“Fair enough.” Qian Duoduo reacted quickly, his voice calm—or perhaps he was simply numb. Humans often manifest a staggering, unflappable potential when they are busy escaping reality. “It might hurt a bit when the time comes. You’ll just have to bear it.”
“Right, right... no problem, I’ll bear... wait, what?” Zhao Meiyou was in a state of total cognitive dissonance, barely managing to scrape together a shred of logic. Why was *he* the one who had to bear it? What kind of gender-bending twist was this?
Qian Duoduo didn't bother explaining further. He simply shed his coat. While the archaeologist uniforms weren't exactly form-fitting, the female body he had manifested was now straining against the fabric, the buttons on his chest nearing their breaking point. He unfastened his collar and shot Zhao Meiyou a look. “What are you standing there for?”
The moment the words left his mouth, he seemed to realize something. “...You don't know how?” He paused, then added, “Do you need me to teach you?”
“Uh, Brother Qian,” Zhao Meiyou said, his answer completely tangential, “Can’t you just do what you did last time and turn into an android?” Androids surely had gestation functions, right? That would save a lot of trouble and, more importantly, effectively prevent any complications during labor.
“Androids require high-precision transformation. My remaining energy can’t handle it.” Qian Duoduo looked down at his own figure, seemingly coming to an understanding. “Is this body not to your taste? What kind do you like?” He then added an explanation, “This body is currently in its ovulation phase. There might be some bloating, but this is the window when a woman is most likely to conceive.”
Zhao Meiyou nearly blurted out that he wasn't picky, but he swallowed the words just in time. Sector 33 was hardly a place that prized chastity. Born and raised in the lower sectors with a mother who was a dancer, Zhao Meiyou had seen what he should and shouldn't see, and knew how to do what he should and shouldn't do.
—But he was getting far too much of a bargain here.
This wasn't just a fleeting moment of pleasure; this was “procreation.”
Qian Duoduo seemed to sense his hesitation. “You don't want the child?”
If Taizhu or Diao Chan were here to see the expression on Zhao Meiyou’s face, they would have died laughing. Like a computer glitching out, he managed to squeeze out a single sentence: “I’ll take responsibility.”
“I’m teasing. Don't be so tense.” Qian Duoduo sighed. “Relax. If you’re too stressed, you’ll have trouble performing.”
Zhao Meiyou: “...”
“In reality, humans cannot gestate life within a quantum field threshold. This is just a performance, a process of labor to deceive the ruins. Nothing will actually be born.”
“Or do you really want one?” Qian Duoduo looked at Zhao Meiyou, actually joking this time. “I owe the Metropolitan Government a mountain of debt. I don't have marriage or child-bearing rights until it’s paid off.”
Without waiting for Zhao Meiyou to respond, he hooked his fingers into Zhao’s tie and yanked him forward. The two of them tumbled to the floor, one after the other. Qian Duoduo straddled Zhao Meiyou and immediately began unbuckling the other man’s belt. “Don't forget we’re running for our lives. Madam Butterfly will find this room in ten minutes.”
Though most of Zhao Meiyou’s sanity was currently out to lunch, he still managed to zero in on the key point with lethal precision. “Ten minutes?”
“Don't worry about your pride at a time like this. The average male lasts between two to ten minutes; it’s even shorter in high-stress environments.” Qian Duoduo sized up Zhao Meiyou’s proportions and seemed to let out a small laugh. “Of course, if you want to try something more stimulating, there’s a specific ruin for that. I can take you to experience it later.”
Before Zhao Meiyou could exercise his silver tongue, a damp, soft warmth pressed against him.
Any bed with more than one person on it is a battlefield. In this moment, the floor became an extension of that bed.
Gunfire and rain, flesh and blood.
In this round, at least, Zhao Meiyou was utterly defeated.
***
Time within the ruins was a mystery. An unknown period passed—perhaps days, perhaps months. Zhao Meiyou came to a profound understanding of what Qian Duoduo had meant by “it might hurt a bit” and “you’ll just have to bear it.”
