EDEH Chapter 94

After Huo Yanji and Sang Jue spent several days as savages in the forest, they deliberately staged an encounter with the search and rescue team near the solar base station.

 

The underground city was extremely grateful, because of the council’s involvement, the relationship between the underground city and the surface was now very delicate. Combined with this disaster in the underground city, there was a subtle sense of losing its purpose.

 

If Huo Yanji had another accident near the underground city at this time, it would only intensify this delicate feeling.

 

As for how he got from the fire zone to the solar base station, Huo Yanji only briefly explained that due to magnetic field imbalance, both the communicator and compass had lost function, so he got lost in the mountains.

 

Most people didn’t doubt this explanation, though they were still puzzled about details, especially confused about when Sang Jue had appeared. But given Huo Yanji’s status, no one dared to press further.

 

Only Lu Lan kept frowning, but she didn’t say anything, only telling them to “rest well.”

 

Actually, neither of them were very tired. Sang Jue hadn’t done much at all—for at least half of the four days, he was either sleeping in Huo Yanji’s arms or being carried around, his feet barely touching the ground.

 

For Huo Yanji, these four days might have been the most mentally relaxed four days he’d had.

 

Not overthinking anything else, killing monsters with Sang Jue, teaching him wilderness survival knowledge, explaining the habits of surrounding creatures… Over time, it seemed like this was how they should have been living all along.

 

This state was only broken when they encountered the search and rescue team.

 

Huo Yanji’s relaxed nerves tensed up again, just like the past dozen years.

 

Sang Jue, who had been pulled onto his lap, accused: “I’m a dragon with dignity. You can’t just pick me up and carry me around all the time.”

 

As he said this, Huo Yanji’s index finger was still in his mouth, the fingertip wet.

 

Huo Yanji’s eyes darkened: “You’re too light.”

 

Sang Jue bit the finger in his mouth and snorted coldly, mumbling: “When I change back into a dragon, you won’t be able to lift me.”

 

That was true—he wouldn’t be able to lift him then.

 

Huo Yanji had no intention of continuing this topic. His other large hand had already slipped under the shirt hem, caressing the only place with some meat: “This is my only undershirt. If you wear it, what will I wear?”

 

Sang Jue said: “You can wear someone else’s. I want to be covered with your scent.”

 

Huo Yanji withdrew his finger, pressed Sang Jue’s waist, and lowered his head slightly, brushing against the soft red lips: “If I wear someone else’s clothes, wouldn’t I have their scent then?”

 

“Doesn’t the underground city have new clothes either…”

 

Sang Jue felt ticklish from the brushing and really wanted to kiss him directly, but just as he raised his head, Huo Yanji evilly dodged away.

 

He got a bit angry, raised both hands to wrap around Huo Yanji’s neck, and domineeringly pressed him toward himself—

 

Today this dragon must kiss his human!

 

Sang Jue said fiercely: “You’re not allowed to dodge.”

 

Huo Yanji rubbed the round butt, and just as Sang Jue was about to kiss him, he deliberately moved away and bit the thin red cheek.

 

“…”

 

His tail angrily emerged, tightly wrapping around the waist in front of him. The restrained Huo Yanji could barely move, his back falling onto the bedding as his lips were firmly pressed by the evil dragon.

 

Sang Jue had no experience, neither practical nor theoretical, and didn’t even know how to kiss properly.

 

He wasn’t human, nor really an animal, and didn’t have the natural mating instincts that males were born with. He could only taste the human’s lips like a wolf cub grooming its companion’s fur.

 

“Sang Jue, you can still get off me now if you want.”

 

“No.” Sang Jue understood Huo Yanji’s desire. He was direct and puzzled: “You want me, so why restrain yourself? You kissed me yesterday, but you’re still alive now, and your contamination index is zero, which means I really don’t have contamination. We can… mmph.”

