Thank you @xxhappyforeverxx for the kofi.
Infinite Train
Chapter 686: Lost and found
On the negative ninth floor of the cruise ship.
In the corridor, the light was dim and heavy. On the floor, a massive gash lay open. It stretched across the walls and cut right through the ground, almost tearing the entire corridor in half.
Below the fissure lay a pitch-black, bottomless space.
No one knew just how deep it was or what hid beneath.
“………………”
The hideous thorns hung in the air, suspended just at the upper edge of the fissure.
The narrow space was dead silent. All around, the air was oppressive and stagnant, as if time itself had turned into a flowing, tangible entity.
Just then, a ding suddenly came from the elevator not far away.
Accompanied by the screech of decaying metal, the elevator doors slowly opened, revealing a tall silhouette.
Hugo slowly stepped out.
His face was expressionless, his eyes cold and as dead as ashes. Even so, when his gaze landed on the figure in the middle of the corridor, Hugo couldn’t help but show a trace of astonishment:
“……Ye Lin?”
Ye Lin’s gaze shifted. His emotionless eyes landed on Hugo, and he merely gave a symbolic nod in response.
“You’ve recovered your original appearance? …No.”
Hugo scanned the other’s appearance, which had not yet been eroded by the side effects of his talent. His gaze paused for a second on the cracks on his body. Suddenly realizing something, he frowned and said:
“A vessel?”
“Mm.” Ye Lin responded coldly.
Hugo’s gaze flickered for a moment.
He glanced around, recovering his calm in the blink of an eye, and almost immediately focused his attention on the reality that truly needed addressing: “Where is Pinocchio?”
“He fell down.”
The thorns hovering above the fissure slowly and softly retracted. From the hollows of Ye Lin’s vessel, Dan Zhu’s voice rang out.
“……Fell down?” A crack appeared in Hugo’s calm expression. He stared fixedly at Ye Lin and Dan Zhu not far away, asking coldly, “What do you mean?”
“Literally what it means.”
Dan Zhu’s voice concealed a chill.
—Just a little bit more.
Just a little bit more, and she would have caught Pinocchio.
However, she truly hadn’t expected that the other party would make such an unimaginably reckless choice at that critical juncture… It was practically suicide!
“What’s down there?” Hugo asked.
Dan Zhu said gloomily: “I don’t know.”
These fissures were created when the cruise ship collapsed. The darkness within was another space entirely—unknowable, undetectable, and impossible to penetrate. Even as the proxy captain of the cruise ship, Dan Zhu knew absolutely nothing about what existed down there.
It could be said that Wen Jianyan had perfectly chosen the one place none of them could reach, and then pitched headfirst right into it.
“I can’t find where he is now.” The composure from earlier was entirely gone from Dan Zhu’s voice, replaced instead by a bone-chilling fury. “And to be honest, even if I knew where he was, I wouldn’t have the means to drag him out.”
“Perhaps he’s already dead,” Ye Lin suddenly spoke, saying it with an indifferent tone.
“No, impossible,” Dan Zhu categorically refuted.
If Pinocchio were dead, she would be the first to know—not to mention the Tarot Reader with his prophetic abilities, even Nightmare, whose forces had been excluded from this ship, wouldn’t be this quiet.
“……”
Hugo didn’t say a word. He lowered his eyes, his gaze falling into that abyss, pondering who knows what.
“However, it’s not as if there’s absolutely no way.”
Suddenly, Dan Zhu changed the subject.
Hugo’s eyes flickered, and he looked up at Dan Zhu not far away:
“……What?”
“First, we have to accept reality… Under the current circumstances, catching Pinocchio is already an impossibility.”
In just a few short minutes, Dan Zhu’s voice seemed to have recovered its usual softness and charm—she was just the same as always: flexible, fickle, shrewd, and worldly.
“Since that’s the case, we have no choice but to change our strategy…”
“Previously, this ship kept Nightmare out. I was happy to see that happen, so I never stepped in to change anything. But looking at it now, without Nightmare joining in, this deadlock cannot be broken… Once the initiative is taken by the other side, we’ll lose the entire game.”
Hugo’s expression gradually darkened: “You want to cooperate with Nightmare again?”
