Chapter 122: Reunion
When Wu Heng turned around, there was nothing behind him—only waves of heat rising and curling before his eyes.
The wind carried the warmth straight to his face. His eye sockets grew hot and misted over. He realized he was missing someone—he was sure it was missing, whether because of appetite or something else. It wasn’t desire. It was longing.
Desire was wanting to obtain. Longing was… what was that person doing right now? Had he eaten?
Above Yunling, the wind wailed.
‘Jingzhou was so far away,’ Wu Heng thought.
“Did you find anything?” Shen Ping’an asked as he stepped out of the tent.
“Nothing,” Wu Heng coughed twice. “The temperature’s going to drop, but not to the point of snow.”
Around the moon, dark clouds piled upon one another, enormous like mountains of cotton, standing row after row over the pasture. Something seemed to be hiding within the clouds—a terrifying giant beast, breathing, moving.
Shen Ping’an said, “It is colder than before. Good thing Ruan Silian prepared jackets in advance. No matter what, it’s better than extreme heat.”
Wu Heng nodded at first, then felt an itch around his ankle. He lowered his head and saw that the grass which had been cut not long ago—left only half an inch high—had already sprouted tender shoots taller than his ankles.
He looked farther into the distance. The young shoots spread out in dense patches.
The growth rate had increased.
“Shen Ping’an,” he murmured. “Spring has arrived.”
Shen Ping’an froze. Before he could fully process it, a muffled peal of thunder suddenly rolled overhead.
Ruan Silian also came out of the tent. Lin Mengzhi, meanwhile, was sprawled across the back of Shukui, who had consciously enlarged its body, and was carried out that way.
“It’s so cool outside! Come on, Shukui—take your old man for a run!” Lin Mengzhi hugged the greyhound’s neck, and man and dog shot off like the wind.
The muffled thunder continued, accompanied by lightning. Blue-white bolts lit up the vast layers of dark clouds above, the lightning slithering through them like a swarm of snakes.
Boom—
Drip.
A drop of water slid down onto Wu Heng’s nose.
Shen Ping’an saw it and reacted instantly. “It’s probably going to be a rainstorm. I’ll move the car next to the tent—the tent may need reinforcing again.”
Hearing this, Ruan Silian also turned away. “I’ll go pack up the things inside the tent.”
The two had barely walked off when the rain came pouring down in a torrential sheet. Dark clouds pressed low overhead; lightning flashed and thunder roared. The ink-green pasture surged and heaved like waves at sea. As soon as the rain fell, water vapor churned violently, and from a distance everything looked a vast expanse of white haze.
Wu Heng raised his hand to catch the icy rain. The water pooled in his palm; once it filled, it streamed down between his fingers in little columns. The flower bud above his head lost its support—its stem straightened, and the bud opened slightly, revealing a hint of dark-colored petals within.
On the ground, the grassland where tender shoots had just emerged was pushed up whole, roots and all. Poppies thrust up one after another. They were slender and upright, far less seductive than vines, their needle-shaped leaves lush and verdant.
Nearby grasses were beaten flat by wind and rain, collapsing in all directions, then—strangely—twisting and knotting together. Wu Heng stared at them unblinkingly until they suddenly shot upward, forming a sturdy, seamless shelter overhead to keep out the rain.
The wood element was far more useful than Wu Heng had imagined. Not only could it manipulate plants other than the poppies, it could also feed energy back into the poppies, allowing them to grow and evolve faster and more ferociously. Likewise, the poppies could in turn nourish the wood element.
The light element didn’t have as strong a presence as the wood element, and its offensive power was much weaker, but in Wu Heng’s view, that was nothing more than its factory default settings. How to use it—that was up to him.
“What are you looking at?” Sensing the gaze behind him, Wu Heng withdrew his hand and flicked the water from his palm.
Meisida shook his head. “How old are you? I’m twenty-six. Before the apocalypse, I ran a dessert shop.”
“Eighteen,” he replied. “Still hadn’t graduated from high school.”
“Have you always been this strong—this… unafraid of death?”
Since the apocalypse began, Meisida had never encountered anyone this formidable. And more shocking than the strength was the other’s fearlessness in the face of death. This fearlessness wasn’t the kind you arrive at after writing a hundred-thousand-word thesis using life and death as your premise; it was the kind that simply didn’t take death seriously at all.
