Empathy and Expectations

“It’s truly exhausting to look after a child,” Zhuo lamented, lying flat on his back beside Yuan Anqing.

Yuan Anqing paused his scrolling. “Exhausting?”

Zhuo turned onto his side to face him. “Especially a child that big.”

“Just now, after dinner, Zheng Xiao’an washed the dishes, wiped down the table, and even mopped the entire living room,” Yuan Anqing reminded his bodyguard.

The teenager had practically volunteered for those tasks out of sheer terror. Zheng Xiao’an was so incredibly tense and reserved in their presence that they couldn’t simply sit on the sofa and relax; they felt legally compelled to contribute manual labor to justify their survival.

Yuan Anqing only felt the mild, introverted discomfort of a stranger encroaching upon his personal apartment, but he didn’t find the teenager particularly difficult to manage.

“You wouldn’t understand, Savior,” Zhuo sighed dramatically.

Yuan Anqing felt Zhuo didn’t understand either, merely playing a domestic roleplay in his own head. “Have you been watching too many family dramas lately?”

“Not dramas, but the children in those prime-time TV shows always argue fiercely with their parents,” Zhuo said, his red eyes wide. “When do you think he’ll start yelling and arguing with us?”

Yuan Anqing replied, “…I don’t think that day will ever come.”

After all, they had known the kid for less than twenty-four hours, and given Zheng Xiao’an’s terrified, quiet personality, it was highly unlikely they would ever dare to pick a fight with a Savior and a two-meter-tall monster.

“You don’t understand teenagers at all,” Zhuo sighed again, rolling onto his back. “Do you think they’ve had an early romance?”

“Zhuo,” Yuan Anqing interrupted him, shutting down the teenage drama. “Should we just get a dog in a few weeks?”

Yuan Anqing believed Zhuo was thoroughly immersed in the novel joy of this “co-parenting” roleplay, showing a sudden, intense interest in nurturing something smaller than him. Logically, this curiosity—wanting a cat, a puppy, or a younger sibling—should have been experienced during Zhuo’s childhood. But because he had been locked in a sterile room, he was experiencing it all now.

A human child, however, was out of the question. Yuan Anqing did not believe he possessed the psychological bandwidth to care for another human being.

“Can a dog be eaten?” Zhuo asked curiously.

“It’s not poisonous, but generally, humans don’t eat pet dogs.” Yuan Anqing suddenly thought of something. “Do you want to eat the kid?”

“No. He doesn’t taste good.” Zhuo reached out under the covers and covered Yuan Anqing’s wrist with his warm hand. “Don’t you think this is wonderful right now? The three of us?”

“Wonderful how? Do you genuinely want to raise a child?” Yuan Anqing’s brows were already furrowed in exhaustion.

“No,” Zhuo shook his head. Then, he leaned in and rubbed his cheek affectionately against Yuan Anqing’s shoulder. “I’ve just been tired all day from being a parent.”

Yuan Anqing felt that today was no different from any other, save for the presence of a quiet teenager in the guest room. “So that was your objective all along.”

Yuan Anqing finally understood. Zhuo simply wanted to play a unique, domestic game. “Don’t you think this is a bit excessive? Staging a whole family dynamic? It’s a little disrespectful to drag the kid into your game.”

“Why is it excessive?” Zhuo rarely thought that deeply; his capacity for complex thought was almost entirely reserved for Yuan Anqing. “I didn’t say it in front of him. Only you know.”

Before Yuan Anqing could respond, Zhuo’s tail twitched under the covers as he realized something. “Oh! You don’t like this game!”

Yuan Anqing pursed his lips. “Apologies. I might be a bit of a spoilsport.”

“Not at all,” Zhuo disagreed quickly. He gazed into Yuan Anqing’s gold-tinted eyes, carefully observing his conflicted, deadpan expression. “Your detached yet gentle demeanor is the most interesting thing in the world.”

“Detached yet gentle?” Yuan Anqing raised an eyebrow, questioning the description.

“Anyway, you’re much gentler than I am,” Zhuo said, snuggling closer. He felt that Yuan Anqing’s displayed attitude was completely opposite to his own, and his inner thoughts were probably also contrary to his. “I like you this way.”

Yuan Anqing felt that Zhuo was seeing him through highly distorted, rose-tinted glasses.

“Then we won’t bring the kid along next time,” Zhuo’s tail wagged happily. “Do you want to play with my tail instead?”

Yuan Anqing sighed, feeling as if he had been inexplicably comforted by the monster. He cupped Zhuo’s face and leaned in for a light, quiet kiss on his lips. “You don’t need any other tricks, Zhuo. You’re captivating enough, whether you’re looking at me or making those small, dramatic gestures.”

His expression remained largely unchanged as he spoke, yet Zhuo’s tail instantly went rigid with excitement.

“If you really want to play a game,” Yuan Anqing suggested, a faint smirk tugging at his lips, “how about ‘Savior and Captured Great Monster’?”

“Eh?”

