Famine 194: Consonance

What happened after that night, Si Zhiyan could hardly remember.

Bian Xu was too young, like a wild creature brimming with vitality. His embrace was scorching and warm, calling out Si Zhiyan’s name in confusion and sobs, devouring him bit by bit.

He was feeding—bodies and flesh entwined, souls as well.

Si Zhiyan laughed in the pauses between gasps for air, tilting his head back, his misted eyes staring at the ceiling, arms wrapped around Bian Xu’s golden head, buried at his neck.

After a while, he closed his eyes, letting the tears of relinquished restraint slip from the corners.

When Si Zhiyan stood on the highest point of the farm, facing heaven’s unfathomable majesty and the invincible enemy, it was the thorns wrapped around him that gave him courage.

Only this person could stand with him, shoulder to shoulder.

A gentle warmth brushed his temple.
Bian Xu nuzzled closer, tenderly licking and kissing, eating away his tears.

…………
……

The next morning, when Si Zhiyan woke, Bian Xu was sprawled on the rug by the bed.

The youth had buried his face in his arms, stealthily watching from the bedside, his whole face flaming red, as if he were burning up.

Si Zhiyan lazily rolled over and looked at him. “Good morning.”

“G—good morning…”

Bian Xu, if anything, seemed even more feverish; his face was red to the ears, but he no longer shrank away, wide golden eyes fixed unswervingly on Si Zhiyan, while his vines slid discreetly up from the edge of the bed, twining around Si Zhiyan’s slender ankle.

His lips moved, as if he wanted to say something, but he couldn’t work up the nerve.

Si Zhiyan leisurely stretched, fluffed his soft, clean pillow, and settled comfortably against the headboard… but Bian Xu still didn’t say a word.

By the time he finally composed his thoughts and nervously opened his mouth, Si Zhiyan turned with a smile: “What shall we have for breakfast?”

Bian Xu’s torrent of emotions was cut off midstream, choking in his throat, and he reflexively shrank a little. “…Yangchun noodles.”

“Not bad.” Si Zhiyan smiled, ruffling his hair. “Bring some up, please. Thank you.”

Bian Xu raised his eyes, looked at Si Zhiyan for a while,
then pressed his lips together, nodded fiercely, and scampered away.

Si Zhiyan watched his figure vanish at the door, picked up the hot coffee Bian Xu had readied at the bedside, and sipped the foam with a smile.

His lashes lowered faintly.

……

A while later, Bian Xu returned with a breakfast tray.

He set up a folding table over the bed and placed the tray upon it. On the tray: a bowl of clear noodle soup, a dish of lamb topping, a small plate of garlic vinegar, and a set of wooden chopsticks and a soup spoon.

The plain noodles were extremely fine, perfectly aligned and rolled into a spindle shape—narrow at the ends, wider in the middle—floating in the clear soup: the “carp-back” that marks classic yangchun noodles. The golden broth shone to the bottom, a slight shimmer of floating oil, scattered with green onion.

Bian Xu sat sideways at the bedside, explaining, “Because it’s breakfast, I kept it light; the broth is the Shanghai style, made by simmering bones from cold water, clarified again and again, finished with a little lard, and topped with fresh scallions.”

Si Zhiyan tasted the broth—rich, but not greasy; incomparably delicious.

He couldn’t help but smile. “You were thoughtful.”

He tried the lamb topping—the slices, twenty percent fat to eighty percent lean, cooked with shiitake until slightly sweet, the meat flavor intense. It must have been made last night, halfway between a fresh dish and a preserved one, bursting with flavor and perfect for the noodles.
Dipped in garlic vinegar, he quickly finished it all.

Si Zhiyan was hungry—after eating the lamb, he finished the noodles and drank the last of the sweet broth, nearly licking the bowl, barely keeping his restraint.

Wiping his mouth, he sighed, “Truly excellent. If there’s any shortcoming, it’s the mushrooms and lamb. Big cuts of beef or lamb would be even better; sliced lamb rolls from the hotpot are tender but a bit lacking in texture.”

“Unfortunately, the farm still doesn’t produce real beef or mutton. Tried a few cursed tales, but none yielded the right crops.”

Bian Xu seemed both relieved and a little wistful, but in the end, he smiled and nodded. “…Then I’ll keep an eye out for opportunities!”

Si Zhiyan smiled and patted his cheek.

His thumb slid along the young man’s burning ear, which at once turned a shade redder.

“Come on,” Si Zhiyan said with a laugh as he got dressed, “let’s go check on today’s job site.”

…………
……

Si Zhiyan wasn’t oblivious.

He’d seen at once that Bian Xu wanted closure over the previous night’s kiss.

The golden-haired youth had probably spent the whole night lying by his bed, face burning. What is our relationship now? How do you see me?—all those questions, or maybe even something more direct.

A bit of anticipation, a bit of eagerness, and even more nerves. He rehearsed and erased his words over and over.

But at the very moment, he failed to speak; Si Zhiyan had easily deflected him.

Since the step couldn’t be taken—

Perhaps it was better left unsaid—

Now, as he buttoned his cufflinks in silence, he thought.

