Chapter 193: Children
The jeep was the large kind, but even so, it wasn’t quite enough for Xie Chongyi to lie completely flat across the seat.
Fortunately, he wasn’t dead—his body was still soft. Wu Heng easily bent his long legs and even pulled a sponge pillow from his space to cushion his head.
Wu Heng crouched in front of him. Xie Chongyi had mentioned several times that he’d grown taller, but in truth, Wu Heng himself had also grown quite a bit.
Outside, someone was cooking. Wu Heng took out a measuring tape and measured Xie Chongyi from head to toe. After a moment, he pulled the tape taut and lowered his head to read the number.
191.
After crouching there for a few seconds, Wu Heng climbed out through the window. He bent slightly, standing on the ground outside, pinning one end of the tape under the tip of his shoe. Then he straightened up, pulling it up to the top of his head. He pressed a finger to mark the spot level with his crown and squinted as he looked up.
At that moment, a patch of sunlight fell across his face, and the tape cast a faint gray line that split his bright face in two.
180.
Well, although he was still far from the class monitor, he was much taller than before. No wonder the shoes he used to wear now felt tight.
Besides, he was a plant. When next spring came, he could grow even more.
Though, he didn’t need to grow every spring—just enough to surpass the class monitor would be perfect. There was no need to turn into a giant.
“A’Heng, what are you doing?” Lin Mengzhi’s voice called out.
“Measuring height,” Wu Heng put away the tape. “I’ve grown taller.”
Lin Mengzhi tossed aside the branch in his hand and ran over. “Measure me too.”
The spot where they stood allowed sunlight to filter through layers of leaves and branches, shining down fully—even reaching the back seat inside the car through the window.
Only after completely closing the car window did Wu Heng pull out the tape again to measure Lin Mengzhi’s height.
Lin Mengzhi lifted his chin and puffed out his chest. Wu Heng crouched on the ground, then suddenly looked up. “Mengzhi, what’s the point of standing on your tiptoes?”
“Heh.” Lin Mengzhi lowered his heels. “Just a tiny bit.”
Lin Mengzhi had no need to worry about being the shortest. Ever since childhood, he had always been the tallest among kids his age in the neighborhood. When measured with the tape—
“So, how much?”
“193.”
“Haha! I knew all these years of eating weren’t for nothing.” He wasn’t even curious about Wu Heng’s height—Wu Heng looked a head shorter than him anyway, nothing worth asking. Instead, he went off to check everyone else.
Before the meal, Lin Mengzhi went around with the tape measure, checking everyone in the group—he didn’t even spare Yang Liangliang. After measuring them all, only Ao She was slightly taller than him by 5 millimeters. Xue Shen was exactly 190, while most of the other men were under 185. As for the women, they were mostly above 170. Only the Yang siblings were exceptions—one at 162, the other at 175. Yang Ao was probably shorter because he hadn’t gotten enough nutrition after the apocalypse, while Yang Yu had long passed the age of growing taller.
“What’s there to be smug about being tall? It doesn’t make you any smarter,” Dou Lu said. Seeing Ruan Silian tiredly shaking her hand, she took the spatula from her. “I’ll do it.”
Leaning against a tree trunk, Lin Mengzhi replied, “Still better than having nothing.”
“Fine, then when the sky falls, you can hold it up.”
“Tch.” Lin Mengzhi looked utterly disdainful. “If the sky collapses, then I’ll hold it up myself.”
“Enough, stop messing around. Let’s eat first,” Ruan Silian cut in, then looked toward the others scattered around. “Everyone, come eat.”
Once everyone started moving, Ruan Silian turned toward the car. “A’Heng, come eat! Call the class monitor too!”
Only Wu Heng came over. After saying, “The class monitor fell asleep,” he sat down in the spot everyone had deliberately left for him.
Ruan Silian stuffed a stainless steel bowl into his hands and ladled in a full serving of seafood stew—so thick it barely had any broth.
The rich aroma immediately dispelled some of the disappointment in Wu Heng’s heart.
He took out a folding stool from behind him and set the scalding-hot steel bowl on it. The others also found it too hot to hold, but could only cushion their hands with leaves—and they didn’t even have bowls to use.
“What’s this?” Lin Mengzhi picked up a small white, jade-like cube and tossed it into his mouth. It was springy and chewy.
“It should be dried scallop, though I’m not sure what exact type of shellfish,” said Xue Shen.
“Pretty small.”
“Obviously it was cut beforehand. Shellfish nowadays are huge—if you don’t cut them, they’re hard to dry.”
“What about this?” Lin Mengzhi picked up a piece of mushroom soaked full of broth. It looked like a sponge—more like a sock.
“Morel mushroom? Probably.”
Wu Heng said nothing and just kept stuffing food into his mouth. Aside from the corn flatbread, which he refused to eat, he accepted everything else without hesitation.
