After Being Parasiticized By A Monster - Chapter 23

Chapter 23: “Your body seems to have changed a bit… Are your estrogen levels a little high?”

The sound of water trickled in the bathroom.

Cheng Ming was setting up the guest bedroom next door.

Since the room was usually unused, she had stored a lot of clutter in it. She moved and rearranged things slightly, clearing a space, unfolding the folding bed, and laying out pillows and blankets.

During this process, the sound of water on the other side stopped.

A moment later, Cheng Ming heard footsteps. Her guest had finished showering. Wrapped in a crooked towel, she walked into the living room, sat on the sofa, and slowly drank from a cup that had already cooled on the table.

She was looking down quietly, clearly lost in thought.

“Huang Chengcheng.”

Hearing Cheng Ming call her, the girl turned her head.

At that exact moment, a light shone directly on her face, bright as day. It caused her eyes to squint, but the glass cup remained firmly in her hand, the water inside not even rippling.

She was slow to raise her hand a few seconds later, half-shielding her eyes, looking at Cheng Ming with confusion.

The shadow projected onto the opposite wall was clearly outlined, perfectly normal.

“Sorry, accidental touch.” Cheng Ming stood at the guest room door, turned off the flashlight, and smiled at her. “The room is ready. The clothes I got for you are by the bed.”

“Okay, thank you,” Little Huang politely smiled.

Cheng Ming’s fingers remained on the metal doorknob, keeping the door open until the girl approached.

Just as they passed each other, Cheng Ming suddenly cried out, “Ouch!” and covered her forehead.

Huang Chengcheng stopped and looked down. A strand of hair had gotten caught on the clip holding Cheng Ming’s towel in place.

Cheng Ming’s head was tugged sideways, and she nearly bumped into the girl.

The latter instinctively raised her arm, seemingly to steady her, but Cheng Ming’s reaction was rather exaggerated, stepping back as if to avoid being touched, and quickly straightening up.

She gave an awkward laugh, then reluctantly reached out and untangled the troublesome strand of hair.

Standing close, a faint, moist scent drifted from Huang Chengcheng. It didn’t smell like Cheng Ming’s shower gel. It was somewhat familiar, but Cheng Ming couldn’t place it immediately.

Before closing the door, the girl, with her round head and round eyes, looked at her and said, “Goodnight.”

Cheng Ming smiled and watched her go.

She clenched the strand of unusually thick hair until she returned to her own bedroom. With a click, the door closed, and her expression darkened. “What are you doing?”

The dense, black fungal threads curled and twisted in her fingers. They were initially wriggling at the ends, struggling in protest, but at the sound of her voice, they drooped down, lying still like a reprimanded pet dog.

“You clearly suspect her,” Little Ming spoke, its tone very flat. “It’s simple. I’ll parasitize her with spores. It’s a perfect chance to test the effect of conidia on a living human.”

“What if she isn’t anything?”

“Maybe she’ll be fine, maybe she’ll become a host for the spores, maybe her nutrients will be sucked dry. We lose nothing.”

Cheng Ming gave an angry laugh. “Who is ‘we’?”

This utterly inhuman monster!

Suddenly showing up, wearing strange clothes, and acting abnormally… Huang Chengcheng was indeed suspicious, making it hard not to question if something was wrong with her.

However, she couldn’t rule out that the girl was traumatized outside, perhaps due to family conflict or the recent monster incident. She might have come to her house out of fear… Her reluctance to say more could also be a sign that she was still in a state of shock.

Therefore, the only thing Cheng Ming could do was to provide thoughtful care, not to provoke her further.

Little Ming: “That quality of yours… is it called ‘kindness’? Do you want me to search for some words to praise you?”

Its tone was flat, but the underlying implication was exceptionally sarcastic.

“No need,” Cheng Ming turned her back. “It’s just good upbringing.”

