The Differentiated Desire

“Yes. I just lack strength, and nothing hurts,” Yuan Anqing said, speaking to someone from the official medical team over his phone. “Oh, and one more thing—I don’t know if I’m overthinking it, but Zhuo seems a bit… resentful.”

The person on the other end of the line thought they had misheard. “Resentful?”

“That’s right.” Yuan Anqing glanced toward Zhuo.

Yuan Anqing was seated at the dining table, while Zhuo occupied the sofa. Zhuo appeared to be trying to make himself look smaller by curling up, yet despite his best efforts, his formidable, two-meter size remained unchanged.

Zhuo’s mournful, pitiful gaze was impossible to conceal.

After meeting Zhuo’s eyes, Yuan Anqing added into the phone, “It’s like he’s a maiden who has been wronged by some heartless scoundrel.” This description wasn’t entirely fitting for a world-ending chimera, but it was the most accurate way Yuan Anqing could articulate the vibe.

“Mournful?!” The person on the other end of the phone was clearly startled. After a moment of silence, the voice inquired cautiously, “Could it be… a differentiation?”

“Differentiation?” Yuan Anqing recalled that humans in this world could undergo differentiation at any time, mutating into subspecies. But could Zhuo, who was already a monster, also differentiate?

“Zhuo, as a child, was an ignorant, chaotic demon king,” the official explained. “He actually didn’t need to eat. He wouldn’t get hungry. His hunger is a result of an early differentiation.”

In his infancy, Zhuo was merely a terrifying, immortal vortex of pure desire. At that time, he had never even drunk milk, as no human could safely approach him. As he grew older, his abilities became somewhat more contained. It was then that his caretakers tried feeding him solid food. Zhuo, finding the act enjoyable, began to differentiate.

He started to eat like a human, and consequently, he began to experience physical hunger like a human. Later, his fondness for observing desires led him to enjoy those lingering, poignant human stories, delighting in how people succumbed to them. His differentiated human form gradually became increasingly handsome as a reflection of that.

These initial differentiations largely shaped Zhuo’s current soul and desires, but they were all completed before he turned five. After that, Zhuo had no further obvious differentiations.

Suggesting that Zhuo was differentiating again was merely a guess by the medical team, given his unusually strong fever and emotional reactions. Speculation was all they could do.

“But what could he possibly differentiate into now?” Yuan Anqing felt a headache brewing.

“More comprehensive human emotions?” the official speculated.

“His emotions are quite comprehensive already,” Yuan Anqing mused, considering Zhuo to be a type rich in dramatic feelings. “How much more comprehensive could they get?”

“I’m not clear on that,” the official admitted. They strongly suspected it might be love or lust, but found it inappropriate to say, as it was a private matter between the Savior and his Watcher.

Yuan Anqing then asked if they could find a way to research it. After receiving an affirmative answer, Yuan Anqing sighed and ended the call.

“How are you feeling now?” Yuan Anqing asked Zhuo.

“Quite good,” Zhuo replied, lowering his head and looking utterly wronged. “I just have no strength. If I remain this weak, the officials will have to replace your bodyguard.”

He imagined he would be forced to leave, re-confined to that small sterile room, while a new, handsome bodyguard would get to share Yuan Anqing’s bed.

“They won’t replace you,” Yuan Anqing said, walking over and reaching out to pat Zhuo’s back reassuringly. “No one is better than you.”

“I have indeed differentiated before,” Zhuo admitted softly, hugging his own thick tail. “But when I differentiated, my emotions were always heightened and excited, never as despondent as they are now.”

“Perhaps this differentiation is rather special.” Yuan Anqing’s patting turned into a gentle caress. “You’ll get better.”

“What if I don’t get better?” Zhuo’s sorrow lingered.

Yuan Anqing found himself at a loss for how to comfort him.

Suddenly, Zhuo seemed to recall something terrifying. His red eyes widened as he looked up at Yuan Anqing. “Yuan Anqing.”

“What is it?”

“I’m not going to die, am I?” The more Zhuo thought about it, the more uneasy he became. He had never felt weak before.

Yuan Anqing slapped Zhuo lightly on the head. “Don’t talk such nonsense.”

Zhuo clutched his head, growing even more miserable. He was about to die, and Yuan Anqing was still hitting him.

As soon as Zhuo felt wronged, he began to shed heavy tears.

Yuan Anqing was truly at his wit’s end. He couldn’t fathom how Zhuo, being so large and fearsome, could cry so readily. Zhuo prided himself on being a “tough guy,” yet he showed no restraint, weeping freely like any ordinary child.

