Chapter 132: “This is love”
“In weather like this, you flew the helicopter here yourself?” Shen Ping’an frowned. “What’s so urgent? Or did something happen to the class rep and the others?”
“It is urgent.” Xie Chongyi held his hands over the fire, turning them back and forth to warm them. “Do you remember that bear cub we helped deliver before?”
“The one with the wolf pack?”
“We ran into it at an underground auction house at the Northern Base.”
Lin Mengzhi hadn’t wanted to be curious, but he couldn’t help himself. He scooted over to sit beside Xie Chongyi. “What’s an auction house?”
“Pretty much the same as auctions before the apocalypse—except now they’re not selling antique paintings, but all kinds of mutated animals, plants, and people.”
“People? Men and women?”
“Men, women, young, old.”
“Then they’d only be interested in ability users, right? Haha.” Lin Mengzhi let out a dry laugh, the muscles in his face a little stiff. The chaos and depravity after the collapse of order were clearly hard to accept.
“Everyone has different needs. Naturally, the people put up for auction aren’t limited to ability users.”
The firewood crackled and popped.
After a long while, Shen Ping’an finally spoke. “What kind of world is this, already.”
“Such is animal nature. Once a creature gains the ability to think, that nature expresses itself in more diverse ways—just dressed up to look profound and inscrutable.”
Shen Ping’an said, “Eating, drinking, and bodily functions pretty much sum it up.”
Xie Chongyi raised an eyebrow slightly.
Lin Mengzhi was still caught between confusion and fury when Wu Heng came out of the room. The moment he did, that bittersweet scent drifted out with him. Shen Ping’an caught it immediately; he turned and pushed the window open. “Did you bloom a lot of flowers last night?”
Wu Heng sat down beside Xie Chongyi. “A little.”
Even Ruan Silian leaned in to sniff near his shoulder. “It smells so good—sweet but not cloying. The bitterness in the top notes balances the sweetness in the base notes really well.”
“Base notes now?” Lin Mengzhi crossed one leg over the other.
Xie Chongyi reached under the table to hook his fingers around Wu Heng’s hand, their knees pressed together as well.
No one else found it strange that the two were sitting so close together. Their relationship had always been good; after such a long time apart, it was probably even better now.
“Since the auction house has already been exposed, do you have any punitive measures for people like them?” Shen Ping’an busied himself pouring Wu Heng a cup of honey water, then topped up everyone else’s cups as well.
“Killing them would be a waste. Most of that group are ability users, so there are people specifically assigned to escort them to Siwangzhidi for ‘reconstruction,’” Xie Chongyi answered Shen Ping’an absentmindedly.
He pulled Wu Heng’s hand onto his own knee again and leaned in close to his ear. “Brother’s hand is so soft.”
“What kind of place is Siwangzhidi?” Lin Mengzhi asked, staring up at the ceiling.
“A new continent that emerged after various natural disasters. Because of its advantageous location, quite a few countries covet it, but it doesn’t accept anyone entering. The miasma around its outer perimeter alone has stopped most people in their tracks.”
“Then if you throw those people in there, wouldn’t they be poisoned to death in no time?” Lin Mengzhi finally couldn’t hold it in anymore. His neck was sore from craning it upward, so he turned to look to the side—and happened to see Xie Chongyi and Wu Heng with their fingers interlaced. He had never even interlaced fingers with Wu Heng before. He tilted his head back again.
“If they’re lucky, they might break through the outer miasma layer. Once past it, what awaits them is an endless forest. There are new species in that forest that don’t exist outside. Under their watch, no one has yet managed to cross it.”
“Using them as pathfinders?”
“There are other options,” Xie Chongyi said. “Execution by firing squad is one.”
“People probably aren’t paying that much attention to this place,” Shen Ping’an said. “Otherwise, there wouldn’t have been no movement for so long.”
“Mm. There are more important matters now.” Xie Chongyi replied casually, twirling a strand of Wu Heng’s hair around his finger. “Wu Heng, don’t you think so?”