But that wasn’t normal. Ever since the end of the world arrived, fear had taken root and sprouted in everyone’s heart—even the most powerful ability users were no exception.
And the person before him was just a high school student.
He didn’t even look particularly special—just a bit better-looking than most people, nothing more.
“Death?” Wu Heng turned to look at the man older than himself. “If you’d often been beaten to the point of being infinitely close to death before, you’d be familiar with the feeling death brings. You’d realize that death is closer to us than life. There’s nothing to be afraid of.”
Meisida felt ashamed.
“But being afraid of death is normal,” Wu Heng lowered his head, raindrops dripping from his lashes one by one. “If I were very happy, I might be afraid too.”
The rain grew even heavier than before. The jeep was parked under the rain shelter formed by plants. Lin Mengzhi did a bit of cleanup on the pooled water on the ground. Everyone sat together in the warm, dry tent. Meisida asked Wu Heng for a pile of tools, saying he wanted to make some small snacks for everyone to drink.
“I’ll give you haircuts,” Shen Ping’an said, rummaging through his bag and pulling out his scissors. “A set of scissors and comb I specially bought in Liuying.”
Wu Heng leaned in a corner, wrapped in a blanket. X lay beside him, sprawled out on its back in deep sleep. The greyhound was much more clingy and restless—it rested its chin on Wu Heng’s knee, its sleeping posture extremely odd.
Lin Mengzhi wasn’t interested in the snacks. He told Shen Ping’an to hurry up and finish dyeing the part of his hair that hadn’t been done yet.
“Didn’t you run into any teams trying to rob your supplies along the way? And you’re carrying so much stuff,” Meisida asked, pouring a bag of flour into a basin, slowly adding water, slowly kneading the dough.
“Seems like we did, I guess. But they couldn’t beat us,” Lin Mengzhi said.
“Then where are you planning to go next?”
“We haven’t decided yet. We’ll just take it slow. Things are pretty fun right now.”
Wu Heng listened to them talking as his body gradually slid down. A double wave of exhaustion—physical and mental—washed over him. Sandwiched between a dog and a bird, he closed his eyes and fell fast asleep.
—
When Wu Heng opened his eyes again, he didn’t know what time it was. The rain outside had already grown lighter.
He stared blankly for a moment, then his eyes suddenly narrowed.
It wasn’t that the rain had eased—there were sounds from other creatures that were drowning it out.
A small battery-powered night lamp still hung inside the tent. Visibility was low, but he could vaguely make out the way out. Everyone else was sleeping deeply.
Wu Heng grabbed his jacket, sat up, and slipped it on—only to meet two pairs of eyes as sharp as laser beams, one dog and one bird.
“…”
Ruan Silian had been startled awake as well.
“I’m going out,” Wu Heng said. “Bathroom break.” He lifted the blanket and walked out of the tent. X and Shukui immediately followed him; Shukui even jumped up to bite at the corner of Wu Heng’s clothes, hopping along and sticking close to him.
Outside the tent, everything was quiet. He still had to leave this rain shelter before he would be fully under the open sky.
In the distance, beneath the clouds, birdlike shapes were steadily approaching, descending.
Below them, the pasture rippled into endless waves under the turbulence of the airflow. The closer they came, the stronger the wind grew, and the louder the noise.
Wu Heng held up a leaf to shield his head from the rain. He tilted his head back and looked at what had already arrived before him—
an aircraft.
With a clatter, the hatch suddenly opened.
A person in combat gear, wearing a mask and goggles, leaned her upper body out and looked down. She waved her arms vigorously. “Wu Heng!!!”
Dou Lu.
“This is my first mission ever! Super easy—just to come find you! Are you doing okay?!!” Dou Lu had originally thought that going their separate ways wasn’t a big deal—like filling out college entrance exam preferences. After all, it was impossible for everyone to choose the same university, right?
But this time, not long after they parted, when she looked down and saw Wu Heng and X, her heart swelled and burned with warmth. She still hoped that everyone could stay together forever—and she had forgiven Ruan Silian too. After all, this wasn’t the college entrance exam, choosing universities.
