Madness and… Jealousy
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Jiang Lian watched as Zhou Jiao left.
Standing in the filthy, damp stairwell, the look of guilt and pain on his face gradually disappeared, replaced by indifference, gloom, and somberness.
His guilt was genuine, and his apology was sincere, yet his feelings as he watched her leave were not.
As long as he saw her back disappearing from view, an inexplicable sense of panic would burn and boil within him.
He wanted to pull her back.
To tether her with his gaze.
If she was not firmly within his line of sight, he would keep thinking about her, worrying for her, feeling lost because of her.
She could easily stir his emotions, teaching him the base, weak, and fragile sentiments of humanity.
She was his only weakness.
Such an existence should either be killed or hidden away.
But he neither wanted to kill her nor hide her.
There was no other reason—just that he did not want her to suffer.
He already regretted treating her like that before.
Yet, even though he had learned to regret, he did not know how to make it up to her.
She was unwilling to teach him.
A wild, uncontrollable madness burned in Jiang Lian’s eyes.
He had never experienced such a complex mix of emotions before.
Obsession, possession, plundering, restraint, regret, pain, panic, unease… and even a sharp sliver of hatred trembling ceaselessly along his nerves.
She had obtained him, yet she did not want him, nor was she willing to teach him how to please her.
He hated how effortlessly she handled everything, yet he also hoped she could continue handling everything with such ease.
He was far stronger than her—if she could not always maintain control over him so effortlessly, the one who would end up hurt in the end would undoubtedly be her.
—A beast worrying that one day it might bite the person who tamed it, hoping that the leash around its neck could tighten just a little more.
This, too, was something that defied the laws of nature.
But Jiang Lian did not realize that his mind had already drifted to another thought.
…Should he seek help from the human “Jiang Lian”?
Zhou Jiao was, as expected, late—and lost another five hundred yuan because of it.
She felt a little annoyed. Had she known earlier, she wouldn’t have let Jiang Lian corrode all those gifts. Just a single piece of clothing from that pile was worth tens of thousands of dollars—more than enough to cover her being late for half a year.
Perhaps because her encounters with Jiang Lian had been too intense, her already dull job now felt even more tedious.
She yawned several times in boredom, wondering whether she should switch jobs.
And so, she idled her way through the morning until noon.
This company was a subsidiary of a transportation monopoly—one that controlled 80% of the world’s transport services. Biotech was also one of its primary clients.
Generally speaking, a transportation company’s business was never limited to just cargo. Occasionally, it transported live people as well—either helping an employer leave the city or ensuring that a designated target would never leave. If the cargo was too valuable, sometimes even firefights would break out.
But since joining the company, she had never encountered any of these thrilling events.
Zhou Jiao was starting to suspect that she had chosen the wrong profession.
At noon, after finishing her lunch, she took her cup to the break room to fetch some water, only to hear an explosive reprimand coming from the office:
“What did you say?! That shipment was lost? Do you have any idea how much it was worth? Even if I hacked you into pieces and sold you off, it wouldn’t come close to covering the loss!”
“Don’t you fing make up stories. Do you think I’d believe that? Surveillance footage malfunctioned, communicators stopped working, and even the recording function of your cybernetic eyes shut off automatically—so why the hell are you still alive? Shut up, I don’t want to hear another word.”
As Zhou Jiao eavesdropped, she casually tore open a packet of instant coffee.
She thought absentmindedly, Is this wretched company finally going under? That wouldn’t be so bad—it would save her the trouble of submitting a resignation letter.
The instant coffee smelled like ash water. And this was supposed to be the most expensive variety of synthetic coffee.
She took two sips before dumping the rest. If not for the need to stay awake, she wouldn’t have touched the stuff at all.
As she rinsed her cup, she could vaguely hear the heated discussion continuing in the office.
Losing a shipment was a major PR crisis for any transport company—especially one this valuable. This company was basically as good as dead.
She had no interest in what her superiors were discussing, but just then, her communicator suddenly rang.
“Ding-ling-ling—”
The caller was her boss, Richard.
Zhou Jiao immediately sensed something ominous. It was a keen intuition she had honed from years in biotech and special agencies.
She set down her cup lightly and answered, “Hello, Mr. Nielsen, what can I do for you?”
Richard Nielsen’s voice was calm, completely devoid of any abnormality. “Go downstairs and buy me a coffee. I want Saint Inés beans, not synthetic coffee. I’ve already transferred you the money.”
This was definitely not about coffee. But Zhou Jiao could only agree. Refusing him here would only make him tear off his polite mask and take action directly in the office building.
If she wasn’t mistaken, the moment she had been waiting for had finally arrived—her boss was preparing to send her, a temp worker, to take the fall for the lost shipment.
