DCHHLT Chapter 22

Although they were just simple words, Liang Xingyuan felt as if he had returned to three years ago, when he first came to this world.

He seemed unable to understand a single word Chu Junshan said.

Expectation…

What exactly did he know?!

This simple answer nearly drove Liang Xingyuan mad. Blood rushed into his oxygen-deprived brain in an instant, and all eight of his brains could not function, simply going on strike.

However, even though his brains had gone on strike, the tentacles that extended outward faithfully carried out their duties, dutifully transmitting sensations into his body.

He felt the warmth of Chu Junshan’s palm, the softness of his lips, and how, under his skilled caresses, his own tentacles grew increasingly stiff and swollen.

Suddenly, a vague thought surfaced in his mind.

Chu Junshan… did he know he was a monster?

Did he know those deformed tentacles existed?

This thought was like a key, instantly connecting the magazines he had seen before in Chu Junshan’s apartment, the rows of display cabinets with nothing on them, and those ambiguous, flirtatious questions and answers.

Why, after rejecting a hundred blind dates, did Chu Junshan agree to be with him in that instant?

So, the reason was not the so-called “suitability”, but because he possessed the tentacles that Chu Junshan loved.

So, these things he had always considered filthy and disgusting were actually so beloved by Chu Junshan.

Liang Xingyuan took a deep breath, trying to force his rationality to return.

However, he was startled to find he couldn’t.

The familiar scent of Chu Junshan’s perfume, the smell of burnt meat lingering in the air, and the foul odor of decay from the things he had killed all intertwined, becoming a catalyst that destroyed every shred of his sanity.

Chu Junshan was still standing there. But for some reason, Liang Xingyuan vaguely sensed he was watching him.

He couldn’t retract his out-of-control tentacles, and of course, he couldn’t find his rationality either.

A vague thought warned Liang Xingyuan—

If this continued, something bad would happen.

Perhaps heaven heard Liang Xingyuan’s not-so-sincere prayer. The moment he regained a sliver of human sanity, a deafening, earth-shattering roar came from outside the shattered balcony.

He looked up somewhat blankly. The sky outside had turned gray at some unknown time, and patches of gray-blue cumulonimbus clouds had gathered imperceptibly. Golden lightning faintly flickered among the clouds, as if a rainstorm were about to fall.

As far as the eye could see, more strange monsters crawled prostrate, heading toward him.

The unique, putrid smell of monsters wafted into Liang Xingyuan’s nostrils, stirring something deep in his nerves.

The murderous intent and aggression suppressed for years seemed to be ignited today. In that instant, he could no longer control his tentacles. Except for the one still held in Chu Junshan’s hand, all the other tentacles, following their master’s will, rushed toward the staggering monsters in an instant.

Tangling, twisting, strangling.

Such movements were so familiar, yet today they felt particularly strange.

Slaughter was the instinct engraved in the very blood and bones of a monster like him. The genes and bloodline he had suppressed for so long were impossible to hold back no matter what.

Even if he had learned human language, rules, and etiquette, so what?

Liang Xingyuan thought, somewhat sadly, that deep down he was still a bloodthirsty monster, merely wearing human skin for so long that he had forgotten he was still a real monster.

As he cleaned up the encroaching monsters, he worried. What would Chu Junshan, standing by, think as he took all this in?

Would he… would he finally show that look of disgust?

Would he think he was a disgusting monster? Would he… feel the urge to flee?

However, these heavy thoughts could not stop his slaughter. Liang Xingyuan, while indulging his nature, thought almost masochistically that this was just how he was.

Yes, he was a brutal, cold-blooded, genuine monster.

The more he thought this way, the swifter and more decisive his tentacles became. In an instant, the broken limbs of the monsters and their twisted screams filled the silent air, every second and every minute overstimulating his senses.

He was almost venting some unknown anger and sorrow, until all the monsters in sight had disappeared. Only then did emptiness strike Liang Xingyuan, abruptly pulling him back to reality.

A feeling of weightlessness and a dazed consciousness constantly reminded him of this fact—

In front of his lover, the person he cared about most, he had committed all these atrocities.

In that case, there was no way he could ever forgive him.

Liang Xingyuan thought somewhat sorrowfully. The tangled, pitch-black tentacles were still flailing in the air, showing no sign of wanting to withdraw.

There was no thought of it.

After such a long time, they finally broke the shackles that Liang Xingyuan had initially set and tasted the blood of their own kind.

At this moment, they still seemed unsatisfied, wanting something more, something sweeter.

