After Being Parasiticized By A Monster - Chapter 27

Chapter 27: Shouldn’t It Have Become Little Ming?

Cheng Ming abruptly opened her eyes, and the grating noise of the monitoring equipment flooded her ears.

Beep—

Her heart rate instantly spiked by 30%, exceeding the preset alarm threshold and catching the attention of the nursing staff.

Someone rushed over, adjusting the parameters of the ventilator, saying to her, “Breathe! Breathe! Relax!”

The hot air she exhaled fogged the oxygen mask, making all the surrounding sights indistinct. Cheng Ming mechanically followed the instruction, as if she had suddenly been yanked back to the human world from hell.

In moments of fragility and fear, people instinctively search for an anchor point for their souls. That’s why many will call out for their mother in a crisis, no matter their age, and regardless of whether their mother is present.

The old her would have, too.

But Cheng Ran’s face still lingered in that ghastly nightmare.

She vaguely called out in her mind, “Little Ming—”

Little Ming… Little Ming…

Her head ached, and her consciousness was extremely unclear.

The last time she was rushed to the intensive care unit with such urgency was six months ago for a fungal infection in her skull.

After that, she gained a parasitic partner she often wished dead.

It was only after those two words unconsciously appeared in her mind that Cheng Ming slowly remembered that she wasn’t calling herself.

This was the name she had given to the monster living inside her body.

She had given her own nickname to it.

Little Ming.

Another silent call.

She tried her best to cooperate with the busy medical staff, closing her eyes and breathing deeply. But they were outsiders, strangers, people who were distantly unfamiliar to her.

Her mind and body felt like they were floating in mid-air. Heaven and earth spun. Countless scattered images, like fragments of glass, flickered in the void. Every breath was accompanied by the anxiety of about to fall into an abyss.

The world was distorted and inverted. She felt only loneliness.

She remembered everything that happened before she lost consciousness.

She was desperate to question this partner, which was supposed to be one with her: why it had pleaded for the antagonistic creature, why it was conspiring with other monsters.

Unfortunately, the neurological communication seemed to have failed.

With the nasal cannula delivering oxygen, the dizziness caused by hypoxia was gradually easing, but the general discomfort had not improved.

The on-duty medical staff drew her bl00d for testing. Emergency medication was injected into her body, temporarily suppressing the chaotic physiological symptoms. The lights dimmed, and the ward was quiet, with no one else present besides her.

She felt a coolness on her scalp; the fungal threads seemed to be shedding. But since the last infection, she had no hair, so no one would suspect this.

This was the deepest darkness before dawn.

“Little Ming?”

After a long silence, a slight panic mixed with her weak tone.

She desperately wanted to open her eyes to see what was wrong, but her eyelids were as heavy as if two mountains rested upon them.

One second stretched into an eternity.

“I’m here.” Finally, a voice lighter than a feather sounded. “Cheng Ming, sleep.”

Cheng Ming was barely conscious and didn’t detect the abnormality.

She only felt that the low whisper seemed to come from afar, having traveled through countless long years of wind and frost before barely reaching her ears.

So, she forgot what she wanted to ask.

She let her mind and body fall from the heights, riding the feather back to the soft bed of reality, and sank into a deep sleep.

…

The medical vehicle had left early.

The Squad 1 team was still inspecting the institute.

But the one tasked with the most important “police dog” role was clearly being a bit of a slacker.

Yan Li didn’t understand if all the mysterious members of that mysterious department were so pure, adorable, reckless, and lawless… so childlike.

But she wasn’t there to babysit.

“Her life safety is the highest priority. Any questions can be discussed later,” she stated, opening the encrypted transmission on her helmet, remaining strictly professional. “That is a direct order from above.”

“So annoying…” Little Shell grumbled on the private channel. “Who is she? She must be a big deal.”

“Both her parents were Level 1 researchers, especially her mother, Professor Cheng Ran, who was once the head of the Animal Team at the institute,” Yan Li provided the information she had just received.

“Oh,” Little Shell pouted. “My mommy is also surnamed Cheng, and she’s a Level 1 researcher, too.”

Her tone suggested, So what?

It sounded even more like a comparison and boast between children.

Yan Li: “…”

…

Cheng Ming stayed in the intensive care unit overnight. The next day, the test results came back: it was not only Hydra venom but also a viral infection.

The virus was aggressive and quickly knocked her flat.

For the next 48 hours, Cheng Ming was relentlessly tossed between high fever and cooling. She was never truly awake, and sleep was completely out of the question. If she wanted to vomit, there was nothing to throw up. If she wanted to die, the angels in white would fight fiercely to save her… In her memory, she hadn’t suffered this badly since the major illness she had at age 11.

Cheng Ming had the dubious honor of being hospitalized and missing work.

After leaving the ICU, she felt like the destruction of the world had nothing to do with her. All she wanted was a good night’s sleep.

However, visitors cycled through, waking her up repeatedly at different times.

First, Huang Chengcheng.

The two “sisters in misfortune” hugged and wept. “Oh, Senior, what a coincidence! Why are you in here too, woo woo woo…”

Then, Jiang Dexin.

After warm greetings and heartfelt concern, came a long, sighing lecture: “Didn’t I tell you not to stay up late? Now look, you’ve gotten another infection…”

Cheng Ming had no way to argue and resignedly closed her eyes.

People from the Security Department also came to verify the situation with her.

Although she felt a little apologetic, she was the patient now.

So, she insisted that it was coincidence that she worked late, a coincidence that she ran into the monster, a coincidence that there was a tool nearby for her to grab for self-defense, and a coincidence that the monster was fragile and couldn’t withstand a blow… In short, there was no way to prove otherwise.

