Eaten Ch.187.1

Chapter 187.1: Typhoon

The octopus clung to the ceiling, moving at incredible speed. In the blink of an eye, its cold, damp, and soft tentacles spread all over above him and Lin Mengzhi.

Lin Mengzhi raised his hand, about to burn it with fire, but Wu Heng stopped him. “Too cruel.”

A small bright-yellow ball of light appeared in Wu Heng’s palm. After spinning twice, it suddenly dispersed, transforming into several beams of light that shot toward the octopus. The creature immediately swung all its tentacles to fend them off—

The sound of flesh being sliced open was unnervingly smooth. Wherever the beams touched, the flesh was cut apart as easily as mud, and segments of tentacles fell from the ceiling one after another.

Only one remained.

Dragging its large head, the octopus fled toward the kitchen’s ventilation window.

“Don’t run!” The boss broke free from the limp tentacles, grabbed the octopus’s head off the wall, and reached inside to pull out a dripping energy core.

Sweating profusely, he tossed the energy core into a cabinet, lifted his shirt to wipe his face hard a couple of times, then kicked the jelly-like octopus head. “Damn it, that thing almost strangled me to death.”

After speaking, he turned to the two customers at the door who had just helped him. “Thanks. But what kind of ability was that? I’ve never seen it before.”

“Light-type,” Wu Heng said, looking down at a tentacle that hadn’t completely lost its mobility—it had unknowingly wriggled to his feet.

“Light-type?!” The boss showed a surprised expression. “Isn’t that supposed to be useless?”

“It depends on how you use it.” Wu Heng casually stepped on a section of the tentacle.

The boss’s expression shifted to one of admiration as he walked over. “This octopus was sent from the market. They promised it’d be killed before delivery, but damn it, they sent me a live one.” As he spoke, he bent down, pulled the tentacle from under Wu Heng’s foot, and tossed it into the giant sink on the stove.

Wu Heng: “…”

Leaning against the doorframe, Lin Mengzhi said, “If we hadn’t been here today, wouldn’t you have just dropped dead in the kitchen?”

“Possible,” the boss said as he picked up the tentacles from the ground, gathering them one by one. “Just my bad luck. If my wife and daughter were home, would it have gotten the chance to strangle me?”

“Where did they go?”

“Heard some king crabs showed up in our waters, so they went out to sea.” The boss rambled on for quite a while before finally adding, “When they get back tonight, come by for a simple meal. No rice, but there’ll be plenty of seafood.”

Finally hearing what he wanted, Wu Heng nodded and turned to leave.

Changzhou lay by the sea. The wind and rain carried a damp, salty scent. The buildings here were more rudimentary than in other bases, but the city walls were distinctive—layer upon layer, rising high into the sky, with large shells embedded on the outside, glinting coldly.

Fifty li beyond the base lay the South Sea, but from within the base, all one could see was dense, lush forest. Above the treetops was daylight, yet within the woods it looked pitch-black, like deep night. In many places, tall fences had been set up—no need to think about it, they were definitely electrified.

“Rest for the night. We leave tomorrow morning,” Xue Shen informed everyone of his plan.

“I like it here. Can we stay a couple more days?”

“No.”

Wu Heng lay on a single bed without changing his clothes. A bird rested in the crook of his left arm, while Shukui lay in his right. In his hands, he held a comic book he had casually taken out from his spatial storage, but he wasn’t really reading it. Every ten or twenty minutes, he would glance out the window or toward the door.

It grew darker and darker. Black clouds and night pressed down over the base, and it seemed as though the sound of ocean waves echoed faintly in his ears.

Why hadn’t the boss come to call them for dinner yet?

Wu Heng simply got up, put on a windproof jacket, and sat by the window, keeping watch.

There were quite a few people on the streets. Compared to Meizhou—where people were filled with resentment, determined to drive out the plant symbiotes—Changzhou felt much calmer, with a steady, grounded rhythm of working at sunrise and resting at sunset.

Wu Heng sat by the window for a while and picked up bits of information from passersby.

The Winter Solstice was approaching, and people were preparing for the festival.

The variety of edible marine life in the nearby seas had increased more than tenfold compared to before.

There was no longer a fishing ban—people could fish as much as they wanted, as hard as they wanted.

There wouldn’t be a tsunami anytime soon; the seawater even seemed to have receded a little.

It was all good news. No wonder everyone in Changzhou Base looked so cheerful.

A dark figure was rapidly approaching from the distance. In just a few seconds, he reached the inn’s entrance. But before going in, as if guided by something, he suddenly looked up—and saw Wu Heng sitting by the fourth-floor window.

The entire window and even the eaves above it were filled with plants that had appeared from nowhere, surrounding the boy from behind and on both sides. The flowers on the branches were a rare black, and only the face in the center remained flawless and pale.

“Sang Qing, why are you back? Where are your aunt and your cousin?” the boss’s voice came from inside.

