Chapter 52
Wen Xin half-stood and reached out to touch Xiao Qi the fox.
Looking up along his arm, Xiao Qi met Wen Xin’s eyes. They were clear and bright, like a soft, glowing vortex that drew one in without realizing it.
Xiao Qi stared at the young man’s face. He remembered the last time Wen Xin comforted him like this—it felt like months ago.
But a few months were nothing in the long, endless years of the mutated beings. So why did it feel like such a long time to him?
A few seconds later, Xiao Qi snapped out of his thoughts, swallowing hard to suppress his longing, and pushed Wen Xin’s arm away.
“Are you always this bold?”
Maybe it was the rush of emotions, but a faint red light flickered in Xiao Qi’s eyes, and his voice lowered unintentionally.
Wen Xin noticed this and felt an unfamiliar pressure. His first reaction wasn’t fear, but the memory of the event that forced Xiao Qi to leave.
Back then, Xiao Qi’s eyes had glowed with the same red light.
This may have been the mark that growth had left on Xiao Qi.
Wen Xin, understanding, looked at the fox with gentle eyes and said, “Forgive me, Your Holiness.”
“If it bothers you, I’ll hold back.”
The moment Wen Xin’s gaze dropped in disappointment, Xiao Qi panicked. “No, that’s not what I meant.”
He hesitated for a while, then finally gave in to his inner longing and whispered hoarsely, “If you really want to, you can… you can hug me again.”
Wen Xin was taken aback, then smiled and said, “Alright, I want to.”
Without hesitation, he walked around the stone table toward Xiao Qi.
Seeing him approach, Xiao Qi’s face lit up with anticipation. But suddenly, he remembered something and quickly stopped Wen Xin. “Wait a moment!”
Wen Xin paused. “?”
Xiao Qi closed his eyes, and a ripple-like shimmer covered his body. His appearance began to change. His features became more refined, his body shrank, and his limbs grew smaller proportionally.
In an instant, the middle-aged man in front of Wen Xin was replaced by a beautiful young boy.
Faced with Wen Xin’s surprised expression, Xiao Qi stubbornly explained, “This is what I looked like as a child. I wasn’t that big, so it’s easier for you to hold me.”
Wen Xin looked at the boy’s face, which bore no resemblance to the middle-aged man. “…”
Now that he thought about it, the face wasn’t unfamiliar. When Xiao Qi first used an illusion to pull Wen Xin into a dream, it had used this face. Aside from the slight age differences that changed a few facial details, it was almost identical.
(T/N: Why did the Author change the gender?? O.O)
So this was Xiao Qi’s humanoid form.
… Was he really that daring?
Wen Xin frowned slightly, his fingers twitching as he realized he’d been mistaken all along. Their Xiao Qi hadn’t come from a perfect world and wasn’t completely naive.
Xiao Qi had hidden and observed when he first arrived, watching Wen Xin and the other small creatures carefully. He would be cautious when Ah Lü was angry and lower himself around Wen Xin.
Only after being sure that he and the others wouldn’t hurt him did Xiao Qi start to act playfully and freely.
Would such a fox really be so clueless?
This time, as Wen Xin walked over, Xiao Qi didn’t stop him. He obediently let him stand behind him.
Xiao Qi felt a pang of nervousness. He remembered revealing his true form to Wen Xin once. Even though the dream’s influence would blur the memory, it wasn’t foolproof.
But deep down, Xiao Qi didn’t want Wen Xin to hold anyone else’s body.
Just as he was fretting, Wen Xin hugged him tightly from behind, his voice low. “Thank you.”
Thank you for your trust.
Thank you for being honest with me.
Xiao Qi didn’t understand why Wen Xin was suddenly thanking him, but he felt a wave of calm wash over him and relaxed into the embrace.
He had wanted this for so long.
To be held by Wen Xin and to talk freely with him.
Even the pain brought by memories seemed less sharp.
