Chapter 124: “I just want to be in love”
Shen Ping’an and Lin Mengzhi entered the house where the man was currently living, with Shukui following behind them.
When he saw Lin Mengzhi hobbling along with a cane, he was startled. “What happened to you?”
“It’s broken. I’ll figure something out in a couple of days—it’ll grow back,” Lin Mengzhi said indifferently.
“Grow back in a couple of days?” The man was completely baffled. “What on earth are you talking about?”
As he walked, he kept glancing back. In a deep mountain forest like this, four half-grown kids had appeared in a place even difficult for an adult human body to pass through—and they had even driven a jeep in here. No, this wasn’t right. The man swallowed hard, cold sweat breaking out on his body. He might have let a few little ghosts into his home.
Lin Mengzhi looked around curiously. “Is it just you? Didn’t you say there were others?”
See? See? They hadn’t even stepped through the door yet, and they were already thinking of wiping him out in one go.
“Let me introduce myself first. My surname is Luo—Luo Lei.” He turned around and reached out to shake hands with the two of them.
“Lin Mengzhi.”
“Shen Ping’an.”
Luo Lei realized that both of them had body heat—warmer than his, even. He let out a complete sigh of relief, the tears that had welled up earlier finally spilling over again.
“Come in, come in!”
The light inside the house was very dim, like a fleeting shot of a dilapidated building in a documentary. The walls were not only leaning but also riddled with cracks, propped up by several wooden beams placed there by the occupant.
There was no electricity and no gas. The man took out a short length of cotton wick from a box, then rummaged around on the floor for a glass bottle. He put the wick inside and lit it with a lighter. “This is an oil lamp we made ourselves.”
“Where did the oil come from?”
“Sit wherever you like. I’ll go boil some water.” He picked up a pitch-black kettle from the corner of the wall, and soon the sound of water being ladled—splash, splash—came from outside.
After he left, the two of them didn’t move much. Only Lin Mengzhi, unable to stand for long, found a nearby stool and sat down.
They looked around the room. It really did look like a place someone lived in—everywhere bore the traces of daily life, and it was kept fairly tidy and clean. It was just that the house was far too old. After enduring an earthquake and then being battered by the surrounding plants and animals, it looked like it couldn’t hold out for much longer.
Shen Ping’an stood where he was for a few seconds. He stared at the oil lamp for a moment, stepped closer, and sniffed.
“Human fat.”
Lin Mengzhi sprang up from the stool at once, nearly losing his grip on the cane in his hand.
“The water’s boiling. It’ll be ready in a bit,” Luo Lei said as he wiped his face with a gray-black filthy rag, then his neck, and then rubbed his hands and belly with it as well. Seeing both boys wrinkle their faces at the same time, he said sheepishly, “Can’t be helped—these are the conditions. We’ve got nothing here.”
“You can tell at a glance you’re students. Summer break should be over by now, right? It’s not even National Day yet, and you’re running around everywhere…” He tossed the towel into the washbasin by the door and scrubbed it hard, then grabbed it, wrung it out, and hung it on a length of iron wire—above which, behind the beam, a spider the size of a clenched fist squatted there, muttering, its eyes glowing red.
Lin Mengzhi hesitated, wanting to speak but stopping himself. He scratched his head, not knowing how to put it into words.
This kind of conversation felt as though it belonged to a hundred years ago.
When he thought about it carefully, it hadn’t even been half a year—yet it already felt like a lifetime ago.
“The world now… might not be quite the same as before.” Lin Mengzhi viciously pinched Shen Ping’an from behind, urging him to speak. He himself didn’t know how to describe it.
Shen Ping’an dodged Lin Mengzhi and said flatly, “The apocalypse has arrived. Order has collapsed. After ecological breakdown and reconstruction, the state and local governments are currently organizing rebuilding efforts. The global population has been reduced by about two-thirds, which very likely includes the families of you and your teammates as well.”
“…” Lin Mengzhi lowered his voice. “The last sentence didn’t really need to be said—”
Luo Lei stood there in a daze for quite a while. He stroked his bushy beard. “Which show are you cosplaying from? This plot feels kind of familiar.”