“Don’t cry anymore.” Yuan Anqing pulled several tissues from a box to wipe Zhuo’s tears. “I shouldn’t have hit you. Don’t be sad.”

“It doesn’t matter. It didn’t hurt,” Zhuo mumbled, yet he clutched his large tail tightly to his chest and began to tremble.

Yuan Anqing: “…”

He took a deep breath, his mind feeling incredibly muddled by the sheer absurdity. “Would you like something to eat?” Yuan Anqing asked tentatively.

Zhuo shook his head, then added, “I’m not hungry.”

“Then rest?” Yuan Anqing inquired again.

“I’m not sleepy. I’ll just sit here for a bit; you don’t need to mind me.” Zhuo’s body was still warm with fever, and he felt profoundly weak—a sensation he found uncomfortable but couldn’t shake.

Yuan Anqing sat down beside Zhuo on the sofa. “Do you want to lean against me and lie down for a while?”

Zhuo, still clutching his tail, shifted closer tentatively. “My head feels very heavy, doesn’t it?”

“Your head isn’t heavy.” Yuan Anqing touched Zhuo’s forehead, finding it still burning. Yuan Anqing felt a sudden, intense urge to smoke a cigarette.

He truly didn’t understand why Zhuo had become like this after merely sleeping. He still suspected that the cause of Zhuo’s condition was related to him. “You’ve never completely swallowed someone into your domain and then released them alive, have you?”

“Never.”

“Does this act physically affect you?” Yuan Anqing asked him. “Is it because you let your ‘prey’ go?”

“No!” This time, Zhuo’s voice grew louder. He suddenly stood up, his crystalline horn nearly clipping Yuan Anqing’s chin.

Zhuo stared down at Yuan Anqing, enunciating each word with surprising intensity. “How could you think you’re prey?! Is the relationship between us two so fragile to you?!”

His accusatory tone utterly bewildered Yuan Anqing.

After shouting, Zhuo seemed to have suffered a great emotional blow. He ran to the bedroom to sleep. He covered himself entirely with the quilt, appearing terribly distressed.

Yuan Anqing pressed a hand to his forehead, then opened a food delivery app on his phone, only to find that cigarettes were not available for delivery. He could only search for alcohol, which, thankfully, could be delivered.

What should I do now? Should I ignore Zhuo?

Yuan Anqing looked toward the bedroom door, where a section of Zhuo’s scaled tail lay limp and lifeless on the floor.

Yuan Anqing sighed, then got up and walked into the room. “Zhuo, do you want to rest now?”

“I can’t sleep either,” Zhuo’s muffled voice replied from under the quilt.

Yuan Anqing pulled back Zhuo’s blanket, intending to help him up. He tugged twice, but Zhuo wouldn’t budge. “Zhuo, can you please cooperate?”

Zhuo slowly sat up, yielding to Yuan Anqing’s gentle pull.

Yuan Anqing cupped Zhuo’s flushed face. “I know you’re feeling unwell right now, and your emotions are out of control. But we have to find a solution, don’t we?”

“No one will care,” Zhuo murmured, lowering his gaze.

“Don’t deny my feelings, Zhuo.” Yuan Anqing lifted Zhuo’s chin, forcing the monster to meet his gaze. “You are my first and only friend here. You’re not something that can be replaced. Understand?”

“I wouldn’t worry about anyone else but you,” Yuan Anqing continued. He didn’t have the energy to waste on useless matters. “We’ll figure out the problem slowly; just don’t resist me.”

Zhuo pursed his lips, then gently pulled away Yuan Anqing’s hands and leaned his heavy head against Yuan Anqing’s chest. “Yuan Anqing… I feel terrible.”

“What’s on your mind right now?” Yuan Anqing asked, holding Zhuo close.

Zhuo took a deep, shuddering breath. “Do you think I still have a chance to get a master’s degree?”

Yuan Anqing: “…”

Had this always been a knot in Zhuo’s heart?!

Despite the sheer absurdity of the question, Yuan Anqing patiently offered comfort. “A master’s degree only proves academic endurance, nothing else. Speaking of studies, isn’t there a doctorate above a master’s?”

“That’s not what I truly desire. I’ve never truly known what I want,” Yuan Anqing sighed, sharing his own truth. “I merely drift along, competing with others, getting caught in the corporate rat race. Winning doesn’t make me happy, and losing certainly doesn’t feel easy.”

“I live a twisted, exhausted life, Zhuo. Why would you compare yourself to someone who lives so awkwardly?” Yuan Anqing gently lifted Zhuo’s face from his chest. “You are free and unburdened, doing whatever you please. You naturally possess so many things I lack.”

