Everyone Is Non-Human Except Me [Rebirth] Chapter 78

Consciousness slipped.

Wei Huan had a dream.

In the dream, he had just changed clothes and stepped out of a room. Outside stood Yang Sheng and Buyu, both wearing the same combat uniform—not the blue of Fuyao nor the white of Shangshan, but deep gray uniforms, perfectly identical.

He looked down at himself—he was wearing the same deep gray combat uniform.

It was the day they officially joined the Shanhai Reserve Combat Corps.

“These new uniforms are sick. Compared to these, the academy-issue suits might as well be pajamas,” Yang Sheng was practically glowing with pride. “Look, Buyu, we even got shoulder patches!”

Su Buyu nodded and turned immediately to Wei Huan. “Ah Huan looks great in this. Really great.”

Yang Sheng clicked his tongue. “You always praise him. Didn’t hear you say anything about me just now.”

“Oh, come on,” Wei Huan rolled his eyes. “Since when has Buyu ever lied? I’m just better looking than you, deal with it. I am the officially acknowledged campus heartthrob of Fuyao.”

He examined the uniform more closely and noticed something off on the left chest area. “Huh? Why is this spot here all empty?”

Yang Sheng looked down too. “Oh yeah, you’re right.”

Su Buyu explained, “I heard from the senior who handed these out—this spot is where they’ll attach our battle insignias later.”

“Battle insignia?” Wei Huan was puzzled. “From the school?”

“Oh! I get it now!” Yang Sheng clapped his hands. “My dad told me about this—once we officially become reserve soldiers, we’ll be deployed to all kinds of dangerous missions, not like our previous neighborhood patrols. If we succeed, we’ll earn merit for Shanhai and the Demon Domain, and then we’ll get corresponding levels of insignias.”

“Oh!” Wei Huan suddenly remembered. “My mom and dad had those!”

“Uncle and Auntie’s are probably different—they were government military,” Buyu said. “Ours are a mix of the Shanhai insignia and our family crests. Pretty symbolic, actually.”

“So that’s what it is…” Wei Huan touched that small empty patch on his chest, then looked up and grinned smugly. “Just wait, I’ll be the first one to earn a battle insignia!”

“Pfft,” Yang Sheng sighed dramatically. “Don’t forget, someone in front of you is even more bad*ss…”

And speak of the devil—Yun Yongzhou walked out in his own new uniform, silent and aloof. The previously cheerful atmosphere instantly grew awkward. Yang Sheng, the peacemaker, called out, “I gotta admit, Yongzhou pulls this look off. Real sharp.”

Wei Huan turned to glance at him and, unusually, didn’t argue back.

Yun Yongzhou did look good in it—sharp and striking. The deep gray complemented his cold, indifferent face perfectly, a far cry from his old red combat gear from Yansui. For some reason, Wei Huan even imagined what he’d look like in his father’s military uniform. Probably even better.

Yun Yongzhou stared at him with those cold amber eyes.

“What are you looking at?”

The air turned frigid. Su Buyu tugged on Wei Huan’s arm. “Let’s go. More students will be arriving soon.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Yang Sheng chimed in. “This is our first day as reserves. We should go celebrate!”

Wei Huan didn’t actually feel awkward about Yun Yongzhou’s attitude. He was used to it—that was just who he was. Honestly, he felt like Yun Yongzhou treating him this way meant he acknowledged him in his own way.

If it were anyone else, Yun Yongzhou wouldn’t even bother speaking.

While Yang Sheng and Su Buyu argued about where to eat, Wei Huan walked beside them. Then he glanced back.

Good, good—Yun Yongzhou hadn’t wandered off.

He was following, but staying quite far back—seven or eight meters at least.

Wei Huan instinctively slowed down, bit by bit, gradually closing the distance between them. The other two were deep in discussion and didn’t notice. Wei Huan stopped altogether—and as soon as he did, Yun Yongzhou stopped too, standing a few meters away, just looking at him.

What’s that supposed to mean?

A breeze stirred. Wei Huan smirked, fingers twitching slightly, and shaped the wind into invisible hands. They shoved Yun Yongzhou from behind. Off guard, he stumbled forward, nearly falling.

