“Sorry, I’m not interested in men. Please give up.”

A muscular, well-built mature man wearing a tight tank top and shorts, carrying a gym bag, finally walked up to a thin man in a suit and lowered his voice as he spoke, clearly at the end of his patience.

Wu Heng: “???”

“Excuse me… are you talking to me?”

The man froze for a moment, then fled in embarrassment.

“He thought you had a crush on him,” the café staff explained.

“Because every day after he placed his order, you would order an identical extra-strong iced Americano.”

The employee actually had a very good impression of this customer.

He seemed to work nearby. Every morning without fail, he came in for an iced Americano. Even when the shop was busy, he never rushed anyone—he would just quietly stand to the side and wait.

He was so quiet that he seemed almost melancholic, even out of place.

He always wore a black suit. In summer, he would take off the jacket and wear a white shirt instead, but no matter the season, he only ever drank extra-strong iced Americanos.

The man from earlier did the same.

And because their timings were always one after the other, it led to a misunderstanding.

Love had not yet come into Wu Heng’s life.

Although in university a few girls had confessed to him, he felt nothing for them. He didn’t place much importance on love, because he had never experienced it—but he still believed those girls should date someone who truly loved them.

After graduation, he stayed in this city.

An older senior invited him to help at his company. Their artificial intelligence project happened to ride the wave of the times, and even someone as socially inept and uncharismatic as Wu Heng managed to buy a small apartment and accumulate a considerable amount of savings.

His life was simple.

So simple that it was almost dull.

Most of the people in the company were from his university. In fact, a large portion were his seniors.

They were familiar with his personality, so they never forced him into messy social activities or unnecessary gatherings.

Wu Heng went to work, got off work, and lived alone. He carried no burdens, and had no particular motivation.

But he was still young—not yet in his thirties. He was only twenty-six that year. When he wasn’t wearing a suit, he still looked like a university student.

Yet his eyes lacked vitality. He seemed tired. He was always unhappy—not exactly sad, just… unhappy. Sometimes even that feeling could be ignored.

And so he lived in the city like a quiet wandering ghost.

Until New Year’s, when he kept his promise and went back to have dinner with Lin Mengzhi. He was then dragged into a reunion room by several boys from his high school class—people he had recently refused to attend a gathering with.

Wu Heng hadn’t expected everyone to be there.

Though he couldn’t remember most of them. He only vaguely recalled that a few of them had been quite good-looking.

Lin Mengzhi, unwilling to let him feel awkward, followed him in. But he quickly blended in, singing loudly with everyone else, even more like an old classmate than Wu Heng himself.

Wearing a sweater, Wu Heng sat in a corner.

After half a cup of beer, his face had already turned red.

Someone kept squeezing into the sofa beside him on the left. With no other choice, Wu Heng stood up and moved to another seat on the right.

But when he sat down again—

The surface beneath him was warm and soft.

A muffled sound came from below him.

He had sat on someone.

“Sorry,” Wu Heng quickly stood up. “It’s too dark here, I didn’t see.”

The person beneath him still had a coat draped over his head. He pulled it down, and their eyes met in the shifting light above the room.

For some reason, that lazy, restrained expression felt strangely familiar.

But the other person had already called his name first.

“Wu Heng. Long time no see.”

“Want to go outside for a walk? It’s too noisy in here—my head hurts.”

Xie Chongyi sat up, folding his coat in his hands.

“Are you really going out like that?”

Wu Heng said, “My coat is in the next private room. I’ll go get it.”

“Let’s go together.”

Wu Heng’s overcoat was Klein blue, and his scarf was black.

Xie Chongyi’s outfit was the exact opposite. When he saw it, he couldn’t help but laugh.

“Coincidence.”

“My childhood friend picked it out for me,” Wu Heng said. “He said my wardrobe is full of black clothes, so I should wear something brighter for New Year’s.”

“Then you should’ve worn red,” Xie Chongyi replied.

A look of mild disgust appeared on Wu Heng’s face.

Outside, the air was cold but fresh and quiet. There were few people and few cars on the road. Only rows of red lanterns hung from the trees, glowing warmly. Most shops were closed.

Xie Chongyi went to buy two instant Nestlé coffees for them to warm their hands. As they walked, they talked.

“I remember you didn’t talk much even back in school, and you rarely joined group activities. I didn’t expect you to stay the same after working. Is this your first class reunion?”

“Mm.” Wu Heng glanced at him.

No matter which city it was, no matter how big it was, that face was always striking—rarely seen.

He looked at it again, then again, without hiding it.

“And you? What are you doing now?” he asked.

“I’m in the capital. Office job. Nine to five.”

“I’m also in the capital.”

“That’s good. We can grab dinner after work sometime when we’re free. I know the capital pretty well.”

“How many days off do you have?” Wu Heng asked.

“Until the ninth day of the Lunar New Year. But I’ll leave tomorrow—I don’t have many relatives here.”

“Back to the capital?”

“No. I’m going to New Zealand for a few days, back on the eighth.”

‘How interesting,’ Wu Heng thought.

While he lived a dull life with nothing but work and home, completely unchanged and uneventful, someone else’s life could be so vivid, so full of movement and vitality.

He didn’t speak after that.

He simply lowered his eyes and walked quietly beside him.

Xie Chongyi kept observing him from the side the entire time, but Wu Heng never noticed.

In the man’s eyes, there was a trace of disappointment—so clear that it made him start wondering whether he had ever done something wrong to him at some point.

But there shouldn’t have been.

Xie Chongyi, like everyone else, hadn’t seen him in many years. He looked much healthier and more striking than he had in high school. Back then, his clothes were always wrinkled and outdated, even his school uniform looked dull compared to others.

He must have lived well these past years—but his personality hadn’t changed at all.

There were still many things hidden in his eyes, as if he was constantly suppressing something intense and restless.

“Want to go to New Zealand together? I haven’t planned a route anyway.”

White breath drifted in the cold air as Xie Chongyi spoke.

Wu Heng’s eyes widened slightly.

But he didn’t refuse.

He nodded.

He had money now.

The two of them stood by the roadside, holding their phones, adding each other as contacts on the spot.

When filling in the remark name, Xie Chongyi typed Wu Heng’s name without hesitation.

But then Wu Heng asked, “What’s your name?”

“?”

“??”

“???”

Xie Chongyi forcefully ruffled his hair, then put his phone away.

“Figure it out yourself.”

(THE END.)

<<

**TN

Really, it’s the end. XD

The post Eaten Ch.238 first appeared on A Wandering Potato.

Ten years after the apocalypse.

Humanity had underestimated its own capacity for survival. In the torrent of millions of years, they had almost forgotten—if not for the apocalypse—that they had once risen from nothing.

Ten years was enough time for the human race to catch its breath. Though the glory of the old world could not yet be fully restored, the days of living from one moment to the next were finally gone forever.

The city of Suyou had become the center from which development spread outward in all directions. Nestled along the coast, it shone like a brilliant pearl. Roads stretched across the continent like giant dragons, connecting every region. Streets and alleys spread like stars across the land. Humanity, once scattered and fleeing in all directions, had become closely connected again. Cultures that had crumbled into dust were pieced back together, and the wounds of the past were filled with flowers.

Wu Heng still lived in the same house as before.

He remained the guardian of Suyou. The marine creatures that had grown too large to return to the sea never dared come ashore to cause trouble. Occasionally, when the city lord went fishing, they would even bite the hook on purpose as a gesture of goodwill.

A miserable life for a fish!

A week earlier, Xie Chongyi had been dispatched to Sha City. The city’s climate was cold and arid, and suddenly the few available water sources had stopped flowing. Xie Chongyi had said he would go take a look—and that look had lasted an entire week.

To the longtime residents of Suyou City, this was nothing unusual.

After all, Suyou was an old city with a long history. Assisting in the construction and development of other cities was not only easy for them, but also something they felt obligated to do. The city’s ability users were frequently sent elsewhere on assignments. In the early years, these deployments had been even more frequent; being away from home for more than half a month was normal. Things were better now, and life had become a little more relaxed.

North of Suyou, winter had already arrived.

But Suyou City remained spring-like all year round.

Wu Heng went out wearing only a hoodie.

He still got his hair cut on schedule.

X had left Suyou together with Xie Chongyi because it thought the city was too small and cramped for its adventurous spirit. It wanted to roam the wider world, leaving only Shukui behind to keep the “empty-nest old man” company.

Shukui trotted closely beside Wu Heng, a leash looped around its neck.

That was city law.

Walking a dog without a leash would not only earn a fine, but also a day of mandatory community cleaning duty. Even the city lord’s dog was no exception.

Passing by a snack shop, Wu Heng bought Shukui a hot dog. Shukui swallowed it whole like someone gulping down a ginseng fruit.

Having given it a treat, Wu Heng then calmly dropped Shukui off at a pet store without the slightest hesitation.

At the moment, Shukui was the most normal-looking creature in the entire shop.

“Um, City Lord, you can leave the dog with us and go about your business first,” an employee said awkwardly. “The owner is currently polishing a snake. It’s over twenty meters long, so it’ll take quite a while.”

“I’m going to get a haircut. I’ll come back later to pick it up.”

As usual, Wu Heng only had his hair trimmed a little shorter.

He had never been particularly sensitive about hair length, and Xie Chongyi never cared either. He had once tried cutting it extremely short—even shorter than it had been in high school—and nobody commented on it.

Nobody, that is, except the poppy.

These days, the poppy had little to do and its sense of presence was already quite low. If Wu Heng’s hair became too short, who would even remember it existed?

For a period when Wu Heng’s hair had grown longer, the poppy had actually replaced some of his hair, turning his head into a mass of green vines. During that time, Wu Heng had practically been too embarrassed to go out. And even when he did leave the house, the poppy would make sure nobody got a clear look at his face.

“Don’t cut it too short,” Wu Heng instructed.

Then he leaned back in the chair and fell asleep.

Even though winters in Suyou were warm and spring-like, he still tended to sleep more during this season.

When the haircut was finished, the poppy immediately became unhappy again. It spread wildly throughout the salon, covering the place in vines. The owner jumped around frantically, shouting,

“I really only trimmed a little! What exactly do you want from me?!”

Wu Heng woke up, paid compensation for the damaged property, and threatened the poppy with punishment if it continued causing trouble.

That finally made it behave.

Then it started acting spoiled and asked for people to eat.

Crime would never disappear, no matter the era. It could emerge at any time, in forms beyond the imagination of ordinary people.

More often than not, the harshest punishment for serious criminals was execution. Some nations had abolished the death penalty, and after the apocalypse even more countries followed suit in an effort to demonstrate their respect for life.

But Suyou had not forgotten the old principles handed down by its ancestors:

Those who deserved death would die.

The difference was that their deaths would be made more useful.

By now, everyone agreed that the poppy was a man-eating flower.

And so, it was common knowledge throughout Suyou City what fate awaited those sentenced to death there.

The saying “Wu Heng can stop a child from crying at night” had become reality.

Wu Heng’s very existence was more effective than any instrument of torture.

Yet to this day, no one had ever personally witnessed him carrying out an execution.

He always sat high upon the judgment platform, always wearing that same indifferent expression, as though nothing and no one in the world concerned him. Alone, he seemed to bloom and wither like the seasons themselves.

Everyone knew the rules if they needed a favor from him.

Either go at night, or go when the weather began to cool.

At those times, the plants around him would be preparing to sleep.

Of the two options, the latter was preferable, because people who visited at night were often chased away by Xie Chongyi wielding a broom.

Still, there were always those who gambled on luck—or simply no longer cared whether they lived or died—and chose to commit crimes.

As a result, the poppy had never gone hungry.

After eating a late-night snack, Wu Heng picked up Shukui from the pet shop, and the man and dog returned home together.

Inside, Jiang Lian had already come back from school and prepared dinner.

“I already ate outside.”

Only after hearing that did Jiang Lian stop waiting. He ate dinner by himself, fed Shukui, and then went upstairs to sleep.

After Jiang Lian went upstairs, Wu Heng remained in the living room, watching movies on old discs.

Over the past few years, he had watched nearly every disc that had survived from before the apocalypse.

It felt as though he were observing a completely different world.

Wu Heng had little interest in the future course of human civilization.

Perhaps influenced by him, the people of Suyou City were much the same.

What everyone cared about was whether they had slept well the previous night and whether today’s meal tasted good.

They still worked, still stored supplies, and were even more vigilant than before about preparing for potential dangers. But unlike people in the old days, they no longer pursued any single goal at all costs.

Of course, if they somehow had the ability to live without eating or drinking, that would be another matter.

As a result, Suyou City had enjoyed the most abundant food supplies for years.

Everything else could wait until after a full stomach.

And in the future, that principle was unlikely to change.

“Hello! Hello!”

A face suddenly appeared outside the floor-to-ceiling window.

Shukui, who had been sleeping beside the window, was startled awake. Its body instantly expanded in size until it towered above the second floor, hot breath pouring from its mouth.

Wu Heng turned his head half a beat later.

As expected, it was Lin Mengzhi.

Shukui immediately shrank back to its normal size, trotted over, opened the door with a paw, and began circling around the newly arrived guest.

“Come on, let’s go get something to eat!”

Lin Mengzhi looked travel-worn, clearly having just returned from a mission outside the city. Judging by his appearance, he had probably come straight to see the City Lord the moment he got back.

Leaving Shukui at home, Wu Heng went out with him.

As they walked, Lin Mengzhi recounted everything he had seen and experienced during this latest journey.

Human life, he said, was already much better than before.

Cities were being rebuilt. Fields could be cultivated again.

The only thing that had not changed was humanity’s reliance on ability users.

Mutated animals and plants still occasionally encroached upon human territory—just as they had in the past, except now they did so even more aggressively.

In many ways, they had become humanity’s equals.

Out in the western regions, mighty yaks and sheep raced across the grasslands like moving hills. Ordinary sheepdogs no longer commanded any respect from them. Without mutated dogs, it was impossible even to keep up with their speed.

The deep primeval forests had been sparsely visited even before the apocalypse.

Now they were more inaccessible than ever.

Scientific expeditions entering those jungles required larger and more specialized teams, with powerful ability users serving as indispensable security personnel.

Mutated plants and animals that invaded cities were driven out and eliminated. Those lurking underground were uprooted completely, then either burned or eaten.

Along the coast, several towering fortresses had been constructed.

Unlike observation towers, these served as the eyes of earth-element ability users. Even the slightest disturbance at sea could be detected immediately.

Setting aside the problems that arose from human beings themselves, the overall trend was unmistakable:

Things were flourishing.

After quietly listening to the entire report, Wu Heng finally asked:

“What are we eating?”

“Damn it! Is food all you ever think about?”

But really—

What could possibly be more important than a good meal?

Lin Mengzhi led Wu Heng to Dou Lu’s courtyard.

Walking behind him, Wu Heng could smell the scents of many familiar people lingering inside the house. He sniffed lightly and sensed something unusual, but not hostile. They had known one another for so many years that while practical jokes and mischief were common, genuine ill intent was almost nonexistent.

Without breaking stride, Wu Heng followed Lin Mengzhi inside.

To his surprise, the house was completely dark.

“Change your shoes first,” Lin Mengzhi said, tossing him a pair of slippers.

Wu Heng bent down to put them on.

Just then, he heard a slight movement behind him.

Before he could straighten up, someone wrapped an arm around his waist from behind. Cool lips pressed firmly against the back of his neck.

“Happy birthday.”

It was Xie Chongyi’s voice.

At that moment, all the lights in the house came on at once.

Many people who had been away had rushed back specifically for Wu Heng’s birthday.

“Da-da-da-da-da-da~~ Da-da-da-da-da-da~”

Xue Qi and Shen She emerged, pushing a birthday cake.

It wasn’t a towering multi-tiered cake, just an elegant ten-inch strawberry cake. Earlier that afternoon, several people had gone to Ao She’s strawberry greenhouse to pick the fruit themselves.

Geographically speaking, Suyou City wasn’t the sort of place where large, sweet strawberries should grow. But Ao She loved experimenting with crops, which was why the city enjoyed a steady supply of fruits all year round.

Xie Chongyi somehow produced a birthday hat from nowhere and placed the little crown on Wu Heng’s head.

“Make a wish.”

Then he urged him,

“Wish that we’ll be together through every lifetime, forever and ever.”

Wu Heng glanced at him.

“Am I making the wish, or are you?”

“Same thing.”

Xie Chongyi had missed him terribly after being apart for half a month and couldn’t resist giving him another quick kiss.

Ruan Silian inserted the candles into the cake, and after Shen Ping’an lit them, he announced,

“Alright, it’s ready.”

Wu Heng made a wish and leaned forward to blow out the candles.

