Chapter 129.2: “I have a boyfriend”
Zhou Shan’s place was right behind the rocky ridge of Beehive Mountain. Several small wooden cabins had been built together, with a courtyard in front. In the yard grew a patch of konjac plants, half a person tall, already in bloom—each flower rising like a tall-necked vase among the broad, oversized leaves.
“This voodoo lily is poisonous. Be careful—don’t touch it. If you do, your skin will itch,” Zhou Shan said, sidestepping carefully. “Oh, right. My name’s Zhou Shan. I’m thirty-two. What about you—what are your names, how old are you, where are you from? Visiting family, or just traveling?”
He squeezed through the doorway, and the doorframes on either side let out a creak. Everyone looked up uneasily.
“Why didn’t you make the door bigger?” Lin Mengzhi asked, realizing that Zhou Shan wasn’t especially fat. He was tall and heavily built—easily over two meters—with bulging muscles. Just from his back, he looked uncannily like a bear.
“This is the bigger door I made later,” Zhou Shan said. “But I’ve grown a bit recently, so it’s tight again. When it stops raining someday, I’ll tear it down and make an even larger one.”
The inside of Zhou Shan’s house was fairly spacious, with tables and chairs all neatly arranged. He pointed to several chairs that were a few sizes larger than normal. “Go on, sit, sit. I’ll boil some water for you.”
Wu Heng sat down on one of the chairs. X crouched on his left, and Shu Kui crouched on his right.
Even so, there were still chairs left over.
“He’s like a giant,” Wang Meixia murmured softly. “I barely recognize this world anymore.”
Before long, Zhou Shan reappeared. He said the water was boiling and told them to wait, then cheerfully squeezed back out through the door. When he returned, he was carrying a huge wicker basket on his back, piled high with the fish Wu Heng had just caught for him.
“I’ll cook fish for you.”
“We had to find somewhere to stay the night anyway,” Lin Mengzhi said as he wandered around the room. It looked much the same as houses from before the apocalypse, and that realization inevitably brought a faint sense of melancholy. He turned back to Shen Ping’an and asked, “Why is he so happy?”
“He hasn’t seen people in a long time,” Shen Ping’an said. “Weren’t they the same before?” He was referring to Wang Meixia and the others.
Wang Meixia rubbed her hands together. “If you’d been through what we went through, you’d understand. It felt like the whole world had shrunk down to just the few of us left. That feeling—there’s no way to describe how awful it was. Back then I even thought, maybe I should go catch a couple of nationally protected animals. Maybe then someone would show up. But in the end, we turned all the animals into oil, and we still didn’t see a single soul.”
An unnatural silence settled over the room.
Shen Ping’an cleared his throat twice. Lin Mengzhi said, “He’s an animal-human too, you know. If he wants to leave, he can. That’s different from not being able to.”
“Maybe he has his own unspeakable reasons,” Wang Meixia said.
“A’Heng, could you come outside with me for a moment?” When everyone’s attention was on Zhou Shan, Ruan Silian moved closer to Wu Heng and whispered to him.
…
In another room that looked like a study, Ruan Silian handed all the energy cores from her shoulder bag to Wu Heng, then said, “Actually, back at the visitor center, the energy cores I picked up were twice as many as the ones I gave you.”
“Thief,” Wu Heng said, mimicking Zhou Shan.
When he noticed the brief moment of confusion on Ruan Silian’s face, Wu Heng pressed his lips together and glanced toward her abdomen—only briefly—before asking, “The energy cores disappeared?”
Ruan Silian lowered her eyes. “It doesn’t feel like they disappeared. I think I absorbed them—but I don’t feel anything strange.” She wanted to say an ability, but she didn’t have one. She didn’t even know exactly what had happened.
Only then did Wu Heng feel certain.
“It’s probably that the hatchling needs energy. You’re one body now, so your body will supply whatever it needs.”
“I can’t feel its presence at all.” Ruan Silian had already prepared herself mentally for suffering. After all, it was an animal—a mutated one at that. It might be even harder than the months of human ‘sprouting,’ or she might wither away like the heroine in Twilight after becoming pregnant with a half-vampire child. But as long as she lived—if she could just live on…
Yet none of what she had imagined came to pass.
Wu Heng crouched down, his gaze fixed on Ruan Silian’s abdomen, completely devoid of any emotion. “I haven’t told you yet, but that female snake has become intelligent. She’s very clever, so the one in your belly won’t be too dumb either. It probably knows it’s an anomaly and chose to stay hidden to make things easier for you. That way, it also increases its chances of being born.”
Ruan Silian felt a shiver of shock. “That’s… incredibly smart.”
As they were still talking, Lin Mengzhi poked his head in. “Ruan Silian, are you done talking with A’Heng? If so, I’ll have a word with him.”
