Chapter 33: Doomed 09

Humans who were experts at avoidance eventually decided to order takeout together.

Yu Bai couldn’t cook. Yan Jing couldn’t cook either. And Yuan Yuxing’s current height and strength didn’t allow him to handle normal kitchen duties.

As for the remaining non-human… he had physically blown up the kitchen not long ago.

He still lacked the memories of the basic cooking knowledge Yu Bai had taught him during the time loop.

And truthfully, he didn’t need to eat at all.

However, once Yan Jing and Yuan Yuxing had finished selecting their food, and the phone displaying the delivery app was passed back to Yu Bai, he hesitated for a second before handing it to the man sitting beside him.

He couldn’t let the non-human feel left out.

Even if this guy probably had no clue what being excluded even meant.

“Do you want to order anything?” Yu Bai asked him. “Is there something you’d like to eat?”

The cuisine available to humans—especially those in this country—was incredibly diverse.

It was bound to be an eye-opener for a non-human who had never experienced the flavors of food before.

Xie Wufang’s gaze swept over the colorful array of dishes on the phone screen. Without a moment’s hesitation, he replied, “Something sweet.”

Something sweet?

Yu Bai immediately thought of one of his favorite dishes and suggested, “How about sweet and sour pork?”

Xie Wufang asked, “Is it sweet?”

“Kind of,” Yu Bai said. “It’s got a sweet-and-sour flavor.”

“Sweet-and-sour?”

“It’s sour and sweet at the same time…” Yu Bai paused, then scrunched up his face dramatically. “Sour is this kind of taste that makes your face do this—it’s a bit sharp and stimulating, but really unique.”

“And if it’s sweet-and-sour, it won’t be too sour. It’s delicious.”

Struggling to find the right words to describe sourness, Yu Bai instinctively resorted to an expressive grimace to convey the sensation to the non-human.

As he deliberately wrinkled his face, his thick lashes trembled lightly, and more sunlight filtered into his light brown eyes, making them sparkle with unusual brightness.

The man sitting so close stared at him in a momentary daze.

Before anyone else could notice, Yu Bai quickly dropped the childish expression and turned his face away as if nothing had happened.

“There are other sweet-and-sour options like pot roast pork, pineapple sweet-and-sour pork, or fish-flavored shredded pork… but this place doesn’t have them. They do have sweet and sour pork, though. Sound good?”

A moment later, he heard Xie Wufang say, “Sure.”

It sounded a little reluctant, though.

Curious, Yu Bai asked, “You don’t want sweet-and-sour?”

“No,” Xie Wufang said honestly. “I just prefer something purely sweet.”

Yu Bai glanced over in mild surprise. “Why?”

Why was a non-human with so little knowledge of food so fixated on sweetness?

“Because sweet tastes good,” Xie Wufang replied. He paused, then added, “I like sweet flavors.”

“It’s the taste you taught me about.”

In this world, the first food flavor the non-human had ever known was the half-watermelon Yu Bai had given him, along with the casually scribbled note on the watermelon gift note: “Very sweet.”

Once Yu Bai realized this, he abruptly looked away again.

His fair earlobes, bathed in the warm summer sunlight, flushed faintly pink.

He always seemed terrible at handling moments like this.

Moments when such direct, pure emotional connections flowed through him.

Whether it was the inexplicable sunflower that had appeared on the neighboring kitchen counter in the real world, or the Blossoming Flowers Angel he had wanted to give to Doctor Chen during the time loop.

In the end, he could only dodge.

So, he had flipped off the sunflower with a plastic-gloved middle finger and let Yan Jing voice those words of retention and attachment that should have stayed buried deep in his heart—for Doctor Chen.

“…But there aren’t any purely sweet dishes.” Yu Bai snatched the phone back in a hurry, speaking quickly as he placed the order for the man. “Sweet and sour pork it is!”

The small metal rectangle was suddenly yanked from his hand. After a brief flicker of surprise, the man repeated, “Sure.”

Not far away, the sunflower in the kitchen bloomed brilliantly, gazing quietly at another pot of flowers separated by two layers of window glass.

Yuan Yuxing, who was waiting for the food to arrive, took the opportunity to wander around this apartment he was visiting for the first time.

The little boy, hands clasped behind his back, paused at the kitchen doorway. In a tone of disbelief, he asked, “Why are you growing flowers in the kitchen? This is the kitchen, right?”

Yan Jing, who was waiting for food alongside him—and also wandering—replied, “Little Bai doesn’t cook. He uses the kitchen like a balcony.”

“That still doesn’t seem right. It’ll attract bugs! I saw some dishes in your cabinet. I’m worried bugs will come and munch on it.”