Wu Heng let out a soft breath of relief. The corner of his mouth lifted as he was just about to respond.
But in less than a moment, a chill crept up behind him. A faint rustling sound drew close. The greyhound spun around and barked viciously at what was behind them.
The greyhound’s body was sent flying—flung far away—yet it landed lightly on the ground.
X spread its wings. It only spread its wings. It couldn’t bring itself to attack an ability user it couldn’t defeat.
It tried instead to intimidate the opponent with sheer presence, to force them back.
What came next was for Wu Heng.
Before Wu Heng could move, an arm snaked around from behind and clamped down across his throat.
The young man was dressed in black combat gear, raindrops rolling off the fabric, his aura dangerous and oppressive. Behind the mask, his lips curved faintly upward as he pulled the taut body into his embrace and lowered his gaze.
“On suspicion of stealing state property,” he said calmly, “I now announce your arrest, Wu Heng.”
‘The second time already,’ Wu Heng thought.
The boy slowly raised his hand, suddenly yanking the other man’s wrist down, then turned and struck his shoulder with a palm. Both of them were forced back dozens of steps at the same time.
Xie Chongyi’s lashes were damp. Smiling, he looked at Wu Heng and lifted a hand to pull down his goggles, his figure blinking toward Wu Heng in an instant.
“The suspect is exhibiting resistance and attacking behavior. Execution on the spot.”
His face appeared right before Wu Heng. A glacial, icy aura surged forward, biting cold. He reached out and clamped an arm tightly around Wu Heng’s waist.
“Your willingness to use any means necessary—does that include sacrificing yourself too?”
Wu Heng’s gaze shifted from helplessness to calm. Rain streamed down his face in rivulets.
Behind Xie Chongyi, the pasture howled, surging toward him like a swarm.
The two were once again forced far apart.
Wood element awakened, Xie Chongyi thought as he took in the scene. He spun around, utterly ruthless, and crushed everything above ground across the entire pasture.
Amid the storm of shattered leaves swirling through the air, Wu Heng was yanked in front of him. With a smile that wasn’t quite a smile, he said, “Do you think that if you died, I’d build you a grave and come burn three sticks of incense for you every year?”
He paused, then contradicted himself, shaking his head slightly as he leaned back. “No, that’s not right. Wu Heng—if you had died last night, I would have torn you to pieces.”
Wu Heng’s face was deathly pale. In the sudden flash of lightning, his features were brilliantly sharp one moment, then sunken and bleak the next.
Xie Chongyi gripped his wrist tightly. Wu Heng frowned and struggled, saying, “Class Monitor, that hurts.”
Xie Chongyi instinctively loosened his grip.
The very next second, Wu Heng suddenly doubled over. Xie Chongyi thought he was throwing himself into his arms and reached out—only for Wu Heng to seize his arm, and then a mouthful of fresh blood sprayed straight out of Wu Heng’s mouth.
Xie Chongyi flipped up his goggles, his gaze trembling. “Wu Heng?”
Wu Heng lifted his eyes, displeasure flickering in them. His tone carried a petulance he had never shown before. “It’s all your fault.”
—
There were too many people to stay inside the tent, so everyone moved together to set up under the rain shelter. Lin Mengzhi built a large bonfire, its flames lighting up everyone’s faces.
At first, no one spoke. Even Dou Lu, usually the chattiest, felt awkward and uneasy upon seeing Ruan Silian for the first time. She sat the farthest away, not making a sound.
Lin Mengzhi, leaning on the crude crutch Shen Ping’an had made for him, hopped around until he reached Xue Shen’s side. “Hey, why didn’t Xue Qi come? If Xue Qi were here, the two of us could keep each other company—two crippled guys.”
After all that commotion, no one spoke again.
Doctor Chen finished examining Wu Heng. Not knowing who to address as the family, he could only look toward Lin Mengzhi—only to have Xie Chongyi grab his neck and turn him to face himself. “Tsk. Talk.”
“The patient currently has three forces inside his body in the process of fusion—basically an adjustment phase. This process isn’t something an ordinary person can withstand. Just two forces alone could cause someone to explode and die on the spot. He has three.”
