Chapter 45: “Sometimes you give me the feeling you’re already dead”
The vines fumbled in a panic, wrapping around the boy’s head and clumsily setting it back onto his softened neck. Unfortunately, the head was barely hanging on, and Shen Ping’an had already closed his eyes.
Wu Heng held Shen Ping’an’s head up with his vines. He couldn’t quite describe what he was feeling—only that it was uncomfortable, somehow wrong.
He didn’t really remember Shen Ping’an’s face, nor did the name ring strongly in his mind. But he knew—they were the same kind of people. In class, both of them had always been invisible.
The ground suddenly shuddered. One of the bodies anchored by the vines slipped off like sludge.
Xie Chongyi had torn open the ground itself, splitting it apart by force. Water rushed into the cage, flipping it over from the inside.
The Poppy fled fast.
“Where is he?!” Du Yaoyuan dashed forward. “Where’s the person?!”
Xue Qi, slung over Lin Mengzhi’s shoulder, was swaying back and forth. He was closest to the puddle of what had once been a person—and suddenly understood. His stomach heaved violently, and the potatoes he’d eaten for dinner surged back up, splattering across his face.
Lin Mengzhi didn’t know what had happened. He only heard Xue Qi coughing and hurriedly set him down on the ground.
Wiping his face, Xue Qi rasped, “He got decomposed.”
No one spoke. They just stared blankly at the patch of ground where the cage had just fallen.
“N–no…” Dou Lu’s vision blurred with tears. “No, that’s impossible—it’s just a big kind of grass, right? How could it kill people?!”
“Li Shu’s dead. Shen Ping’an’s dead. Are we going to die too?”
“I feel like… we’ve fallen from the top of the food chain to the very bottom. Will humanity be wiped out?”
Du Yaoyuan hefted Ruan Silian higher in his arms. He felt a warm face press against his neck—and a stream of equally warm liquid slid down into his collar.
Xie Chongyi went over to examine the ground. A thin layer of blood was all that remained—nothing else.
He wiped the traces of blood from his fingertips onto the moss and straightened up. “Let’s go.”
The longer they lingered, the greater the chance of encountering unpredictable danger.
In this apocalypse, the things humanity now saw had already far surpassed human understanding. The old framework had been overturned, replaced by a new order—a new world.
The things themselves were still the same things; they had simply changed, in part, from what they used to be.
The rain grew heavier.
Everyone was soaked to the bone. Mist rose between the trees, and rainwater dripped into the surrounding cages with clear, rhythmic sounds—Tick, tick.
X had woken up. It crouched on Wu Heng’s shoulder, shaking itself every so often—each time spraying Wu Heng in the face with water.
Behind him walked Xie Chongyi. For every step Wu Heng took, another followed close behind.
The boy’s attention was caught by the cages suspended in midair, so he didn’t notice the vines twisted together underfoot. He stumbled—
—and just as he was about to fall forward, Xie Chongyi’s hand shot out, gripping his arm. The rain washed over Xie Chongyi’s face, erasing all expression.
“Do you have a death wish?”
“No.” Wu Heng steadied himself. “I just noticed…”
He swallowed, then lifted his gaze toward the sky. “Those cages… they seem to be changing positions nonstop.”
Xie Chongyi didn’t let go of his wrist. Instead, he tugged him forward. “When a pitcher plant senses prey, it uses every trick it can to lure it in. Don’t lose focus—because it hasn’t moved at all.”
“Oh.”
“Class monitor, are you scared?” Wu Heng asked, sounding a little bored. He thought back to the expressions on everyone’s faces when they saw the blood stains Shen Ping’an had left behind—fear had far outweighed the sorrow of losing a classmate.
At a time like this, grades, personalities, family wealth—all the things that once made them proud—were useless as armor. Any one of them could be the next Shen Ping’an.
Xie Chongyi thought for a moment and said, “Not really.”
Wu Heng turned to study him seriously. Water streamed from his forehead, seeping into his eyes along the roots of his lashes, then spilling out again—not like tears, because his face showed no emotion at all.
“Okay,” Wu Heng said, “maybe I am a little scared.”
Xie Chongyi glanced at him sidelong, barely perceptible. “Don’t fake it.”
“Alright then, I’m not scared.”
