I Don’t Want to Have Little Mushrooms with You

Summary

”’Flirtatious and Passionate Young Miss (Bottom) × Cold, Damp, and Overly Affectionate Mushroom (Top)

Song Tai’s wife died in a car accident—a sudden and unexpected tragedy.

Yet, Song Tai wasn’t particularly grief-stricken.

She and her wife had met through a pressured blind date three years ago.

Her wife was beautiful and gentle, an excellent cook who often made their home warm and cozy. Their married life was as placid as still water, seemingly sweet and harmonious.

But Song Tai never liked her dull and boring wife, and she especially despised the woman’s overly strict possessiveness and controlling tendencies at times.

With her wife gone, Song Tai actually felt relieved, grateful to return to the freedom of single life.

Even more grateful that she no longer had to fulfill marital duties, no longer had to endure her wife’s excessive physical demands every day.

A week after her wife’s death, a pretty and lively girl pursued her, asking her out to a movie.

Song Tai happily agreed.

In the dimly lit theater, the girl’s eyes glistened as she shyly asked to kiss her.

Song Tai accepted the kiss and, with a playful attitude, entered a relationship with her.

But soon, she noticed something strange—the girl bore an uncanny resemblance to her deceased wife at certain moments—

Her skin cold and damp, with snow-white, moist fungal tendrils emerging from it every night. Beneath the different appearance was the same chilling, greedy gaze, a look that longed to devour her whole.

…

She fled in a hurry, breaking up with the girl, only to discover an even more horrifying truth: her dead wife was never human to begin with, and she was still clinging tightly to Song Tai, haunting her relentlessly.

The cold-faced, long-haired beauty who brushed past her on the street.

The timid new neighbor next door who often came to her for help.

Even the little dog downstairs that wagged its tail at her.

All of them were her wife!

Her wife, who would stop at nothing—changing her face, her form, even her species—just to return to her side.

Bearing a love as rampant and spreading as fungal mycelium, she sought to coil around Song Tai, tightening her grip, dragging them both into a suffocating embrace of love.

Song Tai: “…”

Get! Lost!

Yet, in the midst of it all, she failed to realize that she herself was gradually being altered, her mind growing hazy, unable to distinguish illusion from reality.

Even less did she realize that her wife had long since planted spores inside her body.

#I can be whatever you like, so please love me.

So please love me. So please love me. So please love me. So please love me. So please love me. So please love me. So please love me. So please love me. So please love me. So please love me. So please love me. So please love me.

The bottom thought she was being a flirt with many, but in reality, they were all the top.

A purely brainless little story. If you encounter any elements you dislike, please click away promptly. Thanks!

(Note: Non-human top! Some descriptions might be slightly horror-tinged! Beware!)

Upcoming: *The Dead Wife Returns*

The day before Xu Xunyan and her wife, Song Ning, were set to finalize their amicable divorce, Xu Xunyan received a call: Song Ning had been in a car accident and died despite emergency treatment.

Divorce suddenly turned into widowhood.

Xu Xunyan’s hand, still holding the phone, remained frozen in place.

No one knew about their broken relationship, let alone their impending divorce. In everyone’s eyes—Xu Xunyan was still Song Ning’s wife, the one to arrange the funeral, the primary heir to her estate.

And Xu Xunyan would never get the chance to explain.

With her death, Song Ning had branded Xu Xunyan indelibly as hers, a mark that could never be erased.

At first, Xu Xunyan hated her—hated her untimely death for trapping her, hated her past indifference and cruelty for tormenting her.

Later, she realized Song Ning had loved her all along, right up until her final breath.

…

With that love now forever unspoken, Xu Xunyan thought it would remain an eternal regret lodged in her heart.

Until a cold, ghostly figure appeared at her bedside—devoid of memory or reason, utterly clueless, yet still conveying love through icy kisses and embraces.

#Loving you is instinct carved into my very being#

－Love after death, a ghostly romance.”’