Chapter 50: Mutant Plants

Another dream.

In the empty and desolate basketball court, there was not a soul around. The basketball brushed past the rim and missed once more. Qu Yan bent down to pick up the ball and repeated the previous action—shooting, picking it up.

Sweat trickled down his temples. In truth, he didn't care for sports, especially team sports like basketball, which felt as though they were silently mocking his reclusive nature.

Practicing jump shots all by himself was somewhat pathetic. With a dull thud, the basketball dropped through the hoop, and the corners of Qu Yan's mouth lifted almost imperceptibly.

This time, he ignored the basketball rolling away with a low rumble and instead raised his head to look toward the shadows behind a tree. Someone was standing there, with only the corner of a blue and white school uniform exposed. Perhaps his sudden glance was too abrupt, as the person behind the tree abruptly took a step back, swayed slightly, and then fled in panic.

The fraying hem of the uniform fluttered twice in the air—quite comical, yet enough to prove that this person was the same one from yesterday, the day before, and even three days prior.

A persistent stalker, Qu Yan judged inwardly.

The dreamscape shifted, and this time the location was the cafeteria.

Noisy and stifling, the aroma of food blended with the sounds of commotion not far away. Once again, Qu Yan felt the gaze of that stalker—persistent and covert.

He put down his chopsticks and scanned his surroundings. High school students going through puberty all looked the same; was that stalker male or female? Tall or short? Did they wear glasses? Until his meal grew cold, Qu Yan still had no answer.

His life had undergone subtle changes due to the presence of this stalker. His shots were becoming increasingly accurate, and the alley without streetlights no longer felt so terrifying. Only his curiosity continued to grow, leaving Qu Yan staring blankly at his exercise books countless times.

Not long after, in the dark corridor, a beam of light shone over, and the boy's voice was clear and bright: "It's me. I'm Yan Zhuo—Yan as in the swallow, and Zhuo as in burning with brilliant light."

Qu Yan lowered his gaze and saw that a tear had formed on the corner of the boy's school uniform, with blue threads swaying back and forth in a very familiar shape.

He thought to himself that Yan Zhuo really was a careless stalker.

...

The dream drew to a close, and Qu Yan woke up, awakened by the heat.

His back pressed against a solid, warm chest, and Yan Zhuo's breath blew against the skin of his neck left exposed by his pajamas. In the dark, no sound could hide, and Qu Yan could feel Yan Zhuo's steady, powerful heartbeat maintaining the exact same rhythm as his own.

In a daze, there was an illusion that they had already melted into one.

At the slightest movement, the arm around his waist tightened unconsciously, and Qu Yan called out softly: "Yan Zhuo."

The candle placed at the head of the bed was quickly lit, and Yan Zhuo's upper body emerged from under the quilt.

Only then did Qu Yan snap back to his senses; waking someone up just because of a dream was hardly a sensible response.

Qu Yan remained silent, and Yan Zhuo guessed, "Did you have a nightmare?"

It wasn't a nightmare. Qu Yan quieted down, suddenly catching a whiff of a certain scent—a sweet fragrance, reminiscent of a certain kind of flower. As he flared his nostrils slightly, the smell of blood hit him as well.

"You're injured?" His expression shifted slightly, and he pulled on Yan Zhuo's arm to check his body.

Over the past few days, Yan Zhuo had been leaving early and returning late, often coming back only after he had already fallen asleep. Recently, life had been far too leisurely, and it hadn't even occurred to him that given Yan Zhuo's current standing in Shuangcheng, he wouldn't need to be this busy unless an accident had occurred.

There were no wounds on his abdomen or chest, yet Qu Yan's expression did not soften at all. "Turn around."

His face was taut, as if he were angry. The corners of Yan Zhuo's eyes curved slightly, and he grasped Qu Yan's hand in return. "I'm fine."

His tone paused slightly as he explained, "I dealt with a mutated plant today and only sustained a minor injury."

Qu Yan had no time to care about whatever mutated plant he was talking about and still insisted firmly, "Turn around and let me see."