When Wu Heng spoke, his voice was unbearably hoarse. He cleared his throat before managing to get the words out.
“I want to try.”
Xie Chongyi’s smile gathered faintly at the corners of his mouth. “Siwangzhidi—so that’s what you want?”
Shen Ping’an and Lin Mengzhi both turned to look at Wu Heng. The former was quietly thinking it over; the latter was outright stunned. Lin Mengzhi didn’t even have the patience to wait for Wu Heng to confirm—he shot to his feet at once, knocking over his chair. “Want what?!”
Wu Heng pushed Xie Chongyi away and went back into the study, bringing out a map.
The map was spread out on the table. Wang Meixia and the others exchanged glances, then gathered around—not conspicuously, not awkwardly—but the core figures were still the few young people.
They found the map a little unfamiliar. The territory was larger than before; in their memory, the positions of several mountain ranges had shifted—some cut short, others extended. Many lakes had disappeared, while others had appeared in places where none had existed before.
They looked to the location of their home. That area had changed as well. The surrounding mountain ridges pressed inward toward the center, and several high peaks that hadn’t existed before now stood behind the rolling ranges, looming over their homeland.
“The elevation west of Yaozhou has risen nearly three thousand meters compared to before. The snow mountains have been pushed close to the base. By comparison, the climate of Siwangzhidi might actually be more suitable for human habitation,” Wu Heng said, looking at the area he had circled.
Wu Heng had his own considerations.
If he directly pulled down the person in charge of the Yaozhou Base, the next person to take over would inherit not just the position, but all of the base’s affairs—including the problem of ensuring the survival of every single survivor in the base. He himself still didn’t have enough to eat.
Nor could he possibly drive all the survivors of the Yaozhou Base out. Even if humanity didn’t have that much inherent value, a base that could only exist because humans existed would be even less valuable without them.
Lin Mengzhi lay sprawled over the still-warm table, rubbing his chin. “Suitable for living, sure—but the problem is, it doesn’t let us live there.”
“Remove whatever’s generating the miasma, eliminate the miasma itself, and use the primeval forest as a natural defensive wall,” Shen Ping’an said, studying the map. “It’s not impossible.”
“Purify it? How do we purify it?”
“I’ll try it when the time comes,” Wu Heng said softly, lowering his eyes.
“And dissolving it—how do you dissolve it?”
“I—”
Xie Chongyi propped his cheek on one hand and, from behind, gave Wu Heng’s waist a light tap, cutting him off. “Even if your ability can handle both dissolution and purification at the same time, it’s impossible to purify the entire miasma forest. Unless you don’t want to live.”
“And besides, your body hasn’t even finished its adaptation period yet. I don’t—”
Wu Heng withdrew the gaze that had been resting on Xie Chongyi’s face. “That’s my business.”
The room fell silent.
Wu Heng usually got along very well with Xie Chongyi—anyone with eyes could see that. And even if you couldn’t quite see it, you could feel it: Xie Chongyi treated Wu Heng better than he treated anyone else. The perpetually gloomy and aloof Wu Heng only ever showed signs of softening when he was with Xie Chongyi.
This was the first time Wu Heng had spoken to Xie Chongyi in such a cold, distant tone.
Xie Chongyi put some distance between them. Leaning back against his chair, he let out a laugh. “Alright then. Your business—do as you like. As long as you’re happy.”
Seeing this, Ruan Silian quickly stepped in. “Class Monitor, A’Heng didn’t mean it that way. What he meant is that you’re in Jingzhou right now, with heavy responsibilities. He doesn’t want you worrying too much about him. After all, you’ve chosen different paths—A’Heng must have his own considerations.”
Xie Chongyi’s lashes lowered like calamus leaves, shadowing his eyes. He showed neither pleasure nor anger, said nothing, and gave no response at all to Ruan Silian’s words.
Off to the side, Wu Heng rolled up the map and looked at Xie Chongyi. “Class Monitor—when are you leaving?”
