The Unconventional Pursuit

Zhuo was so hungry he could devour an entire ox. This was no exaggeration; after gnawing through ten whole roasted chickens, Zhuo declared he was still famished.

Yuan Anqing promptly ordered another mountain of takeout for him. Then, observing Zhuo’s somewhat dejected expression, he inquired, “There’s something I’ve always wanted to understand.”

“Hmm?” Zhuo blinked at Yuan Anqing. “What is it?”

“Why are you called Zhuo?” Yuan Anqing had reviewed Zhuo’s interrogation logs, noting the authorities’ predominantly appeasing attitude. They never forced the monster to do anything. So, what was the story behind his strange name?

“Because it sounds cool,” Zhuo stated matter-of-factly.

Yuan Anqing paused for a moment before asking again, “Did you choose that name yourself?”

“Don’t you think it sounds great? It perfectly suits my identity.” Zhuo, a monster who lured others with desire, believed his very existence was an original sin. Of course, he wasn’t troubled by this; he thought being the embodiment of primordial chaos made him incredibly cool.

“When I couldn’t speak yet, they just called me ‘that child.’ Later, when they realized I possessed intelligence, they started calling me ‘Little Miracle’.” Zhuo made a face of clear, undisguised disdain. “Such idiotic names.”

Yuan Anqing pressed a hand to his forehead.

“Is your head hurting again?” Zhuo looked at Yuan Anqing with concern.

“No, I’m merely marveling at your complete freedom.” Yuan Anqing felt it would be difficult for Zhuo to ever meet the secular definition of “maturity,” as he had never needed to endure hardship. Yuan Anqing, however, yearned for a soul as ‘naïve’ and unburdened as Zhuo’s.

“I’m not that free; I’m locked up by you, after all.” Zhuo was rather glad he hadn’t experienced absolute freedom. His confinement had led him to Yuan Anqing.

Zhuo had deleted the information about his ‘pursuit’ of Yuan Anqing from the logs of his conversations with the authorities. He felt there was no need for Yuan Anqing to learn about his romantic strategies from someone else.

Zhuo had his own way of pursuing his Savior. “Are you going to see Yuan Zhanhui and the others tomorrow?” he asked, deftly changing the subject.

“Why would I go see them?” Yuan Anqing didn’t understand.

“They were quite frightened by Zhou Qiong’s condition,” Zhuo explained. “They’ll all face that day eventually. They’ll break down, controlled by the raw power within them. The personalities currently residing in their bodies are merely temporary. They might not even know when they’ll finally collapse.”

The young anomaly, Zhou Qiong, was having trouble distinguishing between reality and the past. Logically, Zhou Qiong should have forgotten everything completely. Even if his original personality had been recovered, it would be useless; he would no longer be himself, much like the reincarnations in legends.

Yet, Yuan Anqing had managed to restore Zhou Qiong, sculpting his soul back to its original self, perfectly, without a single flaw. The only consequence was that Zhou Qiong now struggled to believe that the life he was currently living was truly the real world. Yuan Anqing’s power had truly startled him.

“Yuan Zhanhui and the others want to see you,” Zhuo said. “Perhaps they hope you can help them too when they eventually break down.”

“Then I’ll go see them,” Yuan Anqing said, propping up his head. “What did Bai Tian say?”

“They hope to use this opportunity to win over Yuan Zhanhui’s faction, without revealing their own identities for now.” Zhuo paused, as if remembering something, then added, “Someone from the government also wants to meet with me tomorrow.”

“Oh?” Yuan Anqing was a little surprised. “Who?”

“Someone who was in charge of me before I met you.” Zhuo thought for a moment. “I think it was a woman.”

“You don’t even remember their gender?” Yuan Anqing sighed, exasperated.

“They came and went so frequently, it’s normal that I don’t remember them all.” Zhuo didn’t believe he needed to recall every temporary handler he’d ever psychologically tortured.

“Right. You should go to sleep,” Zhuo said suddenly, noticing Yuan Anqing’s eyes were barely staying open. “You need rest. You were already very sleepy when you were washing up earlier.”

“I’ll stay with you for a bit while you eat,” Yuan Anqing said.

“No need,” Zhuo refused Yuan Anqing’s companionship. “You can sleep after you’ve had a meal.”

If Yuan Anqing skipped a meal, his stomach would suffer. If only your stomach were as resilient as mine, Zhuo thought possessively.