Yet Liang Xingyuan remained in a daze, letting them follow their own will, spreading in all directions, reaching out into the outside world to seek fresher food.

Chu Junshan lowered his gaze, his face expressionless as he watched those tentacles. His drooping eyelids half-covered his tea-brown eyes. The look of disgust Liang Xingyuan had imagined in his heart did not appear there.

Instead, a trace of what could be called affectionate indulgence appeared.

However, even that affection had its limits.

As they stretched their tentacles to the extreme, their suckers clinging to the floor-to-ceiling windows of the balcony as they reached out into the outside world, Chu Junshan finally let go, returning the segment of tentacle that had been stroked for so long and had already absorbed his body heat.

“Liang Xingyuan.” Chu Junshan’s voice was light, yet carried the inexplicable authority of someone in power, as if what he said was not an ordinary sentence but a spell, an order: “What are you doing now?”

These words floated lightly in the air, yet they fell heavily onto Liang Xingyuan’s heart.

He paused, then instinctively lifted his head to look at Chu Junshan, as if gazing up at an unreachable king: “…”

What was he doing?

Yes, what was he doing?

Human rationality returned to his body instantly. The floating sense of loss and daze from moments ago vanished without a trace.

He was like someone who had been floating in the air for a long time, finally landing on solid ground. His legs were weak and soft, carrying a faint sense of unreality.

In the haze, Liang Xingyuan seemed to have returned to his world.

If a monster could also have its own world, then Chu Junshan was his world.

The sense of unreality was like mist before his eyes, slowly drifting away on the breeze and revealing the solid scene before him.

The aftermath of the battle between those monsters and the tentacles was devastating. Dark juices and unidentified objects were everywhere. This originally cozy home had become filthy. The small decorations Liang Xingyuan had carefully added to his life piece by piece now lay shattered on the floor.

In short, it was a complete mess.

Everything reminded him of what had just happened.

He no longer felt his earlier daze. Instead, intense fear replaced it.

To be fair, ever since Liang Xingyuan was born in that dark world, emerging from the sludge-filled abyss, he had never felt any fear.

The word “fear” seemed never meant to appear in his life.

After all, a creature that lived in darkness and filth had no need to feel fear.

But now, Liang Xingyuan suddenly felt that he had learned this emotion on his own.

He felt cold all over. The tentacles he couldn’t retract trembled slightly. His heartbeat was no longer like a normal human’s, but extremely slow, like a cold-blooded animal’s, almost imperceptible unless listened to quietly.

He was actually afraid.

Afraid of Chu Junshan’s reaction, afraid of Chu Junshan’s disgust, afraid of Chu Junshan’s rejection.

Would he come to hate him?

He probably would. Liang Xingyuan thought. After all, no one likes a monster.

Chu Junshan’s words earlier telling him to “come here” must have been out of curiosity.

If he told Chu Junshan that he was a monster that had crawled out of the abyss, covered in the filthy blood of countless beings and no different from the monsters he had just killed, would Chu Junshan still be willing to get close to him?

Liang Xingyuan guessed that he would probably abandon him.

He unconsciously raised his hand, as if trying to grasp something.

But halfway up, Liang Xingyuan involuntarily froze, then slowly withdrew it.

What would he say?

Under Liang Xingyuan’s tense and close watch, he finally heard Chu Junshan’s voice: “It’s already late.”

This simple sentence instantly captured Liang Xingyuan’s attention. He even felt his heart start beating vigorously again.

Chu Junshan’s tone was the same as usual, flat and without inflection. His tea-brown eyes dropped slightly, not looking at him: “I’m tired, so how about sleeping first?”

All the blood in Liang Xingyuan’s body froze.

He suspected something was wrong with his hearing organs. He hesitated for a long time. His eight brains, which felt unusually slow today, finally started working.

He just said… sleep first?

Chu Junshan wasn’t going to question what happened?

Liang Xingyuan pressed his lips together, his brows unconsciously knitting slightly as he earnestly searched Chu Junshan’s face for an expression.

But Chu Junshan didn’t seem to intend to deceive him.

He didn’t seem to notice the messy floor and window before him. He took off his handmade leather shoes at the entrance, stepped into the slippers Liang Xingyuan had personally chosen, picked out a few relatively clean, passable patches of floor, and slowly walked past Liang Xingyuan.

As if what had just happened before him wasn’t a slaughter that shouldn’t exist in this world, nor had his world been invaded by bizarre monsters, and, of course, his beloved wasn’t a tentacled monster with countless appendages.