When Zhou Shan carried out a whole basin of meat soup, he saw a handsome man he’d never seen before walking out of his house.
His eyes instantly glued themselves to the guy, and he couldn’t help calling out, “Stay and have a meal!”
Right after that, Wu Heng chased out after him.
Zhou Shan’s gaze shifted and stuck to Wu Heng instead. “Dinner’s ready! Where are you going?”
The rain outside had just stopped. Puddles on the road reached halfway up the calves. The already muddy ground had been soaked soft—every step sank into a pit.
Wu Heng hadn’t expected the conditions outside to be this bad. Watching Xie Chongyi’s back, he thought about how the man had come running all the way from Jingzhou and entered the mountains last night under exactly these circumstances, and his chest felt a little heavy.
“Class Monitor.”
“Class Monitor.”
“Xie Chongyi.”
“I know you’re angry, but I wasn’t wrong either. You take care of yourself, I’ll take care of myself—we won’t drag each other down.” Wu Heng’s shoes and pants were completely splattered with mud and water; he’d even lost one shoe in a muddy pit.
He didn’t dislike dirt. Soil made him feel an instinctive fondness and closeness. But he hated this moment.
It wasn’t that he hated Xie Chongyi being angry—he hated that Xie Chongyi would just leave without a word.
Xie Chongyi paused, then turned back expressionlessly and closed in on Wu Heng.
“My head hurts right now. Are you going to take care of that?”
Wu Heng froze for a moment. “I have Doctor Chen.”
Xie Chongyi curled his lip slightly. “Doctor Chen is your doctor.”
“…”
“My headache is my business. It has nothing to do with you.”
Wu Heng frowned.
By now, most of the anger in Xie Chongyi’s heart had already dissipated, but there were still things that had to be made clear. “What—don’t like hearing that? Then do you think I like hearing what you said?”
“Does being loved scare you that much?” Xie Chongyi bent down, looking straight into Wu Heng’s eyes. “Or do you think being a couple only means getting into bed? I can choose not to sleep with you, but if you want me not to care about you—that’s impossible.”
“Wu Heng, if you die before I do, I’ll be the one choosing your coffin. With me, there’s no such thing as ‘your business’ and ‘my business.’ If you don’t want me to interfere, you can draw a clear line with me right now. I’m not begging to manage your life.”
“But if all you want with me is to be nothing more than bed partners, then don’t bother talking—I don’t get into just anyone’s bed.”
Wu Heng’s throat tightened painfully. He forced the word “sorry” out from between clenched teeth.
“Then are we still together?” Xie Chongyi insisted on asking.
Wu Heng clenched his fingers and said, “Yes.”
At that moment, Xie Chongyi noticed that Wu Heng’s eye rims were visibly reddening. A sheen of moisture seeped out from beneath his eyelids, restrained and suppressed to an extreme degree. His expression barely changed—just like usual—the only sign of emotion being the tears on the verge of spilling over.
Xie Chongyi pulled him into his arms.
Wu Heng lowered his head and pressed his face against Xie Chongyi’s shoulder. The fabric gradually became damp and warm. In the darkness of his vision, he saw his own adolescence—he had never thought himself pitiable, nor had he ever felt lonely. He had his grandmother, he had Mengzhi, and he could still go to the hospital by himself when he was sick. He had imagined the day death would arrive: if he could be notified in advance, he thought he wouldn’t seek help from anyone. He would book the funeral home ahead of time, and his ashes wouldn’t need a place to return to.
It wasn’t that he had never brushed past Xie Chongyi at school, but he truly hadn’t expected Xie Chongyi to walk into his life like this. Even less had he expected that the affection of someone as arrogant and aloof as Xie Chongyi would be so intense—so overwhelming that it was impossible to resist.
Behind them at an angle, by the small wooden cabin, everyone had abandoned a whole table of food, detoured to the woodshed, and crowded behind a window, craning and jostling to watch the scene.
