Eaten Ch.46.2

Chapter 46.2: “I’m allergic to chocolate”

From a distance, the others—who had already set up a stove on the open ground and were using the iron pot Xie Chongyi had brought back to cook instant noodles—looked up and saw Wu Zhi chasing after Wu Heng with a sulky pout.

When they came closer, Xue Qi couldn’t help but laugh. “Why are you crying when you’ve got new clothes to wear?”

Wu Zhi sniffled. “Big brother won’t braid my hair.”

Ruan Silian chuckled softly, setting down her disposable chopsticks. “Come here, I’ll do it for you.”

The little girl crouched beside her and handed over a broken comb.

“You even have a comb?”

“…Found it.”

Wu Heng was leaning against a pile of stones, wrist resting on his knee, eyes closed as he tried to rest.

The rain had stopped, but the sky was still heavy and dim, as if holding back another downpour. The air grew colder, and Wu Heng’s face grew paler—so pale it seemed soft and translucent. The usual gloom about him eased somewhat.

The water in the iron pot hadn’t fully boiled yet. Bubbles rose, steam curling upward, and the faint warmth made everyone’s hearts quiet down.

Ruan Silian gently worked through the girl’s tangled hair, trying to be as soft as she could, but there was no avoiding the small stings—there were knots, and bits of leaves and grass caught in between.

“Does it hurt?”

Wu Zhi held back her tears. “No.”

Ruan Silian tilted her head, noticing how Wu Zhi was watching Wu Heng from afar—unhappy but not daring to show it. She smiled. “Wu Heng has such a gentle temper. Maybe he just doesn’t know how to braid hair?”

“Big brother knows how,” Wu Zhi said stubbornly. “And he’s really good at it. He just doesn’t want to bother with me.”

“Why wouldn’t he want to? You’re his little sister.”

Wu Zhi slowly lowered her head and said nothing.

The water reached a full boil, bubbling over. Behind the drifting steam, Lin Mengzhi and Du Yaoyuan came running back, laughing, their arms full of bags.

“We found something!” Du Yaoyuan dumped a huge bundle of long, tender greens onto the ground—like sticks but juicy. “Mutated water spinach!”

He jumped onto the open patch and tossed the whole sheaf down; it must’ve weighed dozens of jin.

Shen She handed his cello to Ji Zelan, walked over to the greens, pinched a leaf between his fingers and exclaimed in surprise, “For something that big it’s still so crisp.”

Du Yaoyuan pulled a bottled water from his pocket and guzzled it. “We saw it in a yard. If the class rep hadn’t said it was water spinach, I’d have thought it was a clump of bamboo.”

Behind him came Lin Mengzhi. The moment he returned he started scanning the area for Wu Heng. “A’Heng!”

Wu Heng was almost asleep; he lifted his eyes and gave just a little look.

Lin Mengzhi was carrying a sheep on his shoulder as big as a pig.

Wu Heng slowly opened his eyes properly and sat up, swallowing. “Where did the sheep come from?” he asked.

“X caught it. It was just wandering around picking at things, then suddenly bolted off and I heard a whole chorus of baa-ing and clucking,” Lin Mengzhi said, beaming with pride and excitement. “When it came back it had this sheep in its jaws. So cool, so cool—honestly I wanted to trade with it and get a pair of wings, that would be awesome.”

Xue Qi leaned against his wheelchair. “Then from now on the airspace is its territory.”

X—who’d only half-understood the word “airspace”—squatted and called, “A’Heng.”

Wu Heng couldn’t be bothered to explain the noun. He stared at the sheep’s snowy-white fleece. “Is it… dead?”

“Dead. X scratched it to death.” Lin Mengzhi was holding a knife, unsure how to proceed.

“I’ll do it.”

Shen She had already rolled up his sleeves. His hands were clean and pale, untouched by even a speck of dirt. Forget slaughtering a sheep—just seeing him hold a knife felt strangely out of place.

Lin Mengzhi hesitated. “You sure? It’s a mutated sheep—it’s not gonna be that easy.”

Shen She took the knife from his hand.

He crouched in front of the carcass, which was as big as a small hill, and lifted one of its hind legs. The knife tip slid cleanly into the bend of the leg; with a soft tearing sound, the blade cut upward along the thigh. The skin and fleece parted smoothly. He gripped the underside with his other hand and gave a light pull—one whole leg came off clean.

A few of the others couldn’t help wincing, turning their faces away.

Lin Mengzhi grimaced, catching a faint glimpse of something familiar in Shen She’s composure—something reminiscent of his old friend.

“You actually know how to do that?”

Shen She, still in spotless white clothes with only a few mud specks on his trouser cuffs, continued his work with calm precision—his movements completely at odds with his refined appearance. “I used to watch tutorials like this back home,” he said evenly. “Very relaxing.”