“Yes,” Dan Zhu replied with a smile, feeling no impropriety at all regarding the shift in her stance. “Don’t worry, your brief defection won’t bring any consequences—besides, since you could cooperate with me before, you can continue to cooperate with Nightmare after, right?”
This was precisely what a “bottom line” meant.
Take one step back, and you’ll take a step back every time.
“……”
Hugo didn’t reply. He merely stared dead at Dan Zhu, his eyes shifting unpredictably.
“Sigh, you really are an old-fashioned stick-in-the-mud as always. People should learn to be more adaptable if they want to live long,” Dan Zhu chuckled lightly, seemingly indifferent to his lack of cooperation. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter whether you participate in what comes next or not.”
Blood-red vines were held within the damaged vessel, and blood-red flowers bloomed silently.
Extremely dangerous, and extremely bewitching.
“I alone am enough.”
Wen Jianyan had never expected that every lie he had woven before, every empty check he had written, would come back to bite him at this exact moment and in this exact form.
And so, the evildoer finally met his Waterloo.
The world was left entirely behind.
In this corner seemingly forgotten by the universe, no matter how chaotic or mad the events occurring were, no one knew, no one perceived.
In the darkness, time died away, and all sound ceased. Only an endless, boundless chaos remained.
Wen Jianyan almost had the illusion that he was a sponge soaked full of water.
He was being ruthlessly and cruelly wrung out and demanded from. Water continuously seeped from every pore, seemingly inexhaustible. However, every time he thought he couldn’t possibly be squeezed or sucked dry any further, he would always realize with extreme terror—
He was wrong.
Wen Jianyan had always prided himself on his strong endurance. After all, in past instances, no matter how severe his injuries were, he had always gritted his teeth and endured them. Not to mention it didn’t affect his strategic performance, it hadn’t even slowed his escape by half a step.
However, human endurance always had its limits.
When the stimulation, forcibly driven up time and time again from every angle, every position, and by every method, was limitlessly pushed and stacked, it had already reached a terrifying level that far exceeded the limits his nerves could bear.
“I can’t, I really can’t anymore…”
In the darkness, the young man crawled away trembling. From the shadows, a large, knuckle-distinct hand reached out without warning, effortlessly gripping the slender, pale ankle covered in deep and shallow bite marks. With just a slight exertion of force, it simply dragged him right back.
“Why can’t you?” Wu Zhu lowered his head. His ice-cold, black long hair fell down, tangling with the pure white skin. His voice was low and hoarse, carrying an unconcealable heat.
On the tense neck of the person in his arms, he pressed one kiss after another: “You clearly haven’t finished teaching me everything you promised…”
“Wu, Wu Zhu, I ** you ***! ***!” Wen Jianyan cursed at him, his voice hoarse, his breath broken, tears swirling in his eye sockets. The moment they overflowed even a little, they were immediately eaten completely clean.
The foot that kicked out was caught. The ice-cold palm pressed against the fiery, damp skin, their palm prints aligning and interlocking as if made by heaven.
Wen Jianyan lowered his head and, using all the strength in his body, bit down viciously onto Wu Zhu’s shoulder.
His teeth sank deeply into the tense, solid muscle texture.
Beneath his teeth, robust muscles and bones locked together, violently trembling amidst the tearing bite. The next second, fed by the human’s life force, the golden patterns subsequently erupted once again with terrifying, nearly inhuman explosive power.
The viscous, snake-like darkness climbed up, pressing deeply into the pale skin until everything was dyed a high-feverish red.
Until the victim trembled all over, no longer having the strength to curse.
In the frenzy, everything erupted and arrived.
After the storm was pushed to its absolute peak, all that was left were beasts tearing at bloody flesh.
The golden river of blood spreading across the pitch-black sky surged; golden sparks burst and trembled, and all order was subsequently destroyed, devoured, until it was eroded clean.
He forcibly swallowed all the fury and curses that were ready to burst forth, turned his head, and demanded exasperatedly: “Where are my clothes??”
Finally, the solidified darkness was no longer ferocious.
All around was dead silence, like still waters running deep.