 

His nape was suddenly pressed down. Sang Jue’s eyes widened as he fully realized that Huo Yanji’s understanding of kissing was different from his own understanding of kissing.

 

Even kissing was so fierce, like fighting.

 

Sang Jue, who was kissed until slightly oxygen-deprived, thought to himself—as an excellent male, he should be magnanimous and not fight with his wife.

 

The white shirt had already been pushed up to his shoulder blades. Sang Jue was soft as if boneless, obediently letting himself be manipulated—this appearance easily aroused others’ sadistic desires.

 

Huo Yanji hooked his flexible waist, their positions instantly switching. Large hands parted Sang Jue’s legs, knees pressing in.

 

“?” Sang Jue looked puzzledly at Huo Yanji who had suddenly stopped.

 

Huo Yanji caressed his jawline and suddenly said: “Sang Jue, in peaceful times, humans’ maximum lifespan is only about a hundred years. I won’t be an exception.”

 

Sang Jue continued to look at him with those pure eyes.

 

“Even if I’m lucky enough to live without illness or disaster, I’ll have at most fifty or sixty years left, but your life might be very long.”

 

“…” Sang Jue suddenly didn’t want Huo Yanji to continue.

 

“If I die in the future, what will you do?” The young human general felt worry for an individual for the first time, letting out an extremely faint sigh.

 

“Then I’ll eat you.” Sang Jue pursed his lips. “And then…”

 

His mind suddenly went blank. Sang Jue couldn’t think of what should follow “and then.”

 

If the doctor died and Huo Yanji died too, how would he spend his long life?

 

Maybe from the beginning, he shouldn’t have made contact with humans—that way he would have remained a carefree little evil dragon forever.

 

“I will die someday.” Huo Yanji repeated it again, unclear whether he was saying it to himself or to Sang Jue.

 

“I know.” The slender tail emerged from between his legs, wrapping around Huo Yanji’s waist and pulling down. Sang Jue, having rarely thought things through, said seriously: “The doctor told me that birth, aging, illness, and death are humanity’s eternal laws, and I should learn to accept partings with a smile at the appropriate time.”

 

“Will you do that?”

 

“I should.” Sang Jue said: “If the doctor dies, I’ll see her off with a smile.”

 

“What about me?”

 

Sang Jue answered without pause: “For you as well.”

 

Huo Yanji said: “That’s good then.”

 

Smiling wasn’t a difficult thing, but crying was hard—he had never learned how.

 

Sang Jue thought drowsily, suddenly felt a sharp pain that brought him back to his senses, and widened his eyes: “Are you going to enter me?”

 

Huo Yanji used Sang Jue’s unique phrasing to ask back, lightly coaxing: “Didn’t you want to know how going upstream feels good? You can only know by experiencing it yourself.”

 

That seemed to make some sense.

 

Sang Jue’s curiosity was indeed piqued, and he struggled with the decision for a long time, his CPU nearly burning out.

 

On one hand, he felt that as a male, he should be the one entering—but Ji Ji was also male.

 

How did human same-sex couples usually handle this situation? Rock, paper, scissors? Or see who was better at fighting?

 

Sang Jue leaned toward the latter.

 

Ji Ji could definitely beat him in a fight, but Ji Ji would play dirty—once his tail was pinched, his body would go soft.

 

While Huo Yanji was a pure male, his true form wasn’t a natural life, just some unknown liquid, so there shouldn’t be gender distinctions.

 

So him being on the bottom made sense.

 

Huo Yanji watched Sang Jue thinking and curved his lips slightly: “Come to any conclusions?”

 

Sang Jue said seriously: “You need to be gentle. If it hurts, I won’t be able to control myself from biting you, and I don’t want to hurt you.”

 

“…”

 

Huo Yanji’s eyes darkened and he directly blocked that mouth that was seductive without knowing it.

 

Though they were both about to explode, the preliminaries still took nearly twenty minutes. So strange. Sang Jue wanted to struggle, but his tail instinctively tightened around Huo Yanji’s waist, unwilling to let him go: “What are you applying?”

