Zhou Xuan picked up the clothes folded to the side and walked toward the consultation room at the end of the corridor. As he passed by a Special Operations Bureau member, the person was clearly startled, dodging to the side with exaggerated movements.
Zhou Xuan paused, apologetically glancing at him: “Sorry.”
The other man, realizing his rudeness, flushed and looked embarrassed, but still dared not let his eyes linger on Zhou Xuan’s terrifying spider half.
Zhou Xuan considerately said nothing more, heading deeper into the corridor to change.
Song Nanxing greeted Xin Zechuan and walked toward the consultation room where Shen Du was.
As he passed, two team members had just lowered a cocoon and were cutting it open. Seeing the half-melted corpse inside, both gasped.
“Already half eaten…”
One of them glanced down the corridor and whispered, “People like that—are they still human?”
Noticing Song Nanxing looking over, the two quickly fell silent and said no more.
Song Nanxing used his key to open the consultation room door. Shen Du and Xu Lai were still unconscious from the medication.
He went over and half-pulled Shen Du out from under the desk. Maybe the movement was too much, because the sleeping man twitched and weakly opened his eyes.
Song Nanxing touched his forehead—it was still burning. The physical discomfort made Shen Du’s breathing rapid, but thanks to the lingering effect of the sedative, he could only lean limply in Song Nanxing’s arms, half-opening his eyes to look at him.
“It’s okay, support has arrived. We’ll be at the Mental Health Center soon.” Song Nanxing soothed him gently, helping him into a chair.
At this point, Zhou Xuan, now dressed, came in from outside, carrying Xu Lai.
The sedative’s effect was wearing off. Xu Lai slowly woke up, leaning weakly in Zhou Xuan’s arms, softly calling, “Teacher Zhou.”
Zhou Xuan patted him reassuringly and asked gently, “How do you feel?”
Xu Lai shook his head with eyes closed, burying his face in Zhou Xuan’s chest and giving a soft whimper, “Uncomfortable.”
Zhou Xuan shifted his grip to hold him more securely and said to Song Nanxing, “I’ll take Xu Lai down first, then come back to help you.”
Song Nanxing shook his head, letting Shen Du lie on his back: “I’ll carry him down myself.”
After settling everyone in the car, Song Nanxing and Zhou Xuan helped Xin Zechuan’s team do a thorough sweep of the Community Hospital, making sure there were no stragglers. Then, escorted by two police cars, they entered the Nei Cheng District and hurried to the Mental Health Center.
In the middle of the night, the center was still a hive of activity. Doctors and nurses in thick protective suits bustled about, with armed police officers patrolling in between.
Seeing two more patients arrive under police escort, the nurse quickly called for stretchers to carry them in, giving instructions as she went: “First, a mental health screening, then an abdominal ultrasound. Be sure to use restraint straps on the patients…”
Song Nanxing and Zhou Xuan were blocked outside, waiting anxiously.
“This round of contamination seems to be very widespread,” Song Nanxing said softly.
On the way here, he had seen the eastern side of Nei Cheng District ablaze with lights, police cars all around, sirens never stopping. He had no idea how many people had been contaminated this time.
Zhou Xuan’s phone kept vibrating. He glanced at the messages, his expression growing grimmer: “It’s not just one batch of seafood that’s problematic—it’s all seafood that may be contaminated. Nearly half the residents in one Nei Cheng District neighborhood have been affected. And according to internal data, the symptoms of this mass outbreak are very similar to the abilities of a severely contaminated patient who was previously abducted.”
Song Nanxing froze: “It’s man-made?”
He thought of that intelligent Frog-headed Person larva.
If this mass contamination wasn’t a random accident but a deliberate act, then the entire situation was even more serious and malicious.
Zhou Xuan didn’t answer, just put away his phone and looked over at Xu Lai, who was lying on a stretcher in line for examination. He handed the car keys to Song Nanxing: “Chu Captain’s urging me to head over—things can’t be delayed anymore. Xu Lai’s timid. If he wakes up and I’m not there, he might get scared. Please look after him for me.”
Song Nanxing took the keys: “Be careful.”
Zhou Xuan waved and strode out.
Song Nanxing waited alone in the corridor for an hour before a nurse called him over: “The test results are out. Fortunately, neither of them have parasitic eggs inside, but there is mild mental contamination. The numbers aren’t high—just avoid polluted environments and take medication as prescribed for now. You can pick up your medicine and go home.”
“So soon?” Song Nanxing had thought they’d have to stay at least one night.
“If they stay here overnight, their contamination levels will spike. As long as there are no parasitic eggs, they can go home to recover,” the nurse said, pointing to the long line of patients waiting for tests.
Those people had relatively mild symptoms, but all looked listless and pale.
Shen Du and Xu Lai soon came out. The sedative had fully worn off, and they could move freely again. Aside from flushed faces from the fever, they seemed in decent shape.