She remembered an incident in junior high when she was reported for faking an award and was questioned repeatedly by teachers and school administrators. Although the matter was dropped due to lack of evidence, the psychological damage to a sensitive teenager was immense. She left the boarding school after classes and walked six kilometers home overnight without a word.

Cheng Ran happened to have the day off that day.

It started to drizzle on the way. She stood outside the door, drenched, like a stray dog, startling Cheng Ran when she opened the door.

But in the end, her mother didn’t ask anything. She simply prepared a bath for her, warmed up a late-night snack, and told her to rest well.

After the lights were off, she felt her way to the master bedroom and quietly burrowed into her mother’s arms.

Cheng Ran hugged her and said, “Goodnight, baby. Mommy will take you tomorrow.”

She didn’t remember the long, tiring journey, the hardships, or the storm, but she always remembered her mother’s embrace. Fragrant and warm.

Cheng Ming pressed her cold fingertips against her eyelids, pushing back the sudden surge of warmth.

Perhaps sensing her emotions, Little Ming fell silent and didn’t argue further.

She didn’t want to fight with it either. She picked up her clothes and walked into the bathroom.

Huang Chengcheng had just used it. There were residual water marks on the tiles, and the glass was so clean it reflected light.

The familiar scent entered her nostrils. Cheng Ming felt around the bottles and jars on the shelf, paused, remembered what the scent was, and widened her eyes in surprise.

Did the girl mistake the facial cleanser for shower gel?

But she had other things on her mind and didn’t dwell on it.

It wasn’t until she was clean and warm, back in her bedroom, and already lying in bed, that Cheng Ming belatedly realized the biggest thing that was wrong.

The wall she saw when she entered was too clean.

There was no steam on the glass, and no heat in the bathroom.

…Did she shower with cold water?

A faint chill seemed to creep from the bathroom tiles to her bedside. She tucked her feet under the covers, frowned, and grabbed the laptop from the bedside table.

She opened it, connected it to her phone’s device, and the real-time feed popped up, showing the guest room—she had secretly placed her phone’s camera in a corner when she cleaned up.

Everything in the room was normal. A blurry human figure lay on the folding bed, the quilt pulled up.

Did she encounter an accident, or was she the accident herself… If it really was a monster in disguise with ill intent, why hadn’t it shown any threat so far?

Cheng Ming didn’t want to think in that direction, but she truly couldn’t figure it out.

She looked at the electronic wristband on her arm, momentarily considering calling the Security Department. Her knuckles slightly lifted but then clenched into a fist, her nails digging into her flesh.

She calmed down, sighing inwardly.

At times like this, she deeply regretted not being a “model citizen.”

The defense center was already on edge. Whether Huang Chengcheng had a problem or not, putting herself at risk wouldn’t do any good.

When she looked back at the screen, she abruptly sat up.

On the screen, the formerly raised quilt had flattened. The person on the bed was gone!

“What are you watching?”

Like the winter wind blowing into her ear, the hairs on her neck stood up wherever the voice passed.

Cheng Ming snapped her head around. The bedroom door had opened at some point without warning. Huang Chengcheng was standing by her bed.

…

11:26 PM.

Unit 2, Tenth floor, North Apartment. The outside was dead silent.

And inside—

Leaning against the bed’s headboard, with the knitted cotton pillow used as a backrest, Cheng Ming had Huang Chengcheng on her left. Her right hand, pressing down on the somewhat restive fungal threads, stared at the constantly changing images on the screen, though her eyes were vacant and she couldn’t take anything in.

She didn’t know how things had come to this.

When the girl suddenly appeared and asked what she was watching, Cheng Ming quickly closed the monitoring app, fumbled to open a movie streaming app, and claimed she was watching a movie.

Despite the lame excuse, the girl believed her.

Then Huang Chengcheng said she couldn’t sleep and asked if she could watch too.

Staring into those big, dark eyes, no one would have been able to refuse at that moment.

And so, the two were now sitting side-by-side by the headboard, the laptop between them, watching an equally eerie movie in a strange atmosphere.

Yes, it was a horror film.