The moment his words fell, the vines behind Shen Ping’an were already climbing up the cracked wall. With a wet puchi sound, the mutant spider that had been preparing to launch an attack was pierced through. It hung struggling from the vine tip, glaring at Shen Ping’an with hatred.
In Luo Lei’s field of vision, the vine lifted a spider the size of a bowl right up to his face. The fine hairs on its legs, the restless venomous fangs, the constantly waving chelicerae—because of its enlarged size, every part was frighteningly clear, and all the more terrifying.
Most crucial of all, the creature that had captured it was a plant. In nature, all carnivorous plants—like Venus flytraps or pitcher plants—basically rely on lying in wait. It was nearly impossible for them to launch an active attack.
“No, this… this isn’t…” Luo Lei stammered, spit flying and clinging to his beard as his legs staggered backward again and again.
A burst of firelight flared to life, instantly banishing every shadow from the room and driving away the cold in a single moment.
Above Lin Mengzhi’s palm floated a swaying fireball. As his five fingers turned, the fireball rotated with them.
“Now you believe it, right?”
Unexpectedly, Luo Lei’s eyes rolled back, and he fainted.
—
When Luo Lei woke up, it was already dark. The house was even warmer than before. Outside, rain was falling, pattering softly.
He didn’t spare a thought for the extra people in the room, nor for the companions who had returned with food. Instead, he seemed to be in a delirious state. Staggering, he dug his backpack out from a corner of the wall, fished his phone out from the very bottom, and frantically pressed the power button.
No matter how long he pressed, the screen never lit up. He collapsed to the ground at once, covering his face and crying out for his mother.
The people around him sat quietly.
Gathered around a campfire that had been burning for a long time.
Wu Heng sat with his chin resting on his knees, fingers gripping a stick skewering an entire rack of wolf ribs, turning it over and over above the flames. Clear fat dripped, drop by drop, into the fire, filling the whole room with the rich aroma of sizzling meat juices.
“Watch your hair.” Seeing that he had no awareness at all of how long it had grown—his hair tips were almost sliding into the fire—Ruan Silian hurriedly reached out and tucked a few loose strands by his cheek behind his ear.
“Thanks.” Wu Heng straightened up. “It’s ready.”
A whole row of swallowing sounds rose from across the room, so loud that even Shen Ping’an’s explanation of the apocalypse went unheard—they hadn’t eaten a proper meal in a very long time.
Wu Heng brought the still-bubbling grilled ribs to his mouth, blew on them, then took a bite. Crunch—the outer layer of fat had been roasted crisp.
Following Wu Heng, Lin Mengzhi and the others had basically never gone hungry. They weren’t in any rush to eat, either. Ruan Silian even told Wu Heng to slow down and be careful not to burn himself.
“Right, where were we just now?” Staring at someone while they were eating felt a bit impolite. A woman swallowed hard, then turned her gaze back to Shen Ping’an.
“The whole world has fallen.”
“The whole world?!”
“You’ve got to be kidding…”
Shen Ping’an lifted the lid of the pot. The water hadn’t boiled yet, so he put it back on. “Believe it or not—that’s your freedom.”
“We’re not saying we don’t believe you. It’s just… we don’t dare to,” the woman said, her shoulders slumping in dejection. “My husband and I finally managed to take a vacation using our annual leave and came out to travel, only to get trapped in the mountains. We thought our child was already in college, so we didn’t need to worry too much. And now you’re talking about the apocalypse, zombies, superpowers… She’s a girl—what is she supposed to do?”
The square-faced man beside her was her husband. He hadn’t said a word from the beginning. Only when the woman started crying did he lift a hand to gently pat her back, trying to comfort her.
“You can assume the worst,” Shen Ping’an said, utterly without emotion.
The group of hiking enthusiasts all wore ashen, hopeless expressions.
Lin Mengzhi hated scenes like this the most. Rubbing his palms together, he reminded Shen Ping’an, “The water’s boiling.”
Shen Ping’an lifted the pot lid. Ruan Silian was the first to pour in a basin of sliced meat she had already prepared. The rolling boil immediately calmed. She stirred gently with her chopsticks to keep the meat from clumping together.
