WPCID 4: Particularly Likable
by cloudiesShen Zhou was utterly dazed by the litany of dessert names.
After a moment, he said coldly, “None of that. Eat it or don’t.”
Lu Buzhuo let out a disappointed “oh,” swayed, and collapsed into the blankets, silent as if he’d fainted.
Shen Zhou: “?!?!”
It took him a good half-moment to snap out of it and check if the Lu guy was dead or alive. As he approached the bed, a hand shot out from the blankets, brushing his ear. The hand was unnaturally hot, and since wolf ears were cooler than a human’s, one of them immediately drooped under the touch.
Shen Zhou froze again, then flared up. “Lu Buzhuo!”
“Here,” Lu Buzhuo replied, peeling back the blanket to reveal his face. “Not deaf. Don’t shout so loud—my head hurts.” He squinted slightly, looking genuinely uncomfortable.
Shen Zhou: “…”
His temper fizzled out. This Lu guy was clearly taking advantage of his frail state, acting without restraint. Shen Zhou could only mentally tally up the offenses for later.
Lu Buzhuo, unaware that touching the ear had added several counts to his crimes, was feverish and achy. Neither lying nor sitting felt comfortable, and sleep wouldn’t come. With nothing better to do, he tried to distract himself with conversation.
“Why’s there a chunk missing from your ear?”
At that, Shen Zhou’s angry, crystal-clear black eyes flickered slightly. After a quiet moment, he looked up, his earlier agitation gone, replaced by a deep, still gaze, like an ancient well—calm but chillingly cold.
“You said it was an eyesore, so you broke it. It bled a lot and never healed properly.”
Lu Buzhuo was stunned.
The boy before him had narrow shoulders and wore thin, tattered robes that hung like rags, revealing wrists covered in old, overlapping scars from years past. Lu Buzhuo’s heart felt as if it had been squeezed—not hard, but enough to stir an unexplainable pang of guilt and sorrow.
After a long silence, he reached out and tugged at the sleeve dangling by the bed.
The sleeve’s owner snapped fiercely, “What?!”
“Not an eyesore,” Lu Buzhuo said. “It’s nice. Particularly likable.”
His tone was flat but carried an inexplicable conviction, as if declaring it likable made it so.
Shen Zhou wasn’t buying it. But his ears twitched wildly on his head, practically flapping. He heard Lu Buzhuo chuckling intermittently between coughs, laughing at who-knows-what. Annoyed, Shen Zhou thought this guy was irritating—irritating then, even more irritating now.
He grabbed the pill Lu hadn’t taken yesterday and cut in, “Eat this.”
Lu Buzhuo didn’t ask what it was, obediently swallowing it with a docile air. After finishing, he looked at Shen Zhou, as if waiting for the next instruction.
Shen Zhou’s mood improved slightly, thinking Lu wasn’t entirely clueless. “Stay here. I’m going down the mountain to buy some food.”
Lu Buzhuo raised an eyebrow. “For me?”
“Dream on,” Shen Zhou shot back, face darkening. “I haven’t reached inedia. I need to eat.”
Lu Buzhuo glanced at the unappetizing stale bun, seeming to understand. He touched his index finger, then paused.
Shen Zhou, about to leave, turned back. “What’re you looking for?”
“Storage ring,” Lu Buzhuo said.
Shen Zhou pulled the ring from his belongings and offered it.
Lu Buzhuo didn’t take it, lazily sinking back into the blankets. “You keep it. Buy plenty of food and get a couple of warm outfits. Don’t skimp.”
“You’ve lost your memory, yet you know there’s money in the ring?”
“…Common knowledge.”
“You also know about the life-binding curse,” Shen Zhou pointed out. “Liar.”
“That’s common knowledge too.”
Convinced Lu was a fraud, Shen Zhou didn’t bother arguing further, pocketed the ring, and headed down the mountain.
The town’s morning market was bustling, the steam from pastry shops melting away the lingering chill of the night, creating a comforting warmth. Shen Zhou crouched in an alley, put on a bamboo hat, and pulled it low to hide his wolf ears before heading out to shop.
“Osmanthus cake, white sugar cake, red bean cake, dragon’s beard candy, lotus crisp, peach blossom crisp,” he recited stiffly. “All of them. I have money.”
He quickly bought five days’ worth of rations. On his way back, he passed a clothing shop, paused, and stepped inside. When he emerged, he looked much the same—still clad in dark, drab clothes, but the eyes beneath the hat brim sparkled.
By the time he returned to the bamboo grove, it was nearly noon. From a distance, he spotted a pile of snow on the stone steps. Wondering when it had snowed, he saw a pale hand emerge, curling into a fist as its owner coughed weakly against it.
…
Oh.
Shen Zhou passed by without a glance.
The snow pile stirred, calling, “Shen Zhou.”
He kept walking.