“I’m not free, though,” Zhuo reminded him quietly.

“Neither am I,” Yuan Anqing said, gently stroking Zhuo’s horn. “My soul has no radiance.” As a child, his life was a straight, dull line between the orphanage and school; as an adult, it was between his apartment and the company. He had never diverted his attention to observe his surroundings. He was unable to perceive the beauty of the changing seasons, merely existing in a state of corporate numbness.

“You are free.” Yuan Anqing suddenly thought of something, stating it with conviction. “Even when you were confined to that small sterile room, you were free.”

“Why?” Zhuo didn’t understand.

“Only your body was restricted.” Yuan Anqing pointed to Zhuo’s brow. “Your soul has always been freely experiencing everything.”

“You are healthy. You are beautiful. You are unique.” Yuan Anqing gazed earnestly into Zhuo’s red eyes. “You are free.”

Yuan Anqing had only intended to offer comfort, but as he held Zhuo’s face and scrutinized it, he suddenly realized that Zhuo was indeed perfect—at least to Yuan Anqing, Zhuo was almost excessively perfect.

“You’re trying to coax me,” Zhuo said softly. “I can tell.”

“You’re wrong this time.” Yuan Anqing did not, as usual, default to his dry, ‘I am indeed coaxing you’ response.

“I’m not free at all. You’re the only one who genuinely talks to me.” Zhuo found Yuan Anqing’s praise overly exaggerated. He wasn’t perfect; he was quite bad.

“I was thinking…” Yuan Anqing’s eyes seemed to flash with a faint golden light. “If I had met you earlier, perhaps I would have actually been motivated to go to work.”

“Eh?” This time, Zhuo was truly stunned.

“Your food expenses are quite high, and you like to wander around; raising you would definitely cost a lot of money,” Yuan Anqing said thoughtfully.

Zhuo thought Yuan Anqing was mocking him for eating too much and was about to defensively say he could also get a job, but Yuan Anqing continued, “But as long as you’re home, I’ll see you as soon as I return. It makes the commute worth it.”

Yuan Anqing cherished Zhuo’s radiant personality, believing Zhuo could become a driving force for him—a motivation to face life rather than just endure it.

Zhuo’s eyes widened comically. “You… you want me to be your wife?!”

Yuan Anqing froze. “Uh, my phrasing might have been misleading.” Yet, upon reflection, what others cared about was indeed a spouse, not merely a friend.

“Don’t misunderstand, I don’t have such impure thoughts about you. Our friendship is quite pure.” Yuan Anqing quickly released Zhuo’s face and stepped back.

“Are you hungry? I’ll go heat up the food.” Yuan Anqing had already prepared the meal, but Zhuo’s sudden condition had made him forget to eat.

“Do you want me to help you?” Zhuo started to get up.

Yuan Anqing gently pushed Zhuo back down. “No need. You stay put. I’ll handle it myself.”

Zhuo obediently settled back, re-embracing his tail, and watched Yuan Anqing busy himself with wide eyes.

Yuan Anqing had just said I could be his driving force?

The tip of Zhuo’s tail began to sway excitedly. Zhuo looked up, then quickly reached out to grasp the tail, preventing Yuan Anqing from noticing his emotions.

So Yuan Anqing’s praise of my beauty and perfection was true? Zhuo’s skin began to flush hot.

Was that kind of praise a bit too direct? Am I really that good?

He was a monster, after all. Yuan Anqing’s aesthetic sense must be fundamentally flawed. However, aside from his questionable taste in monsters, Yuan Anqing was good in every other way. He was gentle, easy to talk to, and always so meticulous.

Zhuo hugged his tail, practically curling into a happy ball on the bed.

“Zhuo?” Yuan Anqing noticed Zhuo upon returning. “What’s wrong? Why is your face even redder?”

“I don’t know.” Zhuo touched his cheek; it was indeed alarmingly hot. “I… I’m not eating. I’ll go lie down for a bit.”

“Alright. Do you want an ice pack? I froze one for you.” Yuan Anqing still felt a little uneasy.

“No, no, no! No need!” Zhuo quickly scrambled under the covers, stumbling midway, which startled Yuan Anqing.

Zhuo got into bed, wrapped his arms around his tail, and closed his eyes tightly. Yuan Anqing came over to check, confirming that Zhuo wasn’t uncomfortable anywhere else before leaving him to rest.

Not long after closing his eyes, Zhuo fell asleep.

He knew very clearly that he was dreaming. He dreamt of himself idly confined in the sterile room where he used to be kept by the government. The people responsible for his daily life only dared to speak to him from outside, through synthetic glass.

