A soft ding echoed in the air.
MISSION: PARASITIC PROCREATION — 50% COMPLETE
DUE DATE: THREE MONTHS
Xue Laohu stared at the glowing characters that hovered in front of his vision. His eye twitched.
"Perfect," he said flatly. "Just perfect."
Xue Laohu rolled his eyes and flicked the glowing system notification away with a sharp gesture. Useless thing. He was about to shut it down entirely when a thought struck him—something he'd completely forgotten.
Of course. The system had a character tracking function.
"System!" he barked, spinning on his heel and storming back into the dim room.
Xue Tuzi lay motionless on the bed, finally having drifted into a fragile sleep. The faint light cast his pale face in sickly hues, and the unnatural small swell of his belly rose and fell beneath thin blankets like a tide possessed. Xue Laohu glanced at him, gaze briefly softening before snapping back to business.
"Give me Shudu's coordinates. Now."
A second later, the system chimed in with its usual raspy cough:
GONG ML LOCATION: CRIMSON PETAL PARLOUR
Xue Laohu stared at the words, his jaw tightening. "…He's at the brothel?"
Disbelief turned quickly to fury. He dragged his hands through his hair, gripping the strands like he could rip the frustration out by force.
"Unbelievable," he hissed. "Xue Tuzi's suffering alone, bearing that thing—and Shudu's out there indulging himself?!"
There wasn't a single doubt in his mind. The creature inside of Xue Tuzi's belly—twisting, growing—belonged to Shudu. How it came to be, the exact mechanics or timeline, he didn't know. Maybe he hadn't wanted to know. But now…
His gaze drifted down to the swollen curve of Xue Tuzi's stomach, round and firm under the thin fabric. Despite being small it was pronounced, the weight of the parasite dragging his disciple closer to the edge.
With a mix of morbid curiosity and dread, Xue Laohu knelt beside the bed. Slowly, hesitantly, he placed a hand on Xue Tuzi's belly. It was warm to the touch. Still. Then—
Movement.
Something wriggled beneath his palm, and his breath caught in his throat. He could feel it—feel it living, shifting like a thing that didn't belong in this world. In his mind, he saw it: pale, stringy, a mass of flesh pulsing with a rhythm far too deliberate, too self-aware. It beat under the skin not from its heart but from hunger.
He imagined its head, swollen and misshapen, bone melted and reformed by cruel, unnatural design. Its skin stretched thin, slick and veined, clinging to every grotesque contour like a paper lantern soaked in blood. A milky eye twitched in his imagination, dangling half from its socket, scanning blindly through the dark as if searching—for prey, or perhaps for pity.
The longer his hand lingered, the stronger the feeling grew. The parasite began to squirm again. Xue Tuzi let out a soft moan in his sleep, his body reacting unconsciously to the movement. Then—
A wet, chittering noise. Faint, but there. A terrible clicking sound, like teeth grinding together—but uneven, jagged, wrong. The vibrations rippled through Xue Tuzi's belly and up into Xue Laohu's bones.
He drew in a shaky breath. His mind wouldn't stop painting the horror: the thing's malformed limbs spasming beneath layers of tumor-like flesh, muscles twitching in jerky insectile spasms. Its back would bulge with strange ridges, like it had been broken and forced back together. He could almost hear it—wet, squelching, dragging itself forward, inch by inch, toward Xue Tuzi's warmth.
Would Xue Tuzi hate it after it hatch? Or—worse—would he come to love it?
Disgust surged up from Xue Laohu's gut. He yanked his hand away, face pale. The vision clung to him like a stench he couldn't wash off.
"Fuck—" he choked, stumbling back from the bed.
His stomach turned. He managed to reach the basin just in time, retching violently as the phantom image of the creature danced in his head. Spit and bile burned his throat.
Wiping his mouth with the back of his sleeve, he staggered upright, panting.
Why?
Why would the system want something so horrific to be born?
The silence in the room pressed in around him, and the only answer was the sound of Xue Tuzi's shallow breathing.
A sudden jolt struck Xue Laohu's heart—not from the system, but something far deeper, intuition. His eyes snapped open, breath caught mid-chest. That feeling again. A heavy, foreboding weight settled in his gut like a stone dropped into a well. Something was wrong. He sat up, slowly, instinct prickling beneath his skin. The room was dim, the sun's rays shined bright through the window, casting patterns across the sleeping form beside him.
Xue Tuzi was finally at peace.
Xue Tuzi's breathing was deep and steady, his round cheeks gently puffing in and out with each exhale. His long lashes brushed the apples of his cheeks, damp with remnants of dried tears. His arms curled around the slight swell of his belly, which rose and fell in a rhythm that was both unnerving and somehow heartbreakingly delicate.
Xue Laohu swallowed hard.
Only hours ago, this same picture of serenity had been shattered. He could still hear the scream—raw, panicked, animalistic. Xue Tuzi had woken in a cold sweat, eyes wide with terror, soaked through his robes. He had flung the covers aside and stared down at his bloat in horror, fingers trembling.
Then came the screaming.
"GET IT OUT! GET IT OUT!" he had shrieked, voice cracking under the weight of madness.
Xue Laohu had barely gotten to him in time. Xue Tuzi had grabbed a knife—where he had hidden it, no one knew—and had raised it high, ready to rip open his own stomach. The fear on his face had been something otherworldly. He felt it, the parasite squirming beneath his skin, pressing against the inner walls of his body like a heartbeat out of sync with his own. Alive. Feeding. Growing.
