Famine 193: Contamination

“……”

Bian Xu was trembling, his breath hot and ragged, like burning coals.

He wanted to bite his lip again, but Si Zhiyan’s fingertips remained pressed lightly to his lips, cool and soft, the pad of his finger resting against his canine tooth.

Between lips and tongue flowed the sweet, intoxicating scent belonging to his teacher—so potent it felt as if his heart would burst into flames.

——

But Bian Xu couldn’t say a word.

Cold sweat soaked the hair across his forehead; his fangs trembled and shifted reluctantly aside.

He was taut as a drawn bowstring, holding himself back through sheer will.

“……”

Si Zhiyan fixed him with a dark, inscrutable gaze, then gave a quiet laugh.

“Don’t you think it’s strange?”

“Tonight, in He Ming’s domain… Her mental contamination was despair, depression, all kinds of emotional vortices… I just brushed against it, and I could barely breathe.”

“But the first to be infected—was you.”

“Yet you didn’t notice at all. Only when I saw your changes did I realize it.”

Si Zhiyan tilted his head slightly.

“There’s only one explanation, Bian Xu.”

Bian Xu’s shoulders twitched, his eyes begging, as if pleading for Si Zhiyan to stop.

But he never had any way to refuse his teacher, and could only listen as Si Zhiyan pronounced the verdict, voice almost cruel in its clarity, each word enunciated:

“—You’ve always lived in this emotional vortex.”

“You’re in as much pain as He Ming.”

Just as much pain, just as close to collapse, just as lost in trying to find your place.

Si Zhiyan recalled that rain-soaked night from the dream.

Bian Xu’s blood pooled in the street, reflecting city neon—ten thousand lights like stars, yet not a single one for him.
The traffic rushed by, crowds screaming, not a soul among them he knew.

Bian Xu had no family; those who raised him were gone.

Just as, after his rebirth, he had no courage to reconnect with old friends.
This person, who seemed as radiant as the sun and could talk with anyone, was in fact deeply, desperately lonely.

That night, lying in the puddle, looking up at the sky, realizing his life was ending—what had he thought in that instant?

In that final moment… what had he wished for?

Si Zhiyan stared into Bian Xu’s golden eyes.

Bian Xu had been gravely wounded saving someone.

If not for the [Fallen Star Project], he’d be long dead.

Back then, he was just a freshly graduated, perfectly ordinary high schooler…
He stood up like a hero, confronting an armed criminal, protecting a stranger.

Did he never consider what might happen to him?

Their tangled bodies radiated heat, but Si Zhiyan’s own heart had twisted tight; he had to force himself to take several deep breaths before he could continue.

Si Zhiyan leaned down.

His slender fingers grabbed Bian Xu’s collar; black hair fell, cool and damp, brushing against Bian Xu’s neck.

An aggressively close distance.

So close… Bian Xu grasped the sheets, mind spinning.

Si Zhiyan asked, “That night, what did you wish for?”

“When you were still an ordinary person, lying in your own blood, believing yourself about to die.”

“I…”

Bian Xu’s voice was already so hoarse, it was almost unrecognizable.

He seemed to be fleeing from the question, unable to stop trembling, wanting to curl in on himself.

But Si Zhiyan’s body pinned him down by his lower abdomen. His teacher held him here, inescapably close, no way to run.

He couldn’t avoid it.

……

Slowly, Bian Xu lifted his hand. His fingertips were burning hot as he laid them at Si Zhiyan’s waist.

Soft, cool, familiar scent… his teacher.

His blue-green eyes were bright red.

At this unbearably intimate distance, he fixed his gaze on Si Zhiyan’s crimson eyes, parted his trembling lips as if tearing himself apart, and slowly let the words out:

“I wanted… to be someone special to someone.”

“…Please… look at me.”

……

No matter how you looked at it, Bian Xu was a [good person].

Children at the orphanage came and went; each time one left, Grandpa would weep and send him off with a blessing.

Bian Xu was Grandpa’s favorite.

Once, a wealthy foreign couple visited the orphanage. Moved with sympathy, they chose the only beautiful, clever, healthy little boy out of a group of disabled children.

But the boy smiled and shook his head.

Among all the children coming and going, one child steadfastly chose to stay, holding onto Grandpa’s hand.

That was Bian Xu.

He always wore a bright smile, helping everyone he met.

He always offered kindness to the world, always wished for everyone’s happiness.

[He’s a very good person.]
That was how he proved his own existence, the way he formed bonds with others.

But the truth was that everyone—everyone—

The American couple who thought of adopting him, had children of their own; the little girl he saved, after calling the police, frantically phoned her mother as her very first reaction; as for those he called brothers—yet, beyond doubt, the one he loved most was that—

Day after day, Bian Xu greeted everyone with a warm, cheerful smile, chatting with all who crossed his path.