Not only were they powerless against her, but they also had to be mindful of her health and couldn’t press her too hard.

She easily slipped through the inquiry.

Finally, Qu Ying.

Cheng Ming was startled awake by a “crunch, crunch” sound.

Honestly, it was a very subtle noise.

But perhaps because she was on edge from the two days of torment, her hearing was overly sensitive. The sound entering her ears was as clear as if it were scratching her eardrums.

Cheng Ming despairingly opened her eyes. The person was sitting in the visitor’s chair, peeling an apple.

The paring knife was sharp, gliding nimbly between her fingers. Swish, swish—quick and clean, yet inexplicably carrying a hint of aggression.

As a result, her brief moment of relief upon seeing a familiar face was replaced by deeper despair.

“Sister Yingying…” she leaned against the large white pillow, weak and listless. “You don’t look like you’re peeling fruit. You look like you want to peel me.”

Qu Ying glanced up and gave a cold smile. “Glad you know.”

Every time she hadn’t seen her for a while, this kid managed to pull some new stunt. What parent could stay rational?

“You knew there was a monster infiltrating the institute, and you didn’t avoid it. How could you dare to stay there alone?” she asked incredulously.

Lying to others was fine, but she didn’t believe it was a coincidence.

Cheng Ming awkwardly bit her lip.

After a moment of silence, her expression slowly became serious. She lowered her voice. “Sister Yingying, do you know what that thing was? It turned into my face and stole my identity clearance… If I didn’t take care of it myself, I was afraid it would drag me down with it.”

Qu Ying paused. Her thumb pushed a piece of apple peel off the back of the knife. Unperturbed, she said:

“I know. There are records of this thing. The species is unclear. In our internal files, it’s called ‘Jiao’ [Jiao-dragon, and it’s the most direct proof of the monster organization’s existence.”

Jiao?

After clarifying the character, Cheng Ming instantly thought of the legendary, mythological creature and was stunned. “A Mermaid?”

However, recalling the fish scales she saw on the monster, she suddenly understood why it was given that name.

“Yes.” Crunch. Qu Ying sliced a piece of fruit, peel and all, into the trash can. “The current information we have is that after they parasitize a human body, they possess powerful flesh manipulation abilities.”

That was why they could change shape and mimic others.

It sounded terrifying, but no matter how much they mutated, they were still organisms.

As organisms, they had limits and had to follow natural rules.

First, they cannot survive independently in a waterless environment. For example, this one used the Hydra as an intermediary host to reach a human.

Second, the external appearance change is limited. The essence is to achieve targeted cell proliferation and programmed death through genetic information. The time is short and the task is demanding, so they can often only manage external adjustments. This is why they need a similar body type, and why internal organs and bones are not easily changed. An X-ray can distinguish real from fake.

In addition, their attack power is limited by the human body itself. The danger of a frontal encounter might be even less than that of a Hydra.

Finally, they have a short lifespan. So far, none have been found to live for more than a month. Damage to the body further shortens their life, and they also don’t seem to have a need for reproduction. So, theoretically, even if left alone, they would automatically disappear after a period.

The simple fact that they are difficult to change bodies limits their development.

That’s why it is said that they are proof of the organization’s existence.

They don’t look like normal organisms at all. They look more like disposable tools that were specifically created to fulfill a certain mission.

Their disguise as humans has a clear purpose.

For example, the one that impersonated Cheng Ming—its target was the institute’s Cultivation Room.

That’s why it instinctively hovered around her looking for an opportunity, but ultimately didn’t attack her due to the “same kind” relationship.

Although it was unclear and hard to imagine how a fish egg, not even fully hatched, could carry such a purposeful mandate.

The danger level of a mutant organism combined with high intelligence is incalculable.

“But I never came into contact with it. How did it…” Cheng Ming was enlightened, then confused again.

Just as she was about to say that the creature couldn’t have gotten her genes, she paused, suddenly remembering something.

When the fish egg was still concealed within the planula larva in its transparent “sea urchin” form, she had Little Ming implant conidia.

Was it because of that?

If so, shouldn’t it have become Little Ming?

Or were they coexisting, their genes in a state of fusion?

Thinking for too long made her head hurt again.

“Forget it…” Qu Ying looked at the trash can and sighed, reflecting on herself. “I was too busy, too, and didn’t check on you often enough.”

“…” Cheng Ming meekly acquiesced.

The apple was completely peeled. Qu Ying picked up the apple and bit into it herself. She took a loud crunch without blinking.

The person on the hospital bed was stunned.

Meeting her incredulous gaze, Qu Ying glanced over and sneered. “Don’t look, you can’t eat this.”

Sister, aren’t you here to visit? How can you steal the fruit you brought for the patient… Cheng Ming didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

Knock-knock—

A nurse’s voice came from outside the door. “Hello! Doctor’s rounds.”

The knocking interrupted them.

Qu Ying finished the last bite of the apple, tossing the core into the trash can. “Get well soon. I’ll find you when you’re discharged.”

She stood up, picked up an inverted glass cup, and poured a liquid from the thermos kettle.

Cheng Ming looked closely. It was a yellowish color—juice.

She looked at the trash can again. Parts of the peel she had just sliced off were mottled with brown from bruising; it couldn’t be kept for long.

The nurse entered the room. Qu Ying handed the apple juice to her. “Drink this. I’m leaving now.”

Cheng Ming was touched.

Carefully cupping the warm glass with the hand that had the IV needle in it, she suddenly remembered a question and asked, “Where did the juicer come from?”

“From your fellow patient,” she picked up her coat nearby, paused, and thought for a moment. “Is it—’Big Yellow’ [Rhubarb], right?”

Cheng Ming: “…”

Little Huang, you’ve been promoted.