Sect disciples had rushed in, pinning him down as he kicked and fought like a cornered beast, blade pressed against the soft flesh of his arm. Blood had already begun to drip when Xue Laohu slammed the tranquilizer into his neck. Xue Tuzi collapsed into his arms moments later, whimpering, breath hitching even in unconsciousness. Now, hours later, Xue Laohu ran a hand down his face and over his chest, trying to soothe the tension curling tight in his ribs. That feeling—it wouldn't leave him. Whatever was coming, it was close.
He groaned and summoned the system, swiping open the interface that hovered in the air like a floating scroll of cursed bureaucracy.
"System," he muttered dryly, "I hope you choke on your own code."
The screen blinked to life, lines of data unfolding before him. He scanned his life points and groaned. Pathetic. Then he pulled up the "Heart Status" tab for both Shudu and Xue Tuzi.
Solid black.
Not a single pink heart. Not even a flicker. He groaned again, louder this time, dragging both hands down his face. "Great. Just perfect. Love route? More like death speed run."
Then, at the bottom of the interface, the parasite's progress bar glowed ominously—a thick mass of red and pulsing gold. The thing was thriving and alive.
Only a month until it hatched.
But how? How would it hatch? Would it tear its way out like a beast clawing from its cocoon? Would Xue Tuzi survive it? Xue Laohu's heart twisted. His gaze slid to the sleeping form beside him again. Xue Tuzi's lips moved slightly in his dreams. A whimper. A name. Maybe his.
He reached out, hesitated, then brushed a strand of damp hair from Xue Tuzi's temple.
"How did this to happen to you," he whispered, voice hoarse. "I should've protected you better."
His gaze flicked over his shoulder toward the bed. Xue Tuzi still slept, his face peaceful again, chest rising in gentle rhythm he paused at the doorway, one hand resting lightly on the frame before he finally departing.
The wine jug hung heavy in Shudu's hand, its contents half-gone, just like his sense. The morning air was warm against his tan skin, igniting the fire in his chest. He leaned against the window frame, staring into the vast forest as if it might conjure him—Xue Tuzi, the man who had surrendered to him like a lover only to try to slice his head off.
"Not a day passes…" Shudu murmured, his voice rough with wine and want. "Not a single damned day where I don't think of you. I should have kissed you and held you the times I had you. But how the fuck do I forget you. If I've already made you mine."
He could still see him—Xue Tuzi's long, earthy brown hair, like silk cascading over pale jade skin. Those round, doe eyes, dark and bottomless, gazing at him with such wanton hunger it made Shudu's throat tighten. And his lips… those lips. Full, plump, marked by that teasing little mole at the bottom corner as if the heavens themselves had pressed a kiss there to spite all other mortals.
Shudu took a savage swing from the jug, the wine burning down his throat. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, his fingers trembling.
"There is no man or woman…no creature under heaven or Yellow Springs that could ever compete with you. Your beauty is a curse, Xue Tuzi. A sweet, seductive poison… that I'll gladly drink."
A bitter laugh escaped him. Pathetic. Even now, after betrayal, after blood had been spilled between them, his heart still ached like a lovesick fool's.
"You tried to take my life," he whispered, pressing a hand to his neck. "And yet… I would still give you my heart. What does that make me? A fool? A madman?"
The silence offered no answer.
With a snarl, Shudu hurled the wine jug against the wall. It shattered, crimson droplets spraying like blood against the stone.
"Damn you," he breathed swinging himself out the window and vanishing into the forest.
The cold morning breeze slipped through the half-open window, stirring the gauzy curtains. It brushed against Xue Tuzi's bare shoulder, making him shiver in his sleep. His lashes—long and dark—fluttered faintly, but he did not wake. Shudu stepped soundlessly over the windowsill, his boots meeting the wooden floor without a whisper. The room smelled of incense and medicine, and the cloying sweetness of a tranquilizer. His gaze fixed on the figure in the bed, Xue Tuzi's stomach rising and falling in slow, drugged rhythm.
Beautiful.
Even now, after everything, the sight of him made Shudu's chest ache. The morning sun gilded Xue Tuzi's brown hair, catching strands like spun copper. His lips, slightly parted, bore that maddening mole at the corner, a tease Shudu had once traced with his tongue.
His hand lifted, hovering just above Xue Tuzi's cheek—then hesitated.
You tried to kill me.
The memory resurfaced, a needle thread to his neck his hand slicing right off as he interjected. His fingers drifted lower instead, settling over the slightly swollen curve of Xue Tuzi's belly. The parasite shifted beneath his belly, restlessly. A low groan escaped Xue Tuzi's lips as he turned his head, revealing a red mark on his neck—the telltale sting of a needle.
Shudu's thumb pressed gently against the bruise. "I see Grandmaster Xue has been sedating you."
Xue Tuzi exhaled a soft, drowsy "Mnn…" but did not wake.
The parasite squirmed again, agitated. Shudu sighed, placing his hand on the bloated belly, his touch softening, smoothing circles over the taut skin until the movements stilled. "Have you suffered enough, little rabbit?" he murmured. "Or do you still need more punishment?"
Silence. Only the quiet rhythm of breath between them. Then, as if drawn by some unspoken pull, Shudu slid into the bed beside him. The moment his body touched the sheets, Xue Tuzi shifted, seeking warmth, his face nuzzling unconsciously against Shudu's chest.
A bitter laugh caught in Shudu's throat. Even like this, you still cling to me.
He cupped Xue Tuzi's face, thumb tracing the edge of that damned mole. "Do you still seek me?" he whispered. "Do you crave this body of mine, even after trying to carve your hatred into it?"
No answer. Only the slow, trusting press of Xue Tuzi's body against his. Shudu leaned in, lips hovering just above Xue Tuzi's—close enough to taste the warmth of his breath. Then, with a quiet surrender, he closed the distance.
And Xue Tuzi, still lost in dreams, kissed him back.