They feared him. The Director never knew when Zhuo might seize their weakness; Zhuo was dangerous. Zhuo enjoyed this game because he reveled in twisting people’s desires.

Yet, sitting there again in the dream, Zhuo found it utterly boring.

Those human desires were nothing more than love, money, or power, yielding no fresh novelty no matter how much he searched. Finding amusement in such a place was far less comfortable and free than napping on the couch with Yuan Anqing.

Yuan Anqing, ah.

As the thought arose, the dream surroundings shifted instantly.

The dull little cell transformed into their small apartment balcony. A gentle evening breeze rustled, and Yuan Anqing sat there in his chair, drinking wine.

Zhuo walked to Yuan Anqing’s side, then plopped down on the floor, resting his heavy head on Yuan Anqing’s knees.

Yuan Anqing naturally reached out to stroke his hair, his long fingers threading through Zhuo’s strands. Zhuo narrowed his eyes in bliss.

His tail began to sway, repeatedly tapping the balcony floor.

He heard Yuan Anqing let out a soft sigh.

Are you very tired? Zhuo tilted his head, then reached up and wrapped his arms securely around Yuan Anqing’s waist. “You should rest more.”

Yuan Anqing did not respond.

Zhuo looked up, discovering that Yuan Anqing was also watching him intently.

Hair obscured his dark eyes. Yuan Anqing, when expressionless, only conveyed a sense of cold detachment. Zhuo didn’t know how long Yuan Anqing had been looking at him, nor what the Savior was thinking at that moment.

Love? Or disgust?

Zhuo couldn’t guess; he yearned for a definite answer.

Just a hug? No, they should be more intimate. He had once completely devoured Yuan Anqing in his domain. They could be more intimate.

Zhuo instinctively tilted his head up, licking the corner of Yuan Anqing’s lips with his tongue, as if confirming the taste of his food.

And after confirming its deliciousness, he could take a bite.

Zhuo pressed his lips fully against Yuan Anqing’s.

Suddenly, a loud clap of thunder echoed in the real world, and Zhuo awoke with a violent start, gasping several times before scrambling up and rushing to the bathroom.

Something’s wrong! I’m definitely not right!

Zhuo fell to the bathroom floor. The scales on his tail scraped against the tiles with an extremely harsh sound—a sound that seemed to resonate with Zhuo’s panicked emotions.

Zhuo finally understood what was happening to his biology.

He had never experienced reproductive urges in his entire life.

Wait. This shouldn’t be called a reproductive urge, after all. He and Yuan Anqing couldn’t reproduce.

Zhuo swallowed hard, his entire body flushed red like a cooked shrimp. Yet, he couldn’t care about his body temperature; the physical abnormality in a certain place was the most critical issue right now.

Zhuo looked down, then reached out a trembling hand to touch it.

Okay. It’s definitely not a hallucination.

“Zhuo?” Yuan Anqing knocked on the door from outside. “Are you alright, Zhuo?”

“I… I’m fine! I need to take a shower!” He was not fine at all! He was doomed!

Calm down! Calm down! Zhuo took a deep breath, turned on the shower, and then shouted outside, “I felt uncomfortably hot while sleeping! I’m taking a cold shower!”

Zhuo had a lot of relevant biological information in his mind; he had to calm down, think of a solution, and deal with the immediate physical problem.

Zhuo turned the water to the coldest setting and stepped directly under the freezing spray. He continued to recall the information in his mind, his large hands trembling as he unbuckled his belt.

Yuan Anqing stood guard outside the bathroom door. He felt that Zhuo’s earlier panic was abnormal, and fearing something might happen due to the fever, he dared not stray far.

He waited for a long time; the sound of water still hadn’t stopped, and Zhuo hadn’t come out.

“Zhuo?” Yuan Anqing called out again, softly and tentatively.

“STAY AWAY FROM ME!” Zhuo suddenly roared, as if he had been physically provoked.

Yuan Anqing paused, startled.

Zhuo realized he had been too aggressive and quickly explained anxiously, “I… I didn’t mean it that way! Something’s wrong with me! Don’t come over!”

His voice began to tremble and falter towards the end of his words.

“What exactly is wrong?” Yuan Anqing didn’t quibble about the harsh tone.

“I… I don’t know! No, I know… No, I, I…” Zhuo was utterly incoherent, finally managing to stammer, “I don’t know what to do.”

After speaking, he seemed to plead, “Don’t come in. Let me be alone.” He didn’t want Yuan Anqing to know about this; Yuan Anqing wouldn’t like it.

“Zhuo, you can’t bottle it up. It’s a medical issue,” Yuan Anqing reminded him.

