Everyone Is Non-Human Except Me [Rebirth] Chapter 52

His answer left Wei Huan a little stunned.

What the h*ll? When did this guy learn to play along? And so smoothly, too?

Yun Yongzhou was truly strange. Sometimes he would speak in roundabout ways that didn’t make sense, and sometimes he was so direct, like an apple suddenly falling and bonking you on the head—thunk—leaving you dizzy and seeing stars.

Why “see me” of all things? He even said it so naturally, as if he really came to see him.

It made his heart utterly chaotic.

“What’s so interesting about looking at me…” Wei Huan muttered softly, quickly darting away from Yun Yongzhou’s side. “I’m going to take a shower.”

Yun Yongzhou grabbed him. “Wait.” Then he pulled Wei Huan over to the wardrobe, opened the door, squatted down, and pulled open the drawer on the far left. Inside, many neatly folded clothes were stacked. “You can wear these.”

What does that mean? Wei Huan squatted down too. “So, does that mean I can’t wear the others?”

Yun Yongzhou was already bad at talking, and now Wei Huan’s bizarre train of thought left him even more speechless.

“You can.”

Wei Huan pointed at the clothes in the small drawer. “Then what’s the difference between these and the others?”

Yun Yongzhou turned his face to look at him. “These are new. I just bought them.”

Wei Huan was momentarily stunned. He didn’t know why, but it was as if there was a strange translator in his brain automatically filling in the unspoken part of Yun Yongzhou’s sentence, turning “These are new. I just bought them,” into “I just bought these especially for you.”
Even though that was such a clumsy and hasty mental leap, his face suddenly felt burning hot.

“Oh.” Wei Huan, dazed, randomly grabbed a set from the drawer, clutched his little tail, and scurried into the bathroom.

He didn’t have time to notice how many of those clothes in Yun Yongzhou’s drawer closely resembled the ones he used to wear in high school.

The rules in Shanhai were always strict—only on weekends could students wear what they liked instead of uniforms. Sometimes on campus, Yun Yongzhou would encounter Wei Huan. Though he wouldn’t go up to greet him, he would always sneak glances when Wei Huan wasn’t paying attention.

To see what colors he was wearing that day, what style, and to guess his mood.

Just a glance. That was enough to add a little warmth to an otherwise dull life.

Even when closing his eyes, he could still hear him from afar, calling out, “Little Golden Crow,” with that brilliantly smiling face.

There was only one bathroom. After Wei Huan finished his shower, Yun Yongzhou went in next. Wei Huan rubbed his hair dry with a towel and plopped down on the sofa. He noticed a piece of grass on the floor, found it curious, and picked it up to inspect it.

“Ying Ying Monster.”

Hearing Wei Huan call him, Little Furball hopped out with a few bounces. “Ying?”

Wei Huan shook the little red reed in his hand. “Tell me, what is this?”

Little Furball bounced around and started explaining with soft whimpers, even acting it out. First, he pulled out his little cloth pouch.

“Oh, it came from your pouch—you brought it back?”

“Ying!” After confirming, Little Furball immediately flopped onto the coffee table, curling into a long, furry strip, squirming around.

Wei Huan felt like he was in the middle of a rapid-fire guessing game, participating in a grand round of charades. Holding the little reed, he pondered deeply, then suddenly had a flash of insight. “Oh! You mean this is the grass I saw this morning—the one drilling into the ground.”

“Ying!”

Wei Huan extended his palm, and Little Furball bounced up to tap it—considered a high five.

“Why does it seem like it looks a little different now?” Wei Huan examined it closely. It seemed to have grown slightly. “What kind of grass is this?”

Little Furball climbed onto the back of his hand, flopped down, and suddenly closed his eyes, starting to sleep with loud, peaceful breathing. Wei Huan was puzzled. “What are you acting out now?”

Sleeping.

Dreaming?

Wei Huan was a bit surprised. “Is this Embracing Dream Grass?”

Little Furball instantly woke up, shaking with excitement. “Ying Ying Ying!”

He really felt like he’d now mastered the strange languages of various magical creatures.

“How did you get Embracing Dream Grass? This thing isn’t easy to find.”

Little Furball puffed up his front, as if proudly sticking out his chest.

