SB Ch92: Monster Healing

Chapter 92: “Shen Ti, I like you very much.”

An Wujiu hadn’t completely lost the ability to imagine his own life.

His memory was incomplete, so he had somewhat given up on the past in a fit of self-abandonment, but he thought he could at least control his future. For example, after getting a huge fortune from the Altar, he could cure his mother’s illness, find his sister, and live a peaceful and stable life.

But this goal, which An Wujiu didn’t consider extravagant, was shattered tonight. The worst part was that he couldn’t even muster the ability to cry for his mother.

It was like suddenly being told that a movie he’d forgotten the ending of was actually a tragedy. He wanted to watch it seriously and enthusiastically, but knowing it was sad, he still couldn’t cry.

He couldn’t understand why his memory was so clear.

The goal he had been striving to survive for had already become invalid long ago.

These false and erroneous memories had woven a beautiful and hopeful vision for him, but reality hit him like a sledgehammer, and he couldn’t even find the culprit.

An Wujiu couldn’t help but think of the voice that had appeared when the memories flooded in.

She had told him he would gradually recover all his memories.

An Wujiu couldn’t understand who could be so cruel as to use his emotions, making him strive to survive in the Altar, to become a survivor. And for what purpose?

Perhaps that person hadn’t expected him to discover the truth so soon.

An Wujiu felt like he was holding a torch in a foggy forest, walking for a long time without finding a way out, only for the torch to extinguish.

Everything was fake, and the only solace was that Shen Ti was here, to hold his fragility.

An Wujiu was grateful to Shen Ti in his heart.

An Wujiu had always been caught between two extremes. Extreme kindness was like an irresistible force pushing him into the spotlight, bearing everything alone. Extreme evil would occasionally backfire on his soul, making him constantly torment himself. The only reason he accepted reality and was willing to continue was his mother.

If it weren’t for Shen Ti, An Wujiu thought, tonight’s outcome for him would certainly not have been good.

As Gabriel had said, a person without hope either seeks death or loses themselves in some illusory faith, losing their identity.

In either case, he would no longer be himself.

“Thank you.”

An Wujiu lowered his head, burying his face in Shen Ti’s chest.

Fragility wasn’t his norm, nor should it be.

Shen Ti gently stroked his back. He didn’t say anything but thought to himself that the one who should really say thank you was himself.

Without An Wujiu, he would probably have remained a nameless shadow wandering in a chaotic world for his entire life, without roots or belonging.

But he didn’t want to say “I’m grateful to you too,” or any other polite words.

He didn’t fully understand it, but he had seen and heard many things.

“It seems that for most people, gratitude doesn’t count as love.” Shen Ti cupped An Wujiu’s face and smiled, using a coaxing tone, “Why don’t you like me a little more?”

An Wujiu, who had been expressionless, couldn’t help but laugh at these words.

“Why does it sound like you’re asking me to repay a debt with my body?”

Seeing An Wujiu laugh, Shen Ti finally felt relieved.

He raised an eyebrow. “I wouldn’t mind that. I’m not exactly a gentleman.”

Unexpectedly, An Wujiu didn’t let it slide. He raised an eyebrow, mimicking Shen Ti. “And I’m not necessarily one either.”

This retort left Shen Ti momentarily speechless.

Normally, Shen Ti would have bantered back, but now he felt a sense of emotion, feeling that An Wujiu was truly recovering.

His extreme nature often made others feel dangerous, but Shen Ti’s thoughts were different from theirs.

Shen Ti raised his hand, tucking the loose strands of hair behind An Wujiu’s ear.

“You didn’t refute me.” An Wujiu noticed his distraction. “What are you thinking?”

Shen Ti was very honest. “I think you are gradually recovering. The two extreme states you used to have seem to be merging.”

“Really?” An Wujiu chuckled. “I thought you didn’t care.”

“I don’t care.” Shen Ti’s hand rested on his waist, looking at him. “But you care.”

“I don’t understand others, but I seem to understand you. Every time you switch from one extreme to another, it must be hard for you.”

Shen Ti paused and then said, “Especially the first time, in the bunker scenario, switching from evil back to good. It must have been tormenting, right?”

An Wujiu thought their relationship was based on mutual attraction, that he was interesting enough to catch Shen Ti’s attention.

He never thought that Shen Ti had already seen through his heart so clearly.

“This is what I think.” Shen Ti’s fingers gently tapped An Wujiu’s lower back. “In comparison, I don’t care much about others’ opinions, but I don’t want you to regret your actions. So seeing you recover from extremes to a balanced state makes me happy.”

This reason was far beyond An Wujiu’s expectations.

