As the front door opened, something wet and slippery slithered through the crack. When Song Nanxing got a clear look at it, his eyelid twitched violently—
It was a tentacle, unmistakably belonging to a cephalopod he was all too familiar with. The blue appendage was lined with two neat rows of suction cups, each cup wide open to reveal sharp, overlapping teeth along the rims. The tentacles were writhing in a frenzy, tightly coiled around a humanoid creature.
“Humanoid” only in the vaguest sense—because Song Nanxing honestly couldn’t tell if it was human or something entirely different.
It had a torso and limbs that resembled a human’s, but its skin was an ashen gray-blue, and its head was shaped like a triangle—amphibian-like. Its hands and feet were webbed, its bulging eyes were jet black without any whites, and its mouth was wide, with an obscenely long tongue hanging out—thick, forked at the tip, and lashing wildly.
The banging noises Song Nanxing had heard earlier while coming upstairs must’ve been from this thing—its powerful tongue striking the tentacles in a futile attempt to escape.
Even a layman like Song Nanxing could see the power gap between the two. The frog-headed creature’s tongue attacks had no real impact on the thick, muscular tentacles. They had already stuffed its entire lower body into a hard, beak-like mouth located beneath the tentacle mass. The thing was being chewed with loud crunch-crunch sounds, like Song Nanxing gnawing on chicken feet—only far more efficient.
Song Nanxing: “……”
Remembering all the disrespectful things he’d ever done to octopuses, Song Nanxing expressionlessly—yet very cautiously—closed the door.
Inside the living room, the little octopus who had been happily gorging itself suddenly sensed something wrong. It caught a whiff of a familiar, beloved scent, instantly tossed aside the half-eaten takeout, and deftly curled a tentacle around the door handle. Slipping out through the door crack, it darted after Song Nanxing in an attempt to stop him from leaving.
But Song Nanxing was prepared. He nimbly dodged the reaching tentacle, eyeing the not-so-cute-anymore octopus warily—it had grown far too large.
Sensing his hostility and rejection, the little octopus wiggled its tentacles in confusion—until it noticed the bright red blood staining its beautiful blue limbs. Then it suddenly understood.
Whoosh! It immediately retracted its tentacle, quickly wiping the blood clean. Only then did it cautiously stretch its limb back toward Song Nanxing—giving it a little shake, as if proudly showing off how clean it was now.
The entire sequence of movements was smooth and expressive. Even without a single word exchanged, Song Nanxing understood perfectly what it was trying to say.
“……”
He had never been so speechless in his life.
For a moment, he even began to question himself—why was everyone else drawn to cuddly cats and loyal dogs… while he ended up with a mollusk?
He sank into a deep existential crisis.
The little octopus watched Song Nanxing’s ever-changing expressions, then cautiously inched closer, attempting to nudge its head forward for a pat—it still remembered how, on the first day it was brought home, Song Nanxing had loved stroking its head.
Song Nanxing stared blankly at the giant octopus head moving in closer.
He struggled to find the right words, doing his best to politely decline.
“I don’t really plan on keeping a pet right now…”
He gestured with his hands
“You’re so big—you should go back to the ocean. The sea’s full of water, you can swim freely there…”
Then he pointed toward Room 301, where the frog-headed creature was still twitching in its death throes.
“And there isn’t much food here that’s… suitable for you.”
Song Nanxing’s voice was very pleasant. The little octopus waved its limbs gently as it listened. Though human language was still a bit complicated for it, it managed to pick up on the key points:
Too big. Not liked.
Its limited understanding of human knowledge told it that humans seemed to prefer small and cute creatures.
So, it curled up its eight arms and deftly shrank its body, transforming into the size of a ping-pong ball. Then, wiggling its limbs, it climbed right onto the top of Song Nanxing’s foot.
Expressionless, Song Nanxing looked down at the miniature version of the octopus.
Now tiny, the little octopus appeared round-headed and plump. Its mushroom-shaped head and slender limbs had turned into a beautiful translucent blue, making it look like a gently pulsating blue jelly.
But no matter how cute or pretty it looked now, it couldn’t erase the image of it just moments ago—ravenously devouring the frog-headed creature raw!
Song Nanxing let out a sigh.
“You can’t let anyone else see you.”
The little octopus seemed to understand. It happily waved its limbs in agreement, then firmly latched itself to the top of Song Nanxing’s foot.
Song Nanxing gave it a glance, then pushed open the door to Room 301 once more.
At the end of the hallway, a puppet quietly poked its head out from behind the wall. Its pitch-black, hollow eyes locked jealously onto the little octopus clinging to Song Nanxing’s foot. Wooden fingers clawed furiously at the floor, gouging several long scratches into the wood.
So jealous, so jealous, so jealous…
*****
The frog-headed creature had already been eaten halfway, and what remained was somehow still alive. When it saw Song Nanxing come in, it let out a threatening gugua croak, splitting its mouth open all the way to the ears, tongue coiled and ready to strike.
Song Nanxing had already witnessed how dangerous that tongue could be, so he didn’t get too close. Instead, he wiggled the tip of his foot and asked, “Where did you catch it?”
Song Nanxing had spoken so much to it today!
Delighted, the little octopus happily waved its limbs, then shamelessly climbed up Song Nanxing’s pant leg all the way to his shoulder. One of its arms pointed downward.
“You caught it right here?” Song Nanxing’s expression turned thoughtful.
So it seemed that ever since he left the little octopus in Room 301, it hadn’t left. Most likely, this frog-headed creature had barged into 301 and just happened to be caught by it.
Which raised the real question: What was the frog-headed creature doing in Room 301?