“These are dried wild vegetables we hung up ourselves.” A woman in the corner handed over a basket. “There are all kinds of mushrooms in there too. They make the soup really fragrant.”
“You haven’t tried leaving?” Lin Mengzhi asked curiously. “It’s been months already—you all look like wild men.”
“How could we not have tried? But we always got lost. Several times we almost couldn’t find our way back. And the wild animals on the mountain are vicious—especially during the snowfall some time ago. Two of our people froze to death…”
The man who was answering complained and complained, then suddenly fell silent, his expression and eyes turning utterly panicked.
Wu Heng calmly gnawed on his ribs, pretending not to notice that everyone else had tensed up in perfect unison.
“You killed people.” Shen Ping’an reminded Ruan Silian that the meat was done, then poured the basket of wild vegetables into the pot.
Clatter.
A stool toppled to the ground. The man who had been sitting on it nearly jumped three meters into the air. He flailed about, then finally stammered, “You—you can’t say things like that without evidence! Kill people? How could we possibly kill anyone?”
“You used human fat to make lamps,” Shen Ping’an said.
“How do you know?”
“I could smell it.” Most ability users could tell the difference to some extent—especially in the apocalypse. There were too many dead; the smell of death had become familiar.
“We really didn’t kill anyone, really!” A woman waved her hands frantically. “They died of hypothermia. We couldn’t save them. There was no signal when we called emergency services or the fire department. After they stopped breathing, all we could do was bury them. But something dug up their bodies later and tore them apart, scattering them everywhere.”
“Anyway, even if we buried them they’d just get dug up again. We thought—since that was the case—we might as well render them into oil. At least it could keep us warm and give us light, so…”
“Didn’t eat it?” A voice as clear and gentle as a flowing stream suddenly cut in.
Everyone shuddered and fell silent.
“Just rendering them into oil—what a waste,” he said. “At any time, the most important thing is to eat your fill.”
Unable to resist, everyone stole glances at the young man who had sighed. Seeing that he wasn’t being sarcastic at all, but utterly serious, a chill ran down their spines. For him to say that—did that mean he’d eaten human flesh before?!
“We really didn’t eat it—we really didn’t…” someone said in a trembling voice. “Eating people… how could anyone bring themselves to do that? We really didn’t…”
“Do you have bowls?” Lin Mengzhi took out a large soup ladle from his backpack and rinsed it in the nearby bucket. “It’s done—I’ll serve you.”
The grief paused for the moment, and everyone went to dig out their stainless-steel rice bowls.
Shen Ping’an handed each of them a flatbread that Meisida had baked the night before.
In the flickering firelight, the people—who had been rationing food for months—didn’t care that the broth was still boiling hot. They slurped it down gulp by gulp, barely chewing the bread before swallowing it whole. The sound of swallowing alone was enough to make one’s chest ache.
“Is everyone here?” Lin Mengzhi nibbled at his bread absentmindedly. “One, two, three… seven people. We can’t take that many with us, right, A’Heng?”
Wu Heng didn’t respond. He tossed the rib in his hand to Shukui, who was drooling beside him, then picked up a piece of bread.
“It’s… it’s okay. We can split it into two trips. As long as you get us out of the mountains, we can make our way home ourselves!” the couple said hurriedly.
“If you don’t have abilities, you might not make it back,” Shen Ping’an warned. “Zombies are everywhere.”
“Then could you maybe—”
“No,” Shen Ping’an refused in advance.
Lin Mengzhi was softer-hearted. Speaking from behind Shen Ping’an, he said, “We still have our own things to deal with. Our little sister is missing, and my friend is sick. Sigh… you’ll have to do your best on your own.”
They planned to rest here for the night and continue their journey at daybreak.
Before falling asleep, they kept hearing someone crying in deep sorrow. Even though the sound was deliberately kept low, they could hear it clearly—just like when the apocalypse had first descended, when such cries were everywhere.
—
“The frequency of magnetic field anomalies is getting higher and higher. The real disaster isn’t far off. You and your friends should go out and take a look together—before long, you won’t be able to see a world like this anymore.”
