EDEH Chapter 48

“How did you learn to act spoiled?”

 

Huo Yanji hadn’t said this to Sang Jue for a long time. He used to say “don’t act spoiled” often when they first met.

 

Near curfew time, the streets were empty. Occasionally someone would suddenly appear, hurrying home while cursing: “Damn Huo Yanji, damn curfew—”

 

Before Huo Yanji could react, Sang Jue, who was hugging his waist, suddenly popped his head out: “You’re the one who should die!”

 

“…”

 

The passerby didn’t know who Sang Jue was, but recognized Huo Yanji’s military uniform and ran away as if seeing a ghost.

 

“Let’s go, home.”

 

Huo Yanji walked two steps, but Sang Jue didn’t follow.

 

He turned back to see Sang Jue’s eyes clear and bright. Though he didn’t look aggrieved, he was like a lotus root with silk threads—impossible to abandon or give up.

 

Sang Jue asked: “Can I not rent a house and live at your place?”

 

Huo Yanji said: “Yes.”

 

Sang Jue immediately ran over and grabbed Huo Yanji’s hand: “Then let’s go back quickly, I can’t hold it in anymore.”

 

The two walked on the street, facing the evening breeze.

 

Huo Yanji asked: “What can’t you hold in?”

 

Sang Jue said: “My tail, it really wants to come out.”

 

Huo Yanji said flatly: “Hold it in.”

 

Sang Jue took small steps: “I’ve been holding it in for a long time. It wanted to come out when I was at the tavern.”

 

Huo Yanji’s eyes flickered slightly: “Your tail wants to come out when you drink?”

 

Sang Jue nodded hesitantly.

 

It seemed to be like that. He vaguely remembered the first time he went to old Karl’s tavern, it was also after drinking that when he got to old Karl’s house, he couldn’t control himself a bit.

 

Not just his tail—his horns and wings all wanted to come out. He even wanted to turn back into an evil dragon, find a place to curl up, roar a couple times, and sleep soundly.

 

But that would scare Ji Ji, so he had to hold it in.

 

Sang Jue said seriously: “Drinking causes trouble.”

 

Soon they returned to the apartment building. Huo Yanji led Sang Jue into the elevator: “Good that you know. No more drinking from now on.”

 

Sang Jue said: “But it tastes good.”

 

Huo Yanji pressed the button for the eleventh floor and turned to look at Sang Jue: “Then let’s compromise. From now on, only drink at home or when I’m present.”

 

Sang Jue made a sound: “Okay.”

 

The little drunk still reeked of alcohol, but it wasn’t unpleasant.

 

When they exited the elevator, Sang Jue was still lucid, but as soon as he entered the apartment, he suddenly went limp like he’d lost his bones and collapsed into Huo Yanji’s arms while he was still changing shoes.

 

Huo Yanji didn’t move, looking down: “Sang Jue.”

 

The little evil dragon usually might not be obedient, let alone a little drunk dragon.

 

His tail popped out with a swoosh, pushing his waistband down to a very low position, flexibly wrapping around Huo Yanji’s waist and pulling him toward the sofa.

 

“Sang Jue.”

 

The little evil dragon, who usually had the best hearing, seemed to hear nothing, stubbornly pressing Huo Yanji onto the sofa, then sitting on his legs: “There’s something I’ve wanted to do for a long time.”

 

Huo Yanji pinched the bridge of his nose, supporting Sang Jue’s swaying upper body: “What?”

 

Sang Jue’s head tilted as he stared intently at a certain spot.

 

Huo Yanji’s eyelid twitched. The moment Sang Jue leaned down, he instinctively lifted his chin: “No—”

 

His voice stopped abruptly.

 

The little evil dragon wasn’t interested in human lips, but he’d been interested in the Adam’s apple rolling up and down on the neck for a long time, like a cat fixated on a rolling ball.

 

So following his principle of doing whatever he wanted, the little evil dragon bit down.

 

Every muscle in the person beneath him instantly tensed. The hand that had been stained with countless monsters’ and infected people’s blood instantly gripped Sang Jue’s nape, but at the moment it was about to snap, it barely held back, becoming a stiff caress.

 

“Sang Jue, what are you doing?”

 

Sang Jue said unclearly: “I’m… biting you.”

 

“I can feel that.” Huo Yanji’s chin lifted slightly, looking down at the head at his neck. “Use a little more force and we can reunite in another world.”

