EM CH5

Chapter 5: Restoring Health

A short, small goat tail extended from Yu An’s tailbone, poking out fluffily past his waistband and wagging back and forth beyond his control, without him even seeming to realize it.

Zhao Ran fell silent, unable to keep from glancing behind Yu An with a contemplative look.

The countdown on the right side of the Core Storage Analyzer entered its final ten seconds, vibrating gently until the timer hit zero. The Aberrant Core embedded in Yu An’s left eye dimmed, its blue light extinguished.

The goat mimicry on Yu An’s body vanished with it.

The energy stored inside the Aberrant Core had been completely spent. So this was the meaning behind the “10-minute usage restriction” described in the Core Storage Analyzer. Low-grade Aberrant Cores were just like disposable dry cell batteries that got thrown out when drained: once used up, they were scrap.

It belonged to a type of biological energy source, while certain physically disabled humans served as vessels capable of holding the battery.

He squeezed the gray, turbid Aberrant Core out of his eye socket. His left eye was left as nothing more than a terrifying hole, the empty socket deep and cavernous, like a bottomless dry well.

Zhao Ran cradled that core in his palm, its inherent glimmer completely gone. This was also the first time he had seen a Vessel who could freely remove an Aberrant Core. He couldn’t snap out of it for a long while; the emotions swirling in his pale irises were a mixture of shock and ecstasy.

Once the core left his body, Yu An’s strength was suddenly drained away as well. Deprived of oxygen, his brain spun, his vision went black, and his consciousness blurred.

His eye socket burned hot. Keeping his eyes tightly shut, Yu An sought relief from the scorching, swollen sensation until he finally found a patch of coolness and pressed against it.

He tilted his head and leaned against Zhao Ran’s icy neck, like a red-hot iron plunged into water.

“…” With both his hands and sleeves covered in filthy blood, Zhao Ran had no choice but to awkwardly hold them suspended in the air, neither resting them on the floor nor daring to place them on Yu An.

As the burning sensation was soothed, Yu An let out a low sigh.

“What are you doing? Acting like you’ve got no spine. It’s just a Tier 1 Blue core. How could linking with it consume this much stamina? Hmph… college students really are delicate.” Zhao Ran looked composed as ever, yet his body gave an imperceptible shudder, a faint blush creeping up his snow-white neck.

“Interviewer, you look so young. Did you just graduate recently too?” Yu An kept his eyes closed and asked in a muffled voice.

“No. My line of work isn’t something taught in schools.”

“Interviewer, how old are you?” He had been curious about this for a while.

Zhao Ran grabbed the back of Yu An’s collar and yanked him back. Dangling him like a puppy, he scrutinized his face, curling his slender lips: “That’s a company secret. Sign the contract with me first before asking so much.”

Yu An half-squinted his right eye: “Your company is all fighting and killing; you can’t even guarantee personal safety. I think I’d better pass on applying.”

“Oh? The base salary upon regularization is 24,000, plus comprehensive benefits. The perks are fantastic. With your profile, you won’t find a company with better compensation than Underground Railway in Hongli City.” Releasing Yu An, Zhao Ran ticked off the company’s strengths, then flashed a friendly smile. “Think it over carefully. If there’s anywhere I’m falling short, feel free to point it out.”

A human Vessel who could freely install and remove Aberrant Cores would likely trigger a mad scramble between the other two hunting companies the second word got out. If a rival firm snatched him away, it would be a massive headache. He had to secure him quickly before the kid realized his own worth.

Zhao Ran suddenly convulsed. His wound, which hadn’t completely stopped bleeding in the first place, burst into a large spread of dark crimson. Blood thoroughly soaked his shirt fabric, dripping down from the hem.

Yu An circled around to Zhao Ran’s left side, lifted the hem of his shirt, and examined Zhao Ran’s lean waist and abdomen.

The wound was on the lower left abdomen, about five centimeters long. It looked like it had been caused by the deep plunge of a blade tip. It had recently been sutured, but tore open before it could heal.

