After Being Parasiticized By A Monster - Chapter 33

Chapter 33: You’re Beautiful Even Without Clothes.

Han Xuhua and Cheng Ming were nearly polar opposites in personality.

Han Xuhua disliked cultural classes, and her perpetually late homework included biology. As the class representative, Cheng Ming couldn’t just ignore it… This was how their initial interactions began.

Their early dynamic was roughly that of the classic overachiever and the slacker, mutually disdainful. Their internal appraisals of each other were:

“Teacher’s lapdog” and “Dog wouldn’t even touch that.”

This changed during an unexpected encounter during a wall-climbing incident.

One person, forced to take a shortcut because she was late, crouched halfway on a wall, watching passersby warily like an untamed stray cat.

Cheng Ming merely glanced out of the corner of her eye and continued walking as if she were blind.

Han Xuhua called out in surprise: “You’re not going to report me to the teacher?”

Cheng Ming was bewildered: “Why would I care?”

In her teenage years, she was even worse at maintaining social relationships than she was now.

Han Xuhua jumped down and chattered after her: “Where are you going?”

She was a little suspicious, afraid this good student was one of those who acted one way in public and another way in private.

Cheng Ming answered expressionlessly: “Why would you care?”

Han Xuhua: “…”

Was this the legendary universal sentence that could answer most questions in the world?

Later, both unexpectedly found each other comfortable to be around and quite to their liking.

Cheng Ming found that Han Xuhua didn’t approach her with utilitarian motives like asking questions or copying homework—the girl had no self-awareness about studying whatsoever. Han Xuhua found that when Cheng Ming shed her class representative shell, she genuinely didn’t meddle in others’ business. The nicer way to put it was strong personal boundaries; the harsher way was self-centeredness.

However, their relationship stopped there; they weren’t close friends. Han Xuhua just often called her “Class Rep” irreverently or cheekily messed up her hair whenever they passed by.

In short, their three years as classmates were pleasant enough.

Afterward, they went their separate ways.

Han Xuhua predictably abandoned the path of knowledge-changing-destiny and plunged into military academy. Although she still couldn’t escape the torment of coursework, it at least offered her a better chance at survival than pursuing academics.

After years of going in opposite directions, they circled back and reunited at the Defense Center.

Han Xuhua’s world was novel and distant to Cheng Ming.

But some people just have this ability, as if they never change, never having any distance between them.

Listening to her ramble casually, the long years were smoothly erased. It felt as if only a winter break had ended, and after this meal, they would meet again on campus.

After catching up on their respective recent lives, Han Xuhua’s second aunt brought over dishes and interjected casually: “Such a pretty girl. Do you have a boyfriend?”

The topic was derailed instantly.

“Oh, right. Are you seeing anyone?” Han Xuhua asked excitedly.

This is the Spring Festival, not springtime, is it…? Cheng Ming almost choked, unexpectedly facing a second round of interrogation after Professor Jiang.

She coughed twice, reluctantly put down her chopsticks, and looked up at her friend. “I might not be interested in men.”

She spoke quite vaguely.

“Huh?” Han Xuhua was taken aback. Meeting Cheng Ming’s direct gaze, she suddenly understood something, tucked her hair behind her ear, and was inexplicably shy. “Then, well, do you look at me—”

Huh?

This time, Cheng Ming genuinely choked.

The joke was too big. She was crying and laughing at the same time.

Are you misunderstanding something…? You must be misunderstanding something!

“I’m not interested in people.”

“Ah—” Han Xuhua dragged out the end of her voice, looking deeply disappointed. “Then you…”

She was about to ask something else. Clatter. Cheng Ming stood up.

Her bowl and chopsticks clanked together. She apologized: “I need to use the restroom.”

The shop was a converted residence. The restroom was a normal home-style single stall, spotlessly clean.

Cheng Ming went in and locked the door. Looking at the mirror over the sink, she frowned. “What are you doing?”

That last sentence hadn’t been hers.

The parasite inside her had suddenly spoken, startling her.

Little Ming remained silent for a moment, then said: “Go back. I just felt a little uncomfortable.”

Aside from the previous encounter with Qu Ying, this was the first time it had cut her off in front of an outsider. Cheng Ming was initially bursting with anger but paused at its words. “What’s wrong with you?”

“…”

It stammered, becoming more silent the more she pressed.

Cheng Ming grew more anxious, her eyes darkening. “Let me see.”

