“Thanks for your concern,” Chu Xuzhou said. “I’m not sick.”
Dong Man said, “Then why are you so hot?”
Chu Xuzhou replied, “I’m just running a high temperature. Sorry, I can’t control it very well.”
“…”
She tried to make sense of why a Living Dead would have such a high body temperature. Was it because his had been low for the past century, and now all the heat suppressed for hundreds of years was boiling over?
Dong Man truly found the heat terrifying. She could feel it even from where she stood nearby. Though she knew this powerful Zombie King wouldn’t come to harm from a little fever, she still asked, “Should I get you some ice?”
It had to be uncomfortable.
The Living Dead hesitated for a moment. He did look genuinely uncomfortable, but in the end, he said, “No need. This is fine.”
He answered her questions readily, but as he spoke with her, his eyes remained fixed on Bai Chen.
That Celestial Master carefully picked up one of the blood vessels. It behaved perfectly in his hands, but he didn’t drop his guard. The vessels had started out obedient too; they only went berserk after touching Bai Chen’s skin.
One blood vessel was wrapped around Bai Chen’s neck, trailing from his collarbone up to his jawline and then along his jaw to the back of his head. It yanked his head into a distorted tilt to the right. The Celestial Master stood behind him, leaning forward to pinpoint the position of his mouth. He carefully slipped the vessel between Bai Chen’s lips and swiftly tied a knot at the back of his head.
The knot wasn’t even finished when the vessel began writhing wildly once more. As the Celestial Master scrambled to grab it, the vessel suddenly calmed, merely curling and twisting behind Bai Chen’s head—
—Bai Chen had bitten down on it.
That single bite created one of the film’s most stunning shots.
The attic crawled with wriggling, sticky vessels. The young human male dangled in the center, his body contorted into grotesque, unnatural angles by the vessels. A white-and-red-streaked vessel clamped between his lips, blood oozing from the corners of his mouth as his teeth sank in.
Filthy, visceral gore intertwined with breathtaking, heart-stopping beauty.
Once the cameras stopped rolling, Dong Man rushed over with the warm, damp towel she’d just fetched. Bai Chen had to be miserable. Every inch of him—hands, feet, legs, arms, waist—was coated in viscous, unnatural blood. Even his neck had been locked in that awkward position for ages.
She’d taken only two steps when something occurred to her. She abruptly handed the hot towel to the Living Dead. “Xuzhou Big Shot, those vessels scare me a little. Could you… wipe Bai Chen down for me?”
Chu Xuzhou didn’t refuse. He took the towel and approached Bai Chen.
The moment Bai Chen was lowered to the ground, he vomited. Not from disgust, but because his mouth, throat, and even windpipe were choked full of blood.
The overflow from his lip corners wasn’t from biting through the vessels there; it was simply too much to contain. The Vascular Strangeness seemed to have gotten the wrong idea. When Bai Chen bit a touch too hard and nicked it, the thing went into a frenzy, pumping its blood straight into his mouth.
Bai Chen spat up a torrent of blood. Once Chu Xuzhou had wiped the blood from his lips and face, he said, “There’s still more in my mouth. Inside my body too. I don’t like it.”
The Celestial Master, busy sorting the vessels, noticed them all wilt suddenly, utterly deflated and listless.
“Then rinse with water.” The agent thrust a bottle at Bai Chen, then snatched the towel from Xuzhou Big Shot’s hand. He shot Dong Man a glare. How could she make the Xuzhou Big Shot handle something like this?
Bai Chen wasn’t pleased. “Rinsing only reaches the throat. The water would just carry the blood deeper.”
Chu Xuzhou wiped his hands and passed the towel to the agent. He cupped Bai Chen’s mouth with his hand. “Open up.”
It was still so hot.
Bai Chen fluttered his long lashes, gazing up at the man before him. He wasn’t the type to follow orders. He didn’t open when Chu Xuzhou first told him to—but with that palm pressed to his lips, he parted them against it.
The searing heat made his lips uncomfortable, so he closed them again, pursed briefly, then opened once more.
Even hotter.
Bai Chen shot the man a dissatisfied look. He wasn’t listening. He’d told him to control his temperature even while they dealt with the vessels, and he still hadn’t.
Yet the affection in that palm ran deep. Bai Chen opened his mouth wider, soaking up the love adhered to it. He tilted his head back to meet Chu Xuzhou’s eyes.
Sure enough, Chu Xuzhou stared right at him. He always did. At first, it brimmed with curiosity, his pitch-black eyes like an empty cosmos probing for sparks of life. Gradually, the curiosity deepened—until it blossomed into something more.
Now, Bai Chen could taste the love in that gaze.
When Chu Xuzhou still didn’t act, Bai Chen reached for his hand. But the arm wouldn’t budge; the palm pressed firmer.
Chu Xuzhou had one thing right: his power didn’t match Chu Xuzhou’s. He could win fights somehow, but raw strength in a tussle? No contest.