The room immediately erupted into cheers.

Afterward, he accepted all kinds of gifts from everyone.

Lin Mengzhi sat on the armrest of the sofa, eating the unused basket of strawberries.

“This cake is barely passable as a cake,” he said. “We know you don’t really like sweets, but at least birthdays should look like birthdays, right? Xie Chongyi even suggested dragging in two death row prisoners and tying them together to make you a cake—blood everywhere, totally inauspicious. We talked him out of it…”

“The capital’s in heavy snow right now,” Xue Qi added. “Xie Chongyi, your mother asked me to bring you a message. She says she’s doing well.”

“That’s Ruan Silian’s son, right? He’s grown that big already?”

Lin Mengzhi used an older generation’s tone, teasing the shy boy sitting in the corner.

The boy resembled Ruan Silian, but was more introverted. He kept his head down and smiled softly.

“Old Fork’s gotten fat again.”

Parrots lived long lives. X showed no signs of aging; instead, its feathers had become fuller and more imposing, and it had learned even more human speech.

“I f*ck your—&……%￥”

The room burst into laughter.

Lin Mengzhi, chased around by the parrot, finally gasped for breath. Planting his hands on his hips, he pushed open the door. A cool, refreshing breeze drifted in from outside.

He lifted his chin and looked up at the starless sky.

“Watch this—I’ll put on a firework show for you guys!”

The moment he finished speaking, flames rippled out from beneath his feet like a red tide, spreading across the grass. They surged upward, the sky turning a blazing red before the light scattered and coalesced into rolling crimson clouds. One after another, they burst open in dazzling, crackling brilliance.

Wu Heng sat on the doorstep, a piece of cake still in his hand.

The starlight in his eyes seemed even brighter than before.

Xie Chongyi sat down beside him.

Around Wu Heng, friends gradually appeared on all sides—front, back, left, and right.

The more lively ones ran off with Lin Mengzhi, using their abilities to launch fireworks into the sky. Most of the others simply gathered near the doorway, watching the sky with quiet interest.

Shen Ping’an, who had been sitting beside Wu Heng, quietly made space for someone who had just arrived.

Xie Chongyi sat down next to Wu Heng.

His movements were subtle, almost concealed, as he reached out and held Wu Heng’s wrist. He shaped the words with his lips:

Miss you. Miss you.

Wu Heng’s fingers lightly traced over Xie Chongyi’s wrist.

At first, he thought love was a dull and uninteresting thing.

Later, he believed love was something that would change with time, or fade away until it disappeared entirely.

But now, at this very moment, his love for Xie Chongyi only grew more intense.

Because of Xie Chongyi, he came to love not only the people around him, but the entire world itself.

Wu Heng wiped the cream from the corner of his mouth with his finger.

He leaned closer to Xie Chongyi and silently kissed him.

Silently, he said: I love you.

In the distance, Lin Mengzhi and Dou Lu were competing. The two of them conjured up two terrifying mushroom-cloud explosions—both already grown adults, yet still behaving like this…

Under the brilliant fireworks that burst open like sudden heartbeats in the sky, Xie Chongyi pulled Wu Heng back.

He bit lightly onto Wu Heng’s soft lower lip.

“We’ll love each other until death,” he said.

Louder cheers erupted, mixed with the sound of explosions.

A new golden age for humanity—their age—had begun.

(The End.)

<< _ >>

The post Eaten Ch.237 first appeared on A Wandering Potato.

That day, the couple Wu Shiming and Zeng Like did not leave the school immediately. Instead, they turned to the teachers’ office and asked around before finally finding out who Wu Heng’s homeroom teacher was, which office he was in, and what he looked like.

The homeroom teacher poured hot tea for the two people he had never met before. When he heard that they wanted to transfer Wu Heng to another school, he sat down in shock. “At a time like this? A transfer?”

There was less than a month left until the college entrance exam. Regardless of whether his grades were good or bad, what was the point of transferring now?

But the two of them insisted.

The homeroom teacher had no choice but to say nothing.

“Have you asked the child what he wants?” the teacher could only say. He was certain Wu Heng would not agree to their request, nor would he submit obediently—because Wu Heng had already been led astray by that little brat, Xie Chongyi.

Zeng Like smiled very politely. “Something as big as a transfer—what use is a child’s opinion? A few drinking buddies are enough to make him reluctant to leave?”

The teacher’s expression grew serious as he shook his head. “That’s not how it should be said.”

“You mean…”

“I can’t allow Wu Heng to transfer at this time. The college entrance exam is almost here. Whatever urgent matters there are, they should wait until after the exams.” After a pause, he continued, “That said, honoring one’s parents comes first among all virtues. If there’s going to be a funeral at home, as his teacher I will of course help persuade Wu Heng.”

Zeng Like’s mouth slowly fell open. What kind of thing was that to say?

Half an hour later, they found the principal and complained that Wu Heng’s homeroom teacher had cursed their family to have a death.

Another half hour later, Wu Heng’s classmates all saw their homeroom teacher solemnly bowing at a ninety-degree angle to that couple.

There was nothing that could be done. That was how the world was.

However, judging from the malicious look on Wu Shiming and Zeng Like as they left, their wish had likely not been fulfilled. In any case, the students could at least take the exams smoothly.

This was also when Wu Heng finally came to understand what their homeroom teacher had always been saying:

“We are one body. No matter where we go, we must help one another. That is what friendship among classmates is. I love you all. I should love you all, so there is no friendship between us. I have a duty to love you. I was born to love you all. Don’t include me in your moral obligations.”

As the fog cleared and dispersed, Wu Heng saw a vast, lush forest—and he himself was just one of the trees within it.

Because of this, many students in the class started talking about celebrating.

They had always seen posts online about “escaping one’s family of origin,” but this was the first time they had encountered someone in real life whose parents truly seemed intent on destroying their child’s future—and they had actually helped make the escape happen. Of course it was worth celebrating properly.

“But Wu Heng, if you’ve fallen out with your family now, where are you going to live?” a girl named Dou Lu asked, tapping her head with her pen, unable to figure it out.

Wu Heng wasn’t good at socializing, so Xie Chongyi stepped in. “He’s staying at my place right now.”

“Wow, class monitor is so responsible! If I argue with my parents in the future, can I also go to your house?”

“No.”

Someone else said, “Idiot! If you go bothering the class monitor over everything, are you turning his home into a shelter for stray people?”

The always-silent Xue Shen spoke up then. “I don’t want to dampen the mood, but I still suggest we put the gathering on hold and wait until after the exams.”

Everyone agreed with that suggestion.

As the small class meeting was about to end, Wu Heng said softly, “I’ll treat everyone then.”

Xie Chongyi was standing not too far away from him, glanced over, and said in a tone that was neither warm nor cold:

“Don’t. They’ll eat your wallet clean. Just buy some drinks. I remember there’s still a lot of class funds left—either we use that, or we split it and share the cost later.”

The others didn’t detect any sense of favoritism. Instead, they all thought the class monitor was being thorough and considerate. As expected of the class monitor—this job really wasn’t something just anyone could handle.

—

In the evening after school, Xie Chongyi and Wu Heng went to buy ice cream outside the school gate.

“I’ll treat you,” Wu Heng said.

Xie Chongyi picked the cheapest popsicle.

Wu Heng glanced at him quietly and said, “Mom likes fish tails, right?”

Xie Chongyi laughed and lightly patted the back of his head. “You’re overthinking it. Everything I eat tastes the same to me anyway—just sweet.”

But Wu Heng could still taste the differences, so he picked a red bean ice cream instead.

On the way home, they kept buying snacks and drinks, because there was almost nothing at home. Occasionally, if they saw a small toy they liked, they would think of the parrot at home and buy it to bring back for it.

That day, unusually, Xie Chongyi stopped in front of a pharmacy.

He bit into his popsicle, narrowed his eyes, and held Wu Heng’s cool, soft fingers in his other hand, his expression unreadable.

Wu Heng, completely unaware, thought they were just waiting for the traffic light.

But when the light turned green, the person holding his hand still didn’t move. Only then did he turn back and look at Xie Chongyi in confusion.

Xie Chongyi let go of his hand. “Wait for me.”

He quickly came out of the pharmacy.

Under the tree, the two of them stood there. One of them opened both sides of a paper medicine bag, exposing the items inside to the other boy’s eyes. The orange-red glow of the sunset suddenly spilled across Wu Heng’s face. He was still biting his red bean ice cream, which melted faster and faster in his mouth.

“If you agree, we’ll do it; if not, never mind,” Xie Chongyi said.

Wu Heng asked, looking confused, “I thought you didn’t want to?”

“?”

For the rest of the ride, they said nothing, their hands clasped tightly together like two veins twisted tightly around each other, oozing a liquid that was either blood or sweat.

The elevator moved much, much slower than usual. Xie Chongyi leaned against the wall of the cabin, tilted his head back to look at the light above, and exhaled softly.

Halfway up, he turned his head to look at Wu Heng. Wu Heng stood perfectly straight, the popsicle stick still being chewed over and over in his mouth, the sound of wood shavings crunching.

Xie Chongyi took the wooden stick out of his mouth.

“Ding”

The elevator doors opened just then. Xie Chongyi pulled Wu Heng out, casually tossing the chewed-up stick aside. As he walked toward the entrance, he turned his head and kissed Wu Heng. Both of them stumbled slightly; Wu Heng was pressed against the door. After the sound of the fingerprint lock unlocking, his body was pushed inside.

They often acted like this at home. Boys at this age always had boundless energy, but their previous actions had been aimless—driven solely by the desire to get closer, even closer. So once that need was satisfied, they would naturally stop.

But today, they knew exactly what they were doing and where they were headed.

Wu Heng had washed up and was lying face-down on the bed.

Xie Chongyi stood behind him and unscrewed a small bottle of something oily and slippery.

“I told her it was for my boyfriend, and she said we should use this to avoid you getting hurt.”

But even with it, it still hurt.

Xie Chongyi looked at the tears glistening in Wu Heng’s eyes and almost couldn’t bear to continue.

But he still pressed down on Wu Heng’s slender back, preventing him from crawling away, and thrust all the way in.

The boy’s cries were somewhere between a moan and a whimper, yet they didn’t betray his nature; his voice was low and pitiful.

Xie Chongyi kissed his sweat-drenched back, waiting for him to adjust and accept it. He called him “baby,” told him not to cry, until his heart was softened and shattered by his tears.

Wu Heng couldn’t remember how he’d managed to sleep through that night—or perhaps he’d simply passed out. During it all, he felt as though he’d been tossed into an alchemical furnace like a monkey; the pain was unbearable, yet he’d gained something from it.

Xie Chongyi had never spoken to him so gently and soothingly before, but his actions and tone were moving in completely opposite directions. Having gotten a taste for it, he had no intention of stopping.

The next day, Wu Heng didn’t go to class because he had a low-grade fever.

This broke Xie Chongyi’s heart and filled him with guilt, even though he had actually been very careful.

Xie Chongyi called in sick for Wu Heng, but after making sure Wu Heng was settled, he went to school himself. Although he didn’t need to study, Wu Heng still did.

“If there’s anything you want to eat, give me a call. I’ll bring it to you after school,” Xie Chongyi said as he left.

Wu Heng curled up under the covers, her cheeks slightly flushed, but her lips pale, making her dark eyes stand out even more. “Bye.”

The parrot mimicked Wu Heng’s voice, saying “bye” in a sweet, high-pitched tone, earning a roll of the eyes from Xie Chongyi.

He dozed off for a while, then another, then another—his sleep was fitful. The medicine he’d taken that morning had made him break out in a sweat, so he got up to take a shower. His fever had clearly gone down, but after the shower, it spiked again.

But he couldn’t fall back asleep. He took two books from Xie Chongyi’s bookshelf, read them while leaning against the headboard, then got up to grab some snacks from the cabinet and eat them. Finally, he lay on the sofa watching TV.

His life had always been like this. It was the quiet life he’d once longed for—one where no one would suddenly punch him—but now he found it a bit boring.

He fell asleep again, or perhaps he didn’t. In any case, if Xie Chongyi came back, he’d know.

—

Teachers were very understanding about Wu Heng’s leave of absence. They believed he must have been deeply hurt by his parents’ harshness, which was why he needed a day to rest.

The teachers also sent him quite a lot of study materials, while classmates brought him food, hoping he would recover quickly and not be affected in his condition before the exams.

Xie Chongyi accepted all of it without the slightest hint of guilt.

“He’ll get better soon. Thank you all for your concern.”

After school, Xie Chongyi first went to the shopping mall, then to a restaurant, and only returned home at nightfall, carrying several large bags.

The entryway was completely dark. He paused for a moment before putting the bags down. After closing the door, he turned and found the person he was looking for in the living room—Wu Heng was curled up on the sofa watching TV. The flickering light from the screen fell across his face. Because he was ill, his complexion was poor, making him look almost ghostly.

“You’re back late,” Wu Heng said. “Did the teacher keep class overtime?”

Xie Chongyi walked over and pressed his forehead against his. “I bought you some clothes.”

“I already have clothes,” Wu Heng said, tilting his head back slightly.

“But a lot of them don’t fit you anymore.” Xie Chongyi placed a hand on his stomach, his expression shifting slightly. “How many snacks did you eat?”

When Wu Heng didn’t answer, he ruffled his hair into a mess.

“I put the phone numbers of a few food delivery places by your bed before I left. Just call them and they’ll deliver meals. I already paid.”

“I didn’t notice.”

That made it impossible for Xie Chongyi to scold him. To be honest, no matter what Wu Heng did wrong, he could never find a reason to blame him—because there was always a reason strong enough to forgive him.

“Come eat first. I brought food.”

What Xie Chongyi brought were mostly light, mild dishes. Wu Heng liked them very much and ate heartily, finishing about two-thirds.

That night, the two of them did nothing and fell asleep in each other’s arms.

The bite marks and kiss marks on Wu Heng’s body took at least a week to fade, and he didn’t go to school for that entire week. Every day after school, Xie Chongyi would come back and “feed” him the things he had learned at school.

At the monthly exam half a month later, Wu Heng finally appeared at school. Teachers and classmates all said he seemed to have gained a little weight. A bit more flesh looked better on him—before, his face had always been deathly pale, but now there was finally some color to it.

In this exam, Wu Heng suddenly surged into the top ten of the grade, which truly made everyone except Xie Chongyi take a sharp breath.

So it turned out it had really been his family holding him back—his foundation was genuinely strong.

Praise continued nonstop, while Xie Chongyi still sat far away from Wu Heng as usual, though every so often a faint, proud smile would appear on his face.

—

On the day of the exam, it was Xie Chongyi who sent Wu Heng to the exam center. He wasn’t wearing a school uniform, but still looked like a student. Some parents even asked why he wasn’t going in—whether he had been expelled or something. Xie Chongyi replied that he already had a guaranteed admission, earning himself a disgruntled “how annoying.”

Wu Heng had once treated the exam as extremely important, as if it were the only path he had, with cliffs on all sides.

Now, however, he had relaxed. One path, many paths—there were plenty of ways forward.

During the exam days, the city was under clear, blazing sunshine, and the temperature kept rising. But the students weren’t tired, and neither were the parents waiting outside.

After the exams ended, both students and parents collectively slept very well.

After a few days of rest, the students arranged a gathering time. That morning, the door to Xie Chongyi’s house was knocked on. The first group outside chattered nonstop. After a while, someone finally opened the door, and before the boy inside could even see who had arrived, several gusts of wind rushed past him.

“Holy crap, class monitor, your house is huge—it could fit a football field!”

“I need to pee, where’s the bathroom?”

“I can’t believe it, I love this TV. This must cost tens of thousands!”

The noise from them made Xie Chongyi’s eardrums ache. And not everyone who said they were coming had arrived yet.

The one looking for the bathroom ended up finding their bedroom instead. “Hey, isn’t this Wu Heng? He’s still asleep? It’s almost noon…”

They looked around the house as if they were touring a place, and in the end realized there was only one bedroom that was actually being used.

“You two are already this grown up, but still sharing a room. Is that even convenient?”

Xie Chongyi didn’t answer. Wu Heng was asleep and wouldn’t respond either. The person who asked didn’t think much of it anyway—the focus today was eating, drinking, and having fun.

Boxes of food and drinks were carried upstairs. Everyone had their roles: some picked vegetables, some chopped, some washed fruit. Those who had nothing to do either squeezed in front of the TV so they wouldn’t get in the way, or stood around the workers and chimed in like commentators.

In an instant, the house was bustling, lively—but not cramped.

Lin Mengzhi also came today, and he was in charge of cooking. Clever and socially skilled from years of experience in the outside world, he knew exactly how to talk to people. He made the girls laugh nonstop, and the boys quickly called him “bro.” At a glance, no one would even notice he didn’t really belong to their group.