She had always worried about potential side effects from the drug. Yet, she could only confirm her own body was fine, never knowing its true condition.

She wanted it to reveal its original form.

Silence lingered in the locked space. After an unknown period, it called her name in a low voice. “Cheng Ming.”

It was like a wisp of smoke rising from hot water, light and damp.

She looked where it directed. The space outside the door was warmer. The mirror was slightly misty with water vapor. Through the light fog, she saw her own, or rather, “her” eyes.

A floating light flickered in the depths of the pupils, like a lake during a downpour. From this point, the surrounding skin also began to ripple and flow, as fluorescent blue, fine scales spread.

The siren slowly took form beneath her flesh and bl00d.

It was truly beautiful.

She gazed at it, holding her breath, silently marveling.

Perhaps it was the common reaction of all biological scholars facing a bizarre and beautiful creature. Cheng Ming was slightly in a daze.

She had seen it once before, but seeing it again was still so breathtaking, her gaze stuck like quicksand.

It gazed back at her, unblinking, its captivating eyes blurring the boundary between the sacred and the demonic.

Thump-thump—

A knock on the door broke the eye contact.

“Cheng Ming? Are you okay?” Han Xuhua asked from outside.

She wasn’t knocking hard, but to Cheng Ming, it was like a balloon popping next to her ear, making half her head numb.

Snapping back to awareness, she realized with a start that she was very close to the mirror. She suddenly took a large step back, as if facing a terrifying beast.

The gorgeous, strange fish scales rapidly disappeared beneath her skin. Her chest heaved violently a few times. Catching her breath, she leaned against the door and replied: “I’m fine.”

…

An Unsettling Question

Back in the dining area, the rest of the meal was flavorless.

Unfortunately, the person opposite her was oblivious, continuously dunking food and putting it in her bowl.

Eventually, Cheng Ming suggested leaving first, apologized awkwardly, and smiled: “I’ll treat this time. Let’s arrange another time, and you can treat me then.”

“Huh? Why don’t you take some leftovers for a late-night snack?”

Han Xuhua was not one to be fussy. She didn’t object to the arrangement but was confused by Cheng Ming’s haste.

I don’t think the leftovers look like enough for you to eat… Cheng Ming politely declined her offer, suppressing a smile.

Watching Cheng Ming leave, her second aunt, who had been observing for most of the day, finally nudged her with an elbow, meaningfully indicating: “Aha, not interested in men.”

“She’s not even interested in people.”

Han Xuhua’s shoulders slumped. She hugged her bowl and retreated to a corner.

…

Cheng Ming hurried back to her apartment.

The parasite remained silent the entire way, making her extremely uneasy.

Finally reaching her destination, she slammed the door shut, tossed aside her jacket, and walked into the bedroom.

“What exactly is wrong with you?” she asked.

Another moment of silence.

Little Ming didn’t answer directly but asked an irrelevant question: “What does ‘having a partner’ mean?”

“Why are you asking that?” Cheng Ming’s heart slightly sank.

It was acting very abnormally.

It had been acting abnormally all day.

Of course, she knew she was acting a bit abnormally too.

Since its awakening.

Since dozens of days of silence and isolation.

Since she could no longer comfortably face the mirror.

Cheng Ming’s expression couldn’t help but darken. “Can’t you look up what you don’t understand?”

“I did.”

Under her gaze, it curled its fungal threads around her phone and slowly read out the information, word by word.

“It is typically used to describe a relationship between two people who are dating and may be considering a future together. From an emotional perspective, they share joy and sorrow; from a social perspective, they exhibit an intimacy different from ordinary friends; from a life perspective, they handle trivial matters together; from a life-long perspective, they aspire to spend their lives together, growing and supporting each other…”

She seemed to anticipate what it was about to say. Her heart rate quickened.

Every word and sentence felt like a flame scorching her heart. She wanted to tell it to stop, but that would make her appear too guilty. She could only listen as it asked the question that followed, amid her nearly bursting heartbeat—

“So, are we partners?”

The question was so sudden and bizarre that her first reaction was simply to be stumped. She couldn’t offer any coherent reply.

“No!” Cheng Ming denied vehemently.

“Why? Every point clearly fits our current situation,” it said. “And you wanted to kiss me.”

The incident was finally brought up. In an instant, Cheng Ming wished she could evaporate into a liquid.

“That’s sophistry!”

She didn’t know how to logically refute it. Her voice was too fast and sharp. Oxygen couldn’t keep up with her demand for air, and her breathing became ragged.

