Chapter 91: Virus
Li Qing had completely turned into an ant—an ant who was the queen among ants.
Yet what appeared in Wu Heng’s mind was not “infection,” but “inheritance.”
Between humans, between humans and animals and plants, between animals and animals, and animals and plants—all life on Earth, whether within a single species or across different species, shares the same core in reproduction, psychological needs, physical and spiritual evolution: the inheritance of a species’ civilization.
In the future, he himself was very likely to also become an “ant.”
To protect the one called the queen—the axis of their colony—the yellow-ring ants threw themselves at the humans blocking their way with unprecedented madness.
Vines shot up from below, gravel bursting outward. A whole swath of bamboo forest was uprooted and overturned. The shredded ant swarm fell like razor-edged shells cascading down.
Soft vines coiled around the queen’s body. Just like before mutation, the queen was primarily responsible for reproduction; her offensive power within the colony was far from kingly. Wu Heng pulled her close in front of him.
Between heaven and earth, this was the very last queen ant.
In the foul, blood-scented mist, the queen struggled and twisted within the vines’ constriction.
Her three pairs of compound eyes were a deep, evil crimson, yet if one looked closely, they still carried a maternal gentleness and acceptance.
Wu Heng reached in and extracted the energy core from her body. Expressionless, he snapped her into two halves and tossed them down from midair.
“A’Qing!” Below, Du Weichen screamed toward the sky. After the queen’s corpse hit the ground, he rushed over. “A’Qing! A’Qing… We said we’d return home in glory someday…”
Once they were back on the ground, Wu Heng and Wu Dian each held an energy core. The difference was that, after testing, Lan Qingqiu’s energy core in Wu Dian’s hand was recorded as a very low D-level, while Li Qing’s energy core in Wu Heng’s hand matched the original estimate: B-level.
Wu Dian attempted to pick up both cores to compare them.
Wu Heng held tightly to Li Qing’s energy core and refused to let go. “It’s just the passing and continuation of life,” he said. “Nothing worth making a fuss about.”
After speaking, he put the energy core into his own pocket.
“…” Wu Dian’s expression remained calm, but he cast a scrutinizing gaze at Xie Chongyi’s face beside him. “I finally understand why you two get along so well.”
Yue Shanqing cut in, “What do we do next?”
“Go down the mountain, head to Kuhuang,” Wu Dian said.
“I’m not going.” Wu Heng raised his hand briefly, then put it down. “I’m going to dig up bamboo.”
Wu Dian took Wu Heng’s hand and pressed a testing pen against the inside of his wrist.
“A?” He put the testing pen away and then took out a sampling kit. “I need to draw your blood.”
Wu Heng didn’t dislike Wu Dian; he didn’t even pull his hand back.
Wu Dian bent slightly, his fingers gently tracing the veins beneath the boy’s thin skin. He selected the thickest and straightest one. Just as the cold needle touched down, a slender, sharply defined hand suddenly reached in from the side and yanked Wu Heng away from Wu Dian.
“He’s not one of you Jingzhou people, and he’s not listed among the anomalous organisms. Even as a citizen, he hasn’t done anything to harm anyone. He has the right to refuse your testing and experiments,” Xie Chongyi said coldly.
“You’re not wrong,” Wu Dian admitted, packing away the sampling equipment. “But he’s a rare plant symbiote. His samples have extremely high experimental and social value.”
Wu Dian’s gaze drifted, his tone unchanged. “Every plant symbiote we’ve encountered so far has been overtaken by their plant counterpart. More than half lose human consciousness before reaching C-level. At B-level, the plant controls the human consciousness—but even then, they never advance past B. Your friend is already an A-level plant symbiote. He’s indeed a unique case among all our samples, but he cannot be a true exception—unless he was never human to begin with.”
Wu Heng extended his hand toward Wu Dian. “Draw it.”
Poppy had indeed shown strange behavior earlier—but back then, he didn’t know that the probability of a plant symbiote being overtaken was one hundred percent.
After drawing the blood, Wu Dian rummaged in his pack and took out a small spray bottle containing several milliliters. “Insect repellent, developed specially by the lab.” He tossed the spray into Wu Heng’s arms and turned to leave.
“Insect repellent?”
“Your child,” Xie Chongyi reminded the youth, half-smiling, half-not.
Several vines burst up from underground—an entire bundle of them—lush, thriving, green leaves overflowing with vitality.
Xie Chongyi found the vine that had been stung by the yellow-ring ants even faster than Wu Heng did. He grabbed it in his hand and also took the insect repellent from Wu Heng.
In a corner of the battlefield, the two crouched down. Wu Heng plopped straight onto the ground, while Xie Chongyi squatted. A single vine wound around both of them, its tip hooked over Xie Chongyi’s ear, twitching eagerly.
Wu Heng held onto Xie Chongyi’s shoulder, his gaze dimming. “Class Monitor, it wants to suck your brain.”
