Chapter 15

Chapter 15: Snuggling Up with the Digestive System

Incense smoke thickened the bustling temple. A young man pressed his palms together before the monk and asked devoutly, "Master, my neck's been heavy lately, my shoulders won't lift. Do you think there's something unclean sitting on them?"

The master pulled out an anatomical chart of the upper body.

“No. What you’ve got is upper crossed syndrome from hammering the keyboard and hunching with your shoulders rolled in. Go home and do some chest-opening exercises.”

Young man: “Master, I keep feeling an eerie draft up my spine, this constant chill. Could there be something unclean sneaking around back-to-back with me?”

The master pulled out a half-body anatomical chart.

“No. It’s lumbar muscle strain from years of bad posture and no exercise. Go home and strengthen your core and lower-back muscles.”

Young man: “Master, actually I also…”

The master couldn’t take it anymore and pulled up a surveillance feed: the young man at work, curled like a shrimp in front of his computer.

The master, beside himself: “Look at you—you’re practically a full-on shrimp demon. How could your back and waist not ache?

The young man cracked too: “Master, it’s not that I don’t want to take care of myself! But work is insane—once I start, it’s like my ass gets nailed to the chair. Where’s the time to mind my posture?”

At that, the master produced an ergonomic chair and, in the sing-song cadence of chanting sutras, began to expound its features and virtues…

Lin Jianyuan banged out the KV at top speed. Pei Shuo was floored. “Bro, how did you even think of this! You actually tied an ergonomic chair to incense offerings!”

Lin Jianyuan: “It’s still a bit of a stretch, honestly. Whatever—send it to the client, see if we can bluff it through.”

A lightbulb went off for Pei Shuo: “What if we add a twist? The kid goes back to the office and there’s a chill wind—full horror-movie vibes. But it’s not ghosts; it’s the pent-up grudge-energy of wage slaves. And our ergonomic chair has been consecrated at a temple, so once he buys it he can ignore the seniors’ miasma and go to work in peace!”

Lin Jianyuan stared at him. “You’re seeing ghosts and you still want to go to work? You love work that much—trying to die?”

Pei Shuo: “Hahahaha.”

His big golden-retriever eyes sparkled; paired with that invincible, boyish face, he might as well have been starring in a workplace rom-com.

And Lin Jianyuan was the senior with the dark circles, there to embody the bleary wage-slave vibe.

Then again, Lin Jianyuan’s dark circles had actually lightened a lot lately…

Ever since Eye Vines got transplanted into his mug of goji-berry, chrysanthemum, and cassia-seed tea, Lin Jianyuan’s eyesight had gotten much better—no eye strain no matter how long he stared at the screen.

He half suspected the thing soaking in that wellness brew wasn’t the Eye Vines at all, but himself.

How could it be this good for the eyes.

The ancestors’ wisdom really does hold up.

For now, they’d managed to placate the ergonomic-chair client. Lin Jianyuan clocked out, mission accomplished.

It was July; he could feel the swelter before he even stepped out of the building.

He tugged his tie loose and, under the blazing sun, headed for the subway.

Without noticing, Pei Shuo had already been interning a month. Lin Jianyuan thought he was doing well—quick on the uptake; being turned into a full-time employee after the three-month probation would be no problem.

It was rush hour, the sun searing the air until it turned hot and sticky.

The AC blasted at the subway entrance, and Lin Jianyuan felt instantly revived.

Lin Jianyuan used to hate summer most of all, because the subway in summer was torture.

On a normal commute it was a sardine can; in summer it turned into a herring tin.

The car reeked—sweat, BO, feet—and the stench was hot and heavy, like spinning a turd in a microwave.

No matter how hard they cranked the AC, with this many people, one breath each and the cool got sucked dry.

Every time he crammed into the subway, Lin Jianyuan’s shirt and slacks were soaked and tacky, hair and clothes hot and plastered to his skin—conducting the strangers’ body heat all the more clearly.

Brutal.

Good thing he had a squish toy now.

Squelch.

The two-hour commute was over in a blink.

“Your happiness is built on my suffering…” the squish toy sobbed, gulping down and spitting back the hours.

He ignored the little stress toy’s complaints, got home in good spirits, and headed straight for a shower.

Beforehand he’d turned on the AC in his room; when he came out, it was still stifling.

Frowning, he picked up the remote and studied it, then dragged over a stool and climbed up to feel the vent.

Not a breath of air.

He called the landlord. “It’s late. Where am I supposed to find someone to fix it? We’ll deal with it tomorrow.”

“Then I’ll find someone myself. I’ll send you the bill and you can reimburse me.”

“If you find someone, of course you’re the one who pays.”

Suspecting the landlord was afraid of a padded bill, he said, “Then I’ll have the technician quote you directly. You can negotiate the price yourself.”

The landlord bristled. “Why should I be the one haggling? And you’re bothering me at this hour—look at the time. You young people have no sense of propriety. So the AC won’t turn on—use a fan. It’s one night, what’s the big deal? So pampered, can’t take the slightest hardship. We’ll talk tomorrow!”

He hung up.

Lin Jianyuan stood there gripping his phone, anger surging up his neck in waves. He wanted to drag the landlord over right now and cram a lump of shit, fresh from a spin in the microwave, into his mouth.

The clean clothes he’d just changed into were already soaked again. He couldn’t help knocking on his roommate’s door to ask if he could crash there for the night.

He knocked and knocked; the door stayed shut.

Roommate wasn’t home. Probably had a night class.

He stood at the door, head swimming from the heat, tempted to act first and apologize later—just go in and use the AC.