 

Sang Jue gently ground the protruding Adam’s apple with his small fangs. When Huo Yanji spoke, it caused a humming resonance, very strange.

 

“Why?”

 

“I would die from infection, and you would be captured and executed for infecting me.”

 

Huo Yanji said this without looking tense, but every muscle and nerve in his body was in a state of instinctive tension, including the arm supporting Sang Jue’s waist. Under his neat, solemn military uniform, veins bulged.

 

Sang Jue was like a small wild animal that had finally bitten the vital spot of its prey, unwilling to let go easily.

 

“They can’t… catch me.”

 

“That’s good.” Huo Yanji’s eyes narrowed, his tone growing deeper. “Let go first.”

 

Sang Jue hummed a few times and continued biting.

 

Huo Yanji gave one final warning: “Sang Jue.”

 

Not only were there teeth grinding against his Adam’s apple, but also a wet tongue tip, perhaps intentional, perhaps accidental contact.

 

Huo Yanji suddenly gripped Sang Jue’s jaw, forcing him to release his teeth, then abruptly flipped him underneath—all in an instant.

 

The little evil dragon, whose position had suddenly switched, was still confused. He even touched his own small fangs, saying unhappily: “Why won’t you let me bite…”

 

Huo Yanji moved his hand away: “Sang Jue, your reading list should include a physiology book.”

 

Sang Jue mimicked his tone, muttering: “Sang Jue doesn’t like reading books.”

 

Their position was quite ambiguously intimate. Even though Sang Jue had let go, the wet heat on his Adam’s apple still lingered like a persistent affliction.

 

Sang Jue lay obediently on the sofa, his head pillowed on Huo Yanji’s hand.

 

Huo Yanji wanted to get up, but the tail around his waist was wrapped tightly, refusing to let go.

 

He asked: “Are you sleepy?”

 

Sang Jue answered immediately: “Not sleepy.”

 

Huo Yanji said flatly: “You should be sleepy.”

 

He picked up Sang Jue and walked into the bedroom. Just as he was about to put him on the bed, Sang Jue protested: “Can’t sleep without bathing, you’re not hygienic.”

 

Huo Yanji: “…”

 

Outside the safe zones, danger lurked everywhere. Some refugees hid in city ruins year-round, lacking food and clean water sources, let alone cleanliness.

 

Almost all the refugees Huo Yanji had seen had skin diseases.

 

Maintaining basic survival was already extremely difficult for them, with no attention to spare for other matters.

 

Sang Jue’s account of his background was full of holes—even Old Herman, who had only spent a day with him, could sense something was off about Sang Jue… but once you lowered your guard once, you could lower it countless times.

 

Huo Yanji walked into the bathroom, sat on the edge of the bathtub, and turned on the faucet. Sang Jue sat on one of his legs, his tail swishing behind him.

 

Huo Yanji looked calmly at Sang Jue’s clear eyes: “Really drunk?”

 

“Mm! Drunk.”

 

“How is it different from last time?”

 

Sang Jue only looked lucid on the surface; his brain had long turned to mush.

 

After thinking for a long time, he remembered last time was the bathing incident.

 

The bathtub water gurgled. Sang Jue frowned: “Are you going to make dragon wine to drink again?”

 

Huo Yanji: “…I don’t drink bathwater.”

 

Sang Jue said: “This isn’t bathwater, this is dragon wine.”

 

“…Executive officers have a prohibition order. No drinking during non-rest hours.”

 

“Oh.”

 

Finally having coaxed the drunk, Huo Yanji withdrew his leg, made Sang Jue stand properly, and said flatly: “Release your tail, or I’ll pinch it.”

 

Sang Jue immediately released his tail reflexively and stood obediently still.

 

“Take off your clothes yourself, get in and bathe, come out within ten minutes… I’ll go out before you undress.”

 

“Oh.” Sang Jue’s hands stopped undressing.

 

Huo Yanji repeated: “Finish bathing within ten minutes, put on pajamas, go to bed and sleep. Do you understand?”

 

Sang Jue nodded: “Understood.”

 

Huo Yanji went out, closed the bathroom door but didn’t lock it, leaving it ajar.

 

He entered the study, casually hanging his jacket aside, unbuttoning the first two buttons of his shirt to reveal his slender neck.

 

Sang Jue’s bite had been quite restrained. Given the sharpness of his small fangs, even a little more force could have drawn blood, but although the bite marks on his Adam’s apple were deep, they hadn’t broken the skin at all.