“These two brothers are really tight,” Liu Dongfan said with a sigh. “At times like this, real brothers are rare.”
“Uncle, your eyesight’s gone bad. This isn’t brotherhood,” Luo Lei said. “This is love.”
“Two men? How can that work?”
“Why can’t two men work?” Lin Mengzhi bristled the moment he heard that. He looked up at Liu Dongfan above him. “What’s the difference between a man and a woman? If one thing doesn’t work, can’t you use your mouth? Solutions are invented by people, being this conservative, I don’t see you becoming a monk either.”
Zhou Shan puckered his lips. “Exactly.”
Lin Mengzhi’s words made Liu Dongfan’s face darken. “Young man, show a little respect for the middle-aged and elderly.”
“Lin Mengzhi, when did this happen?” Shen Ping’an asked, staring at the muddy road in the distance. The two young men were undeniably easy on the eyes, yet he felt as if every muscle in his body had gone stiff; he couldn’t pull the corners of his mouth, couldn’t even manage an expression.
“When did it happen? I don’t know. I only found out yesterday too.” Despite calling them “damn gays” every other sentence, Lin Mengzhi was watching with obvious excitement. “A’Heng’s grown so much taller. He’s barely any shorter than the class monitor now. If it weren’t for those two beasts, he’d probably be a head taller than the class monitor already!”
“The class monitor is already 186 centimeters,” Ruan Silian couldn’t help laughing. “If A’Heng were another head taller, what would that even be?”
Lin Mengzhi wasn’t listening. His heart felt warm and full. Squatting on a pile of firewood, he propped his chin on his hands. “It’s finally A’Heng’s turn to be happy.”
Even if it was with a man—well, a man was a man. Someone like the class monitor wasn’t exactly easy to get. But his childhood friend was a treasure of the world. All things considered, it was the class monitor who’d married up.
“Let’s eat,” Shen Ping’an said, the first to climb down from the woodpile.
Outside the door, Wu Heng and Xie Chongyi entered the courtyard one after the other. Zhou Shan shyly opened the door for them, stealing a glance at Xie Chongyi and then looking back at Wu Heng. “So this is your boyfriend. You two look so good together, I’m really envious.”
“This is Zhou Shan,” Wu Heng said, wiping the mud off his shoes. “He already knew about you yesterday.”
Xie Chongyi paused for just a moment before understanding—Wu Heng hadn’t tried to hide their relationship.
The corner of his mouth lifted as he reached out his hand to Zhou Shan. “Hello, I’m Xie Chongyi.”
Zhou Shan, very mindful of boundaries, only brushed Xie Chongyi’s fingertips before snatching his hand back. He turned around awkwardly and heavily. “Let’s eat first, or it’ll all get cold.”
Yet in the brief moment it took Zhou Shan to turn around, the two people who had just been at the doorway cleaning off mud inexplicably vanished from the entrance.
Under the eaves outside, the others were separated from them by just a single wall—wooden boards at that—and the sounds of chairs being moved and bowls and chopsticks clinking inside were clearly audible.
Xie Chongyi cupped Wu Heng’s face, lowered his head, and bit gently at the corner of Wu Heng’s lips. His tongue traced along the seam of Wu Heng’s mouth, prying his teeth apart. Wu Heng was kissed into lifting his chin.
Xie Chongyi enveloped the slender Wu Heng in his arms, kissing him until he was gasping for breath.
By the time Wu Heng was slowly released, his waist had gone weak; a body in its blooming season simply couldn’t withstand such teasing.
Yet Xie Chongyi’s kisses continued to fall on his face like spring rain. Wu Heng looked into those pitch-black, abyss-like eyes, where a sense of aggression seemed to well up from some unknown black hole deep within—yet the words he spoke were coaxing, utterly at odds with the emotions in his gaze.
“Brother likes me too, right?”
Wu Heng hesitated for only two seconds, and Xie Chongyi’s smile deepened.
“Say you like me.”