“Can you accept that roleplay?”

As soon as Yuan Anqing asked, Zhuo extended both his massive hands toward him. He clasped his hands into fists, his inner wrists pressed tightly together. “Go ahead. Tie me up.”

Yuan Anqing: “…”

“Can you use your dress tie to bind me?” Zhuo’s tail tapped repeatedly against the mattress.

“Do you want me to tie your eyes with the tie?” Yuan Anqing asked, his voice dropping.

“Ah! Yes, yes!” Zhuo’s tail began tapping even faster.

When Zheng Xiao’an woke up the next morning and walked into the living room, Zhuo smiled at them warmly. “You like it here, right, child?”

“Thank you, big brother,” Zheng Xiao’an replied, their entire body going stiff.

“Your toothbrush and cup are by the bathroom sink,” Zhuo introduced the layout proudly.

Zheng Xiao’an mumbled another polite thank you before practically scurrying to the bathroom.

The moment the door clicked shut, Zhuo’s warm expression vanished, replaced by deep, pouting confusion. He lowered his voice, asking Yuan Anqing, “Why is he still so afraid of me? I gave him a super comfortable guest bed and bought him so many plush toys. Shouldn’t he be very grateful to his new father?”

“He’s almost seventeen, not a primary school student,” Yuan Anqing said, eating his breakfast. “Besides, we didn’t adopt him. He’s here for a protective custody mission. He knows he’s temporary.”

“You can perceive his emotions, so you should know better how to make him relax,” Yuan Anqing remarked.

“I only know that saying ‘What good do you expect to get from falling into our hands?’ makes humans instantly bristle,” Zhuo huffed. “I’m a destroyer, not a healer. But… I can try to learn how to make him more comfortable.”

“You don’t need to learn that. Just don’t let him mutate from stress.”

“I’ll try to be gentler,” Zhuo stubbornly insisted.

Yuan Anqing glanced at Zhuo but said nothing. He felt Zhuo shouldn’t be interested in this child; the teenager wasn’t special enough to be considered ‘delicious’ by Zhuo’s standards. Yet, Zhuo was actively attempting to understand him, even trying to empathize.

Empathy? This seemed to contradict the very nature of a desire-eating monster.

The bathroom door opened, and Zheng Xiao’an walked back out, keeping their head down. Zhuo watched them approach, then pushed a bowl of freshly steamed buns toward them.

Zhuo cleared his throat, trying to sound like a gentle, caring parent. “I know your mother died during her differentiation. But how did your father die?”

Yuan Anqing nearly choked on his tea.

Clearly, this is not a proper way to empathize with a traumatized teenager, Yuan thought, coughing into his napkin.

Zheng Xiao’an was completely stunned by the blunt, morbid question. But under the pressure of Zhuo’s intense red eyes, they quickly responded, “My mother killed him. Her inferior differentiation was too sudden, and she lost control.”

They knew they had biological parents, but they didn’t know their names, their relationship, or if they had even anticipated their birth. After all, the concept of a loving family had never existed in their life.

“I understand orphans best,” Zhuo immediately declared, puffing out his chest. “I know a lot of orphans, and I’m one myself.” He seemed rather proud of this shared trauma.

Zheng Xiao’an pondered Zhuo’s proud expression, entirely bewildered, before tentatively chiming in, “…Wow.”

“Honestly, if the three of us stayed together, we could form a super-large orphanage!” Zhuo gestured grandly with his hands. “All orphans! A family of outcasts!”

Yuan Anqing took a slow sip of his tea. “Zhuo. It’s time for work.” Any more ‘comforting’ from Zhuo and the teenager was going to throw themselves out the window.

Standing up, Zhuo gave Zheng Xiao’an a warning look. “You’ll start working eventually, just like him.” He pointed at Yuan Anqing.

To the teenager, Yuan Anqing looked incredibly intimidating—like a calm, ruthless corporate elite. Zheng Xiao’an looked at Yuan Anqing with both fear and deep reverence; they knew he was the Savior. Unlike the inexplicably childish Zhuo, Yuan Anqing appeared very reliable—a mature, safe adult.

However, Yuan Anqing felt Zhuo was merely cursing the child with the threat of future labor. Why was Zhuo so fixated on getting along with this kid? Was his game of playing house going to continue indefinitely?

“Please, Mr. Savior… when will you help me resolve the issue of my Differentiated energy?” Zheng Xiao’an asked quietly, unable to bear the domestic tension any longer. They wanted to leave this apartment as quickly as possible.

“Only when the chaotic energies within you show a concentrated, stable burst,” Yuan Anqing explained patiently. “They are too disordered right now. If I interfere forcefully with my golden gaze, your mental stability might be permanently damaged.”

Zheng Xiao’an immediately wilted, their shoulders slumping.

Zhuo happily placed Zheng Xiao’an’s test papers and homework into a briefcase. This child would have to stay with them for a while, and if they went to the office, the child would have to accompany them and find something to do.