Wu Heng felt a bit tired.
He found a large, wide chair and sat down. It was padded with a thick layer of animal fur. When he settled in, he even felt himself sink slightly into it.
Lin Mengzhi automatically stood on the opposite side of the table.
He took a deep breath, then his expression suddenly stiffened.
“This isn’t right,” he said, slapping both hands on the table edge. “Stand up.”
Wu Heng felt comfortable like this and didn’t move.
“What isn’t right?”
“You’re making it feel like I’m your subordinate giving a report. Stand up, come on.” Lin Mengzhi said.
Wu Heng paused, but still didn’t rise. Instead, he leaned forward slightly, intending to listen.
“…huh,” Lin Mengzhi thought. Actually, this felt even closer to what he imagined.
He gave up caring about such trivial details. Lowering his voice, he said, “Wu Zhi is back!”
Wu Heng hadn’t expected that was what Lin Mengzhi wanted to say. He leaned back. “I know.”
“You know? When did you find out?”
“Before you did.”
“When will you forgive her?”
Wu Heng didn’t really understand the question. “Why should I forgive her?”
“She should already know she was wrong. Sigh… actually, I also want to argue with her a little, but I can’t—you know how it is. It’s like you secretly wish a car could suddenly crash into her and fling her away, but you’d still tell her, ‘It’s raining, remember to bring an umbrella, and watch the crosswalk when you go out.’ It’s crazy, right?” Lin Mengzhi twisted his face into a grimace, then suddenly leaned close to Wu Heng. “Do you get it?”
“I understand. But,” Wu Heng said, hands folded over his abdomen, “why is it me who has to forgive her? She didn’t kill me.”
And Lin Mengzhi was still propped up by a section of the firewood; his left lower leg hadn’t healed yet.
“That’s true,” Lin Mengzhi nodded. “But I also can’t forgive her—she actually tried to kill me!”
“Mm, so what are you trying to say?”
Lin Mengzhi didn’t know either. He ran a hand through his hair and paced once around the study, then finally returned to Wu Heng. “I just don’t want her wandering outside all alone. It’s not safe out there.”
“I didn’t let her stay out there,” Wu Heng said.
“But she’s afraid you’ll blame her, so she doesn’t dare see you.”
“I’m not blaming her anymore.” If Wu Shiming was the executioner, then Wu Zhi was at most the tassel on his sword—his indifference was actually a mixture of hatred and venting. But not long ago, he finally realized that people can’t heal themselves with expired medicine—especially when it isn’t medicine at all.
Lin Mengzhi let out a sigh of relief. “That’s good. If you’re not blaming her, that’s enough. I’ll go look for her; she’s probably nearby.”
After Lin Mengzhi turned to leave the study, Zhou Shan called everyone over to drink the tea he had made.
Zhou Shan squatted by his tea table, clumsily going through the steps with both hands while explaining, “This tea is from wild tea trees I personally picked and hand-roasted a few months ago. I found that after mutation, the wild tea trees are especially fragrant and not so bitter.”
He went back and forth, brewing and pouring again and again, scalding the kettle and the cups, until finally he served each person a small cup.
Wu Heng sat cross-legged on a floor cushion. He took a sip from Zhou Shan’s sparkling eyes—well, from the cup Zhou Shan offered. The tea was neither sweet nor bitter. It had a faint fragrance, but it didn’t appeal to him much; it was mainly just for quenching thirst.
Still, he looked every bit like a top-tier tea connoisseur: long hair, half-tied with a few wooden sticks that Ruan Silian had fixed in place, exuding that brooding aura of “choosing only the coldest branch to rest upon, lonely on a barren sandbank”—the classic look of unrecognized talent.
Zhou Shan, full of expectation, was ready to hear words of praise. But Wu Heng just tilted his head and looked at his cup. “Is there a bigger cup?”
“…” Zhou Shan could only glance at the others.
“My dad would probably like it,” Ruan Silian said. “He used to brew tea at home a lot.”
Shen Ping’an: “Nobody drinks tea at my house.”
Lin Mengzhi: “What counts as herbal tea?”
“I actually think it’s good,” Liu Dongfan said. “There’s a sweet aftertaste after a sip. The leaves are full-bodied, the water separates well, the aroma is restrained… not bad, not bad at all.”
Zhou Shan’s face lit up in a “finally, someone understands” expression.
But he quickly got up again. After a clattering session in what was probably the kitchen, he came out carrying a large tray. “Now try some fruit tea. I made it with honey. I saw you—well, ‘borrowing’ honey just now—so I figured you’d like it.”
“This is honey passionfruit jam I made myself. And this is Schisandra. Earlier, it was too hot, so a lot ripened. I picked some and made it into jam too. You have to use less though—most people can’t handle it.”