In an instant, the distance between them shrank. Wei Huan tried to hold back a laugh, but his grin betrayed him—his little canine teeth peeking out.

“I didn’t touch you,” he said brightly, raising both hands. “You came over on your own.”

Yun Yongzhou’s face went red, then white. He turned his gaze away, clearly annoyed.

Wei Huan turned his head to check—those two idiots up front still hadn’t noticed he was gone. He grinned and leaned in to Yun Yongzhou, whispering, “I think you look really good in that uniform too.” With that, he took a big stride and stood shoulder-to-shoulder with him.

He didn’t see Yun Yongzhou’s expression and didn’t care what his reaction might be.

He just wanted to say it.

Yun Yongzhou paused for a moment but eventually stepped forward and continued walking. Wei Huan trailed close beside him. He was humming a tune no one recognized, walking with such cheer he looked like a little sparrow—just short of flapping his wings. His delight was so overwhelming that it seemed to affect Yun Yongzhou entirely, like ice afraid of direct sunlight, melting uncontrollably into a pool of soft, shapeless water.

This loss of control made Yun Yongzhou panic. It terrified him.

So he finally couldn’t hold back and stopped in his tracks, speaking coldly: “What exactly are you so happy about?”

Wei Huan blinked, halted as well, and turned to face him. “Me?” His eyes darted around. “I don’t really know why I’m happy. Just am. What, are you allowed to sulk all day and I’m not allowed to be cheerful?”

“No one is happy for no reason,” Yun Yongzhou insisted.

“You’ve got a point.” Wei Huan puffed out his cheeks, his hand subconsciously touching the empty patch over his left chest where a battle emblem would go. His gaze shifted to Yun Yongzhou’s uniform.

“Maybe it’s because… we’re wearing the same outfit now.” A little bug flew to the tip of his nose—he waved it away, and with a swipe through the air, unintentionally conjured a handful of blue petals from the wind.

He brought the flowers behind his back, holding them out of view, and continued, “Before, we all wore different academy combat uniforms, all different colors and styles. But now, they’re all the same dark gray—and honestly, they look pretty good.”

This answer clearly caught Yun Yongzhou off guard. He stared blankly at Wei Huan, saying nothing.

Wei Huan’s face broke into a radiant smile, like the warm sun of early spring.

“‘In robes together with you.’”

The memory ended abruptly, cutting off the dream. Wei Huan could feel himself waking up—he tried hard not to, wanting to know what happened next, why the memory was so vague when he could barely recall any of it at all.

But in the end, he still woke up. His vision slowly cleared—everything was white. He blinked weakly. The ceiling was a blank expanse of white.

“You’re awake?”

Wei Huan turned his head and saw Su Buyu sitting beside the bed. His voice was quiet. Another glance revealed that Jing Yun and Yang Ling had fallen asleep together on the sofa.

Wei Huan tried to sit up. Su Buyu adjusted the hospital bed mattress for him, lowering his voice. “It’s good you’re awake. I didn’t dare leave your side.”

Where’s Yun Yongzhou?

Wei Huan looked around the room. In the end, he still asked, “Where are the others?”

“Some of the Demon Puppets escaped. Yang Sheng took the students to chase them. That human with the demon markings left with the Nine-Tails. They both wanted to stay and wait until you woke up, so I brought them here instead.” Su Buyu tucked in the blanket for him. “After that Demon Puppet was sealed, you passed out. The doctors said your human body can’t sustain two types of demon power—it overwhelmed your energy, so you went into shock. You can’t keep going like this.”

Wei Huan didn’t respond—he just listened quietly. But no matter how hard he tried to focus, his thoughts were still caught on one person.

He just wanted to know where Yun Yongzhou was. Why he would sacrifice his eyes.

And when did he learn that Wei Huan was Nine Phoenix?

Seeing Wei Huan had gone silent, Su Buyu didn’t press further. “I made some porridge. You should have a little to regain your strength.”

“Buyu.”

Wei Huan suddenly spoke. “When did you find out who I was?”

Su Buyu’s hand, pouring porridge, froze. The ladle nearly spilled.

“I first suspected during the academy division ceremony.”

“Why?” Wei Huan didn’t understand—he had clearly been assigned to Yansui Academy by Yun Yang. His demon heart hadn’t even awakened at that time. Why would Su Buyu suspect anything?