In the end, Yan Zhuo turned around slowly, exposing his back to Qu Yan. The second before his shirt was lifted, he was still insisting on his own accord, "It really is just a small scratch."

The thin sweater had traces of dampness, and the floral and bloody scents emanated from right there. Qu Yan lowered his eyes and pulled Yan Zhuo's top up to his shoulders along his spine.

The bare muscles of his back formed a gorgeous line, his shoulder blades pulled inward toward the center because of his posture, and the wound appeared as a vicious, radiating shape extending from the back of his neck all the way to his waist.

The bloody mess he had imagined did not appear before his eyes, but Qu Yan's brows knitted together instead. A deep blue, viscous liquid covered the wound, shimmering with an eerie luster under the dim candlelight as if it were still flowing slowly. The sweet, cloying fragrance grew heavier, and just as Qu Yan lowered his head to take a sniff, his chin was caught.

"Don't get close." Yan Zhuo pulled the clothes down with one hand. "This liquid is highly corrosive to the skin."

Qu Yan's eyes pressed down. "Then you..."

Yan Zhuo rubbed Qu Yan's chin. "The pain was only momentary; I can't feel anything at all now. Besides, my body is different from ordinary people's; it will recover quickly."

Qu Yan stared at him, and only after confirming that he wasn't lying did he shift his focus. Leaning back slightly, he asked, "What is this about the mutated plant you mentioned?"

Yan Zhuo didn't conceal it, summarizing briefly, "Five days ago, an ability user squad discovered a strange plant while out on a mission—a gigantic white flower with a bizarre fragrance."

A gigantic flower blooming in the middle of winter. Qu Yan wore a thoughtful look. "Those ability users were injured too?"

"No." Yan Zhuo shook his head, his voice still low. "They died."

Ability users—humans whose physical functions had been optimized and who possessed supernatural powers, hailed as the darlings of the world after the apocalypse—had died just because of a flower. Moreover, it wasn't just one person who died, but an entire squad. Anyone who heard this would be shocked.

"Their flesh and blood were corroded, and then they became nutrients for the giant flower. When they were found, only clothes stained with blue liquid and shattered skull fragments were left," Yan Zhuo finished in one breath.

It seemed this was the reason Yan Zhuo had been leaving early and returning late these past few days. Qu Yan still had his hand resting on Yan Zhuo's waist. He raised his chin and asked, "Who all knows about this?"

Yan Zhuo replied without hesitation, "Wen Xi and Qin Ji."

If the appearance of just a single mutated plant resulted in the loss of an entire ability user squad, chaos would ensue across the various bases if more mutated plants appeared. Qu Yan thought rationally before probing Yan Zhuo, "I want to return to Yuanshan."

The two locked eyes, and Qu Yan repeated, "Yan Zhuo, I am going back to Yuanshan."

"No!"

Two voices sounded simultaneously. A fierce, gloomy shadow suddenly surfaced between Yan Zhuo's brows before he deliberately suppressed it. He softened his tone and said, "A-Yan promised himself that he wouldn't leave again."

His eyes were filled with paranoia, yet his pupils, reflecting the candlelight, remained warm. Qu Yan suddenly realized that every night since his return, Yan Zhuo had been illuminating the room with candles. Even though electricity had been restored long ago, Yan Zhuo had not turned on the lights even once.

In that moment of distraction, just like the previous few nights, he fell once again into Yan Zhuo's embrace, their chests pressed tightly together.

Yan Zhuo rested his chin in the crook of Qu Yan's neck. "I lied just now. The wound actually hurts a lot."

His voice dropped lower. "A-Yan, it hurts so much."

Though he spoke of pain as if begging for pity, the arm around Qu Yan's waist tightened further and further. In a place Qu Yan could not see, this person uttering pitiful words wore a blank expression and silently bared his fangs.

He was a liar too, lying to Qu Yan by saying he could forget being abandoned two years ago. In truth, not only could he not forget, but he remembered every single detail with absolute clarity. That was why every night he lit a single candle, kissing Qu Yan in the flickering candlelight as if nothing had ever happened, while his ambition to exclusively possess this person swelled day by day.