Knowing that Wen Xin’s trust stemmed from not doubting him, Xiao Qi felt a pang of guilt.
It wasn’t long before Xiao Qi started talking about those memories in a slow, halting voice.
The story, of course, involved death—Xiao Qi’s source of pain.
Death wasn’t a new concept to Xiao Qi. Long before he and Ah Jiu escaped the secret base, he had seen many dead mutated beings and understood that death meant separation and finality.
When the apocalypse broke out, death became even more common. Human corpses piled across the land, impossible to ignore.
Back then, Xiao Qi hadn’t evolved into a complete being. Hallucinations constantly haunted him, making the sight of blood inexplicably exciting.
He wanted to join the zombies, tear things apart with his sharp claws, and watch weak, pitiful humans struggle until they stopped moving.
Xiao Qi knew it was wrong but couldn’t help the urge.
Whenever he felt he was losing control, Xiao Qi would bite down on a piece of Wen Xin’s clothing or a feather from Ah Jiu.
With the scrap of Wen Xin’s clothing, he would imagine the young man standing before him, holding him with his thin but strong body and shielding him from the bloodshed.
With Ah Jiu’s feather, he would remember how the golden-haired boy nearly lost his life to his claws, which jolted him back to reality with deep regret.
Those two items helped Xiao Qi hold on for a long time.
As he promised Ah Jiu, he found a quiet, deserted place.
It was a war-torn city. The zombie numbers were so overwhelming that humans had resorted to heavy artillery to prevent the virus from spreading further.
The air was thick with the smell of smoke and burning flesh.
Xiao Qi was content with this place.
But soon, he faced a problem.
He wanted to seal himself away, so he wouldn’t go on a rampage and harm others.
It needed to be a room that couldn’t be opened from the inside.
Locking oneself in was easy, but not being able to unlock it wasn’t.
Xiao Qi tried everything.
He blocked the door with enough furniture to fill the room, wrapped iron wires tightly around the handle, and even shut himself in a cabinet.
But he always managed to break free with a swipe of his claw.
Xiao Qi looked at the mess around him. “…”
It was frustrating.
Days passed, and Xiao Qi still hadn’t figured out how to confine himself.
But he was changing rapidly.
His strength was growing, his claws and teeth becoming sharper. His skin, hidden under soft fur, was covered with an invisible, tough membrane that felt soft to the touch but was actually hard as steel.
One day, while curled up in his room, he was caught in a blast. Yet, when the smoke cleared, he remained unscathed.
The changes thrilled Xiao Qi. He realized that even if he faced Ah Lü, he wouldn’t necessarily be at a disadvantage.
But his rage grew too.
The genetic instability wasn’t fatal, but the pain was relentless.
It was like a bone-deep torment, constantly gnawing at his will.
He started acting unlike himself.
Sometimes, he’d snap and destroy things, only to look at the wreckage in confusion when he regained his senses.
He’d forget where he’d put the scraps of cloth and feathers until he’d frantically searched and found them buried in a small, dusty box.
On a day when gunfire and zombie roars never seemed to end, Xiao Qi stood over that box, staring at the tattered cloth and feather shaft.
Tears, which had never welled up even in battle, suddenly filled his eyes.
A wave of grief overtook him.
He sobbed, wanting nothing more than to run home and leave everything behind.
But he knew he couldn’t. In his current state, going back would only bring disaster to everyone.
He had to endure. He had to keep holding on.
…
Xiao Qi didn’t forget to make up a new identity for himself.
But by the time he finished speaking, he couldn’t help it anymore. He turned quickly, holding onto Wen Xin tighter, his voice trembling.
“Let me hold you for a while… just a while.”
Wen Xin looked down at the trembling boy in his arms.
Everything—the fox’s clinginess and teary eyes—finally made sense.
If he could, Wen Xin would go back in time to embrace that helpless little fox.
But reality wasn’t a dream; that wasn’t possible.
