After Being Parasiticized By A Monster - Chapter 35

Chapter 35: Is She Supposed to Reproduce Asexually with It?

“Professor Jin Xia…”

Cheng Ming stood still.

From this position, she was directly facing the light streaming in through the window, meaning her expression would be completely visible to the person opposite her.

“Mermaid?” After a brief silence, she controlled her features, choosing her words carefully, and feigned incomprehension. “The creature of legend?”

“Hehe, yes,” Jin Xia laughed, fine lines gathering at the corners of her eyes. “It was a topic I researched in the past. Have a seat.”

She gestured to the opposite chair. Cheng Ming obediently stepped forward and sat down.

“Do they really exist?” She couldn’t quite gauge what the other person was referring to.

“Who knows. Some people claim these creatures exist and sent the scales they found to research institutes. Genetic testing confirmed they don’t match any existing fish species.”

“That just means it’s a new species,” Cheng Ming mused.

“Yes,” Professor Jin Xia smiled. “There is still no consensus on what ‘mermaid’ refers to in ancient texts. Some say it’s a dugong, others a dolphin, or a manatee… In short, they’re generally believed to be marine mammals.”

Unsure why the professor had led her here to discuss this, Cheng Ming suppressed her vague unease and listened.

“Your mother was in the History Department. She was very interested in this. Her undergraduate thesis was an investigation into the origins of the mermaid,” the professor changed the subject. “She came to me with questions. I saw she had the foundation and even asked her to work with me. Unfortunately, she had already chosen her advisor by then.”

She spoke with a tone of regret.

Cheng Ming was very surprised.

She was unaware of these old stories. She had always thought Cheng Ran studied biology exclusively.

“The next time we met was one summer vacation. We went out to sea, tracking traces of mermaids, and she signed up to join us. We spent a full two months, drifting over two thousand nautical miles…”

Tracking mermaids?

The topic seemed to be heading into a completely unexpected area. Cheng Ming couldn’t help but ask, “Did you find anything?”

Jin Xia countered, “Did your mother never mention any of this to you?”

Seeing Cheng Ming shake her head, the professor sighed faintly, sounding a little disappointed.

“No findings. But…”

“What?” Cheng Ming waited for the continuation, but the professor kept her in suspense. She looked up in confusion.

There it was again, that knowing smile.

Wrinkled eyelids lifting, Professor Jin Xia’s aged pupils sparkled. “Cheng Ming, are you interested in learning about her experiment back then?”

…

The Jiao-Ren (Siren/Mermaid)

Hundreds of nautical miles away, the dark, vast sea stretched boundlessly.

There were no birds, no fish. No land could be seen in any direction.

As far as the eye could see, the only moving objects, besides the rising and falling waves, were three military vessels.

Clad in thick protective armor and powered by nuclear fusion, the enormous ships that had seemed so imposing when docked now appeared incredibly small before nature, seemingly moments away from being swallowed by a single wave.

The vessels were sealed, isolating radiation.

Inside the operations room, a holographic display showed electronic charts, target waypoints, and other real-time information. As it switched screens, the intersecting light and cool, dark tones filled the interior with a cybernetic dazzle.

“Currently, the ‘Sub-Parasite’ activity is rapidly declining. We estimate a twenty-minute window after release. Once the target is missed, it may escape permanently, so we must be quick once we enter the range…”

The “Sub-Parasite” was the creature formally named “Jiao” (Siren/Mermaid), which developed into a juvenile after the monster’s egg parasitized a terrestrial animal.

It has been confirmed that they are produced through a special parthenogenesis process—a form of replication of the original body—including a “neural germ” formed by the dedifferentiation of mature neurons, which stores some memory information of the adult.

This explains why the juvenile possesses the high intelligence to choose a human host to conceal itself, and why it can execute specific tasks like “destroying the cultivation room.”

Although that unlucky fish egg was quite thoroughly damaged by Cheng Ming, live cells were promptly cryo-preserved. Now, after modification, the Security Department is using its biochemical information to track the mother body in reverse.

Staff members were explaining the principles at the front. The crowd listened. Qu Ying wasn’t interested in this. She lazily raised an arm. “I need to confirm: is the objective to capture, drive away, or eliminate?”

She cut straight to the chase.

“Live capture.”

Normally, these two words mean increased difficulty, but in this mission, it was slightly different—

“Their self-healing ability is formidable. It’s not advisable to waste time attempting to kill them.”

