After a torrential downpour, the Jianhua Second-Hand Goods and Consignment Market looked as though it had been given a thin coat of clear varnish.
Water dripped from the slanted asbestos-tile sheds, intermittently gathering into the puddles on the concrete floor. A damp, decaying odor floated in the air, occasionally mingled with the scent of old wood and patina.
This cold, damp weather was nothing short of comfortable for Song Rong. He pulled back his gaze, which had been drifting out the window, stretched, and loosened his muscles.
This tiny movement could not escape the eyes of Fan Shen, the cafeteria supervisor.
He flicked his chin toward Song Rong and ordered, “Don’t slack off! Take advantage of the fact that there aren’t many people eating yet, and go help in the back kitchen!”
The newly appointed handyman who had been called out did not dare to dawdle. He trotted forward, failing to watch his path properly, and nearly collided with his colleague Xiang Xun, who was carrying a basin of food portions toward the serving window. “Whoa, watch out!”
Running, Song Rong pressed his palms together and made an apologetic gesture.
He had a special task in the back kitchen.
Removing his heat-insulating gloves, Song Rong washed his hands meticulously and was immediately dragged by Head Chef Lao Ou toward the steaming iron pot. “Come on, adjust the seasoning.”
Inside the pot was today’s portion of yam and pork rib soup.
The ingredients used top-quality black-pig spareribs, and the portion was generous.
Song Rong extended both hands over the soup pot, skillfully rubbing his index fingers and thumbs together directly above it. The next second, powder emitting a faint, golden-yellow micro-light drifted quietly from his fingertips, silently melting into the boiling soup water.
A rich, savory aroma instantly filled the air.
Lao Ou nodded repeatedly as he watched. “Director Zhou really has exceptional insight! Hiring a matsutake spirit into the cafeteria—just think about how much chicken bouillon, MSG, and mushroom freshness enhancer this saves the Special Management Bureau cafeteria every year!”
Song Rong: “Fine.”
This was his core competitiveness in the Special Management Bureau.
The Special Management Bureau, full name Special Species Management Bureau, was a secondary unit subordinate to the Huai’an Civil Affairs Bureau. It was mainly responsible for managing the behavioral norms and identity cover of abnormal life forms in modern society, occasionally joining other departments to mediate disputes and handle crises.
Although existence justified reasonableness, human beings had remained deeply secretive about the existence of special species for thousands of years. The various departments of the Special Management Bureau did not find it appropriate to act in a high-profile manner, so they simply set their work address in the Jianhua Second-Hand Goods and Consignment Market in the southern part of Huai’an City. Firstly, this place was remote, quiet, and sparsely populated. Secondly, even if a working special species accidentally revealed its true form, it could use the flower pots, earthenware jars, furniture, and electrical appliances left scattered in the yard as cover.
When he first learned of the existence of this mysterious unit, Song Rong was extremely shocked.
What shocked him even more was that the mysterious department was actually willing to hire a small monster like him who could hardly shoulder heavy responsibilities.
In fact, before coming to Huai’an City, Song Rong had tried human lifestyles more than once, but every time he encountered all kinds of problems, and in the end, he had to flee back to the deep mountains and continue being a shrinking mushroom.
If Director Zhou hadn’t stepped forward to arrange a job for him this time, given his current education level and physical fitness, it would have been very difficult for him to survive decently in modern society.
Amidst his random thoughts, Xiang Xun’s flattery rang in his ear. “Xiao Rong is a genuine matsutake; how can he be compared to chicken bouillon, MSG, or mushroom freshness enhancer?”
Another colleague, Zhang Xiaojiao, poked her head over to expose him. “Wait a minute, isn’t the mushroom freshness enhancer just matsutake powder?”
“How can that be the same?” Having clearly done her homework, Xiang Xun raised his voice a few decibels higher. “The matsutake powder sold in supermarkets is mixed with mushroom powder and flavor enhancers. Real good matsutake cannot be artificially cultivated and relies entirely on wild harvesting; it’s a high-end ingredient that is very hard to come by!”
Listening to Xiang Xun’s deliberately dragged-out tone, Zhang Xiaojiao muttered, “No wonder,” and then took deep sniffs at the matsutake spirit who was still busy seasoning other dishes. “When should we talk to Director Zhou and let our cafeteria run a live-streaming sales session? Just pin Song Rong to the little yellow cart, and it’s bound to sell out!”
Several people around burst into laughter.
Especially Xiang Xun, who laughed while staring straight at the high-end ingredient.