“It’s a rare holiday from school; you should relax a bit yourself. Don’t always think about studying,” Zhuo said, handing them the briefcase.

Zheng Xiao’an stared at the case. Their current situation was no different from being back in school! Except at school, at least no terrifying Savior stared at them one-on-one while they did calculus. Yesterday, when Yuan Anqing had checked their homework, the Savior’s brows had furrowed deeper and deeper in silent judgment. He hadn’t scolded them; he had merely sighed and pressed his temples.

Zheng Xiao’an had felt so thoroughly humiliated by their own academic inadequacy that they wanted to dissolve into the floorboards.

“Actually, we have another Savior,” Yuan Anqing said, noticing the teenager’s reluctance to take the briefcase.

Zheng Xiao’an looked up, hope flaring in their round eyes.

Yuan Anqing reached up to adjust his glasses. “If you wish, I can ask Bai Tian to transfer your custody to her.”

A female Savior? A gentle, smiling older sister radiating holy, motherly light appeared in Zheng Xiao’an’s mind.

“She’s much gentler than I am,” Yuan Anqing said, believing Chen Jiao’s personality was definitely better suited for a teenager. “And she’s very suitable for you.”

What did ‘suitable’ mean? Zheng Xiao’an didn’t understand.

Zhuo clarified helpfully, “Chen Jiao is a retired high school math teacher.”

Yuan Anqing nodded. “Moreover, she’s taught many graduating classes. If you follow her, your grades, at the very least, are sure to improve by leaps and bounds under her strict supervision.”

Zheng Xiao’an took a deep, shaky breath, the image of the holy sister instantly morphing into a terrifying, chalk-throwing demon. “I think… I think it’s perfectly fine here. I really like doing homework on your sofa.”

Zhuo smiled happily. He felt that while this kid wasn’t very bright, they at least had excellent taste in guardians.

Zhuo’s sudden, intense attention toward Zheng Xiao’an had even aroused the vigilance of Bai Tian and the monitoring team. After all, Zhuo’s personality, as they knew it, was highly aggressive and possessive. When had Zhuo ever been so attentive to a stranger?

Bai Tian was worried. He called Zhuo directly, trying to subtly probe if the monster had developed a “new interest” in other humans. At first, Zhuo didn’t grasp the subtext, only saying that the teenager was quite interesting to observe.

But when Bai Tian steered the conversation back to Yuan Anqing, Zhuo finally understood: this bureaucrat thought he was cheating on his Savior.

[You wouldn’t have such a stupid, rotted idea unless there was something wrong with your own brain,] Zhuo texted back, furious. [I would never cheat. Put away your filthy thoughts, Bai Tian.]

Instead of being offended by the insults, Bai Tian was profoundly relieved. He then asked Zhuo what his true intentions were with the kid.

[Is that any of your business?] Zhuo retorted. [Mind your own business.]

Zhuo grumbled, locked his phone, and stalked over to Yuan Anqing’s desk, patting his shoulder. “Come outside with me for a moment.”

Yuan Anqing didn’t ask what was wrong. He simply glanced back at Zheng Xiao’an, who was writing a test at the small table, nodded to Yang Shu, and followed Zhuo out into the corridor.

“Bai Tian thinks I’ve fallen for Zheng Xiao’an,” Zhuo accused, his voice full of childish grievance the moment they were alone. “He thinks because I’m being nice to the kid, it means I like him. What kind of sick, human logic is that?”

Yuan Anqing was somewhat amused. “Why would he think that?”

Zhuo clicked his tongue. “He has a dirty mind and projects his own insecurities onto me.” He then looked down, cautiously asking Yuan Anqing, “Have my recent actions really been that strange?”

“I think they’re fine,” Yuan Anqing said.

He had initially been puzzled by Zhuo’s interest in the teenager, assuming Zhuo saw them as a pet. But lately, Yuan Anqing realized that Zhuo was clumsily attempting to communicate with the child from an equal perspective. It was more than mere curiosity; it was a form of practice.

Zhuo was born with immense, world-ending power; he had never had a reason to empathize with anyone.

“I’m just very confused as to why you’re suddenly trying so hard to practice empathy,” Yuan Anqing said softly.

“Because I want to understand you!” Zhuo’s tail began to wag happily, his bad mood instantly evaporating. He was thrilled that Yuan Anqing understood his intent.

“I want to know what kind of world you see in your heart,” Zhuo said, reaching out to touch Yuan Anqing’s chest. “You always act like you don’t care, but your emotions are actually so rich, Savior.”

“If I had known earlier that I would fall for you… if I had known how to understand what you were thinking, our first meeting wouldn’t have been so terrible.” Zhuo looked at him with genuine regret. “I wouldn’t have frightened you.”

So, Zhuo had begun trying to learn how to be a gentle monster—one that wouldn’t make Yuan Anqing uncomfortable. He felt he had made great progress; even the terrified teenager was slowly tolerating him.

“If I had been as smart and gentle then as I am now, you would have liked me a long time ago,” Zhuo concluded proudly.