There were two large pots of seafood vegetable soup, made in deep, wide steaming pots with the racks removed. Inside were dried scallops, starfish, and some of the mushrooms Wu Heng had brought back earlier. No advanced cooking techniques were used, yet the soup was incredibly rich and flavorful.
As for the basket of eggs Wu Heng had provided, they were all pan-fried without oil, then crushed and mixed with a kind of golden-colored seaweed to make a cold dish. Considering the different tastes of humans and non-humans, it had even been divided into two portions—one seasoned in the usual tangy and spicy style for humans, and one completely unseasoned. If seasoning had been added, not only would Wu Heng refuse to eat it, but X would probably start squawking angrily first.
“A’Heng, did your hair get a lot shorter?” Ruan Silian held her bowl and looked him over while eating. “It feels about the same length as Ginger now.”
“How about I tie your hair into two little buns later?”
“…No.” After answering, Wu Heng paused, his chopsticks stopping mid-air as his brows suddenly furrowed. “Wait.”
It was rare for the boy to become serious so abruptly—and when he did, it usually meant something was wrong.
One of Lin Mengzhi’s chopsticks dropped. “What is it?”
Wu Heng took out two takeout containers from behind him. “Set aside a portion for the class monitor first. He might not want to eat your leftovers.”
Everyone was already used to Wu Heng’s occasional bluntness and obvious favoritism—he always made clear distinctions between who he cared about.
Only one discordant voice suddenly rang out, “And yours wouldn’t count as leftovers? Eat it or don’t.”
Tilting his head, Xue Qi let out an “Oh ho.”
Before Wu Heng could react, Shen Ping’an coldly took the bowl and chopsticks from Shen Ruyi, dumping all the remaining food from Shen Ruyi’s bowl into his own. In a low voice, he said, “For the next three days, you’re not allowed to eat the team’s food. If you’re hungry, figure it out yourself.”
Shen Ping’an didn’t bother paying attention to Shen Ruyi’s feelings—those weren’t as important as Wu Heng’s. Looking at Wu Heng, he said, “Sorry.”
“You don’t need to apologize for him. But there won’t be a next time,” Wu Heng said flatly. He didn’t care whether he himself was respected or not. He didn’t need anyone’s admiration, nor did he want to be the center of attention in any group.
But he really disliked it when others used a tone like “eat it or don’t” when talking about Xie Chongyi. Xie Chongyi was not someone insignificant.
Even if Xie Chongyi wanted to eat Shen Ruyi, Wu Heng would now slaughter and serve him up without hesitation.
—
After resting for half an hour at noon, the group set out again. The towering mountains ahead grew closer and closer, gradually filling their entire field of vision. And with that came a new problem—if they had to climb, there was no way they could drive the vehicles up.
Fortunately, night fell, so it wasn’t something they had to deal with immediately. They would camp at the foot of the mountain tonight, then pack up the vehicles and continue on foot at dawn. This decision was made by the adults—Ao She, Yang Yu, Zhou Yi, and Teacher Ying, who mostly just went along with others.
Ao She herded a group of ducks and his yellow ox off the vehicle, instructing them to stay nearby, forage for food, and not leave the humans’ line of sight. The ducks quickly disappeared from view anyway.
The man didn’t say anything or try to stop them. Instead, he climbed onto the truck with a broom, sweeping up bits of manure inside.
“Brother Ao, aren’t you afraid they’ll get eaten by wild animals here?” Xue Qi asked curiously.
“They usually move in groups.”
“Huh? What do you mean? That they’ll all get eaten together?”
“The leader has a water-type ability.”
Xue Qi’s brain immediately short-circuited. “You mean… one of them is a water-powered duck?”
Ao She nodded once, not pausing his cleaning.
Xue Qi shook his head in disbelief and walked off with his hands behind his back.
The long rainy season had turned this place into a natural reservoir. On the surface, it was covered with moss and fallen leaves, but underneath could be ponds or streams. Finding a dry place to sleep for the night was no easy task. Just preparing a spot for a campfire took two hours. If they had all still possessed their abilities, it probably wouldn’t have taken nearly that long.
Afterward, the ducks returned one by one—none missing—bringing with them the two yellow oxen, one big and one small. The poppy rooted itself nearby and set up a barrier, while the damp air was gradually dried by the campfire.
A full day of traveling had left their bodies—now without their abilities—far more exhausted than they had imagined. Almost as soon as they lay down, they couldn’t keep their eyes open. They didn’t even have the energy to answer when Ruan Silian asked if they wanted dinner.
“You’re pregnant, you’re not tired?” Dou Lu pulled her down, telling her to stop working.
“I think… I’m okay,” Ruan Silian said hesitantly. “It feels like the baby inside me is giving me a lot of strength.”
