Chapter 84: Mushrooms
The night she learned about her parents.
The moon was bright, the stars sparse, the world so silent that not even the chirping of insects or the rustling of leaves could be heard. It was past one in the morning, nature and humanity asleep.
Akhe, her tentacles dancing, finished the last stitch of a spring sweater, eager to see how it would look on Xiang Er. If it looked good, she would make one for herself, a matching couple’s outfit.
Unfortunately… Akhe knew that Xiang Er always locked her door at night, and she was always careful not to let Xiang Er know about her nightly visits. Xiang Er was still awake, her mind filled with sadness and sorrow, she wouldn’t want to see her now.
Akhe’s own heart ached. It had been so long, on the surface, their days were filled with peaceful domesticity, but only she knew the pang of pain she felt every time she looked into Xiang Er’s eyes.
Xiang Er still hated her, that hadn’t changed. At most… the hatred had perhaps… subsided slightly.
Akhe still walked towards the door, her hand instinctively reaching for the doorknob, expecting it to be…
But with a click, the door creaked open.
Akhe froze, her tentacles still, staring into the room. The moonlight, filtering through the blue and white panes of the window, cast a soft glow on the floor, like a square pool, the open door’s shadow rippling across its surface.
Tonight… the door wasn’t locked?
Akhe’s heart, the artificial heart she had crafted, pounded in her chest. She cautiously extended a hand, its skin pale and smooth, into the moonlight, as if parting a curtain of mist, then… she spoke:
“Little Ears… why aren’t you asleep yet?”
Xiang Er didn’t answer.
But since the path was clear, Akhe entered the room, her gaze gentle and humble, looking towards the bed.
On the small bed, Xiang Er sat huddled, her head buried in her knees, her slender back arched, her black hair cascading down, obscuring her small form in the shadows.
She was motionless, like a small, sad stone.
Akhe clutched her chest, a sharp pang of pain, a shared sorrow, a feeling… she couldn’t quite comprehend, but it hurt, so much.
Akhe had noticed that as their connection deepened, she could almost feel everything Xiang Er felt, and as a result, Xiang Er was no longer susceptible to her mental influence, having developed a resistance to the Evil God’s power.
Akhe took a few steps closer, the pain almost overwhelming, forcing her to lean against the wall for support. It was different from the sharp, intense pain of Xiang Er’s self-harm, a dull ache in her chest, a persistent, lingering sorrow, not acute, yet relentless, not fatal, yet agonizing.
Akhe reached the bed and whispered:
“Little Ears… don’t hold back, you can… do whatever you want.”
She knew Xiang Er’s pain stemmed from learning about her parents, but Xiang Er’s thoughts weren’t focused on her parents themselves, it was a chaotic jumble of sorrow and self-loathing.
Akhe pursed her lips, hesitated, then composed herself, climbed onto the bed, and crawled towards Xiang Er.
Xiang Er remained huddled, as if completely withdrawn, her emotions and thoughts buried deep within.
Even with Akhe so close, she didn’t lift her head, her fingers, clutching the hem of her pants, didn’t move, as if completely unresponsive to the outside world.
She had built a cocoon around herself, her soul trapped within, no longer willing to emerge. Because she now knew her origins, all her comforting illusions shattered, her humble wishes impossible, she knew she was just a useless moth, even if it broke free from its cocoon, it wouldn’t grow the beautiful wings of love.
She knew, finally and irrevocably, that she was unwanted, a mistake, a source of shame. She had never been a treasured pearl, had never known true love, she was trapped, unable to live, unable to die.
Like a lone ship, lost at sea.
She hated herself, and she hated this world.
And she was… completely powerless.
A warm touch, gentle and cautious, soft and delicate, caressed the back of her hand. Whose hand it was, Xiang Er knew, of course, but she couldn’t bring herself to care.
She didn’t want to care.
The hand opened, gently grasping hers, slowly unfurling her tightly clenched fingers, one by one.
The touch was gentle, careful, not forceful, yet… warm and firm.
As her fingers were unfurled, Xiang Er heard a soft sigh, Akhe’s anxious breath.
Akhe’s voice, soft and hoarse, whispered:
“Little Ears…”
She sighed, the endearment, the nickname that Xiang Er couldn’t help but resent, yet also… a small comfort.
The warm, gentle hand closed around Xiang Er’s.
Their fingers intertwined.
Xiang Er’s hand, limp and unresponsive, like a tool, offered no resistance.
She knew the Evil God’s desire, she vaguely sensed what was coming, but she didn’t care anymore.