Only when Chu Junshan’s figure completely disappeared from Liang Xingyuan’s sight did the gaze he’d fixed on the other finally relax.

Liang Xingyuan suddenly felt a bit lost.

Chu Junshan was just going to let this matter slide?

He hesitated, a little uncertain.

Liang Xingyuan paced back and forth in place for a long time, thinking, and finally decided to do something—

For instance, clean up the mess in front of him.

Even though his mind was clouded, he should take responsibility.

Since Chu Junshan wasn’t here at the moment, Liang Xingyuan didn’t restrain the tentacles that were still stirring restlessly in the corners.

“Clean this stuff up.”

Liang Xingyuan issued the order coldly.

Having finally tasted a morsel of flesh today, the tentacles didn’t want to obey Liang Xingyuan’s words and began to argue back in a chorus—

“No way, no way. This stuff is so dirty. Why don’t you do it yourself?!”

“Yeah! Don’t wanna clean it!”

“…That human just now was so fragrant and soft. When it touched them, I almost melted… hehe…”

Mentioning the first human they had truly touched since arriving in this world, the tentacles each began to voice their opinions. Black tentacles writhed like a tide in midair, occasionally flipping over to reveal snowy-white inner flesh as they chattered away.

Liang Xingyuan’s tone was utterly flat, yet only the still-ramping tentacles could sense a wave of frost suddenly spread through the air, freezing everything in place.

He looked coldly at the pale cyan frost mist spreading in the air, condensing at the tips of each tentacle. Those constantly writhing appendages seemed to be flash-frozen, even their tips curling up.

Those symbols of the monster finally grew obedient, staying still in place and leaving no room for struggle.

“Go on.”

Liang Xingyuan’s voice carried a rare weariness. He lowered his eyes, his fingertips gently rubbing his brow. After a long while, he sighed.

He turned around. Out of the corner of his eye, the tentacles, now free to move again as the frost melted, finally began grudgingly to follow Liang Xingyuan’s initial order, all the while muttering under their breath.

“So annoying, annoying, annoying. Can’t do it yourself…”

“Exactly… whatever.”

“You guys should stop talking. I’m still afraid he’ll cut us up…”

Liang Xingyuan remained unmoved. He turned around, crouched down, and reached out to pick up the broken ornaments.

He had been in this world for several years. This house, when it first came into his hands, was completely bare, even more devoid of life than Chu Junshan’s place.

It was also he who had, bit by bit, pieced together every little fixture and furnishing in this house, every detail designed from a blueprint he had simulated countless times in his mind.

But now…

Liang Xingyuan looked around, tossed the broken pieces of the ceramic rabbit into the trash can, and sighed softly.

These upheavals had shattered them all.

Before he knew it, those dark thoughts once again surfaced in Liang Xingyuan’s mind.

He shook his head, dispelling those unpleasant notions and forcing himself to focus on the task at hand.

Half an hour later, the tentacles, carrying mops and rags, retreated from every corner with sighs of complaint.

They dared not speak their anger and could only begrudgingly wash the cleaning tools clean, then put them back in place. When they returned, they shrank back timidly. The same tentacles that had just torn apart those ferocious monsters without mercy now seemed, before Liang Xingyuan, like weak little quails.

“King, they’re washed.”

“The windows are polished clean.”

“The floor is cleaned, too.”

The tentacles said in a chorus, looking downcast and docile.

“That’s enough.” Liang Xingyuan had also mostly sorted out the broken ornaments, carefully wrapping them in two layers of garbage bags and even sticking a “Contains Sharp Objects” label with strong tape before tossing them into the outdoor trash can. “You may go back.”

What the tentacles were expecting was not this answer, but something more—

For example, once again searching for some monsters to eat and feast on. After all, they had been hungry for a long time. Now, they wanted to eat something.

But these thoughts had no chance of coming up against Liang Xingyuan’s cold expression.

Even if they were unwilling, they had no way to resist.

Liang Xingyuan lowered his head. Only after those disobedient tentacles had finally retreated did he slowly walk into the bedroom along a familiar path.

They had been cleaning outside for about half an hour. If it followed Chu Junshan’s usual habits, he should have already finished washing up by now.

What worried him now was how he would face him later.

Could they still pretend nothing had happened?

As for getting the marriage certificate, should they still go through with it?

Liang Xingyuan’s worries dissolved the moment he saw Chu Junshan lying in bed with his eyes closed, clearly asleep for a long time.

He must have been feeling tired, just as he had said, and so had already fallen asleep.

