Eaten Ch.134

Chapter 134: Forced to Bloom

“Sorry, we’ve already had dinner. If you want to eat now, you’ll have to make it yourselves.” Lin Mengzhi lay under a blanket like a puddle of sludge, a large pile of energy cores at his side waiting to be absorbed and digested. He’d charged himself up so much that his face was glowing red.

“We had lean meat soup and pan-fried vegetable pancakes for dinner,” Ruan Silian said as she climbed down from her chair. “There should still be some left in the kitchen.”

Xie Chongyi rolled up his sleeves. “I’ll go ask Wu Heng if he wants to eat.”

He went back to the study, and when he came out again, he was carrying a basket of eggs whose shells faintly glowed.

At the sight of it, Lin Mengzhi sat bolt upright, and even the listless Zhou Shan perked up.

“Holy crap, Class Monitor, where did you get eggs?!” Lin Mengzhi followed right on Xie Chongyi’s heels into the kitchen, looking dazed. “Give me one.”

Eggs were a luxury now. The production chain had long since broken—no one knew where the farm chickens had gone, and mutant chickens’ eggs required risking your life to snatch, which wasn’t worth it. And forget eggs—since the apocalypse, you hardly ever even saw chickens.

“Wu Heng gave them to me,” Xie Chongyi said, standing in the kitchen. This kitchen had been custom-built to Zhou Shan’s size, so it felt extremely spacious to an average person.

Even with Lin Mengzhi circling around Xie Chongyi, there was still plenty of room left over.

Xie Chongyi held out a piece of firewood toward Lin Mengzhi. Lin Mengzhi froze for a moment, then ignited it.

“Then boil me an egg.”

When Lin Mengzhi saw Xie Chongyi crack the eggs one by one into a bowl, he leaned over. “What are you making?”

“Steamed egg custard.”

“Wow, what kind of dish is that? I don’t think I’ve ever had it.”

“You have.”

“I haven’t.” Lin Mengzhi was practically drooling. “Are you sure you don’t want to bribe me? That’s not what they teach you on TV.”

Xie Chongyi didn’t even lift his eyelids. “What use would bribing you be?”

“……”

“I’ll badmouth you to A’Heng,” Lin Mengzhi said, bracing himself against the counter.

“If I’m not mistaken,” Xie Chongyi replied, then glanced at Lin Mengzhi, his eyes full of knowing, “you’ve already done that.”

The method for making steamed egg custard was simple. Not long after the water came to a boil, the beaten eggs began to set. Xie Chongyi stood by the pot, not moving an inch—nor did Lin Mengzhi.

“Aren’t you going to keep A’Heng company?” Lin Mengzhi asked, puzzled.

“No rush. I’ll go once the egg custard is done.”

“You’re afraid I’ll steal a bite, aren’t you? Can you not think of me as that lowly? I’m not so desperate that I’d sneak eggs.”

When the egg custard was ready, a bowl was held out in front of Xie Chongyi. Outside the door, a dog stared longingly, as did a bird.

And behind them was a whole room full of people.

It wasn’t scarcity that bred resentment, but inequality—so Xie Chongyi gave it to no one.

“Wow, wow, wow…” Lin Mengzhi trailed after Xie Chongyi all the way until he was shut out of the study. Cradling an empty bowl, he returned to his seat. X and Shukui sat on either side of him, both having gotten nothing as well.

“Why didn’t you go ask the class monitor for some? Don’t you want to eat?”

“We do,” Shen Ping’an said, “but we know our place.”

No sooner had he finished speaking than Xie Chongyi came out of the study again.

“Is there any water?” he asked.

Before Shen Ping’an or Ruan Silian could answer, Lin Mengzhi had already set down his bowl and stood up. “There’s some in the kitchen.”

Only after Xie Chongyi left their sight again, carrying a basin of water, did Lin Mengzhi sit back down. And only then did he realize something was off. If he wanted water, fine—but why bring it into the room? He exchanged looks with the others at the table, his heart pounding wildly. “Whoa—”

Wu Heng didn’t sit down at the desk to eat until after he’d been cleaned up. His body didn’t hurt; the sensation was just strange, as if something were still stuck behind him—but that had to be an illusion. Xie Chongyi had cleaned him thoroughly, even showing him what had been removed.