“That outlandish?” Someone in the team was clearly unconvinced, even eager to try. “Even a fire cannon to the head won’t kill it?”

“You idiot, that would destroy the specimen,” a teammate next to him mocked, finding a flaw in the logic. “Such a beautiful thing, and you want to spoil it?”

Immediately, some agreed, others joined the argument, and the atmosphere in the operations room grew lively.

“Everyone,” someone tapped a pen lightly to signal a reminder.

They were all well-trained combat personnel. They immediately quieted down at the sound.

“Allow me to remind you: you are about to face a legendary creature that has left an indelible mark on global history—the Mermaid.”

The experimenter who spoke had two braided pigtails and, as always, a gentle smile. She sounded more like an AI, her language filled with poetry—

“In ancient times, they were called the Jiao-Ren.”

…

The Paper Slip

Cheng Ming walked out the door, her hands casually tucked into the pockets of her lab coat, as if taking an after-meal stroll. The blocks of gray ocean outside the window were steadily left behind her.

She knew the old professor’s eyes were still on her, but she didn’t look back until the door closed again, blocking the view.

They had to leave separately, at least ensuring their exit times didn’t completely overlap.

As she passed the door plaque, she looked up.

Room 10143, the last partition on this floor.

Many numbers in the Defense Center were related to 43. For example, the Institute Building was said to have 343 floors and was 1043 meters tall.

To commemorate the New Era of Marine Pollution—the year 2143.

“Write it down, then destroy it. If you’re interested, you can come back to me when you have enough clearance.”

The hoarse, gentle voice still echoed in her ears. Her fingers, hidden in her coat pocket, were silently rubbing a piece of paper.

She had just looked at it. It was thin, gray, and looked like a scrap carelessly torn from a school newsletter. No one would notice if it were tossed into the trash.

But a string of numbers was written on it.

Unrelated to 2143.

Or perhaps related.

“Do you trust her?” the parasite asked in her mind.

“What do you mean?” Cheng Ming countered.

“I don’t think she means well,” Little Ming said straightforwardly, perhaps a biological intuition.

Using such an underhanded method to lure her here and say such baffling things was hard not to be wary of.

Cheng Ming was distracted: “Maybe…”

But the other party had mentioned Cheng Ran.

This was like dangling the most delicious bait in front of a starving fish. Even worrying about a trap, she couldn’t help but want to test the waters.

She clenched the paper slip in her palm like a Pandora’s box, quietly exhaled, and suppressed the agitation in her heart.

At least she didn’t have the ability to open it yet. Focusing on the present was more realistic.

The message sent by “Song Manqing” had been overwritten with a genuine meeting notice when she next checked it.

The time was 5:00 PM, and the location had also changed.

It was as if she had never been invited to Room 10143, merely having a dream during a nap.

If not for the gray slip of paper in her pocket.

But she neither mentioned nor asked about it, returning to work as scheduled.

As if nothing had happened.

The work of isolating and identifying the virus was complete. The resulting inactivated biological preparation was named Algae-Fungus Toxin No. 1. The infection mechanism was primarily membrane fusion and cell wall destruction. The host range was mainly confined to the fungal class. At least, it showed no obvious harm to common animals and plants. The preliminary safety inspection was passed.

Research had advanced to a new stage, about to enter the first field trial. The team members unanimously activated the passive overtime skill.

Ms. Song was no exception. Predictably, she started her quiet competition with Cheng Ming again. She wouldn’t leave until Cheng Ming did.

However, she hadn’t criticized Cheng Ming much anymore. Perhaps because the recent research tasks were demanding, the team finally felt a bit like a team. Cheng Ming simply assumed she was genuinely passionate about her work.

The only discomfort was being watched by Song Manqing during the day and enduring the parasite’s harassment at night.

The bathroom, far from being a shield, seemed to have become the parasite’s point of excitement.

After a long day’s work, Cheng Ming returned to her apartment. The moment she took off her clothes, Little Ming emerged.

It asked: “Have you made up your mind?”

Standing barefoot on the tiled floor, her neck felt a bit itchy. She looked down and saw the fungal threads rubbing and attempting to slide down to her shoulder. She almost blacked out.

Grabbing a rubber band, Cheng Ming forcibly bundled them, tied them tight, and covered them snugly with a shower cap, feeling both shame and anger. “No!”