Sang Qing snapped back to his senses. He hurried inside, and not long after, the boss rushed out in a panic and climbed onto a shabby-looking three-wheeled vehicle parked at the entrance.

“Uncle, just stay home! Aunt and the others will definitely come back safely. You going will only make things worse!” The young man dragged the boss down from the vehicle.

Wu Heng and X, standing nearby, moved in perfect sync—both bending forward and craning their necks to watch the scene.

“That’s a storm out at sea!” the boss slapped his thigh. “No matter how capable your aunt is, can she fight against the heavens?”

Sang Qing was worried too. He had rushed back precisely to calm his uncle down—otherwise, with his uncle being so useless, who knew what foolish thing he might do if his aunt and cousin didn’t return for a long time? But even after telling him, it would still take quite some effort to pacify him. After shouting for silence several times, he raised his voice and said, “Uncle, can you please stop making us worry?”

The boss glared at Sang Qing, looking aggrieved.

After a long standoff, the boss threw out, “If they die, I won’t go on living either,” and went back inside.

Sang Qing stood there, panting heavily. After a moment, he let out a breath of relief. Only then did he remember to look up—the person above had been watching him the whole time.

Good-looking, able to afford staying at an inn, neatly dressed—he must be a powerful ability user.

In the apocalypse, it wasn’t unusual for people of the same sex to live together anymore. Life was hard, and most people weren’t picky—he’d been watching him for so long, he must like him. Sang Qing’s face flushed red, even his neck turning crimson.

“When will they be back?”

Sure enough, he was starting a conversation. Sang Qing grew even more certain of his guess.

“Should be soon,” the young man said. He had an honest-looking face, a tall and sturdy build, dark skin, and bright eyes. “Do you know my aunt?”

“No.”

“My aunt and my cousin are two of the strongest ability users in Changzhou Base.” Sang Qing lifted the corners of his mouth proudly.

Wu Heng lowered his head in thought, showing little reaction.

Sang Qing was about to say more when, from within the lush, dense plants, a clearly male arm suddenly stretched out and wrapped around the boy’s waist. His body tilted back, offering no resistance as he was pulled into the room through the window. The large parrot beside him also slipped back inside.

—

Xie Chongyi had just woken up. Still lying on the bed, he listened for a while to Wu Heng’s conversation with the person downstairs. In his opinion, it was pointless and uninteresting.

After pulling him into the room, Xie Chongyi gathered Wu Heng’s loose long hair and, with a mischievous intent, pinched the pierced hole in his earlobe.

The sharp, tingling pain shot through Wu Heng’s entire body.

Wu Heng looked at Xie Chongyi with displeasure. Xie Chongyi tilted his head and kissed the corner of his lips, his hand resting on his abdomen. “My stomach’s completely empty.”

The others were still catching up on sleep, so Wu Heng went downstairs with Xie Chongyi, along with the dog and the bird, to look for food.

The boss turned out to be a man of his word. Even though he was clearly in no mood for anything, the moment he heard them ask where they could buy food, he immediately said he would cook for them himself.

“Sang Qing, go—cook something for these two guests.”

The first floor of the inn doubled as a small dining hall. Some people came here just to eat, so the kitchen was no longer empty. There was a dedicated cook in charge, and at the entrance stood a crude wooden sign, with words written in charred wood:

Assorted fish, octopus available today. Green vegetables available. Pork and pork offal available.

Customers would stand at the entrance, place their orders, then find an empty table to sit at. After that, they would take out their own utensils and water from cloth bags or backpacks—clearly, the place didn’t have the means to provide those.

Wu Heng and Xie Chongyi found a seat by the window. Neither of them had utensils or brought water, and together with the dog and the bird squatting on either side of the table, they stared at the completely empty tabletop.

“Want to go to the seaside after eating?” Xie Chongyi suddenly asked.

Wu Heng nodded without thinking. “Okay.”

Xie Chongyi paused slightly, then propped his chin on his hands and raised his brows. “I’ll drive?”

“Okay.”

“But I’m not very good at driving.”

“…” Wu Heng fell silent for a moment, his eyelashes fluttering like small fans. “It’s fine.”

At that moment, Sang Qing came out of the kitchen carrying a large basin of food with both hands. Steam was still rising from it. Through the drifting white mist, he saw the person ahead seeming to smile faintly—the gloomy, inhuman aura from when he sat at the window had completely disappeared.

The young man, his dark face flushed with a hint of red, bent down and carefully placed the basin on the small square table between them.

The steam was quickly blown out the window. He turned to look at the other person whose face he hadn’t clearly seen before.

The moment he saw him, the young man sharply sucked in a breath—he was also… incredibly good-looking. In the dim light, his eyes were soft and bright, but before Sang Qing could fully take in that warmth, a sharp, chilling coldness hit him first.