He gently patted the boy’s head. “It’s alright now. It’s all over.”
Their Xiao Qi had suffered greatly.
Xiao Qi calmed down after a while, lifting his face shyly from Wen Xin’s chest.
Luckily, this was a dream, so his tears wouldn’t really stain Wen Xin’s clothes.
He whispered hoarsely, “Actually, I didn’t know that man for long.”
Wen Xin pieced it together.
The man who died was connected to the blood mentioned earlier.
Given that Xiao Qi’s story had started after seeing the painting, it was likely that the man in the painting was the one who had died.
Did he really die?
Wen Xin’s brows furrowed, but he kept his expression neutral.
Xiao Qi continued, “The ones tasked with clearing the area had blocked off the exits. He couldn’t get out and ran out of food, so he stumbled into where I was sleeping.”
“I thought he was a thief and wanted him gone. He begged me, saying he’d die if he went back outside.”
“But I still wanted him to leave. I had a terrible temper back then, and he was more likely to die next to me than outside.”
“Then he told me he was waiting for someone. He couldn’t die yet.”
When he said that, a spark of hope flared in the man’s eyes, reaching Xiao Qi’s bloodlust-filled heart.
He, too, was holding on, waiting to go home.
The two shared a silent understanding.
But that didn’t make them close.
Xiao Qi still wanted to kill, and the man feared his power.
They only spoke a few times.
The man talked about his wife and daughter, who had narrowly escaped a zombie wave by visiting relatives before the outbreak.
“I hid in the church storage and survived. Zombies can tear through steel doors, but they had already left.”
“There are fewer people in the countryside. It must be safer. They’re alive. When the sweep is done, I’ll find them. I’ll find them.”
Xiao Qi, thinking like him, believed Wen Xin was alive, too. He didn’t notice how the man’s voice grew frantic, repeating “must” like a chant.
Their last conversation happened just before Xiao Qi completed his evolution.
Xiao Qi’s mind was unstable, sometimes turning him into a more vicious version of himself.
But Xiao Qi didn’t care. He was too close to going home and even felt kinder toward the man.
In that talk, Xiao Qi learned about the power of faith.
“Faith gives people endless willpower. It pushes them toward the light, helps them endure.”
Xiao Qi wasn’t really listening but caught the important part.
“Are there many believers in your faith?”, it asked.
Most of the time, Xiao Qi would eye someone’s throat. But now, his friendly tone surprised the man.
“Many. So many.”
Seeing Xiao Qi’s thoughtful look, the man thought his words had inspired it. He was about to invite it to join.
But Xiao Qi said, “Then I’m also going to start a religion. I’ll call it the Wen Xin Cult!”
The more people, the more likely he’d find Wen Xin.
Brilliant, the little fox thought.
The man nearly collapsed at the absurdity. Once he realized Xiao Qi wanted a religion just to find someone, he felt embarrassed.
“Starting a religion isn’t easy. You need to preach, write doctrines.”
So Xiao Qi learned that forming a cult wasn’t as simple as shouting a slogan. It required followers and rules.
But Xiao Qi had illusions. He could plant suggestions in people’s minds and lead a crowd.
Still, his heart was small. He only wanted to find Wen Xin, Ah Jiu, and be with everyone. Nothing else mattered.
Xiao Qi lost interest in forming a cult and focused on battling its nature.
As more people saw it wasn’t dangerous because it hadn’t eaten the man and zombies avoided the area, they started moving in.
Xiao Qi grew stronger. He watched these humans without interfering.
On the day he fully evolved, the loudspeaker announced that the city was now safe and opened routes.
Xiao Qi heard the celebration as they recognized and celebrated all the humans who had fought and managed to stay alive.
As he basked in the happiness of his full evolution, he noticed the man was gone.
He wasn’t within range and couldn’t be found among the dead.
An old man named Shi told him the man left when the rescue team arrived and had hurried over to inquire for some news.