 

Huo Yanji slightly lifted his chin, raising his hand to stroke the area for a while, his expression unreadable.

 

After a moment, he made a call. The contact was labeled Hill.

 

“Do you remember that supervisor who was infected by forget-me-vines a few months ago?”

 

“I remember. What about it?”

 

“Can you tell me about it in detail?”

 

“At the time, he was infected by forget-me-vines in the wilderness and thought he was doomed, so he didn’t plan to return to the city and lacked the courage to end his own life. He didn’t expect to wander for a week without losing his sanity. Only then did he realize something was wrong, returned to the city and honestly reported his situation, then was sent to the research institute by an executive under you.”

 

“Because tests showed his genetic sequence was very unstable—meaning he could lose order at any time—he remained at the research institute as the only observation sample for plant gene fusion. Unfortunately, he only lasted two months before finally losing order… I had hoped for a breakthrough in plant contamination genes.”

 

Huo Yanji asked: “Did you mention in your research report that people who ‘failed genetic testing’ had a higher possibility of successfully fusing with wild contamination genes?”

 

The person on the other end paused for a long time before saying: “I did mention that this supervisor was someone who ‘failed genetic testing,’ but I only briefly described my doubts. I didn’t say the success rate was higher… You know, as a researcher, all my conclusions must be based on extensive research data.”

 

“I understand. Thank you.”

 

“Is there a problem?”

 

Huo Yanji didn’t hide it, saying flatly: “Recently, there have been numerous disappearances of people who ‘failed genetic testing’ in safe zones, not just in the main city—all safe zones are experiencing this.”

 

During the day, Wei Lan had roughly investigated the missing persons situation in the area.

 

This should have been done by supervisors, but Colin’s status had changed, Saiya had disappeared, and Huo Yanji’s other subordinates were all busy with their own matters. Several adjutants were overwhelmed because Huo Jiangmin had suddenly left the district.

 

Fortunately, Wei Lan was extremely efficient, contacting supervision bureaus in major safe zones in just one day.

 

Some strictly managed safe zones had indeed noticed, but in this world, people going missing wasn’t particularly strange, and they wouldn’t think of serial disappearances.

 

Other safe zones with chaotic security were somewhat confused—new bodies were found in the city every day, so they hadn’t even noticed residents were missing.

 

“You mean… someone thinks people who ‘failed genetic testing’ have a higher fusion probability, so they’re kidnapping large numbers of residents for research?”

 

“That’s possible.” Huo Yanji said calmly, “Other districts are unclear, but in my district and District 7, these types of resident disappearances only started appearing over three months ago.”

 

Hill was silent for a moment: “Right around the time I submitted my report after that sample lost order?”

 

Huo Yanji hummed: “Preliminary hypothesis—someone saw your report and was inspired.”

 

“One of our own people?”

 

Even when angry, Hill’s tone carried her characteristic gentleness: “Are they insane? If they really think people who failed genetic testing have higher fusion probability, they could easily recruit voluntary test subjects and start with blood experiments. What’s the point of kidnapping? This is a conclusion without data support—it will kill those people!”

 

“So I’d like you to quickly compile a list of personnel who accessed your report.”

 

“Can I have it by tomorrow morning?”

 

“Yes, but don’t make this public yet.”

 

“Understood.”

 

Hill knew the seriousness of this matter. Her submitted report had a basic security classification of “A.” Colonel rank and above, executives from major supervision bureaus, chief and deputy administrators of various safe zones, directors and deputy directors of major research institutes… including all underground city and Court personnel, all had the right to access her report.

 

In such a troublesome world, not only did they have to face external threats, but they also had to guard against internal backstabbing. It was truly difficult.

 

Huo Yanji paused and asked about another matter: “How is old Karl’s body?”

 

Mentioning this, Hill’s breathing suddenly became rapid. She slowly organized her words: “Although the reasons for these conditions are still unclear, many incredible things have happened.”

 

“Such as?”

 

“Such as—” Hill controlled her excited emotions, “the mushrooms growing from Mr. Karl’s body have no contamination—they’re just ordinary mushrooms. Do you understand? The kind that grew in mountains hundreds of years ago, continuing life through spore powder.”

 

This discovery was too shocking. The fact that mushrooms could grow from old Karl’s body meant they had infected him, using his flesh and blood as a cultivation chamber. Old Karl had clearly been infected by honey-guides while alive, making his body highly contaminated. Yet under such circumstances, the mushrooms growing from his flesh had no contamination.