Song Rong chuckled along.
He was naturally fair and delicate, with very light eyelashes and hair color. Coupled with his chronic deficiency of vital energy and blood, the skin on his cheekbones stretched almost transparently when the corners of his mouth lifted, making the smile look as though it had been borrowed from elsewhere, floating vaguely on his face and dissipating before reaching the corners of his eyes.
In human vocabulary, it would be described as having a sense of shattered fragility.
Those very words had been said by Zhang Xiaojiao.
Song Rong stared at his own fingertips, pondering: Shattered, huh?
Already shattered into fine powder.
Lao Ou glanced at the electronic clock, raised a hand to wave in front of Xiang Xun’s eyes, and said in a tone of seeing right through everything. “Stop looking, go get to work.”
Then, he lowered his voice to remind him. “He already has a partner.”
The young man whose intentions had been exposed hurriedly pulled back his gaze. “R-Really?”
Lao Ou shrugged. “When chatting with Song Rong the other day, I heard him mention it once.”
Seeing the visible downturn in the corners of Xiang Xun’s mouth, Lao Ou changed the subject. “However, the two of them seem to have had a falling out. He said they hadn’t seen each other for quite a long time, and even Song Rong himself doesn’t know where the other person is. Since I could see he didn’t want to talk about it much, I didn’t press further. You might still have a chance.”
Long-lived species whose appearances do not age, such as monsters, constantly had to move around if they wanted to coexist with humans. They had to change one ID card after another, learn one handicraft skill after another, and wave goodbye to one batch of old friends after another. Even if they were inseparable lovers today, they could still become lost in a sea of humanity tomorrow.
Mortals could not afford to wait, and fellow species walked different paths.
Upon hearing such gossip, Xiang Xun first cast a sympathetic glance toward Song Rong, then babbled to Lao Ou that he harbored no such thoughts, and fled the back kitchen as if escaping.
Leaving the head chef shaking his head and sighing in place. “Director Zhou is also too kind-hearted, always picking up little pitiful strays.”
The working hours at the Special Management Bureau were said to be nine-to-five, but matters related to monsters were intricate, extremely tricky to handle, and accompanied by many emergencies. Therefore, the cafeteria prepared dinner for employees who worked overtime.
Having been on the job for half a month, Song Rong had figured out some patterns: for instance, when it rained today, more colleagues would stay behind, the dinner portion would need to be increased, and off-duty hours would be even later.
At eight in the evening, he finished the back kitchen’s cleaning work and safety check as usual, came to the locker room to retrieve his umbrella, and was just planning to turn off the lights and leave when Xiang Xun, following closely behind, shoved a takeout box into his hands. “There’s quite a bit of Spanish mackerel dumplings left over from today. Lao Ou told us to take them back to the dorms for a late-night snack.”
The head chef was responsible for tallying the surplus ingredients each day. Lao Ou disliked waste, so he would let his monster subordinates take away the unfinished food.
Song Rong had not yet fully adapted to collective life and was always very restrained when eating staff meals. Having busied himself all day, he had long felt hungry. Hearing that there were Spanish mackerel dumplings for a midnight snack, his eyes lit up instantly, though he hesitated a moment later. “Won’t they be cold by the time I get them back to the dorm?”
He regretted saying it the moment the words left his mouth.
Although humans had a saying that dumplings should be eaten piping hot, in reality, eating cold dumplings occasionally didn’t matter, as filling one’s stomach was what mattered most.
He remembered when he first learned how to take human form, not knowing that monsters still needed to eat grains to maintain their human shapes, his stomach would rumble, and he would desperately drink mountain spring water, well water, rain, or even dew. In the end, he starved until he passed out by the roadside, nearly being abducted by a gang of thieves and sold to a pleasure quarter.
Forget it.
The feudal dregs of three thousand years ago were not worth mentioning.
Xiang Xun waved a hand, cutting off Song Rong’s memories. “How could I possibly let you eat them cold? I’ll just go borrow some fire from the Rice-Warming Bodhisattva upstairs as soon as we get back.”
The staff dormitory strictly prohibited high-power electrical appliances, and open flames were even more strictly forbidden. However, that couldn’t stop the employees themselves from generating open flames: the top floor of the dormitory housed a piece of white phosphor mineral that had gained sentience, burning itself at any time and place to warm its colleagues, thus affectionately earning the title Rice-Warming Bodhisattva.
Song Rong nodded. “Thank you.”