“He didn’t even listen to the speech, he pushed through the crowd, shouting. Perhaps he didn’t hear the news he wanted from the rescue party.”
“When he came back, he was calmer… and went to the roof.”
Why the roof?
Before the apocalypse, Xiao Qi loved rooftops with Wen Xin. He’d take Ah Jiu there to see the city as a painting.
But now, the world was broken.
Xiao Qi reached the rooftop.
There, in the fading light, sat the man, broken.
“Come down,” Xiao Qi called, seeing him dangerously close to the edge.
The man turned, smiling. “You’re here.”
His words turned to nonsense for Xiao Qi.
“When the news said there was rabies, I knew.”
“I called. No answer. No one picked up. My friends said they were gone, but I didn’t believe it.”
“Our danger was worse. If we survived, why not them?”
Tears fell as he spoke, face worn and hopeless.
“Sorry, I lied. I have no one left.”
“But I want… I want to see them… so much…”
He stepped forward.
Xiao Qi’s heart clenched. “I can show you them!”
The man froze, hope flaring for a moment.
But Wen Xin knew. The dead don’t return.
Xiao Qi must’ve meant an illusion.
Xiao Qi couldn’t create scenes he hadn’t seen, only draw from memories.
The man would know it wasn’t real.
When Xiao Qi said, “He saw them, then jumped,” Wen Xin wasn’t surprised.
It hurt even him to hear, let alone the fox who lived it.
“It wasn’t your fault.”
Wen Xin hugged Xiao Qi tighter. “He lost hope. Nothing could’ve saved him.”
Xiao Qi’s voice cracked. “He could’ve survived.”
After the man jumped, Xiao Qi followed.
At S-class, the height was harmless.
But Xiao Qi couldn’t control his power. He broke the fall but didn’t stop the force.
The painting The Pope was the cult’s origin.
The man’s blood stained the ground as he sat against the wall, sunset behind him.
“You are powerful. Enough to end despair. Start a faith. But don’t use… that name. It’ll bring danger…”
“Wen Xin… use Wei Xin. It’s enough…”
Xiao Qi closed his eyes.
“He said I could end people’s despair and I tried it, it wasn’t hard.”
“It wasn’t hard,” he repeated. “But I didn’t think of it before he jumped.”
“Why didn’t I?”
Wen Xin’s heart ached as Xiao Qi doubted himself.
Before he could comfort him, Xiao Qi spoke again.
“After that, more people joined. Fewer deaths. But I remember him and feel afraid.”
“What are you afraid of?” Wen Xin asked gently.
Xiao Qi seemed lost, then looked at Wen Xin, eyes clearing. He buried his head in Wen Xin’s chest, whispering, “Not anymore.”
Humans were fragile.
For a long time, Xiao Qi feared hearing bad news about Wen Xin.
Would he lose his will?
Just imagining it felt like a knife to the chest, suffocating him.
He was too scared to ask about Wen Xin.
He suppressed his longing, thinking if he didn’t ask about Wen Xin, He would be alive.
Until Wen Xin really appeared, alive, before him.
Xiao Qi gazed at his face, drinking in every detail.
Why did he create the Wei Xin Cult?
Because he hoped saving others would mean someone saved Wen Xin in his darkest hour.
But running the cult wore him out.
Balancing his desire and strengthening his followers was exhausting.
He wanted to sleep forever.
Wen Xin, I missed you…
Xiao Qi’s eyes glistened.
I missed you so much.
maybe xiao qi can change genders?? this is so confusing.. anyways, thanks for the translation! <33
Yeah I thought so too! Like those fox spirits…
Either he could change genders or he has always been a boy, the female could be something he saw in other people’s desires?
I also thought so… But it was still confusing for at least a second there. And I’m also bewildered why Wen Xin won’t say that he knows Xiao Qi’s identity. Like on what he did with Ah Lu.