HTCYH Ch 32

Chapter 32: Kindred Spirits

Tu Si kept feeling that something was off, but even by nightfall, he still couldn’t pinpoint the source of that strangeness. It was like having the urge to sneeze but never quite managing to, leaving him utterly frustrated.

As the sun set and darkness fell, Wuming suddenly pulled Tu Si tightly into his embrace. The lightbulb in the room flickered, and after a brief blackout, all the other people inside vanished again. Yet this time, Tu Si was held firmly in Wuming’s arms—they were not separated.

When the lights stopped flickering, faint cries of children began echoing from all around the house. The sound was not very loud, yet it was constant and unnerving, surrounding them from every angle like a 360-degree assault. Tu Si immediately felt his head ringing, unable to focus, and raised his hands to cover his ears. But that only made it worse—just like wearing earphones, the tighter he pressed his hands to his ears, the louder the sound became, until his head throbbed in stabbing pain, forcing a small groan from his lips.

Hurriedly, he let his hands fall and rubbed the back of his skull, then glanced up, only to find Wuming also grimacing from the pain of the cries, scanning their surroundings with a furrowed brow.

Tu Si suggested, “Would it be better if we left the house?”

Wuming shook his head. “The sound compresses from outside to inside. With the walls blocking some of it, we only feel pain. But if you step outside, your head will likely explode on the spot.”

Of course, Tu Si was never the type to obediently listen. His eyes flickered cleverly, and then—forming his tendrils into a ball—he rolled himself right out of the room.

With a loud bang, the tendril-ball burst from within, scattering in all directions.

Tu Si chuckled mischievously. “Heh, Captain, you really are impressive.”

Wuming scowled and scolded, “Curiosity killed the cat. Don’t pull stunts like that again!”

Tu Si was stunned, then seeing Wuming’s irritation, he simply brushed it off with no concern and returned to rummaging through the room for clues. His tendril prosthetics had grown increasingly refined with training—he no longer limped while walking. Only bending and rising remained a little stiff.

Wuming watched Tu Si’s back, his frown deepening even further. He took a long breath, exhaled frustration, and then silently followed behind, alert to any changes in their surroundings.

Amid his searching, Tu Si found a kraft-paper file folder buried in the lowest drawer of a wardrobe. Inside were all sorts of academic records and certificates from Liang Tiancai’s school years.

This folder had not been present the night before; it had appeared only today.

Opening it, Tu Si saw honors for exemplary student achievements, perfect test papers, as well as scholarship envelopes. At the very bottom lay a family photo of four.

In the picture, the child bride was smiling with carefree innocence. A ten-year-old Liang Tiancai held her hand. His mother leaned her head against his father’s shoulder, the two radiating affection. The overall photo radiated warmth and harmony.

Tu Si examined the student ID photo on the certificates and then stared at the family portrait. His brow furrowed even tighter. Who exactly was lying? Was Liang Tiancai truly the villain painted in everyone else’s words? Was the child bride’s tragedy real? What kind of person was Liang Tiancai’s mother, truly?

Assaulted by both his pounding headache and the incessant crying, every time Tu Si tried to think more deeply, sharp bursts of pain pierced his brain. His tendrils thrashed irritably against the ground.

Wuming plucked the photo from Tu Si’s grasp, earning a vicious glare in return. Controlling his own irritation, Wuming said, “Don’t bare your fangs. The crying manipulates our emotions—it’s trying to make us fight. Keep calm, don’t take the bait.”

Tu Si stuffed the remaining documents and folder into Wuming’s chest, bumped his shoulder with a defiant snort, then stormed out of the bedroom to investigate elsewhere.

Soon, Tu Si was slamming things around, rummaging noisily through the house. The clattering combined with the already maddening cries to heighten irritation, until Wuming finally drove his fist into the wardrobe, smashing a hole. His patience snapped. “Can you stop already? You’re driving me insane!”

Tu Si clenched his fists, tendrils weaving into a whip. Storming back into the bedroom, he lashed the whip at Wuming’s feet, shouting shrilly, “Say that again!”

Wuming shed all pretenses of gentleness in an instant. Snatching away the whip, his white flames flared, incinerating it to ashes. He grabbed Tu Si’s jaw, gritting out between his teeth, “Shut the hell up! Don’t make me slap you!”

Tu Si froze, then tears welled in his eyes. Tilting his head up in defiance, he demanded, “What did you just say? Say it again!”

Wuming smirked crookedly. “Told you to shut up. What, you really think I won’t kill you?”

Letting out a shrill scream, Tu Si clawed for Wuming’s face but couldn’t reach it. Instead, he seized Wuming’s hand and bit down hard into the web between his thumb and forefinger.