Wei Huan had first learned about Embracing Dream Grass back in high school. His desk mate at the time was a peach demon whose family owned a whole garden of enchanted grasses. Back then, many female classmates would often come to ask her, “Does your family have Embracing Dream Grass?”

“When will your family’s Embracing Dream Grass come?”

“Can I borrow your family’s Embracing Dream Grass for one night? Please?”

At first, Wei Huan wasn’t really interested in these girlish things. But after hearing people ask so often, his curiosity was piqued, so he asked, “What exactly is Embracing Dream Grass?”

The little peach demon explained, “Embracing Dream Grass is a very rare magical plant. During the day, it looks just like a withered piece of grass, burrowing underground to hide. Only at night does it come out again. If it likes you and has enough magical power, it might secretly take human form at night. But most of the time, Embracing Dream Grass is just a red reed.”

Wei Huan didn’t understand. “It’s just a piece of grass, what’s so special about it? Who can’t take human form nowadays?”

“Of course it’s special!” The peach demon looked at him with an expression that screamed, you ignorant little bird. “‘Huai Meng’—it means embracing it while dreaming. I heard that if you sleep while holding Embracing Dream Grass, you’ll dream of the person you most want to see.”

“Dream of the person you most want to see?” Wei Huan was even more puzzled. “Why would I want to dream about someone else?”

“You clueless, blockheaded bird.” The peach demon sighed in exasperation, resting her chin on her hand. “Forget it, how could someone like the ever-charming Little Nine Phoenix ever get caught up in a young girl’s lovesickness?”

“Tch, what’s lovesickness got to do with dreaming? You girls really are strange.”

“You don’t get it. When you really like someone, your heart races, you get nervous, you lose your composure, your mind is full of them, they even show up in your dreams…”

“I would never.”

The memory stopped there. Wei Huan stared at the small red blade of grass in his palm, never expecting that the precious Embracing Dream Grass he’d heard about back then would one day be casually picked up by this little furball like some random piece of trash.

He poked the little furball’s still-puffed-out chest with a grin. “Not bad, huh? Champion of the Demon Realm’s Trash-Picking Competition.”

Huai Meng, Huai Meng…

His mind started to wander again.

“Hey, squeaky furball, if I sleep holding this grass, who do you think I’d dream of?”

The little furball had just squeaked when—click—the bathroom door opened. Yun Yongzhou walked out, wrapped in the lingering warmth of the shower, wearing loose pajamas. His half-damp hair clung to his forehead, his whole being softened by the steam, making him look much less threatening.

Wei Huan watched as he headed straight for the bedroom and stretched his neck to call after him, “Aren’t you gonna dry your hair?”

Yun Yongzhou ignored him and didn’t stop.

“Hey! Sleeping with wet hair isn’t good for your health!”

That finally made Yun Yongzhou stop. He turned back to Wei Huan and said, “Come here.”

Huh?

Wei Huan didn’t understand what he meant, but obediently replied, “Oh,” and followed Yun Yongzhou into the bedroom, carrying the Embracing Dream Grass and the little furball with him.
Once inside, Yun Yongzhou said, “Sit.”

“What for?” Wei Huan asked, but still did as told. Just as his butt touched the soft bed, Yun Yongzhou turned and walked out.

What the heck…

What’s with this guy?

But not long after, he returned holding a small hairdryer. He pressed down on Wei Huan’s head and flipped the dryer on.

Wei Huan hadn’t expected this turn of events. “Hey, you’re gonna blow-dry it for me?”

“Don’t move.” Yun Yongzhou pressed on his head.

“No, I meant you should dry your own hair! You misunderstood me—I wasn’t asking you to do it for me.” Wei Huan struggled, but Yun Yongzhou suddenly stopped and shut off the dryer.

He tilted his head, holding the dryer in his right hand, and in his left palm, a familiar flame quietly ignited.

“Which one do you want?”

A brutal image immediately flashed in Wei Huan’s mind—his beautiful hair burning to ashes in an instant under Yun Yongzhou’s fire. He quickly sat up straight. “The dryer! The dryer! Thank you, kind sir.”