“I know! I’ll solve the problem slowly!” Zhuo’s words were a complete lie.

Yuan Anqing didn’t intend to let Zhuo keep himself locked in there while delirious with fever. He retrieved the master bathroom key and mentally gave Zhuo fifteen minutes.

Fifteen minutes passed, and Zhuo still hadn’t resolved the issue.

Yuan Anqing unhesitatingly used the key to unlock the door. The moment he stepped in, the startled Zhuo accidentally aimed the showerhead at him, drenching him with freezing water.

Yuan Anqing instinctively closed his eyes, fortunate that he wore glasses so the water didn’t directly hit his corneas.

“Yuan… Yuan Anqing.” Zhuo was huddled miserably in the corner, sitting on the wet floor, completely wrapped in his own tail.

Yuan Anqing wiped his face with a hand, then his gaze fell on Zhuo. Upon seeing Zhuo’s fully clothed appearance under the spray, Yuan Anqing subtly raised an eyebrow. “You’re taking a cold shower but not taking off your top? Do you intend to wash your clothes along with yourself?”

Zhuo reacted as if startled by a ghost, his red eyes wide and panicked as he stared at Yuan Anqing.

Yuan Anqing’s clothes were soaked, but he didn’t mind. He simply crouched down to look at Zhuo.

The gentleness he had shown earlier outside was gone, replaced by clinical efficiency. Yuan Anqing reached out, intending to pull Zhuo’s tail away to check for injuries, but Zhuo’s tail was surprisingly strong, clamped tight like a vice.

“There’s no need to bury your head in the sand,” Yuan Anqing said helplessly. “You’re hiding like this; I can already tell what’s wrong.”

Zhuo’s tail finally relaxed its grip, but Zhuo himself began to tremble violently.

Yuan Anqing moved the tail aside, then asked Zhuo point-blank, “Is this because of me?”

Zhuo dared not utter a sound.

However, Yuan Anqing didn’t necessarily need an answer; it was already clear without Zhuo explicitly stating it. “You didn’t dare let me in because of this, right?”

Zhuo nodded minutely.

“I thought you wouldn’t be ashamed by something as basic as this.” Yuan Anqing massaged his forehead; the current situation was indeed a bit beyond his expectations. “I thought you’d boldly run up to me and brag about solving this kind of biological problem earlier than I did.”

Zhuo trembled even more violently, vibrating like a phone on silent mode.

“You can’t solve it. Is it because your specific situation requires my help?”

“Don’t help!” Zhuo finally spoke, his voice cracking. “You… you go back and change your clothes! You’ll catch a cold if you wear wet clothes!” His voice lacked all of its usual demonic confidence.

Yuan Anqing didn’t respond, merely looking at Zhuo calmly.

Seeing Yuan Anqing’s unbothered expression, Zhuo silently curled up a little more. His tail tried to coil back defensively, but Yuan Anqing caught its tip.

“You’re just undergoing a late differentiation.” Yuan Anqing had now confirmed that Zhuo was transforming, acquiring new, human-like physical desires. “This is a normal physiological phenomenon.”

“This… this is a terrible transformation,” Zhuo was almost in tears from the embarrassment. “You shouldn’t be part of this desire.”

“This isn’t terrible. Every adolescent child goes through this; you’re just a little late, and it’s somewhat special due to your species.” Yuan Anqing placed a hand firmly on Zhuo’s shoulder, and Zhuo stiffened completely.

“If you feel uncomfortable, release your aura.” Yuan Anqing remained entirely calm. Zhuo was already frantic enough, so Yuan Anqing had to act as the anchor to help him regain his composure.

Zhuo obediently released his power, and as the aura of desire touched Yuan Anqing, Yuan Anqing’s eyes immediately shifted to molten gold.

“Zhuo. Look at me,” Yuan Anqing commanded softly.

Zhuo raised his head, meeting Yuan Anqing’s glowing gaze.

In that instant, Zhuo was once again pulled into Yuan Anqing’s spiritual world. Countless soft yet beautiful golden lights enveloped him, instantly soothing Zhuo’s frantic panic and granting him a wave of profound, narcotic pleasure.

Zhuo should have been incredibly powerful, and these golden lights should have been fragile, easily shattered by his dominance. Yet, Zhuo couldn’t escape; he couldn’t break free. Perhaps a voice in his heart urged him not to struggle, or perhaps he instinctively knew he shouldn’t damage these golden lights.

Zhuo indulged in this expanse of golden light, overwhelmed by endless bliss. He yearned to remain there forever, in this paradise of enjoyment.

