Eaten Ch.133

Chapter 133: “…live to see the day the sky clears”

Beyond his nastiness, Wu Heng also came to think, deep down, that Xie Chongyi was mercurial—skilled at switching faces in an instant.

After he’d been pinched until he blurted out a muddled “I like you,” Xie Chongyi, still holding his face, bit his lips. The corner of his mouth clearly split—there was a sting. The sweet, metallic taste of blood spread across their lips and between their teeth.

They both heard each other swallow.

Wu Heng reached up, hooked an arm around the back of Xie Chongyi’s neck, pulled him closer, and used his tongue to pry open Xie Chongyi’s lips. He swept away the sweet-metallic film on the surface, but at the teeth—Xie Chongyi was biting down tight.

“Why won’t you open your mouth?” Wu Heng let his hand fall, puzzled.

Xie Chongyi smiled, leaned in closer. “Ah~”

They stopped kissing. Wu Heng turned to go back inside.

Xie Chongyi dragged him back, pressed him against the wallboards again. He kissed along Wu Heng’s jaw and said, “I opened the door for you, why aren’t you coming in now?”

His fingers gently kneaded the back of Wu Heng’s head, pinning him so he couldn’t move at all. His tongue slid into Wu Heng’s mouth; this time the kiss was heavy, drawing an uncomfortable muffled hum from Wu Heng. After pulling back for a few seconds, he murmured, “So fragrant,” “So sweet,” and then thrust his tongue back into Wu Heng’s mouth again.

From the corner of his eye, Wu Heng caught sight of X and Shukui— the bird perched on the dog’s back, one dog and one bird staring with eyes equally wide.

“Dinner,” X said.

Someone must have taught him that line—only the teacher hadn’t shown up.

Back at the table, everyone had their own thoughts, and for a moment no one spoke.

Lin Mengzhi was the first to lift his bowl. “A bowl to toast the newlyweds.”

The atmosphere lightened. Ruan Silian shot Xie Chongyi a teasing smile. “Class Monitor, you and A’Heng…”

“We’re dating,” Xie Chongyi said calmly. He put a piece of some animal’s rib—who knew which—into Wu Heng’s bowl, set down his chopsticks, and stated it plainly.

Shen Ping’an, meanwhile, added two meatballs to Wu Heng’s bowl. “Back in school, you two hardly interacted at all.”

“If you date while you’re still in school, you should be calling the parents.”

Lin Mengzhi, however, had his curiosity piqued by Shen Ping’an. He waved his hand and kept saying hypothetically, hypothetically, hypothetically: “If the apocalypse hadn’t happened, do you think you two would’ve ever gotten together?”

Back then, Xie Chongyi’s background was in Jingzhou. His close friends, the twin brothers Big Xue and Little Xue, were likewise from prominent families. They weren’t people from the same world as the others—let alone the fact that Xie Chongyi and Wu Heng had personalities that were poles apart.

“Impossible,” Wu Heng answered.

If not for Lin Mengzhi, then without the apocalypse, to each other they would all, in the end, have only been high school classmates who lived on in memory.

But this kind of hypothetical was precisely what was truly impossible for them now.

“When are you heading back to Jingzhou, Class Monitor?” Shen Ping’an asked.

Xie Chongyi looked at Wu Heng’s lashes, fluttering like a small fan, then lower at the pale pink of his lips. Absentmindedly, he replied, “When the rain stops. Flying a helicopter in the rain scares me.”

“……”

“Didn’t it rain yesterday? There was a torrential downpour last night!” Lin Mengzhi said.

“Didn’t feel like it was raining when I came.”

Lin Mengzhi began to reassess Xie Chongyi. He’d always thought the class monitor was a proper, upright sort of person, but now it seemed not only was he anything but proper—his ability to lie with a straight face might even put Lin Mengzhi himself to shame. At the very least, Lin Mengzhi felt guilty after lying.

But the class monitor didn’t. The class monitor made him start doubting himself—was there really not a record-breaking downpour last night?

In fact, it had rained last night. The rain fell long and lingering, inevitably reminding them of the rainy seasons before the apocalypse. Back then, experts had confidently insisted that in Earth’s evolutionary history, only the Triassic period had seen a rainy season lasting two million years—and that had occurred under conditions of frequent volcanic activity. With no such signs now, the rainy season couldn’t possibly last that long.