Only then did Yun Yongzhou put out the flame and resume blow-drying his hair. Wei Huan obediently shut his mouth and, for once, stayed quiet.

In this position, he couldn’t see Yun Yongzhou’s face, so he simply closed his eyes and felt those long, slender fingers threading gently through his hair. The fingertips would occasionally graze his scalp, which felt surprisingly pleasant.

Before his death, after losing his parents, Wei Huan had abandoned his long-held dream of living an ordinary life away from the battlefield. He forced himself into one dangerous mission after another, doing everything he could to protect more people.

After each mission, he would always go back to that cold, empty home first, carefully wiping the spirit tablets of his parents—fragments he had painstakingly pieced back together—and talk with them for a while before returning to Shanhai to report.

No one knew these secrets. Wei Huan never showed his wounds to anyone. He always wore a smile, no matter what happened.

Walking down a blood-soaked path with no way back, Wei Huan had long forgotten that he once wanted a peaceful life.

But in this moment, that long-dead wish seemed to stir faintly back to life. It was restless again. He wanted to be cared for, to do silly, mundane things in a time of peace. To say something utterly blasphemous—he didn’t want to be anyone’s hero.

He just wanted to be a spoiled, useless Little Nine Phoenix.

His nose stung. He felt a little sad. Wei Huan licked his lips and fell silent.

Yun Yongzhou’s blow-drying was clumsy—he’d blow one spot, then jump to another, causing Wei Huan’s hair to fly in all directions. He was just as awkward as always, but so very earnest in his clumsiness.

Yet Wei Huan didn’t mock him like he usually would for being a pampered young master who couldn’t take care of himself. Instead, he reached out with both hands and grabbed the hem of Yun Yongzhou’s shirt on either side.

Yun Yongzhou paused, saying nothing, but Wei Huan knew what he was asking—What’s wrong?

“Nothing,” Wei Huan mumbled, lowering his head.

Actually, I want to hug you.

I want to hide from my fate for a little while.

But why did being near Yun Yongzhou make him feel so safe?

This question suddenly bubbled up, and Wei Huan didn’t understand. It felt instinctive. He tried to recall—from the moment he was reborn, he had made new friends, reconnected with old ones, and though his feelings had shifted many times, things seemed somehow different with Yun Yongzhou. No matter what happened, Wei Huan could always joke his way through, rationally analyze everything, control his emotions, always acting like he didn’t take things seriously—but deep down, he was always clear-headed.

Except when it came to Yun Yongzhou.

Whenever he faced him, he’d somehow turn back into that defeated eighteen-year-old boy.

He had long wanted to figure this out—there must be some reason why a person becomes special—but he wasn’t sure whether his reason would hold up.

The little furball clung to that Embracing Dream Grass and made its way onto Wei Huan’s knee. The tip of the little grass swayed gently. He was somewhat doubtful of this so-called legend, but he also started to understand what those girls were thinking. Maybe the Embracing Dream Grass was just their way of testing things.

Suddenly, he remembered what the little peach demon had said.

[When you really like someone, your heart will definitely race, you’ll feel anxious and flustered, you won’t know what to do, your mind will be full of them, even your dreams will be filled with them.]

Wei Huan started counting his “hits” on his fingers. Racing heartbeat—seems like he had that… hit. Feeling anxious—seems like he had that too, let’s call that a hit as well. Completely flustered…

Mind full of him.

It wasn’t just that his mind was full of him—his head was full of the scene of him giving him mouth-to-mouth. Should that count as two hits?

Could it be… he really liked Yun Yongzhou? Realizing this, Wei Huan suddenly lifted his head.

Yun Yongzhou, interrupted by his movement, stopped blow-drying his hair. He didn’t speak, just looked at him, his eyebrows slightly raised in a soft, gentle expression—a silent concern.

Wei Huan lowered his head, shaking it.

There was still one last thing: dreams full of him.

The little furball’s fuzz floated alongside the Embracing Dream Grass.

Should he try it?

Wei Huan fell into the hardest multiple-choice question he had encountered in over twenty years.

While Wei Huan tugged at his sleeve, Yun Yongzhou continued drying his hair, truly enjoying this moment. He could clearly feel Wei Huan right by his side. There was no need to be sad for dreaming of him, nor to feel regret if he didn’t.