“Fine…” Little Ming’s voice dropped. Cheng Ming thought it was about to express resentment, but immediately after, it said something else—

“Then you won’t have a partner.”

A chilling, sinister tone.

The eyes of the person in the mirror were cold and deep. When they looked out of the glass, they made her heart slightly tremble.

“What do you mean?” Her breathing slowed.

When humanity is pale and shallow, the animalistic nature—that kind of possessiveness, cruelty, and selfishness—is starkly defined. It even triggered Cheng Ming’s primal alertness; the hairs on the back of her neck stood up.

Not wanting to look at those eyes anymore, she backed away step by step, avoiding the full-length mirror, and sat on the edge of the bed.

This monster, dwelling in her shell, was never benevolent.

It was only because they had coexisted peacefully for too long that she had forgotten the bloody struggle she once had with it.

She stared at the blank wall, slowly repeating: “What do you mean?”

“The literal meaning,” it said softly. “If anyone is closer to you than I am, I will kill them.”

This possessiveness…

Amid the horror and absurdity, Cheng Ming inexplicably found it funny.

She actually laughed, with a third of the tone being mockery: “Who could possibly be closer to me than you?”

How else could one be closer? Chew her up and swallow her whole?

“So, why can’t we be partners?” it persisted stubbornly. “Is it because we are still missing one step?”

“What?” Cheng Ming’s smile faded. She didn’t understand.

Its wording was strange, making her feel an unprovoked sense of danger.

Her body started to feel cold. She wanted to reach for her jacket, but as soon as she tried to move, she realized she couldn’t.

“What are you doing?”

She panicked.

It was undoing her buttons.

One button after another, like secretly picking cherries from a branch—awkward and unfamiliar, yet the secret joy and excitement were impossible to conceal.

Until the hand slipped lower and lower. Cheng Ming finally understood. “Stop it—”

The sentence was cut short. A low gasp, “Ah,” escaped her lips.

Her own hand, her own skin, the parts she should know best—yet, when her fingertips kneaded those soft curves, the chill made her shiver.

She couldn’t control her limbs, but her five senses hadn’t been stripped away. On the contrary, when her body couldn’t move, all her senses became more acute.

Especially her sense of touch.

Not just the hand. The hair draped behind her shoulder also began to writhe on its own, climbing and wrapping around her body. The tips of those fungal threads seemed to be covered in countless suckers, leaving an ambiguous red mark along the way.

“W-wuh…” She panted rapidly, tears choking her, desperately screaming in panic. “Stop!”

“You clearly want me badly. I felt it in front of the mirror at the shop.”

It dissected the humiliating fact with an almost sexless tone, every word precise—

You desire me, so I am now granting your wish.

The room was absurdly silent, as if cut off from the rest of the world. Only her, or rather, their, breathing was clearly audible.

The mirror wasn’t facing the bed, but the fungal threads, boldly crawling over almost the entire bedroom, slid across and turned the full-length mirror toward her.

And, with particular malice, it pulled the mirror closer.

Cheng Ming’s eyelashes fluttered. She looked up in terror. In her chaotic, blurry vision, she had never seen herself look so seductive.

The mirror reflected a naked female torso, long legs crossed and slanted, the contours winding and shapely, glowing white in the cool light.

But that white was quickly invaded by black. The insidious threads penetrated everywhere, winding and climbing, like white snow being defiled. Lust and desire had a clear background to serve as their vehicle.

Her face flushed crimson. Her heartbeat was running on overdrive, so violently it felt like it would burst from her chest. All she could hear were gasps.

“You’re beautiful even without clothes,” it praised.

“…”

You didn’t say that before! Cheng Ming desperately wanted to curse it, but she had no strength left.

She couldn’t tell whose control the body was under.

Like a boat tossed by the waves needing an anchor, she tried desperately to reach for something, but when she turned her hand, she didn’t touch the sheet. She grasped the dense fungal threads, was yanked, dragged back, stripped of her initiative, and pulled into a new cycle of swaying and submerging.

She also couldn’t tell if the sensation was hers or its own.

In the same body, heartbeats intertwined, hormones fused. Neural signals surged like colossal fireworks. She didn’t know whose thoughts were influencing whose, or whose surge of emotion was driving whose tide of lust.

She tried to deceive herself, but it spoke: “You are very comfortable. Why won’t you admit it?”

So Cheng Ming gnashed her teeth, sobbing brokenly: “You. Shut. Up!”