Xue Shen arrived last. Xue Qi followed behind him carrying a box of alcohol. He reminded Xue Qi to change into slippers, then leaned back on the sofa and mocked Xie Chongyi, who was casually cracking sunflower seeds.

“Been friends for years and I still never got to come over and have a drink. Looks like I finally got lucky today.”

He scanned the room but didn’t see Wu Heng. “Did you kidnap and imprison him?” he asked.

Xie Chongyi didn’t even bother responding.

At this moment, Wu Heng was lying in a fully air-conditioned room. He was covered with a blanket and having a long dream.

He dreamed of the apocalypse arriving—strange and terrifying creatures appearing around him, countless people dying. The whole world seemed infected by a virus: mutation, decay, madness. He and a group of others set out on a journey to survive. Together they wandered, together they reached a new place—a peaceful haven where people could finally live without hunger.

In the dream, the class monitor had always been by his side.

And the versions of himself and the class monitor that appeared in the dream were exactly the same as the two young men who had once appeared in his home months earlier.

His long-haired self. His green-eyed self. And that parrot—the one that could grow very large—was the same one outside.

The curtains stirred. Someone approached the bed and pulled them open slightly. Midday light poured in. Wu Heng woke up, his half-open eyes only able to see the silhouette of the person coming closer.

“Lunch is ready. Get up and eat,” the boy’s voice was unusually gentle.

Wu Heng wasn’t unwilling to get up—he just hadn’t fully come back to himself yet, his gaze still a little blank.

The other person slid an arm beneath his back.

“Baby, eat first, then go back to sleep, okay?”

The boy was helped up. His chin rested on the other’s shoulder. Through the gap between the curtains, he saw the bright daylight outside, like falling snow.

(IF Route End)

<< _ >>

The post Eaten Ch.236 first appeared on A Wandering Potato.

Wu Heng knew that this way of thinking was wrong. He could love the class monitor, and the class monitor could love him too, but he couldn’t possess him alone.

They were just friends. Friendship was the kind of relationship that demanded the most emotional restraint from both sides in the world. Family and lovers could confidently say, “You’re not allowed to leave me for the rest of your life,” but friends couldn’t. Any demand between friends could only be brushed off with, “At the end of the day, you’re just friends.”

That wasn’t fair. His love for Xie Chongyi was no less than anyone else’s.

Although he had never managed to give the class monitor anything in return, the other person was the one thing he had desperately wanted to possess in his dim, unremarkable life over all these years.

Wu Heng felt that he could exchange everything he currently had for him—even if it meant continuing to live under Wu Shiming’s feet like a dying dog.

But if he were to be honest, Xie Chongyi hadn’t actually done all that much for him either. At least not enough to be worth Wu Heng trading everything he had. Most things that people desperately wanted were worth less than their own existence—but he still wanted it. Wanted it. A craving like a moth throwing itself into a flame.

He was poor. He was barren. He had never seen much of the world, and he wanted to grasp everything in his hands.

But Wu Heng never told Xie Chongyi what he was thinking. He knew it would scare him.

Unfortunately, this kind of thing couldn’t be hidden. And he wasn’t deep or skilled enough to pretend in front of Xie Chongyi and get away with it. Xie Chongyi knew snakes better than anyone—when it was emotionally unsettled: its appetite dropped, it became less active, and it grew irritable.

Xie Chongyi, however, was better at hiding things than Wu Heng. He was hiding something far more serious. At times he thought Wu Heng had noticed, and at times he thought he hadn’t. Eventually, he realized that wasn’t the issue at all—the real problem was that his current thoughts had already been completely pulled along by every single movement of Wu Heng.

The two of them usually didn’t eat at home. The kitchen stayed cold and unused; since Wu Heng moved in, the stove had never even been lit. They either ate at school or somewhere near their home.

One weekend, Xie Chongyi suddenly got the idea to cook a big meal at home.

The boy’s idea was good in theory, but after a chaotic attempt, they unanimously decided to order a hot pot base from a delivery app and simply cook all the ingredients in one pot.

The ingredients Xie Chongyi bought were all high quality. Even after being boiled, the flavors remained fresh and delicious. He even opened an expensive bottle of red wine, and the empty house finally felt a little warm and alive.

The weather had already started to warm up. It wasn’t quite hot enough to need air conditioning yet—but with the steam and alcohol filling the air, it didn’t feel that way anymore. Wu Heng’s skin, usually pale, was flushed into patches of soft pink, like peach skin, even prettier than blush.

Xie Chongyi’s dining table was too large. The two of them sat with what felt like a steaming sea between them. The loudest presence at the table, however, wasn’t either of them—it was the parrot.

The African grey parrot’s bowl was placed on the side, filled with its own food, but it wanted what was in the pot. Ignored by everyone, it kept making muttering, croaking complaints.

Wu Heng had something on his mind and didn’t eat much. He barely looked at Xie Chongyi, and tried not to think about him either, in case it truly brought disaster upon him. He understood himself—he wasn’t someone pure and spotless at heart.

He used to think the person across from him was some kind of saintly, immaculate figure, while constantly framing himself as the worse one.

But Xie Chongyi was no better than him—only more restrained in his badness. His gaze repeatedly stripped the boy across from him of his clothes and put them back on again, over and over dozens of times, tossing all the virtues he had learned—morality, intelligence, physical fitness, aesthetics, and labor—into the pot until they melted down, impossible to retrieve.

“You don’t handle alcohol well,” Xie Chongyi said, resting his chin in his hand as he watched Wu Heng’s slightly flushed face.

“I’ve never drunk before,” Wu Heng replied, head lowered. “Not even beer.”

“My fault,” Xie Chongyi said.

Wu Heng looked up at him, not understanding.

“I forgot to tell you, this bottle of red wine is actually quite high in alcohol content. It just doesn’t taste like it. I suggest you don’t drink any more.”

Wu Heng really did stop drinking. The taste itself wasn’t particularly good anyway, and the alcohol fumes made his stomach feel uneasy.

“Then I’ll go brush my teeth and sleep.”

Sleep already?

For the thousandth time, Xie Chongyi felt like Wu Heng had discovered something and was avoiding him.

The dishes and chopsticks were just left there; the maid could deal with them tomorrow. After sitting in his chair for a while, Xie Chongyi followed him to the bed.

The bedside lamp cast a faint glow. The distance between the two of them felt like an insurmountable chasm. Xie Chongyi found himself blaming Wu Heng in his mind—if he was going to move in, he should have said so earlier. He would have replaced this oversized, luxurious bed with a smaller one so they could squeeze together, pressed tightly, their organs practically merging—heart, liver, spleen, lungs, kidneys—everything mixed together, indistinguishable from one another.

Wu Heng’s breathing sounded heavier than usual. Because of the alcohol, it was hard to tell whether the boy was even asleep.

Xie Chongyi rolled over to face him, his gaze brighter and hotter than usual.

If Wu Heng, still awake, had the courage to turn and look back, he would have been startled half out of his wits. That gaze was predatory—like a beast in nature locking onto prey.

“Wu Heng,” Xie Chongyi called his name, not moving his body, keeping the distance between them.

“Mm.” Wu Heng answered quickly. He wasn’t asleep.

“…How does it feel living at my place?” Xie Chongyi wasn’t afraid. Wu Heng couldn’t run anyway, but he didn’t want to take too many detours.

Ideally, as soon as he said it, Wu Heng would just roll into his arms—everyone happy.

So he planned to take it slow, to simmer things properly, to avoid anything half-cooked on the outside but frozen in the center.

Wu Heng thought for a long while. “I like it here.”

Then, as if worried his answer was too vague and might make the host think he was being perfunctory, he added, “It feels more like my home here.”

But if Xie Chongyi weren’t in this house, then it wouldn’t be any different from any other place, Wu Heng thought. The “liveliness” of a home probably referred to exactly that.

That was a good sign.

Xie Chongyi shifted a little closer toward the boy.

“Are you happy playing with me?” Xie Chongyi asked in a lowered voice.

Only then did Wu Heng sense that something was odd—not that the question itself was strange, but that Xie Chongyi himself was strange.

Did the class monitor even care about this? Wasn’t he only concerned with whether he himself was happy?

Wu Heng rolled over. He still hadn’t noticed that the distance between him and Xie Chongyi had already narrowed—Xie Chongyi had been very careful about it.

“Yes,” Wu Heng answered honestly, seeing nothing unusual.

“But I feel like you haven’t been very happy lately. Did I do something wrong?”

Wu Heng tried to argue and almost bit his tongue. “No, you’re very good.”

Oh. So there were other secrets unrelated to him. That was even more irritating.

“Then why aren’t you happy?” Xie Chongyi asked in a sharp tone.

Wu Heng froze. In his memory, Xie Chongyi had never spoken to him in a sarcastic or biting tone before.

His heartbeat suddenly sped up. He felt a kind of humiliation—like his sincerity had been misplaced. How could the class monitor be harsh with him?

He had become abnormal precisely because of the other person, so how could that person turn around and question him like this?

Wu Heng felt cold inside, the warmth in his body slowly fading. “Class monitor, do you really care whether I’m happy or not?”

Xie Chongyi, however, asked back, “Do you think I should care?”

“…Whatever.”

Whatever?

Almost instantly, a surge of hostility rose in Xie Chongyi’s chest. Without thinking, he reached out and grabbed Wu Heng’s chin. No matter what their relationship was, he would not allow “whatever.”

Even if they were only friends, Xie Chongyi couldn’t accept being the kind of person who was optional or insignificant.

He would rather Wu Heng overthink him, resent him, even find him disgusting—so long as, when Wu Heng grew old and died, he would still remember that at sixteen or seventeen, there had once been a boy his age who had made him feel thoroughly disturbed.

Just thinking about being remembered in that way made Xie Chongyi smile faintly. Even the pressure on Wu Heng’s chin eased slightly.

Meanwhile, Wu Heng was left confused and dazed. Whatever—was that bad? Wasn’t that exactly what friendship was?

But Xie Chongyi was already considering whether he should just kiss him outright.

If he kissed Wu Heng, Wu Heng probably wouldn’t get angry anyway. Wu Heng didn’t have that much temper.

But Xie Chongyi himself didn’t quite want that. He preferred that any kiss or embrace happen only after Wu Heng understood his intent.

That way, it would be easier for Wu Heng to remember.

“I like you,” Xie Chongyi said directly, releasing his grip on Wu Heng’s chin.

The words and the action loosened in opposite directions, like a balloon suddenly inflated and then quickly deflated—Wu Heng hadn’t even had time to react.

After a moment, a faint voice broke the silence in the room.

“Class monitor… if you say that, I might misunderstand.”

?

Xie Chongyi had worried for nothing. The other person simply couldn’t understand.

No matter what, Wu Heng showed no sign of disgust or rejection. He didn’t even pull away. Xie Chongyi understood very well that even among friends, “I like you” could make some people so repulsed they changed expression immediately.

His fingers, hidden beneath the blanket, quietly moved closer to the other boy. The fingertips brushed against warmth, but still hadn’t touched skin—they paused there, waiting, ready to strike.

Between them, Xie Chongyi’s words had ignited a small fire. It was neither fully burning nor extinguished, depending entirely on who would breathe on it next—whether to turn it into a roaring blaze, or snuff it out completely.

Xie Chongyi could only continue pressing forward, encroaching.

“You don’t need to misunderstand,” he said. “Yes, it really is liking. The kind of liking that means I want to be with you for a lifetime.”

That sounded far too innocent—so innocent that even Xie Chongyi felt a bit embarrassed.

What was really on his mind went far beyond the childish, make-believe nonsense he’d just spoken.

Wu Heng’s ears had caught only the words “together forever,” which happened to be exactly what he’d been hoping for.

Even if you were handing him a pillow when he was dozing off, it wouldn’t have been this quick or this perfect.

A few stars lit up in the young man’s eyes. “Really?” Listen closely, and you could hear the excitement in his rising tone.

But Xie Chongyi’s heart grew a little colder. “What are you so happy about?”

“Don’t you want to be with me forever?”

“Yes…” Xie Chongyi said through gritted teeth.

“Then let’s be together.”

Xie Chongyi didn’t understand him, nor did he intend to. Things that could be explained would eventually be understood; things that couldn’t be explained were hopeless even until death. In any case, Wu Heng had agreed to him—that much was certain, set in stone, and there was no escaping it.

The fingers the boy had been hiding under the covers for ages clamped down like iron pincers, seizing Wu Heng’s fingers resting on his stomach with lightning speed and precision. The captured fingers were soft and warm; they didn’t struggle, yet he nearly lost his grip. To hide his lack of composure, he lunged forward, pinning Wu Heng beneath him, covering him with his body.

Wu Heng looked at Xie Chongyi with innocent eyes, as if extending an invitation.

Xie Chongyi accepted the invitation.

Xie Chongyi bit down on Wu Heng’s mouth. It was so soft—so soft that he couldn’t help but hold it in his mouth and suck endlessly. He didn’t spare either of Wu Heng’s lips; he let the two peach-blossom-like lips swell into two little peaches in his mouth. He bit down hard, not wanting to hurt Wu Heng, he believed he should hold Wu Heng in the palm of his hand.

Months ago, on the train, that was exactly what he’d thought. But now that he actually held him there, all he wanted was to stuff him into his mouth, bite him to pieces, and swallow him whole. And he deserved to do just that—what place in the world could be safer than inside his own body? After convincing himself of this, Xie Chongyi’s kisses moved to Wu Heng’s neck.

When Wu Heng whimpered, Xie Chongyi said, “That sounds good. Do it louder.”

If Wu Heng didn’t realize by now just how far his relationship with the class monitor had gone, he’d have to be a complete fool. But not only did he feel no aversion, his fingers even instinctively intertwined with Xie Chongyi’s.

He thought he needed Xie Chongyi more, but when the kiss landed, Wu Heng sensed in their embrace that Xie Chongyi needed him just as much as he needed Xie Chongyi.

Xie Chongyi kissed him too fiercely, too deeply.

Their tongues collided in a chaotic tangle, and it felt as though countless electric currents were surging through both of them.

Wu Heng’s mind went blank. When he came to his senses, the boy was lying on his stomach like a young leopard, biting the soft flesh of his abdomen.

The sparks between them leapt into Wu Heng’s belly, burning ever brighter.

Wu Heng curled his legs as if unable to bear it, thrusting his knee upward. He didn’t know what he’d struck, but Xie Chongyi suddenly bit him hard, and both of them let out muffled groans.

They lay in each other’s arms, drenched in sweat, having kissed every inch of each other—and yet, ten minutes felt more than enough.

Sweaty and clinging to each other, they fell asleep, like two otters swimming and resting in the water. They had both left their original packs; they were a pack of their own. Whoever found food would drag it back for the other to feast on together. Once full, they would lazily sprawl on a rock to bask in the sun. They bathed each other, groomed each other’s fur, and tickled each other with their teeth. They depended on each other for survival in the wild.

—

They overslept, but the teacher didn’t hold it against them.

After oversleeping for a whole week straight, the two were finally summoned to the office.

“Wu Heng, you’re a good kid. You’re usually the one who gives me the least trouble. The college entrance exams are coming up soon—you need to focus. There will be plenty of good days ahead!” He spoke with conviction, his eyes darting repeatedly toward Xie Chongyi.

Xie Chongyi had already secured a direct university admission and was the class monitor, yet you couldn’t really call him a “good student.” But you also couldn’t label him a troublemaker either.

If you insisted on describing him, he was a troublesome case—he did good things, but he also caused plenty of trouble. Most people tended to go to extremes; he went in both directions. Even the homeroom teacher couldn’t be bothered to lecture him anymore.

But the homeroom teacher did worry about Wu Heng. He knew Wu Heng’s family situation, and compared to students like Xie Chongyi, who had a stable background, Wu Heng had no fallback at all.

That concern turned into anger half a month later when the monthly exam rankings came out—Xie Chongyi had “led Wu Heng astray,” and now Wu Heng was also heading toward both extremes.

The homeroom teacher slammed his desk repeatedly.

“A student should behave like a student!” he shouted.

He wanted to say, I should call your parents and have them deal with you properly, but then he remembered that neither of their families were the type to show up. The words died in his throat. Frustrated with his own softness, he stomped his feet and told them to get out—“Get out! Both of you!”

A teacher this decent would also not call the parents of his students right when they were in their best and most motivated state.

So instead, Wu Shiming and Zeng Like came uninvited.

It was during geography class. The teacher, Ying Liuquan, had handed out a stack of practice questions for them to review. He himself was leaning on the podium preparing the next set of exercises when a well-dressed couple knocked on the classroom door.