“I’m going to be eaten…” Zhuo murmured, his eyes vacant, clearly trapped in Yuan Anqing’s psychic trance.

His eyes reflected Yuan Anqing’s rational, detached face. Under such a gaze, only Zhuo seemed to be in disarray. And Zhuo’s discomposure was something Yuan Anqing allowed, something he deliberately condoned to ease the monster’s physical frustration.

“I’m going to be eaten,” Zhuo covered his flushed face with his hands.

He should have been the predator, the hunter. Yet, Zhuo felt a layer of primal fear, and beyond that fear, anticipation—an anticipation of complete, willing surrender.

Zhuo’s breathing grew increasingly ragged until, at one point, it abruptly hitched, as if his throat had been constricted.

Of course, Yuan Anqing would never treat him that way physically.

“Alright.” Yuan Anqing got up to wash his hands in the sink. After drying them, he returned to Zhuo’s side, crouched down, and smoothed back Zhuo’s disheveled, wet hair. “How do you feel now?”

“I, I… you…” Zhuo was momentarily at a loss for words, panting softly. “Why did you do that?”

“Because you needed it.” Yuan Anqing tried to help Zhuo up, which was easy this time, as Zhuo stood up with his assistance, his physical tension entirely gone.

“But I… I thought about you like that!” Zhuo’s body had begun to cool down, and this sudden, embarrassing biological transformation was about to end. “Aren’t you angry?”

“You couldn’t control your biological thoughts,” Yuan Anqing said reasonably. “I also thought about secretly getting rid of my former boss, but I was still his most diligent employee. Thoughts are just thoughts.”

“But I… I…” Zhuo wanted to say more, but he noticed Yuan Anqing’s clothes were still wet, so he quickly urged Yuan Anqing to change. After all, Yuan Anqing getting a cold would truly be uncomfortable, certainly more so than Zhuo’s fever.

Zhuo practically pushed Yuan Anqing out into the bedroom, then stood outside the door and closed it properly to give him privacy.

Zhuo never used to do this, as he didn’t think Yuan Anqing’s body was special in any way. They both looked the same, and he was much stronger than Yuan Anqing. Now, Zhuo feared that seeing Yuan Anqing’s bare skin would remind him of the intense psychic pleasure he had just experienced.

“You… won’t you feel disgusted?” Zhuo asked, leaning against the bedroom door, drained of all strength.

“I feel much, much better actually.” Yuan Anqing’s voice came from inside as he changed out of his damp clothes.

Zhuo slid down the door until he was sitting on the floor. He felt that he might be starting to truly love Yuan Anqing.

He prided himself on understanding love thoroughly; it was merely a spray of hormones, a castle in the air built on fantasy. If the other person showed one bit of kindness, the receiver would imagine ten, dreaming of growing old together, having a house full of children, envisioning them walking together under the sunset in their old age, envied by ignorant youngsters.

All passionate love was built upon fantasy. Zhuo understood it all, completely.

But he also couldn’t help himself; he wanted to infinitely extend the days he spent with Yuan Anqing, stretching them into an unseen future. He didn’t ask for more, only hoped these days wouldn’t change, and no new people would come to share them. He wanted to hug Yuan Anqing to sleep every day. He wouldn’t devour Yuan Anqing, but he could always kiss Yuan Anqing’s lips, having more intimate contact than others, right?

He had indeed begun to love Yuan Anqing, but to what extent, Zhuo wasn’t sure. Zhuo had no prior experience to compare it to; Yuan Anqing was the closest person in his life. He only knew he couldn’t accept Yuan Anqing leaving.

This was perhaps an unhealthy kind of love, wasn’t it? So Zhuo felt he must like him very, very much, to the point of being somewhat pathological.

Yuan Anqing finished changing his clothes and opened the door, only to find Zhuo curled up on the floor again. Yuan Anqing was helpless. “Zhuo, are you a pill bug?”

Zhuo looked up at Yuan Anqing pitifully.

“Go in and change your clothes; don’t burden yourself too much,” Yuan Anqing comforted Zhuo. “Since your fever broke, let’s eat. We still have tasks to do.”

“Okay.” Zhuo lowered his head and walked into the bathroom, not daring to have much contact with Yuan Anqing.

Yuan Anqing, seeing Zhuo go in, secretly breathed a sigh of relief. While changing, he had quickly looked up information on ‘adolescent behavior’ of this type on his phone, but found those articles lacked practical reference value for a world-ending chimera.

Those human adolescents, upon sexual maturity, had brains overflowing with lewd thoughts. Zhuo knew much more than them theoretically, yet Zhuo had no inherently sordid intentions, believing such physical matters were nothing special before today. This made Zhuo’s current shyness even stranger; it shouldn’t have been Zhuo’s reaction.

