After Being Parasiticized By A Monster - Chapter 34

Chapter 34: “I Want to Do Last Night’s Thing to You Again.”

The dream was chaotic.

It began with endless darkness, where unseen monsters seemed to hide, watching and studying her with deep, faint eyes.

A desire to escape arose, but algae-like filaments grew out of the dark, filling the void, engulfing her snow-white toes, and climbing upward along the undulating muscles and protruding bones, outlining the curves of her body.

The blurry figure moved closer. A familiar sense of security diluted the fear. She leaned against the headboard, instinctively and gently accepting “her.”

Her fingertips stroked the other’s back, finding delicate, hard scales—firm, yet not rough, smooth and flexible.

The space between her knees was also wet and cold.

Gazing down confusedly, a fish tail was pressed tightly against her. Its blue, fluorescent tip joyfully swayed, occasionally brushing her ankle, arousing a tingling, dizzying sensation.

In a daze, she realized she wasn’t in the room, but under the sea.

A warm bed layered with countless bl00d-red shells.

The “she” on top of her burrowed into her embrace like an infant demanding maternal nourishment, grinding and turning. But the suckling gradually changed. Her breathing deepened, and broken moans spilled from her mouth.

Amid the light wrapping and slow friction, a sudden sharp sting. A foreign object was embedding itself beneath her skin.

Like a bee sting, she struggled slightly, trying to push away, but the swarming fungal threads tightened around her. She dimly realized that this thing wanted to drill entirely into her shell, to merge with her.

The secret, beautiful dream turned into a literal nightmare. Her nerves suddenly snapped taut. Cheng Ming woke up.

Morning light flooded the room, bright and clear throughout.

The winter sun slanted in from the distant south, stripped of its heat by the cold air along the way, like translucent ice.

Last night was too tumultuous. She had forgotten to close the curtains before sleeping.

The white light hurt her eyes. Cheng Ming first raised her elbow to shield them in confusion. As she turned over, her wrist pressed against the “hair” cushioning her—it was icy cold and damp.

Instantly, her consciousness fully returned. She retracted her hand as if burned, nearly rolling off the bed, blanket and all.

“Cheng Ming…” Completely unaware of her panic, the parasite inside her spoke in a lazy tone. It was clear its mood was good. “Good morning~”

However, hearing that voice, Cheng Ming felt utterly terrible.

Her breathing was a disorganized, fragmented melody. She ignored it, found a hair tie, and forcefully bound the fungal threads that looked more like they had been harshly misused by her.

She reached an arm out of the covers, intending to pick up her clothes, but realized they weren’t nearby.

She decided to forget it. She sat up just like that, her face cold. Her hands were still a bit stiff. She fumbled clumsily in the drawer for nail clippers.

The thought that it watched everything she did through her own eyes—something she hadn’t cared much about before—was now truly unbearable.

What could be more humiliating than shame?

It was the fact that the culprit who caused it all didn’t even give her a chance to recover alone, but was constantly watching closely, empathically experiencing her breakdown.

“Why are you clipping your nails?”

As expected, Little Ming started its daily interrogation.

Click—

She clipped the uneven edge of her index finger, wishing she could seal off all her senses. If she couldn’t see, it would lose its source of information.

Why, why? Heh, what else could it be?

Cheng Ming gave up trying to hide. “Because you hurt me!”

“…”

A period of silence fell over the room.

After a short pause, perhaps recalling the scene, it finally offered a heartfelt, sincere apology: “I’ll be careful next time.”

Hearing the lingering tone in its voice, Cheng Ming regretted not being mute. “There won’t be a next time!”

“Then why are you clipping your nails?” Its logic was surprisingly rigorous.

“…” Cheng Ming closed her eyes, murmuring desperately, “Shut up.”

…

The Truth of Desire

Finally dressed, just before leaving the bedroom, she caught a glimpse of a reflection in the corner of the room.

She quickly changed course. Cheng Ming pulled a dust cover from the wardrobe, completely shrouded the mirror, and tied the corners into tight knots. Out of sight, out of mind.

“You—”

Little Ming had just started one word when she angrily cut it off: “You are not allowed to speak!”

She hadn’t eaten much last night, but she had expended a lot of energy.