Sang Qing was also an ability user. His level wasn’t high, but it was more than enough for making a living by gathering seafood along the shore. Yet when facing the young man before him, it felt as if his flesh and bones had been frozen apart for an instant—

This was an ability user of terrifying strength.

Seeing that Sang Qing was about to turn his gaze back to Wu Heng, Xie Chongyi raised his hand toward him and curled his fingers in a beckoning motion, smiling kindly. “Look here.”

“What is this?” Xie Chongyi pointed at the basin.

“Oh, oh,” Sang Qing immediately explained, “pan-fried octopus, made with corn batter and chopped ice plant leaves.”

“Corn seeds from Jingzhou?” Wu Heng wrinkled his nose. One bad taste was enough to remember for a lifetime.

“Yeah. Regular corn can’t be cultivated anymore, so Jingzhou sent us an improved variety. It can be harvested once a month, but it’s not as sweet as corn used to be—the sugar content is too low. I didn’t even have the heart to add it for you.”

“…” Wu Heng picked up the wooden chopsticks Sang Qing had brought over and hesitantly took a small bite. What he happened to pick up was a thin slice of octopus leg, coated in a crispy corn batter. With one bite, it was tender and springy; then came the refreshing crispness of the ice plant. There was almost no saltiness, but it suited the boy’s taste perfectly.

“It’s really good.” This time, Wu Heng took a big bite. He ate meat every day, so suddenly having seafood with a lighter flavor made him eat several bites in a row.

In just a blink, a third of the basin was gone. When Sang Qing looked at Wu Heng again, his expression sobered quite a bit.

“There’s plenty of octopus today. I’ll go make some more—you take your time eating.”

Sang Qing jogged back into the kitchen, and Wu Heng once again lowered his chopsticks into the stainless-steel basin.

The rim of the basin was full of dents and scratches—it was clearly some piece of scrap picked up from who knew where. The utensils on the other tables were similarly worn and mismatched.

“Wu Heng,” Xie Chongyi called, looking at the person across from him. Wu Heng had his head lowered, holding his chopsticks and carefully poking around in the basin.

“Mm.” By now, Wu Heng had picked out a suitably sized piece of octopus leg. He lifted it, stretched out his arm, and directly fed it into Xie Chongyi’s mouth. “Class Monitor, it’s really good. You should try it too.”

Xie Chongyi stared at Wu Heng for a moment, then suddenly lowered his head and smiled.

He smiled—and dragged things out—so he ended up eating very little. Wu Heng seized the chance to stuff another big bite into his own mouth. After swallowing, he pretended nothing had happened. “What are you laughing at?”

Xie Chongyi had never been as fond of eating as Wu Heng, nor did he have much of an appetite. Everything tasted more or less the same to him anyway. He swallowed without really savoring it, then settled into a casual, conversational posture.

They sat extremely close—so close that the small square table seemed almost encircled by their long legs.

“Wu Heng,” the boy called his full name again. There was more to his words, his tone turning inquisitive. “When I like you… does it make you want to cry?”

Wu Heng lowered his head, stuffing octopus into his mouth, and shot him a glance. “In bed? A little.”

“…” After a moment of silence, Xie Chongyi shook his head slowly. “Outside of bed.”

This time, Wu Heng didn’t answer as quickly. But in the end, he still nodded.

Xie Chongyi’s voice turned frighteningly gentle. “Describe it.”

Wu Heng didn’t respond immediately. He took a few more small bites before speaking slowly, “It’s like when a typhoon comes, and I’m in the eye of it.”

“And like when it’s raining heavily in the jungle, and I’m inside a tent, sleeping well… that kind of feeling.”

Xie Chongyi smiled even more, but Wu Heng caught the glimmer of moisture sliding from the upper part of his pupil down to his lower eyelid. He pondered for a moment, choosing neither to expose it nor to comment.

Sang Qing had been peeking from the doorframe for quite a while before finally pulling his head back. He grabbed a section of octopus leg as thick as a waist from the sink and slammed it onto the prep table with a bang.

They weren’t just the kind of men who slept together—they were lovers. It was easy to tell.

If Sang Qing had still harbored even a trace of romantic fantasy before, watching the two of them take turns feeding each other with chopsticks almost wiped it out completely.

And when the big bird and the greyhound revealed their astonishing appetites, any lingering thoughts vanished entirely—

The octopus, weighing over a ton, had been chopped up and piled into a small mountain in the corner of the kitchen. Its volume was shrinking at a visible rate. Sang Qing cooked until he was drenched in sweat, completely unable to keep up with how fast they were eating.

Sang Qing had no choice. Several dark, slick, thick tentacles extended from behind him, and he began multitasking—some frying, some mixing, some stir-frying. The cook working at the nearby stove was dazzled by the chaotic efficiency.

By the time the four outside were completely fed, Sang Qing had already collapsed from exhaustion in the kitchen.

At this point, even if they wanted to pursue him, he wouldn’t agree. With appetites like that, there was no way he could afford to keep them fed.

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