Amid the buzzing of cicadas, they raised their voices:

“We’re looking for Wu Heng.”

Most of the students in the room had the same thought at that moment:

His father is really handsome. His mother is really beautiful.

Having substituted for three years, Ying Liuquan wasn’t as familiar with every student’s family situation as the homeroom teacher, but he did know about some of the more unusual cases—and Wu Heng was one of them.

He immediately sensed this would not be good.

So he said, “Parents, we’re in class right now. If there’s anything, please wait until after class.”

Teacher Ying really was “made of water,” as everyone at the school commonly said—but not as praise. It was a mocking way of saying he was soft and weak.

Under normal circumstances, he should have gone to pour these two a cup of hot tea. Instead, he firmly refused them.

Something was wrong.

Dozens of energetic faces in the classroom were full of confusion. Heads turned like spinning tops. Wu Heng’s family affairs—small as sesame seeds in a sieve—had somehow all been shaken out. No one knew who had started it.

Or perhaps they already knew; after all, they even knew which cousin was someone’s mistress and which uncle was involved in questionable jobs.

“Hey, what’s going on? Do you have to go home to beat him here?” someone shouted from the back of the classroom.

“Uncle, auntie, have you not hit your kid in a few days and your hands are itching again?”

“Wu Heng, don’t go! I looked it up—you can get student loans in university, and work part-time for living expenses. For a family like that, you should cut ties as soon as possible!”

The classroom was buzzing with voices, like a group of inexperienced but enthusiastic people carrying an injured person, applying every remedy they could think of—some offering ointment, others painkillers. Anything that might keep him alive seemed worth trying.

Wu Heng sighed and still walked out.

In front of outsiders, Wu Shiming and Zeng Like were always impeccably respectable people, so Wu Heng wasn’t worried they would lay a hand on him at that moment.

“You’ve been gone for the past two months. Don’t you know your parents would worry?” Zeng Like said as soon as she saw him, finally letting out a breath of relief. “Your little sister misses you too.”

Wu Heng’s tone was cold. “Is that so?”

Wu Shiming adjusted his glasses. “Come home with us first.” He reached out his hand toward Wu Heng.

Wu Heng, very experienced, shifted his left shoulder away. It was the only tacit understanding between father and son—Wu Heng knew exactly where Wu Shiming would strike first.

“I’ve already arranged a transfer to a different school with your mother. This school has bad discipline—you’ve picked up bad habits here. Look at your classmates, the way they speak, what they say, you—”

“I’m not transferring.”

“Do you think you get to decide that?” Wu Shiming felt that Wu Heng had become disobedient. The scar on his head, stitched with seven or eight stitches, began to throb faintly again.

“I’m already an adult.”

“Then you don’t care about your little sister anymore? She loves you so much!” Zeng Like clutched her bag tightly, eyes reddening.

Wu Heng’s eyelids drooped slightly as he looked at her. “She’s not my child. Not my responsibility.”

Of the two adults, the most skilled at putting on an act wasn’t Wu Shiming—this time, the one who snapped first was him.

He raised his hand, swinging it down halfway—

At that moment, a hand reached out from behind the boy.

Xie Chongyi did not block it. Instead, he struck back.

A sharp crack echoed out, so loud it startled the cicadas in the tree by the balcony into flight.

Seated right beside the balcony, Xue Shen’s pen slipped from his fingers—his understanding of “Old Xie” had still been far too limited.

The boy smiled politely, his eyes and cheeks full of a courteous, almost gentle smile. He didn’t step forward. Even after making his move, he remained standing behind Wu Heng, in an unmistakable protective posture.

“Hello, uncle and aunt,” he said.

Wu Shiming immediately recognized him—the same boy who, months ago, had broken his hand.

But the person in front of him now was clearly still a high school student. Not only did the age not match, even the sharp, unrestrained youthfulness he now saw was completely different from the person he remembered.

It couldn’t possibly be the same individual.

And yet, that similar face alone was enough to make Wu Shiming feel disgust. Not to mention he had just been struck again—half his face was already swollen, overlapping with the injuries Wu Heng had previously caused, ringing in his head like a double echo.

“Take care of yourself,” Wu Shiming spat out, throwing down the words before leaving in fury.

Zeng Like didn’t leave in such a hurry. She hadn’t been hit yet.

She stood where she was, suspiciously examining the two of them—though it was more like she was examining them as if they were a single entity. After a long moment, her throat convulsed as if she had swallowed a fly.

“If you refuse to acknowledge us, that’s even better. At least you won’t bring home a body full of filth and infect the family with it.”

Unable to tolerate any longer, she turned and ran off in haste.

Yet Wu Heng only felt the afternoon sun warming his entire body.

There was only a faint stinging in his eyes. Whether it was healthy flesh or rotten flesh, cutting it away would always hurt a little—but only by removing the rotten parts could he get better. He understood that very clearly.

Xie Chongyi walked around in front of him and leaned casually against the balcony railing. Turning back, he gave Wu Heng a smile full of a classmate-like friendliness, showing none of the dark, dangerous edge he had displayed with Wu Heng in bed late at night.

“Wu Heng, congratulations,” he said, very much like a class monitor would. “Your future looks promising.”

<< >>

The post Eaten Ch.235 first appeared on A Wandering Potato.

In a place with no one around, in unfamiliar territory, the deeper the night grew, the more frequently Wu Heng broke out in goosebumps. Night itself awakened humanity’s most primitive fear of darkness. From time to time, he let out a suppressed sneeze. When the security guard suddenly raised his phone and pointed it toward him, his scalp went numb—like prey suddenly realizing it had fallen into a vast net.

But the security guard’s attention wasn’t actually on him. After a brief moment of confusion, his expression turned into one of ecstatic delight, like a hunter who had just seen a half-dead spotted deer caught in a trap after a winter of starvation. Excited, he immediately relayed the news to his companions.

Wu Heng already had nowhere to go. In truth, he was no different from a deer trapped in a snare.

The guard hung up the phone, humming as he returned to the booth. His “companions” soon arrived, armed with long guns and blades, ready to collect their prize.

Wu Heng stood up and watched as the approaching figure drew nearer—tall, long-limbed, walking with large, fast strides. It wasn’t the security guard’s companion. It was his own.

Before the person even reached him, the corner of his vision caught sight of the luggage bags piled beside him. Though they weren’t trash, they were inseparable from him—like a tumor or a node cut from some part of his body. They were burdens tied to him. Together, they searched for their next host, still uncertain whether that host would accept them in full.

The boy lowered his eyes. His slender frame seemed to carry an immeasurable weight of psychological filth, all of it spilling out—enough to plunge the world into endless night.

And yet he looked light. At least, that was how it seemed in Xie Chongyi’s eyes—so light that he felt as if he might vanish the next second.

“What’s going on?” If he hadn’t seen the bags, Xie Chongyi probably wouldn’t have asked that.

Wu Heng looked down at the tips of his shoes. “I ran away from home.”

Xie Chongyi’s thoughts jumped quickly. “Because of me?”

In a way, that didn’t seem wrong either, Wu Heng thought, and nodded. “Mm.”

Xie Chongyi felt a sense of happiness.

The parrot was perched on a cabinet in the entryway outside the door. Xie Chongyi hadn’t told it that Wu Heng was coming, but it seemed to have known in advance anyway. The moment Xie Chongyi closed the door, it darted out.

When the elevator doors opened, it spread its wings and shouted, “Wu Heng!”

Wu Heng looked at it silently for a few seconds, then stepped out carrying the two snake-skin bags. Xie Chongyi flipped down the elevator door’s safety barrier. “Just unpack a little. You still have class tomorrow. We’ll deal with the rest after school.”

Xie Chongyi’s house was very large, but barely furnished. Several sofa pieces, like blocks of tofu, were arranged into a long couch. On a marble coffee table in the center sat a few cans of soda water, while the remaining space was filled entirely with books.

At first, Wu Heng thought they were study materials. As he passed by, he glanced at one cover:

“Eighty-Eight Daoist Techniques”

No matter how serious or cold a house looked, once books like that appeared, it immediately gained a strange, indescribable air.

Amid the rustling sounds of luggage being dragged, Wu Heng looked around. In the dim light spilling from the entryway, he said quietly, “Class Monitor, does your house not have lights?”

After a brief silence, the boy replied, “I forgot.”

Only after speaking did he turn all the lights on.

Both of them blinked at the sudden brightness, then opened their eyes again at the same time. Xie Chongyi had already pushed open the bedroom door. His voice came from inside:

“The master bedroom is where my parents stay, but they’re rarely home. Besides that, there’s only one second bedroom, so you’ll have to share a room with me.”

He said it in a tone that didn’t sound particularly disappointed.

Wu Heng had never shared a bed with anyone before. He pointed at the sofa. “I can sleep there.”

Xie Chongyi walked back out and spread his hands. “If you don’t mind being dragged around the living room by them, then go ahead.”

Wu Heng bent down to look at the sofa legs—so slippery…

“Then I’ll sleep in the same bed as you.” He straightened up and made his decision. Since he had already disturbed his friend, he might as well commit to the inconvenience fully.

Wu Heng’s luggage was gradually carried in piece by piece. There wasn’t much storage space in the house, so most of it had to be temporarily placed in the unused master bedroom wardrobe.

During the process, Xie Chongyi kept asking, “What’s this? What’s this? And this? What about this?”

Two-thirds of it turned out to be things Lin Mengzhi had “sourced” from Wu Shiming and the others. Even expensive skincare products belonging to Zeng Like, and Wu Shiming’s imported replacement razor, had ended up in Wu Heng’s bags.

They only took out the essential items needed for the next few months.

Xie Chongyi gradually realized that Wu Heng had very few personal belongings. For washing his face, he only had a bar of lavender-scented soap. For bathing, the same lavender soap. For shampoo, also a lavender shampoo bar—almost like the entire “lavender family” had come along with him.

His toothbrush was an inexpensive, commonly seen brand like Cold Sour Spirit, but his electric toothbrush cost several hundred yuan. It was obvious he took very good care of his teeth, because aside from the necessary toothbrush and toothpaste, he also had quite a few specialized oral-care tools.

Everything else was less meticulous, fitting the needs of an ordinary high school boy.

Wu Heng stubbornly insisted on organizing everything himself so he could learn where things were.

So Xie Chongyi followed behind him the entire time, telling him where to place things in the bathroom. When Wu Heng stood, he watched the nape of his neck and his ears; when he squatted, he looked at the fluffy swirl of hair on his crown.

Maybe it was just his imagination, but Xie Chongyi felt that everything about Wu Heng was a little bit cute—not just his appearance, but even his personality.

But probably only he would think that. Realizing this made him even happier.

“The blanket was just changed yesterday. You can go straight to bed.”

The two of them lay down on the bed.

That night, Wu Heng thought Xie Chongyi would ask why he had run away from home—ask other questions he wouldn’t know how to answer—but Xie Chongyi asked nothing at all.

Wu Heng said nothing either. The silence of a friend did not make him panic and pour everything out.

They fell asleep at the same time and woke up at the same time.

But Xie Chongyi got up a little later. While Wu Heng was brushing his teeth, the parrot was perched on the toilet next to him, its head raised and eyes constantly darting around.

Wu Heng didn’t really feel anything toward pets, so he didn’t pay it any attention.

“Eat breakfast!” the parrot shouted loudly when it got no response from the human.

Wu Heng wasn’t sure why he did it, but he replied, “I don’t know where your food is. Go find Xie Chongyi.” Even though the parrot probably couldn’t understand him.

But this parrot was different—it actually understood. It hopped down from the toilet, and Wu Heng glanced outside to see it rush into the half-closed bedroom door, immediately jumping onto the raised blanket. After a chaotic flurry of commotion, Xie Chongyi sat up from the bed in annoyance.

After a very “peaceful and harmonious” half hour, the two of them left home together, leaving the parrot behind to guard the house.

After getting off the bus during the morning rush hour, they immediately ran into Xue Shen getting out of his family’s chauffeur-driven car. This was the first time Wu Heng had met Xue Shen before entering school. So his family had a driver?

As if sensing Wu Heng’s confusion, Xie Chongyi grabbed his arm from the side, pulling him closer, and lowered his voice: “He’s just pretending.”

Xue Shen also saw the two of them, but he didn’t know they were living together and only assumed it was a coincidence—though in reality, he believed Xie Chongyi had engineered this “chance encounter.”

The three of them walked into school together. At the fork in the road between the cafeteria and the teaching buildings, just before the small grove, Xue Shen waved his hand. “I’m not going to the cafeteria. I already had breakfast at home—black truffle seared salmon sandwich…”

The class rep’s breakfast probably also came with coffee or some kind of juice, but Xie Chongyi didn’t give him a chance to finish speaking—he put an arm around Wu Heng and led him straight into the small grove.

Wu Heng glanced back at the class rep. The other boy’s looks were actually not as outstanding as the class monitor’s; he even wore an unnecessary pair of black-framed glasses. He gave off a very “hot nerd” vibe, but he was indeed the type who was not as honest as he seemed.

Because they were now living together, even though their seats were far apart, the two of them moving in and out of different parts of the school naturally became like two ants that responded to each other’s movements, sticking together.

At noon on the first day, Wu Heng got up as soon as the bell rang, as usual, and walked out. Just as he reached the hallway, a voice from behind called, “Wait for me.” Then he ended up having lunch with Xie Chongyi.

After school in the afternoon, he also picked up his bag and left—but somehow, Xie Chongyi was already standing outside the hallway waiting for him.

The next day at school didn’t need to be mentioned at all.

Even when going to the restroom at school, Xie Chongyi insisted on accompanying him. Although Wu Heng didn’t understand why, he still unzipped and went in.

Wu Heng was used to being alone. Solitude made him more at ease.

He didn’t really care about anyone in particular. He only cared whether there was meat on his own plate, not whether others wanted scallions or cilantro. His indifference toward others was partly just personality.

More importantly, being alone gave him a greater sense of security.

Those who came close to him either invaded his territory, his mind, or his body—and Xie Chongyi invaded all three.

But after staying at Xie Chongyi’s house for more than half a month, Wu Heng began to grow a little unaccustomed to being alone. The cold swamp inside his body had turned into a shimmering white lake and a blue ocean—warm in spring, passionate in summer, brilliant in autumn, and in winter, it had become the quiet he had once longed for but could never quite reach.

But Xie Chongyi was not a real still object that could remain by Wu Heng’s side for his entire life.

They would go to university, possibly pursue further studies, and at that stage they might be separated by distance. Then they would begin working. After that, something even more terrifying would push them into completely different lives with no connection to each other at all—marriage.

If by then their relationship was still close, at most they would only receive a child’s polite “uncle” from each other’s kids. If they lost contact, then they would not even have the qualification to sit down and eat a meal together anymore.

Wu Heng felt that he could not accept their relationship becoming like that.

After realizing this, he spent the entire night unable to sleep. When he woke up, he became even more withdrawn than before, even less inclined to smile, no matter how Xie Chongyi tried to tease him.

Xie Chongyi couldn’t possibly fail to notice the change in Wu Heng. If he truly couldn’t sense it, then that would be negligence on the part of someone in love—he would lose not only the possibility of being together, but even the right to like him at all.

But Xie Chongyi assumed that the increasingly sensitive and suspicious Wu Heng had noticed the lengthening gaze he sometimes cast in his direction. He had once seen himself in the mirror and imagined that if the person being looked at like that was Xue Shen, that person would probably call the police the next second.

He hadn’t done anything yet. He hadn’t even touched him—he was only looking.

After silently thinking for a few days, Xie Chongyi decided he couldn’t continue like this. Before their friendship broke down, he would turn friendship into love. If he couldn’t turn it naturally, then he would force it.

<< _ >>

The post Eaten Ch.234 first appeared on A Wandering Potato.

For the first time, the warmth brought in from outside didn’t dissipate quickly inside the house—it lingered all the way until bedtime.

He was in Wu Zhi’s room helping her with arithmetic problems. Although Wu Zhi was a bit slow, she was still sensitive enough to notice his unusual mood.

“Big brother, are you in a good mood today?”

“So-so.” Wu Heng placed her homework on her lap—it was all wrong.

Wu Zhi was very well-behaved in front of Wu Heng. She didn’t press further and went back to doing the problems again.

Wu Heng finished his task and left her room. His steps paused slightly when he reached the living room. Wu Shiming was watching the news, while Zeng Like was browsing her digital magazine. After thinking for a moment, he sat down on the single sofa nearby.

Neither of them noticed him at first. It wasn’t until the water cup beside Wu Shiming was empty that he instinctively looked for Zeng Like’s help—but then he saw Wu Heng was also there.

“Wu Heng, go get me a glass of water.”