Almost dry. Yun Yongzhou switched off the hairdryer, and the surroundings instantly became quiet—so quiet that the cicadas outside seemed to be tapping the moonlight.

When he looked down, he saw that Wei Huan was starting to get sleepy. Even though he was still holding onto the corner of Yun Yongzhou’s clothes, his eyes were already struggling to stay open. His head kept nodding off, exactly like how he was during the meditation classes on the top floor of the No Speak Building.

“Lie down and sleep.” Yun Yongzhou lightly tapped his wrist. Only then did Wei Huan, in a daze, loosen his grip on his clothes. Thinking was just too exhausting. He instinctively murmured, “Oh,” and flopped onto the bed, yawning. Sleepiness made his words come out sluggish, “Aren’t you going to dry yours? I can… help you…”

Still talking big, even in this state.

Yun Yongzhou put the hairdryer aside, pulled the thin blanket over Wei Huan, and picked up a pillow, getting ready to sleep on the sofa outside. But as soon as he turned, Wei Huan’s hand caught his wrist.

“Where you going…”

Wei Huan’s voice when he was sleepy was softer and slower than usual, as if all his endless energy had been drained by exhaustion, turning into a lazy feather drifting wherever it pleased.

Yun Yongzhou glanced at the wrist that was caught and replied directly, “The sofa.”

Hearing this, Wei Huan, eyes already too heavy to open, turned over, patting the empty half of the bed beside him, “Here… enough.”

Yun Yongzhou froze for a moment, standing at the bedside a bit at a loss.

There was this guilty feeling of taking advantage, mixed with a subtle joy.

After standing there for a while, he quietly turned off the bedside lamp. Darkness quickly swallowed the room—him, Wei Huan, and this not-too-big, not-too-small bed—all swallowed into the belly of the summer night, no way out, no way in, no one could disturb them.

The sleepiness was overwhelming. Wei Huan could feel the bed sink slightly beside him, but his eyelids were just too heavy—he couldn’t open them. The little furball shrank down to the size of a tiny beetle and crawled to Wei Huan’s cheek, making him feel super itchy. He instinctively reached out and brushed the furball away. He wanted to say something like “Don’t get on my face,” but what came out was just a few sticky, muffled murmurs.

This didn’t seem like a mighty Nine Phoenix at all—more like a little bug that fell into a jar of honey.

Sticky, sweet, and not even willing to admit it.

Yun Yongzhou lay on his side next to him. The “Child of Light” that Wei Huan always teased him about rarely borrowed the moonlight to quietly observe his sleeping face. Wei Huan slept soundly, just as he expected. He was always like this—especially after finishing missions and during Group Seven’s team dinners. While waiting for food, he could always sneak in a nap, and when he woke up, there’d be a red mark on his forehead, making him look a bit silly.

Unlike now—there was just a golden dot left between his brows.

Reaching out, leaving just a millimeter of distance, Yun Yongzhou carefully traced three faint demon marks across his cheek. Whenever his blue demon energy surged, these marks would appear on his face, along with that cocky yet adorable smile. This human boy quietly lying by his side was once the most untamed Nine Phoenix in the world.

The essence of the night nurtured the Embracing Dream Grass in Wei Huan’s arms, allowing it to start growing. What Wei Huan didn’t know was that this little demon grass, like the Changmingdeng Niang, could also take on a tiny human form. But Embracing Dream was different—what grew out was a pretty little boy, about the height of a forearm, wrapped in grass leaves, his big eyes looking especially bright and clever.

When Wei Huan was deep asleep, the little one popped out, poking his head out from the blanket, intending to check out his surroundings. But the first thing he saw when he stuck his head out was Yun Yongzhou’s face, scaring him so much that he quickly ducked back in, trembling and whispering, “Golden Crow… it’s the Golden Crow…”

So he was just talking to this little demon earlier?

Thinking about Wei Huan’s earlier secretive behavior, Yun Yongzhou was a little displeased. He hadn’t even thought of hugging this guy—what right did this little demon have to cling to him and share his blanket? The more he thought about it, the more sour he felt. So Yun Yongzhou gently lifted the blanket and, like picking up a chick, grabbed the little Huai Meng and mercilessly tossed him off the bed.