When the first sharp scream came from the speakers, Cheng Ming was jolted back to reality. Seeing the grim, gray visuals and hearing the strange, gloomy soundtrack, she realized what she had impulsively clicked on.

She endured the goosebumps rising on her arm. Her peripheral vision caught the person next to her watching intently, seemingly very interested, so she couldn’t bring herself to suggest changing the movie.

On one side was a bizarre movie, on the other, a bizarre movie partner.

At a time like this, the only comfort was the fungal threads wrapped around her fingers.

At least Little Ming hadn’t warned her.

Her hair flowed around her like a waterfall. Her heart settled a little.

But her nerves were inevitably still tense.

After all, the being—whether “living person” or “living thing”—was so close. Any slight movement could make her jump. Combined with the jump-scare sound effects of the movie, it was a true mental torture.

An hour that felt like a year passed. After the scariest part of the plot, the girl next to her finally stood up and said, “I’m going to sleep now.”

She left the room.

Cheng Ming’s shoulders slightly relaxed. Her eyes followed the girl’s retreating figure. Feeling both relieved and more confused, she sank into thought.

However, of the three beings in the apartment, only she seemed unsettled.

Little Ming was absorbed in the movie.

“Cheng Ming, what is she doing?” it suddenly spoke, interrupting her thoughts.

Her attention was pulled back. Cheng Ming frowned and shifted her gaze, just in time to hear a soft, wet moaning from the film.

The plot had progressed to a segment where the heroine was alone, her clothes partially undone, self-pleasuring in front of a mirror. Her hand slid from her shoulder, over her lower abdomen. The frame froze, leaving the hand’s action implied.

The close-up shot continued downwards to a pair of pale, long legs. Her toes curled, and the muscle lines of her legs slightly undulated.

The suggestive scene spoke volumes without showing anything explicit.

The actress was enchanting, and her performance was alluring. Even though no unnecessary parts were shown, and the background was still ghostly, the entire scene was sensuous.

Cheng Ming felt a wave of heat rush from her neck to the top of her head. Her mind buzzed. She sat bolt upright and clapped the laptop shut with a clack—

“Stop watching!”

It would have been fine if she were alone, but there was another entity inside her… It would have been fine if it just watched, but it had to ask for an explanation.

That innocent curiosity, that pure, childish questioning… How was this any different from an adult being asked by a child what a couple was doing embracing?

Shame and embarrassment instantly flushed her hot cheeks.

Ignoring the entity’s dissatisfied protests, she threw the laptop onto the small cabinet by the bed, pulled back the corner of the quilt, and burrowed in. Rolling over to fully cover herself, she tuned everything out.

“What’s wrong with you?”

The fish-fungus baby, whose social awareness was only a few months old, clearly couldn’t understand its host’s sudden reaction.

It explored with intense curiosity: “Your body seems to have changed a bit… Are your estrogen levels a little high?”

Cheng Ming gritted her teeth: “SLEEP!”

The inexplicable distraction ruined her mood to continue focusing on the guest’s strangeness. She feigned sleep to cover up her reaction. However, due to the previous sleepless night and the exhaustion of the current evening, she genuinely fell asleep quickly.

Little did she know, as her breathing gradually settled and she slipped into a deep sleep, the other consciousness remained active.

As she restlessly rolled over toward the bedside table, the parasite quietly opened its eyes.

“She” lay perfectly still, strictly adhering to the agreement not to control her body without permission.

The room was dark and silent, yet a faint light reflected on her face—

A strand of fungal thread stretched out, opened the laptop, pressed the mute button, and hit play.

…

Early the next morning, Cheng Ming stood at the guest room door.

The room in front of her was empty. Her feet felt stuck to the floor as a draft blew through the hallway. A chill ran down her spine, like the silent breath of some unknown creature.

The quilt was put back in the closet, the folding bed was folded up and placed against the wall. Even the clutter she had moved was back in its original place. Everything was orderly.

The only living person was gone.

And the time was just past six o’clock.