The other sat across from him, quietly taking bite after bite of the pan-fried pancake. Not far behind him was the glass window, rain trickling down it, and beyond that, a misty green expanse.

“This is what I used to imagine the future would be like,” Wu Heng said, scooping up a spoonful of egg custard and bringing it to his mouth.

“But the future I imagined had no romance and no friends. It was just a small place that belonged to me—no rules I had to obey, no one barging into my room at any time, no need to worry about being beaten, and no need to worry about going hungry.” Wu Heng spoke calmly. “In my plan, once I got into college, I would be able to make that wish come true.”

“Class Monitor, even if you betray me someday, just having this one moment is enough for me to make sure you die a little more nicely—mmph!” Xie Chongyi reached out and covered his mouth.

“Eat,” Xie Chongyi said.

Only after Wu Heng blinked did Xie Chongyi slowly lower his hand. But suddenly, Wu Heng’s features loomed larger before his eyes, and then a kiss carrying the rich scent of eggs landed on his lips.

“Eat,” Wu Heng said after sitting back down, picking up his chopsticks.

After the meal, Wu Heng, dressed in clean sleepwear and holding a map under his arm, walked to the door of the study. Ignoring everyone’s scrutiny, he spread the map out on the table. “We may need to change the route. The destination is being changed to Siwangzhidi.”

“So we don’t have to go to Yaozhou anymore?” Ruan Silian looked at the new markings on the map. “But even if we skip Yaozhou, we still have to pass through Shenjian.”

“Go here?” Lin Mengzhi sprawled over the map, studying it carefully. “This area’s huge.”

“We’ll also pass through Hanzhou,” Ruan Silian said with a smile. “We can even go home and take a look.”

Lin Mengzhi’s expression suddenly dimmed. “I want to dig my grandma up and take her with us. Honestly, I don’t have much attachment to that place—I only have my grandma and A’Heng. As long as we stay together, that’s enough.”

“We’ll go back for a trip then,” Wu Heng said.

By the window, Wang Meixia and the others felt an increasingly tangled mix of emotions. They were all from Yaozhou. If Wu Heng changed the destination to that so-called Siwangzhidi, then after crossing the Shenjian, they would split up—one group heading west, the other south. In such a short time, they had already faced several life-and-death crises firsthand. Without ability users accompanying them, it could be said they had no chance of ever making it back to their hometowns.

Indecision would only make things worse. Wang Meixia dug her nails into her knees until they hurt, then dragged her chair over beside Ruan Silian. “I’m going with you!”

Behind her, Liu Dongfan was startled.

So was everyone else.

Wang Meixia smoothed her hair, as if having made up her mind about something. She looked at Wu Heng, then quickly avoided his gaze and said, “Old Liu and I definitely can’t make it back to Yaozhou on our own. We might as well go with you. There are only a few of you, and you’re heading to such a huge place—you’ll surely need people to help with the work. Even though Old Liu and I aren’t, um, ability users, we’ve lived to this age and have life experience. I used to be an accountant; I can handle bookkeeping and accounts.”

“As for Old Liu, he used to work in HR before retiring. Don’t be fooled by how he only lifts a camera and snaps photos now—he’s serious when it comes to work.” Wang Meixia shook off Liu Dongfan’s tugging hand behind her and continued, “We’ll work, and we don’t want any pay. All we ask is that once you’ve settled down, you can send someone to take us home.” By the end, she was already holding back tears.

After listening, Wu Heng pulled out a chair and slowly sat down. “You want us to be responsible for your safety and your food. You’re an accountant—you of all people should know the value of those two things nowadays.”

Wang Meixia’s face stiffened, and she couldn’t squeeze out a single word.