“I once borrowed an ability called ‘Grafting.’”
As he spoke, Qian Duoduo pulled a cigarette from his pack, lit it, and took a drag. Zhao Meiyou was currently scouring the floor for his pants. They had just escaped Madam Butterfly’s pursuit, scrambling through a corridor of mirrors before collapsing into a room resembling a dressing area, where silk kimonos of every color were piled on the floor in a dizzying heap.
“Brother Qian, I’ve got no problem with you having a post-coital smoke, but I don't think nicotine is good for the fetus.” Zhao Meiyou still couldn't find his pants and was starting to consider the possibility of just walking around stark naked. It was just the two of them in the ruins anyway—Madam Butterfly didn't count as human, and the word ‘shameless’ had clearly lost all meaning between them.
Qian Duoduo said nothing. He walked over and pressed the cigarette into Zhao Meiyou’s mouth.
Zhao Meiyou tilted his head, looking at him. “Mmph?”
The next second, an utterly indescribable sensation crawled up from the soles of his feet, rapidly flooding his entire body. Zhao Meiyou felt as if he had been chewed on from head to toe; everything below his waist felt like it had been hit by a firecracker. “Brother Qian.” He hissed the moment he opened his mouth. “What did you do?”
“I didn't do it; you did.” Qian Duoduo patted his shoulder and took the cigarette back. “The ‘Grafting’ ability can transfer a person’s physical sensations. Enjoy.”
He had brought this on himself.
Forget finding his pants; Zhao Meiyou could barely even walk.
Zhao Meiyou didn't have much of a concept of “childbirth.” Due to biological barriers, it had always remained in the realm of the metaphysical. Aside from his mother, he had only ever heard one story about it from Taizhu.
It was about a certain ruin—a cave ruin starting with the letter S. Within its bottomless, magnificent, and eerie architecture lived a massive, unspeakable creature. “They say that thing has many eyes and emits a strange light. Anyone who sees the light goes mad,” Taizhu had said. “Except for one woman.”
Legendary archaeologists were almost always female. “She discovered a way to look directly at the light while maintaining her sanity.”
“How?”
“Labor,” Taizhu replied. “To be precise, the pain of labor.”
God said, *Let there be light.*
When a mother gestates, she is the one who creates the light.
“Labor pain is the maximum pain the human body can perceive without dying. To put it bluntly, when a mother is giving birth, she can’t focus on anything else. Unless she dies, nothing can interrupt that process—not a god, not a monster with a thousand eyes. Nothing.”
At the time, Zhao Meiyou had been very interested in the story. His ability was transformation, and he had even thought about turning into a female body to try it out, only to be cut off by a punch from Taizhu. “Male archaeologists who didn't believe in the curse tried it. Every single one ended up with permanent erectile dysfunction. I suggest you value your life.”
And yet, what was destined to come could not be avoided.
During their months of flight through the ruins, Zhao Meiyou endured Qian Duoduo’s physical sensations. Hormones were like explosives—or rather, nuclear bombs, the Sword of Damocles. In short, they were the most destructive weapon since the dawn of humanity, making him realize with agonizing clarity what it meant for “a woman’s body to be a natural battlefield.”
First came the vomiting. Zhao Meiyou felt like he was puking up his own brains; no, perhaps he actually *was* puking them up. As Qian Duoduo’s body grew heavier, his movements slowed significantly. Initially, Zhao Meiyou carried him. “Zhao Meiyou, this position isn't working. You’re poking me.” “Brother Qian, survival is the priority! That old hag is coming again, just deal with it!”
But before they had gone far, Qian Duoduo suddenly jumped down and pushed him away. “Brother Qian?” Before Zhao Meiyou could figure out what was happening, he doubled over and vomited until the world spun, without so much as a transition.
Qian Duoduo backed far away. “I told you, that position wasn't working. You were poking my stomach.”