Xie Chongyi twisted open the insect repellent. “Let it try.”
As he said this, a pungent spray misted across the vine’s surface. Wu Heng muttered, “Cold,” then leaned in to observe carefully.
It was an insect repellent, not an insecticide. One by one, semi-developed larvae broke through the bulging spots, tearing their way out and falling to the ground—some landing on their backs, some on their fronts. Those that fell back-up quickly flipped themselves over. The young ants scattered everywhere like headless flies.
The two watched silently, neither speaking nor intervening.
Wu Heng slowly straightened up. “I read Lan Qingqiu’s diary just now. In the first two-thirds, she still describes her feelings from a human perspective. But near the end, her perspective shifts…”
“To that of an ant?” Xie Chongyi tilted his head, raising a brow.
“That woman was the same.” Wu Heng’s black hair fell forward, covering his eyes; his hair had begun growing very quickly now.
Xie Chongyi showed no surprise. He lifted his chin slightly toward the direction where the yellow-ring ant larvae scattered. “They’ll grow into a new colony.”
Wu Heng narrowed his eyes. He recalled how he had brushed Wu Dian off a few minutes earlier—that everything was merely the passing and continuation of life. Ants, humans… in essence, there was no difference.
After all the eggs on the vine were cleared away, Xie Chongyi’s sharp eyes caught sight of Wu Heng’s purpling hand. He leaned forward and took Wu Heng’s hand into his own.
Wu Heng followed Xie Chongyi’s gaze and turned his attention to the dark-purple blotch on the back of his hand. It had been a long time since he’d had bruising like this.
Xie Chongyi took out a dagger and slit open the skin on Wu Heng’s hand. Purple-black, foul blood surged out. The vines wrapped around the two of them were already trembling in pain—an injury to their host hurt far more than an injury to themselves. They practically wished they could take his place.
“Many ants are poisonous, though usually not fatally. But the venom of post-apocalyptic ants shouldn’t be underestimated. It might turn you into an ant as well.” From within Xie Chongyi’s sleeve crawled a black creature—a type of myriapod, every leg thick and powerful, roughly the size of a palm. Its body was long, ink-black from head to tail, its abdomen covered in soft black fuzz, and its head dotted with tiny eyes.
Once it emerged, it froze, as if distinguishing directions. Its body remained still.
Whoosh! A gray blur streaked across.
“X!”
Gulp.
Looking immensely proud, X swallowed the bug whole.
The moment it hit its stomach, X began twisting its neck irritably. It tilted its head left and right, until the feathers on its front neck started falling off. Beneath the tender pink skin, the silhouette of the black creature appeared and disappeared.
Xie Chongyi sighed. “Wu Heng, I don’t think I’ve ever told you about my other ability.”
“My second ability… the lab named it Virus.”
Wu Heng understood immediately. He grabbed X at once, pried open its beak, and stuck his fingers down its throat. The bug, still lively, clung tightly to his finger as it left the parrot’s body.
X retched violently, wings pressed to its neck. “What the hell—what the hell was that?!”
The creature continued its task. It loosened its grip on Wu Heng’s finger and climbed onto the wound on the back of his blood-soaked hand. Its limbs slackened as it collapsed over the injury.
Its mouthparts were actually on its abdomen.
Wu Heng felt a numbing, tingling sensation, and the bug’s abdomen began to swell.
When it finished, its body went stiff. Then—its abdomen burst open violently, sending shards of black chitin scattering across the ground.
After pondering for a moment, Wu Heng suddenly understood.
Xie Chongyi, Wu Dian, and that man called Sheng Jiang—they all came from Jingzhou, and through the same method, whether by luck or misfortune, gained special abilities that were different from ordinary post-apocalyptic powers, abilities bordering on the uncanny.
That wasn’t important; he didn’t care about their life experiences.
What mattered was that each of them carried a natural fragrance—subtle differences, but all of them smelled… very good.
According to what Xie Chongyi had said earlier, the people who came out of that laboratory weren’t limited to just the three of them. The others were likely also in Jingzhou.
Meaning—he now had more options.
Xie Chongyi was no longer his only one.
Wu Heng’s heartbeat sped up uncontrollably; even his breathing quickened and warmed.
He closed his eyes and pondered, running through every possible way to prepare food in his mind.
But the most delicious ingredients often required the simplest cooking.
Raw was best.
“You all have different abilities,” Wu Heng said, looking at Xie Chongyi.
“Mhm.”
“Who’s the strongest?” Wu Heng planned to start with the weakest.
Xie Chongyi raised a brow, posture relaxed but gaze sharpening. “Who exactly are you concerned about?”
Wu Heng didn’t even hesitate. “You.”