Song Nanxing greeted Shen Du and glanced at Xu Lai, who looked lost and uncertain. He explained, “Zhou Xuan had an urgent matter and left first. He asked you to come home with us.”
“Shen Du and I live right below your floor.”
Just as Zhou Xuan had said, Xu Lai was indeed very reserved. He glanced up at Song Nanxing, nodded slightly, and softly said, “Thank you.”
Remembering Zhou Xuan’s instructions, Song Nanxing couldn’t help but be extra attentive: “How are you feeling? Anywhere uncomfortable?”
Xu Lai quickly shook his head, looking like a frightened little animal, head down and hands twisting together.
Seeing this, Song Nanxing didn’t push further, not wanting to scare him. He prepared to go to the pharmacy window to get the medicine. But suddenly, his shoulder felt heavy—Shen Du leaned over, his hot breath on Song Nanxing’s neck: “Dizzy… a little nauseous.”
Song Nanxing quickly steadied him: “Do you want to throw up?”
Shen Du shook his head weakly: “I’ll be fine after a bit.”
The main hall was packed, with no empty seats. Song Nanxing could only support him, letting him lean against him to rest.
Shen Du sniffed his scent, glancing at the silent Xu Lai nearby.
After a few minutes, he stood up again, looking a little embarrassed: “Sorry to trouble you. I’m much better now.”
Seeing that his color had improved, Song Nanxing went to get the medicine and took both patients home.
The road from Nei Cheng District to the Outer District was much smoother.
Back at the apartment complex, Song Nanxing took Xu Lai to the fifth floor first, watching him enter his apartment before heading down with Shen Du.
At the door of 402, Song Nanxing handed the medicine bag to Shen Du: “The dosage is written on the box—make sure to take the two types half an hour apart.”
Shen Du said “Okay,” but as he reached for the bag, he missed, and the boxes scattered all over the floor.
He hurried to squat down and pick them up, but his body wobbled.
Startled, Song Nanxing quickly supported him, gathered the medicine, and grew even more worried: “Still dizzy?”
Shen Du forced a smile: “A bit, maybe the fever hasn’t gone down yet, but it’s not a big deal. I’ll rest and be fine.”
Song Nanxing touched his forehead, feeling it was even hotter than before. Growing more uneasy, he grabbed the medicine bag and helped Shen Du toward his own apartment: “Forget it, stay at my place tonight.”
Seeing Shen Du about to protest, Song Nanxing cut him off: “I’m not comfortable letting you stay alone when you’re like this. At my place, at least I can look after you.”
Shen Du obediently shut his mouth and followed him inside.
Since he still had a fever, Song Nanxing didn’t let Shen Du shower, just found a set of his own unworn pajamas for him: “It’s too late and tidying up the guest room is too much trouble. Just sleep in my room tonight. I’ll crash on the couch. If you feel unwell, call me—don’t worry about bothering me.”
Shen Du said, “It’s a 1.8-meter bed, both of us can fit.”
Song Nanxing shook his head: “I got an emergency notice. I have to work tomorrow morning—won’t disturb you.”
Seeing his resolve, Shen Du didn’t argue. He took his medicine, changed into pajamas, and lay down in Song Nanxing’s bed.
Song Nanxing waited for him to settle, then closed the door and went to the living room.
In the living room, the Little Octopus was perched on the Puppet’s head. Hearing him come out, both poked their heads out from behind the shelf to look at him.
Song Nanxing pinched the Little Octopus’s tentacle and tossed it back into the tank, then picked up the Puppet and set it on the shelf to pose as an ornament. He lowered his voice and warned them, “No running around. Don’t let the guest see you, got it?”
The Puppet tilted its head slightly, its black hole eyes looking a bit blank.
The Little Octopus rolled around in the tank, its arms splashing water.
Song Nanxing took their response as agreement. After a quick shower, he went to sleep on the sofa.
In the bedroom, Shen Du buried his face in the pillow, nose twitching as he inhaled the lingering scent.
Wrapped in the familiar scent he liked, he recalled the hospital scene.
Under the thin blanket, a tentacle couldn’t help but stretch out, sliding over the soft sheets. The Chenghua Arm, with its bitten-off tip, was especially lively: “Got bitten. Regret. Lied.”
“So fierce.” Another tentacle lifted, the soft flesh at the center of its sucker still bearing a fading knife scar.
“About to miss the timing.”
“Need to mate.”
“Hurry up, can’t wait.”
“…….”
Annoyed by the fluctuating voices in the neural ring, Shen Du frowned and blocked them out, squinting as he recalled the moment the tentacle entered the other’s mouth—
When the other parted his lips, his eyes shimmered with tears.
But the next moment, that fragile look turned cold, his gaze sharper than a blade. When the tip of the Chenghua Arm was bitten off, along with the pain came another sensation he’d never felt before—an excited thrill.
More addictive than following instinct.
You need to up your game if you have to mate so much, Shen Du