When Fang Xingzhou woke up, he was surrounded by many pairs of eyes, all staring at him intently with nervous anticipation.
As soon as he opened his eyes, everyone breathed a sigh of relief. Yan Xin, who was closest, let out a long exhale and removed the IV from Fang Xingzhou’s hand, saying, “Thank goodness, Dr. Fang, you’re finally awake! Are you feeling any discomfort?”
Fang Xingzhou’s gaze swept over the somewhat familiar faces, realizing he was in an entirely unfamiliar room that resembled a hospital ICU.
His memories were a jumbled mess. He tried to sit up, but his limbs felt weak and his head was spinning. Yan Xin reached out to support him, asking, “Do you want to sit up? Would you like some water?”
Fang Xingzhou made an affirmative sound, his throat dry and hoarse. With Yan Xin’s help, he managed to prop himself up against the headboard.
Someone handed him a glass of water with a faint sour taste, likely infused with vitamins. Fang Xingzhou drank most of it, trying to suppress the nausea rising in his throat as he attempted to untangle the chaotic threads of his memory.
Yan Xin leaned down, holding up two fingers in front of him. “How many fingers am I holding up?”
Fang Xingzhou replied confidently, “Two. Did I have a concussion?”
Yan Xin: “It’s a bit more serious than a concussion. Xingzhou, what do you remember?”
Fang Xingzhou thought for a moment.
He only remembered receiving an emergency consultation call late at night, rushing to the hospital, encountering a patient in a bizarre condition, and then…
His head began to throb with intense pain.
Seeing him frown, Yan Xin reached out to massage his temples, saying, “Let me help you piece it together. You were bitten by a deranged patient, causing your artery to rupture. You had your graduate student call Mr. Lu, then underwent a special surgery. Although your condition stabilized, you were unfortunately parasitized.”
With Yan Xin’s patient guidance, Fang Xingzhou began to regain some clarity, and his memories started to rapidly reconstruct.
The first thing his tangled mind recalled was the long, surreal dream of transforming into the “jellyfish.”
Fang Xingzhou remained silent for a long time, his fists clenching under the blanket. He glanced at the time and realized he had been unconscious for two full days.
He asked, “Was the parasite removed?”
Yan Xin smiled at him. “Yes, the surgery was very successful.”
“Where’s Lu Jianchuan?”
Yan Xin replied without batting an eye, “He’s still in the process of digesting the parasite and is resting in another room.”
This statement was clearly full of holes.
Fang Xingzhou’s heart began to beat uneasily. He stared unblinkingly at Yan Xin, who averted his gaze guiltily and quickly changed the subject. “Xingzhou, you should rest some more. I’ll go adjust your medication.”
As he turned to leave, Fang Xingzhou grabbed his arm.
“Where is Lu Jianchuan?” he asked.
Yan Xin: “Uh, I’m not entirely sure.”
The credibility of this statement was far too low, and Yan Xin himself didn’t sound confident. Fang Xingzhou naturally didn’t believe him. After a moment of silence, Fang Xingzhou didn’t press further, simply saying, “Dr. Yan, can I take a walk around the institute later?”
Definitely not.
But… Yan Xin wasn’t aware of Lu Jianchuan’s past from twenty years ago, nor did he understand what the jellyfish was trying to hide. In his view, as the other father of the child, Fang Xingzhou would eventually have to face the truth.
So, he didn’t mind Fang Xingzhou wandering around the safe areas of the institute, perhaps even “accidentally” stumbling into a certain locked room and “accidentally” seeing Mr. Jellyfish, who was carrying their baby.
This way, he wouldn’t have to exhaust himself covering for Lu Jianchuan, especially since the monster’s family aura was far too chilling!
Yan Xin smiled warmly and amiably, taking Fang Xingzhou’s hand. “Of course, you’re our honored guest. You’re welcome to explore the safe areas, but only after your condition stabilizes a bit more.”
Fang Xingzhou nodded and released his hand. “Thank you.”
Yan Xin fled the room as if escaping, leaving a few unfamiliar medical staff to tend to Fang Xingzhou. Fang Xingzhou sat against the headboard for a while, then opened his phone and saw that Lu Jianchuan’s location overlapped with his own.
Was he upstairs or downstairs?
After a moment of contemplation, Fang Xingzhou decided to call Lu Jianchuan directly.
He expected the call to go unanswered, but to his surprise, Lu Jianchuan picked up almost immediately. His voice sounded strange, as if a monster were trying to mimic human speech for the first time.