Su Buyu continued what he hadn’t finished. “That was the first time I saw you after you came back. I didn’t need a reason. I just felt—it was you.”

Later, after hearing that Yun Yongzhou had formed a pact with him, he became completely certain.

Yun Yongzhou wouldn’t have bonded with a human for no reason—unless he was absolutely certain that person was Wei Huan.

Su Buyu suddenly felt his own name was a kind of curse. Buyu, no hesitation—yet he had hesitated too long. He had been the first to meet Wei Huan. The first to recognize him.

Wei Huan didn’t take the porridge. He just asked again, “Have you been to Wuqi?”

Su Buyu set the porridge down and looked him in the eye, calm and direct. “Yes. I’ve been there.”

Wei Huan fell silent. The Dark Witch Princess’s words had been too vague—if Buyu really had sacrificed his mermaid tail or scales as she implied, the offering should’ve transferred to him.

Could sacrificial offerings work on a first-come, first-served basis?

“You…” Wei Huan didn’t know how to begin. The question was too heavy—it was a burden he couldn’t bear. He was afraid that Su Buyu really had made an irreversible sacrifice for him.

“Your mermaid tail… is it still there?”

Su Buyu looked at him with a gentle smile, at those already misting eyes.

“It doesn’t matter anymore.”

That wasn’t the answer he wanted.

“It matters,” Wei Huan gripped his wrist tightly. “You’re a half-mermaid. If you don’t have a tail, what kind of merman are you? Why would you do this? If I couldn’t come back, then so be it.” He didn’t even know how to put it into words. “I—I’m not worth it. Even if I did come back, so what? Look at me—am I even still the same person?”

Su Buyu held his hand in return, smiling tenderly. “Yes, you are.”

“You are you.” A dimple appeared at the corner of his mouth, though bitterness filled his heart.

But what he really wanted to hear was something else.

“As long as you stay by my side, it’s all worth it.”

He knew saying something like that was like tying Wei Huan down, binding his hands and feet. But he couldn’t help it—he was so scared. The guilt in his heart was enough to drown him, but just the thought of those heterochromatic eyes, of Wei Huan standing next to Yun Yongzhou, filled him with dread.

He didn’t want it to be like this either.

There was little expression on Wei Huan’s pale face. He kept his eyes downcast, as if staring at some spot on the bedsheet. After a minute of silence, he finally spoke softly.

“Wasn’t I… always by your side?”

It wasn’t the same.

Su Buyu almost said it aloud but held back at the last second.

You only saw me as your younger brother, someone you had to protect ever since you were a teenager.

But now that I can protect you, why won’t you look at me?

Wei Huan vaguely sensed that Su Buyu was hiding something about the sacrifice, but he knew these things took time to speak about—and he was willing to wait.

“I… I still really want to know what happened to you in Wuqi, or maybe what happened after I died.” He paused. “It’s fine. You can tell me when you’re ready.” He looked up into Su Buyu’s gray-green eyes and gave a reassuring smile. “Seven years ago, I never thought I’d suddenly die like that, leaving you behind. But now that I’ve been given another chance, I’ll stay with you from now on.”

Su Buyu looked at the smile on his face and gave a small laugh of his own, as if mocking himself.

“Mhm.”

He knew very well—Wei Huan would never smile at Yun Yongzhou like that. With everyone else, Wei Huan was a flawless protector, always willing to make sacrifices, always striving to shield those he wished to protect. Compassionate to all, forever the hero.

But only when facing Yun Yongzhou would he lay down his burden and become like a child.

As a bystander, Su Buyu was always clear-headed about the difference in treatment, yet utterly powerless.

Wei Huan had no appetite. After a few spoonfuls of porridge, he said he was sleepy and turned to his side to pretend to sleep. He heard Su Buyu whisper that he suddenly had some official business to attend to and would return soon, but Wei Huan pretended to be asleep and didn’t respond. He also heard the exhausted Jing Yun and Yang Ling finally wake up. They quietly tiptoed around to the bedside. The two crouched there, staring at him. That’s when Wei Huan realized: even with his eyes closed, the Eye of Xihe could still see what was happening in front of him.