She was useless, a discarded scrap, a piece of trash no one would even notice if it were crushed and thrown away, why should she care about her body, her feelings?
But… a long time passed, and nothing happened.
The sweet fragrance filled the room.
Akhe’s soft breathing remained close.
The shadows of the tentacles swayed in the moonlight.
But… nothing happened.
Akhe held her hand, but their bodies remained separate, no forceful embrace.
Ten minutes passed, then twenty, then thirty.
Akhe sat beside her, motionless, not even their intertwined fingers moving.
Xiang Er’s palm was damp with sweat.
The chaotic thoughts in her mind gradually subsided, and she became aware of her body. The dampness of her palm, the ache in her legs and neck, the darkness behind her closed eyelids.
She finally moved slightly.
She remembered an old story:
A mental patient would squat in the corner of her room every day, unresponsive to anyone, until one day, a new doctor came, and squatted beside her, silently.
The patient, unable to bear the silence, finally spoke, her first words since being admitted:
“Are… are you a mushroom too?”
A faint smile touched Xiang Er’s lips.
Akhe seemed to stir beside her, a soft chuckle:
“Heh…”
Then, Akhe’s voice, low and husky, echoed in the moonlit darkness:
“Yes. I’m a mushroom too.”
The words broke the silence of the night, even the pool of moonlight on the floor seemed to tremble, and Xiang Er finally lifted her head slightly, turning to look.
Akhe sat beside her on the bed, her posture mirroring Xiang Er’s, her head resting on her knees, one hand clutching her ankle, the other intertwined with Xiang Er’s.
It was late, the moon had shifted, and a sliver of moonlight fell on Akhe’s face, her dark eyes, like a still lake, turning towards Xiang Er.
A quiet affection welled up within them.
Xiang Er froze, then quickly turned away, her body trembling slightly, as if seeking shelter from a sudden downpour of love.
A rustling sound, Akhe moving, Xiang Er’s trembling intensifying, her heart pounding.
A hand, pale and luminous in the moonlight, suddenly appeared, making Xiang Er gasp.
She looked closely.
The hand held two small, round, white mushrooms.
Like large oyster mushrooms, their stems plump and white, their caps wide and snowy, they looked almost comically cute, beautiful in the moonlight.
Akhe’s voice was soft:
“This one is you, and this one is me. You’re not unwanted… you’re my little mushroom.”
Xiang Er stared at the two mushrooms.
And Akhe, in the moonlight, her human eyes gentle and patient, her hand still holding Xiang Er’s, waited.
She held the mushrooms aloft, as if willing to wait for an eternity, her hand steady.
Fortunately, Xiang Er didn’t make her wait that long.
Xiang Er reached out with her other hand, took one of the mushrooms, and held it to her nose, inhaling its scent.
It was, after all, conjured by Akhe, and it carried Akhe’s strong, sweet fragrance, and Xiang Er, after a few sniffs, coughed, as if the scent were too strong:
“Cough, cough, cough!! Mm… cough!”
Her coughing fit doubled her over, but she carefully avoided crushing the mushroom, placing it on her pillow. Her body trembled with the force of her coughs, her hair falling across her face, obscuring it completely.
Akhe, concerned, leaned closer, listening to the wracking coughs, her hand gently patting Xiang Er’s back:
“Are you alright?”
Xiang Er’s coughing subsided, but her body still trembled.
Akhe gently brushed the hair away from Xiang Er’s face and saw… that she was crying.
Her eyes were open, tears streaming down her face uncontrollably, soaking the pillow, her cheeks flushed from the coughing and crying, her breath coming in ragged gasps.
She looked… so pitiful, and so lovely.
The sweet fragrance intensified, a sigh from behind her, the rustling of clothes against the sheets.
Akhe gently lay down beside her, mirroring Xiang Er’s posture, her legs curled up.
Like a large spoon, she gently, carefully, wrapped her arms around Xiang Er’s small, huddled form.
One hand cradled the back of Xiang Er’s head, like a pillow, catching her tears.
The other arm wrapped around her waist, a gentle, comforting embrace.
Xiang Er continued to cry.
And all her tears fell into the hands… of a Evil God.
She closed her eyes, unwilling to face this reality, but she didn’t pull away.
Akhe’s warmth enveloped her, her hand gently caressing her back, her voice, soft and alluring, whispering in her ear:
“There, there… cry… let it all out… it’s okay… you’re… you… you don’t need anything else… you’re precious… my precious…”
The words were meaningless, nonsensical, but Xiang Er’s tears gradually subsided.
Soon, she fell asleep.
And she didn’t dream of her parents.
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