“…Shen Zhou.” The voice grew slightly louder, still weak, laced with coughs, as if not helping him up was some heinous crime.
Shen Zhou couldn’t keep walking.
He stopped, turned, and reluctantly descended two steps. Grabbing the white sable cloak, he yanked hard.
Lu Buzhuo, who’d been about to get up, stumbled forward from the pull, collapsing onto Shen Zhou’s shoulder.
So he responds to force, not kindness, Lu Buzhuo noted.
His cheek itched from something brushing it. Tilting his head, he saw those ever-busy ears, always moving for no apparent reason. After a moment, he tested, “Shen Zhou.”
The wolf ears perked up straight at the sound of his name.
Lu Buzhuo, catching on and finding it amusing, spoke to the ears again. “Thanks.”
One ear flopped—the one he’d breathed on.
Then he was promptly shoved away.
Clearly ticklish, Shen Zhou scowled, rubbing his ear, shaking it, then rubbing again.
Lu Buzhuo: “!”
Just a little demon—what trouble could he cause? Call him a few times, and he’d help; blow on his ear, and it’d flop. A bit of scheming, and he’d be tamed.
Feeling more lenient, Lu Buzhuo nodded good-naturedly when Shen Zhou asked, “You’re better?” then added unhappily, “Stop touching my ears.”
Lu Buzhuo nodded, agreeing only to the first part.
“The pill worked well. The fever’s gone in an hour.” He glanced back at the steps. “You were gone a while, so I came out to look around. Walked too far, got tired.”
Shen Zhou: “?”
The bamboo grove was barely a hundred steps away—how could he claim to be “tired”?
“You’re really better?” Shen Zhou asked skeptically. “Not about to die again?”
“I won’t die,” Lu Buzhuo said with a faint smile, recalling how Shen Zhou hadn’t hesitated to dunk him in icy water yesterday. Leaning closer, the bamboo scent from his sable cloak wafted out. “Slept well last night. Thanks for the care.”
He emphasized the last four words.
Shen Zhou missed the hint, brushing it off with an “oh,” blocking whatever else Lu might’ve said. He started walking back to the grove.
A hand grabbed his wrist from behind. Shen Zhou tugged, but couldn’t break free. For someone so sickly-looking, Lu Buzhuo had a strong grip, and the bamboo scent drifted over again. “Shen Zhou, I can’t walk.”
“…So?”
“Help me back.” Seeing Shen Zhou’s sour expression, Lu Buzhuo swayed as if unsteady, glancing at him. “After yesterday’s ice bath, my foundation’s shaky. Cough cough…”
“…” Shen Zhou suspected if he said no, Lu would faint again.
He studied Lu Buzhuo for a moment, then helped him back.
Once supported, Lu perked up, chattering in a soft tone sprinkled with an accent, sounding oddly cheerful. Shen Zhou didn’t understand the accent but found it pleasant—Lu hadn’t spoken like this before. He responded halfheartedly.
“Why’d it take so long?”
“Long walk.”
“What’d you buy?”
“Flatbread, dried meat, buns.”
“Why’s your new outfit still black? No other colors?”
“Don’t want to.”
“Well…”
Irritated by the questions, Shen Zhou let go.
Lu Buzhuo stopped asking, standing there and saying softly, “Shen Zhou.”
Shen Zhou noticed Lu used that tone when in a good mood or when he wanted something, making it seem like refusing would be cruel. After a moment’s hesitation, he kept helping.
Lu started up again. “Are you a wolf demon?”
“I’m not a demon.”
“Then what are you?”
“Half-demon. Demons don’t like me, humans don’t either. Born with nowhere to go.” Shen Zhou’s patience ran dry, and he shot Lu a cold glance. “Lu Buzhuo, you’re so noisy.”
Lu Buzhuo finally quieted.
Back at the bamboo grove, he suddenly asked, “So that’s why you don’t leave?”
Shen Zhou sat at the table, biting into a hot, crispy flatbread. “What?” he mumbled, turning back.
“If you were unhappy here before, why stay?”
“…” Shen Zhou swallowed. “A Tribulation-stage cultivator catching a half-demon is easier than drinking water. Where could I run? If you’d gotten this sick earlier, I’d have left long ago.”
Lu Buzhuo let out a silent “oh,” returning to the bed and wrapping himself in layers of blankets. “So you didn’t know.”
“Know what…” Shen Zhou paused, sensing Lu was getting too bold, probably from all the leniency today. He snapped, “Speak plainly or shut up. I’m eating.”
“There’s a formation in the bamboo grove,” Lu Buzhuo said, pulling the blankets tighter and pointing to the swaying green bamboo outside. “I walked around earlier and couldn’t get out, so I waited for you on the steps.”
He paused, then added, “If you wanted to leave, he couldn’t get out to chase you.”
Shen Zhou froze.
The flatbread fell to the table with a crisp crack.

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