Wu Heng stood up and went to pour a glass of water for Wu Shiming.

Wu Shiming’s hand seemed to be recovering, but he still couldn’t lift heavy objects or make large movements, so he still had to rely on others for many things. He hadn’t forgotten how his hand had been broken, which was why he had never looked at Wu Heng kindly over this period of time. On top of that, Wu Heng was not a particularly likable child at the moment, so the distance between them had only grown.

But tonight, the atmosphere felt different—like it had entered a setting where a casual family talk had to happen. Wu Shiming adjusted his glasses.

“How are your exam results?”

Wu Heng nodded. “Okay. Better than last time.”

“Just maintain it. Don’t overwork yourself.” This time it was Zeng Like who spoke. “Putting too much pressure on yourself isn’t good either.”

Wu Heng’s fingers moved slightly on his knee. His voice was usually emotionless, and he knew it himself, so this time he deliberately softened it.

“Mom, I have something I want to tell you.”

Zeng Like looked up from her tablet. “What is it?”

“I… want to stay at a classmate’s house.”

Zeng Like then asked again, “This weekend? Is his house far from the school? Don’t let it affect your classes.”

“Not the weekend,” Wu Heng said, lowering his eyelids. “Until the college entrance exam, I want to live at his house.”

After saying that, his face began to burn uncontrollably. This feeling was different from before. In the past, it was always a boiling mix of resentment and hatred caused by the anticipation of slaps or fists. But now there was also a trace of embarrassment. The joy he felt from being invited resurfaced again, and each time it appeared it stirred something deep inside him. So much so that he almost forgot he had always been standing in a deep well.

Zeng Like’s eyes widened in shock. Wu Shiming had clearly been listening the whole time as well; he frowned.

“Why do you suddenly want to live at someone else’s house? Is something wrong with home?”

“For you two, it should be fine, right?” The words came out of Wu Heng’s mouth without any thought.

The moment he said it, he stood up abruptly, as if facing a great enemy.

“Wu Heng, what are you saying?” Zeng Like said in a reproachful tone.

At the same time, Wu Shiming took off his glasses and looked at him calmly. “Say that again.”

The heat on Wu Heng’s face faded. His complexion turned deathly pale. Something had taken root deep inside his body—without his own awareness, it had already grown into a towering tree. At certain moments, he didn’t even realize that he was now slightly taller than Wu Shiming.

He tried to open his mouth, as if he could shake that tree loose. But the moment he did, a black object flew straight at him. A tablet smashed into his forehead, and his vision went dark as his body tilted and nearly fell.

Before he could even get back up, objects from the coffee table were hurled at him, striking various parts of his body. He could hear Zeng Like shouting, and then Wu Zhi came as well—but none of it did much to restrain Wu Shiming’s fury. In the midst of the chaos, Wu Heng grabbed a cigarette ashtray and threw it back casually.

The ashtray struck Wu Zhi.

The house instantly fell into even greater chaos. The concern on Zeng Like’s face became more genuine, and when blood began to run down Wu Zhi’s face, she even started crying.

Immediately, the couple helped Wu Zhi out the door. Wu Shiming grabbed the car keys. “I’ll deal with you when I get back.” He left behind those cold, gloomy words.

“Big brother, I’m okay. Big brother, come too—we’ll go see the doctor together—” Wu Zhi’s voice grew fainter and fainter as she was taken away.

—

Wu Heng pulled out a suitcase from the cabinet and took out the stack of cash he had saved over the years, along with his bank card. He took almost everything he could possibly carry, because he knew that once he left, he would never come back.

If things didn’t go well with Xie Chongyi—if their lifestyles clashed and the other party threw him out—these things would still be useful.

He even went downstairs to borrow another suitcase from Lin Mengzhi. When Lin Mengzhi heard he was running away from home, he was overjoyed and immediately brought over a few woven plastic sacks to help him pack.

Lin Mengzhi’s packing style was nothing like Wu Heng’s orderly and rational approach. He swept up everything that could be taken from the living room, bathroom, and study—daily necessities, school supplies—stuffing them into five huge sacks.

“After this cleanup, your place actually looks much bigger!”

“…”

“I told you to leave earlier. If you’d left sooner, you wouldn’t have been beaten for so many years. It’s not like I can’t afford to put you through school anyway. It’s just that I won’t be getting married anytime soon…” Lin Mengzhi kept rambling until he tied up all the sacks. “Wait here, I’ll find someone to drive you.”

It was an old residential complex, and everyone knew each other’s situations very well.

When people heard Wu Heng was leaving, a young guy whom Lin Mengzhi found dropped his chopsticks and came over immediately. “Go, go, go—let’s run!”

After he told Lin Mengzhi, everything that followed was no longer under control—but at the same time, it unfolded with an odd sense of natural inevitability.

Wu Heng was shoved into the passenger seat of a small cargo truck. Lin Mengzhi leaned against the window.

“You send your friend’s address to him. I won’t go with you—I still need to help out at my master’s birthday banquet. I’ve got to go lend a hand, and then, and then…”

Wu Heng hugged his backpack. It would be a lie to say he wasn’t moved. Just as he thought Lin Mengzhi was about to say something deeply heartfelt, the other scratched his head and lowered his voice.

“And then when those two beasts realize you’re gone, they’re definitely going to make a fuss. I’ll film it and send it to you on WeChat, hahaha.”

“…”

Wu Heng curved his lips slightly. “Thanks, Mengzhi.”

“Thanks for what? Hurry up, go. Run. Don’t come back. You turned eighteen two months ago anyway—police can’t really control you anymore. Go far away.”

The forty-to-fifty-minute drive left Wu Heng’s mind in chaos. This was the first time he was acting purely out of emotion, so he still didn’t send any message to Xie Chongyi. He told Lin Mengzhi’s friend to drop him off at the entrance of the residential area; the driver even received a 50-yuan cigarette tip. The entrance was still far from the building where Xie Chongyi lived.

He sat among a pile of woven plastic sacks and several suitcases, still needing time to think things through.

It was already very late. This area was a well-known affluent district, with very little traffic.

Only patrol cars slowed down every time they passed him, shining flashlights at him—his appearance really did look like a poor relative come to freeload.

After circling him seven or eight times, they eventually stopped paying attention altogether.

If there was nothing to freeload, they would naturally leave.

The night grew deeper, and the air grew colder. Not enough to be freezing, but enough to feel uncomfortable. Wu Heng had already used a dry stick to poke through the cracks in the ground beneath him until not a speck of dust remained.

Xie Chongyi’s phone was on Do Not Disturb while he slept, and by now he was already asleep—but the residential staff still had ways to contact him if necessary.

The entrance screen requested a video call for the third time. Xie Chongyi walked to the door with a clearly annoyed expression and answered it.

“Hey, I’ll show you,” the security guard in the booth pointed the camera toward the road and the large pile there. “Do you recognize this person?”

Half-asleep, Xie Chongyi thought it was just a pile of trash.

“It’s not something I threw out. Ask someone else,” he said, already about to hang up.

Seeing this, the guard panicked and told him to wait.

On the screen, a uniformed figure moved hurriedly, the camera shaking erratically. Xie Chongyi looked on in confusion.

“You—yes, you. Look up.” The guard steadied the camera. His voice was rough and loud. “Take a look and see if you recognize him. I remember he came into the residential area with you yesterday…”

The image on the screen froze on a boy’s small, dazed face. He still didn’t understand what was going on.

“Is there something wrong?” he asked, like a stray cat being suddenly tugged at the ear while it was daydreaming.

<< _ >>

The post Eaten Ch.233.2 first appeared on A Wandering Potato.

Wu Heng couldn’t bring himself to say it, even when the parrot had hopped right in front of him, urging him on. He still couldn’t get the words out.

“It’s getting late. I should head back.” Wu Heng grabbed his backpack. Not wanting to leave too abruptly, he turned back and said, “See you at school.” One person and one bird standing by the island counter watched his back until it was shut out behind the door.

The twilight after sunset didn’t last long. It faded too quickly to carry him all the way home, so by the time Wu Heng arrived, the sky had already gone completely dark.

Lin Mengzhi leaned on the fence, one hand holding a bowl and the other chopsticks. “I suspect you’re in a relationship.”

“Nonsense.”

Wu Heng covered his burning ears as he walked into the stairwell. His movements while taking out his keys became increasingly hurried and flustered. Love had nothing to do with him—but the mere existence of love was enough to make one’s heart race and face flush.

After the door opened, the warmth in his body instantly cooled. He put on a lifeless expression, as if he had stepped into a tomb, and greeted the three people eating in the living room one by one. Before Wu Zhi could even respond, he had already walked into his room.

Zeng Like helped Wu Shiming pick a dish and sighed. “This child probably hates us now.”

Wu Shiming’s thin face showed a strange smile. “He’s just a kid. After one night’s sleep, he won’t remember anything.”

The woman deeply agreed.

Wu Heng understood exactly what they were thinking. He studied in his room until late at night. After the other three people in the house had gone to rest, he went to the bathroom to wash up. Aside from his own room, his presence in the apartment was very faint—most of his belongings were placed in corners. Like his things, he was the same. He didn’t care.

During those hours of revision, he never looked at his phone. When he finally did, it was already flooded with messages—most of them from Lin Mengzhi, and only a few from Xie Chongyi.

[Class Monitor: Got home?]

[Class Monitor: It seems Xiao Xie really likes you. After you left, it was still at the window looking down.]

[Class Monitor: Do you have someone you like at school?]

[Class Monitor: I’m certain you don’t.]

After replying with a question mark, Wu Heng randomly selected a sticker and sent it to Lin Mengzhi. Anyway, Lin Mengzhi didn’t care what he replied with—he just kept sending messages on his own.

The chat window was completely empty. It was too late, and Xie Chongyi hadn’t replied. After thinking for a moment, he typed “Good night” and sent it over—but just as he saw Lin Mengzhi’s side showing typing…, and guessed another incoming barrage of messages, he turned off his phone, closed his eyes, and fell asleep.

Early the next morning, Wu Heng opened the chat filled with “99+” messages and again randomly sent a sticker.

The school commute was the same as usual. He went to school alone, passing by groups walking together. At worst, even lone students would find companions at the school gate—only he remained alone from start to finish.

But his presence didn’t draw attention. Once someone accepts their own loneliness, the world also accepts that person’s loneliness. However, that didn’t mean the boy’s appearance was as unremarkable as his movements.

His eyes, his nose, his lips, the elegant lines of his face, even the faint crease between his brows when he frowned in annoyance—all of it had been discovered and recorded by attentive girls in the “No. 1 Middle School Beauty Book.” And after summarizing their observations, they concluded that Wu Heng was actually the most beautiful person in the entire history of the school.

However, even such a dazzling title couldn’t add much brilliance to someone like Wu Heng, who was as plain and solid as a pebble. Most classmates cared more about who embarrassed themselves by pulling their pants down during the flag-raising ceremony than about beauty—and good-looking people often became nothing more than someone’s private thought.

For example, Xie Chongyi—his focus wasn’t as vulgar as other people’s—but before Wu Heng even walked into the classroom, he had already been sitting at his seat, spinning a pen for almost half an hour. Normally, he only arrived right on time for class.

The boy rested his chin on his hand, casually observing everyone who walked into the classroom. But in truth, there was nothing in his eyes—he wasn’t looking at anyone at all. It was as if a hazy fog had obscured his vision. The people walking in were chickens and ducks, cattle and horses, shrubs and bushes—anything, but not human beings.

Until Wu Heng appeared, the sunlight seemed to disperse the thick fog lingering in the classroom. Only then did he hear a few hurried shouts: “It’s raining! A torrential downpour!”

Xie Chongyi lowered his left hand and moved his stiff neck, then switched to supporting his face with his right hand. He watched, unhurried, as Wu Heng came closer and closer, admiring the way droplets slid from his hair tips, down his cheeks, and along his face.

Wu Heng kept wiping them away with his palm, but there were always stray drops slipping through, sliding into his collar and tracing down his chest and abdomen.

He could replace them. He could lick deeper than they could.

Xie Chongyi blinked once, finding this turn of events rather troubling. He had originally thought that his feelings for the other person would be slightly more noble and pure than the common emotions in society.

Yet that self-assumed belief hadn’t even lasted twenty-four hours before he realized he might have crowned himself the king of indecency because of this budding fixation.

Wu Heng, completely unaware that their friendship had already changed in nature, gave Xie Chongyi a smile that, in the other’s eyes, could only be described as sweet, and said, “Good morning, Class Monitor.”

Xie Chongyi reacted quickly, curling his lips into a smile. “Morning.”

—

During the final stage of revision, coursework was heavy. The laughter in school rarely came from the senior year students; even after class, the classroom remained quiet.

Wu Heng lay on his desk for a nap, using the stack of worksheets handed out that morning as a pillow—multiple subjects layered together.

He had risen more than twenty places in the grade ranking in this monthly exam. The paper had been difficult, and he was one of the few who could still manage to sleep through it.

At school, he didn’t interact much with Xie Chongyi. One sat in the front-right of the classroom, the other in the back-left. They weren’t in a relationship where speaking was necessary; in student life, that kind of distance was roughly equivalent to half the Earth.

Yet such a distant gap still allowed Xie Chongyi to look in that direction without restraint.

In just one morning, Xie Chongyi had already noticed several moles on Wu Heng’s body—each one, in his mind, no less significant than Newton discovering gravity.

Until a snap echoed in front of him.

Xue Shen pulled out the empty chair in front of Xie Chongyi and sat down, following his line of sight. “What are you looking at?”

Xie Chongyi calmly withdrew his gaze and said indifferently, “I don’t chat with people who don’t have guaranteed admission.”

“……”

That sentence successfully redirected Xue Shen’s anger.

“You’ve been disappearing every weekend for several weeks now,” Xue Shen said. “Xue Qi has asked me about it several times.”

“Does he need something from me?”

“…Not really. He just wanted to ask if you want to play games together.”

“Boring,” Xie Chongyi replied flatly. “The college entrance exams are coming soon. Doesn’t he know that?”

“Then I guess he’s just wondering what you’ve been doing all this time. Can’t he ask?” Xue Shen was increasingly suspicious that his friend had been doing something shady during his free time.

“Nothing much. I just went out to eat a few meals with Wu Heng.”

Xie Chongyi hadn’t intended to hide it in the first place, but he also didn’t have the habit of detailing his schedule to others. However, not telling his friends about his relationship with Wu Heng might have had another reason: he felt their relationship was still more than what it seemed, and it was too early to define it.

At the same time, he didn’t want to act secretively either. He and Wu Heng weren’t anything shameful.

Xue Shen’s mind took a moment to catch up. With Wu Heng? Eating together? Wait—how did Xie Chongyi and Wu Heng even end up together? Was it just because of that unavoidable shared-room situation some time ago?

“You two had a one-night stand?” Xue Shen raised an eyebrow, deliberately pushing the exaggeration further.

Xie Chongyi paused for a moment, then let out a helpless sigh. “I’m afraid I have to disappoint you. Things didn’t develop in the direction you’re imagining.”

At times, Xue Shen really wondered if Xie Chongyi would die without speaking in riddles.

But as a friend, he also understood him. The reason he always spoke in such an indirect, roundabout way was because the other person was simply performing a solo act—no one else was on the same stage.

Xue Shen turned to look at the person at the center of the topic. Only half of Wu Heng’s face was visible. He was calm, like a small stretch of lake in a winter wilderness. He lay there sleeping—unlike Xie Chongyi, who was constantly restless and energetic.

“Does he know?” Xue Shen asked, then answered himself. “He doesn’t.”

A person like Wu Heng, if he found out that Xie Chongyi liked him, would probably turn and run immediately.

Still, Xue Shen couldn’t be sure he was right—after all, the first time he met Xie Chongyi, he had also misjudged him as arrogant, brainless, and having vulgar taste with nothing but a pretty face.

So curiosity crept in. “But you two don’t look familiar at all.”

Xie Chongyi sent him away. He didn’t like discussing his private matters with anyone. Besides, even he himself was only a discoverer of this situation—he hadn’t decided what to do about Wu Heng yet.

After all, Wu Heng wasn’t really his snake. He was a living, breathing person. He couldn’t truly keep him like a snake in a warm box, feeding him a few pinky mice every day and then placing him beside his pillow when he slept…

The more Xie Chongyi thought about it, the more appealing it became, and the clearer he became about what he wanted to do.

But snakes were usually timid and easily startled. Xie Chongyi adopted the same posture as when he napped with Wu Heng and lay down on his desk, thinking to himself that his smooth, trouble-free high school life had finally been interrupted by something irritating.

The heavy rain had eased into a light drizzle in the afternoon, but it never fully stopped. Even by the time school ended, it was still falling steadily.

