Eaten Ch.27.2

Chapter 27.2: Coiled Around Him Like a Snake

On the other side, the atmosphere wasn’t nearly as harmonious.

Lin Mengzhi sat on the floor leaning against the wall, watching the few people across from him with vigilance. He didn’t dare close his eyes for too long, afraid they might suddenly pounce on him, kill him to silence him, and steal the cola.

For all he knew, some of them might even have b*llied Wu Heng back in school.

Wu Zhi, who had slept and woken up again, opened her eyes just as X on her head woke up with her. “Brother Mengzhi, I’m hungry.”

“Drink cola,” Lin Mengzhi said.

Wu Zhi whispered, “Why are you imitating my brother?”

The truth was, Lin Mengzhi was exhausted. He didn’t know what time it was outside, nor how much time had passed. He had to stay alert in case the people across tried to rob them, in case mutant insects or zombies suddenly broke into the warehouse, in case Wu Heng was no longer safe. He couldn’t allow himself a single moment of rest. The fatigue pressing down on him was unlike anything he had ever felt before.

At this moment, he finally understood Wu Heng’s feelings. From the very first two days of the apocalypse, Wu Heng must have been living in the same state of constant tension he was in now.

And now that it was his turn—after only a short while, he already felt like he couldn’t take it anymore. Yet Wu Heng had dragged along this whole bunch of dead weight for over a week, and in that time had even gone through death and resurrection.

“Brother Mengzhi, why are you crying? Are you really scared?” Wu Zhi suddenly noticed that Lin Mengzhi was crying.

“It’s not fear,” Lin Mengzhi wiped at his face. “It’s that I think we need to grow up.”

Wu Zhi nodded seriously. “That’s true. Both our bodies and our brains still have a lot of room to grow.”

X laughed non-stop on the top of Wu Zhi’s head.

Lin Mengzhi couldn’t decide whether to laugh or cry—but the moment the boy who had used the water shield earlier started walking toward him, his expression froze.

He braced against the wall, trying to get up, but his legs were numb and he slid back down.

“So? Want to have a go?”

Xue Shen crouched down. “I’m the class academic rep in Wu Heng’s class. I said my name before — I’m Xue Shen. I didn’t b*lly him.”

Lin Mengzhi: “You want to drink cola?”

“I don’t have to drink. I’d rather we cooperate. We’re all stuck here — if we don’t work together, none of us may get out.” Xue Shen looked genuinely polite and mild-mannered, the kind of kid teachers and parents like; his calm, measured tone was persuasive.

Lin Mengzhi thought about it and admitted the other had a point — especially since he had brought along an idiot.

“How do we cooperate?”

Xue Shen lowered his voice. “Shen Ping’an is a speed-type ability user. He’ll go out and scout. When he comes back, we follow the route he gives and leave the mall.”

“Leave?!” Lin Mengzhi exclaimed.

“What do you want to do?”

“My childhood friend is still in here. I won’t go.”

“How are you sure he’s still here? Maybe he’s gone already.” Xue Shen said slowly. “Anyway, the living are the priority. If you don’t want to leave you can stay, but I don’t think that’s what Wu Heng would want.”

Xue Shen glanced at his watch. “We’ll start moving in ten minutes. You don’t have to join — you can stay here.”

After saying that he returned to his group.

Wu Zhi seemed to sense Lin Mengzhi’s inner conflict and anxiety. She looked at the people opposite them, then at Lin Mengzhi. “Are we leaving? Leaving Brother behind?”

“Why don’t you go with them, Brother Mengzhi — take the little bird with you. I’ll stay and wait for Brother,” Wu Zhi said, frowning.

“Don’t make me laugh,” Lin Mengzhi snapped.

Wu Zhi clutched the monkey’s ear. “If Brother dies, I won’t live. I can’t be without Brother.”

Lin Mengzhi drew a deep breath, patted Wu Zhi’s head, and walked over to Xue Shen.