Under the influence of abnormal geomagnetism, life can still struggle on amid extreme weather. But once the atmosphere is destroyed, all life on Earth will perish.
“And you?” the boy asked, standing behind the woman, his tone indifferent.
“I’ll hold on until the very last moment.”
Xie Chongyi stood quietly behind Xie Yi. She was wearing a hat, with only a few centimeters of black hair showing—most of the hair at the crown of her head had already turned white. Over the years, she had worked with many people to search for ways to prevent the disaster from arriving. Evidently, she had failed—and she had also grown timid, unwilling to shatter humanity’s beautiful hope that “order will re-emerge and the world will become brand new.”
He turned around and left Xie Yi’s office without hesitation.
In the corridor, the soles of his boots struck the floor again and again, each impact echoing as his impassive face was reflected on the walls.
A helicopter landed next door. Xie Chongyi stopped and looked down through the window.
The rotor blades gradually slowed to a halt. The cabin door opened, and sixteen people got out.
Xie Chongyi remembered clearly that twenty people had boarded that helicopter in the morning.
He turned and continued downstairs.
He had to pass through several buildings to reach their office area. Compared with the combat command center, their small building was desolate and insignificant—but the interior was anything but quiet. Dou Lu’s face was flushed red as she stammered through her report on last night’s mission. When she noticed someone snickering, she was on the verge of collapse, but when Wu Dian was working, his gaze was more terrifying than that of their old school’s tyrannical principal.
Xie Chongyi waited for a while in the corridor outside. Only after the meeting ended did he go in.
“What did the colonel want to talk to you about?” Sheng Jiang lounged lazily in his chair, spinning around. “She’s pretty depressed right now—don’t let it affect you.”
“Professor Lu Ming has been detained.” Xie Chongyi pulled open a drawer and took out a bag of biscuits.
“As he should be. He said the apocalypse is divine punishment, that every one of us should lay down our weapons and kneel to repent the sins of our first half of life. Oh, and swatting mosquitoes counts as a sin too,” said a boy lying face-down on the desk, half-asleep, raising his hand.
He was ranked third, named Chen Qi. He came right after Wu Dian—and could drive just about every kind of vehicle currently in existence.
“Actually, under normal circumstances it wouldn’t have been a big deal. There are plenty of superstitious people out there—your teacher was pretty mystical too, wasn’t he? Got reported several times. But this time with Professor Lu—why? His incitement directly led to the deaths of all the soldiers carrying out that mission. He was the only one who came back, and the military even sent people to pick him up. It’s unreal. If it were me going to get him, I’d have dealt with him on the way.” Chen Qi said through clenched teeth.
Wu Dian, seated in front of the monitors, suddenly looked at Chen Qi. “Don’t you have a mission at four?”
“Yeah. There’s a disease at the northern base that’s never appeared before. I’m escorting an emergency medical team there with a few people from the military.”
“Be careful.”
“My head hurts—really hurts.” While knocking on his own head, Chen Qi caught sight of the black flower pinned to Xie Chongyi’s chest. Curious, he stood up to take a closer look. “Xiao Xie, at a time like this you still haven’t forgotten to look pretty.”
Xie Chongyi slowly nibbled on a biscuit. “If thinking that way makes you feel a bit better, suit yourself.”
“?” Chen Qi didn’t understand.
Xue Shen twirled his pen. “Wu Heng gave it to him.”
“Wu Heng? Yesterday’s guy? Why would he give you a flower?”
“Yeah! Why would Wu Heng give you a flower? He didn’t give me one.” Dou Lu found it very strange.
“Alright, I’m not chatting with you guys anymore.” Chen Qi checked the time, grabbed his jacket, and put it on. “I heard the northern base has really good noodles. If that’s true, I’ll bring some back for you to try.”
“OK—” The others, who hadn’t spoken until then, responded in unison.
Dou Lu watched the boy’s retreating figure. “What’s his ability?”
“Breathing.”
“?”
After finishing his biscuits, Xie Chongyi folded up the wrapper and casually stuffed it into Sheng Jiang’s hat. Then he sat down beside him. “Hey.”
Sheng Jiang shot him a sidelong glance. “What.”
“Lend me your ability for a bit.”