“She left very early.”

If the parasite inside her hadn’t made that comment, she would have almost believed the whole night had been a dream.

“When did she leave?” Cheng Ming asked intently.

“I don’t know,” the parasite, which should have been the most sensitive, surprisingly replied.

Its tone was lazy, like sleep talk, sounding somewhat drowsy.

Fortunately, her phone was still there.

She retrieved the device from the corner of the shelf and played back the recorded footage.

The video showed the door opening at 12:57 AM.

Since the living room light was off, the view was completely dark. Night mode only captured a blur of a human figure walking in, putting on the clothes by the bed, and then busying herself for a while.

She had very thoughtfully and completely silently tidied up the temporary bedding Cheng Ming had prepared for her.

At 1:49 AM, the figure pulled the door open again, walked out of the room, and disappeared into the thick darkness.

So, the girl never rested here last night.

Moreover, before leaving, she had put everything back perfectly, seemingly only stopping short of a full spring cleaning because she wasn’t familiar with the placement of the items.

The scene… was completely inconceivable.

Cheng Ming held her phone, looking at the small figure diligently laboring on the screen, and was utterly confused.

What, exactly, was the purpose of this visit?

Was it just to sneak a set of her clothes?

…

Institute 22nd Floor.

Cheng Ming couldn’t find Huang Chengcheng in the lab, so she went up another floor and found Jiang Dexin.

She asked, “Professor Jiang, is Chengcheng not at work yet?”

“Ah? You’re looking for her?” Jiang Dexin looked up from a pile of books. “Little Huang was attacked by a mutant organism yesterday. She’s been transferred for treatment and is still in the hospital.”

“What?” Cheng Ming froze in place, as if she had lost the ability to comprehend, hearing gibberish.

“The treatment was timely, so it shouldn’t be a major issue. I’ll call and check again,” Jiang Dexin thought she was worried.

The defense center had an emergency medical facility, but the dedicated hospital was built outside the quarantine line. Otherwise, transferring patients during every emergency would be a huge problem.

She lit up her phone and dialed a number.

The busy signal rang two or three times, then quickly connected.

A weak, frail voice came from the earpiece, pitiful but with a hint of petulance—

“Professor Jiang, why did you tell my mom?! She scolded me to death, slapped me right away. I’m going to die. My back is all bruised…”

Cheng Ming’s eyes grew wider and wider.

“Chengcheng?” she leaned in incredulously. “Are you alright?”

“Ah! Senior!” Little Huang instantly perked up. “I’m not alright, wahhh!” Having escaped death, she still had the presence of mind to worry about her career. She wailed in despair, “It’s over now. I have even less chance of convincing my mom to let me stay… Senior, do you have any ideas?”

I think the fact that you’re alive is more important…

Cheng Ming took the phone, unable to tell if she was hot or cold. Her palm was sweating. She asked, “Chengcheng, can you make a video call so I can see you?”

Her tone was a little rushed.

“Senior, you’re worried about me!” The person on the other end was instantly energized. There was a rustling sound from the earpiece, and her voice rose two notes higher. “Wait a moment. I look so ugly right now. Don’t be scared.”

A minute later, a video call came through.

The camera shook. The girl was lying on a white hospital bed, wearing a fuzzy hat to cover her bald head, and receiving an IV drip. It was clear she had been through some ordeal. After one day, her round cheeks were thinner, and her eyes were bruised, but her spirits were okay. She grinned, flashing her teeth, and gave a peace sign with the hand that wasn’t connected to the IV.

The transparent window of the hospital room briefly flashed, showing figures in helmets and armor outside—likely Security Department personnel.

Cheng Ming was overwhelmed with mixed emotions—amused, distressed, and wanting to scold her. After a complex, wordless moment, she hung up the phone and returned it to Jiang Dexin.

Leaving the office, her thoughts slowly sank. Her face was truly grim.

She was no longer worried about the girl.

She was worried about herself now.

So, what exactly did she share a room with last night?