HTCYH Ch 22

Chapter 22: Stabbing the Neck

Tu Si endured a night of torment and anxiety. The sweetness in his mouth lingered without fading away. No matter how delicious something was, if the taste stayed in the mouth for too long, it would become sickening. Tu Si felt his mouth was dry and sticky, making him desperately want to drink some water to wash away the flavor.

He didn’t know how much time had passed when the banging sounds from the next room finally stopped. Just as Tu Si was about to check the situation, the floor beneath his feet suddenly gave way. He extended his tendrils, attempting to latch onto something nearby to climb back up, but to his horror, everything around him was slowly disintegrating and vanishing, collapsing along with him into darkness.

In an instant, Tu Si wrapped himself up with his tendrils, weaving a shock-absorbing web within the cocoon. Moments later, he landed on the ground, and the tendril cocoon bounced like a ball before colliding with some object and finally stopping.

With a dagger in one hand and a whip in the other, Tu Si remained on guard before pulling his tendrils back. Then, he saw Wuming smiling cheerfully, holding one of his tendrils that hadn’t yet managed to retreat, toying with it. The tendril twisted and struggled frantically in Wuming’s grasp, slapping against his hand with sharp smacking sounds.

Seeing that Wuming was still alive, Tu Si let out a sigh of relief. He quickly snatched back the struggling tendril and carefully examined him.

Wuming’s face was slightly pale. Though he did not look withered, the wound on his neck was grotesque. A gash as long as a finger, with the flesh turned outward, was held together only by a few strands of golden silk thread, preventing blood from gushing out. Still, fresh blood bubbled up, absorbed by the golden threads, though much of it overflowed before it could be taken in, staining his collar red.

Tu Si swallowed hard and leaned closer. He pressed his fingertips to the wound, and more golden threads emerged from them, stitching the wound shut tightly until no more blood seeped out. Only then did he frown and ask, “What happened? Who hurt you like this?”

Wuming quietly watched Tu Si’s series of actions. When the wound was sealed, he touched the suture lines that felt like embroidery, his voice hoarse as he said, “It’s nothing. I accidentally stepped into the ‘God’s’ trap and was targeted by a little trick.”

From Wuming’s voice, Tu Si could tell the wound had also damaged his vocal cords. Without hesitation, he grabbed Wuming’s chin, forcing him to open his mouth, then stretched out a tendril as thick as a thumb. He snapped off its tip, and from the wound of the tendril oozed a bluish-green, translucent fluid. Before it could drip, Tu Si quickly stabbed the tendril into Wuming’s throat.

Wuming was caught off guard, his eyes widening, but before he could resist, the tendril had already withdrawn. Tu Si then said, “Say something. Let me hear.”

Wuming was utterly stunned by the abrupt act. His lips parted slightly, his gaze fixed on Tu Si in shock.

Tilting his head, Tu Si frowned, reaching to pry open his mouth again while saying, “What? You can’t talk now? That shouldn’t be possible. The injury to your vocal cords wasn’t that severe. That single drop of sap should’ve been enough to heal it.”

Wuming suddenly stepped back, clamped his mouth shut, and grabbed Tu Si’s hand, then quickly reacted, his expression flustered: “No! I’m fine! Thank you for the trouble!”

Hearing the slightly broken and hoarse voice, Tu Si frowned. He extended another tendril and said, “How about one more drop? It doesn’t sound fully healed. Captain, come on, open your mouth.”

Wuming seized the tendril firmly to prevent him from snapping it off again. Then he coughed lightly and said, “No need. I’m fine now, really. Just now I hadn’t adjusted yet—just some phlegm.”

Tu Si listened carefully. Indeed, Wuming’s voice had returned to normal. That slight huskiness didn’t diminish its pleasant tone. Only then did he nod, withdraw his tendrils, and ask, “Captain, were you trapped in a space cut open by the ‘God’? Last night I tried to find you, but though our positions overlapped, I couldn’t see you.”

Perhaps because of his injuries, Wuming seemed a bit mentally exhausted. After a long pause, he touched his throat and gently explained, “Oh, no. At night, everyone is assigned to a different time segment. All players should be in the same room, just within different time periods.”

Tu Si frowned. “So you were specifically targeted by the ‘God’? Do you have something it fears? Does it want you dead?”

Wuming shrugged, smiling with a mix of nonsense and evasion. “Maybe I’m just lucky enough to receive a special trial from the ‘God’?”

Tu Si could tell Wuming was deliberately hiding something, so he didn’t press further. Instead, he shifted the topic. “Different time segments… then the rules of this game must be team-based puzzle-solving?”

Wuming nodded, rose to his feet, and began leading the way. As they walked, his hand unconsciously reached for his throat again. “Let’s go. Ke Xian and the others should already be gathered in the hall. This should be like an escape room game—everyone’s clues lie in someone else’s hands, so we need to share information to clear it.”

Seeing Wuming’s wandering hand, Tu Si smacked it away. “Stop touching the wound. If you tear it open, I won’t stitch it again. You’ll just bleed out and die!”

Wuming’s hand trembled slightly, and his gaze toward Tu Si grew strange, filled with an indescribable subtlety. Tu Si noticed something off, halted, and blocked Wuming’s path. He placed his hand on Wuming’s forehead and said with some doubt, “No fever… but you seem weird.”

Wuming took the hand from his forehead, lowered his head, and laughed softly. Then his laughter grew louder, until he doubled over, laughing so wildly it nearly broke his usual composure. His laughter was unrestrained, almost mad, to the point that Tu Si was startled. Only after a long time did he stop. Raising a hand, he ruffled Tu Si’s hair hard, his voice low and still tinged with laughter as he said, “It’s just that this is the first time someone has taken care of me. I was a little surprised and at a loss. Sorry for worrying you.”

Tu Si gave him a sympathetic look and said, “Poor kid, don’t be sad! From now on, your ancestor here will take care of you! I’ll spoil you rotten.”

Wuming only narrowed his eyes with a smile—this time with a wildness and youthful vigor that lit up his face. It made Tu Si’s heart skip, and he couldn’t help but feel a pang of tenderness. Mimicking Wuming, he reached out and ruffled Wuming’s hair in return.

Wuming blinked his eyes, then reverted to his usual gentle demeanor. Stepping around Tu Si, he said as he walked, “Alright, then I’ll be in your care, ancestor. Come on, we’ve wasted enough time. The others must be getting anxious.”

That vivid version of Wuming vanished as quickly as it appeared. Watching him return to normal, Tu Si felt a sudden pang of loss. His thoughts wandered: Wuming’s laughter was beautiful. I hope he keeps getting injured, so I can drink his blood, care for him, watch him laugh… stab his neck. Wuming being stabbed is adorable too. I want to stab him again.

Footnotes

1. Tendrils: Tu Si isn’t fully human; he can extend tendril-like appendages, often used as weapons or tools, and they secrete a healing liquid.

2. Golden threads: These appear to be mystical or biological stitching threads Tu Si can produce, used to bind wounds.

3. “God” (神): Refers to the higher power or entity controlling the deadly game-like scenario. It’s not a benevolent deity but an antagonistic force.

4. Ancestor (祖宗): A Chinese expression often used jokingly or affectionately to assert dominance or endearment, like saying, “I’m your boss/guardian/overlord, so you better listen to me.” It doesn’t literally mean a blood ancestor here.

5. Escape room comparison: The story frames the deadly situation like a puzzle game where each participant has a piece of the solution, forcing cooperation.