clearly that the flesh on this side of Xie Chongyi’s face had been burned black, while the intact parts were ashen white like wall dust. The boundary between them was as stark and brutal as lava colliding with a snow-capped mountain.
“Class Monitor?” He nudged Xie Chongyi’s shoulder, but there was no sign of him waking.
Afraid both that he might die and that the injuries might spread, Wu Heng sat cross-legged on the floor, resting his chin against the edge of the bed. His gaze lingered on every inch of Xie Chongyi’s body, unblinking.
The room was utterly silent.
Calm yet resolute, Wu Heng took Xie Chongyi’s hand. Xie Chongyi’s hand was a little larger than his, the knuckles more pronounced, and its temperature had already dropped to nearly the same as his own.
He lifted Xie Chongyi’s wrist to his lips. He already had a plan in his heart, but his face revealed nothing.
In an exceptionally brief span of time, Wu Heng replayed his entire acquaintance with Xie Chongyi from beginning to end—though perhaps there had never truly been understanding. Rather than understanding, the two of them had only ever tested and second-guessed each other.
Had Xie Chongyi ever tried to understand him, even a little?
It was then that the youth realized something especially terrifying: he had developed feelings for his food.
But gluttony had always been thus.
Those who feel nothing for their food are unworthy of consuming it.
Wu Heng’s thoughts churned endlessly. Once he felt a little more at ease, he pressed close to Xie Chongyi’s wrist and murmured softly, “Class Monitor, it won’t hurt much. I’ll try to eat quickly.”
“Besides, you’re unconscious right now. You probably won’t feel any pain anyway.”
After removing every point of concern, a light, buoyant joy rose in his heart. Though he hadn’t provided his food with a beautiful, comfortable setting befitting its flavor, the solemn sincerity of his good mood was the same.
He felt that once he finished eating, he would turn into a balloon, float up into the air, and burst with a pop—streams of celebratory ribbons scattering everywhere. Xie Chongyi deserved the grandest celebration of all.
Wu Heng didn’t want to eat using vines, nor did he want to tear Xie Chongyi apart before eating him. He wanted to eat from the outside inward, bit by bit, so that until the very last second before complete disappearance, the other would remain neat and intact—this was the bare minimum of respect owed to food.
Even so, the thought that the class monitor would vanish from this world still stirred a sense of regret and tenderness in his heart.
But if he were to simply let him die and rot, then he would be unforgivable as well.
Before Xie Chongyi died, it was better to eat him in advance.
With his other hand, Wu Heng smoothed the bedsheet beneath the boy, pressed his thumb to the strongest pulse, opened his mouth, and brought his teeth down.
He kept staring at Xie Chongyi, both expecting and not expecting him to open his eyes.
Before his teeth pierced the skin, the boy’s eyelids didn’t even twitch. Wu Heng couldn’t say he wasn’t disappointed.
Before the meal, he truly wished he could have had a proper farewell with Xie Chongyi—one filled with laughter and cheer.
He applied a little pressure with his jaws. His teeth easily punctured the thinner skin of the wrist, and the hot rush he had fantasized about even in his dreams burst forth, flooding his mouth.
The taste was faintly sweet. The warm fragrance of blood forcefully filled the boy’s breath. He switched to holding Xie Chongyi’s wrist with both hands, sucking desperately, using all his strength just to keep himself from being so rough as to bite straight through the wrist.
Wu Heng buried his head; the gray-green in his pupils flickered in and out of view. He had clearly already eaten once, yet the moment his tongue tasted the fresh sweetness of Xie Chongyi’s blood, his reason teetered on the brink of collapse.
He almost swallowed half of Xie Chongyi’s wrist into his mouth. His usually pale pink lips had turned vividly red, and fresh blood streamed down his chin.
The youth looked exactly like a newborn little vampire.
Xie Chongyi, who had half-opened his eyes, watched this scene enter his vision and thought so.
“Wu Heng, don’t eat everything.”
Wu Heng’s spine went rigid. His eyes had never been as wide as they were now; his pupils trembled uncontrollably. He lifted his gaze in shock—at some point, the boy on the bed had opened his eyes and was looking straight at him.
When had he woken up? Wu Heng had been completely unaware. It was all Xie Chongyi’s fault—his taste was too good, and Wu Heng had become obsessed.
Xie Chongyi propped himself up and reached a hand toward Wu Heng.
Wu Heng instinctively retreated.
The boy narrowed his eyes dangerously. His complexion was terrible, and he didn’t have much patience left. He directly grabbed Wu Heng by the chin. “Spit it out.”
Wu Heng tilted his head back, clenching his teeth harder than ever before.
Xie Chongyi tightened his grip even more, then brought his index and middle fingers together and pried Wu Heng’s mouth open.
As soon as his fingers touched Wu Heng’s tongue, the vines behind Wu Heng shot up from the ground—the youth was trying to attack Xie Chongyi and, going all the way, kill him outright.
Xie Chongyi ignored it completely, his fingers continuing to probe deeper.
The vines tore through the air and stabbed down.
At the critical instant, the arrow-like vines suddenly went limp. When they collapsed, they smashed the tables and chairs in the room, sending them tumbling across the floor.
Wu Heng’s cross-legged body on the ground jerked involuntarily. He frowned and bit down on Xie Chongyi’s fingers, then hesitated again. He looked up at Xie Chongyi with a puzzled gaze, but before he could voice the question, a surge of heat roiled up from his abdomen along his esophagus.
“Ugh—”
Black-red blood poured from the youth’s mouth like a flood, dyeing Xie Chongyi’s entire hand red.