His hand was already on the knob when he thought better of it and let go.

Forget it. You don’t just walk into someone else’s room, not when you’re not even close.

If something went missing, he’d never be able to explain.

So he took another cold shower, opened the fridge for a can of Coke—and spotted a huge bunch of summer black grapes.

Inky-black and glossy, each one big, round, and full, giving off a heady grape perfume.

They were from Qin Shi.

At noon he’d helped Qin Shi wrap up a long-cycle analysis, and before clocking out Qin Shi had made a special run to the fruit shop to pick out two hefty bunches.

One for him, one for Pei Shuo, a thank-you.

Handpicked beat anything delivered. Every grape was firm and plump; the bunch hung heavy in the hand, fresh as can be.

He’d put them in the fridge the moment he got home; by now they were nicely chilled.

He took them out, peeled a few: the flesh was icy cool. One bite and juice burst everywhere, the rich aroma exploding in his mouth, cooling his throat and stomach in an instant.

He couldn’t help himself—crouched in front of the fridge, he popped grape after grape.

His mood brightened.

Pei Shuo once said that if he ever left, he’d hate to part with these older brother- and sister-figures. Truth be told, so would Lin Jianyuan.

The boss may be a dumbass, but closing ranks to roast him together is still pretty damn fun.

Switch firms and you might not get an office vibe this good.

And if you land somewhere full of dumbasses, that’s even worse.

For no reason he thought of Pei Shuo’s line—“our ergonomic chair’s been blessed”—and the corner of Lin Jianyuan’s mouth quirked. That kid, he thought, is a real talent.

Eating grapes with the fridge door open was cool enough, sure, but the power bill got split with his roommate. Not exactly decent.

In the end, Lin Jianyuan straightened up from the open fridge.

He thought a second, scribbled a note and stuck it on the fridge door—Help yourself to the grapes in the fridge—then brushed his teeth, washed up, and went back to his room to sleep.

Past midnight. A notch cooler than the day.

Still hot.

The fan was cranked to max, oscillating with a steady whoosh.

The bedroom window was flung wide too, yet not a breath of wind all night—as if even the faintest stir of air got stopped dead by the window screen.

In the dark, Lin Jianyuan kicked off the covers, arms and legs splayed, a faint furrow between his brows. He slept fitfully.

Right on cue, a flesh-pink shadow arrived.

Squishy thief ducked behind the pillow, pretending not to see a thing.

Ah-woo. The digestive system clamped down on the giant lollipop. The corners of its mouth flew up in a wild grin.

“Clock in for a day and you do get tastier…” it mumbled around its mouthful; even the appendix curled up with joy.

Squish toy: “…”

It didn’t dare speak, so it just called him a dumbass in its head.

Tonight Lin Jianyuan wasn’t in pajamas—just a baggy tank on top and shorts below.

Long-limbed, he lay spread-eagled across the bed.

His whole head vanished into the digestive system’s mouth; the body from the neck down squirmed in discomfort, then rolled over.

His head did a little turn inside its mouth.

“Mm.” The digestive system hastily retracted its teeth, lest those tiny sharp points nick his throat.

His tank had ridden up a touch, baring a slice of waist.

Gulp, gulp.

It swallowed slowly, blissfully, gulping down what to it was a supreme delicacy.

The esophagus rippled like a snake that had swallowed a mouse; liver, gallbladder, and pancreas rose and fell as if breathing.

With Lin Jianyuan’s head in its mouth, the digestive system sucked and slurped.

Only after it had eaten every last scrumptious scrap of negative emotion did it, reluctant, spit the head back out and let loose a rainbow burp.

Wet.

Lin Jianyuan’s forehead, lids, lashes, the bridge of his nose—all wet and gleaming, slick with its saliva. His hair clung damp to his brow.

He’d been eaten to the limit, yet his eyes stayed shut, sunk in a sleep he couldn’t surface from.

The digestive system “looked” at that wet face, and its appetite surged again.

Though there was nothing left to suck out, it still went ah-woo once more and took Lin Jianyuan’s head back into its mouth.

Its tongue slowly licked the nape of his neck; the duodenum tied itself into a merry bow.

It sucked and slurped as if working on a lollipop that would never melt.

Squish toy: “…”

Quit sucking already, will you!

You’re about to slurp his brains out!

“Mm…” As he slept, Lin Jianyuan suddenly stirred again.

With practiced ease, the digestive system retracted its teeth.

He rolled over again; one long leg swung across, his straight, slender shin pinning the thin summer comforter.

As if sensing something in his sleep, he let out an uneasy hum from his throat.

Then he shoved the blanket off with his leg.

Only after slurping to its heart’s content and coming back to its senses did the digestive system realize Lin Jianyuan had both arms and legs wrapped around him.

The human body was faintly sweat-damp, its breathing hot and deep.

Lin Jianyuan had his arms around its stomach, liver, gallbladder, and pancreas, and his thigh pressed down on its duodenum, jejunum, ileum, and cecum.

He even hooked its colon and rectum closer with his heel.

Then he let out a long, contented sigh.

Digestive system: ?

The digestive system “glanced” at the air conditioner on the wall.

No wonder it slept so fitfully tonight.

The following morning.

Lin Jianyuan woke feeling utterly refreshed.

“It was actually pretty cool last night.” Lin Jianyuan yawned, pleased.

Squish toy: “…”

Xie Yu left a minute ago—of course it’s cool!

This human spent the whole night hugging a heap of offal—aaah!

We’re doomed, we’re doomed—no wonder Xie Yu’s taken a shine to him!

How is this human even more twisted than me—an Aberrant!!!