Yu Bai considered this and found it reasonable.

Maybe he should move the flower pot to the balcony after all. He had only placed it there casually before.

The balcony didn’t border Room 1204 next door, so they wouldn’t be visible to each other.

He was just about to speak up when another voice asked in a flat tone, “You can’t grow flowers in the kitchen?”

All three of them turned their gazes toward the only non-human in the room.

Xie Wufang’s expression was perfectly calm, as if it were simple curiosity.

Yan Jing, who was still a bit intimidated by him, jolted in surprise. Remembering that this guy also grew flowers in his kitchen like Little Bai, he quickly said, “Ha, haha, no, it’s fine. Grow it if you want.”

Yuan Yuxing eyed the big dumb guy suspiciously. “Why do you look so spineless all of a sudden?”

A kitchen should look like a kitchen. How could anyone use it to grow flowers?

He turned toward the mysterious being who supposedly wasn’t human, intending to explain the difference between a kitchen and a balcony.

He had seen that young guy named Yu Bai constantly introducing all sorts of life basics to this entity.

The short little boy looked up—it took some effort to meet the non-human’s gaze.

Those gray-blue eyes stared back silently, like a lake frozen in winter: cold, clear, and still.

An indescribable pressure bore down, as if he had wandered alone into an endless deep sea.

“Let me explain—”

Yuan Yuxing began, then suddenly shivered and changed tack. “Oh, what? Little Bai doesn’t cook, right? Then grow it, grow it by all means. Just put away the dishes properly.”

…He had no idea why the words had veered off course at the last second.

Was it because he was so short now?

The phone rang. Yu Bai answered, casting a baffled glance at the two guys who had suddenly gone meek. He prepared to head downstairs.

Xie Wufang asked, “Where are you going?”

Yu Bai said, “The delivery’s here. I’m going down to get it.”

“I’ll get it for you.”

And so, Yu Bai went downstairs with Xie Wufang.

He had originally planned to ask Yan Jing to come along—Yan Jing had been his go-to pack mule for years.

But no human strength could compare to a non-human’s.

Today’s delivery was really heavy.

“So much food!” Yan Jing took the plastic bag the two had carried up and swiftly unpacked it. “This one’s mine, Uncle Yuan this is yours… Whoa, Little Bai, you got double skin milk?”

The little boy crouched on the floor and lightly tapped the bag by the kitchen door. “This watermelon’s got a nice crisp sound. Should be really sweet.”

“Watermelon too?” Yan Jing looked over in astonishment. “I thought we were just having lunch.”

Yu Bai’s voice drifted out from the kitchen, where he was washing the cutting board and knives. “…It’s dessert.”

Sweet watermelon, sweet double skin milk, sweet mango mille-feuille…

The salty-toothed old man who didn’t like sweets, and the fitness coach who couldn’t indulge in too much sugar, stared at the pile of desserts on the table—which outnumbered the main courses—and exchanged bewildered looks.

Well, dessert it was, anyway.

That was what Little Bai had said.

In the warm, high-temperature summer afternoon, the room full of people—stuffed with food, drink, and far too much sugar—grew drowsy, their minds sluggish. They simply took a nap.

Even if the world was ending tomorrow, ordinary, fragile humans still had to eat when hungry and sleep when tired.

While the humans slumbered through the midday lull, the god who needed no food but had sampled many sweet flavors sat by the window. He quietly gazed at the vibrant sunflower in the kitchen, lost in thought.

Sunlight silently dappled the tips of his jet-black hair.

At four in the afternoon, Yu Bai—his energy restored—headed out to shop for clothes Yuan Yuxing could actually wear as a kid.

…Once again, accompanied by the non-human who had volunteered as his pack mule.

Yuan Yuxing still couldn’t accept his transformation into a child, where countless adults would gaze at him with fond eyes and coo over him. He didn’t want to go out for now.

Yan Jing said he wasn’t comfortable leaving Yuan Yuxing—who combined the traits of both a child and an old man—home alone. He would stay to keep him company and watch for any changes in the Doom Orb.

That left only Xie Wufang.

Yu Bai left the apartment with him. As they passed the tightly shut door of the neighboring unit, a faint smile flickered in his eyes.

Room 1204 was utterly quiet at the moment because Xie Wufang had no intention of returning.

Though that empty house hardly felt like a home anyway.

A little further down the hall lay Room 1203, which ought to have echoed with drumming sounds all day long.

Yu Bai was somewhat surprised to discover that even this room had fallen eerily quiet.

The door hung slightly ajar, propped open by a crushed beer can wedged into the frame.

He paused and peered inside.

