Eaten Ch.21

Chapter 21: “Can I have a bite of you first?”

Wu Heng wasn’t used to, nor did he like, being too close to people—even Lin Mengzhi, who had grown up with him, was no exception.

But when it came to Xie Chongyi’s nearness, he didn’t actually feel repulsed.

He thought, perhaps it was because Xie Chongyi simply smelled too delicious. In this world, no one could possibly remain indifferent in the face of food that walked right up to their doorstep.

Wu Heng forced down the hunger roiling inside him. “That question I asked you earlier—you said we’d discuss it in person.”

Xie Chongyi looked at him for a moment, then rose and put some distance between them. “What question?”

“The conditions that trigger abilities. How one should get through the awakening period. The way energy cores are used.” Wu Heng stood up from the sandy ground, facing him directly. “Everything you know—I want to know.”

Xie Chongyi’s peach blossom eyes narrowed instinctively, and then he suddenly smiled. “Sure.”

Wu Heng frowned. That agreement came far too easily. With Xie Chongyi’s personality, he should have made things ten thousand times more difficult first, before finally giving a vague half-answer.

“Wu Heng, I’m not as good as you think,” Xie Chongyi said, “but I’m not that bad either. Haven’t you noticed? I’ve always been more than willing to share the information I get—with you, and with the others.”

Wu Heng’s expression very clearly spelled out a giant “No,” but he didn’t voice it.

When Xie Chongyi spoke again, the playful tone was gone. He returned to the aloof, detached manner Wu Heng remembered from before the disaster began.

“The awakening of an ability is random. Anyone can awaken one, but the conditions are unknown.”

“The manifestations during awakening differ depending on the type of ability. What situation are you trying to understand?”

Wu Heng thought back. “The body temperature rises. Very high—so high ordinary people can’t get close. In the end, the skin begins to blacken, and now and then, there’s a red glow flickering beneath the surface.”

“Most likely a fire-type ability. Your Mengzhi is very fortunate.”

“Why?”

“Abilities related to fire are basically pure offense. They’re suitable for both close combat and ranged battle,” Xie Chongyi explained calmly. After answering, he looked straight at Wu Heng. “What about you—what’s your ability?”

“I don’t have one.” Wu Heng didn’t think that counted as a lie. “I’m just… an ordinary person.”

“Why do you know so much?” the young man asked.

Xie Chongyi gave a short laugh, the meaning behind it unclear. “From the very first so-called rabies case, I started paying attention to incidents like these. By the second and third cases, I personally went to the sites to investigate. From the accounts of those nearby, the symptoms of the infected were nothing like rabies.”

“Out of dozens of so-called rabies patients, only one was ever officially declared cured and discharged. As for the rest, the explanations were all vague, brushed aside without resolution.”

“All life on Earth exists because of the environment, and changes with the environment. I might as well tell you—the emergence of mutated plants was first recorded two years ago. In March, two years back, domestic plant-protection experts discovered a birch tree in Changling that stood 47 meters tall, shattering the previous national record of 29 meters. By the time I went there myself to measure it, just a month later, it had already reached 63 meters.”

“And not only in the north’s Changling. In the south, Baiyun Mountain in Pingzhi, Butterfly Valley in Pu’er, and Shenmen Gorge—which is much closer to us—all recorded plant phenomena never seen before. The survey results were published both officially and online. But too few people were willing to pay attention.”

Everything Xie Chongyi had said was completely new to Wu Heng.

“Thank you for telling me this. But why would you think the appearance of these phenomena means a disaster is about to begin?”

“I never said this was a disaster.” Xie Chongyi’s tone cooled. “I see it more as an update for life on Earth—a kind of evolution. Right now, all life forms on this planet are standing at the same starting line. Humanity not only has the chance to become whatever kind of person they want, but also to become any pig… any dog.”

“I think this may become the fairest evolution and competition in the history of life on Earth. Wu Heng, what do you think?”

Wu Heng stammered, “I don’t know.”

But he liked the present.