“Then when will you decide?”

“Can’t you think about anything else?”

But this was clearly asking too much of a simple, pure, and unpretentious fish-fungus.

“The most important thing in the life of most creatures is reproduction. Only you humans are the anomaly…”

Cheng Ming slammed the hot water valve open. Her cheeks were flushed red like apples from the steam. “Is this about reproduction?!”

Is she supposed to reproduce asexually with it? (Parthenogenesis)

Who said this monster was simple? It knew how to twist concepts.

“Fine, you can continue thinking,” seeing that further questioning would only irritate its host, Little Ming thoughtfully backed down a step. “I’ll ask again tomorrow.”

Cheng Ming: “…”

…

The Informant

Twenty kilometers outside the quarantine line, in a secluded corner far from the main road, a small patch of clean, intact, low-rise buildings was rarely seen in the wilderness scarred by pollution.

It looked like a holiday resort, with a streamlined, gray dolphin exterior, interspersed with mother-of-pearl white, looking opulent. Compared to the often minimalist, almost shabby-looking Defense Center, this place was clearly not reserved for ordinary people.

Just days after Cheng Ming left Room 10143, Professor Jin Xia was invited away from the West Building of the institute.

She was now sitting in a room in this building, still wearing the dark, funeral-like attire, strikingly out of place with the meticulously crafted surroundings.

She looked up silently. Before her was a large screen—no, not a screen.

It was a one-way mirror.

“Professor Jin, why bother?” A voice, impossible to tell if male or female, came from behind the glass. The person spoke with genuine regret. “You could have enjoyed your later years.”

“I was merely recruiting talent. I gave her my contact information,” Jin Xia said with little emotion. “She’s quite good.”

Gentleness can sometimes be a form of aura. To be calm and unperturbed in any circumstance requires a powerful inner resolve.

“Yet she is the daughter of a traitor. The fact that she’s still alive shows how magnanimous our superiors are.”

Every word used sounded ridiculous, but Jin Xia showed no amusement.

She sighed. “You view people with too much prejudice.”

“You violated the rules, Professor Jin.”

Jin Xia shook her head, an expression of helplessness and powerlessness.

Finally, she let out another long sigh and vouched with the authority accumulated over many years: “None of my students are involved.”

“Of course, we trust you.”

The person on the other side of the one-way mirror said respectfully, carrying an innate sense of insincere piety.

It had to be admitted that this was a talent.

The talent to easily anger the person they were speaking to.

Two days later, at 00:14, in the basement of the Security Department Building.

The armed forces of the Logistics Security Department, also known as the “Logistics Army,” usually point their guns at monsters, not humans. Yet, even with a more benign title, they were still part of the regular military, adhering to strict discipline.

Unlike the institute, when work ended here, it ended. Overnight stays were prohibited except for patrol teams, with violations incurring penalties.

However, at this moment, on the edge of the silent parking garage, behind rows of uniformly arranged steel behemoths, a woman with a bob haircut parted in the middle was pacing back and forth.

“I refuse this mission. The institute’s interior is outside our jurisdiction. This is deep-sea fishing, and entrapment…” Her speech accelerated. The teeth she was grinding were subtly radiating anger.

The voice on the other end of the communicator, which could not be distinguished as male or female, clicked its tongue. “Don’t you need more merit to get better gene medication for your sister?”

Yan Li’s unusually anxious footsteps abruptly halted.

“You investigated me?” The usually “honest, law-abiding” Team Leader Yan’s eyes immediately turned fierce.

“What’s there to investigate? Don’t forget how the Binhai Defense Center was established,” the voice on the other end sneered. “Think clearly. We’re not asking you to do anything illegal. If the accusation is successful, it’ll be a huge merit for the Defense Center.”

Merit?

Was it truly merit?

The remnants of conscience churned and shouted in her heart. She didn’t dare to think deeply. She could only cover her ears, close her eyes, and engage in self-deception.

Her sister’s pale, pitiful face was still vivid in her mind. She paused, reached out, and retrieved the card from the trash bin lid again.

She saw the certified photo with accompanying text. A young girl with an inherently cold temperament due to her straight eyebrows and eyes, similar in age to her sister. Her face was somewhat familiar.

A researcher she had encountered once during the last monster cleanup operation and personally rescued—the victim:

Work ID 7086, Cheng Ming.