At dusk, he stood smiling with his hands behind his back, watching everyone leave.

The sun went down. Everyone went home.

Everyone had someone more important to them.

That was a truth he could never change.

……

So where was his own home?

On endless nights, Bian Xu curled up on himself, face buried in his knees, saying nothing.

When his life reached its end, he thought he’d have loftier wishes.

But at that final moment, his mind was a blank.

He just wanted to be remembered.

Such a selfish wish.

He didn’t want anyone to see him break, yet hoped someone would truly see him; after a lifetime of being a supposed “good person,” his final wish was twisted, shattered, selfish, and lowly.

He wanted to be special to someone.

Please look at me. Look at this broken, confused, imperfect self.

It was nothing but a hopeless struggle.

——But,
at that very moment, a miracle happened.

A gaze fell on him.

And at that moment, Bian Xu, shuddering, looking up with wide eyes, knew with all certainty… that gaze—really, truly—was directed at him alone.

Out of 5.4 billion humans, it had chosen him—precisely, unwaveringly.

……

Bian Xu’s second life began with meeting his teacher.

He didn’t mind being experimented on or being cursed by Nidhogg…

Even when he became the farm’s core—amid the full moon’s bloody mist, Bian Xu looked up at the teacher’s silhouette, hands clasped.

Behind Si Zhiyan’s back, where he couldn’t see, Bian Xu’s lips cracked and bled, shuddering in a twisted, spasmodic smile:

Now… am I the one closest to you, sir?

——Can you look only at me?

Just me, that would be enough.

That was the dark, muddy craving he could never admit out loud.

As time wore on, vines—distorted, fierce—coiled tighter and tighter around Si Zhiyan’s body and neck, tightening again and again, full of malice and possessiveness.

If they went a step too far, they’d devour Si Zhiyan completely.

That was a world apart from Bian Xu’s radiant, gentle smile.

But the vines were part of him.

Always had been. Whether or not there was a curse or a system, that’s just the kind of person he was.

This path alone posed no problem; Bian Xu would just work harder to control himself, hide those ugly parts, and keep smiling with his teacher.

But then—the Main God attacked.

His teacher stroked his cheek, smiling, and said:

Eat me.

He devoured his teacher.

From the first bite of sweet flesh, Bian Xu realized in despair that there was no turning back.

His teacher was the best man in the entire world.

He deserved everything good, everything to be cherished.

But Bian Xu could only answer him like this.

The saddest part was, as he ate, he still… felt joy.

His teacher really tasted wonderful. When he smiled, when he stroked Bian Xu, when he grimaced at the pain, the flesh was tender, the bones elegant, and if there was too much pain, veins would stand out just slightly on the back of the hand, and Bian Xu would know to be gentler.

Bit by bit, he devoured his teacher.

On countless nights after feeding, Bian Xu was so disgusted with himself he nearly vomited.

He curled up in misery, his vines binding his belly, wishing he could force it all out, or better yet kill himself—though, of course, that never worked.

Bian Xu longed to retreat into that darkness again—to the very core, to be in pain or despair, to at least be able to speak to his teacher now and then, to keep working for him. He could accept anything.

But he couldn’t go back.

The farm’s core had matured and no longer needed him.

Yet he lived on.

And had to wait another eight hours before he could eat again.

……

My teacher has seen through me, Bian Xu thought.

His mind was a blank, barely daring to meet Si Zhiyan’s eyes.

The truly pathetic thing was, even now, his teacher’s scent, his teacher’s blood, kept invading his very flesh and organs, making him tremble.

Like someone starved for ages, with the world’s tastiest meal pressed to his lips, hearing words threatening to tear him apart, yet also whispering seduction:

Take a bite. Just one bite.

He wanted it so badly.

He still wanted it, so badly.

The frenzy was close to melting him; his organs liquefied, shrinking down into a ball of kitchen refuse.

“…I’m sorry…”

Bian Xu, as if possessed, shuddered, his fingers clenching tighter and tighter, slowly circling Si Zhiyan’s narrow waist.

His legs drew up as well, knees pressing through the bathrobe against Si Zhiyan’s spine, pinning Si Zhiyan above him, leaving him unable to move.

Despite the passion in his body, Bian Xu’s voice was trembling, thick with despair and tears.

With the last of his will, he pleaded softly:

“…Please kill me.”

……

The air fell into suffocating silence.

For a long while, Si Zhiyan let out a long, deep sigh.

“Idiot.”

He released his hand from Bian Xu’s fangs, grabbed his golden hair, bent down, lowering his head.

Bian Xu’s pupils quivered, suddenly contracting.

In the hot, tense air, a cool, gentle touch pressed down on his burning lips.

—It was a kiss.