“Wu Heng,” Xie Chongyi pressed his lips together. “Sometimes you give me the feeling you’re already dead.”
He remembered the first time he’d noticed Wu Heng. He had been standing by a classroom window upstairs, looking down. Wu Heng, on cleaning duty, was sweeping the track. There were seven or eight students assigned, but after tossing their brooms aside, they’d run off laughing—
“Wu Heng, you keep sweeping! We’ll go buy drinks and bring you one too!”
They came back later and started playing basketball right beside him.
Wu Heng hadn’t said a word. He had simply finished sweeping the entire track on his own, carefully and methodically. When he left, he even gathered all the scattered brooms and returned them to the equipment room.
The boy seemed like someone the world had never accepted—and who had never accepted the world in return. Detached. Indifferent.
Wu Heng’s eyelashes drooped, soaked into clumps. “You hate me.”
“…No,” Xie Chongyi said after a pause. “I don’t.”
“Ruan Silian!” a panicked voice called through the rain and mist from up ahead. “Ruan Silian fainted!”
Everyone, already tense to the limit, broke into chaos once again.
“Poisoned?”
“Can pitcher plants release toxins too?!”
Chen Meng trudged over, his steps uneven, to take a look. Du Yaoyuan and Dou Lu watched the zombie doctor’s every move with tense vigilance.
He gave only a brief glance before saying, “Low blood sugar. She’ll be fine once she eats something.”
Upon hearing that, Wu Zhi didn’t hesitate. She pulled a piece of candy from her pocket and offered it over. “Here.”
Du Yaoyuan snatched it out of her hand, tore off the wrapper, and stuffed it into Ruan Silian’s mouth—then shot Wu Zhi a glare. “Why didn’t you take that out earlier?”
Wu Zhi hugged her rain-soaked doll, now smaller and limp from being drenched, and hid behind Lin Mengzhi, poking her head out. “Why should I?”
As the class monitor, Xie Chongyi always took on more responsibility for class matters. When he walked over, Du Yaoyuan’s fierce look instantly softened.
Wu Heng quietly stepped back two paces and disappeared behind one of the large cages.
X fluttered soundlessly onto Lin Mengzhi’s empty shoulder.
—
Wu Heng slipped into the space. He grabbed a handful of candies and shoved them into his pocket before quickly heading toward the plant’s main body.
The Poppy seemed to have regained a bit of its awareness. Rain dripped from Wu Heng, and the creature’s body, too, was beaded with scattered drops of water.
But at its roots lay a mound of red and white flesh—chunks of tissue and limbs that hadn’t yet had time to dissolve.
“You can’t eat this,” he said softly. “Are you really that hungry?”
When Xie Chongyi had torn open the ground earlier, the Poppy had panicked and scooped Shen Ping’an up whole.
Wu Heng lowered his gaze, staring for a moment. His pupils flickered.
He crouched down and pressed his fingers in front of Shen Ping’an’s nose. His breath hitched. “He’s still alive?!”
Why…?
The main body trembled. From its thickest root, fine, hairlike green tendrils unfurled and flowed toward the heap of flesh—like a tide of greenery—burrowing into the still-warm, blood-red remains nearby.
Wu Heng thought the plant was about to feed. He wanted to stop it—compared to eating humans, he believed the meat of mutated animals was far tastier and had a better chew to it.
People these days were spoiled and soft; nothing worth eating on them. It was like how a free-range chicken would never want to eat another chicken from a coop.
He looked at the heap of nearly liquefied flesh before him and felt not the slightest appetite.
The vines burrowed fully into the mound, swiftly overtaking every bit of flesh and pulp until the red faded thin, replaced mostly by a vibrant, thriving green.
A stream of that green hue flowed like liquid, seeping into the boy’s head. His tightly shut eyelids trembled.
Wu Heng’s heart gave a jolt, and he stumbled back two steps.
It was normal for a plant to regrow from a broken stem—but only for itself.
The vines had reclaimed every fragment that had once belonged to Shen Ping’an’s body, leaving only a thin layer of pale pink mucus on the ground.
Not human blood. Wu Heng bent down, dipped a finger in it, and touched it to his tongue—sweet. Pitcher plant nectar, the kind used to lure prey.