The two were whispering to each other, practically mouthing the words, like a pair of silly kids staring at him.

“So Ah Heng is actually the Nine Phoenix…” Jing Yun pushed his glasses up. “No wonder he always acted like that whenever Nine Phoenix was mentioned…”

“What Ah Heng? That’s Brother Huan-Huan.” Yang Ling knocked Jing Yun’s forehead. “You have to call him big brother too—he’s way older than you.”

“I know, but I can’t change the habit so fast…” Jing Yun pouted. “Weren’t you always calling him dumb human, dumb human before?”

Yang Ling suddenly sat up straight. Though her movement was exaggerated, her voice remained low.

“I didn’t know he was Brother Huan-Huan back then! And besides, that was a term of endearment! Do you even get what that means?”

Wei Huan almost couldn’t hold back his laughter.

What a pair of clowns.

When class time arrived, the two left, and Wei Huan was alone in the ward. He opened his eyes, wanting to check on his eyes, but didn’t have much strength. After a glance at his wrist, he summoned a mirror with spirit energy.

His body really couldn’t handle this demonic power. Even summoning a mirror drained him and made his chest ache with a dull, lingering pain. The mirror had a golden hue, hard to see clearly, so Wei Huan turned toward the setting sun for better light.

Sure enough, after the awakening of the Eye of Xihe, the color of his eyes had changed. His left eye was still dark, likely retaining the black of a human eye, but his right eye was now clear and bright.

Amber?

The mirror vanished. Wei Huan unconsciously raised his hand and brushed over his right eye.

He never would have imagined that the eyes he loved so much—Yun Yongzhou’s eyes—would one day become his own. The feeling was strange, indescribable. The more he tried to understand Yun Yongzhou’s reasoning, the clearer and more complicated things became. Clear, because no one gives up their most precious part for no reason. Complicated, because he still couldn’t be sure of anything. Everything felt like a sudden downpour, without warning or explanation.

But Yun Yongzhou had done it.

So…

The ring suddenly lit up. Pulled out of his thoughts, Wei Huan assumed it would be him, but upon checking, it turned out to be Yang Sheng.

“You’re awake?” Yang Sheng spoke first once the call connected. “Turn on your camera, let me see how you are.”

Wei Huan did as told, rubbing his eyes. “Where are you now? Did you catch the rest?”

“Turned them over to the government. Shouldn’t have brought those students—just disbanded them and sent them back to school. I’m heading to your house.” The street behind Yang Sheng was unmistakably from Beiji Tiangui. Wei Huan knew it too well.

“My house? What, for a tour?” Wei Huan sighed, trying to sink back into the covers.

“Well, there used to be the Nine Phoenix barrier there. No one could mess around. But now that the barrier’s broken, I’m worried someone might go stir up trouble. I’m gonna try to set up a new one. Might not be as good as your dad’s, but it’ll hold for a while.”

“Thanks for the trouble.” Wei Huan didn’t have many thoughts on it. “Let it be ruined, then. No one will be living there anymore anyway. I always feel uncomfortable when I go—it’s not like I’ll be visiting often in the future.”

“Don’t say that. It’s your family’s place. Your ancestors fought for that land—nearly a quarter the size of Fuyao. If you really don’t like it, wait till you’re better and tear it down, rebuild it. Speaking of which, after you passed out, I went to check your ancestral tomb. Something weird.”

Hearing that, Wei Huan peeked his head back out. “What is it?”

“I saw your headstone.”

Headstone?

“Is your family’s tradition to set the gravestone before someone dies? Your body wasn’t even there—there’s no way you had a grave.”

Wei Huan frowned slightly in confusion. “After I died… was there a funeral?”

Yang Sheng sighed. “No.” He weighed his words carefully, eyes averting. “You… you know how things were back then. After you were gone, no one could open the Nine Phoenix barrier. Buyu sorted through your belongings from school and said he wanted to make a memorial tomb for you. He came to me then, but I didn’t go. At the time, I also…”

Wei Huan laughed, teasing on purpose, “I know, you stingy guy.” He changed the subject. “Then in that case… about the tombstone at the ancestral grave…”

He tried hard to recall, feeling his memory had gaps. “Oh, I remember now. That tombstone was actually made ahead of time. I was the one who insisted on it. I told my parents I wanted to carve the characters together with them. They couldn’t argue with me, so we did it together.” He couldn’t help but give a bitter laugh. “Didn’t expect we’d leave at nearly the same time.”