He didn’t feel there was anything wrong with his answer. He shut his mouth tightly and thought—he had always been extremely concerned about Xie Chongyi, perhaps even more than he cared about Lin Mengzhi. He wasn’t trying to move himself emotionally; he wanted to move Xie Chongyi.
Sincerity can carve through metal and stone.
Of course, he could attack him—whether he won or not, even taking one bite would be satisfying.
But Wu Heng felt that would be meaningless. It would ruin the value of his waiting and reduce Xie Chongyi to being just another piece of food—completely unremarkable.
He was willing to give Xie Chongyi special treatment.
He believed he could wait for the day when the class monitor would carve his own body along the grain of his muscles and bones, arrange the pieces neatly on a gleaming white porcelain plate, and invite Wu Heng to taste him.
Ungrateful, Wu Heng thought to himself, then curved his eyes into a smile—a bright yet frail, messy little devil.
Xie Chongyi assumed his current state must look utterly disgraceful; anything once towering and magnificent, when it collapses suddenly, becomes unrecognizable.
He could feel himself sinking uncontrollably—falling into the hands of a half-mad, gloomy liar.
And the one who is falling always knows best just how clear-headed the instigator truly is.
Xie Chongyi wasn’t stupid enough to brainwash himself, nor was he so starved for affection.
So he strode away.
But just as Nüwa needed rainbow stones to mend the heavens, the cracks in him required something specific to restore them.
For now, they could only remain exposed, battered by wind and rain.
Wu Heng, holding the drowsy X—who had nearly been infected by Xie Chongyi—slowly leaned back against the rock behind him.
Sometimes he also wondered what his food was thinking.
Why was he unhappy?
Why was he angry again?
—
The collected energy cores were piled into a small mountain.
Wu Dian’s satchel was like a treasure chest; he produced a blue sphere from within.
When the sphere lit up, every energy core on the ground vanished.
Before anyone could ask, Wu Dian explained on his own: “When we reach Kuhuang, some of the cores will be handed to the families of the fallen ability users. The rest—those who contributed more get more.”
Only then did the group have no objection. It made sense; if Wu Dian hadn’t intervened, none of them would’ve been able to carry so many energy cores back.
After confirming repeatedly that the magnetic anomaly had disappeared, Wu Dian asked if everyone planned to return. More or less everyone nodded.
Except Wu Heng.
Wu Heng pointed at Xie Chongyi. “We still have things to do.”
Wu Dian knew the two were close. He nodded. “Be careful.”
They had come with more than a dozen people, yet fewer than five were returning: Wu Dian, Yue Shanqing, Zheng Xi, and Du Weichen—who was crying to the point of dizziness.
After the four disappeared into the bamboo forest, Xie Chongyi stood with his hands in his pockets and said coolly, “I never said I’d stay with you.”
Wu Heng thought it over carefully, then took Xie Chongyi’s hand. “But you stayed.”
He had grown taller than before.
When looking at Xie Chongyi’s face, he no longer needed to tilt his head so far back—just a slight lift of his eyes let him meet the other’s gaze directly.
“Class monitor, don’t treat me like this… okay?”
That tone—somewhere between pleading and coquettish—unsurprisingly detonated the already gloomy Xie Chongyi.
He seized Wu Heng’s wrist in return, wrapped an arm around his waist, and forced him back step after step until Wu Heng’s back hit a bamboo stalk.
But only his steps stopped; the rest did not.
Being stared at so brightly by Wu Heng’s lively gray-green eyes, Xie Chongyi found it nearly impossible not to take it as a wordless provocation.
The boy tilted his head and kissed Wu Heng.
As soon as their lips met, Xie Chongyi pried open his teeth without hesitation.
Wu Heng’s mouth softened immediately.
Leaning against the thick bamboo, he breathed in Xie Chongyi’s heat and scent; his fingers lightly hooked around Xie Chongyi’s, a soft hum of pleasure slipping from his nose.
Xie Chongyi gripped Wu Heng’s chin with one hand.
His kisses, like the man himself, were not easy to deal with—heavy, deep, and relentlessly possessive, refusing to spare even a single corner of Wu Heng’s mouth.
And today, that kiss was threaded with unmistakable irritation.
Even in the comfort of it, Wu Heng could feel faint stings along the tip of his tongue.
Xie Chongyi released his chin, and the kiss softened.
He brushed aside the messy hair on Wu Heng’s forehead, and in the slow, rubbing caress of lips and tongue, he half-opened his eyes—sharp, clear, closely observing him.
The youth kept his eyes closed, lids faintly raised, brows occasionally twitching—utterly immersed.
Xie Chongyi had long known Wu Heng was a heartless creature.
Yet even a kiss that began with such roughness—he could still enjoy it.
Seeing this wholehearted hedonism, Xie Chongyi suddenly no longer felt annoyed.
He found Wu Heng increasingly interesting…
and liking him became interesting too.
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Author’s note:
Wu Heng: breathes
Xie Chongyi: Clever tactics.