Without a change in expression, Zhou Jiao put on her coat. As her hand slipped into her pocket, she felt the taser-gun still there and felt slightly relieved.
She didn’t take the elevator but went down the stairwell instead.
When she reached the first floor, she ran into an unexpected person—Jiang Lian.
He stood in front of the office building’s entrance, tall and straight. He was dressed in a white coat and wore gold-rimmed glasses. One hand was in his pocket, while the other held a cigarette. He had barely taken a drag, and a long column of ash had already accumulated at the tip.
As if catching sight of her, he tilted his head slightly, flicked the ashes, and smiled faintly.
“Zhou Jiao, long time no see.”
Even though he hadn’t said anything more, Zhou Jiao had a vague guess about his identity—the original Jiang Lian.
Her eyebrows lifted slightly.
He was actually still alive.
Or rather… “he” was actually willing to let him appear.
“Talk?”
Zhou Jiao walked over. “You came at the wrong time. I’m being hunted down.”
“It’s fine,” Jiang Lian said. “‘He’ is here too. We’ll protect you.”
Zhou Jiao hadn’t interacted much with the original Jiang Lian and didn’t quite trust that he could protect her. She didn’t lower her guard, her finger remaining on the safety of the taser gun.
While keeping a close eye on her surroundings, she asked, “What exactly is going on?”
The differences between the two Jiang Lians were actually quite obvious. “He” always stared at her directly, his gaze permanently intense, naked in its fervor, carrying a bone-chilling obsession.
The original Jiang Lian, on the other hand, hid that obsession behind his deep, unreadable eyes.
“You gave ‘him’ a difficult problem,” Jiang Lian said. “‘He’ doesn’t know how to make it up to you.”
Zhou Jiao found it strange. “So ‘he’ asked you for help?”
Jiang Lian took a drag of his cigarette and said coolly, “‘He’ can only ask me. You refuse to teach ‘him’.”
Zhou Jiao found that even stranger.
She momentarily shifted her focus away from her surroundings and narrowed her eyes, scrutinizing Jiang Lian for several moments. “And how exactly are you teaching him?”
Jiang Lian paused for a moment. “Before I answer that, I have a question for you.”
Zhou Jiao recalled how “he” had pressed her that morning, demanding to know why she didn’t respect “him.” The memory made her want to laugh. But then something else crossed her mind, and her amusement faded. She straightened her posture and said seriously, “Go ahead.”
Jiang Lian, holding his cigarette, stepped forward. His gaze behind the lenses of his glasses was unwavering as it fixed on her face.
“Do you know that ‘his’ obsession with your scent is because of me?”
Zhou Jiao’s brow twitched. “I know.”
“Then do you also know—” Jiang Lian pinched her chin, took a drag of his cigarette, and exhaled a puff of smoke directly into her face, “that ‘he’ and I have already merged?”
His sharply defined features blurred within the swirling smoke, and within the haze, a faint, gloomy jealousy flickered across his expression.
Zhou Jiao caught that trace of jealousy, her sense of unease growing stronger. “You and ‘him’ have already merged? That, I really didn’t know.”
Jiang Lian seemed to sneer. “‘One body, two aberrations, several layers of pathological emotions.’ Lu Zehou’s assessment of ‘us’—did you forget so quickly?”
He tightened his grip, his voice turning cold. “Or do you actually enjoy being adored by two aberrations?”
His expression appeared calm, yet the slight spasms on his face betrayed a madness that was utterly terrifying. It was as if purplish-red tendrils were writhing in frenzied motion beneath his skin.
“…”
Zhou Jiao was beginning to understand.
She suppressed a laugh. “And what if I say yes?”
Jiang Lian’s lips curled into another cold smile.
Holding his cigarette between his thumb and forefinger, he took another drag. But as he exhaled, his thumb lightly brushed against his lips—
That gesture confirmed Zhou Jiao’s suspicions.
The person before her was not the original Jiang Lian.
It was the monster Jiang Lian—the one she was most familiar with.
At first, she had been fooled by his disguise.
But his flaws were simply too many.
First of all, the original Jiang Lian would never say things like “You gave ‘him’ a difficult problem.” or “You refuse to teach ‘him’.” These sentences were far too similar to that monster’s way of speaking.
Secondly, the original Jiang Lian was someone with extremely high emotional intelligence. Even though he had nothing but disdain for social conventions, he would still ask a lady’s opinion before smoking. He would never commit such a rude act as blowing smoke directly into someone’s face.
Lastly, only the monster would wipe his lips with his thumb—he did this every time he felt hungry.
For a moment, Zhou Jiao felt dazed.
Had she unknowingly become so familiar with that monster?
Her momentary distraction did not escape him.
Jiang Lian lightly shook her chin and ordered with displeasure, “Look at me, Zhou Jiao.”
Zhou Jiao blinked and gazed at him.