Zhao Meiyou vomited until his vision went dark and his legs turned to jelly. The only strength he had left was enough to flip a middle finger.
Next were the bizarre cravings. Zhao Meiyou’s remaining brain cells couldn't fathom why someone puking to that extent would still have an appetite for such nonsensical things. He knew the old saying about craving sour for a boy and spicy for a girl, but— “Brother Qian.” Zhao Meiyou struggled for a few days before finally reaching his limit. “Can you manifest some food for me?”
They had hidden in a library. Qian Duoduo had found several books on female physiology and looked up from them. “What do you want to eat?”
Zhao Meiyou struggled, trying to maintain his dignity. “...I want something sweet.”
Qian Duoduo manifested a chocolate cake. Zhao Meiyou immediately turned and puked. He abandoned his dignity instantly. “I don't want that! I want to eat dirt!”
“...?” Qian Duoduo was a wall of question marks. “Is that some kind of metaphor? Are you broke?”
With a snap of his fingers, he manifested a pile of glittering gold coins. He cracked one open; it was chocolate.
Zhao Meiyou vomited even harder. “No.” He felt like he might have puked up his ability to organize language as well. It took a long time before he could get out a full sentence. “Just dirt! Soil! The kind you grow cabbage in! I want to eat dirt!” By the end, he was practically sobbing. “I just want to eat goddamn dirt!”
Qian Duoduo was actually a bit frightened by him. “Zhao Meiyou, are you okay?”
“I don't think I’m okay, Brother Qian.” Zhao Meiyou fell into an unprecedented state of breakdown. “Am I dying?”
“Wait, wait, I’m almost at the part about pregnancy reactions.” Qian Duoduo flipped through the book frantically, scanning it at high speed. “Women can indeed experience abnormal taste symptoms during pregnancy, possibly related to trace elements in the body...”
“To hell with your trace elements!” Zhao Meiyou’s frustration was hitting the ceiling. “I just want to eat dirt! Who did I offend to deserve this?!”
This was difficult. Qian Duoduo was at a loss. “But I can’t actually give you dirt to eat, can I? Do you really want it?”
“...This is a goddamn ruin! People can even die here, *hurk*—what can’t I eat?” Zhao Meiyou, the man of iron will, couldn't even speak straight before he started puking again. His glorious reputation was crumbling into dust. Finally, the Mad Butcher snapped, howling, “Do you not love me anymore?!”
Qian Duoduo: “????????????????”
Zhao Meiyou wailed in despair, “You don't love me! You scumbag!”
A massive accusation dropped out of thin air. Qian Duoduo buried his head in the book, finally finding the section: *Changes in estrogen and progesterone levels in the female body can lead to significant emotional shifts, specifically manifested as unprovoked anger or the urge to cry.*
“...” Qian Duoduo fell silent. His belly—or rather, her belly—was already quite large. He bent down with some difficulty, hugged Zhao Meiyou, stroked his head, and said dryly, “I’m here.”
Zhao Meiyou continued his tearful accusations: “You have zero sincerity!”
“I was wrong. It’s all my fault.” Qian Duoduo had a sudden flash of inspiration. He found a romance novel and desperately read out the lines within: “*Love is more difficult to hide than a murder... in the night of love, there is the noon sun...*”
“*...I will build a willow coffin for myself at your doorstep, and summon my soul in your room. I will write of loyal love, and sing loudly in the night of death...*”
Zhao Meiyou didn't know when he had cried himself to sleep. When he woke up, his throat and head felt like they were exploding simultaneously. “You’re awake?” He looked up, meeting Qian Duoduo’s eyes. “Want some water?”
Zhao Meiyou nodded. Qian Duoduo snapped his fingers and handed him a glass of warm water.
“Brother Qian.” After finishing the water, Zhao Meiyou felt his emotions finally stabilize. “Sorry about that. You had to see me like that.”
“No need to apologize. I didn't expect the reaction to be this intense either.” Qian Duoduo said, “The Grafting lasts for about six months. Just hang in there. Once the duration is up, it’ll be over.”