“We’ll go together, but I have one condition.”

—

The staff lounge was dim and shadowy. Although Xie Chongyi had found a candle and a lighter, he couldn’t use them—light attracted too many insects.

Wu Heng was curled up on the sofa. The pain in his leg had eased quite a bit, or perhaps it wasn’t that the pain was gone, but that the waves of hunger crashing over him again and again were forcibly drowning it out.

That snail he had swallowed felt no different from drinking a mouthful of water.

Sharing the same room with Xie Chongyi, he couldn’t slip into his personal space to eat.

Besides, to eat other food while in the same room as Xie Chongyi would be no different from leaving a feast untouched only to choose to eat filth instead.

But how was he supposed to eat Xie Chongyi?

Even just a bite—just one bite would be enough.

Wu Heng was so hungry that cold sweat streamed down his face. It felt as though all the blood in his body had congealed, his heart and stomach cramping in waves of pain.

He didn’t even realize he was whimpering from hunger, but the sound woke Xie Chongyi, who was sleeping on the sofa beside him.

Xie Chongyi opened his eyes, quickly sat up, and stepped down from the sofa.

He padded over quietly and crouched next to Wu Heng. The boy’s face was slick with sweat, his brows knitted tight. Even his eyelashes were wet and glistening from the perspiration.

“Wu Heng?” Xie Chongyi called softly. He had no idea what was going on, but he could sense that the boy’s energy was frighteningly weak at that moment.

What was happening? Hadn’t he absorbed that massive energy core earlier?

“Wu Heng?” Xie Chongyi pressed lightly on his shoulder.

Wu Heng’s eyes snapped open, bloodshot, and he suddenly sat bolt upright.

Before Xie Chongyi could react, Wu Heng threw himself into his arms, clutching him tightly.

The boy’s body carried the faintest, faintest trace of fresh grass—not bitter, but a clean, green scent that was refreshing, making one think of the moment he unleashed his powers, when vines surged from his body like a nest of snakes. And yet, their master himself carried only the harmless fragrance of tender grass.

His arms, like those vines, clamped tightly—so tightly—around Xie Chongyi. But even holding Xie Chongyi like this wasn’t enough. He buried his face into the crook of Xie Chongyi’s neck, his cool, damp cheek almost knocking loose the buttons on Xie Chongyi’s coat.

Xie Chongyi had never been in such close contact with anyone before. He didn’t exactly dislike it, but liking it was out of the question. Even if it was with someone of his own kind, it was still unacceptable.

Xie Chongyi grabbed Wu Heng’s wrist and tried to pull him off, but Wu Heng only coiled around him like a snake. That tug sent the two of them toppling back onto the sofa, locked together.

“Wu Heng.” Xie Chongyi’s voice turned sharp.

Wu Heng’s mind cleared—just barely, only a fraction.

He froze for a moment, then slowly lifted his head. Through a hazy blur in his eyes, he looked at Xie Chongyi and murmured, “I’m so hungry.”

Xie Chongyi almost laughed. He hadn’t expected all this fuss to be because of hunger.

“I haven’t eaten in two days either. Do you see me clinging to you like this? Let go.” His tone was smiling, but there wasn’t the faintest trace of amusement in his eyes.

Wu Heng stared at him steadily. “But I really am hungry.”

Xie Chongyi’s reply was still flat and detached: “Is that the only thing you know how to say?”

“You don’t understand me.” Wu Heng pressed his face into Xie Chongyi’s chest, rubbing against the thin layer of muscle beneath the fabric. Even through the clothes, he felt warmth and comfort seeping into him, and the gnawing ache of hunger slowly began to ease.

Xie Chongyi couldn’t pry him off, so he had no choice but to endure the boy’s antics—half petulance, half shamelessness, half something that felt almost like harassment.

He even startled himself for a moment, because if it had been anyone else clinging to him like this—especially in such a life-and-death situation—that person would likely already be a corpse.