“So that’s it.”

He had often been tormented by his own actions, whether it was killing or excessive kindness. Each switch of states made it impossible to face the other side of himself.

An Wujiu thought no one could understand him like this.

It seemed that he and Shen Ti were rare anomalies in this world, which was why they could hold each other and seek warmth together.

“This time, I won’t say thank you.”

An Wujiu looked up and kissed Shen Ti’s chin.

“Shen Ti, I like you very much.”

These words pleased Shen Ti, but he was dissatisfied with where he was kissed, so he kissed An Wujiu as he pulled away. The sudden move made An Wujiu’s heart skip a beat.

After being told he was liked, Shen Ti abandoned his previous tentative approach, almost pressing against him, one hand holding his waist and the other controlling An Wujiu’s head.

At the moment their tongues intertwined, a thin layer of electricity seemed to pass through An Wujiu’s entire body, as if his strength was drained and his senses were completely handed over to the other person.

He was immersed in the wet panting, his desire surging like the tides of the sea. Only when extreme emotions overwhelmed him did An Wujiu feel like a person with flesh and blood.

Shen Ti’s hand brushed against the hem of his clothes but ultimately did not cross the line. He could feel Shen Ti restraining himself as he ended the kiss, pulling away and gazing at his face.

Shen Ti looked at his slightly parted lips, still glistening with moisture, and couldn’t resist pecking him again.

The doorbell rang outside, perfectly timed.

Shen Ti touched his cheek before turning to open the door. As expected, it was the little white boy. The boy enthusiastically introduced their food to Shen Ti, but Shen Ti was clearly uninterested, hoping to end the conversation quickly.

An Wujiu watched him and almost laughed.

Thanking him three or four times, he nearly shooed the boy out.

Usually so adept at pretending, yet now he didn’t bother.

Seeing Shen Ti’s eagerness, the boy didn’t linger, only reminding them, “The room next door is also yours.”

Shen Ti was about to speak when An Wujiu beat him to it.

“One room is enough,” An Wujiu said calmly. “We’ve been sleeping together all this time anyway.”

The boy immediately blushed, nodding shyly. He wasn’t well-versed in such matters, but working in this place, he understood somewhat.

“Well then… enjoy your meal.” He bowed. “Have a wonderful night.”

“Thank you.”

Although this wasn’t a place An Wujiu liked, the Western food was surprisingly good, though the wine was a bit lacking.

He held the stem of his glass, suddenly pausing.

Why could he discern the quality of the wine?

He looked down at the label on the bottle, seeing a price he would never have chosen to pay.

Sure enough, at least during the time he lost his memory, he hadn’t been living an ordinary life.

“What are you daydreaming about?” Shen Ti clinked his glass against his. “Is the wine bad?”

An Wujiu shook his head. Even though the main course was well-prepared, he had almost no appetite, taking only one bite before putting down his fork.

“Seems like the food isn’t to your taste either.” Shen Ti smiled. “Shouldn’t have ordered just now.”

An Wujiu looked up at him, thinking of the longing look the boy gave Shen Ti, and felt a sudden pang of jealousy.

“But that waiter was very enthusiastic.”

Yes.

Shen Ti didn’t say it, but he had been glancing at An Wujiu, who was staring unblinkingly at the boy.

Just moments ago, they had been kissing.

“He’s quite cute.” Shen Ti said deliberately.

An Wujiu picked up his fork, stabbed a piece of what looked like fruit from the salad, and agreed with Shen Ti’s assessment. “Yes. His legs seem to be prosthetic, and his face is very childlike.”

“You noticed all that?”

Very attentive.

An Wujiu sensed something off in his tone. “I noticed he walked differently with each leg, so I observed. One leg is thinner, and one ankle is artificial.”

Shen Ti deliberately put down his knife and fork, resting his chin on his hand, and raised an eyebrow at An Wujiu. “Have you ever observed me like that?”

An Wujiu understood what Shen Ti meant. It wasn’t about wanting to hear compliments about someone else.

“Of course.” An Wujiu answered honestly. “But you are very self-aware, knowing your face is too striking, so you wear a mask. What can I observe? At most, that you’re very tall, have beautiful hands, a tattoo on your Adam’s apple, and look very striking.”

This impeccable reply left Shen Ti with no room to argue.

It made sense. An Wujiu wasn’t some naive, easily manipulated person. He didn’t talk much, but when he did, his words were sharp. In his kind state, he exuded a very trustworthy aura, and in his other state, his ability to manipulate was even more terrifying. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have captivated so many people, making them follow him blindly.

