The Guardian’s Antics

“So… will he actually bite the Savior to death?” the military guard beside Bai Tian asked nervously, staring through the helicopter’s binoculars. “He really doesn’t look right, sir.”

“No,” Bai Tian shook his head, sighing. He didn’t know what had caused Zhuo’s mind to temporarily snap during the purification, but he knew Zhuo’s most recent biological differentiation had occurred because of Yuan Anqing. The monster had literally forced himself to learn how to love, mutating his own nervous system to feel human desire.

Before that, Zhuo didn’t even possess the physical capacity to feel such things. So even if his mind was currently broken by the psychic feedback, he would never physically harm his Savior.

After all, Zhuo couldn’t magically differentiate back into a heartless, instinct-driven beast. His humanity was permanent now.

“But Zhuo is so huge in his true form. He’s running around like a manic dinosaur,” the guard said, adjusting the camera feed. “If he accidentally steps on Mr. Yuan’s chest, he’ll kill him on the spot.”

Suddenly, on the thermal monitor, the frantic red giant abruptly stopped.

Zhuo stared intently down at the sleeping Yuan Anqing in the center of the cleared dirt. A stray mosquito had landed on Yuan Anqing’s forehead. Zhuo frowned his massive, scaled face, leaned down, and blew a carefully controlled, gentle breath to shoo it away.

After the mosquito was successfully blown off Yuan’s skin, Zhuo used one of his extra hands to swat it in mid-air.

BOOM!

A loud, violent explosion of dust and dirt erupted as Zhuo’s massive, scaled fist slammed into the concrete ground, shattering several pine roots.

Realizing he had just kicked up a cloud of dirt, Zhuo frantically blew the dust in the opposite direction, away from the sleeping Savior.

“He’s incredibly careful not to hurt Mr. Yuan, but what exactly is the underlying biological logic behind this behavior?” Bai Tian muttered, unable to comprehend the psychology of an unchained god.

“My house cat also suddenly runs around like crazy at three in the morning,” the guard beside him remarked. “Maybe he’s just… really happy?”

Happy, but not knowing how to physically express it.

Without human language to vent his overwhelming, newly-acquired emotions, he could only use raw, physical movement.

This time, the guard guessed the absolute truth. Zhuo was indeed deliriously happy. He felt a surge of pure bliss just looking at Yuan Anqing—an incredibly heavy, warm sensation. But he didn’t know where this happiness came from. Zhuo only knew he had to do something with his massive body, and since his old instinct to “make others despair” was gone, he could only run in circles.

He would run a few high-speed laps around the nest, stop to stare intently at Yuan Anqing to confirm he was still there and breathing, then get excited all over again. He’d nudge Yuan’s shoulder with his snout, look left and right, and then start his sprint again.

He ran especially proudly, his massive head held high, striding with an awkward, bouncy hop.

“He’s not a danger to the Savior for now, but we can’t get close to the clearing either,” Bai Tian said, staring at the live feed. Just now, when the extraction team had tried to descend, the massive chimera had bared his fangs at the chopper, nearly throwing a boulder at them. Only when the helicopter retreated did Zhuo relax and go back to his routine.

“Zhuo might be guarding him, but that corrupted Savior bone is still in the nest. We don’t know if Mr. Yuan is actually safe,” Bai Tian worried. After all, Yuan Anqing’s current physical body was just that of an ordinary human. He still needed to eat and drink.

Within the spiritual void, Yuan Anqing’s consciousness was still drifting. He increasingly felt that his new hire, Zhuo, was an exceptionally odd person.

He seemed to maintain the most basic, polite collegial relationship with everyone in the department. Yuan Anqing had asked several senior colleagues in the office, and they had all confirmed they had absolutely no idea about Zhuo’s background, family, or personal hobbies.

“He comes to the mandatory team-building events, and he does whatever is asked of him,” the chubby colleague sighed. “But whenever we give him a chance to improvise, he always makes the atmosphere freeze completely.”

Even when they went to karaoke together, Yuan Anqing would always be the one silently scrolling on his phone in the dark corner.

“He does everything by the book, with a strong sense of professional detachment,” Sister Bear had agreed, twitching her ears. “He’s completely different from you, Xiao Zhuo. You’re a total social terrorist.”

Zhuo had laughed loudly at the description. “Not at all! I’m just naturally lively!”

“Being naturally lively is good. Everyone likes people who know how to handle social situations,” the chubby colleague had chimed in. “But no matter how lively you are, you’ll always hit a brick wall with Yuan Anqing.”

Zhuo had scratched his head. “Yeah. My senior keeps his distance from me. I thought I had offended him somehow on my first day.”

“Well, you call everyone else ‘Brother Zhou’ or ‘Sister Wang,’ but you still address him formally as ‘Senior Yuan.'”

“I always felt that just calling him by his surname would be rude to him,” Zhuo had confessed. He thought Yuan Anqing was a deeply mysterious, fascinating man. Zhuo was always curious, and the colder Yuan Anqing acted, the more Zhuo wanted to get close. He wanted to figure out what kind of person his Senior really was underneath the corporate mask.

“Oh, right. Yuan Anqing got scolded by the department manager this morning,” Sister Bear had recalled. “It seems like there was a major data error in the CAD sheets. Even he makes mistakes.”

“Actually… it was my mistake,” Zhuo had quietly confessed, raising his hand.