“Brother Qian, don't.” Zhao Meiyou covered his eyes and gave a bitter laugh. “This is the last bit of dignity I have left. At least let me see this through to the end.”
“...Are you sure?”
“Just consider it a way to comfort me.”
“But you really cried quite pathetically. And puked pathetically.”
“Then you’ll just have to coax me more.”
“...”
“Come on, Brother Qian. After everything we’ve been through, what’s there to hide?” Zhao Meiyou gave a raspy laugh and reached out his arms. “Come here, give me a hug.”
Qian Duoduo sighed, bent down, and gave him a full embrace.
Half a minute later, Zhao Meiyou was puking his guts out again.
“...I must have pressed on the stomach,” Qian Duoduo said. “I’m a bit slow with these things. Sorry.”
“No, Brother Qian, this stomach, *hurk*—is way too fragile—*hurk*—” Zhao Meiyou felt like he was puking with a rhythmic beat. Finding humor in his misery, he said, “This has to be a chronic issue... you don't usually eat properly, do you?”
“At least I don't eat dirt.” Qian Duoduo brought out a bowl of something. “This. I made it while you were asleep.”
Zhao Meiyou looked at it while puking. “...What’s this? A flowerpot?”
“The dirt you wanted. I tried to make it a bit cleaner.” Qian Duoduo sounded a bit hesitant. “Just eat a few bites. It should be fine... right?”
Zhao Meiyou stopped puking. He snatched it like he was fighting for food in a cafeteria and shoved a huge mouthful into his mouth.
“...Brother Qian, you shouldn't lie to people like this.” Zhao Meiyou took a bite, wanted to puke, and forced himself to swallow. “Did you think we kids from the lower sectors have never tasted cocoa powder?”
“I knew it.” Qian Duoduo sighed and snapped his fingers. A large cluster of roses suddenly sprouted from the flowerpot.
“This time it’s real dirt,” Qian Duoduo said. “Just one bite. Don't eat too much.”
Zhao Meiyou shoved the flowers into his mouth as well.
***
In the days that followed, Zhao Meiyou gradually understood why his mother used to say, “An infant begins consuming its mother while still in the womb.” This was especially true since Qian Duoduo wouldn't actually give birth to a child; the feeling of sacrificing everything for an unknown outcome was even more intense.
After seven months, Zhao Meiyou’s reactions lessened significantly. The two of them became increasingly adept at handling the pursuit; since they couldn't kill the thing, they just had to act according to the situation. But Zhao Meiyou’s intermittent loss of sanity still flared up occasionally. Once, after literally beating Madam Butterfly into a semi-crippled state, he started crying again. Between sobs, he lamented, “Madam Butterfly is already so tragic, we’re such horrible people...”
Qian Duoduo was unfazed now. He wiped Zhao’s tears while continuing to pummel the enemy. “Don't cry. I’ll go easy on her.”
“Okay then.” Zhao Meiyou felt like his tears were flowing from his tear ducts straight into his mouth. He wiped his drool and said, “Brother, can you chop off that leg of hers? It looks delicious.”
Madam Butterfly had an exquisitely beautiful face, but her body frequently changed forms. This time, she had turned into a spider-like crawling creature. Qian Duoduo sized her up, unsure which leg Zhao Meiyou was referring to. “Which one do you want?”
Before he could finish, Zhao Meiyou had already drooled and hacked off a leg. Having secured his prize, he immediately retreated, dragging Qian Duoduo along to make their escape.
They set up a base in a hidden spot, equipped with plenty of pots and pans. Zhao Meiyou was extremely skilled in the kitchen; for the past few months, whenever he was mentally stable, he spent his time researching how to improve their meals. He figured the spider leg was similar to a crab leg—it could be braised or made into soup. He raised his voice and asked, “Brother Qian, how do you want to eat it?”