Wu Heng’s chin rested in Xie Chongyi’s palm. He looked at him in a daze; the intense pain in his abdomen robbed him of expression. He didn’t understand what was happening.
“The food is poisonous,” he said indistinctly, then spat another mouthful of jelly-like black-red blood into the boy’s palm.
And the vines behind him, which he hadn’t had time to retract, began to blacken at the roots.
Xie Chongyi rolled off the bed and knelt beside Wu Heng, one hand supporting Wu Heng’s chin, the other pressing against his faintly trembling back. He said gently, “Keep vomiting. Get the rest out.”
Pain had already brought tears to the corners of Wu Heng’s eyes. Obediently, he bent forward and let Xie Chongyi’s fingers slip into his mouth.
He felt his epiglottis being pressed—gentle yet firm—by Xie Chongyi. His vision darkened as pain and nausea surged together. He curled into Xie Chongyi’s arms and vomited several more times in succession, blood spattering his knees and the floor.
“Why would it…” Wu Heng pressed his fingers into the pool of blood. He couldn’t believe he had swallowed so much of Xie Chongyi’s blood.
Xie Chongyi’s voice was icy. “Because most of it is your own tissue—more than just blood.”
Wu Heng knitted his brows, about to speak, when another soft, unidentifiable mass squeezed out of his throat.
If it was his own—
The youth panicked, fumbling to pick it up, clutching it as he tried to stuff it back into his mouth.
“Wu Heng, if you keep eating random things, I won’t care about you anymore,” Xie Chongyi said. He didn’t reach out to stop him—he merely reminded him, calm and unruffled.
Wu Heng’s eyelids were stained red. Cradling a lump of bright scarlet flesh, he looked at Xie Chongyi in confusion.
“Are you threatening me?”
“No. A threat is when I need you to do something,” Xie Chongyi shook his head. “I’m just informing you that I will do something. What you do is up to you.”
Wu Heng closed his eyes. The beads of blood clinging to his lashes fell.
Suddenly, taking advantage of Xie Chongyi’s lack of guard, he sprang up and pounced on him.
Xie Chongyi had only just woken up and was easily knocked over. Something rank and sickeningly sweet was shoved into his mouth without warning.
Eyes open, he looked at the youth kneeling over him. Afraid that he might vomit it out, he found that the other’s hand was firmly covering his mouth, refusing to move away.
Xie Chongyi calmly met Wu Heng’s gaze. The thing in his mouth barely needed chewing; his throat worked, and he swallowed it.
Wu Heng’s eyes flickered, a sense of comfort settling in his heart. Only then did he remove his hand.
“Can’t let it go to waste,” he said softly, sitting astride Xie Chongyi’s waist.
But Xie Chongyi suddenly sat up. His blood-smeared hand restrained the back of Wu Heng’s head from behind, and his features—along with the half of his face that had been destroyed—loomed large in Wu Heng’s vision.
The same taste passed between their mouths, mingling and intertwining. They were almost soaked in blood, the air thick with its scent.
The plant’s self-healing ability allowed Wu Heng to recover slowly, but the pain remained. He and Xie Chongyi were equally weak, yet when they kissed, both used a ferocity as if they wanted to devour the other whole.
Xie Chongyi’s icy palm pressed against Wu Heng’s soft waist and abdomen. Panting, his nose brushing Wu Heng’s bridge, a dark shadow beneath his lashes, he said, “When we’ve both rested up, we’ll settle today’s account.”
His hand slid down, loosely encircling Wu Heng’s throat. He lowered his eyes and stared unblinking at that infuriating face.
He knew Wu Heng didn’t have much of a conscience. Even if what he did happened to meet the standards of having one, the motive wasn’t necessarily conscience at all—often, it was precisely the opposite.
But they had done things together—like kissing. He had thought he was special. Even if the other might not have liked men before, that didn’t mean he wouldn’t like him now.
Yet Wu Heng had taken advantage of him while he was unconscious.
He had already been watching Wu Heng for a long time back then. In Wu Heng’s eyes, he had seen no hesitation or reluctance at all—only the exhilaration and delight of feeding.
What did Wu Heng take him for? A massager? Then what had all those things from before amounted to?
Wu Heng’s slightly prominent Adam’s apple was pressed down, the pressure bearing on his windpipe and causing discomfort, though not enough to suffocate him.
“What account is there to settle?” Wu Heng realized he could still speak normally, and so he tried to justify himself. Had he really done something wrong?
Xie Chongyi leaned his body toward Wu Heng, the corner of his mouth lifting as he sneered, “You were eating me, and you don’t know?”
Wu Heng studied the boy’s expression. He was still smiling, but with his face covered in blood and wounds, it was impossible to relax—let alone when the other was already on the verge of losing control. So Wu Heng gently grasped Xie Chongyi’s wrists with both hands. “You were hurt. I was very worried. I was afraid you’d die. I didn’t want to… waste food.”
“Quibbling,” Xie Chongyi said lightly, unconvinced. “Wasn’t I still breathing?”
“If you eat it after death, the taste is a bit worse,” Wu Heng said sincerely.
Seeing a bead of blood slide down Wu Heng’s cheek, Xie Chongyi tilted his head and licked it away. After rolling the blood into his mouth and swallowing, he asked with a smile, “Then since I’m not dead right now—what do you think about the fact that the duck that was already at your mouth flew away?”
Wu Heng pondered for a moment. He lifted his eyes and said hesitantly, “Class Monitor, you not being dead… that’s really great.”