Yet what made it feel similar wasn’t the duration, but the helplessness of sensing that an entire century was about to be brought to an end. The Triassic had ended with a diluvial event, ushering in the age of dinosaurs. So what era would come next for them now? Had humanity, too, reached the moment of exiting the stage?

Wu Heng sat in the study, using pens of different colors to plan out his kingdom.

“Build city walls around the miasma forest—or a moat. Or dig through and widen it into a canal. Inward, it can generate power, irrigate, and prevent flooding; outward, it can transport goods and serve as defense. But it has to connect to the nearby sea,” Wu Heng thought. He needed an earth-type ability user—or a water-type.

He looked up toward Xie Chongyi, who was lying on the bed catching up on sleep. “Class Monitor, can you give me the class rep?”

Xie Chongyi said, “What can you offer him?”

Wu Heng leaned back against the chair. “I should be able to cure Xue Qi’s leg.”

“I thought you’d say you’d give him energy cores.”

“Different people, different prices.” Wu Heng wasn’t especially close to Xue Shen, but he knew that Xue Qi’s leg had always been a thorn in his heart, a festering tumor.

Xie Chongyi closed his eyes, one hand covering half his face. “That’s harder for him to refuse than money.”

Or rather, faced with the condition Wu Heng was offering, Xue Shen simply wouldn’t be able to refuse at all.

“But it’d still be best to find an earth-type ability user. You’ll need one in a lot of places later.”

“Class Monitor?”

“You want me to find people for you—what price are you offering me?”

Wu Heng twirled the pen for a long while, then bent back over the map. “If the plains beyond the forest are all used for crops, then diverting water for irrigation will be very convenient.”

“Given how the various bases are developing right now, it’s not very realistic to put all the land to use,” Xie Chongyi said.

“Food is the first necessity of the people,” Wu Heng replied. Food had to come first.

“Siwangzhidi is desolate and uninhabited—you’re short on manpower. If you plan to handle everything personally, that’s actually a waste of your abilities.” Xie Chongyi opened his eyes and looked at Wu Heng for a moment, then threw back the covers and got out of bed. He walked to the desk, leaned in, took the pen from Wu Heng’s hand, and circled several nearby bases on the map.

“These bases aren’t as strategically located as Siwangzhidi, but each one has hundreds of thousands of people. Along the southern coastal bases, the total population reaches millions. Yet right now, none of these bases have fully met the basic physiological needs of the lowest-tier survivors. If your territory can provide what others can’t, what they can’t give, word will spread on its own, and people will come in waves.”

“Talent recruitment,” Wu Heng said softly, looking at the map. “I don’t want to raise that many people.” The poppy could stay satisfied for a long time after a single meal; he couldn’t handle so many.

“Right now, it’s just a matter of trade or employment,” Xie Chongyi said, hooking a finger under Wu Heng’s chin. “But if you want to monopolize Siwangzhidi, establish a Wu Heng Kingdom… that’s a different story.”

“I haven’t thought that far yet,” Wu Heng replied.

“It could take months to travel there. Be careful.”

“And you?”

“Would you give up entering Siwangzhidi for me?” Xie Chongyi asked, lowering his hand.

“No.”

“Neither would I,” Xie Chongyi said, eyes cast down but covering Wu Heng with his gaze. “So it’s best if we don’t give up our ideals for each other—they can coexist. I just hope we both live to see the day the sky clears.”

Wu Heng, distracted by Xie Chongyi, murmured, “Thank you.”

“By the way, I get four days off every month. If I complete work targets well, I can add two more. I’ll save them up to come find you,” Xie Chongyi said, his hand drifting to Wu Heng’s neck and hair.

Wu Heng nodded. “Alright.”

Their breaths tangled together. Wu Heng had intended to keep looking at the map, but he couldn’t push Xie Chongyi away. The other’s kiss landed on his ear—ticklish. Wu Heng instinctively tilted his head to dodge, and Xie Chongyi, as if having executed a perfect scheme, bit his face hard.

“Ha, so you really don’t like me, huh?”

“?”

“Otherwise, why would you try to dodge?”

Xie Chongyi, taking advantage of the moment, successfully claimed Wu Heng’s seat. He pulled Wu Heng onto his lap, loosened his collar, and let his kisses trail up along Wu Heng’s neck, finally pressing against his lips and nuzzling, grinding gently.