Si Zhiyan had a very, very important question that he needed—

And had to—ask.

Without the answer, he couldn’t dare make promises to Bian Xu.

……

Si Zhiyan’s [Return Home Project] was progressing swiftly.

He Ming was only the beginning. With her, one new tale after another awoke, new abominations collapsed.

The city was full of transients—never short on desperation.

Failures regretted in dormitory corners, successes crushed beneath heavy mortgages; everyone had their own ending.

This was still a world of monstrous stories, of endless, looping shards of time. Here, in these crushing, narrow spaces, people doomed to ruin followed their fated ends, one after another.

Only this time, at the end of the road, someone waited for them.

Si Zhiyan smiled, hands clasped behind his back.

He mainly let property to businesses and shops, collecting rent and shares.

With the rent and shares, he made down payments and paid off mortgages, buying apartments in high-rises.

Each apartment, in turn, could be split into several farm apartments.

Many people like Gu Ying had found new opportunities, paying rent to Si Zhiyan, and new shops thrived in rapid succession.

Now the third floor of the apartment building had become a large business center, and soon the second floor too. Clients from other units appeared one after another, the network spreading outward…

The business grew larger, the apartments multiplied, one abomination after another was saved, successively resonating and shedding black hole crystals in a clatter.

Only the King of Black Holes never left Bian Xu.

That very first crystal seemed to have begun some odd revolutionary friendship with Bian Xu… It never resonated with any abomination, only lay on Bian Xu’s shoulder day after day, bouncing away.

Sometimes nestled up to the Frosthorn Rabbit to nap.

The fluffy blue-and-white rabbit curled with it, tiny crystal on its head.

Every so often, the crystal would roll off by accident, landing with a plop.

The sight was rather amusing, and now and then gave Si Zhiyan and Bian Xu cause to laugh.

Aunt Zhou came to visit several times. Whenever she did, the King of Black Holes always pretended to be a real, ordinary crystal, calmly perched on Bian Xu’s shoulder.

Aunt Zhou usually gave it a second look. “That’s an interesting crystal you’ve got there. It’s so big—always wear it on your shoulder?”

Bian Xu would smile. “It looks good.”

Aunt Zhou shook her head, laughing about “kids and their fashion sense,” or “just drill a hole and make a necklace,” as she walked off in her stately strides.

Now, with more space, people quarreled less, tempers cooled. Aunt Zhou, noticeably less busy, could at last walk about the building and visit others, instead of fielding four calls at a time.

As he watched her go, Si Zhiyan felt sure she knew everything.

But she turned a blind eye.

Ding-dong.

At last, the 500th black hole crystal, resonated and complete, fell to the floor.

At that instant, all the crystals began to vibrate.

Same frequency, same song: crowds of tiny black crystals poured from the Frosthorn Rabbit’s space, spinning, swirling, bouncing through the corridors.

People gazed at them in amazement, not a soul considered harming them.

Behind every crystal was a happy person.

They were cold and sparkling, jostling one another, leaping about like animals or like a force of nature, streaming down the halls like a river and gathering in the first-floor lobby of the dense apartment into a giant black hole vortex.

Whummm!

[Consonance] had been triggered.

The King of Black Holes bounced from Bian Xu’s shoulder and jumped into the vortex, pawing about before squeezing back out with something in tow.

Balanced on the little black ball’s head was a… pale green clump.

It looked as though many, many people were packed tightly together, crowded into a corner, stacked atop each other.

But every face was peaceful, serene—not twisted in pain, but full of hope for a better life.

Things are hard now, but the days ahead will get better.

[Seed of Famine (Embryo) – Apartment of the Untethered Dead], had come into the world.

Bian Xu greeted it with a bright smile, tapping fingertips to the King of Black Holes’ head with a crisp “pop.”

Laughing, he turned his head:

“We’ve finally got it…”

As he spoke, his voice faltered.

Si Zhiyan stood where he was, and at arm’s length beside him stood a middle-aged woman.

Long hair pulled back, glasses, dressed in a washed-out, slightly worn, oversized suit.

Aunt Zhou, the agent.

Neither Si Zhiyan nor Bian Xu had noticed when she arrived.

“So, this was your aim all along.”
Aunt Zhou smiled, hands behind her back.
“This thing is the core here… Haha, it’s been so long, I almost didn’t recognize it. Last time I was here, it wasn’t like this at all.”

“Now, it’s full of so many new scents—all yours.”

Si Zhiyan’s expression stayed calm. He beckoned Bian Xu over and took the famine seed embryo from him.

He tilted his head. “You’re just going to let us take this?”

“Take it.” Aunt Zhou sighed, bowing her head, a touch weary. “Nothing good ever comes of meddling too much.”

Si Zhiyan studied her for a moment. “Aren’t you worried we’ll affect the agency’s business, or the lives of people here?”

Aunt Zhou smiled. “What’s there to worry about? Where else could they go but here?”

Bian Xu finally couldn’t hold back, and asked bluntly, “Who… are you, really?”