“Monitor.” Wu Heng mumbled against him, voice muffled and heavy.

“Mm.”

“Why do you smell so good?” Wu Heng realized that Xie Chongyi was no longer trying to push him away, so he pressed his face against Xie Chongyi’s neck. At the same time, his gaze quietly fixed on the man’s prominent Adam’s apple, on the thick veins carrying warm, fragrant blood.

Xie Chongyi’s eyes were half-lidded as he tried to puzzle out why Wu Heng was suddenly acting so out of character.

Because of hunger? He wasn’t a three-year-old child.

When he thought, he liked to keep something in his hands to fiddle with. But right now there was nothing within reach, so almost unconsciously his fingers caught hold of Wu Heng’s earlobe. Like his backside, Wu Heng’s earlobe was plump and soft, with a satisfying feel—better, in fact, than the prayer beads Xie Chongyi usually handled.

For an instant, Xie Chongyi’s thoughts drifted somewhere else. He suddenly wondered: would Wu Heng’s backside feel as good to toy with as his earlobe?

“I’m fine now.” Wu Heng abruptly straightened up, his brows and eyes clear and cool again. “Monitor, sorry about just now.”

A single line flashed across Xie Chongyi’s mind: He changes face faster than flipping a page.

But he sat up as well. “Just now—was it really only because you were hungry?”

Wu Heng nodded once. “After becoming an ability user, I get hungry more easily than before. When I’m starving, I might lose my reason. I can’t control myself. I’m sorry.”

Xie Chongyi studied him for a long while, as if weighing the truth of his words.

He noticed that Wu Heng’s fringe was still damp with sweat, his features bright and pale as if rinsed clean, his sharp cheeks carrying a pitiful fragility. But his lips had taken on a strangely vivid flush, redder than before, as though the lightest press would make nectar seep out like flower sap.

And besides—that pained expression he’d worn in his sleep just moments ago was hard to fake.

Recalling how Wu Heng had clung to him just now, Xie Chongyi asked, “Does holding on to me make you feel better? Why?”

Wu Heng nodded, then shook his head.

Xie Chongyi’s doubt was also Wu Heng’s doubt. By Wu Heng’s logic, being hungry and wanting to eat Xie Chongyi was the most natural thing in the world—when people are hungry, they have to eat. Yet just now, without even taking a bite of him, that wild, surging hunger inside had already eased quite a bit simply because he’d held Xie Chongyi for a while.

He didn’t understand why, but it wasn’t a bad thing. At least, even if he couldn’t really eat Xie Chongyi, he could still satisfy his craving a little through physical contact.

Xie Chongyi, clearly unwilling to dig too deep, let it be. Since the world had ended, nothing strange was truly strange anymore.

He only looked over at Wu Heng, who had already returned to his usual cold, brooding self.

Truth be told, the way he’d just thrown himself into his arms had been much more pleasing to the eye. That half-dead, aloof, tight-lipped act of his—always spouting nonsense—only made people want to b*lly him hard.

“Wu Heng, that situation just now—does it happen once in a while, or often?” Xie Chongyi asked.

“Often,” Wu Heng replied.

“Then how did you get through it before?” His leg had nearly been broken without shedding a tear or making a sound, but just now, hunger alone had stripped away all reason, leaving him looking like someone who would let himself be taken and used as long as he got fed.

Wu Heng answered, “By eating a lot of food.”

“In this world, eating as much as you want may be difficult,” Xie Chongyi said blandly.

“True,” Wu Heng agreed. Then he added, “So… when I get hungry again, can I hold you?”

After speaking, his gaze shifted away, falling onto the coffee table in front of him. In a low voice he said, “It’s fine if I can’t.”

Xie Chongyi raised a brow and let out a faint smile, half teasing, half serious. “Sure—one D-grade energy core for one hug.”

“…”

<< _ >>