“Zhouzhou, you’re awake! How are you feeling? Does your head still hurt? Can you eat anything?”
Fang Xingzhou: “Where are you?”
Lu Jianchuan forced a calm laugh. “I’m helping Officer Li with something. I’ll be back to see you soon.”
“…” Fang Xingzhou sighed. “Didn’t you and Yan Xin coordinate your stories?”
Lu Jianchuan paused, his voice clearly panicking. “Huh? Wh-what story?”
Fang Xingzhou fell silent for a moment, then suddenly said something seemingly out of nowhere. “I never understood what you were afraid of until I was parasitized a few days ago. I have an inkling now, but I’m still not entirely sure.”
Lu Jianchuan: “…”
“Darling,” he forced a smile, “you just woke up. Maybe your memory is a bit scrambled?”
Fang Xingzhou didn’t respond. After a long pause, he said gently, “Perhaps. I should rest some more. I need to sleep again.”
Lu Jianchuan exhaled in relief. “Okay! I’ll be back as soon as possible. Don’t dwell on those confusing thoughts. They’re too taxing.”
Fang Xingzhou hung up the phone.
He drank half a bowl of porridge, feeling his physical condition gradually improve, and found an excuse to leave the room.
He was likely in the research area of the institute. The adjacent rooms were all laboratories, and occasionally, staff in strange protective suits, wearing masks and goggles, passed by him. They merely glanced at him but didn’t stop him from wandering around.
Fang Xingzhou walked to the end of the hallway and openly pressed the elevator button, then looked up at the camera in the corner.
…Directly meeting Li Xuan’s gaze on the surveillance screen.
Li Xuan was momentarily stunned, watching Fang Xingzhou enter the elevator but not immediately press a floor button. Instead, Fang Xingzhou looked at the camera again, as if seeking permission.
Li Xuan: “…”
Fang Xingzhou was an external collaborator, and according to regulations, he certainly shouldn’t be wandering around the institute. But… Lu Jianchuan was an internal member.
As the family member of an important internal member, well, visiting was allowed.
Li Xuan decisively pressed the button for the lowest floor to prevent Fang Xingzhou from searching floor by floor and accidentally stumbling into a dangerous area.
Fang Xingzhou smiled at the camera, opened his phone, and saw the distance between him and Lu Jianchuan shrinking as the elevator descended. By the time the elevator dinged to a stop, they were only a dozen meters apart.
The elevator doors slid open smoothly.
Outside was a bare hallway, its walls lined with soft infrared cameras. Fang Xingzhou caught a whiff of a familiar, faintly sweet fragrance, so strong it was almost cloying.
His breathing tightened in the fragrant air. His gaze landed on a massive metal door, confirming that the scent was seeping through its cracks.
Fang Xingzhou stepped forward, walking quietly toward the door. The sound of his light footsteps echoed in the hallway, and for some reason, his heartbeat quickened.
The aftereffects of the parasitization hadn’t completely faded. His mind occasionally slipped into chaos. In a daze, he seemed to re-enter that surreal, disjointed dream of becoming the “jellyfish,” being gently lifted from the puddle.
Once again, he clearly heard the sound of fate’s gears turning, unsure if it was from memory or reality—a distant, mysterious sound that intertwined the parallel paths of humans and gods, binding them tightly together.
Fang Xingzhou stopped at the door.
The surroundings were eerily quiet. He took a deep breath, his temples throbbing faintly. His human instincts screamed warnings, reminding him that something extremely dangerous lay beyond the door. Even a single glance could cost him an unbearable price.
But the part of him that wasn’t entirely human yearned to open the door, to confirm whether his pregnant lover and unborn child were safe, whether they had been injured in the battle.
Fang Xingzhou placed his hand on the control panel.
The door required both fingerprint and retinal scans to open. As soon as it recognized Fang Xingzhou’s fingerprint, the indicator light turned red, emitting a series of beeping alarms.
Inside the room, the despondent monster was startled by the alarm. It immediately coiled up, dozens of eyes turning toward the door. Its brain quivered slightly, then accurately detected a familiar presence in the air.
All eighteen tentacles instantly twisted into knots, its vocal cords vibrating wildly, emitting a series of silent screams.
Why was Zhouzhou here?!
The monster darted to the door, pressing its entire brain against the thick radiation-proof door, briefly meeting Fang Xingzhou’s gaze through the barrier.
He’s finished. The brain began to panic, scanning the empty room but finding no place to hide.
What should it do?