Though most of them pretended to look elsewhere, their ears were keenly tuned to his every motion—after all, the thing in his hands was about to be their dinner.

Hearing his casual tone, a chill ran faintly down their spines. Then, almost guiltily, they busied themselves with other tasks.

“How do we prep the water spinach?” someone asked.

“Hey, this shirt fits me—who brought it back? Thanks.”

Lin Mengzhi got another fire going. There was plenty of wooden furniture around; after sorting and breaking it down, it burned hot and steady. He pulled a few steel rods from a chunk of concrete, twisted them together, and fashioned a crude but sturdy grill.

After rinsing the mud off the grill in a puddle nearby, Lin Mengzhi propped it up over the fire.

Dou Lu hugged her knees. “This feels kind of… primitive.”

Feeling disdained, Lin Mengzhi scoffed. “Be glad we didn’t have to rub sticks together to make a fire.”

While the cooking tools were being prepared, Shen She had already skinned the entire mutated sheep. Not a trace of meat clung to the hide, and the cuts followed the muscle lines neatly—his knife work was sharp and precise.

“I’ll leave the cooking to you. My mother and I are both terrible at it,” Shen She said as he handed the knife back to Lin Mengzhi, then sat down on a rock beside Xue Qi.

Ji Zelan frowned. “Stress relief? What kind of stress do you even have?”

Shen She pretended not to hear.

Clang.

Lin Mengzhi tossed two hefty sheep legs onto the grill, the weight making it shudder.

“If only we had some cooking wine—it’d get rid of the gamey smell,” Dou Lu added.

Du Yaoyuan rolled his eyes. “If mutton isn’t gamey, what’s the point of eating it?”

Lin Mengzhi disliked Du Yaoyuan and couldn’t be bothered to respond. He simply spread most of the mutton evenly over the grill, then tossed one leg toward Chen Meng, who was tied up nearby. “Dr. Chen, Xue Shen said to save a portion for you.”

The scent of blood had long since awakened the zombie’s hunger. Chen Meng snatched up the leg and began devouring it, eating like a beast.

The others turned their eyes away, stomachs growling, waiting hungrily for the meal to be ready.

From the pile of scavenged supplies, Lin Mengzhi dug out several packets of seasoning, picking out the essentials—oil and salt. Among the heap were also chili powder, pepper, and a variety of grimy bottles and jars scattered about like a pile of junk.

He spread a layer of cooking oil evenly over one side of the mutton, then flipped it over to coat the other. As the meat was seared by the fierce flames, the mutton fat dripped into the fire one drop after another, sizzling as white smoke curled up in waves. The smell of roasting meat soon filled the air.

“This might be the most like a real meal I’ve had in ages.”

“Feels like I’m not a beggar anymore.”

“Like being human again.”

“…Lin Mengzhi, the way you cook reminds me of my mom.”

In the midst of the cheerful chatter, that one out-of-place remark made the whole atmosphere instantly freeze and sink into silence.

“Let’s not bring that up for a while,” Ruan Silian said softly as she laid out disposable bowls on the ground and started fishing out noodles. “Several people here have lost their mothers.”

No one spoke after that. Time trickled by, second by second.

The steam reddened Ruan Silian’s face until she couldn’t even open her eyes properly, and she struggled to keep ladling the noodles. Seeing this, Du Yaoyuan, who had been lying flat in exhaustion, immediately scooted over. “Move aside—I’ll do it.”

“Where’s my brother?” Xue Qi glanced around. Everyone had returned except Xue Shen, who was still nowhere in sight.

Lin Mengzhi replied, “He said he wanted to find a basin, see if he can grow some water spinach.”

“Boring,” Xue Qi muttered, curling his lip.

The mutton was nearly done. The flames controlled by the fire-ability user were far hotter than any ordinary fire, and with Lin Mengzhi personally in charge of cooking, the blaze roasting the meat seemed almost obedient.

“Can we really eat mutated plants and animals? What if we turn into monsters after eating them?”

Ever since the earthquake, Ying Liuquan’s presence had faded to nearly nothing. Now, he stared nervously at the roasted mutton, its skin already crisping up to a golden layer.

Du Yaoyuan, who was scooping out noodles, felt instantly irritated. “Didn’t Wu Heng eat some already? He’s fine, isn’t he? If someone without powers can eat it, what the hell are you worried about?”

“You’re supposed to be a teacher, aren’t you? None of us are acting like you. Could you at least try to act like one? If you can’t help, then stop dragging everyone down!”

Du Yaoyuan’s anger spiked at the thought of how Ying Liuquan’s mistake had nearly gotten Shen Ping’an killed in that pitcher plant trap earlier. He was so furious he could’ve kicked him right then and there.

Ying Liuquan hunched his shoulders, face pale. “I’m sorry…”

Du Yaoyuan, still fuming, flung the bowl of instant noodles in his hand at him. The bowl didn’t overturn—by sheer luck it landed upright—but a few drops of scalding broth splashed onto the young man’s face. The humiliation stung even worse than being doused head-on.