Besides this, he had two similar old wounds on his body, but they had already healed. Combined with his fair complexion, the scars had faded to a very faint mark.

Zhao Ran’s breathing was slightly weaker than before. He quietly tilted his head back and kept still, long hair draping messily over his shoulders. The stretch of neck between his hair and the burgundy collar was pale and slender, the contrast between crimson and white strikingly vivid.

Yu An frowned. Biting the hem of his own clothes, he sliced off a strip of fabric, folded it, pressed it firmly against the ceaselessly bleeding wound, and told Zhao Ran to hold it himself.

Zhao Ran hissed as he drew in a sharp breath of cold air. When taking over the makeshift tourniquet, his fingertips inevitably brushed against Yu An’s.

“I’ll go find some supplies, Interviewer.” Yu An stood up and returned to the ruins in the corridor, leaving both the phone and the Core Storage Analyzer beside Zhao Ran.

Zhao Ran gritted his teeth and pressed hard on the wound. He rubbed the fingertips that had been lightly brushed, lowering his head as his hair veiled the excited rising and falling of his chest.

He caught the wrist buckle with the tips of his teeth to tighten it, desperately suppressing something on the verge of breaking through its shackles.

“How old am I?” he muttered to himself.

A few minutes later, Yu An returned carrying the backpack, which was stuffed with medical supplies scavenged from the wards and nurses’ station. Draped over his forearm was Zhao Ran’s trench coat.

Seeing the floor coated in a layer of extinguisher powder, his footsteps paused.

In a large fan-shaped area around Zhao Ran, the floor was densely covered with scribbled numbers ranging from one to eighty. The sequence was chaotic without any discernable pattern. Along with repeated ones, hundreds of numbers clustered together, all traced into the dust by a fingertip.

Yu An slowly withdrew his foot that was stepping on one of the numbers. This interviewer seemed a bit obsessive. Did he suffer from some kind of numerical obsessive-compulsive disorder?

Zhao Ran opened his eyes from a doze. Half-awake, his double eyelids appeared even deeper.

“Don’t move.” Yu An squatted beside him, unbuttoned his shirt, uncapped a bottle of hydrogen peroxide, and poured it directly over the wound. After rinsing away the blood, he pressed around the wound with his fingertips to gauge the extent of the tear. Fortunately, the stitches hadn’t been completely ripped apart.

“Hiss…” The sharp pain stung deep within the wound. Zhao Ran gritted his teeth and endured it. Once that wave passed, Yu An took out hemostatic bandages and wrapped them around Zhao Ran’s abdomen.

“Your hands are so cold.” Zhao Ran shivered. The inflammation from the wound made him feel chilly, yet the surface of his skin burned feverishly hot. A sickly flush seeped from beneath his skin, tinting the corners of his eyes and the tip of his nose with the same hue.

“I’m cold too.” Yu An lowered his eyelashes. His clothes were still damp, and in this freezing season, the old hospital’s outer walls did little more than block a bit of the wind.

Zhao Ran caught Yu An’s sleeve and placed both of his hands against his own chest, right against the scalding skin.

Yu An wanted to pull his hands back, but it truly was warm there, as if resting against a stove. He couldn’t resist warming his palms, then flipping them over to warm the backs of his hands.

As he warmed them, Yu An gradually zoned out, staring blankly at a certain spot. It seemed this was the first time he had ever seen such a color on a guy.

Pink. That tiny protrusion. Right between his fingers, if he just gently closed them together… He closed them!

“Doctor Yu.” Zhao Ran leaned weakly against the wall. “That’s enough. Don’t play with a patient’s body anymore.”

Yu An stiffly pulled his hands back: “You were the one who told me to put my hands there…”

“Ah, yes,” Zhao Ran revealed his sharp teeth. “I did tell you to. Very obedient.”

“.” Yu An lowered his head and yanked the bandage tight with considerable force, making Zhao Ran cry out in pain.

With the Aberrant eliminated, the medical staff and patients hiding in the second-floor clinic walked out trembling with fear. Seeing that the danger had truly passed, they wept in each other’s arms.