Watching Zhuo eat was actually quite therapeutic. Yuan Anqing couldn’t quite describe it, but Zhuo was utterly focused when he ate, his eyes solely on the food. It was rather… cute.

After washing up, Yuan Anqing returned to his room, while Zhuo remained in the living room, awaiting the next round of takeout. He collected the empty meal containers from the table, placing them into a large trash bag.

Zhuo could hear Yuan Anqing’s breathing from the bedroom. Yuan Anqing was indeed very tired; his breathing settled into a steady rhythm shortly after he lay down. He was fast asleep.

Click-clack, came the sound of the delivery person’s footsteps outside the apartment door.

Zhuo opened the door before they could ring the bell.

The delivery person jumped in surprise.

“Someone’s sleeping in my house, so there’s no need to ring,” Zhuo said, taking the outer box.

Is there a party going on here? The delivery person was a little bewildered by the sheer volume of food. He double-checked the last digits of the phone number with Zhuo, confirming he hadn’t delivered to the wrong address. “May I ask… what are all these food items for?”

“They’re all for me,” Zhuo replied cheerfully.

The delivery person was stunned into silence. Zhuo had no intention of continuing the conversation; he simply closed the door.

Zhuo placed the massive takeout boxes on the dining table, then scurried to the bedroom door to peek at the sleeping Yuan Anqing. He stood there for a moment, then decisively moved the meal boxes to the doorway of the bedroom. He planned to eat while watching Yuan Anqing sleep. His Savior surely wouldn’t mind.

The next day, Yuan Anqing awoke early. The feeling of grogginess had vanished, and he stretched lazily, noticing Zhuo wasn’t in bed beside him.

“Zhuo?” Yuan Anqing frowned, sitting up.

“I’m here.” Zhuo heard his voice and poked his head through the bedroom door to look at Yuan Anqing.

“Did you sleep at all yesterday?” Yuan Anqing reached out to touch the spot beside him. Zhuo’s blanket was already neatly folded.

“Yes, I slept,” Zhuo nodded.

“Then why are you up so early?” Yuan Anqing asked, puzzled.

“To make steamed buns,” Zhuo answered plainly.

Yuan Anqing: “Huh?”

Zhuo repeated, “To make steamed buns.”

“Why are you making steamed buns?” Yuan Anqing got out of bed.

“The ones from the street stalls are delicious, but not hygienic.” Zhuo had stopped caring about such details for himself, but it was different for Yuan Anqing. “Besides, you’ve been very weak recently.”

“My period of weakness has passed,” Yuan Anqing reminded him, feeling his head was much clearer now.

Zhuo shook his head. “It’s different. Humans like you, with internal organ deficiencies, still need a period of recuperation.”

“So you woke up at 5 AM just to make breakfast?” Yuan Anqing asked.

“Yes.”

Yuan Anqing walked out of the room, finding the dining table spotless and the kitchen filled with the warm, yeasty aroma of steamed buns. “What happened to all those takeout containers from yesterday?”

“I’ve organized them into recycling. We’ll take them down together when we go to the government building later.” Zhuo pointed toward the front door.

Zhuo was still wearing an apron. Two plastic bags full of produce were hanging from his horns. Yuan Anqing was accustomed to Zhuo using his horns as storage, but upon closer inspection, he realized the bags contained ginger and garlic.

Yuan Anqing reached up and took the plastic bags from Zhuo’s horns. “You could have waited for me to wake up. We could have tidied up together.”

“You’re not feeling well. We’ll clean up together after three days,” Zhuo said firmly.

“Definitely after three days?”

“After three days,” Zhuo nodded.

Yuan Anqing was helplessly pressed down at the dining table by Zhuo. He watched the monster’s busy figure moving around the kitchen. “Actually, takeout isn’t that unhealthy.”

“I do not accept that,” Zhuo interrupted, rejecting the very suggestion of ordering out.

At the government building, Yuan Anqing and Zhuo went to separate offices upon arrival. Yuan Anqing was to report on the changes in his mental world, while Zhuo was taken by his former handler to discuss… “relationship issues.”

“You people are so annoying. I am passionately pursuing Yuan Anqing,” Zhuo said, glaring at the woman opposite him. “You only dare to hover around me now because the Savior is here. If he weren’t, I would have bitten you to death long ago.”