He rubbed his fingers together, then looked up again—
Shen Ping’an was standing right in front of him. His face looked exactly the same as before, not a single feature out of place. But Wu Heng had face blindness, so he wasn’t entirely sure whether this was what Shen Ping’an had really looked like.
Appearance aside, the bigger question was—why was Shen Ping’an alive again?
“Wu Heng,” Shen Ping’an spoke, his voice still as low and heavy as ever. “Where is this?”
“Uh—” Wu Heng hesitated, then chose not to answer. Instead, he asked, “Who are you?”
“Shen Ping’an.”
“Do you know you were just decomposed by a pitcher plant?” Wu Heng frowned.
“I know.”
Wu Heng felt that the other seemed to know the reason—or maybe not—but either way, there was no curiosity in him, no shock or confusion. Only calm acceptance.
The faintly assessing look on the boy’s face did not escape Shen Ping’an’s notice. Without a word, he rolled his sleeve up to the elbow, exposing the inside of his forearm. With his other hand, palm down, a glint of green shimmered in the air beneath it—vines twining together into a blade of living green. He gripped the hilt decisively and drew the edge across his arm.
No blood came out.
Wu Heng slowly stepped closer and looked down into the cut.
Beneath the split skin, there was no human flesh, no blood—only a tightly bound bundle of vines stretching through the arm.
Anyone who saw an arm like that would find it hard to stay calm. Even Wu Heng felt a sharp prickle run through his fingertips.
“This is… me…” Shen Ping’an began, but trailed off.
Wu Heng admitted it plainly. “Yes. It was me. Xue Qi and I are the same type—he’s an animal symbiote, and I’m a plant symbiote. But we’re not exactly alike. My plant’s main body still has part of its own consciousness. His animal counterpart doesn’t.”
“…” Shen Ping’an said nothing. He didn’t really know Wu Heng—neither before the apocalypse nor after. Wu Heng’s presence had always been faint, forgettable. Honestly, his impression of that bird was deeper than of Wu Heng himself. And until now, Wu Heng had never mentioned that he was a plant symbiote.
“I can feel it,” Shen Ping’an continued. “Even without breathing through my mouth or nose, I can still exchange gases through my skin. But why… why did I become like this?”
Wu Heng’s thoughts were sharpening into order. He opened his palm. “Give me the knife.”
The boy’s voice was soft, his enunciation light, his features mild rather than sharp. There was no air of superiority—his gaze was even slightly lowered.
Yet somehow, Shen Ping’an felt a strange sense of purpose stirring in him. He took a deep breath and placed the knife into Wu Heng’s waiting hand.
Wu Heng’s fingers tightened around the hilt. Out of the corner of his eye, he flicked a quick glance at Shen Ping’an—then drove the blade straight into his chest.
The knife twisted once to either side. A stream of green fluid seeped out. The vines that had been severed instantly rejoined themselves, and in that brief moment before they knit back together, Wu Heng caught sight of a green energy core pulsing behind the blade’s tip.
As expected—he’d turned into a wood-type.
Confirming his suspicion, Wu Heng pulled the knife out cleanly and said, “You were decomposed and absorbed by the pitcher plant. As a plant, it absorbed molecular information from you—and because you hadn’t been completely digested, your body in turn absorbed information from it.”
“During that overlap, the pitcher plant took on human traits, and you took on plant ones. My mutant plant took the opportunity to graft you into itself—to make you part of it.”
Shen Ping’an didn’t even feel pain. The wound in his chest had already closed. On his usually expressionless face, a faint trace of astonishment appeared. “So I’ve become a plant symbiote?”
He had once been a speed-type ability user. To be honest, aside from running a bit faster when escaping danger, he’d never found much use for it. But now—his entire internal structure had changed. It was… surreal.
Wu Heng thought he was upset. He handed the knife back, murmuring, “…Sorry. That wasn’t my intention.”
Shen Ping’an accepted the knife. “Then—where is this place?”
There were no pitcher plants around, no people either. The space was pure white on all sides, the air humid and comfortably warm. Around them were stacks of large and small supply bags.
Wu Heng glanced around, then asked, “How do you plan to explain this to the others?”
He didn’t answer Shen Ping’an’s question. The two of them had never been close, and even now—despite Shen Ping’an’s new body being grafted from the Poppy—that distance remained.