“I’ll accept you following us,” Wu Heng went on, “but when the time comes, I won’t send anyone to escort you back to Yaozhou. I don’t have the authority to assign people. However, if you can find someone willing to take you back to Yaozhou…”

Wang Meixia burst into tears of joy. “Yes, yes, that’s fine! We’ll figure it out ourselves when the time comes—we won’t trouble you!”

At that moment, Liu Dongfan darkened his face and almost dragged Wang Meixia out the door.

Their hushed argument drifted back into the room.

Liu Dongfan was clearly the one who spoke first, panting heavily. “What’s wrong with you? Once we get past Shenjian, can’t we just go back ourselves? It’s only a bit over two hundred kilometers—can’t we walk that far? Following them to that… what is it, Siwangzhidi—just listen to that name. If you go there, do you think you’ll still come out alive? And have you lost your mind? Your kid is still in Yaozhou!”

“Why are you yelling? Do you really think we could make it back to Yaozhou on our own? And don’t even mention the kid—I have to stay alive to go find him. If I’m dead on the road, how am I supposed to look for him?”

“So you’ll be able to go then?”

“Don’t act like I don’t see—this boy can risk his life to protect others. People like him, no matter how bad, aren’t really bad. If you treat him well, he’ll naturally treat you well too. With a brain like yours, no wonder you ended up working for a boss who didn’t even pay!”

“Here we go again… you’re still on about that old nonsense? Huh? Even if he didn’t pay, didn’t I make money taking photos for people?”

“The money I’m talking about is—…”

The room fell silent except for the crackling of the firewood.

Lin Mengzhi scratched his head. “Feels just like back in the neighborhood.”

Zhou Shan nodded in agreement. “Yeah, the tourists back then were just like this. They’d be playing around and suddenly start arguing, digging up old grudges all the way back to before marriage.”

Lin Mengzhi suddenly turned to Wu Heng. “You and the class monitor, did you fight like this in the morning too?”

“….” Wu Heng found it hard to imagine himself arguing like that with Xie Chongyi. He quietly denied it, then said, “Once the rain stops, we’ll set out. When it rains lightly over the next couple of days, we can go check nearby areas and gather as many supplies as possible.”

A chorus of “Yes” echoed in response.

“Ruan Silian, you don’t need to come,” Wu Heng said, rolling up the map.

“Girls, huh? Got it,” Zhou Shan said with a wink.

Wu Heng didn’t reply. He wasn’t concerned with gender; men and women were the same to him—maybe just a little different in scent. Ruan Silian wasn’t excluded because she was a girl.

…

Wu Heng found plenty of books to read from Zhou Shan: beekeeping, flower identification, land planning. Doctor Chen had also given him a thick stack of hand-drawn herbal guides.

On a fresh sheet of paper, he traced the outline of Siwangzhidi again. He treated it like the little house he had once imagined, slowly arranging and decorating it piece by piece in his mind.

Footsteps sounded behind him, followed by Xie Chongyi’s voice.

“You’ll share a room with Lin Mengzhi.”

In response came the fluttering of wings.

Xie Chongyi leaned against the doorframe, lowering his gaze at the dog and the bird trying to follow him into the study. Unmoved, he closed the door.

Shukui stepped back two paces and barked twice at the door.

X was scooped up by Lin Mengzhi, who had walked over. “Don’t be so clueless. From now on, you sleep with me. Once I’ve found someone, you’ll go sleep outside.”

Wu Heng’s shoulder was steadied by a hand. He didn’t even lift his head before a warm kiss landed at his ear. He didn’t have to turn—his lips were captured, moistened and warmed by suction, his jaw pried open, and his entire body was pressed into the chair.

Even just the kiss alone was enough to leave Wu Heng breathless.

The pen in his hand was taken away by Xie Chongyi. Wu Heng’s head was tilted back completely. Xie Chongyi leaned in, his tongue naturally sliding deeper. Wu Heng swallowed, feeling his breathing constricted, his hands instinctively pressing against Xie Chongyi’s shoulders in resistance.

Caught off guard, their eyes met. Xie Chongyi’s eyes were a pure black—but not still. Within them flowed a dark river, surging silently.