Dou Lu opened her eyes. She shifted her head onto Ruan Silian’s lap. In front of her was the other woman’s gradually swelling belly. Pressing her palm against it, she could already feel the distinct curve.
Amid the crackling of the fire, Dou Lu’s eyes slowly reddened. She suddenly wrapped her arms around Ruan Silian’s waist. “What should I do? I’m so scared you’ll die because of them. I hate them, they’re disgusting.”
Ruan Silian comforted her in return.
The two women spoke softly into the night. Lin Mengzhi slept between Xue Shen and Xue Qi—a spot he had carefully chosen as the softest and most comfortable. Ao She slept in the truck with his ducks and oxen. Qiu Li lay in his bathtub, blowing bubbles. Zhou Yi was on night watch, maintaining the habit he had formed during his time in the military.
Yang Yu gently pulled her arm out from beneath Yang Liangliang and returned to the vehicle. She took a baby bottle from her backpack and crouched nearby, rinsing it over and over with half a bottle of mineral water. Holding the clean bottle, she went back to the car, took out the can of milk powder, and began scraping the bottom of the tin with the spoon.
The scraping sound was enough to wake Wu Heng, who had been dozing in the adjacent vehicle.
Swish—
Wu Heng slid open the car window.
Yang Yu startled and turned around. When she saw it was Wu Heng, she let out a breath of relief—but then grew nervous again. “I’m making something for the baby to eat.”
Wu Heng gave a quiet “Mm.”
Several cans of milk powder and a few large packs of diapers were carried over by vines and set down at Yang Yu’s feet.
“You won’t run out of these. If you do, just come to me,” the boy said. His tone wasn’t particularly gentle or caring, but no one who received his kindness ever minded that.
Yang Yu held back her tears, thanking him again and again.
A kettle was heating water by the campfire. She poured some into a cup to let it cool, then mixed the formula.
Yang Ao looked at the full bottle of milk in surprise. “Weren’t you out? Did you ask Wu Heng for more?”
Yang Yu smiled, clearly in a good mood. “I didn’t ask him. He knew we ran out and gave me more on his own.”
Her eyes, still damp with unshed tears, shone brightly against her sallow face. “Yang Ao, he’s really kind—kinder than us, kinder than anyone we’ve met. You’re lucky to have a classmate like him.”
“What do you think… should I let Xiao Liang call him godfather?”
“You just want his supplies—and to make him Yang Liangliang’s backer,” Yang Ao said.
“Not entirely. A good-natured, emotionally stable adult has a huge influence on a child. And he still has an edge to him. You know what I mean—someone like that is impossible to find in the apocalypse, even if you were searching with a floodlight. Of course I hope someone like him would accept Xiao Liang.”
At first, Yang Ao thought his sister was joking. But the more she spoke, the more he realized she seemed completely serious.
“I suggest you calm down. Things aren’t like before anymore. Getting rejected would be the least of it—there’s even a chance he’d drive us away.”
“I know.”
They heard everything.
Whether it was the Yang siblings or Dou Lu and Ruan Silian, Wu Heng had actually heard all their conversations. Since Xie Chongyi hadn’t woken up, he couldn’t fall asleep either. So he simply paid attention to everyone’s movements—even noticing when someone quietly squeezed out the greyhound and took its place leaning against Lin Mengzhi’s head.
Wu Heng had never really thought about the idea of a next generation. Before meeting Xie Chongyi, things like sex or a partner were unfamiliar to him—let alone having children.
He slowly opened his eyes, lids lowered, his long lashes drifting softly against his lower eyelids, revealing the restlessness of his thoughts.
His pale, slender fingers slipped out from beneath the blanket, gliding gently along Xie Chongyi’s body before coming to rest on his lower abdomen.
Some insects are hermaphroditic… if the class monitor was too…
At that thought, warmth rose to his cheeks.
Xie Chongyi woke up under exactly those kinds of thoughts directed at him. In the past, whenever he regained consciousness after injections, his body barely reacted—but this time, a faint throbbing pulsed at his temples.
He closed his eyes for a moment to steady himself. The person beside him was still immersed in his own imagined dream and hadn’t realized he was awake.
Not until Wu Heng actually let out a small laugh.
Xie Chongyi had no choice but to sit up. His dark eyes fixed on Wu Heng, who jolted slightly upon returning to reality. His voice was hoarse. “So happy, what were you thinking about? Your wonderful life as a widow?”
Wu Heng wasn’t afraid at all. “You finally woke up.”
Xie Chongyi took hold of Wu Heng’s hand—still inexplicably resting on his lower abdomen. “Sorry for making you worry.” Only after speaking did he notice the clearly broken skin at the corner of the boy’s mouth, and his gaze instantly turned cold.
Wu Heng remained completely unaware. He leaned closer, pressed a light kiss to Xie Chongyi’s chin, then looked up and said:
“Class Monitor… can you have children? Let’s have one.”