“Today, you must choose between me and ‘him’.” Jiang Lian’s voice was cold. “Tell me—who do you choose? I want to know who you would choose.”
Jiang Lian was on the verge of madness.
—Though ever since falling for Zhou Jiao, he had never been anything but mad, there had never been a moment like this, when he was both utterly insane and… jealous.
Yes, jealous.
He had learned jealousy—a feeling even more painful than guilt.
At last, he understood why he had always felt an unbearable, frenzied irritation.
It was jealousy.
When she spoke to others, he was jealous.
When his tendrils longed to watch her, he was jealous.
When she shook hands with someone else, he was jealous.
And when a stranger drank her blood—he was almost consumed by the flames of jealousy.
That was the first time he had struggled to maintain his human form. If he hadn’t fully accepted “Jiang Lian”‘s consciousness, he might have never realized that this emotion was jealousy.
He had actually fused with “Jiang Lian” long ago. But he had always harbored contempt for the rules of human society and had never truly accepted “Jiang Lian’s” consciousness.
If Zhou Jiao hadn’t presented him with this “difficult problem,” he might have never embraced anything about human society.
Yet, after accepting it, the problem had not resolved itself. Instead, it had given birth to another impossible dilemma—
—He might never be able to have Zhou Jiao all to himself.
If they were together, he would have to endure her being gazed upon by other lowly humans.
He would have to endure his tendrils coveting her.
He would even have to endure her using that human name… to address him.
The truth was, “Jiang Lian” had already ceased to exist.
He had inherited “Jiang Lian’s” paranoia, madness, and genetics. In a way, he was “Jiang Lian.”
They were the same person.
But he still felt jealous.
In love, jealousy was far more unbearable than restraint, fear, or insecurity.
Jiang Lian had a terrifying illusion—
He was not becoming a weak, lowly human.
—No. He had already become a weak, lowly human.
She had turned him into a human.
Only humans knew what it felt like to drown.
Jiang Lian’s gaze was icy and violent as he stared at Zhou Jiao.
His biological instincts urged him to tear her apart—to rip to shreds the person who had tamed him, seduced him, and implanted these inferior emotions into his mind.
She had made him weak, pathetic, and full of vulnerabilities.
She was changing him.
He should kill her.
And yet, despite the surging, overwhelming intent to kill—despite the crimson threads of blood in his eyes burning hot with rage—when he stood before her, the only thing he wanted to ask was:
—Who will you choose?
—The original Jiang Lian, or me?
A sudden wave of unwillingness and despair engulfed him.
For her, he had learned so many human emotions. Because of her, he had become a true monster.
But what if, in the end… she still didn’t want him?
What would he do then?
He couldn’t bear to make her suffer.
So he couldn’t hurt her. He couldn’t take her by force. He couldn’t keep her in a cage.
If she wanted to leave him, all he could do was watch her go.
Jiang Lian’s throat tightened. His breathing was heavy and suppressed.
For one fleeting moment, he nearly begged her—Don’t leave… me.
But in the next instant, he realized—if it was just liking her, there was no way he would have fallen this far.
…He was in love with her.
A split second later, a terrifying soundwave exploded through the air.
The scene that followed was indescribable in human language:
Sparks burst violently from the ceiling lights, the ground-floor windows shattered in an instant, and shards of glass rained down like a torrential storm.
Panic and fear flooded the entire building as the soundwaves infiltrated everything.
At the same time, Zhou Jiao’s boss—Richard Nielsen—was sipping his coffee leisurely when a sudden, sharp pain stabbed into his brain. His body convulsed violently, and he retched on the spot.
Everyone suffered because of his emotions, yet not a single person could hear his thoughts.
No one knew how unwilling, how agonized he was.
…Because it was a low-frequency soundwave beyond human perception.
Just then, warmth pressed against his lips—
Zhou Jiao had tipped her head up and kissed him.
She hooked her arms around his neck, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to his lips. As she did, she let out a muffled laugh against him.
“Why would you think I wouldn’t recognize you?”
She whispered softly into his ear, “What are you going crazy about this time? My little monster, have you figured out how to make it up to me?”
She had recognized him.
Jiang Lian’s expression did not change.
His face remained just as cold and violent, frozen in the same ruthless expression from a minute ago—yet within him, a tidal wave of wild ecstasy crashed and surged.
For a fleeting moment, he seemed to hear that human voice again:
“You’re done for.”
So what?
Jiang Lian lowered his gaze, staring intently at Zhou Jiao.
He held himself back. Again and again.
But after a long moment, he could no longer restrain himself—his tongue tangled with hers, twining together, sealing against her, devouring, deeply drinking her in.
His breath grew thick and sticky, his throat bobbing.
—Because right now, the one kissing her was him.
Not some human who had been swallowed whole.