It flowed softly and slowly, slowly engulfing the human it had imprisoned, flowing over the pale, trembling skin, greedily sucking dry the last trace of moisture.
“……”
The human young man’s eyes were half-open, his snow-white neck half-drooping like a dying swan. His pupils were still unfocused, yet they still shuddered when the shadow flowed over him.
Wu Zhu lowered his head, gathering his still-spasming body into his embrace. On his upper body, those fragmented golden patterns seemed to be slowly converging and vanishing bit by bit, no longer looking as shocking as they had at the start.
On his shoulders, arms, and chest, deep and shallow bite marks and scratches were scattered everywhere.
Wu Zhu meticulously rubbed against Wen Jianyan’s face, kissing his lips over and over again without tiring, making soft chu-chu sounds like a satiated large beast, his unconcealable affection overflowing.
Under his kisses, the unfocused light in Wen Jianyan’s eyes finally gradually gathered.
“You…”
He opened his mouth but failed to produce a sound on the first try.
Wen Jianyan gritted his teeth, rested for five minutes, and finally let out the first hoarse, trembling syllable, sounding almost entirely unlike his original voice:
“……Fck off.”
What “just eat a little,” what “won’t eat much”… all bullshit!
He pushed at Wu Zhu’s face, trying his hardest to pull away from him.
Being pushed away, Wu Zhu had no choice but to stop his kisses.
He lowered his eyes, his gaze landing on Wen Jianyan’s laid-bare body, heavily caressing his shoulder, which was covered in bite marks of varying depths.
“—?!”
The next second, Wen Jianyan seemed to suddenly feel something. His entire body jolted, and he lifted his head. His sweat-drenched hair stuck damply to his cheeks, the rims of his eyes were slightly red, and his light-colored pupils looked as if they had been soaked in water as he stared at the other in horror:
“……What are you doing?”
Wu Zhu licked his lower lip, revealing slightly sharp, snow-white teeth, his gaze clear and explicit.
“In your dreams!” Wen Jianyan’s pupils quaked.
Under the other’s gaze, which hadn’t lost its heat, the still-unfaded, vivid memories rushed back like a tide. His waist involuntarily sank, and he began to tremble from a genuine sense of crisis.
He raised his hand and pressed against Wu Zhu’s shoulder, forcefully ripping the other away from himself. His entire being was practically exploding with fury:
“……Don’t you fucking force me to break up with you right after we got together!!”
He should have known that getting involved with a non-human wouldn’t lead to a good end…
One round nearly cost him half his life. Another round?
He might as well just die!
Wu Zhu was still clear on the difference between being full for one meal and being full for every meal.
The darkness that had already been stirring around them was pulled back, regrettably lowering its flags and silencing its drums.
Wen Jianyan gritted his teeth: “Let go of me!”
Wu Zhu obediently let go.
Wen Jianyan pushed against the ground, struggling to prop up his upper body. He had only managed to push himself up slightly when his arms started to tremble.
Wen Jianyan: “……”
Fuck, this was too humiliating.
But since he was already halfway up, he had no choice but to bite the bullet and keep going. He swayed for a long time before he managed to gain control of his weak knees, getting up slowly, bit by bit.
The moment he stood up, he felt something dripping down.
“…………………………”
………………No, you’re kidding, right?
Wen Jianyan’s pupils dilated for a second, and he froze stiff on the spot, almost unable to believe what he had just felt.
“Sorry, couldn’t hold it back.” Wu Zhu apologized sincerely. “I’ll handle it.”
You’ll handle it?
How are you going to handle it?
Before Wen Jianyan could even ask the question, he felt the surrounding darkness gather without warning. The shadow’s tentacles were flexible and strong, effortlessly sliding into the soft, hot, overused place, guiding out every existence that didn’t belong there.
“!!!”
Before Wen Jianyan could react, he had already dropped back down onto his knees as if completely drained of strength.
His knees, pressed red, pressed tremblingly against the ground. The water he thought couldn’t be squeezed out anymore was forced out just a little bit more, and the moment it seeped out, it was immediately swallowed entirely.
Did he handle it? —Yes, he did handle it.
Did Wen Jianyan want it handled like this? —Not at all.