 

“The leftover green sore from before.” Huo Yanji answered patiently, veins jumping on his arms, a drop of sweat sliding down his sharp jawline into Sang Jue’s neck hollow.

 

Green sore, extracted from the spider queen’s corpse before, not completely used up.

 

Humans were always good at making full use of everything.

 

…

 

A third of the Thousand Wolf Mountains was still in raging fire. Even under the night sky, the red glow filled the heavens, fine ash falling on soldiers’ heads or onto the camp tents.

 

Like light snow falling, a romance unique to nature.

 

Lu Lan anxiously asked: “Still no news of Madam?”

 

“No, we can’t contact any of the people who went out with Madam.”

 

“Search harder!”

 

After all, Evelyn wasn’t a battle-hardened person like Huo Yanji. She had never been to the surface, couldn’t even use a dagger, let alone deal with contaminated monsters.

 

Now that she’d lost contact with the base, it was uncertain if she could survive even a day.

 

Lu Lan murmured: “I shouldn’t have brought her to the surface.”

 

A soldier beside her volunteered to take blame: “It’s not your fault.”

 

Lu Lan wasn’t there at the time. Evelyn said she wanted to contribute to the firefighting efforts and insisted on leaving the camp. The soldiers didn’t dare refuse her and could only let Evelyn leave with over ten people.

 

However, in less than a day, all contact was lost.

 

“It’s not your fault.” Lu Lan wearily waved her hand.

 

Knowing Evelyn’s mindset was wrong, she had still soft-heartedly brought her to the surface.

 

“Sir, the general has been found and the solar base station situation is basically confirmed. Do we evacuate tomorrow as planned?”

 

“Wait for now.”

 

Lu Lan walked out of the tent, standing in the cool night.

 

She gazed into the distance, her eyes full of heaviness, as if those flickering flames weren’t burning the mountains but humanity’s future.

 

After a long while, Lu Lan was about to leave when she glimpsed a nearby tent—Huo Yanji was resting inside.

 

She suddenly remembered the youth who had been clutching Huo Yanji’s shirt corner when they encountered him in the evening, a trace of doubt flashing in her eyes.

 

With the intention of having a chat, she approached the tent and asked quietly: “Is the general asleep?”

 

After a while, a slightly breathless young voice came from inside: “A-asleep.”

 

“Then I’ll come back tomorrow.” Lu Lan turned and walked two steps, then suddenly realized something, looking back at the opaque tent with a knowing expression.

 

Lu Lan had once been an excellent supervisor executive officer who applied for retirement at fifty-two due to personal issues and returned to the underground city.

 

She had worked with Huo Yanji for nearly ten years, personally watching him rise from an ordinary supervisor to high positions step by step.

 

“It’s lonely at the top” might be false for others, but it fit Huo Yanji perfectly.

 

He had abandoned all personal emotions, wholeheartedly devoted to the collective, yet exceptionally “cruel” to individuals, never showing anyone mercy or love, so indifferent he didn’t seem like a human full of selfish desires—even more so than old Herman.

 

For a long time, Lu Lan, like others, thought Huo Yanji would either die from being stabbed in the back by the people or grow old in loneliness, completely alone with nothing.

 

Until a little monster broke into the Supreme Executive’s world, and all personal emotions began with that first sight.

 

“We’ve been discovered.” Huo Yanji said quietly: “Others can’t hear us anymore, cover yourself.”

 

“Mm…” Sang Jue was bullied until his whole body was covered in a light blush, either from being kissed or pinched.

 

He obediently covered his mouth, his usually pure and calm gaze veiled with a layer of misty moisture, as if he’d been corrupted.

 

The mountain fire made the air within a hundred miles especially hot and dry all night long.

 

Sang Jue’s last words before falling into drowsy sleep weren’t “good night” but an accusation: “Don’t stuff my tail in there anymore!”

 

**

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