Xie Chongyi pressed Wu Heng down against the edge of the desk with one hand, forcing him to lean over the surface.

Before Wu Heng could react, he felt a chill along his back—Xie Chongyi’s palm had gripped his waist.

Xie Chongyi’s shoulders were broader than Wu Heng’s. He covered him from behind, kissed the back of his neck, then spoke close to his ear, “I hope it keeps raining, until the Earth is destroyed, until we’ve tried every possible position.”

As he spoke, his hand traced along Wu Heng’s forearm until it reached the back of his hand. His fingers slipped between Wu Heng’s, prying open the grip on the desk. Wu Heng’s body lost support and trembled uncontrollably.

At that moment, Xie Chongyi sank his teeth into the flesh at the back of Wu Heng’s neck. Without any warning, a sudden, sharp fragrance burst from Wu Heng’s body.

Both of them were still fully dressed. Wu Heng’s pale neck was slick with sweat. He pressed his forehead against the cold tabletop, panting in shallow gasps, yet felt no relief. He felt as though he were teetering on the edge of death, yet somehow still far from it.

Breathing was a struggle—every inhalation brought less than half a second of ease before it was scattered, replaced by the suffocating force pressing in.

He could only part his lips, letting broken sounds and breath escape unimpeded, drifting freely without the barrier of teeth.

The table was the same height as in the kitchen, designed for Zhou Shan’s build. Even though Wu Heng was taller, he still couldn’t match Zhou Shan. His toes didn’t reach the floor; most of his body sprawled across the table, and the pant legs had slipped down from his calves.

The flowering season of plants was much the same—flowers bloomed boldly and vividly, waiting for bees, butterflies, or other small creatures to pollinate them.

Humans, animals, plants—none could escape this process.

The only difference was that humans had some self-control, whereas plants and animals were slaves to instinct.

Green vines coiled around Wu Heng’s waist, gliding over Xie Chongyi’s firm abdomen, along his spine, finally nestling at the side of Xie Chongyi’s neck.

Wu Heng’s mouth was covered. Outside, rain pattered; inside, water trickled. He felt nailed to the table. From the corner of his eye, he caught the tabletop’s moving shadows, shifting from human form to the silhouette of a huge insect, then back to human.

“Ok… okay,” Wu Heng said with difficulty.

He struggled just once, then slipped free.

Before Xie Chongyi could react, he lifted his leg to leave, nearly collapsing to the floor.

Xie Chongyi, displeased, scooped him up and dropped him in front of a chair. Wu Heng held onto the chair back, but as soon as he furrowed his brow, Xie Chongyi wrapped him tightly from behind.

“This works too,” the boy muttered, “though now you have to hold yourself up.”

Wu Heng didn’t even realize when his hands had let go of the chair back. He was held completely from behind, his hands twisted behind him, knees planted on the chair, and something cold and wet had slid down to soak his feet, nearly throwing him off balance several times.

He also didn’t know when he had fallen asleep.

When he woke, daylight had already broken. Outside, Lin Mengzhi was trailing after Shen Ping’an, loudly fussing while carrying a bag full of green wild fruits.

“If they’re not ripe, why can’t we eat them? If we can’t eat them raw, can’t we at least make soup?”

Squinting, Wu Heng turned over. For once, he felt some soreness in his waist—a rare sensation.

Xie Chongyi hadn’t woken yet, still holding him tightly with one arm around his waist.

Wu Heng raised his eyes and could only see Xie Chongyi’s narrowed eyes—long eyelashes, though not pitch black, which intensified the usual coldness in his gaze.

But when engaged in certain matters, the boy was anything but cold. He spoke little, yet the heat he radiated was undeniable. His style leaned toward fierce and brutal rather than distant and indifferent.

A gentle warmth of energy flowed across Wu Heng’s palms. He lowered his eyes, anticipating that after this flowering season, the power of the poppies would reach a new qualitative breakthrough.

So, for him, romance actually had benefits. His flowers had, in essence, been forced to bloom by Xie Chongyi.

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**TN

Siwangzhidi (死亡之地) – Land of Death, Deathground