“Alright, let’s not talk about it. Just makes you feel worse. I thought someone erected the tombstone after you died, but thinking about it, that’s impossible. No one could get in.” Yang Sheng suddenly thought of something. “Then it all makes sense.”

“What makes sense?”

“Your body. No one’s found it to this day. We’re looking, and the people making those Demon Puppets must be looking too. Maybe they think someone hid your corpse back in the Nine Phoenix ancestral tomb. That might be why they sent Xie Tianfa to your home. If they can find your body, they might be able to copy another successful Xie Tianfa.”

So that was it.

Wei Huan didn’t know what to say. “Did you open up my tombstone?”

“I couldn’t.” Yang Sheng said. “I tried. Probably only someone from Nine Phoenix can open it.”

That made sense. Wei Huan thought he was being silly, forgetting even that. But even if he opened it, there was probably nothing inside anyway.

“Eh?”

Yang Sheng suddenly let out a surprised noise.

Wei Huan looked up at the screen. “What is it?”

“There seems to be a barrier around your house.”

On screen, Yang Sheng was hovering midair, facing the Nine Phoenix residence. It looked like there was nothing there. But when he gathered a purple whirlwind and pushed it forward, it was blocked by an invisible barrier. As the wind swirled outward, golden patterns appeared in streaks across the barrier—like lightning.

Wei Huan suddenly sat up. That was Golden Crow’s demon sigil.

“Looks like I’m late,” Yang Sheng said, arms crossed.

“Is Yun Yongzhou not with you guys?” Wei Huan asked urgently.

“No, his eyes were in bad shape, I told him to go to the hospital.” Yang Sheng thought for a moment. “But he did go with Nine Tails. Said he wanted to escort Xie Tianfa to the underground prison beneath Shanhai. He didn’t trust Nine Tails to do it alone. Not sure if he ever got treatment for his eyes afterward.”

Wei Huan’s heart suddenly started pounding wildly.

“Get some rest. Since he already set things up for you there, you can relax now too.” Yang Sheng traced the edge of the barrier, ready to hang up, but couldn’t help adding one more thing.

“Wei Huan, if not for Yun Yongzhou, you wouldn’t have made it back.” Yang Sheng gave a small smile. “I’ve always wanted to tell you, but I was afraid it’d affect you, so I kept it to myself. You know what kind of person Yun Yongzhou is—he’s always been reckless. Seven years ago, he had already submitted his application—he wanted to go to the front lines.”

Just hearing that made Wei Huan’s heart twist into a knot.

“But when you didn’t come back, about a month later, he changed his mind. Applied to stay in Shanhai as an instructor. The Prime Minister was furious, almost used his authority to override his decision. He gave up both military and political paths. At first, I thought he was traumatized by your death, didn’t want to risk his life anymore.”

“It wasn’t until I found out about the sacrifice that I realized—he didn’t do it out of fear. I was too narrow-minded. Maybe he just…” Yang Sheng let out a breath.

“…was holding onto a hope, hoping to live long enough to see you come back.”

Wei Huan lowered his head. The sunset had already been devoured by the night, plunging the room into deep darkness. Even after Yang Sheng hung up, he didn’t say a word.

He wanted to see him.

That single thought overtook everything in Wei Huan’s heart.

He closed his eyes and tried to sense Yun Yongzhou’s presence.

The scene before him gradually sharpened, every tree and blade of grass intimately familiar. But Wei Huan couldn’t be sure. He frowned and tried again and again to sense it—each time yielding the same result.

Yun Yongzhou was inside the Nine Phoenix residence.

His chest tightened. Gritting his teeth, Wei Huan silently chanted the incantation for the home’s barrier. Even if it risked another blackout, he had to open an entrance. Lacking physical strength, he braced himself on the bedframe and stood up. Taking a deep breath, he stepped into the barrier circle and arrived at the Nine Phoenix residence. The pitch-black night swallowed everything, making the already-damaged place feel even lonelier.

He closed his eyes, trying to sense the presence of light.