Just as Bai Chen moved to intervene, a wave of relief washed over him. It started in his mouth, spread to his throat, and sank into his stomach—the sticky sludge dissolved into light, clean comfort.
He glanced down. No blood stained Chu Xuzhou’s hand. He hadn’t drawn it out; he’d taken it into himself.
Moments later, Chu Xuzhou pulled away.
Bai Chen ran his tongue around his mouth. No more stickiness, though the faint metallic tang lingered. He opened wide and asked Chu Xuzhou, “Any left?”
“None,” Chu Xuzhou said, glancing over.
“You checked deep down too?”
“…Yes.”
That settled it. Neither the agent nor Dong Man batted an eye, as if Chu Xuzhou casually purging blood from Bai Chen’s mouth and gut was the most ordinary thing. They headed forward together to review the take.
“Does it look nice inside?” Bai Chen asked after a couple steps.
Love coursed through his veins, every cell born and nurtured in its embrace. Love was the world’s finest gift; naturally, his organs and viscera grew exquisite.
Few knew, but Chu Xuzhou had glimpsed a portion.
Chu Xuzhou halted abruptly.
“Bai Chen, come look!” The director waved him over, brimming with excitement.
The clip looped endlessly. Not just the director—every actor on set crowded around, all mesmerized.
Bai Chen watched, thoroughly pleased. He turned to the director. “Can I post a still from this on White Net? For some advance hype?”
The director nodded. “Go ahead. I’ll have them send you one later.”
The agent asked, “Today?”
“No—half an hour before I wake tomorrow.” That way, he’d stir to a flood of love.
The director drew Bai Chen to the seat beside him and patiently walked him through more scenes for a good while, until the lunch boxes arrived.
Plenty of funding meant lavish crew meals, delivered hot from a restaurant where reservations were impossible.
As they ate amid the set, Bai Chen overheard the film’s male lead say, “Gotta thank Bai Chen for injecting all that cash. This is how we score meals this good.”
Bai Chen’s box differed from the rest: a dainty two-tier affair packed with the world’s choicest ingredients. Even then, he ate sparingly, nibbling fastidiously. “No thanks needed. No need to be polite. Chu Xuzhou’s money never runs out.”
Chu Xuzhou had said so himself.
The male lead took a few bites, smiled with seeming puzzlement. “If Xuzhou Big Shot’s that loaded, why not fund you for male lead instead of slaving away as male second?”
Bai Chen looked up at him. He hadn’t met the man before. Earlier, while the director coached him, this fellow brought two boxes—but Bai Chen hadn’t taken one.
Soon his assistant delivered another. Bai Chen unpacked his special one as usual, managed two bites, and then heard the question.
The man was handsome, his smile open and bright. The query felt like pure curiosity.
Those nearby who overheard kept their heads down eating. The director alone boomed a laugh. One was the film’s anchor; the other, the funding whale. All the director could do was guffaw. “Dig in—waste not such fine grub while it’s hot, haha!”
Bai Chen set his box aside and sought out Chu Xuzhou, who ate with the agent. “Why no male lead investment for me?”
“…”
Chu Xuzhou said, “If you want the part—”
“How could you? Take a look at yourself—male lead?” The agent chided his charge. “The protagonist’s based on Celestial Master Qiao Qingshuang. Only Ning Yuanshui fits. Drop it.”
“Who?”
Bai Chen and Dong Man spoke in unison.
They’d discussed it while Bai Chen slept. He’d woken to news of a fan-pleasing role and nodded along, details overlooked.
Dong Man, hearing of another Apocalypse Boss—the horror novel’s hero—floundered too.
“Heavenly Master Qiao Qingshuang up on Frost Mountain.” Mentioning Frost Mountain and Qiao Qingshuang softened the agent’s voice to hushed reverence. He pointed skyward.
In every heart, Qiao Qingshuang loomed godlike. His sword pinned countless Evil Anomalies beneath Frost Mountain. He ensured earthly strangeness harmed none freely, bending willingly to human rules.
“Celestial Master Qiao commands unrivaled esteem, noble as moonlight, aura vast and righteous. Only Ning Yuanshui—with matching fame in films, mirroring poise, sky-high popularity—can embody him. Piles of cash wouldn’t sway it; the anomalies themselves would veto you.”
Bai Chen said, “He’s not like that.”
The agent blinked. “Who?”
“Celestial Master Qiao.”
“Then what’s he like?”
“A bit like me.”
“…”
“You think calling it like that lands you the role? As if you’ve met.” The agent sighed, then leaned in conspiratorially. “You might meet him for real, though.”
Dong Man’s ears pricked.
“The director badly wanted Celestial Master Qiao to advise. His visit would rocket this film—humans, strangeness, all rushing theaters.” The agent continued, “He declined, sent two Little Celestial Masters from Frost Mountain instead.”
“But now? That Vascular Strangeness went haywire; even the Little Celestial Masters couldn’t corral it. Director’s using that to summon him. Anomalies are his life—he’ll come.”
“So you might meet Celestial Master Qiao. See if he matches your ‘like me’—and if you measure up.”