The dimly lit space was shrouded in even thicker smoke than before. The ashtray overflowed with pungent cigarette butts, and the drum kit stood neglected in the center of the room. The man who normally sat there pounding away was now hunched over, sprawled amid a chaotic scatter of beer cans. His long hair draped motionless over the back of his head, and the pair of white bone drumsticks had vanished.

…This guy wasn’t dead, was he?

Given this neighbor’s abnormally dissolute lifestyle, though, it wouldn’t have been all that shocking.

Yu Bai was just about to step inside and check whether the man was still breathing—to decide between calling the police or an ambulance—when the man beside him spoke up.

“He’s asleep.” Xie Wufang seemed to sense his worry and murmured softly, “Everything’s back to normal now.”

“…Huh?”

Yu Bai blinked in confusion.

At that moment, the long-haired man on the floor stirred, shifting his head just enough to reveal a side profile. Pale and gaunt as it was, his skin still looked convincingly alive. A closer look showed his tousled long hair quivering faintly with each breath, and the stench of booze clung heavily to him.

Evidently, he had simply drunk himself into a stupor.

Yu Bai let out a relieved breath. As he always did for this nameless neighbor, he gently closed the door and continued on his way, a faint puzzlement lingering in his mind.

Only when he reached the lobby at the base of the building and spotted the little girl with twin braids did he grasp the meaning of Xie Wufang’s second remark.

It was that time of day when kindergarten and elementary school let out, lending a rare spark of life to the usually tranquil neighborhood. Elderly residents trickled in one by one, each leading a child by the hand.

Amid the sporadic bursts of childish chatter, one little girl in her elementary school uniform sat motionless on a bench beneath the dappled tree shadows, as though too afraid to head home.

She had a pair of large, clear eyes, black and bright, along with bruises that seemed to appear in fresh spots on her body all too often.

Yu Bai already knew her as He Xi. She loved reading novels and devouring hotpot. She would cheer at the starry fish gliding through the night sky and sneak off to sob in private.

But in this restored world, He Xi had crossed paths with him only once, in the bathroom. The little girl who had tumbled out of the wall by accident had been frantic with panic—likely terrified of running into him again.

The instant their eyes met across the empty air, she flinched away, dropping her gaze. She clutched at her braids to hide the fresh bruise blooming on her cheek, desperate to escape a stranger’s scrutiny. She even shuffled sideways along the bench, curling into a hidden nook out of Yu Bai’s sight.

Yu Bai froze for a beat, then turned to the man at his side. “Did you… make them…”

Xie Wufang gave a slight nod. “I only realized after you told me yesterday.”

He explained with earnest sincerity. “I didn’t mean to cause all that disturbance. Some of my power leaked out unintentionally. I hadn’t noticed, and it ended up having such a harmful effect on the humans living nearby.”

It took Yu Bai a moment to process, but then he recalled which “yesterday” Xie Wufang meant.

Just the previous evening, after feigning ignorance for a full week, he had finally reached his limit. He had pounded on his neighbor’s door and vented his frustration, demanding that the other resolve the bizarre happenings all around them.

The man next door who drummed endlessly with bones. The elementary school girl who crawled out of the pipes downstairs. He had laid it all out bluntly to Xie Wufang.

Yu Bai had weathered countless frigid nights in the time loop, piecing together endless hours. He had nearly forgotten that, in the real world, it amounted to nothing more than a single heated moment—grabbing the non-human neighbor by the collar before letting go. That had been yesterday.

Xie Wufang, ever diligent in his efforts to blend into human society, had naturally taken those accusations to heart.

After Yu Bai had slipped away last night with his suitcase and the small ball, the neighbor next door must have set about investigating and repairing the anomalies he had unwittingly caused.

Now, that enigmatic, otherworldly power had been fully reined in.

Deprived of his bone drumsticks, the long-haired man had ceased his drumming altogether. He lay passed out in silence amid the pile of beer cans.

The little schoolgirl, stripped of her ability to slip through walls, now wandered the lobby below, too frightened to return to a home that offered no refuge.

When Yu Bai remained quiet for a long stretch, the man beside him spoke again. “I’m sorry. It won’t happen like that again.”

Yet Yu Bai replied, “Actually, for them… it might not have been such a bad thing.”

The non-human, so unfamiliar with the ways of humankind, clearly failed to grasp his point.

Xie Wufang fell silent for a moment, his gaze fixed on those brown eyes, now shadowed with unwonted melancholy. “What are you thinking about?”

Yu Bai met that flawless expanse of blue. After a quiet pause, he smiled faintly and let out a sigh.

“I’m thinking,” he said softly, “how on earth to explain humans to you.”