Zhou Shan carefully brewed cup after cup, handing each person a large serving.
“This is delicious!”
“Delicious!”
Wu Heng nodded as well. “It’s good.”
Zhou Shan finally earned everyone’s approval. He heaved himself up, saying, “I’ll go make lunch. You can wander around nearby, but once you leave the courtyard, be careful of the beasts—and those plants that don’t know any better. There are lots of monkeys around, and they’ve changed from before… always thinking about eating people now.”
“So that’s why you planted those konjac plants in the yard? Do they guard the place?” Lin Mengzhi asked, leaning against the kitchen doorway.
“Of course not. They just can’t be touched or eaten. If the monkeys really come, I can only chase them off.” Zhou Shan grabbed two fish, quickly descaled them and gutted them. “One steamed, one for soup. How’s that?”
“No problem.”
He bent over the counter, pulling out his precious seasonings one by one, sighing to himself. “Back in the day, these fish would be perfect for frying into tiny dried fish—really delicious. Could’ve ranked in the top few in the whole country. And back then, they wouldn’t let anyone catch them—not just these fish, even the Chinese giant salamanders weren’t allowed to be taken.”
“Where are the giant salamanders?”
“Giant salamanders? Who knows what river they’re in now. They’ve changed… aren’t as well-behaved, running everywhere.”
“Why don’t you leave?” Lin Mengzhi asked, curious. “Your fighting ability shouldn’t be low.”
“I’m not leaving. My parents died here, I grew up here, and I’ve been feeding these bees since they were little. Places like this—places with divine sightings—need someone to guard them,” Zhou Shan said, keeping his head down as he worked on the fish, his expression firm. “If someday society restores order and tourists come, but the trees, flowers, and little animals in the mountains are all gone—dug up or taken—then the divine sight turns into nothing but a divine nightmare.”
“Besides, live off the mountain, live off the water. They raised me when I was little; I raise them now that they’re grown. You can’t forget your roots, right?” Zhou Shan chuckled. “I just hope there’ll still be people coming to visit one day. I don’t want this place to be forgotten.”
After hearing him, Lin Mengzhi felt a mix of unease, frustration, and even a bit of emotion.
“What if it stays like this forever? Won’t you end up lonely for the rest of your life?”
“Can’t be helped. I chose this myself.” Zhou Shan set aside the marinated fish and brought out a large pot, filling it with water. “You’ve asked me so much, I’ve answered everything. Now I’ll ask you a question—you can answer honestly, right?”
Lin Mengzhi stepped into the kitchen. “Brothers don’t play games. Just ask whatever you want.”
“Straightforward!” Zhou Shan gave a thumbs-up, then sneaked a glance outside the kitchen. A pale-faced youth hung his head, mist swirling around the window beside him. The scene was as beautiful as a traditional landscape painting, and Zhou Shan’s heart thumped. “So… that person—male or female? I’m kinda confused. Looks like a girl, but the voice… sounds like a guy…”
Lin Mengzhi froze, then turned his head in disbelief. Sure enough, this giant block of a man was talking about his childhood friend.
He immediately put some distance between them.
“What are you trying to do?”
“I… I…” Zhou Shan even flushed red.
Lin Mengzhi wasn’t stupid—he immediately said, “Stop thinking about it. He’s a guy.”
The moment the words left his mouth, he noticed Zhou Shan’s face turning even redder, darkening until it almost seemed like the black bear beneath the surface was surfacing.
“Whoa, are you crazy or what!” Lin Mengzhi realized immediately—this guy was gay.
He bolted in a panic, landing on his knees in front of Wu Heng. “A’Heng, let’s leave right after we eat!”
Wu Heng, meanwhile, was enjoying honey with a dog, a bird, and a vine, having already eaten nearly half the jar.
Hearing this, he raised an eyebrow. “Why the rush?”
Under Wu Heng’s gaze, Lin Mengzhi couldn’t really lie. He turned his head and caught Zhou Shan’s teasing, almost-flirtatious expression. He couldn’t take it and leaned close to Wu Heng, whispering in a very serious tone: “This bear… he’s gay. He’s got his eyes on you!”
The moment he said it, goosebumps erupted all over him. Too terrifying—he’s already a bear, and now he’s into men? Gay bears are terrifying.
Wu Heng lowered his head and scooped a full spoon of honey from the jar. The clear golden liquid reflected the faint blush on his ears, but his tone remained utterly calm. “You can tell him I already have a boyfriend.”
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Author’s Note:
Lin Mengzhi: Exactly! Exactly! You obviously—what do you have?!!!!!!!!!
Too bad, Class Monitor Xie isn’t here.
Thankfully, Class Monitor Xie isn’t here.