“From the moment those three forces entered his body, he probably hasn’t had a single second without excruciating pain,” the doctor continued. “Switch him out with anyone else, and they might not even make it to the point of their body exploding—they’d be in so much pain they’d die from that alone.
The situation right now is this: as long as there’s even the slightest external stimulus, all three forces will be jolted. And every jolt is a heavy blow to his body. That’s not even mentioning the use of abilities—those three forces don’t yield to each other at all. Vomiting blood is the least of it.”
Propping himself up on his crutch, Lin Mengzhi struggled over. “What the hell just happened? Why were you two fighting?”
Everyone had seen it—those two had started fighting the moment they met, making such a huge scene.
Xie Chongyi couldn’t be bothered to answer. Wu Heng was unconscious now, so he obviously couldn’t respond either.
Lin Mengzhi wasn’t trying to think badly of it, nor could he twist it into something else. He scratched his head. “Can’t you just talk things out if something’s wrong? Doctor Chen, hurry up and do something.”
“Do what?” Doctor Chen snapped. “Doctors aren’t gods.”
“Pain relief, then!”
“How did he awaken dual-element abilities at the same time?” Sheng Jiang frowned as he looked at the boy lying on the mat, his breathing faint. “His body definitely won’t be able to handle it.”
During those few hours in Jingzhou, based on the footage, their judgment had been single-element—either wood or metal. They hadn’t expected it to be dual-element.
For a human being, both the benefits and the dangers were equally terrifying.
The others began arguing all at once. Xie Chongyi sat cross-legged beside Wu Heng.
The young man hadn’t even had time to remove his gear. One moment he tucked the blanket around Wu Heng, the next he wiped the cold sweat from Wu Heng’s forehead, turning a deaf ear to all the discussion under the rain shelter.
Wu Heng was a little thinner than before they’d separated. With his eyes closed, their shape was like two small blades; his nose bridge was clear and snow-pale; his lips were pale too, with only the faintest hint of pink. The blanket covered his body, and even the rise and fall beneath it was pitifully slight.
He really couldn’t take care of himself.
Xie Chongyi slipped a hand under the blanket and clasped Wu Heng’s icy fingers.
Only then did he notice the limp flower bud above Wu Heng’s head. With Wu Heng unconscious, it looked unconscious as well, drooping crookedly against the pillow.
Xie Chongyi’s gaze drifted over, and he recalled the first time Wu Heng had sprouted—how he had raised his hand without the slightest hesitation and yanked the green shoot right out.
Xie Chongyi leaned in and straightened the flower bud.
As he withdrew his hand, he didn’t forget to glance at Wu Heng—only to meet Wu Heng’s eyes directly.
Wu Heng opened his mouth. Beneath the blanket, his fingers scratched lightly at Xie Chongyi’s palm. In a hoarse voice, he said, “I want some water.”
Only then did the young man remove his goggles and wrist guards and get up to find a cup and some water.
Wu Heng turned his head, his gaze following Xie Chongyi’s steps. After watching for a while, he finally let out a soft breath.
Before long, Xie Chongyi returned with half a cup of water.
Wu Heng reached out to take it, but Xie Chongyi blocked his hand expressionlessly.
Xie Chongyi sat down on the ground, slid an arm under Wu Heng’s narrow waist, and with one arm alone lifted him into a seated position. Then he brought the cup to Wu Heng’s lips.
Wu Heng leaned against Xie Chongyi’s shoulder, drinking in small sips without a word. After each swallow he had to pause, gulping down the water with effort, fragile to the extreme.
Xie Chongyi didn’t rush him. He matched Wu Heng’s pace as he fed him, maintaining the same posture the whole time. He didn’t feel tired at all—if anything, he seemed quite absorbed.
When only the last few sips remained, Wu Heng braced the bottom of the cup himself, tilted up half his face, and let his gaze drift—seeming to but not quite—over Xie Chongyi’s unreadable expression. At last, he pushed the cup away and asked in confusion, “Class Monitor, do you still like me?”
——————————————————————
Author’s Note:
Meisida: So that’s what love is.
Little Ghost Snake: So that’s what love is.
Xie Chongyi: ?
**TN
Happy New Year! Happy 2026! 🎉