Waking up early, she felt slightly faint from hunger. After a search in the kitchen, she couldn’t find anything suitable for a quick meal. She finally dug up a bag of aged rice cereal from an old trunk, mixed it with water, and sat on the sofa, holding the bowl and spacing out.

She finally had time to try to organize her chaotic thoughts… but found it was impossible to start.

Partner. What does it mean to be a partner?

Would it truly stay with her for life?

Life is long, full of uncertainties; life is also short. Did she really have to take time out to deal with her relationship issues with a monster?

Anger, shame, shock, confusion, helplessness… a mix of emotions piled up, making her chest heavy.

“Why do you want to be my partner?” She tried to calm herself and began the conversation. “Do you truly understand the meaning of that word in human society?”

“…”

The fish-fungus, currently under a gag order, didn’t utter a sound.

Cheng Ming couldn’t stand it. “Speak!”

“I understand,” Little Ming said, enduring its host’s mood swings. “Creatures with two sexes have partners.”

Its tone was flat and matter-of-fact, yet she could still strangely detect a hint of resentment.

It sounded like it was questioning: Who are you to doubt my feelings for you?

“…” Cheng Ming took a deep breath.

Describing it from a biological perspective was even more absurd.

What were they? Cross-species homosexuality?

“Most creatures mate based on reproductive needs. Humans often cloak mating in more grand-sounding reasons, such as love, compatibility, or life goals…” Cheng Ming asked, “Then what is it for you?”

Her voice slowed, her words calm.

Since things had come to this, hiding in her shell and feigning ignorance would not help their relationship.

She couldn’t avoid it. She had to take on the role of the surgeon, dissecting herself and dissecting it.

Physical intimacy did not equate to spiritual resonance.

Little Ming seemed to sink into thought. After a long time, it slowly said:

“Love is a good answer. I’d like to say that, and you’d probably be happy to hear it… but I think if I actually answered that, you wouldn’t believe it.”

It truly understood her.

Anyone observed and scrutinized 24/7, inside and out, would be thoroughly dismantled… It could even perceive the changes and fluctuations in her brain’s neurotransmitters and electrochemical signals. This was practically cheating.

Therefore, her hesitation, unease, and worry were essentially due to the asymmetry of information between them—

She didn’t understand it.

At least not the way it understood her.

That’s truly unfair, Cheng Ming thought quietly.

She knew this was a danger sign.

The moment she felt the inequality, it proved she longed to step into its inner world.

But did this thing even have an inner world?

Could its words be trusted?

Was its existence truly harmless?

Was its instinct to possess her or to occupy her?

Because of fear, she resisted.

“In fact, I really don’t understand what you call love—hormones? Emotional experience? Physiological desire? How is that any different from what you deem as lower ‘animals’?”

Its way of thinking and speaking were very similar to Cheng Ming’s. Rather than imitation, it felt more like a new sprout directly originating from the other side of her soul, growing from old wood.

“But I want to be bound in an intimate relationship with you. I cannot accept you having other partners,” Little Ming stated.

Very candid.

So, it had simply felt a sudden sense of crisis, worried that her mobile bl00d bag would encounter an accident, and wanted to stabilize the relationship between the parasite and the host.

Cheng Ming scoffed, her lips curling into a cold, sarcastic smile. “But we are already intimate enough.”

Before its disrespectful actions began, she had already stated her attitude. Yet, it had still fabricated an imaginary enemy and proceeded unilaterally based on its own delusion.

“I want to do last night’s thing to you again,” it stated, not at all subtly. “You were very tempting without clothes, and it was very pleasurable to do.”

Every word was pronounced clearly and distinctly. There was no room for mishearing.

Cheng Ming: “…”

Okay, that’s enough! No need to talk anymore!

It just desired her and didn’t know how to control itself!

She had seen enough people, but too few monsters wearing human skin.

Such blatant, undisguised words were something she’d never encountered. The shock made her ears buzz. Her heart pumped an excessive amount of bl00d, slamming against her arterial valves, making her head pound.

“Does that mean…” After receiving no response for a long time, Little Ming asked with rigorous politeness, “Can one do that to you even if they are not your partner?”

The person sitting stiffly on the sofa, clutching the porcelain cup, flushed crimson as if burned by fire, suffocating to the point of extinction—with anger.

“No!”