Yun Yongzhou was in the sky garden—his favorite place.

Wei Huan’s back ached, making it impossible to summon wings. He had no choice but to lean against the walls, painstakingly climbing the spiral stairs. The staircase had been partially destroyed by Demon Puppets and was unstable. That short stretch of steps felt like an eternity. For the first time since being reborn, he truly resented this weak human body—for holding him back, for making it impossible to reach Yun Yongzhou quickly, cleanly, without delay.

By the time his bare feet touched the grass of the floating garden, he finally saw Yun Yongzhou’s back. The plants here had grown wild from neglect, reaching up to his knees. The grass rustled underfoot, instantly giving away Wei Huan’s presence.

Yun Yongzhou’s sense of vigilance was so keen that before he even turned around, he released countless blades of light—but the next moment, as if realizing something was wrong, the blades fizzled out like shattered fireworks and disappeared into the darkness. He had been fixing the broken hammock, but now turned to look at Wei Huan in astonishment.

The two of them stood about ten meters apart, facing each other in the dark.

Wei Huan wanted to walk toward him, but he truly didn’t have the strength. After two steps, he had to stop and lean against a nearby fruit tree. The place was far too overgrown, the tree thick with mistletoe, bearing clusters of pearl-like white berries, giving off a soft herbal fragrance.

“You and my demon energy drained me—I can’t move,” Wei Huan leaned against the tree trunk, gasping lightly. “Can you come over here?”

Yun Yongzhou hadn’t expected that after the truth was exposed, the first thing Wei Huan would say to him would be this. He was a little stunned, like he had suddenly turned back into that clueless eighteen-year-old boy. He put down the hammock and walked toward Wei Huan step by step.

Each step rustled, as if treading directly on Wei Huan’s heart. Yun Yongzhou was still in his full demon form. His long silver hair looked like it was woven from moonlight, glowing faintly in the dark. Wei Huan was at least glad that he had gone to the hospital—his left eye was covered by a white gauze patch, giving him a fragile, cold aura.

“Why did you come here?”

Wei Huan looked up. “Shouldn’t I be the one asking that?”

Yun Yongzhou stayed silent.

Seeing his silence, Wei Huan hesitated again. He’d been uneasy for days, and thought today would bring some relief—but clearly not. He still kept turning over in his mind what he should say, what he should ask. The rabbit in his heart started bouncing around again at the worst possible moment, restless and noisy.

“I…” Wei Huan’s Adam’s apple bobbed in panic. “I have so many questions I wanted to ask you. I woke up and you weren’t there—everyone else was…”

He was going to say except you, but it sounded too much like he was whining, so he swallowed the words. “When… when did you find out I was Wei Huan? You must’ve known long ago, right? I bet you didn’t tell me just to watch me make a fool of myself.” He already talked too much, and now he was nervous, so he talked even faster. “Did you only form a pact with me because you knew I was Nine Phoenix? Why? You—you didn’t even like me that much, did you? I don’t get it. I thought I did. At least I thought I understood myself. But now it feels like I don’t, not even a little, I’m just getting more confused—”

“Just to be clear, I’m not calling you stupid, but what were you thinking? Your most precious thing is the Xihe Eye—there’s only one pair in the entire demon realm! Why would you sacrifice that? Are you crazy?” He didn’t know what was happening, but he was getting angrier and angrier, his words coming faster and sharper. “Those are your eyes! They’re not fingernails, they don’t grow back! Now you’re just a cyclops—a cyclops golden crow, d*mn it! I really don’t get it. You used to ignore me, act all cold, and I was the one who—who…”

He almost let it slip and slammed on the brakes, face tilting up. “Yun Yongzhou, just tell me—why would you go that far, sacrifice something so important—”

He didn’t get to finish the question.

Everything he’d wanted to ask, everything he’d waited to hear, was sealed beneath the mistletoe in a sudden kiss.

His eyes widened. His mind went blank. Yun Yongzhou’s face was inches away, too close in the dark. The kiss came out of nowhere, like a firework no one saw coming—explosive, wild, overwhelming. Forceful, wet, irresistible. A fireball crushed in the wind.

Wei Huan closed his eyes and thought:

This soul that had wandered the edge of death for years—finally came back to life in this kiss.