For Her, He Struggles to Integrate into Human Society
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This was a bizarre yet strangely beautiful scene.
Jiang Lian was dressed in a black, form-fitting coat, with a white shirt and a black tie underneath. The fabrics were all of considerable value, accentuating his cold and pristine demeanor.
However, his eyes were burning red, as if brimming with an intense emotion that could not be put into words.
For a moment, he appeared deeply fractured—like he could peel off his cold, elegant human skin at any time, revealing his terrifying, chaotic, and frenzied inhuman essence.
And all of this was merely because she had placed a finger against her lips.
Zhou Jiao could hear the blood rushing through her veins, reminding her how exhilarated and excited she was at this moment.
Humans, though small and fragile, possessed a bottomless desire for conquest.
Tools, fire, seeds, animals, land… A close examination of human evolutionary history would reveal that it was, through and through, an epic of conquering nature.
Without this desire for conquest, she would not be standing here as a human.
Likewise, she would not be standing here confronting an entity that was unnameable, unpredictable, and uncontrollable.
Zhou Jiao watched as Jiang Lian held a fluorescent yellow umbrella and walked up to her.
Under the umbrella’s shadow, his gaze was heavy and thick, pressing down on her along with the stares of the surrounding “people.”
“Am I considered a stranger?”
Zhou Jiao glanced at him, then averted her gaze. “Dr. Jiang, I only moved to another city. I didn’t lose my memory.”
This time, Jiang Lian caught the hidden meaning in her words—she was willing to accept his umbrella.
Restlessness surged within him.
The surrounding “people,” influenced by his emotions, revealed eerily ecstatic expressions on their faces.
Though his tentacles did not manifest, thick purplish-red veins bulged out, as if the air itself were trembling and bleeding.
Jiang Lian wanted to bind Zhou Jiao’s hands and feet with his tentacles and pull her under the umbrella—he had no patience to wait for her to walk over.
If possible, he even wanted to discard the umbrella entirely and envelop her within his body.
The human method of avoiding the rain was so primitive and inefficient. Relying on him was the optimal choice.
But he restrained himself.
In human society, the prerequisite for interaction was respecting the other party.
Jiang Lian had no understanding of what respect was.
He only knew killing and feeding.
But he could pretend to understand respect.
For a creature to mimic the form and behavior of another creature was part of adapting to its ecological environment.
Jiang Lian fixed his gaze on her intently. His eyes were invasive, but his tone was gentlemanly: “Since Miss Zhou recognizes me, would you be willing to accept my umbrella?”
Zhou Jiao reached out her hand.
Jiang Lian hesitated for a few seconds before handing the umbrella over.
Then, Zhou Jiao took the umbrella and left.
Without waiting for him.
Jiang Lian watched Zhou Jiao’s retreating figure, his expression dark and obscure.
Had she accepted him, or rejected him?
What should he do? Grab her back and make her choose again?
That human’s voice echoed in his mind once more: “Follow her.”
If it were before, Jiang Lian would never have obeyed this human’s command.
From the very beginning, he had been at odds with this human.
This human’s will was as persistent and stubborn as Zhou Jiao’s. After descending, he should have optimized Jiang Lian’s genes, repairing his low-activity MAOA gene. But Jiang Lian had fought desperately to retain those inferior genes.
After Lu Zehou’s death, he should have abandoned this wretched shell immediately, severing himself completely from the taint of human genetics.
That way, he would never have to hear that human’s voice again.
But at the same time, he would have lost his best access to understanding human society.
For the sake of pursuing Zhou Jiao, he had accepted this human’s ugly form and endured this human’s inferior genes.
Without a word, Jiang Lian quickened his pace and followed her.
For the first time, he was following behind Zhou Jiao not because of a hunt or a chase.
The feeling was strange—his chest tingled with an unfamiliar sensation, like ants crawling beneath his skin.
He didn’t follow too closely—whenever he got too near, the people around him would be affected by his emotions, developing an uncontrollable, fanatical obsession with Zhou Jiao.
He didn’t like others coveting Zhou Jiao.
Even if that covetousness was caused by him.
—
Zhou Jiao could always feel Jiang Lian’s gaze.
Jiang Lian never concealed his emotions.
When he liked something, he stared directly, his gaze as scorching as if it had physical weight, like it could burn two holes into her back.
Being so fiercely desired gave her a feeling she couldn’t quite describe—a kind of unnameable satisfaction.
She returned to her apartment.
It was a cheap, run-down building. The stairwell was cluttered with garbage bags, and the peeling walls were covered in advertisements, footprints, spray-painted graffiti, and long scratches that looked as if they had been gouged by fingernails.
Zhou Jiao stepped into the cage-like elevator, pressing the close door button before Jiang Lian could enter.
The last thing she saw was his cold, irritated expression.
He stood outside the metal-barred doors, his gaze shifting unpredictably between icy and volatile, as if considering whether to rip the elevator car down with his tentacles.
Zhou Jiao took a step back, pressing against the elevator wall, mentally preparing for the sudden drop.
But unexpectedly, Jiang Lian did not do it.
Suppressing his frustration, he simply stood there and waited for the next elevator.
Zhou Jiao thought, If he applied this kind of patience to hunting or imprisoning her, she would have almost no chance of escaping.
She swiped her keycard to unlock the door and was about to close it.
At that moment, the elevator doors slid open, and Jiang Lian saw her shutting the door.