Wu Heng was one of the few students who had brought an umbrella.

He paid no attention to the classmates stuck in the classroom, slung his backpack over his shoulder, took out his umbrella from the desk drawer, and walked out amid the envious gaze of his deskmate.

Less than three minutes later, the boy who had left hurriedly came rushing back, slightly out of breath. He stood at the classroom door, scanning the room, and as expected, he found Xie Chongyi.

Just as he thought, the class monitor didn’t have an umbrella either.

But he wouldn’t ignore Xie Chongyi the way he ignored others. He pushed through the people crowded at the front of the room, frustratedly watching the rain, his hair slightly messy, and walked up to him in a low voice.

“Leaving or not?”

Xie Chongyi was leaning sideways, rummaging through his desk when he looked up in a hurry. “Hm?”

“You don’t have an umbrella. I’ll take you to get a taxi. Let’s go.”

Wu Heng was always generous toward “his own people.”

Xie Chongyi confirmed that his own umbrella was properly hidden, stood up with his backpack, and very naturally put an arm around Wu Heng’s shoulder.

“The rain outside is really heavy. Good thing I have you.”

Wu Heng glanced at the arm resting on his shoulder with a puzzled look—did they really need to use a posture meant for sharing an umbrella while they were still indoors?

The umbrella ended up in Xie Chongyi’s hand. Being slightly taller than Wu Heng, he tilted most of it toward him. Then, as if casually, he brought up the parrot.

“After you left yesterday, Xiao Xie kept acting up.”

“Ah?” Wu Heng didn’t immediately react, still not used to calling the bird “Xiao Xie.” “Oh, really? Maybe it’s just not used to the new environment. It’s not because of me.”

“It knows your name. It must be because of you.”

Wu Heng looked at him.

Xie Chongyi smiled at him. “I didn’t teach it.”

The boys usually went home by taxi. Many cars were waiting at the intersection.

Wu Heng took the umbrella from his hand, holding it over the roof of the car. Only after the other boy got in did a sudden grip close around his damp, cold wrist.

“There’s still some time before the college entrance exams,” the boy said. “Tell your dad this—my house is quieter, better for studying. Come stay at my place.”

Wu Heng’s gaze was distant and unfocused. “You care about my studies more than my own father does.”

The back of the taxi disappeared into the rain curtain.

Wu Heng rested the umbrella on his shoulder. The puddles on the road easily soaked his old canvas shoes. After refusing Xie Chongyi’s suggestion, his mind remained blank for a long time.

He had always believed that humans, like many lower animals, possessed a strong sense of territory. Even though he had never been qualified to have such a thing himself, that didn’t mean Xie Chongyi didn’t.

And someone as proud and aloof as Xie Chongyi would find it even harder to truly open his home to someone—yesterday had only been a visit, not living together. Living together meant sharing a nest, like animals do.

But he had invited him. He had shared it with him.

Wu Heng did not avoid a single puddle on the road. He even deliberately let water spill into his shoes. The coldness below his ankles could not offset the heat spreading through the rest of his body.

<< _ >>

The post Eaten Ch.233.1 first appeared on A Wandering Potato.

As they were leaving the shop, the waitress handed them two beautifully packaged bags of handmade cookies. Xie Chongyi didn’t take any and gave them all to Wu Heng instead.

Wu Heng tried one. It tasted really good.

“You seriously don’t want any?”

Xie Chongyi truly didn’t. He only asked the waitress for a bottle of water.

After noticing that Xie Chongyi hadn’t taken out his phone to pay and had simply recited a membership card number instead, Wu Heng finally couldn’t help asking once they stepped outside, “Do you always spend this much money?”

At school, compared to many others, the class monitor didn’t wear luxury brands from head to toe, didn’t collect rare handmade crafts, and didn’t have any expensive hobbies. Even Lin Mengzhi liked chasing niche subcultures, yet whenever Xie Chongyi spent money, he was shockingly generous.

“A little,” Xie Chongyi replied, wearing a rare expression of emptiness. “I don’t really have a concept of money.”

The two wandered aimlessly down the street. Wu Heng asked why. His own life had been terrible, yet he still understood the value of money very clearly.

“Because I’ve had a lot of money since I was little.”

“…” Before Xie Chongyi answered, Wu Heng had imagined many possibilities, but he hadn’t expected the real reason to feel so strangely sad.

Watching Wu Heng sink into thought, Xie Chongyi couldn’t help curling his lips into a faint smile. He reached out and lightly pinched the other boy’s arm, continuing in a calm tone, “And no one ever told me money was important.”

Wu Heng’s thoughtful expression slowly turned suspicious. “So all you needed was a lot of love?”

“You could say that.”

Wu Heng glanced sideways at Xie Chongyi, trying to judge whether he was telling the truth. Before this, in Wu Heng’s eyes, Xie Chongyi had seemed exactly like the ultimate believer in meritocracy. The pride carved into his bones was impossible to hide, and that pride made him seem like a machine coldly passing judgment on everyone around him.

“Are you the same as me?” Xie Chongyi tossed the question back to Wu Heng.

“I don’t know,” Wu Heng answered without hesitation. “I need it, but there are more important things my life needs too.”

“What things?”

Wu Heng didn’t answer. He didn’t let Xie Chongyi know that the more important thing was survival. People like Xie Chongyi could never truly understand that, even if they were friends now.

Yet Xie Chongyi seemed to have gotten his answer anyway, reaching out to ruffle Wu Heng’s hair.

Wu Heng shot him a strange look. Back at home, whenever Wu Zhi did something that made him feel especially warm or comforted, he would also rub Wu Zhi’s head like that.

Still, Wu Heng didn’t think Xie Chongyi was treating him like a puppy or like a “little sister.” He just felt the gesture was a bit too intimate.

But he didn’t dislike it, so he didn’t immediately pull away.

After the meal, they wandered through a flower, bird, and fish market. Everything there was cheap, and the two of them picked out huge bundles of fresh flowers and several plump little goldfish.

Wu Heng struggled to carry seven or eight Japanese enkianthus branches over a meter long, while Xie Chongyi was holding even more than he was—daisies, roses, delphiniums—so many flowers that they almost buried his entire upper body.

“You’re taking all of these home? There’s no room for them at my place.” Wu Heng stepped around a puddle as he spoke.

“Yeah. Come back with me.”

Wu Heng nodded, not thinking there was anything strange about it. The class monitor couldn’t possibly carry all this stuff alone anyway, even if he’d insisted on buying it himself.

The sun had already begun slipping down from the sky, turning into a hazy orange glow. It washed the worn-down streets of the old city in color until they looked like a photograph from an evening newspaper. Around them were voices, traffic sounds, and the cries of small animals, all transforming that picture into something alive and constantly changing.

Then a sudden shout, raised to full volume, tore through the beautiful noise.

“Are you f*cking stupid?! I spent tens of thousands buying you, and you still can’t even learn to say ‘welcome’?!”

Along with the shouting came the frantic flapping of bird wings, loud rustling sounds, and the bird’s furious cries of resistance. It had even bitten the man several times, because right after that the man shouted in disbelief, “You f*cking dared to bite me?!”

Wu Heng didn’t stop to watch the scene unfold. He didn’t even spare it a glance. Human or bird, everyone could only fend for themselves.

But the boy walking beside him, Xie Chongyi, suddenly stopped, forcing Wu Heng to stop and wait too.

Only then did Wu Heng see that the one being beaten was a gray parrot. Its feathers weren’t especially glossy, but its strong frame was obvious enough. Whoever bought it had clearly spent a fortune on it. Yet the bird hadn’t provided the kind of return the man expected from such an expensive purchase, and so it had earned punches and kicks instead.

Seeing customers pause at the entrance, the man immediately stopped hitting the bird. He shut the cage tightly, hung it behind a curtain on a rope, pulled the curtain closed, then jogged out to greet them.

“What are you looking to buy? My tropical fish selection is the best in this whole market!”

Xie Chongyi unnecessarily wandered through the shop as if browsing, sounding oddly curious about the bird. “What kind of bird is that? I’ve never seen one before.”

“Heh, just an ordinary parrot. I’ve had it for months now, and it still can’t say a single word. Total waste of money.”

“Maybe you taught it wrong?” Xie Chongyi questioned casually.

“Impossible!” the owner immediately snapped, glaring furiously. “I followed the training guides exactly. I’ve been more patient with it than I was with my third wife.”

Hearing the man shouting inside, Wu Heng stood outside the shop wearing a deeply skeptical expression.

“Why not just sell it?” Xie Chongyi suggested.

“Sigh, easy for you to say.” The man rubbed his rough palms together, looking even more miserable. “That bird cost me a fortune. Finding someone willing to pay for it isn’t easy. And forget the money—it’s even harder finding the right buyer who actually knows how to care for birds. I mean, you can’t sell it to someone who abuses animals, or someone who abandons pets on a whim. They need compassion, patience, financial stability… Ah, forget it, forget it. Guess I’m just unlucky. Tens of thousands wasted for nothing.”

“Then just sell it cheaper,” Wu Heng said as he stepped onto the stairs, his long brows knitting together.

“I can’t exactly give it away for free.”

“Fifty. Can you accept that?” Xie Chongyi asked.

Wu Heng: “…”

Only then did the owner realize. “So you two aren’t here to buy fish—you want the bird?!”

Seeing the man’s face darken instantly, Wu Heng thought for a moment before saying, “We were just passing by. Wanted to help solve your problem. If you don’t want to sell it, forget it.”

Xie Chongyi also turned as if preparing to leave.

“Hey, hey!” the owner hurriedly called after them. “Sell it? Of course I’ll sell it! But there’s no way I can let it go for fifty. If you’re only paying fifty, I might as well pluck its feathers and stew it into soup.”

In the end, the gray parrot was sold to Xie Chongyi for 6,600 yuan.

At that point, Xie Chongyi was already carrying too many things to handle a birdcage too, so the cage ended up in Wu Heng’s hands. The cage swayed constantly as the gray parrot shifted its footing inside again and again. Stretching its head out between the metal bars, it looked from one human to the other, then suddenly blurted out a loud:

“Idiot!”

But by then they had already walked far away, so the owner never heard it. And because he never heard it, he never realized that the gray parrot’s refusal to speak had simply been because it didn’t want to obey him.

—

The birdcage and the goldfish were placed on the front passenger seat of the taxi. In the back sat the two boys, along with flowers and enkianthus branches taking up almost one and a half seats by themselves. They all looked terribly delicate; being squeezed together would bruise them, knock off petals and leaves, leave them battered and damaged.

So Wu Heng ended up almost curled into Xie Chongyi’s arms.

The scent lingering on the boy’s body and in his hair blocked out the overly sweet fragrance of the flowers that would otherwise have filled Xie Chongyi’s senses.

One of Xie Chongyi’s hands idly traced along the car window, while the other rested awkwardly against the back of the seat. If he didn’t look out the window and lowered his gaze instead, he would see the pale nape of Wu Heng’s neck, finer and whiter than white roses. A slight glance farther down, and there were Wu Heng’s lips, softer and more vivid than red roses.

Most boys probably wouldn’t want to be described as “beautiful.” Xie Chongyi knew that perfectly well, which was why he only kept the thought to himself. And after studying him again and again, he decided that even if he said it aloud, it still wouldn’t change his opinion.

“I heard that before putting flowers into a vase, you’re supposed to cut the stems diagonally,” Wu Heng said thoughtfully.

But Xie Chongyi didn’t catch it clearly. While Wu Heng was speaking, he suddenly heard a burst of static in his ears. He asked what he had said, and Wu Heng repeated himself. This time the static disappeared, but the air inside the taxi seemed to heat up, as if the sunset itself had leapt into the car and begun roasting them.

The warmth swept through Xie Chongyi’s chest, softening his heart, melting it, drying it out, until nothing remained but a pinch of dust.

His beautiful friend had absolutely no idea how attractive he was.

“Why?” Xie Chongyi realized that when he spoke, his throat felt tight and sore. The last time he’d felt like this had been one morning the previous week.

Completely unaware of the changes happening in Xie Chongyi’s mind, Wu Heng answered, “It helps them absorb water better.”

The moment he finished speaking, the taxi suddenly lurched forward and stopped hard. Up front, the birdcage and plastic fish tank crashed onto the floor with loud bangs.

In the back seat, Wu Heng pitched forward while clutching the flowers.

Xie Chongyi reacted quickly and caught him in his arms. In the process, the tip of his nose brushed lightly across the skin at the back of Wu Heng’s neck.

He didn’t mean anything else by it. He only wanted to confirm whether he truly felt desire toward the other boy—whether, inside and out, from top to bottom, he really wanted him that way.

Up front, after cursing several times in dialect, the driver finally restarted the car.

After that, Xie Chongyi kept a polite distance from Wu Heng for the rest of the journey.

Wu Heng only noticed that his class monitor seemed to talk less—starting somewhere halfway through the trip. By the time they were almost at their destination, the other boy had fallen completely silent.

—

Xie Chongyi changed into slippers first. After taking the flowers and the birdcage from Wu Heng, he bent down and pulled out a brand-new pair of slippers from the cabinet, unwrapping them and handing them over.

“No need for new ones,” Wu Heng said, thinking it was unnecessary to be so polite.

Xie Chongyi simply opened the shoe cabinet generously to show him: there were no spare used slippers.

Only then did Wu Heng put on the new pair. Once inside, he immediately felt a kind of emptiness in the house—just like the shoe cabinet.

“Are you the only one living here?”

“They’re all in the capital,” Xie Chongyi replied.

Leaning against the shoe cabinet, he opened the birdcage. The gray parrot shot out at once, flying wildly around the room before landing on top of a speaker.

“Help me trim the flower stems?” he asked.

Wu Heng walked around to the other side of the kitchen island. Xie Chongyi brought over a vase and scissors. Wu Heng unwrapped the flowers one by one, then glanced at the vase.

“You only have one vase?”

“Three, I think.”

“Even three isn’t enough. Enkianthus usually shouldn’t be placed in the same vase as other plants.”

“Then take the extras home,” Xie Chongyi said with a faint smile. “Just say a friend gave them to you.”

Wu Heng thought about it and nodded. People like Wu Shiming and the others were annoying, but they probably wouldn’t care where his flowers came from.

At that moment, a gray shadow flashed past—it was the parrot again. It landed between the two of them, tilting its head from side to side.

“Does it have a name?” Xie Chongyi asked.

The gray parrot paced back and forth.

“Eat.”

Xie Chongyi ignored him completely. With his eyes lowered, he thought for a while and said, “Since it’s become my bird, it should take my surname. Let’s call it Xiao Xie.”

The gray parrot looked as if it had just been crowned. It spread its wings and strutted around the kitchen island twice.

Wu Heng hesitated as if he wanted to say something, until Xie Chongyi asked what was wrong. Only then did he speak.

“Isn’t that your own name?”

“I’m Xie Chongyi. It’s Xiao Xie. Different things.”

Wu Heng didn’t think there was any real difference—it was still just a nickname.

“Call it,” Xie Chongyi said, setting down the scissors and roses, suddenly interested in turning it into a little game of teasing the bird.

It didn’t seem like a big deal. Wu Heng opened his lips, but no sound came out.

Deep down, he didn’t agree with using his surname for a bird’s name. A full name might have been acceptable, but just the surname alone—who could tell whether you were calling a bird or a person?

<< _ >>

The post Eaten Ch.232 first appeared on A Wandering Potato.

For the remaining half day, Wu Heng wandered around in a daze following Xie Chongyi. Since Xie Chongyi had grown up in the capital, he knew the area like the back of his hand and took him all over the place. That evening, Xie Chongyi treated him to the most delicious donuts he had ever eaten.

Carrying big bags filled with food and drinks, Xie Chongyi spent their final bit of time taking him into a subtly extravagant hair salon with an absurdly high minimum charge.

“I don’t need a haircut,” Wu Heng said. He could accept spending five hundred yuan on a good meal, but he absolutely couldn’t accept spending five hundred just to cut his hair.

Xie Chongyi reached out and brushed aside the loose strands over his forehead. Because of the sudden closeness, Wu Heng instinctively closed his eyes for a moment.

When he opened them again, Xie Chongyi had already withdrawn his hand.

“No haircut. I’m just treating you to a hair wash.”

That sounded even more ridiculous. He could wash his hair at the hotel.

Still, since he didn’t have to pay for it himself, Wu Heng made a token protest before following Xie Chongyi inside.

The overly spacious and brightly lit public area made Wu Heng feel slightly uncomfortable, but the feeling didn’t last long. After confirming that the customer was an old VIP member, the staff led them into the shampoo room.

