After Being Parasiticized By A Monster - Chapter 42
Chapter 42: “Wow, You’re So Romantic.”
Project Conclusion and Cheng Ming’s Busy Schedule
With the summary of achievements complete, the project was winding down.
Cheng Ming, as one of the chief project leaders, was still running around frantically, uploading and categorizing reports for review and organizing a series of meetings: finalization seminars, internal evaluations, expert reviews, external assessments, and more.
She was so busy that when she finished reviewing research data at four in the morning, she looked at the glossy black “hair strands” organizing files on her elbow and couldn’t help but exclaim:
“It’s a good thing I have you—”
The mid-section of the fungal strand, curled around a piece of paper, instantly lifted upon hearing her voice. Restrained by the weight of the thick printed paper, its movement was small, but its joy was palpable.
Cheng Ming, focused on the text in her hand, casually finished her sentence:
“I’m no longer afraid of losing my hair. After all, it’s just your fungal threads that are falling out.”
The fungal threads plopped down instantly.
…
Yan Li’s Return Home
The security mission of the Reconnaissance Department’s External Squad 1 concluded with the return from Red Rock Bay.
As the Team Leader, Yan Li also had considerable wrapping-up work: coordinating team priorities, writing reports, attending meetings… After completing everything, she finally had time to return to the residential area.
Unlike the research institute, the Security Department’s architectural style was distinctly more austere. It was built to accommodate sudden combat needs, with ground floors dedicated to equipment storage and military vehicles, and ubiquitous drill and tactical exercise areas. Even in the elevator lobby, one could hear the bang-bang of target practice from the lower levels.
To facilitate rapid assembly, squad members were usually housed in the same building or floor, often sharing multi-person dormitories.
However, Yan Li, being a higher-ranking Team Leader with a dependent, was assigned a family-style apartment in Building 3, while her team members were in Building 1.
Having been away for weeks, she only texted Yan Rong when she arrived downstairs. She knew the stubborn girl would prepare a full table of food if told too early, though her body was unfit for labor.
Access was controlled by strict biometric security doors.
She reached the 17th floor, entered the password, and opened the door.
“Rong—” The word was cut short by a loud thud from inside the moment she pushed the door open.
“Rongrong?”
She frowned, paused, and rushed into the room.
“Are you okay? Why did you fall? Is this wheelchair not working?”
The wheelchair frame was overturned, its wheels spinning uselessly.
The girl on the floor, Yan Rong, looked strikingly similar to Yan Li, also with short hair, but a neat, student-like style that made her look docile compared to Yan Li’s sharp maturity.
“I’m fine…” Yan Rong shook her head and reached out her arms. “Jie-jie (Sister), hug me.”
Yan Li bent down to embrace her.
She intended to lift her by the back of her knees and settle her on the sofa for a quick check. But the moment her hand touched her, Yan Rong pulled down the zipper of her uniform jacket, tore open the collar, and fiercely bit her shoulder.
Like a starving wolf cub, she clamped down and wouldn’t let go.
Yan Li’s muscles tensed momentarily, then slowly relaxed. She said helplessly, “I haven’t showered.”
It was painful, but she didn’t utter a sound, merely raising her hand to gently steady her sister’s head.
She was accustomed to it; it had been this way since childhood.
Many places on her body bore Yan Rong’s tooth marks.
“You haven’t been back for so long…”
The biter sounded more wronged than the bitten, tears welling up in Yan Rong’s eyes.
“Didn’t I call you every day?” Yan Li zipped up her jacket, carried her to the sofa, and stroked her head.
She understood her sister’s somewhat pathological dependence. Yan Rong only had her in the world, and her anxiety was vented through these abnormal displays.
Confirming her sister was unhurt, Yan Li went to check the wheelchair and found a screw had come loose, but the part was nowhere in sight.
After a fruitless search, she temporarily got a crutch for her sister, saying, “I’ll go cook first. I’ll fix it later.”
Yan Rong’s daily life was most affected by chronic issues like anemia, dizziness, and joint pain caused by gene damage and leukemia, hence the need for a custom-made wheelchair to minimize pain. Repairing it was paramount; ordering a new one would take too long, preventing her from returning to work.
“Jie-jie, let me do it instead?”
Yan Li had just stepped into the kitchen when Yan Rong came over, leaning on her crutch, clearly worried. Yan Li, whose cooking skills weren’t as refined as her sister’s, was about to be supervised.