Zhuo wasn’t as meticulous or skilled as Yuan Anqing, and when his drafting went wrong, Yuan Anqing had simply told him not to take the mistake to heart—just to learn from the lesson and be more careful next time. Then, Yuan Anqing had gone into the manager’s office and claimed the error was entirely his own. Since Zhuo was under his direct guidance, every document should have been vetted by him. He claimed he had missed it.

“Wow. His personality really… always makes people feel so gentle.”

“More like pale and dull,” Sister Bear had corrected. “Pale and dull.”

Zhuo had lowered his eyes, pondered for a moment, then turned and left the breakroom.

Meanwhile, in the office, Yuan Anqing was ready to take his lunch nap.

But just as he adjusted the inflatable U-shaped pillow around his neck and before he could close his eyes, Zhuo pushed the door open and placed a small, neatly wrapped box on his desk. “Senior. I caused you trouble with the manager today.”

Yuan Anqing glanced at the box, then at the nervous giant standing before him. “Thank you.”

He didn’t continue to comfort Zhuo or tell him it wasn’t his fault; that would require too much social energy.

Zhuo waited for a moment. Seeing Yuan Anqing slowly close his eyes to sleep, he asked, “Aren’t you going to open it?”

Yuan Anqing: “I’ll open it later.”

Zhuo immediately dragged his office chair over, sitting right beside him. “Senior.”

“Hmm?” Yuan Anqing was forced to open his eyes again, looking slightly impatient, though his face remained flat.

“Do you hate me, senior?” Zhuo asked. “You’re the first person in this office to ignore me.”

“I am not ignoring you. This is just my natural personality,” Yuan Anqing said helplessly, adjusting his neck pillow. “You cannot expect someone with little social enthusiasm to act against their nature just to entertain you.”

“You have no enthusiasm, senior?” Zhuo didn’t understand. “Why?”

“Does a lack of enthusiasm need a specific reason?”

“Doesn’t it?” Zhuo was even more puzzled. “What caused your low-desire state, senior? Aren’t you curious about yourself?”

“Not in the slightest.” Yuan Anqing frowned slightly. “I’m quite content being on my own.”

“On your own? What about your parents, senior?” Zhuo caught the key point.

“I am an orphan.”

“Me too! What a coincidence!” Zhuo beamed.

Yuan Anqing: “…”

Is being an orphan a common ground worth celebrating?

“Senior, you’re so handsome. Why weren’t you adopted?” Zhuo continued, entirely oblivious to whether Yuan Anqing wanted to sleep.

“What about you? Why weren’t you adopted?” Yuan Anqing countered.

“I forgot.” Zhuo thought back. “Maybe because I was diagnosed with a conduct disorder as a kid? I bit a lot of people.”

Yuan Anqing sighed, then propped his forehead with his hand. “Why do you insist on talking to me, Zhuo? You know I cannot give you any of the energetic responses you expect.”

“I just feel that you’re a really good person, senior,” Zhuo said softly. “And gentle.”

“Ha?”

Yuan Anqing had never heard anyone in his life call him “gentle.”

But Zhuo tapped his own temple. “I always feel like I can see through the cold exterior to the quiet loneliness beneath.” Zhuo thought it was strange too, but he considered it his unique talent. “Ah—I didn’t mean it in a weird way!” Zhuo quickly waved his hands, realizing it sounded like a pickup line.

Then he paused, thought for a moment, and corrected himself: “But I do have that thought.”

“What thought?” Yuan Anqing couldn’t understand. “Are you trying to hit on me? Is our relationship that close?”

“No,” Zhuo shook his head, looking earnest. “I suspect I’ve fallen in love with you at first sight.”

Yuan Anqing: “…”

Zhuo was objectively a very striking, handsome man; Yuan Anqing didn’t understand why he would fall in love with an exhausted senior colleague at first sight.

But Yuan Anqing was certain he didn’t want to date anyone, and certainly couldn’t reciprocate. “Listen, Zhuo. We need to keep a professional distance.”

“Ah?” Zhuo didn’t understand. “Did what I said bother you?”

“Yes.”

Zhuo blinked pitifully, but Yuan Anqing ignored him and closed his eyes.

“Hey?! The Savior is awake!” the guard in the helicopter exclaimed.

On the monitor, Yuan Anqing, who had been lying asleep in Zhuo’s nest of pine needles, slowly opened his eyes and sat up.

Zhuo, who had been frantically running in circles, immediately stopped.

Yuan Anqing rubbed his aching head, looked up, and met the giant, red-scaled beast’s gaze. When he saw Zhuo’s face, he froze.

He knew clearly that his mind had just emerged from the Awakening void. Given the current situation, he expected a terrifying, unchained monster.

But the giant creature merely stared down at him, tilting its head like an oversized puppy. Then, the massive secondary mouth in his chest split open.

Plop. Plop.

Something fell out of the dark cavity.

The scene was technically bizarre, but what fell out was… well, a bottle of iced tea? Yuan Anqing had never seen a drink with such cheap packaging.

Then, several bags of chips and chocolate bars dropped down onto the dirt.

These drinks and snacks landed directly in front of Yuan Anqing. He didn’t move. The big red monster raised its massive hand, pointing at the food, then nudged him gently.

“You want me to eat this?” Yuan Anqing asked.

The big monster nodded eagerly, its tail thumping the ground.

Bai Tian, watching the live feed from the helicopter: “…He literally looted all of that from my office desk yesterday.”

“Well, at least we don’t have to worry about the Savior starving,” the guard said, relieved. “Even though Zhuo has lost his mind, he still remembered to feed his human.”