As they walked, Xie Chongyi undid the top button of his collar. Turning back to locate Wu Heng, he saw him already lying down on the bed beside his own and said nothing.

Instead, it was the hairstylist preparing the washing tools beside him who spoke first.

“You and Xie Chongyi must be pretty close, huh?”

Wu Heng looked up at the ring of light above him and answered in an even tone, “Classmates.”

A rather teasing “Tch” sounded from behind him. The hairstylist turned on the showerhead, testing the water temperature as he bent down and said, “He used to only book private rooms when he came here.”

“He came alone,” Wu Heng replied without surprise.

“Oh no, he also came with ‘classmates,’” the hairstylist said, deliberately emphasizing the word “classmates.”

Wu Heng wasn’t dense. His fingertips scratched awkwardly at his forearm, his skin itching endlessly as though brushed over and over by waves of wheat stalks.

The boy tried to figure out what was different between himself and the people Xie Chongyi had dated before, only to realize he had no frame of reference for comparison. He had never had friends growing up. He disliked dealing with people—relationships inevitably required opening up one’s heart, but his heart felt empty. There was nothing valuable inside to offer, and he had no desire to repeatedly explain where the scars on his skin came from. People might cry for him, but perhaps he didn’t need those tears, nor would they move him because of them. He didn’t understand emotions; he had no way of being friends with others.

After adjusting the water to the right temperature, the hairstylist let the warm stream flow gently through his hair. Apparently expensive places really did have their reasons for charging so much—the stylist’s technique made Wu Heng feel as if his entire scalp had bloomed open, even making his face grow warm and soft.

He had assumed Xie Chongyi would talk to him. After all, washing hair wasn’t exactly short, but it wasn’t that long either.

Unfortunately, things didn’t go as he expected. He glanced over at him several times, only to find the other person with his eyes closed the whole time, as though asleep.

So Wu Heng slept too.

There was no doubt that Xie Chongyi paid more attention to his appearance. His regularly maintained hair didn’t require much trimming. Wu Heng, on the other hand, was completely different. Since he rarely bothered taking care of it, the hairstylist spent quite a while just deciding what kind of hairstyle would suit him.

Having already finished, Xie Chongyi walked over and bent down behind Wu Heng, his chin nearly resting on Wu Heng’s shoulder. When he spoke, warm breath brushed against him.

“No matter what, show your eyes.”

Wu Heng lifted his eyelids slightly but said nothing.

The hairstylist hooked up a strand of hair hanging over the boy’s forehead with his scissors. “Like this?”

It was practically cut to the roots.

Xie Chongyi shook his head. “A tough-guy look? I don’t like it.”

“I’m not cutting it for you. What if he likes it?” The hairstylist looked at Wu Heng through the mirror. “This length—okay?”

Wu Heng answered honestly, “Too short.”

If the eyes were the windows to the soul, then Wu Heng did not want them fully opened.

After carefully considering it, the hairstylist nodded. “Actually, longer hair suits you better, because you’re really quite… beautiful. Would it offend you if I described you that way?”

Wu Heng shook his head. He himself had no idea how a word like that could possibly be associated with him.

The hairstylist found it surprising too. When the boy had first followed behind Xie Chongyi into the salon, he had been utterly unremarkable. How should he put it? There was a sort of decayed, worn-down feeling about him, so the stylist hadn’t paid much attention at first. But once the shampoo assistant handed him over, before his hair had even fully dried, the moment he looked at him, it felt as though his eyes had been lit up involuntarily.

Once the hairstylist began working, Xie Chongyi moved off to a nearby seat.

Just as the stylist had said earlier, he believed the customer suited longer hair, so every snip of the scissors was extremely restrained. He mostly trimmed only the ends, and for some sections, he could barely bring himself to cut even the tips.

Without blinking, Wu Heng watched the stylist’s movements. Had he actually cut any hair at all?

Click.

The sound of a camera shutter came from nearby.

Wu Heng and the hairstylist both turned their heads at the same time.

—Xie Chongyi was holding up his phone.

Completely composed, the boy said to the two of them, “Just recording life. Didn’t take a picture of you.”

The hairstylist rolled his eyes and continued working. “He took a picture of you. Go check later how it turned out. If it’s ugly, make him delete it.”

“He said he didn’t take one.”

“What he said was that he didn’t take me, because he doesn’t photograph ugly things.”

Wu Heng couldn’t help tugging slightly at the corner of his mouth. He could understand the class monitor’s strange sense of humor.

An hour and a half later, the customer’s hair length seemed almost unchanged, yet the hairstyle itself had transformed dramatically, and with it, his entire aura.

Most noticeably, the gloominess around him had turned into quiet stillness—so long as you didn’t look too carefully into his eyes.

Wu Heng himself, however, felt that his hair had become much shorter. Even the world in front of him seemed noticeably brighter.

“Thanks,” he said to the hairstylist before turning to Xie Chongyi to ask for the photo.

“You care about whether you look good or bad?” Xie Chongyi had assumed Wu Heng didn’t care. Ever since he’d known him, the guy had always worn that homeless-looking hairstyle.

Wu Heng replied, “I’ve never been ugly.” Just ordinary.

Xie Chongyi sent him the photo and accidentally sent the receipt along with it.

“In that case, treat me to a meal tomorrow.”

Wu Heng shot him a suspicious glance, suspecting he had done it on purpose because he wanted to keep hanging out with him.

—

When they returned to the hotel, they were greeted by the fury of the supervising teacher. It was the first time Wu Heng had ever been scolded by a teacher. His mind drifted elsewhere entirely, until the word “self-criticism” came out of the teacher’s mouth, at which point he realized things were bad.

The hotel room already had a desk, though it was small. Sitting side by side felt cramped, so the two sat facing each other instead.

Wu Heng opened his phone, randomly found a self-criticism essay online, and copied from it.

Xie Chongyi reminded him not to end up writing the same thing as him.

“…”

“You’ve never written one before,” Xie Chongyi declared decisively after scribbling out a paragraph at high speed.

Wu Heng didn’t look up at the person across from him, but every strand of his hair seemed to radiate disbelief. Xie Chongyi ranked near the top of the grade and was considered a model student by both teachers and parents. The chances of him having written a self-criticism before were obviously even lower than Wu Heng’s.

Xie Chongyi lay down on the desk, his chin resting on his arm. Under the light, his dark pupils reflected warm glimmers like black obsidian as he looked up directly at Wu Heng.

“You don’t believe me?”

When Wu Heng gave no response, he lazily propped up his cheek again and said, “Writing self-criticisms is probably what geniuses and idiots are best at.”

Only then did Wu Heng’s pen pause slightly.

“What about you, class monitor?” he asked. “Which one are you?”

Before Wu Heng could even react, the hand reaching over from across the table pinched his left cheek between its fingers. Afraid it would hurt if twisted, he was forced to lean forward with it. It felt as though his life had been taken into someone else’s hands. He wasn’t used to this kind of intimacy with people; his whole body had already gone stiff.

Xie Chongyi pinched him for a while. His fingertips were just about to slide toward Wu Heng’s ear—he used to stroke his snake like this at home—when rapid knocking suddenly exploded against the door.

The door opened, and a head popped in at lightning speed. After glancing around the room, Lin Mengzhi completely forgot why he had come and blurted out in amazement, “Damn, why is your room so huge?!”

The person behind him shoved him farther inside before entering as well. “Old Xie paid extra to upgrade it himself.”

Lin Mengzhi asked Xue Shen why he hadn’t upgraded too.

Xue Shen replied, “Unless you split the cost with me.”

“Tch.” Completely at home already, Lin Mengzhi walked over and sat beside Wu Heng. “What’re you writing? A self-criticism? ‘Dear Teacher Li, I deeply regret my mistake this time. I should not have secretly gone out to have fun…’ What the hell is this? Fake as hell. Here, let me write it for you. I guarantee your teacher will start reflecting on whether they’re just way too uptight!”

Writing self-criticisms was probably the thing Lin Mengzhi excelled at most. Ever since he learned pinyin, he’d known how to write them. He snatched the pen straight out of Wu Heng’s hand and began writing with unstoppable inspiration.

Wu Heng watched him quietly for a long while before suddenly asking, “Between geniuses and idiots, which one are you?”

Lin Mengzhi proudly raised his hand. “Obviously I’m a genius!”

Xie Chongyi, who had been feeling irritated because Wu Heng seemed overly close with someone else, inexplicably felt soothed at the sight of this. Their gazes met briefly in midair.

That question had originally been asked by Xie Chongyi. It wasn’t exactly a secret—but because only the two of them had been there at the time, it had somehow become one.

And Wu Heng, realizing that he already shared a secret with a newly made friend on the very first day, couldn’t stop himself from smiling.

Very soon, Wu Heng recalled that “version of himself” that had appeared some time ago—together with another Xie Chongyi, looking like they shared a rather close relationship. A strange feeling filled the boy’s entire body. He guessed that they might have come from the future.

—

Some time later, they returned to Hanzhou. The weather had also begun to warm, carrying a faint, lingering heat.

The injury on Wu Shiming’s hand had not yet healed, so he could only vent his aggression toward Wu Heng with his eyes. His gaze was colder than before, and among his biting, sarcastic remarks, the word “monster” appeared more frequently.

Zeng Like occasionally comforted Wu Heng. “Don’t take it to heart. Your father’s emotions have been all over the place since his injury. It’s understandable that he’s frustrated.”

Wu Zhi hugged her doll and leaned against Wu Shiming. “Dad, if you’re angry, just take it out on me.”

Wu Shiming patted her head, while Zeng Like looked at her with affectionate eyes. Wu Heng quietly left the “family of three,” went into his room, and chose a more casual-looking school bag from the two he owned, taking it with him.

“Mom, I’m going out today,” Wu Heng said as he stepped out of the room.

Zeng Like didn’t really care where he was going and instinctively nodded. But right after doing so, she felt something odd. “You’ve been going out a lot on weekends recently. Sometimes you even come home later after school. Did something happen?”

“No,” Wu Heng said.

He had just made some new friends. It was currently the honeymoon phase.

Zeng Like studied his expression with a meaningful look. “It’s good to go out more. Don’t stay cooped up at home all the time. But don’t forget your studies either—exams are coming up soon.” She seemed to be talking to herself more than to him, suddenly smiling as her tone shifted from concern to tension to relief, as if she were the one about to take the college entrance exam.

“Still, it’s fine. With your grades, getting into any local university shouldn’t be a problem.”

Wu Heng nodded in agreement.

“If you’re going out, take Xiao Zhi along too. She hasn’t been out to play in a while either,” Zeng Like suggested.

Only then did a more genuine expression appear on Wu Heng’s face. “It’s not safe for her to go out.”

“Isn’t Xiao Zhi your sister?” Zeng Like said as she grabbed Wu Zhi and dragged her up, pushing her toward the room. “Go on, go on—go change into something nice. Your brother’s taking you out to have fun.”

Wu Zhi resisted as hard as she could, clearly hitting the brakes, because she could tell her brother didn’t want this. “I’d rather not go. I’m scared. There are bad people outside.”

“Fine.” Wu Zhi’s refusal was clearly effective on Zeng Like. She didn’t insist further, nor did she continue speaking to Wu Heng.

However, as soon as he went downstairs, Wu Heng ran into Lin Mengzhi, who was sunbathing in the courtyard.

For once, Wu Heng felt a bit guilty—and Lin Mengzhi immediately noticed it.

“What are you sneaking around for? Come eat lunch at my place later. My grandma’s about to show off her blind man’s cooking skills again.”

Wu Heng very much wanted to agree, but he already had plans. His hesitation was completely obvious to Lin Mengzhi, though Lin Mengzhi didn’t imagine for a second that his childhood friend had “someone else outside.” Instead, he assumed Wu Heng had been b*llied by someone who specifically called him out on a Sunday to beat him up.

But that didn’t seem right either. Lin Mengzhi slowly sat up from his recliner, squinting under the blazing sun. Who would dress themselves up nicely just to go get beaten up?

“You’re going out to play?” Lin Mengzhi suddenly realized. He hopped over to the fence with a few quick steps, looking pleasantly surprised. “You made a friend?”

Wu Heng nodded. “One.”

“One is already progress,” Lin Mengzhi said. “Are you eating out? If not, I’ll save you a portion. Otherwise those two upstairs definitely won’t leave anything for you.”

“I’ll eat outside,” Wu Heng said.

“Got money?”

“Yes.”

Lin Mengzhi watched him leave with a kind of “my child has finally grown up” satisfaction.

But when he turned around, he saw Wu Zhi on the second-floor balcony, wearing a sour, displeased expression.

“What is it?”

“Brother doesn’t love me anymore.”

“When did he ever love you?”

After making Wu Zhi cry, Lin Mengzhi hummed a tune and returned to his recliner, completely satisfied.

—

Wu Heng transferred twice before finally reaching the place he had agreed on with Xie Chongyi. He was far less familiar with this city than Xie Chongyi was, even though Xie Chongyi had only lived there for less than three years.

It was inside a church. Wu Heng stood outside the stained-glass windows and peered in carefully. In the last row of pews, the familiar boy sat with his head lowered, eyes closed, lips moving silently in prayer.

The boy curled his lips slightly. He didn’t believe in this—God wasn’t just blind, he was also deaf.

But Xie Chongyi probably should believe. People with good fortune needed belief; otherwise they had to balance out their flawless lives with large amounts of time and money devoted to their own foolishness.

Wu Heng sat under the grape trellis outside and waited until the prayer ended. When he finally saw Xie Chongyi, he approached from behind—but the other boy seemed to have eyes in the back of his head and turned around before he could even speak.

Startled, Wu Heng leaned back slightly, but quickly steadied himself.

“You’re here. Why didn’t you message me?” Xie Chongyi raised a brow.

“Is it okay to leave halfway through that?”

Xie Chongyi shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. I don’t believe in it anyway.”

Wu Heng frowned in confusion.

“I was just bored,” Xie Chongyi added lightly. “So I briefly tried what it feels like to be a believer.”

A faint, almost imperceptible anger rose in Wu Heng—along with something even more hidden, something like envy. But all of it dissolved the moment Xie Chongyi said he would take him to eat something.

Over the past few “dates,” the thing Xie Chongyi most often took Wu Heng to do was eat.

From upscale restaurants inside shopping malls, to private kitchens hidden deep in villa districts, from heritage eateries with both reputation and craftsmanship, to street stalls with long queues—Wu Heng gradually realized there was a fundamental difference between food and “delicious food.”

He had come to like the feeling of eating something truly tasty. It didn’t just bring him moments of happiness; it also gave him a deep sense of safety.

Perhaps this was an instinct of humans as animals: hunger leads to death, and death leads to fear. When he was younger and didn’t understand things, he was often punished by being denied meals.

“What are we eating today?” Wu Heng asked curiously.

“Nothing special. We’re having seafood.” Xie Chongyi pulled a piece of chocolate from his pocket, unwrapped it, and broke it in half, handing one piece to Wu Heng.

“…Only one piece?” Wu Heng said.

“You’re disgusted with me?” Xie Chongyi was suspicious as always.

And he was right. Wu Heng shook his head. “No.” He took the chocolate and ate it. Bitter and sweet at the same time.

They arrived at a modest-looking restaurant. The entire first floor was lined with glass tanks filled with seafood. Dining took place on the second floor—elegant and refined, almost as if they had stepped into a French noble’s castle. After checking their reservation, the waiter led them to a window seat. Outside was a garden filled with brightly colored poppies.

Wu Heng fiddled with the knife, fork, and chopsticks in front of him. “This looks expensive. Should we split it?”

“No need,” Xie Chongyi said. “You don’t have money.”

“…”

Wu Heng gave a dry “oh.” He really had nothing to say to his class monitor.

Forget it. Just eat.

The first dish served was a sashimi platter—spot prawns and salmon arranged in a circle around a lobster.

“You should be able to eat salmon. You liked it last week when we had that omakase barbecue.”

“That was barbecue.”

“Some of it was only lightly seared.”

“…Then I guess it should be fine.”

Xie Chongyi wiped his hands and peeled a mantis shrimp for Wu Heng.

Wu Heng had no psychological resistance like he did with raw fish. He simply pinched the shrimp’s head and brought the flesh straight into his mouth. It was ice-cold—once bitten into, the meat was sweet.

His eyes visibly lit up.

Noticing this, Xie Chongyi peeled two more for him.

The snake Xie Chongyi had kept before only stayed with him for two years before leaving. The doctor diagnosed it as depression. He didn’t think this was transference.

He was simply a little lonely. He always wanted to raise something.

In the end, he discovered that no matter what he raised, nothing felt as reassuring or long-lasting as raising a same-age high school boy who could eat and drink.