Even though monsters roamed everywhere and danger lurked on all sides; even though he hadn’t awakened any ability—this world was cruel enough, objective enough, saturated with blood and slaughter. And yet, he truly liked it.

“Then let me ask you again—was it you who killed the female serpent here?” Xie Chongyi, much taller than Wu Heng, leaned slightly forward, gazing into the boy’s eyes.

Wu Heng shook his head. “It wasn’t me.”

“It was my bird that killed it.”

True or not, the parrot perched on his shoulder puffed out its chest with pride.

Xie Chongyi glanced at the mutated parrot, nodded, and said, “Pretty impressive.”

Then he added, “Wu Heng, in the future, there’s no need to lie to me about things like this. It’s not like I’ll steal whatever you’ve gained.”

“Then what’s your ability?” Know yourself and know your enemy, and you’ll never lose a hundred battles.

Xie Chongyi suddenly grinned. “I’m a dual-ability user. Given the depth of our relationship, you can only know one. Which one do you want to hear about?”

Wu Heng froze. “Dual abilities?”

“Pick one.”

Of course, Wu Heng wanted to know the stronger one. “Just now, you killed those baby snakes so easily.”

“That was spatial ability. But my level is still very low.”

“But…” Wu Heng wanted to say that what he saw didn’t seem that way at all.

“Didn’t I just tell you? All life forms are standing at the same starting line.” Xie Chongyi’s eyes curved into a smile as he reached out to poke Wu Heng’s cheek. “It’s just that I happen to be running a little ahead of you all.”

Wu Heng was just about to ask how far ahead when Xie Chongyi switched from poking to pinching, muttering, “Why’s your face so soft? Doesn’t look like you’ve got any meat on it at all.”

“…”

Seeing Wu Heng at a loss for words, Xie Chongyi finally withdrew his hand. “I’ll probably stay at the school for about another half a month. If you’re willing to go to Jingzhou with me, you can come find me.”

“Why Jingzhou?”

“A big city—more opportunities.”

Wu Heng lowered his gaze and thought for a moment, then nodded in agreement. “Alright, we’ll go to Jingzhou.”

—

On the way back, with his hunger and thirst satisfied, Wu Heng slaughtered that cactus. It wasn’t as formidable as he’d imagined, still stuck in the stage where it could only shiver its spines.

From its roots, he cut out a thumb-sized pale-green energy core. Its energy was more than three times weaker than the mutated snake’s core, yet it made him feel an unusual warmth and comfort.

A vine carefully stretched over, coiling around the core. A small burst of green light flared silently, seconds ticked by, the glow faded—and the core was gone.

“The cactus shares the same origin as you. You’re both wood-attribute. That means you can absorb its energy core. But you couldn’t absorb the mutated snake’s core—because snakes belong to fire.”

Wu Heng could already sense the energy stirred up inside him by the core. It was gathering in his left chest, as if fusing with his native energy. Only after the fusion was complete did it pump outward to the rest of his body.

The boy reached out and touched the vine before him—its surface was a little harder than before.

“From now on, I’ll feed you more energy cores. Don’t let me down.” Wu Heng’s gaze darkened, though his tone was gentle.

At that, not only did the vine press against him, but X also started rubbing its head against the hollow of his neck.

The parrot was fire-attribute. Its sudden show of closeness was probably because it had its eye on the fire-type energy core in his backpack.

“This one’s for Mengzhi. You’ll get your share later.”

X flapped its wings and flew off Wu Heng’s shoulder.

“Ungrateful bird,” Wu Heng said coolly, though he didn’t really take it to heart.

Jogging back toward the residential block, Wu Heng suddenly halted a short distance away—around their building, a dense mass of zombies had gathered.

Wu Heng estimated there were no fewer than fifty zombies gathered there. But why were they clustered around this place? When he’d left in the morning, there hadn’t been even ten in the area.

He wasn’t afraid of zombies. He wasn’t even afraid of death. He was just—

The instant his eyes landed on Lin Mengzhi’s wide-open door, his heart split apart.