The other avoided his question, switching the topic so abruptly and coldly that Shen Ping’an didn’t dare pursue it.
He simply said, “I’ll tell it like it is.”
Wu Heng frowned — meaning he’d get exposed too?
Unhappy, he snapped, “You talk about your situation. Don’t drag me into it.”
That strange sense of being compelled resurfaced, and Shen Ping’an instinctively nodded. “Okay.”
After giving that instruction, Wu Heng led Shen Ping’an out of the space. The air outside was far damper and colder. Shen Ping’an hadn’t even adjusted when Wu Heng suddenly shouted, “Shen Ping’an!!!”
“…”
Ruan Silian had already woken up, and Du Yaoyuan was carrying her on his back again — the group was about to set out when they heard that familiar name.
Shen Ping’an stepped out from behind the cage.
“Holy sh*t!” Lin Mengzhi yelped in shock.
Dou Lu’s eyes instantly reddened. “Didn’t the pitcher plant eat you just now?!”
Shen Ping’an, as taciturn as ever, only said, “I mutated.”
“Plant symbiote?” Xue Shen asked.
“Something like that.” In truth, Wu Heng was the real symbiote — Shen Ping’an was merely a branch grafted onto him.
Xie Chongyi asked, “A pitcher plant?”
Shen Ping’an shook his head. “Not sure. Besides the pitcher plant’s roots, there were also ferns on the ground.”
Xue Qi followed up, “Do you feel unwell anywhere?”
Chen Meng added, “If you do, you need to say so. Don’t hold it in — small problems can turn into big ones.”
But Shen Ping’an felt perfectly fine. “Actually, I feel better than before.”
Du Yaoyuan, not understanding the details but thrilled by his classmate’s return and new evolution, shouted, “That’s so damn cool, Shen Ping’an!”
“Having survived a great disaster, blessings are sure to follow.”
Shen She, carrying his cello on his back, was genuinely happy for Shen Ping’an.
“Then let’s hurry up and go!” Dou Lu said, supporting Ruan Silian by the back.
As usual, Xie Chongyi waited until everyone had started moving before taking up position at the rear of the group.
This time, however, he didn’t walk beside Wu Heng — because Shen Ping’an was already there.
“Xie Chongyi, Xie Chongyi…”
A trembling, uneasy voice called out to him.
Xie Chongyi slowed his pace, and Ying Liuquan caught up.
“Tell me,” Ying Liuquan began, “should I go apologize to Shen Ping’an? Even if he turned misfortune into blessing, it doesn’t really count as a blessing — he’s not even human anymore, not as a symbiote. He almost died saving me, and I just…”
The young man trailed off.
He’d been terrified for a long time — ever since the apocalypse began, he’d hidden on the rooftop, never daring to come down. The stick insects and the earthquakes had nearly shattered his sanity. He was scared, desperate — the world had become such a nightmare; how much longer could humanity keep struggling to survive?
Xie Chongyi didn’t seem too concerned. “If you feel it’s necessary, then go apologize.”
Ying Liuquan gritted his teeth, quickened his pace, and went to catch up with Shen Ping’an.
Wu Heng slowed his own steps until he was walking alongside Xie Chongyi.
“Teacher Ying was scared out of his mind,” Wu Heng said, hands tucked into his pockets. Rainwater streamed down his delicate chin like a narrow waterfall, tracing into his collar.
“That’s normal. Not being scared would be abnormal.”
Xie Chongyi hadn’t planned to respond, but when he glanced at Wu Heng’s face — that pure, utterly clueless expression — he felt his silence would be wasted anyway.
Wu Heng nodded in agreement. “You’re the abnormal one.”
Xie Chongyi smiled faintly. “So are you.”
When they finally walked clear of the pitcher plant’s territory, everyone let out a long, collective sigh of relief.
They stopped to rest on a stretch of open mossy ground, unearthed by the earthquake.
Thick, lush moss covered every stone and slope in sight, soaked through by countless rounds of rain. From afar, the whole area looked like a field of glimmering green mushrooms — their surfaces soft and velvety.
Everyone lay back on the rocks to rest for a bit, but their gazes kept drifting toward the distance, where the pitcher plant’s territory had long since disappeared into the mist.
Rain and fog swirled together.
“Gotta admit, it’s actually kinda pretty,” Lin Mengzhi said, opening his mouth to drink the falling rain.