After some thought, Song Nanxing figured it probably had something to do with Wu Mengyu. The state she was in clearly wasn’t just a result of ordinary mental contamination.
Unless… someone had deliberately turned her into that.
But who would do something like that?
Song Nanxing’s gaze swept back and forth across the half-eaten body of the frog-headed creature, and he thought of the statue he had taken out from Wu Mengyu’s body.
Lowering his eyes to look at the creature, he softly asked, “Did Song Cheng send you?”
The frog-headed creature let out a guttural croak, its throat vibrating with a sound disturbingly similar to a frog’s. Malice filled its bulging, compound eyes. With a powerful slam of its front limbs on the floor, it suddenly attempted to leap at Song Nanxing in attack.
Before Song Nanxing could react, the little octopus on his shoulder launched forward in a fury. Its long, muscular tentacle whipped out like a slap and smacked the creature hard against the wall.
The frog-headed creature slid down the wall—this time, completely unable to move.
As the little octopus flailed its limbs proudly like it was seeking praise, Song Nanxing’s eye twitched—but still, he complimented it: “Nice aim.”
Encouraged by the praise, the little octopus immediately turned around and gave the frog-headed creature another fierce thrashing.
Flat on its back, the creature’s gills puffed in and out, its bulging eyes wide with hatred. But it no longer had the strength to fight back.
Song Nanxing noticed a burn-like scar at the spot where its heart should be.
It was a circular mark, like a branded imprint. It looked oddly familiar to him—he felt sure he had seen it somewhere before, but no matter how hard he searched his memory, he couldn’t recall exactly where.
He pulled out his phone and said to the little octopus, “Keep it from moving. I’m going to take a picture.”
The little octopus obediently pressed the frog-headed creature down with its limbs, pinning it tightly to the ground.
Song Nanxing finally felt safe enough to approach and snapped a photo of the brand on the frog-headed man’s chest.
Once he was done, he called Han Zhi to report what had happened in 301. The frog-headed creature was dangerous—possibly contagious. If it were left there unattended and accidentally harmed a neighbor, that would be a disaster.
Han Zhi had only just brought back the bodies of Wu Mengyu and Xu Cai to the bureau.
Because the medical center’s transport van had been hijacked and several severely contaminated patients had gone missing, the entire Special Administration Bureau was swamped.
When he got Song Nanxing’s call, his temples throbbed violently. Before Song Nanxing could speak, he cut in, “Don’t say anything yet—let me take a few deep breaths first.”
Song Nanxing obediently replied with an “Oh,” and waited.
A moment later, Han Zhi said, “Okay, go ahead.”
Song Nanxing told him everything about the frog-headed creature in 301.
Han Zhi’s mind buzzed like a beehive. He had a thousand questions, but in the end, all he said was, “Got it. I’ll bring a team right over. Stay put.”
After hanging up, Song Nanxing looked at the little octopus with a troubled expression and murmured, “How am I even supposed to explain you…”
The little octopus didn’t understand, of course. It just wriggled closer, snuggling up against Song Nanxing’s shoulder, its eight arms quivering in satisfaction.
About twenty minutes later, Han Zhi arrived.
He first had his team search the scene again, then wrapped up the frog-headed man’s body and took it away.
Before leaving, he finally asked, “What were you doing in 301? And what’s the deal with that thing?”
Song Nanxing had mentally prepared himself. Without flinching, he said, “I heard fighting coming from 301 when I came back. It seemed odd, so I went to check. The door was wide open, and that monster was half-eaten, lying inside.”
He mixed just enough truth with falsehood and cautiously probed, “That thing… was it human? Or…?”
Han Zhi took out a cigarette and clenched it between his teeth, grinding the filter for a long time before finally saying, “It used to be human.”
That caught Song Nanxing off guard. He looked disbelieving. “You mean those patients with extreme contamination? But the Preventive Health Center’s public report said…”
“That mental contamination can be controlled and cured?” Han Zhi chuckled bitterly. “If they didn’t say that, people would be too scared to even leave their homes. Society would fall apart.”
Seeing Song Nanxing still looking dazed, he patted him on the shoulder and added reassuringly, “But it’s not all bad. Some infected turn into monsters… but a few, they become…”
He hesitated, struggling to find the right word, then finally said, “…superhuman. Just like in the movies, you know? Superheroes saving the world.”
Song Nanxing didn’t offer a clear opinion. He just replied, “Oh,” then looked at Han Zhi with curiosity. “So… are you a superhero too?”
Han Zhi smiled. “I wish I were. Then I could do a lot more. But not everyone can be one.”
He was much older than Song Nanxing, and when he smiled, the crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes were deeply etched.
Looking at him, Song Nanxing suddenly felt like he was being treated like a junior. After a moment of thought, he said sincerely, “Being an ordinary person who brings a bit of light into the world is pretty lucky too.”
Han Zhi’s smile widened. He patted Song Nanxing on the shoulder again and said, “Thanks for the tip. It’s getting late. Go home and get some rest. I have to head back to the bureau.”
After parting with Han Zhi, Song Nanxing went upstairs to his apartment.
As he was unlocking his door, the one to 402 suddenly opened.
A well-dressed man stepped out. Upon seeing Song Nanxing, he smiled and pulled out an old-fashioned puppet. “Is this yours? I found it in the hallway. Since no one was home, I kept it for safekeeping. I was just thinking of asking property management for your contact info, but what a coincidence to run into you like this.”
Song Nanxing stared at the familiar puppet in the man’s hand, his eyelid twitching. “You are…?”
“Ah, sorry for not introducing myself. I just moved in today. I’m Shen Du.”
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Ooo ML?