Gripping the broken half of his blade, Wu Heng charged straight into the horde.

One zombie after another fell, and one after another came shrieking at the noise. Wu Heng’s face and hair were drenched in foul blood, to the point where he nearly looked no different from the zombies themselves.

He broke free from the swarm, didn’t bother with the front door, vaulted directly into the yard, and entered the house. Inside was a scene of chaos, with several zombies crowded around Lin Mengzhi’s room, pounding and roaring at the door.

Several vines shot forward, skewering their skulls all at once.

Wu Heng shut the door, walked over, and kicked the corpses aside. He raised his hand and knocked. “It’s me.”

After a long pause, a frail voice came from behind the door. “Password.”

“Right or wrong, it’s still right.”

The door immediately swung open from inside, and the blood-covered old woman collapsed into the boy’s arms.

Wu Heng hurriedly carried her to the sofa and settled her there. He filled half a basin with water and carefully wiped the blood from her face. A wound on her forehead gradually came into view—a bloody hole the size of half a fist. Fresh blood was still gushing, streaming down her jaw and dripping onto the sofa.

The old woman groaned. Her face had already gone waxy pale. “Those damned bastards—they pried the lock open to steal things, and they beat us.”

“Mengzhi has a fever. Why didn’t you tell me?”

Wu Heng crouched in front of the sofa.

“Didn’t want you to worry.”

“Worry my ass. That kid’s always been sturdy as an ox.”

But Wu Heng still told the old woman the truth. “Mengzhi should be awakening an ability.”

“Then… then doesn’t that mean he won’t have to be afraid of those things anymore?” Grandma Lin’s spirit seemed to lift a little.

“Something like that.”

“Then I can be at ease.” She let out a long breath, as if it were winding its way out from the depths of her body.

“He’ll wake up soon. Just hold on a little longer.” Wu Heng gripped her hand tightly as he spoke.

“A’Heng…”

“Only people on the verge of death talk like that. Don’t say it.” Wu Heng’s face was cold, but only he knew how terrified he was in that moment.

He hated being afraid. Fear meant admitting his own weakness. Even when fate had trampled him underfoot for more than ten years, he had never felt fear. Even when he had once been killed on the outskirts of the city, his corpse gnawed by mutated plants, he had not felt fear.

But now, facing this old woman—

“You’re smarter than Mengzhi. From now on, you take care of him. If he doesn’t listen to you, then beat him. Beat him hard. That kid’s too thick-skinned.”

“You two shouldn’t stay here anymore. Find somewhere safe. The people in this building… you really couldn’t tell what they were like before all this.”

“My two hundred thousand in pension money—Mengzhi’s been itching to use it to open a restaurant. Keep it for him, and only give it to him when he’s grown sensible.”

After saying all this, the old woman drew in a long breath. Her body shuddered from head to toe, and when she calmed again, her head turned toward Lin Mengzhi’s room. “Why hasn’t that brat woken up yet? I can’t even get one last ‘old hag’ out of him before I close my eyes.”

Wu Heng cast a glance at X not far away.

The parrot hopped down from the sofa, tiptoed to the doorway of Lin Mengzhi’s room, and began to mimic.

“Old hag.”

“Grandma.”

“Don’t die.”

Hearing Lin Mengzhi’s voice, Grandma Lin’s expression finally became truly peaceful—even content.

“Dying’s better. Dying means I won’t drag you two boys down anymore. No one will complain I eat too much, walk too slow, or that I’m blind.”

Wu Heng said he wouldn’t.

The old woman had already spent the last of her strength on those words, and she slowly closed her eyes.

A long time passed before Wu Heng dared to reach out and test her breathing. Weak, but still there.

Confirming that she was only asleep, Wu Heng carefully stood up. First, he found disinfectant and gauze and gave the old woman a thorough cleaning and sterilization.

Then he checked the living room and the two bedrooms for supplies. The food had basically been cleaned out, but aside from that, a lot of materials were still left. Most likely, since the disaster had only just begun, people had only realized the problem of food shortages.