“Yeah. It’d be even prettier if it didn’t kill people,” Xue Qi remarked.
“Think pitcher plants are edible? Like, if you tore it into strips for hot pot or sliced it thin for a salad… Feels like it’d be chewy, kinda rubbery.”
“The edges of pitcher plants have a layer of nectar — might even taste sweet.”
“Du Yaoyuan said it looks like a toilet. You think there’re bugs inside… pooping in it?”
“Rinse it with water.”
“Clean it out and it’s good to eat.”
Listening to them, Dou Lu felt both hungry and nauseated. “You two, enough!”
—
Nearly three hours later, they reached the small town near the scenic area. The town was surrounded by mountains, but it wasn’t small — the growing number of zombies along the road made that clear enough.
Wu Heng still used his knife.
Although he could now form blades from vines, he wanted the poppy to get as much rest as possible.
As long as the zombies weren’t mutated, they were far easier to handle than the aggressive mutant plants and animals.
Beside him, Xie Chongyi fought efficiently — clean and fast. Most of the time, the zombies’ heads exploded before they even got close. By the time they entered the town, his blade was still spotless.
There were only a few zombies wandering the streets.
Ruan Silian was handed over to Dou Lu’s care, while Du Yaoyuan and Xue Shen began clearing out the nearby undead.
The rest started gathering supplies in the areas already secured.
Lin Mengzhi bent down and lifted Xue Qi into the wheelchair.
“Dou Lu, you stay here and watch over these little troublemakers.”
The three who’d just been called out — Wu Zhi, Xue Qi, and Ruan Silian — all turned to look at him.
“No problem,” Dou Lu said, “but if you find any food, can you send a bite back first? I’m starving to death here!”
Wu Heng, as usual, drifted on the edge of the group.
He kept his head down, kicking at small stones, not paying attention to the strength of his kicks — until one of them hit the toe of Xie Chongyi’s boot.
“……”
“Sorry.” Wu Heng straightened up and stopped moving.
Barely had he spoken when a calm voice sounded: “I’ll go with Wu Heng.”
It was Shen Ping’an.
Xie Chongyi turned to look at him before Wu Heng could.
“He doesn’t have an ability,” Xie Chongyi said evenly. “It’s safer if he comes with me. You’re still recovering — you should stay put.”
Wu Heng nodded in agreement; between a source of food and a source of photosynthesis, he’d obviously rather stick with the food.
Once the groups were decided, everyone set out.
The town was much like Hanzhou — almost completely ruined by the earthquake.
Among the rubble stood a few cracked and tilted buildings, while beneath the wreckage, vegetation had begun to grow in startling abundance.
There were monstera plants with thick leaves, fiddle-leaf figs whose roots and foliage piled up like layered clouds, propping half a building high, and pothos vines that had nowhere to hang, spreading freely across the ground. Lemon trees had already begun to bear fruit, and wild grasses like foxtail and plantain sprouted everywhere in dense clumps.
The downfall of the human world — and the rebirth of another.
As they passed a lemon tree, Wu Heng gave it a shake.
It turned out to be nothing more than a particularly healthy mutated plant.
He reached up, plucked one lemon after another, and stuffed them all into his pockets — where they obediently disappeared into his personal space.
Halfway through picking, his foot slipped into a gap between two broken slabs of stone.
He pulled his leg out with some effort, only to spot, beneath the network of roots supporting the lush leaves and fruit, a human corpse lying there.
Wu Heng had never thought of himself as a good person — though he wasn’t entirely sure what “good” or “bad” even meant anymore.
But he was fairly certain of one thing: he would never let his own roots grow out of another living being’s body.
He stepped back under the lemon tree, tugged down the branches, and picked every last fruit from it.
Not far away, Xie Chongyi had found a burlap sack somewhere and was crouched inside a half-collapsed convenience store, busily tossing instant noodles into it.
Wu Heng suddenly felt a twinge of pity for his “food source.”
He had never raised the man, never even fed him once.
So he quietly walked over and crouched beside him, making no sound.
A rustle brushed Xie Chongyi’s ear — then a small chocolate bar, still wrapped in its crinkled paper, appeared right by his lips.
“Class monitor,” Wu Heng said softly, “you must be hungry. Have something to eat.”