Zhao Ran led Yu An downstairs to make a patrol sweep, only relaxing after confirming no other Aberrants were lurking around. Meanwhile, Yu An quietly fiddled with the Core Storage Analyzer hanging at his waist.

Just moments ago, the interviewer had given this device to him, along with the two cores inside, one blue and one purple. He generously told him to take his time considering whether to join the company. Since Yu An had fought for these two cores himself, he rightfully got to keep them. Even if push came to shove, selling them on the market could cover an entire year’s rent.

Including Yu An’s depleted Tier 1 Blue Goat Horns, the Core Storage Analyzer held three cores in total. In terms of cash value, it sounded like it was worth thirty to forty thousand. Not bad at all. With this money, even if he couldn’t land a job right away, he wouldn’t end up having to feed on the northwest wind.

Besides, this Core Storage Analyzer was indeed intriguing. Yu An was very interested in its programming and wanted to find a place to study it thoroughly.

Walking behind him, Zhao Ran took in his cheerful mood while slowly fastening his shirt buttons.

A young nurse holding a child ran over in a hurry and bowed slightly to Zhao Ran: “Thank you for arriving in time. Fortunately, we had kept your number beforehand…”

Yu An lifted his eyelids. Judging by her voice, she was the girl who had called Zhao Ran’s phone for help earlier, except the one who answered her back then had been him.

Underneath her neat short hair, the nurse’s forehead was beaded with cold sweat. She carried a child belonging to who knew which patient, quite responsible indeed.

While they were talking, faint sirens echoed outside the window. The sound quickly gathered at the foot of the hospital building. Yu An leaned against the windowsill to look outside: police cars and ambulances surrounded the hospital in an impenetrable blockade, red and blue lights flashing alternately, with caution tape rapidly cordoning off the area below.

Three to five golden eagles circled in the sky, their prolonged shrieks piercing the heavens. Several officers were using walkie-talkies to communicate with colleagues entering the hospital.

They wore unified uniforms, all bearing machine-embroidered golden eagle emblems on their backs. Among them, a policewoman with a three-gold-ring armband was directing operations. Suddenly, she turned her head and looked directly toward the window where Yu An was standing.

The sharp woman wore a black face mask, her brows angled steeply upward. Her fierce and imposing countenance gave off an immense sense of oppression. Perched upon her shoulder, a golden mechanical eagle turned its head along with its owner’s gaze, flapping its brass-plated wings as its blood-red eyes flickered with electronic crimson light.

The Peeping Eagle Bureau. Yu An naturally associated her with this agency.

Zhao Ran heard the sirens and eagle cries as well. His expression abruptly turned unfriendly. Shoving both hands into his trench coat pockets, he scrutinized everyone inch by inch: “It seems there are clever people among you who know not to put all your eggs in one basket. You sought help from Underground Railway, and also called upon Peeping Eagle.”

He flicked up the nurse’s badge, read the name clearly, and said slowly, “Ms. Lin. If that’s the case, I have no choice but to strike your name from Underground Railway’s protection roster.”

Turning ashen, the nurse hurriedly set the child on the ground and waved her hands in panic: “No, no! I really only called you, please believe me!” Trembling, she pulled up her call logs and thrust the screen in front of Zhao Ran, her legs turning to jelly as she held up her phone like a convict awaiting sentencing.

Zhao Ran glanced back at the crowd, pulling his lips back to reveal a friendly set of sharp teeth: “Then who called the police?”

He stood there asking calmly without holding any weapon, yet he made everyone around him too terrified to even breathe, like an autumn cicada trembling before the northern gale.

People shook their heads and backed away one after another, rushing to clear themselves of any involvement.

Paying no heed to the strange looks around him, Yu An raised his hand: “Interviewer, I was the one who called the police.”

He had already rewrapped the bandages around his left eye socket, looking no different from an ordinary patient. Hearing his answer, the surrounding people wore terrified expressions and scrambled away from Yu An as if avoiding the plague.

Zhao Ran parted his lips, taking a long moment before squeezing out a sentence: “Very nice. Don’t call them next time.”