 

Was this possible?

 

Was it a problem with old Karl’s genes, or with the mushrooms? Or did the honey-guide genes and mushroom genes neutralize each other’s contamination?

 

Under what circumstances had old Karl been infected by the mushrooms?

 

One question after another required extensive experimental data to refute one by one and find the most likely conclusion.

 

The discoveries on old Karl’s body were still classified, not suitable for disclosure without clear conclusions, as it could easily cause panic. However, Huo Yanji’s clearance level was extremely high—if he really wanted to check the progress, she couldn’t stop him.

 

Huo Yanji rolled up his sleeves and asked casually: “No clues at all?”

 

“Really no clues. This is the first time I’ve seen such a special infection case.”

 

Hill returned to her usual gentleness, “I’ll tell you when there’s a conclusion.”

 

“Good.”

 

After ending the call, Huo Yanji stood by the window for a while.

 

The lighthouse in the distance cast soft, warm light in the night, skyscrapers layered upon each other. Humans had spent nearly a century building the main city to its current scale and were still expanding.

 

Even compared to just five or six years ago, current human safe zones had undergone tremendous changes. Everything seemed to be developing in a positive direction.

 

But it was only “seemed.”

 

External contamination and rift riots were becoming increasingly serious, and harsh natural disasters were becoming more frequent—terrible storms, tsunamis, wildfires, volcanic eruptions, solar storms…

 

Besides these, there was also human opposition and internal strife.

 

It could be said they faced both internal and external troubles, with the situation in critical danger.

 

Huo Yanji withdrew his gaze and checked the time—ten minutes were up.

 

Sang Jue was very obedient this time. After bathing, he had properly put on pajamas and was sitting cross-legged on the bed, his tail wrapped around his knees in front of him.

 

Huo Yanji asked: “Why aren’t you sleeping?”

 

“Waiting for you,” Sang Jue said seriously. “Otherwise you’d go sleep with the sofa again.”

 

Huo Yanji said: “I still need to wash up, which will take a long time.”

 

Sang Jue said: “It’s okay, I can wait.”

 

“…”

 

The sound of water gradually rose in the bathroom. Warm water flowed over his solid, tall body. Huo Yanji closed his eyes, the sensation of being bitten on his Adam’s apple still vivid.

 

After a long while, he let out his first sigh ever, barely audible.

 

Seeing Huo Yanji come out, Sang Jue said: “You were so fast.”

 

Huo Yanji handed Sang Jue two sticky notes: “What are these?”

 

He had found them in the dirty clothes basket after bathing.

 

Sang Jue made a sound—he had almost forgotten about this. He slowly blinked: “Do you remember the day you gave me the communicator?”

 

Huo Yanji’s eyes flickered slightly, immediately guessing: “Yu Ren?”

 

Sang Jue was somewhat unhappy.

 

Huo Yanji asked: “Why did you stop talking?”

 

Sang Jue was like a jealous little lover: “Why do you remember his name? You promised me you wouldn’t like females—is it because you like males?”

 

“…No.”

 

“Then I need to revise our agreement.” Sang Jue spoke slowly but with clear logic. “You’re not allowed to have females you like, and no males either… otherwise I’ll tie you up and take you away to be my bed pillow.”

 

Young men’s thoughts were so changeable.

 

Last time he said he’d eat him, now he wanted to tie him up and take him away.

 

Huo Yanji said: “Alright.”

 

Sang Jue said: “You’re also not allowed to go into other people’s dreams.”

 

“?” Huo Yanji genuinely didn’t understand this sentence and casually agreed. He patiently asked: “Now can you tell me about the sticky notes?”

 

Sang Jue slowly hummed: “Yu Ren died, and the sticky notes were on his wall. I secretly took them down. Don’t tell Old He.”

 

Sang Jue vaguely remembered Old He mentioning that it was immoral for organizers to steal deceased people’s belongings. This had happened before—an organizer had pocketed all the gold from a deceased person’s home and sold it.

 

Huo Yanji made a light promise: “I won’t tell.”

 

He looked at the content of the sticky notes, thoughtful.

 

[They say they want to change the highest executive officer… I’m somewhat uneasy. How to change?]

 

Huo Yanji held dual positions—both army general and highest executive officer of supervisors. It wouldn’t be easy to shake his position unless he made some irreparable major error.