Liang Xingyuan suddenly felt relieved, a subtle emotion—neither disappointment nor relief—flooding through his heart, sour and bitter, swelling in his chest until a gentle touch would make the sweet-and-sour soft juice flow out.

As for everything, they could wait until Chu Junshan woke up to talk.

Now, he just wanted to lie quietly beside Chu Junshan just like any other night.

He had a strange, hidden worry inside him that maybe, in this lifetime, he would only have tonight to lie beside him like this again.

Thinking of this, Liang Xingyuan couldn’t help but sigh.

In the darkness, he could only hear the wind brushing against the curtains outside. The streetlight slanted through the latticed window, dragging a long patch of light across the wooden floor.

He heard Chu Junshan’s breathing and the steady pounding of his own heartbeat.

Chu Junshan. Chu Junshan. Chu Junshan. Chu Junshan. Chu Junshan.

He loved him, loved him to death. Even if Chu Junshan stood before him right now and told him to cut off all his tentacles, it wouldn’t matter.

As long as he was happy, healthy, and well, that was enough.

But the only thing he feared was Chu Junshan hating him.

He seemed not to care much about his tentacles. In fact, as far as Liang Xingyuan could tell, Chu Junshan hadn’t even expressed any opinion on the matter. So, Liang Xingyuan’s heart hung like a bucket suspended over a cliff, half-filled with water, swaying and clinking with a crisp sound.

He loves.

In the darkness, the string gave a gentle pull in one direction.

He doesn’t love.

The rope at the other end tilted silently.

And so, Liang Xingyuan’s heart abruptly tilted to the other side.

This faint yet deadly tugging sensation made him feel terrible.

He felt like a movie protagonist suffering from unrequited love, clutching a withered flower and stubbornly choosing an answer in his heart.

How he wished that Chu Junshan would love him.

No matter what he loved—whether it was the person “Liang Xingyuan” or his tentacles—loving everything about him, all of him, would be best.

But in reality, he didn’t even dare to have such a small hope.

Those monsters were right. He was simply not fit to be a king.

In the face of humanity’s incredibly complex love, he was nothing but a coward.

The tentacles seemed to understand his pain and struggle, spreading silently in the darkness, following their master’s subconscious, weaving a vast net that coiled in every corner of the room, constantly expanding and wrapping around the other master of this bed.

They chased after Chu Junshan’s warm body temperature, greedily rubbing against his exposed hand and cheek, like murmurs from another world.

What was once a hunting tool now became a tool for caressing, slowly winding around Chu Junshan’s body with no killing intent, only a playful intimacy.

Perhaps Chu Junshan’s silent permission gave them the courage to go further. The tentacles slid forward, their tips with tiny suckers gently sweeping and touching the skin beneath Chu Junshan’s pajamas.

A sweet but not cloying fragrance slowly spread through the air. Without needing to focus, Liang Xingyuan could still detect the gentle, soothing scent.

The tentacles slithered forward silently, faithfully conveying the soft and warm touch to their master, until—

A slender, fair hand appeared before the tentacles and caught the most troublesome one.

In the darkness, Chu Junshan opened his eyes, his voice carrying a slight hoarseness that was not normally noticeable: “Enough.”

His tone was extremely ambiguous. Although his voice was clear and cold, in the darkness it seemed to draw countless silver threads connecting their bodies, their heartbeats resonating at the same frequency.

However, to the insecure Liang Xingyuan, this sentence took on a completely different meaning.

…He didn’t want him.

Liang Xingyuan’s heart trembled slightly, as if scalded by something scorching hot.

His breathing began to tremble. Uncontrollably, he forced his tentacles to struggle free from Chu Junshan’s palm.

He suddenly felt a pang of regret.

Was the very idea of seeking a human companion wrong from the very beginning?

Humans and monsters were inherently hostile to each other. Why hadn’t he understood this logic?

Or had the existence of humans fostered an overly romantic fantasy that someone might love every part of him completely?

Yet, this was clearly impossible.

He knew it. Chu Junshan was already growing impatient.

In the near future, or perhaps even now, he would abandon him.

As expected, concepts like fondness and love could never exist between humans and monsters…

Before this thought could settle, a cold, clear voice suddenly arose beside Liang Xingyuan’s ear: “Go to sleep now.”

Liang Xingyuan was stunned for a moment, momentarily unable to grasp the current situation.

He turned his head and caught sight of a pair of eyes as clear and bright as spring water in the darkness: “If you keep fussing like this and can’t get up tomorrow, we won’t be going to the Civil Affairs Bureau to get the marriage certificate.”

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