“Goddamn it, Teacher Ying, you’re something else. Seriously, you’re unbelievable. I’ve never met a teacher like you—you’re worse than a damn cowardly woman!” Du Yaoyuan shouted, stamping his feet in rage as Ying Liuquan trembled uncontrollably.

Some distance away, Xie Chongyi, who was bent over watering his plants, turned his head slightly. His gaze was cool and detached as it flicked toward Du Yaoyuan. “Du Yaoyuan. That’s enough.”

Ying Liuquan looked utterly terrified, as if his nerves had finally snapped.

Ruan Silian sighed. She unwrapped a pair of disposable chopsticks and quietly walked over, placing them gently into his hands. “Mr. Ying, don’t be scared. Du Yaoyuan just worries too much, that’s all. Try to eat a little, okay?”

Lin Mengzhi paid no attention to their argument. Half a cook himself, he knew his meat. Once the roasted mutton was fully done, he sliced off half a rack of ribs and a whole tenderloin, then brought them over to Wu Heng.

“It’s a mutated sheep. Once it’s cooked, it shouldn’t taste bad,” Lin Mengzhi said. He knew Wu Heng now preferred raw meat, but as half a cook—and as his childhood friend—he still believed cooked food was safer.

Out of respect, Wu Heng used his knife to slice off a rib that smelled perfectly charred and fragrant. He wasn’t exactly hungry, but his appetite had long since become something uncontrollable.

He took a bite. The mutton was tender and juicy—nothing like the ordinary lamb he’d eaten before.

“Delicious,” he said simply. Not worse than raw meat at all.

“Okay, then stop eating raw stuff from now on, or you’ll end up with a stomach full of parasites…” Lin Mengzhi called over his shoulder as he ran back to the grill to divide the rest of the roasted lamb among the others.

By then, Xue Shen finally returned—empty-handed.

“Brother, where’s your water spinach?” Xue Qi asked.

Xue Shen, drenched in sweat, found a spot to sit down. “The roots were too tough, and I couldn’t find a proper basin. Forget it.”

Now that everyone was present, they finally sat down to a proper meal—hot soup, warm dishes, and roasted lamb that could rival any barbecue restaurant’s. Nobody had the time or will to talk; all mouths were occupied with eating.

X’s share consisted of the pile of the mutated sheep’s internal organs. Standing on the highest point nearby, it ate while keeping a wary eye on the surroundings. Lowering its beak, it clamped onto a bloody strand of intestine and slurped it down like noodles, its beak smeared with red.

The calorie demand and energy output of ability users far exceeded that of ordinary humans. They had cooked seven or eight pots of instant noodles, and even entire bundles of water spinach—taller and thicker than a man—had been devoured like a gust of wind sweeping through leaves. As for the roasted mutton, that rare “luxury item,” not a single scrap of meat was left unpicked from the bones.

The ordinary humans among them—Ji Zelan, Ruan Silian, and the others without powers—couldn’t eat much no matter how hungry they were. Ying Liuquan, whose mental state already seemed on the verge of collapse, only took a few bites before setting his chopsticks down, curling up silently in a corner.

“I can die happy now!” Dou Lu declared after finishing her meal. She tossed her plastic bowl aside, picked up a stray leaf of water spinach from the ground, and stuffed it into her mouth.

“Oh right, Du Yaoyuan,” Xue Shen said, glancing over. “Did you bring the toiletries I asked for?”

“I did, I did.”

Xue Shen nodded. “Good. Everyone should brush their teeth after eating. Someone’s breath was really bad earlier.”

“……”

“Class rep, seriously?” Dou Lu groaned, looking up at the sky. “At a time like this? We’re alive, that’s already something.”

Wu Heng never joined their banter. After eating, he crouched by a puddle that had collected a good amount of rainwater and washed his hands. A few thin vine tendrils reached into the puddle, absorbed some water, and quickly retracted.

“Here.”

A bottle of mineral water suddenly appeared in front of him—it was Shen Ping’an. In his other hand, he held a toothbrush with toothpaste already squeezed on.

Wu Heng scooted aside a little. “You’re brushing your teeth?”

Shen Ping’an bent down and pressed both the bottle and toothbrush into his hands.

Completely bewildered, Wu Heng tilted his head back and took a mouthful of water to rinse his mouth, then began brushing his teeth.

A short while later, a tall, slender figure crouched down beside him—Xie Chongyi. He carried a bottle of mineral water, which he opened and poured half over his left hand, then half over his right.

Wu Heng’s peripheral gaze lingered on him the whole time.

Does he have a cleanliness obsession?

“Class Monitor,” Wu Heng mumbled around his toothbrush, “does my breath stink?”

Without looking at him, Xie Chongyi replied in a lazy, indifferent tone, “It stinks to death.”

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