<< _ >>

The post Eaten Ch.231 first appeared on A Wandering Potato.

The teacher had already booked the hotel in advance. After unexpectedly running into Wu Heng on the bus, she tried to make another reservation, but the hotel was already fully booked. She completely ignored Wu Heng’s suggestion along the lines of “I’ll go stay at another hotel,” treating it as if she hadn’t heard it at all, and decisively assigned him and Lin Mengzhi to share a room with another classmate.

Only Xie Chongyi and Xue Shen were given a separate twin room. The two of them were particular; they would rather spend extra money to get an additional bed—one to sleep in and one to place their belongings on. The teacher then split the two people who had nowhere else to go into their rooms separately.

Wu Heng stood at the doorway for a moment before pulling his suitcase inside. The room was larger than he had expected. If it weren’t for the absence of extra doors, he would have mistaken it for a suite.

“The rooms were booked collectively by the teacher, but you can contact the hotel yourself to upgrade,” Xie Chongyi said, putting down his suitcase. He rolled up his sleeves, went into the bathroom to wash his hands, and then came out to continue, “Rooms of thirty to forty square meters are too small. They’re not suitable for living in.”

“Which bed do you want?” he asked Wu Heng.

Wu Heng casually pointed to the one by the window. “This one.”

Xie Chongyi took off his coat, pulled out a clean set of clothes from his suitcase, and went back into the bathroom.

Wu Heng didn’t change his clothes. He usually wouldn’t directly sit or lie on the bed while still wearing clothes he had worn outside. He let go of his suitcase handle and walked silently to the bedside. Their side of the room faced away from the bustling city, looking out toward a few quiet lakes instead.

Watching the occasional passersby below, Wu Heng didn’t know how much time had passed before he suddenly began to regret agreeing to share a room with a stranger. At least right now, Xie Chongyi was no different to him than a stranger.

As his whole body and mind started to feel increasingly uncomfortable, Wu Heng turned around, took a few steps back, grabbed his suitcase again, and prepared to leave to book another room—when Xie Chongyi came out of the bathroom, carrying a faint scent of steam.

“What’s wrong?” Seeing that Wu Heng looked like he was about to leave, a faint, almost imperceptible trace of confusion appeared between his brows.

For a long time, the deliberate obedience Wu Heng had maintained felt like his mouth had been sealed shut with melted sugar water. As the temperature of the sugar water gradually dropped, it clung tighter and tighter, until he could no longer open his mouth at all.

Wu Heng pushed his suitcase into the corner. Behind him came the sound of pages turning. He quickly glanced back—Xie Chongyi was already sitting on the bed, absorbed in studying.

There were no activities scheduled that day. In the evening, everyone ate together, and the teacher reminded them to rest early, as they would need to get up early the next morning.

Wu Heng didn’t eat much. He had never had much of an appetite to begin with, and even after lying down, he still couldn’t fall asleep.

There were other people in the room, so he didn’t take out his phone. He simply lay there with his eyes open, quietly staring at the ceiling of the hotel room.

Until he heard movement from the bed beside him, Wu Heng unnecessarily closed his eyes.

“Wu Heng, are you feeling very uncomfortable?”

“…No.”

After a while, Xie Chongyi’s voice became noticeably lower, as if he was getting sleepy.

“I originally wanted to stay up and talk with you, but if there’s nothing wrong, I’ll sleep now.”

Facing the window, Wu Heng looked at the overlapping dark clouds outside the glass and thought to himself: the class monitor is really kind-hearted.

After a long time of enduring it, Wu Heng finally began to feel sleepy. Several times, he suddenly woke up in a cold sweat and turned to look at Xie Chongyi, as if he had mistakenly wandered into the nest of a more dangerous beast, worried that the owner of the nest might not be so hospitable after all, but was merely treating him as stored food for the winter.

As a result, the next day, Wu Heng woke up even earlier than both of their alarms.

When Xie Chongyi’s alarm went off, Wu Heng was already sitting in the hotel buffet restaurant. By the time Xie Chongyi came out of the room, Wu Heng had just come out of the elevator with Lin Mengzhi. Whether or not Wu Heng did it on purpose, they had completely and perfectly missed each other’s activity schedules, even causing Xie Chongyi to feel a rather subtle sense of being disliked.

The day’s itinerary began, and Wu Heng followed at the very end of the group without saying a word. It had to be said that although he didn’t like moving around in large groups, there were at least some benefits to the current situation—at the very least, Lin Mengzhi wasn’t clinging to him anymore.

Around ten o’clock, they had just arrived at a local museum. The number of tourists pouring in from all over the country was unusually large, and Xie Chongyi, acting as class monitor, noticed that Wu Heng had disappeared from the group.

The teacher didn’t strictly restrict their movements, but most of them still remained within his line of sight.

Wu Heng had completely vanished by dusk. The teacher only said a few brief words to him and even asked whether he had eaten. Only then did Xie Chongyi realize that Wu Heng’s “free activity” had clearly been reported to the teacher in advance—just not told to him.

Too distant.

So distant that it didn’t even feel like they were classmates; it would be hard for anyone to believe they were even schoolmates.

In the room, the two beds were clearly separated, and the two of them were the same—neither of them said a single word. Only when it came to using the bathroom did Xie Chongyi sit at the desk and say, “You go shower first. I’ll finish a worksheet.”

After Wu Heng took his pajamas and went into the bathroom, no sound of running water came for a long time. When he came out after changing, he muttered, “There’s no water.”

His clothes had clearly been thrown on hastily; a large section was still tucked into his waistband, revealing a wide stretch of pale lower back and uneven patches of bruising.

“Does your father hit you often?” Before realizing how intrusive the question was, Xie Chongyi had already spoken.

Wu Heng didn’t try to hide it. “Occasionally. When he’s in a bad mood.”

“Have you reported it to the police?”

“The police aren’t going to live in my house.” When facing the police, Wu Shiming would put on such a well-behaved act that he could easily pass as the victim instead. Anyway, graduation was almost here—he would be able to leave this place soon enough.

By the time the conversation reached this point, it had already come to a natural stopping place for both Wu Heng and, even more so, for Xie Chongyi, who had initiated it in the first place.

Xie Chongyi closed his test paper and walked into the bathroom, tinkering with the showerhead on his own for a while. Wu Heng couldn’t help, so he stood at the doorway. The other boy was crouched by the shower controls, chin tilted up, his features sharp and clearly defined.

The bathroom lights were warm-toned. The clean clothes he had brought in were draped over the edge of the bathtub. Nearby, an incense stick was burning, filling the space with a calm, woody scent.

At that moment, something in Wu Heng’s chest gave a sudden, faint tightening. Light and shadow blurred the person in front of him into indistinct blocks of color. He almost absentmindedly turned his head away, as if to confirm once again that they were in a hotel room and not some private space like home. Only then did his heartbeat gradually return to normal.

Wu Heng wasn’t used to being too close to anyone. He rarely even shared a room with Lin Mengzhi.

Crash—

Lost in thought, he was startled by the sudden sound of water. Unexpectedly, it splashed directly over Xie Chongyi’s head.

Xie Chongyi calmly turned off the water. His hair was still dripping as he glanced toward the door. “Should I shower first?”

Wu Heng blinked blankly and closed the door for him.

Standing outside, the sound of water started again. Only then did Wu Heng begin to feel that there was something more human about the class monitor after all—at least that air of aloof pride had been broken.

During Xie Chongyi’s shower, Wu Heng sat at the end of the bed reading a mystery novel. He had already guessed the culprit when the character first appeared, but he never read books as a “whodunit” game. If the identity of the murderer couldn’t be known from the start, he simply wouldn’t continue reading.

“Wu Heng?”

Someone called him. The voice came so suddenly that his shoulders instinctively tensed—he had been too absorbed.

Xie Chongyi was asking him to hand over his pajamas from the bed.

Wu Heng didn’t think much of it. He picked up the pajamas from the adjacent bed and brought them to the door, knocking twice. When the door opened, a wet, sharply defined hand reached out from inside. Its target was slightly off—it grabbed Wu Heng’s wrist in one swift motion.

“Sorry.” Xie Chongyi reacted and let go quickly, but there was still a patch of warm water left on Wu Heng’s wrist where he had grabbed him.

Steam drifted through the bathroom. Facing the bathtub, Xie Chongyi slightly lowered his head and pulled the pajamas over himself from above. At the same time he lifted his eyes, Wu Heng’s pajamas and the clean cotton underwear placed on top of them were within his line of sight on the edge of the tub. For a brief moment, for reasons unknown, he gave a faint smile.

So thin.

After both of them had finished showering, the unfamiliar tension in the room had eased slightly. Wu Heng leaned against the headboard, working on tomorrow’s schedule.

“You really don’t like group activities,” Xie Chongyi said. He was also leaning against the headboard, scrolling on his phone, but clearly trying to start a conversation with Wu Heng.

“Is the class monitor trying to say I don’t fit in?” Wu Heng asked without looking up.

“You’re also very good at assigning blame to people.”

Wu Heng’s fingers stiffened slightly. He turned his head to look at Xie Chongyi. His hair wasn’t completely dry yet, damp strands falling near his eyes. His black-and-white gaze, washed clean by water, made him look like a young beast—innocent, dangerous, and strangely calm all at once.

“I don’t,” he replied weakly.

“Then let’s eat together tomorrow,” Xie Chongyi said, lifting his phone. Wu Heng’s eyesight was good enough to clearly see what was on the screen: a roast duck restaurant.

Wu Heng had just opened his mouth to refuse when Xie Chongyi cut in first.

“Just the two of us.”

The resistance in Wu Heng’s eyes turned into confusion. “Class Monitor, are we friends?”

Xie Chongyi looked at him with a gaze filled with interest. “We can be.”

Wu Heng didn’t speak again. After a long while, he softly let out a “mm,” because he didn’t truly resist the other person’s approach. After all, there were very few faces he could actually remember.

Another reason was that he had once had two encounters with two men who resembled him and the class monitor. One time was at school, and the other was at home. Both times, they had been together as companions. Although he only trusted his present self absolutely, the choices of another “self” could still be used as reference.

—

Their group leader teacher was knowledgeable and well-read; there was no need for one-on-one explanations, as he could clearly explain the origins and stories behind many of the museum’s artifacts. Xie Chongyi even knew, with his eyes closed, where several of the most popular exhibits were placed. He couldn’t listen anymore, so he made an excuse and left early, telling Wu Heng to follow him quickly.

This time, Wu Heng did not slip away on his own. He first informed Lin Mengzhi, but Lin Mengzhi’s brain was currently being flooded with knowledge and didn’t register what he said.

“Teacher, I’ll go take a look around elsewhere first.” Wu Heng reported to the teacher as well, then similarly ran off with his backpack.

In the crowded square, Xie Chongyi spotted Wu Heng as he came looking for him.

He called out to him from behind.

“You’re not from Han Province, are you? Are you from the capital?”

Wu Heng’s sensitivity was almost uncanny.

No matter how naturally someone behaved in a strange city, the cultural imprint of their hometown still made them look slightly out of place. Yet Xie Chongyi had none of that at all.

As expected.

“My parents work in the capital. I studied there until high school,” Xie Chongyi said as he led Wu Heng onto a bus. “It’s more convenient than the subway.”

Wu Heng sat down in the last row, and when Xie Chongyi sat beside him, he casually asked, “You seem to like the capital quite a bit.”

Wu Heng looked at the white blossoms scattered across the sidewalk and lifted his gaze.

“What kind of trees are those?”

“Locust trees.”

“Oh.”

Wu Heng wasn’t very good at lying, but Xie Chongyi was highly adept at reading people’s thoughts, so all he could do was change the subject.

More than an hour later, Xie Chongyi got off the bus with Wu Heng. The wind at the turn of spring and summer still carried a faint chill. Far away from the crowded streets, Xie Chongyi led Wu Heng into a narrow alley and suddenly ran into a small convenience store, coming out with two candied hawthorns. He handed one to Wu Heng.

“I don’t like sweet things,” Wu Heng said without taking it.

“It’s not sweet. You can try it.”

“You’re very familiar with this place.”

“I used to walk this route after school.”

Wu Heng looked at him with some doubt, then lowered his head and carefully bit one of the hawthorns. The sugar coating was thin and crisp—it crackled when he bit into it, then quickly melted in his mouth, balancing out the natural tartness of the hawthorn.

It tasted better than any candied hawthorn he had ever had before. Wu Heng looked at Xie Chongyi again with a slightly surprised expression and, with one cheek puffed up, said it was good.

“The owner only makes hawthorn ones. She sells them together with the convenience store goods. She still uses the old-fashioned method, so it definitely tastes better than those flashy ones outside.”

The roast duck restaurant Xie Chongyi brought him to was also hidden in the alley. It had a three-section entrance corridor, and each courtyard was planted with neatly arranged greenery. After passing through the final gate, they almost bumped into a woman wearing a floral apron.

She froze for a moment, then suddenly exclaimed, “Oh my!”

“When did you come back?” she asked Xie Chongyi happily, then leaned forward and asked, “Is this your friend?”

Friend? Wu Heng didn’t think their relationship was that close yet.

But Xie Chongyi very naturally pulled the boy to his side and smiled as he introduced him.

“This is Wu Heng.”

Then he turned to Wu Heng and said, “I stayed here for a while when I was younger. You can call her Aunt Lou like I do. This restaurant is hers.”

Aunt Lou happily led them to an unreserved private room. She didn’t even ask much—she had already decided the menu in her mind. Still, she asked at the end, “Wu Heng, do you have any dietary restrictions?”

Wu Heng was silent for a few seconds, then shook his head.

It was the first time someone had asked him that.

Since they weren’t familiar with each other yet, there wasn’t much to say. One of them looked at his phone while the other looked out the window, until the waiter began bringing dish after dish to the table.

The first to arrive was two bowls of duck carcass soup, with ginseng roots and goji berries inside. Not having to share a single bowl with others made Wu Heng quietly feel relieved.

After the soup came roast duck skin placed on slices of dry bread and apple. It was cut into small, bite-sized cubes—savory, sweet, and crispy—with a few grains of white sugar sprinkled on top to cut the richness.

Across from him, Xie Chongyi started eating. He first took a lotus-leaf pancake, layered it with cucumber sticks, scallion strips, and hawthorn strips in order, then wrapped it up, dipped it in sweet bean sauce with a bit of sugar. Instead of eating it himself, he directly held it out to feed Wu Heng.

Wu Heng froze and leaned back. “I’ll do it myself.”

But Xie Chongyi kept it there, moving forward slightly. In the end, Wu Heng had no choice but to open his mouth and bite it. Only then did Xie Chongyi give up.

It was a large roll; Wu Heng took a long time to finish it. A faint sheen of oil remained on his lips, making him look a little less withdrawn than before.

“I used to come here a lot, so don’t worry about me,” Xie Chongyi said. He didn’t eat much himself, just picking up snacks with his fingers and eating casually.

Wu Heng didn’t speak for a long time, simply eating quite a lot on his own. He wasn’t picky, but he hadn’t lost the ability to judge taste, so he only nodded in response to Xie Chongyi every so often.

“You don’t seem to like anyone in your class, and you don’t seem to like the world either.”

“Is it because your family is bad?”

To Wu Heng, Xie Chongyi was someone who had grown up in a life of comfort and privilege. For comments like this, he simply let them go in one ear and out the other.

Xie Chongyi suddenly felt, for the first time, that he was being overly eager. He had never done something like this before. Perhaps it was because Wu Heng suited his taste—like a white corn snake he had once raised. Quiet, but with a temperament that was clearly anything but docile at a glance.

Wu Heng’s appetite was unusually large—larger, in any case, than Xie Chongyi’s, even though they were both in adolescence. By the time he was full, the table had been cleared of dishes. Only then, with his mind briefly going blank, did he ask the question in his heart.

“Why me?”

“What?” Xie Chongyi didn’t understand.

“Why…” Wu Heng lowered his eyes. His eyelashes were very long. “Do you want to be friends with me?”

He had no friends. Lin Mengzhi was someone who had existed since his earliest memories—more like family to him. He didn’t even know how people were supposed to interact with friends.

“I like you,” Xie Chongyi said, resting his hands neatly stacked on the table, his posture obedient-looking, though his expression carried an unusually strong sense of intrusion. “I like you.”

Wu Heng froze completely. His mind seemed to crash for a long time.

“But don’t misunderstand,” Xie Chongyi added gently, noticing his shock. “It’s not a confession. It’s just the kind of liking between friends.”

This was the first time he had ever actively tried to make a friend. If the other person refused, he felt he might go to any lengths, by any means necessary, to change that outcome.

<< _ >>

The post Eaten Ch.230 first appeared on A Wandering Potato.