If Zhouzhou opened this door… should it modify his memory again? Or briefly control his brain, making him see an illusion?
No! It quickly dismissed both ideas. Zhouzhou had been showing signs of immunity recently and had just been parasitized. Forcing control over his mind again could cause irreparable damage.
Its vocal cords were stretched to the limit. The brain thumped against the wall a couple of times, its tentacles writhing on the floor, darting from one end of the room to the other, before finally stopping at the window connecting to the storage room.
It shoved its entire brain through, trying to escape to the empty storage room next door. But halfway through, its massive gestational sac got stuck between the window and the storage room. The little one inside, just forming its egg membrane, let out an indignant scream.
Lu Jianchuan: “…”
It still didn’t want to give up. Stuck in this awkward position for over ten seconds, it tried to squeeze the gestational sac through, until the egg inside bounced up, angrily bumping against the brain above.
Lu Jianchuan felt as if its brain matter was about to spill out.
Dozens of eyes widened to their limits. It froze for a moment, then reluctantly gave up, sliding back into the room and wriggling to the door, hoping the person outside would give up and leave.
Unfortunately, as it approached the door, it clearly heard Fang Xingzhou’s voice, as if he were on the phone with someone.
“Open the door,” Fang Xingzhou said. “Whether it’s a hospital or a prison, I have the right to visit my partner at any time.”
Lu Jianchuan’s eighteen tentacles trembled simultaneously. It quickly grabbed its phone, trying to call Li Xuan and tell him not to open the door.
“The number you have dialed is currently unavailable…”
Lu Jianchuan’s entire body tensed. It could only stare at the metal door, desperately chanting in its mind: Don’t open, don’t open, don’t open—
Then… it watched in horror as the indicator light turned green with a beep, and the door slowly slid open, the final barrier between it and Fang Xingzhou disappearing.
Along with it vanished the secret it had painstakingly hidden for over twenty years.
Lu Jianchuan saw its reflection in the floor—a grotesque, terrifying monster, like something out of a low-budget horror movie, often cast as the final villain, abandoned, despised, even killed, its life used to highlight the hero’s greatness.
As the door slid open, a new shadow appeared beside its reflection, elongated by the lighting, partially overlapping with its own.
Lu Jianchuan felt itself losing control in its fear.
Even after twenty years of mental preparation, even knowing that one day, when the child was born, its beloved would learn the truth…
Facing this moment, it still couldn’t shake the terror of seeing its ugly reflection in Fang Xingzhou’s eyes.
It instinctively twisted space-time, summoning its depleted strength, trying to create an illusion to hide itself—
“Lu Jianchuan!”
Fang Xingzhou’s voice was sharp and stern, like a thunderclap, freezing it in place.
It stiffened, instinctively using its tentacles to shield its brain and gestational sac. Dozens of eyes slowly shifted, peering through the gaps between tentacles, filled with endless dread as they watched its beloved step into the room.
Fang Xingzhou was trembling, blood streaming from the corners of his eyes, yet he stared unflinchingly at the monster before him, staggering closer to Lu Jianchuan.
“Let me see you,” he said, his breathing ragged, his voice unsteady. “Lu Jianchuan, let me see you again.”
“My pupils seem to have shattered. I can’t see anything. You can fix them, right? My eyes hurt so much.”
“Don’t be afraid, Deer. Stay where you are. Don’t move.”
Fang Xingzhou followed the faint, sweet fragrance, step by step, toward the monster. His body shook more and more violently, the primal fear ingrained in his genes screaming at him to flee, but he pressed on, unwavering, groping forward in the darkness until he heard a rapid, panicked breath above him.
Then, cold, slimy tentacles brushed against his cheeks, covering his bleeding eyes.
The mouthparts secreted a sticky fluid, smearing over his injured eyes. The fluid seemed to contain tiny, living creatures that burrowed into the wounds, repairing and stitching them while transforming his eyes into something between human and beast.
Half a minute later, the pain vanished, and the tentacles withdrew from his face. Fang Xingzhou wiped away the remaining fluid and eagerly opened his eyes, looking up at the monster that had tightly wrapped its true form in its tentacles.
A vocal cord hung in the air, twitching unnaturally, as if crying.
Through the gaps in the densely packed tentacles, countless crimson eyes stared at him, filled with translucent liquid.
Fang Xingzhou still couldn’t stop trembling, but he took two more steps forward, reaching out to grasp one of the tentacles and gently pulling it down.
“You’re adorable,” he said hoarsely. “Don’t hide. Let me see you again.”