In the end, he made a spicy stir-fry. He scrubbed, cleaned, and marinated it, fried it in hot oil, then stir-fried it again, braised it in wine, and finally reduced the sauce over a high flame. Once it was on the table, Qian Duoduo was already well-versed in the routine. He immediately began praising it mindlessly: “Delicious.”
Perhaps there was too much chili. Zhao Meiyou hadn't taken more than two bites before his tears started flowing again. He waved a hand. “Brother Qian, you eat. I’m fine. It’s just the spice.”
Qian Duoduo said nothing. Holding a piece of the hind leg he’d just cracked open, he looked at him very solemnly.
Sure enough, Zhao Meiyou’s eyes turned into open faucets. As he cried, he began to project his genuine emotions again. “Dammit, I’m really a piece of work. Madam Butterfly is so tragic, how can I eat her...”
In truth, Zhao Meiyou himself was becoming numb to it. With his hormones highly disordered for months, his entire physical system was out of control. He didn't want to cry at all; he didn't feel sad in the slightest. But his body told him, *You must cry, you are very sad.* Only his soul was normal now, yet it was trapped within a physical shell that was spinning like a crazed washing machine. The struggle between the two resulted in an utterly bizarre scene—Zhao Meiyou feasting on the leg, eating with great sorrow and crying with great joy.
This was likely the literal definition of “crying because it’s so good.”
Zhao Meiyou’s drool and tears flowed in torrents. As he ate, he looked at Qian Duoduo again. “Brother Qian, you—”
“I’m not unhappy I love you you’re doing the right thing I’m sorry it’s my fault whatever else you want I’ll manifest it for you.” Qian Duoduo immediately entered recitation mode. He felt that after getting out, he could probably write a comprehensive guide on how to coax people. This was the dynamic he and Zhao Meiyou had hammered out. Fortunately, the man wasn't picky; as long as the options were listed and he could find the sentence he wanted to hear, that was enough. “Do you want a hug?”
Zhao Meiyou: “...I was going to ask if you aren't eating that leg in your hand, can I have it?” He reached out his hand. “But a hug would be nice too.”
Qian Duoduo pushed away the face that was leaning in. “Wipe your hands. They’re covered in oil.”
In the end, both of them ended up with oil all over their faces. Zhao Meiyou was happy, grinning from ear to ear.
How twisted, how beautiful, how absurd, how sublime. During the ten months of uneven time flow within the ruins, Zhao Meiyou and Qian Duoduo spent a period of time unlike any other. It was hard to say if they were heading toward destruction or returning to their true selves, like a train that never stops suddenly driving into a wilderness under ten thousand stars. *Pregnancy at least has some perks,* Zhao Meiyou finally concluded. A fetus consumes your past years, allowing a person to become a child again, growing up once more in a clumsy, ridiculous fashion.
When the moment of labor arrived, neither of them had particularly intense emotions—at the very least, they were far more composed than during their initial chaos. *I guess I’ve adapted,* he thought. Compared to unknown sorrow and joy, their bodies were very well-adapted to pain.
Of course, it still hurt. Zhao Meiyou watched the blood flowing from Qian Duoduo’s body, his tears falling in torrents. Qian Duoduo took a breath, his face covered in beads of sweat, looking at him with a touch of helplessness. “Why are you still crying?”
“It’s the last time, anyway.” Zhao Meiyou wiped his face. “Brother Qian, you’re losing so much blood. Are you really okay?”
“I’m fine. Don't worry.”
It was hard to tell if there was more blood, tears, or sweat. All sorts of fluids mingled together. Blood flowed from the massive wound, the red gradually turning transparent. In a daze, Zhao Meiyou seemed to hear the sound of water—the flowing of a river.
Someone tugged at his sleeve. Zhao Meiyou turned his head. Qian Duoduo was standing beside him in his original form.
“The door is open.” Amidst the pure white light and shadows, he smiled at him. “Let’s go.”
Go, child of the mortal world.
Toward the wilderness and the river.
Zhao Meiyou also began to laugh. His soul returned to its place; he was no longer crying.
“Let’s go.”
***