His patience finally ran out. A fissure split open behind him, and his tentacles shot out like lightning, forcefully jamming the closing metal door.
Zhou Jiao turned back, looking at him in confusion. A few seconds later, she suddenly understood and let out an “Oh.”
“Sorry, I forgot to return your umbrella.”
She gripped the fluorescent yellow umbrella by its tip and extended it toward him—a gesture that, if Jiang Lian understood human etiquette, he would recognize as quite polite.
She had deliberately turned the handle toward him to make it easier for him to take.
But Jiang Lian did not perceive her courtesy.
All he saw was her intentionally holding the umbrella by the tip—as if she were implying that he should stay away from her.
His cold gaze bore into her, unable to comprehend her intentions.
She had refused the puppet’s umbrella, saying she wouldn’t take an umbrella from a stranger. But she had accepted the one he handed her, which meant she had allowed him to approach.
On the way here, he had followed closely behind her, and she had not shown any signs of displeasure.
Yet now, she was trying to shut him out and using the umbrella to keep him at a distance—what did that mean?
Jiang Lian spoke directly. “You accepted my umbrella.”
“So?” Zhou Jiao tilted her head.
“To thank me for my kindness, you should invite me in…” Jiang Lian paused, as if carefully choosing his words. “…to sit for a while.”
Zhou Jiao couldn’t help but laugh—because of the way he stiffly mimicked human speech.
She was laughing at him.
No one had ever laughed at Jiang Lian before.
His pupils dilated, then contracted.
Unknowingly, his dark purple tentacles had already spread across the entire corridor like a viscous liquid, writhing and reaching toward her.
Strangely, if it had been anyone else making that sound in front of him, he would have twisted their neck without hesitation.
But with Zhou Jiao, his killing intent inexplicably faded—replaced by another, stranger impulse.
He wanted to kiss her.
To kiss her roughly, to steal her breath, until her eyes turned red at the corners, until her lips were swollen, until she could no longer make that kind of mocking laughter.
As the thought took hold, Jiang Lian’s body reacted on its own. His mouth watered, his throat moved, and a distinct swallowing sound echoed in the corridor.
At that moment, he heard Zhou Jiao say, “Then come in. But you’d better put away those tentacles—I don’t want the neighbors calling the police.”
Jiang Lian’s gaze flickered.
From a biological perspective, the more people who saw his tentacles, the better. That way, everyone would know that Zhou Jiao belonged to him, that this place was marked by him—it was his territory.
But from a human perspective… right now, it was best to listen to Zhou Jiao and leave a good impression on her.
Slowly, inch by inch, Jiang Lian retracted his tentacles.
In the next instant, however, those same tentacles seeped into Zhou Jiao’s apartment in a camouflaged, invisible form—like a damp, sticky, transparent web—spreading across every corner of her home in an instant.
They remained still, “watching” her.
Like a predator observing its prey’s reaction, meticulously studying her every move.
Inside the apartment—a gift he had prepared for her.
He and They eagerly awaited her reaction.
—
Zhou Jiao was, indeed, surprised.
The living room floor was piled high with boxes of various sizes. Each box was marked with a dark green logo that read “Organic.”
In this era, if one were to ask what was the most luxurious, the most valuable, and the greatest symbol of status, the answer would not be the old luxury brands—but organic matter.
Only those at the very pinnacle of the social pyramid could enjoy organic meat and organic vegetables—not just the wealthy, but those with both money and power. Lacking either, one could not obtain the freshest and safest organic food.
As for organic fabrics, they were even rarer.
Most animals had already gone extinct. Silkworms, minks, birds, rabbits, goats, sheep, camels… Their existence was now confined to laboratory test tubes. And even then, these animals were only accessible to the highest-ranking elites—never publicly sold.
Yet, inside these boxes in front of Zhou Jiao, there were clothes made entirely from organic fabrics.
Lingerie, shirts, T-shirts, camisoles, short-sleeved tops, pajamas, elegantly tailored dresses, and even suits cut perfectly to her exact measurements.
Beyond that, there were all kinds of shoes.
For the first time, Zhou Jiao realized that shoes could fit this perfectly—so precise that even the slight arch in the center of her foot was accounted for.
Her eye twitched slightly.
How did Jiang Lian know her exact foot size?
Even the subtle curvature of her arch—he knew it all.
The thought of Jiang Lian using his grotesque, monstrous tentacles to measure her feet while she was unaware sent a shiver down her spine.
Yet, strangely enough, a subtle sense of satisfaction also surfaced in her heart.
—An all-powerful “god” had humbled himself at her feet, meticulously measuring them, not even daring to wake her.
The more ruthless, brutal, and capricious he had been before, the more his current caution and restraint satisfied her desire to conquer.
But she had no intention of accepting these gifts.
Zhou Jiao walked around the boxes, casually taking off her coat as she entered the bedroom. She grabbed two pieces of her own clothing, preparing for a shower.
Jiang Lian stood in the living room, his face cold and expressionless, but his long, narrow eyes followed her every movement.
Catching a glimpse of his gaze in her peripheral vision, Zhou Jiao felt both amused and… strangely moved, as if something had bumped against her heart.
…Jiang Lian’s eyes were too pure.
For the first time, she realized—his gaze was so uncomplicated.
When he desired her, it was pure desire.
When he was enraged, it was pure rage.