Wuming hissed in pain and flung Tu Si across the room. Yet Tu Si quickly regrouped, forming another whip and charging back, the two crashing into a fierce brawl.

They fought from the bedroom into the living room. But soon, Tu Si was overpowered—Wuming hurled him into a pile of earthen jars. The white flames wrapped around Tu Si sprayed onto a covering of red plastic sheets, igniting instantly. Fire erupted, engulfing the entire cluster of jars. Tu Si writhed violently, as though tormented by the scorching flames. Within moments, the bottles and jars burned into nothingness.

At the same time, the shrieking children’s cries had already twisted into laughter and cheers. As Tu Si began losing, mocking chants and even encouragement rang out. But then, when the flames spread—so fast, so violently—the laughter instantly warped into screams of agony, before fading into sudden silence.

Finally, the horrible clamor was gone.

Tu Si stood, dusting off robes that had no actual dust, flicked his messy blond hair, and looked at Wuming. “You owe me a whip.”

Wuming’s expression softened, his warmth returning. He lifted a hand, showing the still-bleeding bite mark on his palm, smiling faintly. “So this is you taking private revenge?”

Tu Si snorted. “Call it even. We both took damage.”

Wuming shook his head. With a wave through the air, he pulled Tu Si’s consumed whip out of the void and handed it back. “I lost more. And—don’t break my boy again.”

Tu Si accepted the whip, preparing to snap the worm-head to heal Wuming’s wound, but before he could act, Wuming stopped him.

“Damn it, Captain!” Tu Si cursed. “You black-hearted bastard! Trying to reap a painless benefit as a dad, huh? No way! This little thing was born from me—it’s my son! If you don’t want me snapping him, then don’t complain about him!” With that, Tu Si grabbed Wuming’s hand and ran his tongue lightly across the wound. The injury sealed instantly. Tu Si swallowed the drop of blood, clicking his tongue with a teasing, provocative look.

Wuming examined his now-perfectly healed hand, no trace of injury remaining, his smile deepening. “Mm, yes—you gave birth to him, you’re his mother. I’m the father. I won’t take the credit from you.”

Hearing this, Tu Si immediately punched Wuming in the stomach. “Hey! Captain! That’s too much! Trying to take advantage of me? You call me the mother while you get to be the father? Never even breastfed the kid, yet already fighting me for the title? If you’ve got the guts—why don’t you be the mother, and take care of this little traitor yourself? You can nurse him too!”

Wuming bent slightly at the punch, rubbing his stomach but laughing with narrowed eyes. “Alright then. From now on, I’m the mother, and you’re the father. Little traitor, come, Mommy will give you a nice name.”

He actually began tapping the worm-head’s tendril, brainstorming names for it.

Tu Si was speechless—it was the first time he realized Wuming could be so shameless. His mouth hung open watching that “mother-and-son” interaction. A suffocating mix of frustration boiled in his chest until he exploded, stomping his foot and yelling, “Number 7! He’s Number 7! Don’t call him anything else, or I won’t be able to tell them apart!”

Wuming asked curiously, “Number Seven? Then what about One through Six?”

Tu Si replied, “They’re gone. Those were just clones, escape tools. They might’ve had tiny quirks, but don’t you dare treat them like pets. They’re like a lizard’s severed tail—once it’s gone, another just grows out. I don’t get why you’re so obsessed with them.”

Wuming nodded gravely. “Got it. Then Little Seven is Mommy’s treasure now. And I’ll make sure your Daddy never gets the chance to have an Eighth.”

Tu Si stared at him in horror, shuddering as goosebumps erupted all over. “Captain! Be normal, or I’ll perform an exorcism on you! Want me to pack up the corpses of One through Six for you? I can send them over so you can build them graves, mark them as ‘died young, Numbers One through Six’!”

To his surprise, Wuming met his eyes and nodded in total seriousness. “Yes. Give them to me. I’ll build graves for them.”

Tu Si stepped back in disbelief, voice rising, “Captain! Did the attack make you lose your mind? What the hell is wrong with you! Who in their right mind collects lizard tails? Of course I wouldn’t keep them!”

Yet astonishingly, Tu Si caught a flicker of disappointment in Wuming’s face. He nearly collapsed mentally, screaming inside: Ahhh! I thought Wuming was normal, but now I’ve uncovered that this Captain has some bizarre collection fetish!

But then Tu Si reconsidered—for wasn’t he himself collecting human bones? Well then. Figures… The man I chose really is extraordinary. Not only delicious, but even his hobbies match mine so well.