An Wujiu couldn’t eat much, so he just sat in the chair watching Shen Ti, or looking at the neon-stained night sky outside.

“Wearing the mask isn’t just to hide my face.”

He suddenly heard Shen Ti say.

“Then what is it?” An Wujiu turned to look at him.

“The mask isn’t mine.” Shen Ti lowered his eyes. “It belonged to a little boy. I helped him in a game once, and he gave me the mask. I didn’t like it and never planned to help him, it was just on a whim, but he was very happy, very grateful, and told me that if we survived, he would show me other masks he made.”

“That was the first person I had any interaction with in the game, because I’m too solitary and strange. Probably only a naive child would be willing to befriend me.” Shen Ti said, smiling lightly. “But he didn’t make it out alive.”

An Wujiu hadn’t expected that the mask was something Shen Ti obtained after his first encounter with someone.

Shen Ti looked at An Wujiu, “What shook me the most wasn’t the child’s death, but the fact that I felt nothing in the face of it.”

He couldn’t describe to An Wujiu the emptiness, the feeling of being unable to perceive anything or any emotions.

“I realized that I am a very, very strange person,” Shen Ti said softly. “I knew that if it were someone else, they would be grieved, at least sad for a while. So I wore the mask he gave me, pretending that I was also mourning.”

An Wujiu finally understood why Shen Ti loathed living so much.

How could someone who felt nothing for anything love this world?

“I’m sorry, I even smashed the mask.”

Hearing An Wujiu’s apology, Shen Ti laughed, “It’s okay. When the mask cracked, I suddenly realized that… I should actually face it.”

“And…”

Shen Ti was unsure if saying this would make An Wujiu feel pressured or doubt its truth, but it was indeed the case. He had told many lies, but he had never lied to An Wujiu.

“You are different from everyone else. I can feel you. Your happiness, sadness, pain—I can feel it all.”

His eyes looked clear and sincere in the warm light.

“I don’t need to pretend for that. It seems like I was born with this ability.”

An Wujiu’s nose felt a bit sour.

It takes a strange person to save another strange person.

“I know.”

He understood Shen Ti’s oddity, understood that sometimes he was like a child who had never entered the world, knowing nothing, but for the sake of fitting in, had to pretend to understand. Over time, he lived a very contradictory life.

He became both naive and sophisticated.

Perhaps only when facing himself did Shen Ti show his instinctive side.

The lights of the city never went out at night, even more bustling than the daytime. The neon lights through the glass made everyone’s dreams noisy.

An Wujiu quietly lay in Shen Ti’s arms, his back against Shen Ti’s warm chest, feeling a sense of security he had never experienced before. Even though this place was safe, he still couldn’t fall asleep smoothly. As soon as he closed his eyes, all the dangers that had once threatened them surfaced in his mind, as if he were reliving them.

So An Wujiu could only keep his eyes open, staring at the blank wall without a focus.

He tried speaking softly to Shen Ti, saying he needed to find his sister, whether she was alive or not, because she might be his only relative.

He also told Shen Ti that the closed mental hospital could be investigated, and that the metal skeleton on his body should provide more clues.

After saying these things, An Wujiu also told himself in his heart that he couldn’t accept a fate manipulated by others, with muddled and vague memories. He had to find his original and complete self.

Shen Ti held him, his breathing steady. After confirming that Shen Ti was asleep, An Wujiu gently turned around. Shen Ti was holding him too tightly, and it took him quite a bit of effort to face Shen Ti.

The colorful lights from the floor-to-ceiling window fell on Shen Ti’s face. An Wujiu extended his finger, tracing Shen Ti’s features and contours a few millimeters away.

He hoped this person wouldn’t leave.

But if hope had to be shattered, An Wujiu hoped it would be him leaving, not Shen Ti, nor anyone he cared about.

Shen Ti slept deeply; in his memory, he rarely slept so soundly.

His arms empty, originally still sleepy, he suddenly woke up, sitting up.

The bed was now empty, just him.

Shen Ti’s heart started racing. He was about to lift the blanket and get out of bed when he saw something on the side table.

Turning his head, he saw the mask that had been split in two.

This was unexpected. He reached out and picked up the mask. It had been split in two but now was glued together, albeit with clumsy adhesive marks.

Why did he keep this? Something that had no practical value to him.

Did he return to the dueling threshold after the duel to retrieve it and store it in the game panel?

Just as he was puzzled, the door beeped and opened from the outside.

An Wujiu, standing at the door, saw Shen Ti sitting up and paused, “You’re awake?”

Shen Ti blinked and waved the mask in his hand.

“I… I haven’t finished gluing it. Put it down first.”

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