 

The fastest way to replace him would be to kill him, and naturally someone new would take his place.

 

But neither of Yu Ren’s sticky notes had time stamps, so it wasn’t clear when they were written.

 

Was it before or after the explosion accident?

 

Timing was crucial.

 

If it was before the accident, it meant the mastermind behind the accident ten days ago was very likely the low-level deviant group. But if it was written after the accident, it meant the accident had another mastermind, while the low-level deviant group was plotting to murder Huo Yanji.

 

But regardless of which it was, the cause of Yu Ren’s death became very meaningful.

 

Was his death accidental, or was he killed because he wanted to report something?

 

Huo Yanji put down the sticky notes and asked flatly: “Did anything else happen today?”

 

On the way home earlier, Sang Jue’s phrase “very lonely” had been unusually abrupt, completely different from his previously carefree attitude.

 

“Mm… many things happened. Yu Ren still remembered that day when I complimented his scales, so he left me some scales as a gift. Also, Lu Tiancong, who lived in the hospital room next to me on the first day you brought me back to the main city, committed suicide.”

 

Huo Yanji had heard about this.

 

Sang Jue’s tail naturally rested in Huo Yanji’s palm, lying there obediently: “He died painfully and alone.”

 

“In the current environment, everyone is lonely or on the road to becoming lonely.” Huo Yanji said calmly, “So you need to be strong. Even if everyone around you is gone, you must live well.”

 

Sang Jue didn’t speak for a long time.

 

He said quietly: “Then it wouldn’t be happy.”

 

Being with the doctor was happy, and being with Huo Yanji was also joyful. If there was no happiness, there would be no meaning in living.

 

Meaning… Sang Jue tilted his head. He used to think only humans would foolishly search for the meaning of living.

 

Huo Yanji suddenly asked: “Sang Jue, was your previous life very easy?”

 

Sang Jue thought about it and hummed in agreement.

 

Huo Yanji: “Then why did you leave that easy environment to come outside?”

 

Sang Jue said: “Because of the doctor…”

 

Sang Jue stopped talking again.

 

This was the second time he’d heard about the doctor. Huo Yanji didn’t press further: “Aren’t you sleepy? Sleep.”

 

Sang Jue’s worries came and went quickly.

 

He very consciously sat on Huo Yanji’s body, purely and without any ulterior motives, urging: “Why aren’t you lying down?”

 

“…” Huo Yanji said, “The bed is big. You can sleep on the other side hugging a pillow.”

 

Sang Jue said directly: “Pillows aren’t as comfortable as you.”

 

Huo Yanji: “…Sleep.”

 

With a koala clinging to his body, it was really difficult to fall asleep.

 

Huo Yanji lifted one hand to handle work matters. Yu Ren’s cause of death needed investigation, but the city’s destruction of corpses was always swift—his body had probably already turned to ash. They could only check if there was surveillance at the death location.

 

Additionally, the missing Saiya and hostages had been confirmed to have taken the waterway, with their boat passing through shelters in southern city ruins before disappearing without trace.

 

Sang Jue suddenly whispered: “Can’t sleep?”

 

Huo Yanji said: “Not bad.”

 

“I can’t sleep either.” Sang Jue still hadn’t fully sobered up, speaking somewhat sluggishly. “Actually, I did something bad today.”

 

Huo Yanji: “What?”

 

Sang Jue leaned close to Huo Yanji’s ear, as if telling a secret: “I made a stinky man’s keys fall into a drainage ditch.”

 

“How?”

 

“Not telling you. I’ll demonstrate for you later.”

 

The breath against his ear was too obvious to ignore.

 

Huo Yanji turned his head away and changed his mind: “Sang Jue, you’d better sleep alone.”

 

Sang Jue: “Why? Are you going to Shiwei’s dreams?”

 

“Who is Shiwei?”

 

“My colleague. She said you’re her dream lover—” Sang Jue added, “only ranked second.”

 

“I won’t go to her dreams.”

 

Huo Yanji spoke while supporting Sang Jue’s waist to sit up: “I still have work to handle. Sleep alone tonight, okay?”

 

Sang Jue blinked, seeming to digest his words.

 

Something was pressing against him. His tail swaying behind him wasn’t behaving, poking at it with its barbed tip: “It’s hard, what is this?”

 

“Something that easily makes mistakes—” Huo Yanji’s voice was low and hoarse, “Sang Jue, move your tail away.”

 

**

 

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