Cheng Ming seemed to lose all sensation. She grabbed the scalding rice cereal and took a mouthful, only to feel like she had swallowed molten lava. It rolled from her tongue down her esophagus. The burn made her drop the cup with a smash and frantically get up for water.

After chugging half a glass of cold water, washing away the heat from her esophagus and brain, she returned, much calmer.

“Are you alright?” Little Ming asked with careful, considerate concern.

But when you’re annoyed with someone, everything they do is wrong. Cheng Ming felt it was being pretentious and wanted to smother it in the rice cereal—if only she could.

After painfully calming her mood, she looked down at her reddened fingertips. She hypothesized an extreme scenario. “If I die, will this body belong to you?”

“No,” its voice softened. “I will only perish with you.”

“A love suicide?” Cheng Ming tossed out the question, unable to tell if she was mocking it or herself.

“Yes.”

“…”

It said yes.

Cheng Ming was silent, then laughed again, a sound of self-derision. “Do you understand human emotion…?”

“Maybe not. But I understand you.”

She took a deep breath, looked at the rice cereal, and having learned her lesson, used a spoon to cool it down before putting it in her mouth.

After forcing down a few spoonfuls, she slowly said, “Let me think about it…”

It was too bizarre. What normal person could accept a parasite proposing to be her partner, and… Thinking about last night, she had the urge to bury her face in the sofa cushions.

What had it been watching? Where did it learn all this…?

She now felt the sorrow and outrage of a parent who had failed to raise their child properly.

“Before that—” Cheng Ming emphasized the old command, gritting her teeth. “You must respect my thoughts! You are not allowed to move my body without permission!”

Little Ming: “But your thoughts clearly…”

The mouth can lie, but the body cannot.

Her s3x hormone levels, her sensory arousal, her brain’s active regions… Everything about her was laid bare before it, completely exposed, naked.

“Shut up!” Cheng Ming’s volume suddenly increased. Flushed with shame and anger, she fiercely amended her demand. “Respect the wishes I speak out loud, okay?”

“Fine…” Unable to find a loophole, it said regretfully, “I understand.”

It agreed perfectly. The next second, it became slightly restless again.

“Your esophagus seems to be injured.” The fungal threads escaped the hair tie and tentatively reached toward her. “Should I help you…”

The scene was a replay of last night. Cheng Ming was mortified. “Get lost!”

…

The Woman in the Dark

The Institute Building.

Ding-dong.

The holiday was over. The busy work schedule had resumed.

Cheng Ming was at the North Building handing over holiday matters to various labs when she received a notification from Song Manqing. Checking her phone, the timing was just right.

The Post-New-Year meeting was standard procedure, an important organizational juncture, but she didn’t know why the notification was so last-minute.

She didn’t have time for lunch. She rushed to the West Building 101 seamlessly.

She was often on this floor, but the meeting room was a new, unfamiliar partition, located far inside.

She wound her way through the corridors to the entrance. She pushed the door and stepped in. The light was dim.

The overhead lights weren’t on. The light came only from a row of windows opposite her.

This room actually faced the ocean without obstruction. However, the sky was overcast. Thick clouds roiled, and the distant sea was also pitch black.

She didn’t look closely, her attention returning to the room.

A quick scan showed it wasn’t a normal meeting area. It looked more like a classroom—spacious, with a blackboard, a white screen, a podium, and chairs arranged in perfect order, empty and deserted.

Too early? Or did I go to the wrong room?

Cheng Ming was puzzled.

She wanted to step back out to check the door plaque. She twisted the handle. Click-clack. The spindle seized up.

The door was locked.

In an instant, thoughts like “unexpected incident,” “Song Manqing tricked me,” and “this is a trap” flashed through her mind. A chill ran down her spine.

She looked down, intently studying the keyhole to figure out a solution, when a voice sounded behind her—

“Cheng Ming.”

Spinning around, she finally noticed that someone was sitting in the corner by the podium.

It was a blind spot—lightless under the light. The person’s clothes were dark, so she had completely overlooked them.

And there was only that one person.

It wasn’t the young Ms. Song, but an old woman.

Professor Jin Xia, the academic doyenne, wearing a dark woolen coat as if attending a funeral, sat alone in the sealed room, her back to the black ocean, waiting for her arrival.

With a strange smile on her face, she asked: “Do you know about the ‘Mermaid’?”