The little Embracing Dream Grass got up from the floor, tearfully patting his little butt, pouting in grievance, “Golden Crow… scary Golden Crow…”

The little furball watched as Yun Yongzhou ruthlessly tossed Embracing Dream Grass aside, trembling in fear, his eyes wide, almost letting out a whimper. But Yun Yongzhou placed his finger against his lips, “Shh…” Only then did the furball forcefully swallow that whimper back and burrow into Yun Yongzhou’s shoulder.

Wei Huan turned over, facing away, his slightly thin back like a blank canvas. The moonlight, briefly returned, cast Yun Yongzhou’s shadow onto it—a heavy shadow slowly spreading, like ink soaking in, pressing tightly against his slender, beautiful nape. Even through the fabric, it seemed to seep into the quietly flowing blood beneath.

The darkness crept along the line of his spine, inch by inch, wrapping around his entire body without a single gap, like a shell that could never be separated from him.

The scorching fire burned through the summer night, the anxious heartbeat crackling louder than the cicadas outside the window.

That intense heat melted the cool moonlight into sticky shadows, replacing me to embrace your back.

Pretending to be so close, as if we had nothing between us.

For once, he had a good night’s sleep. Wei Huan woke up early in the morning. When he opened his eyes, Yun Yongzhou was right in front of him, still asleep. It was the first time Yun Yongzhou hadn’t left by the time he woke up. Somehow, that made him a little happy.

Yun Yongzhou’s sleeping face was so obedient, so soft. Wei Huan couldn’t take his eyes off him. His gaze slid from his sharp nose down to his delicately shaped lips.

His lips were on the thinner side, looking a bit cold. But if he smiled, the corners would sink in slightly. Unexpectedly sweet, although that was rare.

And they were really soft.

No, wait, what does he mean by “really soft”? Wei Huan suddenly jolted, and the scene from the seabed flashed in his mind again.

When could he finally stop thinking about these things? He was starting to find it impossible to look Yun Yongzhou in the eye.

Could it really be that he liked men? He hadn’t even kissed a girl before, and his precious first kiss had just gone to a little golden crow—without the other even knowing about it? Wasn’t this too tragic?

Wait.

He didn’t dream last night.

Hey, where’s my grass?

Suddenly remembering the Embracing Dream Grass, Wei Huan started searching all over, but that little red grass was nowhere to be found on the bed. No matter how hard he looked, it was just gone.

Liar. They said if you slept holding the Embracing Dream Grass, you’d dream of the person you wanted to see the most. Total scam, just tricking young girls.

Maybe Wei Huan was making too much noise searching, because Yun Yongzhou furrowed his brows and opened his eyes. His amber pupils took a moment to focus. When he met Wei Huan’s gaze, he looked slightly startled, quickly turning his back to him.

What’s with this sudden mood swing so early in the morning?

Ah, found it. When Yun Yongzhou turned over, he revealed the little red grass—it was flattened beneath him.

Looking at the squashed grass, Wei Huan grumbled in a whisper, “Ah, my lord, you’re going to crush my grass to death…” Wait, Wei Huan corrected himself, “Not grass—a little liar.”

When he looked up, his eyes accidentally lingered a moment longer, and he noticed that Yun Yongzhou’s neck was all red, and even his ears were flushed.

“Yun Yongzhou…?” Wei Huan cautiously leaned in, but the other person didn’t move at all, as if he’d fallen back asleep.

He was burning hot, just being near him felt like being close to a campfire.

“What kind of dream did you have to make your neck turn this red…” Wei Huan mumbled quietly, then laid back down, staring at the ceiling.

Sigh. It felt like he’d put in all the effort to complete an exam, only for the grader to accidentally lose his test paper—completely wasted.

Twisting the little grass between his fingers, Wei Huan blinked. Should he try again?

Would going back to sleep work?

As Wei Huan was considering whether to attempt another “make-up exam,” Yun Yongzhou, still facing away from him, never actually closed his eyes. He worked hard to steady his breathing, trying his best to remain calm. Don’t panic. Don’t let your heart race.

Don’t think about that dream from last night.

That dream he wanted too much.

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