“……” Wen Jianyan clenched his jaw tightly and closed his eyes, wishing he could directly wipe everything that had just happened completely from his mind.
Forget it, he’d settle the score later.
The shadow swept into the distance and obediently pushed his clothes back.
Wen Jianyan began to get dressed.
Behind him, Wu Zhu watched his movements, his nearly tangible gaze landing on the young man’s back facing him.
The slender, protruding spine, the pure white skin, the savage finger marks and bite marks… All the traces of madness were entirely covered up by the fabric rising bit by bit.
The human young man, who had been stared at over and over again, paused his movements, turned his head sideways, and gritted his teeth:
“If you look again, I’ll gouge your eyes out.”
And so, Wu Zhu obediently retracted his gaze.
He was outrageously well-behaved, seemingly having firmly memorized the third principle Wen Jianyan had stated earlier.
But only Wen Jianyan knew that this guy was merely pretending to lick your hand after being fed full, putting on a deceptive look of docility. Once he found an opportunity, he would immediately bare his insatiable fangs—what had just happened was a bloody lesson.
He ground his teeth resentfully, his mind beginning to calculate all the countermeasures to strike back.
“……Oh right,” Suddenly, Wen Jianyan seemed to think of something. His fingers, which were tidying his clothes, paused. He tilted his head, his tone still a bit stiff, “There’s also this.”
He didn’t turn completely around, only turning halfway. The heart-shaped fragment appeared in his open palm, which he offered forward.
“Put it back.”
Wen Jianyan said stiffly.
“……You do it.” Wu Zhu looked at him intently.
Wen Jianyan froze: “……What?”
He frowned, subconsciously shaking his head:
“……I don’t know how.”
Wu Zhu stood up and walked forward. He raised his hand, wrapping it around Wen Jianyan’s hand, pulling him closer to his own chest:
“It’s okay, I’ll teach you.”
The young man’s warm fingertips trembled.
As if triggered by some rather unpleasant association, he reflexively pulled his hand back.
However, Wu Zhu didn’t let go, merely continuing to pull him closer to his chest.
Finally, the other’s wrist stopped resisting.
The palm holding the heart pressed against his right chest.
“Like this…”
With the movement, the golden patterns on the pale, robust, powerfully muscled broad chest released a blazing light.
Wu Zhu’s voice was slightly hoarse.
“Continue.”
Wen Jianyan only felt his fingertips sink deeply into the warm, red flames. He felt the temperature of the pendant in his palm rapidly rising, becoming burning hot… In the blink of an eye, it came alive like some living creature, throbbing against his fingers, beat by beat.
The sensation was too bizarre; Wen Jianyan couldn’t help but freeze.
Finally, his palm pressed against the other’s left chest without any obstruction, with not the slightest barrier between them.
“……”
Wen Jianyan looked at the position of his hand.
He didn’t know if it was his imagination, but the originally ice-cold skin beneath his palm seemed to have regained a bit of warmth. Deep within that chest cavity, a steady, drum-like heartbeat resounded.
Thump-thump, thump-thump.
Wen Jianyan abruptly looked up, his gaze locking onto Wu Zhu’s face. Ignoring the mask of coldness he had deliberately put on earlier, he pursued nervously:
“……Is it done? How are you? How does it feel?”
Wu Zhu didn’t reply immediately.
He lowered his eyes, seemingly pondering something.
His chest cavity had been empty for far, far too long.
The god who had lost his heart and his memories dragged his hollow, incomplete body, filled with furious wrath and an entire world’s worth of thirst for vengeance, wandering the world like a ghost.
Until one day…
A drop of fresh blood fell onto his lips.
A truth disguised as a lie echoed in his ears.
“……”
Wu Zhu lowered his eyes, gazing at the human in front of him.
All memories revived deep within his body.
Beneath the lake surface, inside the mirror—a kiss mixed with death and fear… In the darkness, outside the grave—the young man reaching out his hand with a coughing laugh.
—Destiny began the moment their eyes met.
Wu Zhu’s fingers still pressed against the back of Wen Jianyan’s hand. The heart beneath thudded loudly, its temperature burning, almost enough to burn them both to ashes.
He replied softly, slowly:
“……Lost and found.”