After setting the toppled furniture back in place, Wu Heng also cleaned the floor. When he passed the sofa, he noticed the old woman’s hand, which had originally rested on her stomach, now dangling off the edge.

Wu Heng crouched down, movements stiff like a robot. He took a deep breath and held her hand.

Cold. Very cold.

Half a day later, the boy finally leaned over and lay down beside the old woman. Stifled sobs broke the silence of the house.

—

In the early hours, the door to Lin Mengzhi’s room opened. His hair was a mess, and he leaned against the doorframe, yawning furiously.

“Why the hell am I so hungry?”

His watery eyes blinked from the force of the yawn, and after a long while he finally noticed Wu Heng, still slumped beside the sofa, and the grandmother lying on it.

Hearing the noise, Wu Heng’s fingers twitched. His whole body was sore and stiff, his neck aching so badly that it took him ages to lift his head.

By the time he looked up, Lin Mengzhi had already walked over.

“Why are you sleeping here? Why didn’t you go back to your room?” Lin Mengzhi, completely unaware of his own nighttime vision, frowned. “Wait—why do I smell so bad? And why are my clothes all torn?”

Wu Heng said flatly, “Grandma passed away.”

“…” Lin Mengzhi froze, his face twisting into a comically exaggerated clownish expression.

Wu Heng’s face remained expressionless. “Five thirty-two in the afternoon. She passed away.”

Only then did Lin Mengzhi stop clowning around. He bent down and finally saw the bloodstains on the old woman’s clothes, her drained and bloodless pale face, and the bandages on her head.

“I don’t believe it.” Lin Mengzhi shot upright, turning his back.

“After I went out this morning, the people in the building broke into your place while you were gone. They hurt Grandma and stole all the food. Then, because the door was damaged, zombies got in. Grandma hid in your room and held the door shut the whole time… until I got home.” Wu Heng spoke slowly, afraid to let his words cut off. If he stopped, he would never be able to continue.

When Lin Mengzhi turned back, his eyes were bloodshot, his voice full of hatred.

“Why did you have to go out?”

Wu Heng was struck dumb. “…I’m sorry.”

“Why did you go out? Why did you go out?!” Lin Mengzhi roared, seizing Wu Heng by the throat.

With a heavy thud, Wu Heng hit the floor. He didn’t even struggle.

He was used to being abused; physical pain meant little to him, hardly worth a thought.

His face flushed red from the lack of air, his eyes turning ever darker, pupils faintly showing the shifting patterns of poppy flowers. His expression was like that of a devil at death’s door—reveling, wandering—yet carrying a strange, inhuman contempt and sorrow toward the living.

X leapt up from behind, scratching at the back of Lin Mengzhi’s head with both claws.

“Idiot! Idiot! Idiot!”

Lin Mengzhi suddenly came to his senses and let go. Hatred dissolved into guilt. He scrambled over to the sofa, clutching the old woman’s hand.

“Old hag? Old hag? Don’t you dare scare me!”

“Lin Lingfeng? Lin Lingfeng!”

His personality was always expressive, and so were his tears.

“You can’t even see anymore, you must’ve been terrified of dying.”

“It’s all my fault—you told me before the lock was too old and needed changing, but I was too damn lazy to listen.”

“I know you’re old, that sooner or later you’d die. But before you go, you should at least… hug me one more time.”

Wu Heng said nothing. He walked outside, sat down on the steps, and silently watched as zombies were lured over by the crying.

Only when they drifted right in front of him did he lash out with his vines and cut them down.

One after another, zombies collapsed before the boy.

In the moonlight, Wu Heng’s face looked coldly striking, almost translucent. His expression was calm, almost serene, against the chorus of zombie howls. But the black vines, thrashing wildly with killing intent, were the true soul of that somber, beautiful shell.

This time was different—Lin Mengzhi didn’t cry for long. When Wu Heng was called back inside, he found the old woman had already been moved onto the bed, dressed in burial clothes.