Yuan Anqing felt at a loss for how to guide him.

Zhuo came out after changing, then silently put his wet clothes into the washing machine without uttering a single word.

Later, at the dinner table, Zhuo only focused on eating.

After understanding Zhuo’s massive appetite, Yuan Anqing had a sense of proportion each time he cooked, so there was always enough food for every meal, with a little left over.

But this time was different. This time, Zhuo stress-ate all the rice. When Zhuo went for his seventh helping, facing an empty rice cooker, he realized he had gone a bit overboard.

“I’m sorry. I ate all the rice.” Zhuo looked genuinely dejected.

“It’s fine,” Yuan Anqing quickly reassured him. “Are you full? Do you want me to cook a little more?”

“I’m full.” Zhuo placed his bowl and chopsticks in the sink. “I’ll wash the dishes later.”

“Actually, you can rest too.” As soon as Yuan Anqing’s words fell, Zhuo seemed to lose his soul, so Yuan Anqing had to quickly amend, “You wash! Wash the dishes! And while you’re at it, mop the floor!”

Only then did Zhuo seem to regain some spirit. Having something to do prevented him from looking so dejected.

He still looked truly terrible, so Yuan Anqing had to once again seek help from a youth expert—the former Savior, Chen Jiao.

Of course, he wouldn’t tell Chen Jiao the specific, embarrassing details of their bathroom conflict. He only texted that ‘someone’ was ashamed and sad over something that wasn’t a mistake at all, and even felt too embarrassed to face him.

Chen Jiao replied quickly, probably having nothing better to do in the hospital:

[The more you try to persuade him it’s fine, the more ashamed he’ll feel. If he believes he’s done something wrong, no amount of comfort will help.]

[…Do you have any childhood traumas?]

[Tell him something particularly, particularly tragic that caused severe consequences. You also blame yourself, you also feel sad, you also cry, right? Shared vulnerability.]

Crying might be a bit difficult, Yuan Anqing thought.

Yuan Anqing felt that the only truly tragic experiences in his past were being adopted and then returned to the orphanage a few times.

But wouldn’t it be too abrupt to suddenly bring that up? I never used to care about such things.

As he pondered, Zhuo, who had been aggressively mopping the floor, finished his task. He stood there awkwardly by the sofa, like a servant awaiting a summons, waiting for Yuan Anqing to assign him more chores to distract him.

Yuan Anqing glanced at Zhuo, then at the awkward distance between them. He then let out a heavy, deliberate sigh.

That sigh made Zhuo tense up. Zhuo wanted to ask Yuan Anqing what was wrong, but he still dared not speak.

However, after sighing, Yuan Anqing simply leaned back on the sofa in silence.

Yuan Anqing realized he didn’t need to dwell on his ‘tragic’ childhood, because he simply didn’t care if he was abandoned. He had never held expectations for those people, so he naturally couldn’t be disappointed. Talking about childhood trauma at a time like this would seem very hypocritical and fake.

Yuan Anqing was more concerned about whether Zhuo would truly distance himself from him because of this embarrassment, which would make his daily life boring again.

“Are you only going to stand there?” Yuan Anqing asked Zhuo.

Zhuo remained silent.

“We two haven’t actually had s*x yet,” Yuan Anqing said bluntly. “It was just a psychic release to help out. Good friends among adolescents would probably help each other out, wouldn’t they?”

Zhuo thought not. If every act of ‘help’ felt like what he had just experienced in the golden void, then such a friendship would absolutely not be pure.

So Zhuo still remained silent.

Yuan Anqing had no choice. He got up, retrieved the wine the delivery person had left earlier by the door, and went to the balcony alone.

The sky was still bright; it wasn’t dark yet. However, there were no children playing outside at this time, likely due to the hot summer weather.

“Aren’t you coming to sit with me?” Yuan Anqing asked Zhuo.

Zhuo shook his head, still recovering from the shock, unsure how to interact with Yuan Anqing.

Yuan Anqing sighed again, then went to the balcony alone with his wine.

Zhuo felt that Yuan’s back looked somewhat dejected—like a lonely old man without company. Thinking this, Zhuo shook his head again. Yuan Anqing wouldn’t be without company; he was the Savior, and many people liked him.

The balcony’s railing featured an alloy floral pattern, with an additional opaque glass panel installed behind it. As Yuan Anqing sat on the balcony, he caught sight of Zhuo nervously peeking through the reflection in the glass.

Once Yuan Anqing wasn’t looking at him directly, Zhuo became less reserved. He cautiously edged toward the balcony door, yet he was still so afraid Yuan Anqing might suddenly turn his head that he dared not make a sound.