Probably out of affection, and perhaps because it was their first romance, Xie Chongyi couldn’t sleep even lying in bed. Being alone in the room with Wu Heng, all he wanted was to hold him, to kiss him repeatedly—until Wu Heng’s defenses melted away, until his cold, gloomy demeanor softened, becoming pliant.

When Wu Heng enjoyed himself, it was like savoring a fine meal. His usual coldness and aloofness vanished; even his words sounded sweet and pleasing, enough alone to excite Xie Chongyi and satisfy him.

The vine, in its natural state, only emerged uncontrollably under intense stimulation. Soft and verdant, it crept along the edge of the desk.

Its green veins ran from Wu Heng’s chest up to the side of his neck; a tendril emerged from his collarbone hollow, swaying gently. It was the flowering season for the symbiotic plant.

Wu Heng clenched Xie Chongyi’s arm, trying with all his strength, but as a plant symbiont, whenever the flowering season came, any touch made the vine surrender with him, collapsing softly.

He looked at Xie Chongyi. “Don’t use your hands.”

He came by himself.

Wu Heng was truly trembling. It was unlike what he had imagined, unlike when Xie Chongyi used his hands—hands that were considerate, delicate, and gentle. This was different: more active, firmer, impossible to ignore.

He gritted his teeth; even the vine’s body stiffened and tensed in that instant.

Wu Heng placed his feet on the floor on either side of Xie Chongyi’s legs, supporting himself on Xie Chongyi’s shoulders. He noticed the veins on his forehead and his deep, dark eyes. “Class Monitor, you’re having a hard time too, aren’t you?”

Having said that, he stood up—clearly signaling a stop.

Xie Chongyi, however, had already discovered a new source of pleasure. He yanked Wu Heng back, lifting him horizontally and tossing him onto the bed. By the time Wu Heng reacted, Xie Chongyi had already removed his jacket, balled it up, and tucked it beneath Wu Heng’s waist.

“It doesn’t matter if it gets dirty—I’ll just wear it back in Jingzhou,” Xie Chongyi said, his hand pressing against Wu Heng’s hips without hesitation.

If an ability user couldn’t handle even this, it would be laughable.

But the initial discomfort was unavoidable.

Xie Chongyi leaned over, kissing Wu Heng’s sweat-dampened face continuously, until Wu Heng softened again. The vines, which had been tightly coiled around the window bars, loosened and slumped onto the windowsill, the flower buds trembling.

At first, Wu Heng only felt pain, but once it passed, a hunger surged in his abdomen. Flecks of red appeared in his gray-green eyes. He reached out to wrap his arms around Xie Chongyi’s neck, consuming all the part Xie Chongyi had hesitated to push in.

Xie Chongyi sank his teeth into Wu Heng’s neck. Blood coursed outward through the veins. The vines didn’t know what to do—they tried to coil around Wu Heng, but a sudden jolt ruined their grip.

Wu Heng was nearly pierced through. His mouth was covered, while above him, scarlet eyes stared greedily and intently.

The vine tendrils hung like green waves along the edge of the bed, sprawling across the floor. The buds gradually opened, layer by layer, like black silk, soft yet vibrant.

But soon, they began to droop, swaying left and right, unable to hold themselves upright.

In one position, when Xie Chongyi finally released him, Wu Heng’s stomach churned violently; the impact made him gag.

Xie Chongyi’s fingers slid down along Wu Heng’s waistline. “Your stamina is better than I imagined.”

“What time is it?” Wu Heng asked, glancing back at the window. The sky had already darkened. He tried to recall the past hours in disbelief—and realized that a stretch of time was missing; he had lost consciousness.

Xie Chongyi pulled away, holding Wu Heng’s ankle as he lifted his left leg. “It’s okay. No injuries.”

Wu Heng tried to speak, but having just exerted himself, his voice wouldn’t come out. Xie Chongyi helped him to his feet—not to get dressed, but to press him into a roughly forceful kiss.

After the kiss, Xie Chongyi put on his pants, grabbed his jacket from the bed, and raised an eyebrow at Wu Heng. “You’re amazing… I can’t wear this anymore.”

Wu Heng’s ears flushed red, but his face remained expressionless.

“I’m hungry.”

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