“Sorry.”

“Sorry.”

The two spoke in unison.

Only then did Lin Mengzhi notice the dark red mark around Wu Heng’s neck where he had choked him.

Wu Heng’s skin was pale to begin with, making any mark stand out. Now, the wound looked almost like a burn—the edges blackened, the middle raw and pink. It was shocking to look at.

“Why is it like this?” Lin Mengzhi lowered his head, staring at his own hands.

“I’ll tell you tomorrow. For now, let’s just rest.” Wu Heng was tired, and hungry.

Besides, right now Lin Mengzhi clearly wasn’t in the mood to discuss anything about powers.

“You go sleep. I’ll stay with the old hag.” Lin Mengzhi’s voice caught. He hadn’t even changed his clothes or washed up since waking, looking like a beggar as he curled up on the floor of Grandma Lin’s room.

Wu Heng took some disinfectant and bandages, and on his way out he happened to find a bag of cookies tucked away in a corner. He picked it up and went back home.

Most likely the three at home were still asleep. Wu Heng pushed open Wu Zhi’s door and left the cookies on her bedside.

As he stepped out, faint whispers drifted from the master bedroom next door.

That was where Wu Shiming and Zeng Like were.

Wu Heng closed Wu Zhi’s door softly. Standing between the two rooms, he leaned back against the wall, tilted his head slightly, and listened in silence to the voices coming from behind the other door.

“There’s nothing left to eat at home! Nothing at all! Even Wu Zhi’s snacks are gone! That little bit we grabbed this afternoon from Lin Mengzhi’s place can’t even be called food—I want meat!”

The woman’s voice was hushed, yet it carried the shrill edge of hysteria.

The man’s tone wasn’t much different.

“What are you yelling at me for? Where am I supposed to get meat for us? The streets are crawling with zombies—if you dare to go out, then go out! I’m not going.”

Something crashed inside. Their voices rose and fell, sometimes sharp, sometimes hoarse, sometimes dissolving into guttural growls.

“Enough! Don’t we still have Xiao Zhi and Wu Heng at home?” the man shouted.

The woman sounded puzzled. “What about them?”

“They can be eaten too, can’t they?”

Her reply came only after a long silence, hesitant:

“But they’re our son and daughter. We’re their parents… isn’t that wrong?”

The man snapped back, furious:

“We raised them, didn’t we? Now, in times like these, feeding us is their duty as children!”

The woman seemed to waver still, so the man pressed on:

“We don’t have to eat them outright. We’ll bleed them first. By the time they die, they won’t feel any pain.”

The woman sighed softly. “When you put it that way… we’d still be merciful parents.”

The man agreed: “Exactly.”

Wu Heng lowered his head. His short, black velvet-like hair slipped down to shadow the smooth, delicate lines of his forehead, while the blocky darkness cast by his lashes spread beneath his eyes like a deathly shade.

“Now then… we have one son and one daughter. Wu Zhi’s just under a hundred jin, maybe short by two. Wu Heng isn’t even a hundred and twenty…”

“Wu Heng’s one meter seventy-six—how is he that light?”

“He’s always been skinny. You’re always beating him.”

“What’s that got to do with me? If I’d known this day would come, I should’ve forced food into his stomach with a feeder! Got him up to two, three hundred jin—then we could’ve eaten for a few extra days.”

“Enough talk,” with food in sight, the woman’s mood calmed; her voice softened. “Tell me, should we eat Wu Heng first, or Wu Zhi first?”

Before the man could answer, the doorknob turned. With a creak, the bedroom door was gently pushed open from outside.

The boy’s tall, lean figure appeared in the doorway. His beauty was often too subdued to notice, yet in certain moments it stood out sharply—such as now, in this instant of killing intent.

From his snow-pale palm, a length of vine extended, restless and eager. Wu Heng looked at the hollow-cheeked, vacant-eyed pair before him, curved his lips, and said softly:

“Mom… I’m hungry. Can I have a bite of you first?”

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