The woman sighed, exasperated. “We’re not here to offer you ‘solutions.’ You just need to express your romantic needs to us.”

“What needs?” Zhuo was confused.

“For example, a romantic holiday, a spontaneous trip. Or fireworks over a sea of roses,” the woman listed off clichés. “We’ll mobilize all our resources to bring you two together.”

Love, in truth, was incredibly unreliable, but it was precisely this unreliable emotional factor that they had to use to bind these two unstable, world-ending individuals together.

“You’re so vulgar,” Zhuo commented. “Are you even married?”

“Of course I’m married,” the woman frowned. “So, what do you want?”

“I’m already passionately pursuing Yuan Anqing; I don’t need your tacky help,” Zhuo said. “And Yuan Anqing doesn’t even like flowers.”

“Whether someone likes flowers depends on who sends them,” the woman said, quite experienced in this area. “I like flowers when my husband sends them to me, but I wouldn’t go buy them for myself.”

“So, ultimately, you still just like your husband, not the flowers,” Zhuo said, refusing to fall for the flawed logic. “Since I’m already so special to him, why would I need to send something as useless as flowers?”

“It’s a symbolic gesture,” the woman said, exasperated. “You can’t completely lay your heart bare to the Savior. There always needs to be some symbolic gift to prove your affection.”

“I still think what you’re saying is fundamentally wrong,” Zhuo argued stubbornly.

The woman took a deep breath, calming her inner frustration. “Then what do you mean by ‘passionately pursuing’?”

Zhuo blinked. “I am very seriously in love with him.”

The woman felt her heart seize up.

Zhuo added, “I will take good care of him for the next three days while he is weak.”

“And then?”

“And then after these three days, his body will be fully recovered,” Zhuo explained logically. “Then he can do housework with me again.”

The woman felt like she was about to hyperventilate. “Did it never occur to you to, at least during the ‘pursuit’ phase, take on all the housework by yourself?!”

Zhuo shook his head. “That would be inefficient.”

The woman felt Zhuo was beyond saving. His chances of finding a partner were hopeless. Yet, Zhuo remained utterly confident. “My pursuit plan is truly perfect.”

The woman covered her face with her hands.

On the other side of the building, after completing his official report, Yuan Anqing went to visit Yuan Zhanhui and the others.

Yuan Zhanhui looked dispirited. Upon seeing Yuan Anqing, he forced a slight smile. “Mr. Savior.”

They weren’t there under arrest, but as “victims” seeking mandatory psychological counseling.

“I always thought I’d live my life so ordinarily,” Yuan Zhanhui scratched his head. A ticking time bomb was buried inside every conscious, inferior Differentiated Being. Once it detonated, everything they had experienced would be reset; their lives would be nothing but a sick joke.

“Actually, it’s still an ordinary life,” Yuan Anqing consoled him. “It’s just that you could die at any moment.”

Yuan Zhanhui looked at Yuan Anqing, remaining silent.

Yuan Anqing understood. “You weren’t comforted by that, were you?”

“A normal person wouldn’t be comforted by such words,” Yuan Zhanhui said flatly. “I thought you were mocking me.”

“I wasn’t mocking you,” Yuan Anqing clarified. “It’s just that the vast majority of people in this world die unexpectedly. Dying unexpectedly isn’t special; you just know your potential outcome with more certainty.”

Yuan Zhanhui actually felt a strange sense of comfort at that moment, which was too bizarre. He shook his head. “Will you save us?”

“I can save you, but I don’t think ‘save’ is the right word,” Yuan Anqing added honestly. “After your souls return to their origin and I mold them back into your original forms… even if your personalities are the same, are you truly still the same person?”

Yuan Zhanhui stared at him. “…I think the authorities shouldn’t have let you come talk to us.”

“Why?” Yuan Anqing didn’t understand.

“You’re too depressing,” Yuan Zhanhui said helplessly.

“I used to be very depressing, but my personality has been quite positive recently.” If Yuan Anqing were truly depressing, he would have simply answered “yes” or “no” to Yuan Zhanhui’s question, then fallen into a profound silence.

Yuan Anqing gestured to himself. “I’ve become much livelier recently.”

Yuan Zhanhui: “Huh?”

Yuan Anqing continued expressionlessly, “Unprecedentedly lively.”

Yuan Zhanhui: “…”