This reaction actually made Xiang Xun feel a bit embarrassed. “We’re all colleagues, what are you being so polite with me for!”
Beneath the dim streetlights, the two walked along the path of the second-hand market toward the staff dormitory. The wind carrying the earthy, fishy scent after the rain blew past the piles of old furniture, wrapping around a damp, woody odor.
Weighing his words, Xiang Xun finally managed to squeeze out a complete sentence. “I accidentally heard Lao Ou say today that you already have a partner?”
Song Rong let out an affirmative sound. “I haven’t had a chance to tell you guys yet.”
Xiang Xun grabbed a handful of brownish-coffee-colored hair and continued the topic. “Oh, so what kind of person is your partner? Well, since you’ve been together for a very, very long time, he probably isn’t human, right? Cough, I’m just a little curious. If you don’t mind, tell me about him?”
When his lover was mentioned, Song Rong subconsciously tightened his grip on the umbrella in his hand. Not only his breathing and gaze, but even his tone of voice suddenly changed from usual. “Him? His name is Gu Xuanlang, and he’s about the same age as me—ah, I mean his age in human form. There’s nothing else much to say; I haven’t seen him for a very long time. Anyway, he’s just a monster with a weird personality, a very bad temper, and an unpredictable disposition.”
After a pause, he added in a small voice. “Even though he looks very handsome…”
Before he could finish speaking, he rushed to negate it. “No matter how good-looking he is, he’s still just a stinky rock!”
Resentment.
Noticing the deep resentment hidden beneath his roommate’s feigned disdainful expression, Xiang Xun hurriedly changed the subject. “Then does he know you joined the Special Management Bureau? Why hasn’t he come to see you?”
Song Rong was stumped by the question. “Uh…”
The situation was a bit complicated.
Before he had time to explain the reason, Xiang Xun violently grabbed his arm, pulling him into the shadow of a building. “It’s the Surveillance Division’s Operations Group car! Hurry, go, go!”
The Surveillance Division was the most unapproachable department in the entire Special Management Bureau, and the Operations Group was downright deadly. They specialized in executing high-risk special species registration, monitoring, and other tasks, and would forcibly contain them when necessary.
To avoid disturbing the unit’s daytime operational order, members of the Operations Group generally chose to go out at night to execute capture missions, just like today.
Song Rong timidly glanced over. The specially made transport vehicle was pitch-black, parked steadily in the isolation area outside the interrogation room. Two Operations Group colleagues invited a special species wearing a white straitjacket out of the rear cabin. Once the car’s engine was cut, two more members from the front followed closely behind from the rear, forming a tight perimeter around him.
Although the fellow in the middle of the encirclement was wrapped entirely in a white straitjacket with only the upper half of his face exposed, one could still tell from his physical outline that he was a tall and well-proportioned young man. Black binding straps wrapped from his shoulder blades down to his ankles, tied so tightly that he could only slowly move his legs and walk in small steps.
Taking advantage of the faint light of the streetlamp, Song Rong saw clearly the pair of exposed eyes: the iris color was extremely deep, resembling black jade in a freezing winter pool.
Three thousand years had passed, and yet these eyes had not changed at all.
Only, at this moment, dark circles hung beneath the man’s eyes, adding a touch of exhaustion.
Song Rong found himself suddenly short of breath, stopping in his tracks and refusing to move. “That person…”
Xiang Xun pushed him deeper into the shadows, using his own body to block the vigilant gazes of the escort personnel as he whispered by way of explanation. “Since you just arrived, you might not know yet. Those wearing straitjackets are all special species with danger levels above S-class, and they might not be able to integrate into human society like us. Stop looking, let’s go.”
Recalling his own evaluation report where his danger level was D-class, Song Rong nodded convincedly. “But—”
Seeing his roommate’s gaze still nailed to that receding, ghostly white figure, Xiang Xun urged him to leave again. “There’s no but about it, don’t go looking for trouble!”
Rumble.
Thunder rolled from afar, dull and muffled. The light-gray clouds had no idea when they had re-gathered overhead. The piles of plastic sheeting, rusted electrical appliances, and crisscrossed wooden boards beside them flickered on and off in the lightning, their outlines blurred, resembling a pack of monsters lying dormant for a long time.
It was going to rain again.
Clutching the long-handled black umbrella tightly in his hand, Song Rong took a deep breath and insisted on finishing the interrupted sentence. “However, the fellow the Operations Group just brought back seems to be Gu Xuanlang.”