Yan Li, tying her apron, turned and saw her. Her brow furrowed.
Then, predictably, she was gently but firmly escorted back. “Stay put!”
Years of leading a team made Yan Li’s stern face quite formidable.
Yan Rong quietly retreated.
She sat dutifully on the sofa. Five minutes later, she glanced at the frosted door that Yan Li had tightly closed to contain the cooking fumes.
The missing screw was hidden in her sleeve, retrieved earlier from the wheelchair. She stood up, leaning on her crutch, and slowly hopped into the bathroom amid the crackling sound of frying oil. She then pulled out the screw and clank, flushed it down the toilet.
…
A Subtle Power Shift
The busy period continued until May. The last meeting ended, but Professor Jin Xia was still absent.
Cheng Ming finally felt something was wrong. When she inquired further, she heard the professor had retired.
“Why?” she asked, surprised. The professor had been re-hired only a year ago and seemed capable, even guiding their project.
“How should I know,” Song Manqing replied impatiently, head buried in reports.
Cheng Ming wisely backed out of the office.
With all materials submitted, their project had officially concluded. The subsequent steps—mass production, pilot programs, and high-level decision-making—were now in the hands of the higher-ups.
This was destined to be a long-term campaign, potentially resolving the third stage of the marine crisis. Given its huge significance, the plan was kept confidential in its initial phase.
Thus, their project team dissolved as quietly as it had formed. Participants received substantial internal rewards and commendations.
For Cheng Ming, the research allowance and honorary certificate were external things. She only cared whether the research results were enough to secure her a promotion opportunity.
She was relieved that it did.
It was highly unusual for an Assistant Researcher’s name to be ranked above several Associate Researchers. Cheng Ming was confused, especially since her name was even placed before Song Manqing’s.
Scrutinizing the final report, she was astonished to find that Song Manqing was the one who initially proposed prioritizing her contribution.
“The human heart is truly inscrutable…”
Closing the report, Cheng Ming couldn’t help but sigh with the same sentiment as her fish-fungus friend.
“No good deed goes unpunished…” Little Ming muttered. “I advise you to be vigilant around her.”
“What did you watch this time?” Cheng Ming, however, only grew suspicious. “Dare you not delete the browsing history?”
Little Ming: “…”
At the end of May, Cheng Ming submitted her application materials immediately, unwilling to wait.
She wanted to follow in her mother’s footsteps, to trace the path her mother had walked.
She tried to apply to the Animal Research Team, but her application was instantly rejected. The speed of the refusal made her feel like a heavily guarded blacklisted target, though it was an expected outcome since researchers don’t typically switch specializations halfway through.
…
A Farewell Dinner and a Question
On the evening of May 28th, with all materials submitted and the commendation ceremony over, she finally had time to spare. She used her bonus to host a dinner.
Only people from the North Building—her direct colleagues—attended, making the dinner a thank-you feast for her mentor and a farewell meal for the junior colleagues who were returning to school after their internship.
“Wuu-wuu-wuu, Senior Sister, I don’t want to leave!” Huang Chengcheng was particularly distraught. “I’ll take the entrance exam under your name!”
“Good,” Cheng Ming said with a smile. “I’ll wait for you.”
At the dinner, Jiang Dexin raised her chopsticks, joking, “Alas~ So much nurturing, only to be betrayed” by her students leaving.
“Teacher, don’t listen to Chengcheng,” Cheng Ming countered playfully. “Isn’t there a saying that an elegant woman is like fine wine, the older the more fragrant?”
Jiang Dexin looked up in surprise. “Well, Cheng, even you are teasing me now!”
“Wow, you’re so romantic,” the parasite in her mind interjected like a relentless commentator.
Cheng Ming had perfected the skill of ignoring it.
After a lively dinner, she drove the girls back to their dormitories.
The ride was a familiar transition from the city lights to the vast, starry wilderness, and then back into the light-swallowing silhouettes of the giant high-tech Defense Center buildings.
After parking the car, Cheng Ming offered to walk a portion of the way with Jiang Dexin.
“Why are you suddenly asking about the past?” Jiang Dexin knew something was up.
Sure enough, once they stepped out of the car, her first words were about Cheng Ran.
In the soft overhead light, the teacher and student walked one after the other, their shadows occasionally touching, like destinies crisscrossing and interweaving.
“Teacher Jiang…” Cheng Ming hesitated. “I heard that you were the one who introduced my mother here.”