“For what?” Sheng Jiang straightened up, thinking it was official business.
“I need to talk to Wu Heng.”
“……” Blue filaments appeared in Sheng Jiang’s palm, intertwining into a net as points of light flickered constantly. “So you’ve been dawdling around all this time just for this?”
Xie Chongyi propped his chin on his hand and smiled. “Saving the world is your job. I just want to be in love.”
Accurately locating a target among countless energy bodies was no easy task, but fortunately, Wu Heng’s energy body was almost the strongest of them all, so locking onto it was effortless.
Sheng Jiang raised his hand to eye level, concentrating carefully. “Looks like he’s about to rest. Are you sure you want to bother him at a time like this?”
Xie Chongyi frowned slightly and lifted a hand to cover Sheng Jiang’s eyes. “Don’t peek at my boyfriend while he’s sleeping.”
“As if I want to! That’s just how my ability works—what do you expect me to do?”
Xie Chongyi took the energy link—one that could last a few minutes—from Sheng Jiang’s hand.
Wu Heng was indeed about to go to sleep, just not asleep yet. Lin Mengzhi and Shen Ping’an were still chatting on and off. X kept butting in to join the conversation, Shukui would bark occasionally, and only Ruan Silian was quiet, as if she were the first to have fallen asleep.
Half of Lin Mengzhi’s body was sprawled over Wu Heng, and he seemed to have endless common topics with Shen Ping’an, who was separated from him by Wu Heng.
“How about we wander around Yunling a bit more later? I want to see pandas—and crested ibises too.”
“We’re not sightseeing,” Shen Ping’an reminded him.
“It’s not that different. A’Heng, do you want to see pandas?”
“No.” After saying that, Wu Heng coughed twice.
In the dim light, Shen Ping’an propped himself up and pushed Lin Mengzhi. “Don’t press on him.”
Lin Mengzhi switched to hugging Wu Heng instead. “A’Heng, you’re so cold. If I hold you, won’t you be warmer?”
Just as Wu Heng was about to answer, he suddenly sensed an abnormal fluctuation of energy. It drew a response from the energy within his own body—his left ring finger and earlobe began to warm, gradually surpassing the warmth Lin Mengzhi was transferring to him.
“Wu Heng?” Xie Chongyi’s voice sounded by his ear.
Wu Heng was sure it was Xie Chongyi’s voice—and just as sure that no one beside him could hear it.
Xie Chongyi’s voice was very low, carrying his usual arrogant, cool edge, but today there was a faint, almost imperceptible warmth mixed in.
“Mm.” Wu Heng felt inexplicably uncomfortable. He didn’t know why, nor what exactly felt off. He nudged the blanket with his foot, and the fingers resting on his abdomen curled into a fist.
“Little brother said you were about to sleep,” Xie Chongyi said.
“Yeah, almost.” Wu Heng glanced at Lin Mengzhi, who was still chattering away nonstop. The other guy clearly hadn’t heard him speak at all—he really wanted Sheng Jiang’s signal-transmission ability too.
“I got the flower,” Xie Chongyi said. He took the still-fresh poppy out of his pocket and held it up to examine it. “It’s very beautiful.”
Wu Heng didn’t know what to say and answered with another soft “Mm.”
“Say a few more words,” Xie Chongyi said quietly, standing in the corridor. “Little brother’s ability only lasts a few minutes.”
“I don’t know what to say.”
“Do you miss me?” Xie Chongyi imagined Wu Heng’s awkward, restrained expression. It was rare for him to be like this—he was usually taciturn, but not hesitant or clingy. Thinking that Wu Heng only looked like this because of him made Xie Chongyi lower his head with a quiet laugh.
Wu Heng felt his ears burn painfully, like something was biting at them. He nodded, then said vaguely, “I do.”
— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —
Author’s Note:
Little Demon Snake: I don’t know what to say
Xiao Xie: Say anything
Little Demon Snake: Mengzhi is on my left, Ping’an is on my right
Xiao Xie: Okay, stop talking now
**TN
小鬼蛇 (little demon snake) – little demon (term of endearment for a child), I don’t know why he’s a snake tho… Maybe because of the vines?