Soon, Zhuo’s eyes met Yuan Anqing’s through the glass reflection. Zhuo’s movements froze, then he quickly averted his gaze, his hands clasped tightly together.

Yuan Anqing looked away, poured himself a glass of wine, and then let out another heavy, dramatic sigh.

Each sigh made Zhuo’s heart pound with guilt.

Zhuo looked up again and, seeing that Yuan Anqing wasn’t observing him through the glass panel, continued to inch closer. He wanted to get a little nearer.

“If you’re not going to sit, why are you inching towards me?” Yuan Anqing asked faintly.

Zhuo froze, quickly crouching down below the window frame, and instinctively accused, “You were peeking!”

“I don’t need to peek; I know exactly what you’re doing.” Yuan Anqing took a sip of wine. “I know you’re genuinely embarrassed, but that obedient, timid act of yours is definitely feigned.”

Zhuo became silent again.

Yuan Anqing didn’t mind. “I’m quite glad you’re not that obedient. If you really didn’t come, then I would be the one feeling miserable.”

“I thought about feigning pity to mend our relationship, but seeing how distant you are from me, I realized there’s no need to pretend. I truly am quite pathetic.” Yuan Anqing still didn’t turn around; he merely spoke with his back to Zhuo. “If you don’t come closer, I’ll truly have no friends,” Yuan Anqing said softly. “I’ll be all alone, barely clinging to life, waiting for death.”

“If that were the case, it would be better if I had never met you. I’d be exactly the same as I was before.” Yuan Anqing’s voice remained slow and melancholic. “But you came, and you’ve been with me for so long; I’ve grown quite fond of you. And just when I thought life wasn’t so terrible, you have to leave.”

Yuan Anqing sighed again. “Since you’re here, just take your time. You can tell me when you’re ready to leave.”

Zhuo: “…”

“You won’t leave, will you?” Yuan Anqing asked him.

With a whoosh, the screen door to the balcony slid open. Zhuo walked out from the living room, then stood before Yuan Anqing, their eyes meeting.

Yuan Anqing waited for Zhuo’s next move.

Zhuo plopped down heavily on the floor, resting his head on Yuan Anqing’s knees, and looked up at him.

Yuan Anqing set down his wine glass and reached out to stroke Zhuo’s hair.

After a few strokes, Zhuo lunged forward and hugged Yuan Anqing.

He sat on Yuan Anqing’s lap, embracing him completely, his massive tail wrapping securely around Yuan Anqing’s calves. It was a bit heavy, but Yuan Anqing quite liked this solid, substantial feeling.

“I won’t leave,” Zhuo said, burying his face. “You’re my prey.” He tried hard to nuzzle Yuan Anqing’s neck, but his chin only reached the top of Yuan Anqing’s head. There was no helping it; he was twenty centimeters taller than Yuan Anqing, even when sitting on his lap.

“If you… if you don’t dislike it, then of course I don’t mind! I’m too happy to even care! I’ve gained a new desire! I’m better than you!” Zhuo’s words were a jumbled, excited mess.

Yuan Anqing couldn’t speak; he was buried in Zhuo’s massive chest.

“From the first day I became your bodyguard, you couldn’t shake me off! I won’t let you get away! You’re my favorite prey!” The tip of Zhuo’s tail tapped Yuan Anqing’s ankle.

This time it wasn’t out of pleasure, but nervousness. Every word Zhuo spoke now made him anxious.

He wasn’t merely a simple desire anymore; he liked Yuan Anqing.

But Zhuo didn’t want to say the words ‘love’ or ‘like’. He didn’t want to see even a hint of hesitation or difficulty on Yuan Anqing’s face, as if Zhuo were kidnapping Yuan Anqing emotionally.

Zhuo couldn’t explain why, but genuinely liking Yuan Anqing had made him timid.

“Don’t ever question whether I’ll run away again!” Zhuo’s voice grew a little fiercer to compensate. He was very powerful; he wasn’t some weak, timid coward.

Although he would consider Yuan Anqing’s feelings, Zhuo didn’t care about anyone else’s. In the future, if Yuan Anqing ever had the slightest possibility of falling for someone else, Zhuo would eat that person first, erasing them completely, and then cultivate his feelings with Yuan Anqing.

Thinking this, Zhuo released Yuan Anqing slightly. “You’re not sad anymore, right?”

Yuan Anqing countered, “You’re not embarrassed anymore, right?”

The tip of Zhuo’s tail began to tap Yuan Anqing’s ankle again. This time, out of pure happiness.