Chapter Twenty-Nine: Human Desire

“Not even able to eat excrement—now that would truly be an unimaginable world!” Upon hearing Li Qingshui’s words, Liu Chang lifted an empty bowl and filled it to the brim for the little girl.

“Come, let’s raise a toast to the fact that we still have dung to eat!”

“You really have a crude sense of humor,” the fat man sighed softly from the side, then helped himself to a bowl as well.

The three of them took their bowls in turn, each bringing the bowl to their nose to sniff the scent of vegetable soup. As one, they all furrowed their brows.

A moment later, it was the little girl who first summoned the courage to take a sip. As the thick soup touched her lips, her already pale face drained of what little color remained, but she forced herself to swallow, her cheeks quivering. After the first mouthful, she seemed to register the taste, and, much like a patient downing bitter medicine, pinched her nose and began gulping down the soup and vegetables together, hoping to shorten the time of her suffering as much as possible.

Seeing the little girl drink like this, Zhu Lin seemed to want to imitate her. She pinched her nose, drew a deep breath, and, holding her breath, gulped down several mouthfuls of the vegetable broth. But the moment the soup filled her stomach, her bowl crashed to the floor with a clatter, followed by the violent sounds of retching.

The vegetable broth she had just swallowed, mixed with bile, spewed from her mouth and nostrils, making the already unpleasant dormitory air even fouler.

“Sorry,” Zhu Lin apologized after vomiting, wiping her mouth and glancing apologetically at the other four. Then, looking weak and unsteady, she clutched her stomach, took up the dormitory broom, and began cleaning up her own mess.

After watching the others’ reactions, the fat man summoned his courage and took a tentative sip from his bowl, but quickly decided against continuing.

“I can’t do it,” he said, setting the bowl aside, “I just can’t stomach it.”

“Such fragile people,” Li Qingshui remarked, making no effort to force them to eat. He finished his own bowl in silence, then set down his chopsticks and closed his eyes in thought.

Liu Chang said nothing either. He quietly finished his bowl and then went on to eat the remaining vegetable soup from the pot.

Afterward, a strange warmth spread through his belly, and the stench in his mouth seemed less intense—the agony of humanity, no matter its nature, ceases to be agony once the worst has passed. The human body, after all, is highly evolved. Suffering beyond a certain threshold causes the brain to sever its connection with the body—what we call fainting. But if, under special circumstances, fainting is not possible, pain gradually dulls after the worst wave, and, for some, might even transform into a perverse kind of pleasure.

Humans, truly, are remarkable creatures.

So too was Liu Chang. After drinking a bellyful of foul liquid, the only sensation left was the warmth in his stomach. He no longer felt hungry; in fact, he felt comfortable.

“How can you eat so much of that stuff?” Zhu Lin asked, looking at Liu Chang in awe, her pallor tinged with admiration. “I couldn’t get a single bite down.”

“Once you get past the first mouthful, it’s not so bad,” Liu Chang replied honestly.

“But I can’t even get through the first mouthful.”

“Oh, you’ll get through it. I’ll bet you that after three days—maybe even sooner—you’ll be able to eat this, and you’ll think it tastes delicious,” Li Qingshui said, opening his eyes and smiling. “Humans have never been a pampered species. The desire for food overrides everything.”

“I don’t believe it. I’d rather die than eat that,” Zhu Lin retorted. “I’d rather die than put that in my mouth.”

“You say that only because you’ve never known true hunger,” Li Qingshui replied. “Those who have lived through famine know how terrifying the craving for food can be. Sexual desire is an offshoot of the survival instinct; hunger, the urge for food, is that instinct in its purest form. In fact, the need for food far outweighs that for sex. The torment of hunger is a thousand times worse than the pangs of lust.

“A truly hungry person’s craving for food is ten times stronger than a person’s sexual desire when dosed with the strongest aphrodisiac. The latter won’t let a potential mate go, but the former—if it can be swallowed, it will be eaten, no matter what. In the hunger-ridden eras of the past, people ate bark and dirt; it was commonplace. When faced with starvation, even poison is considered if it means filling the belly.” As he spoke, Li Qingshui lay back on his bunk and closed his eyes again. “So I won’t force you to eat anything today. But by tomorrow, or the day after at the latest, you’ll have to.”

With that, Li Qingshui closed his eyes again, clearly someone who knew how to conserve his energy.

Liu Chang did likewise, lying down beside the girl and shutting his eyes. Though his stomach was now full of vegetable soup, it was nothing more than a watery fullness—no carbohydrates, no protein, no real energy to replenish what his body needed.

So, when it came to physical strength, any bit that could be saved had to be saved. This was the key to survival.

With Li Qingshui and Liu Chang closing their eyes, the little girl curled up silently beside Liu Chang. The fat man and Zhu Lin, chastened by Li Qingshui’s words, fell quiet as well. Their corner of the room lapsed into silence.

Elsewhere in the dormitory, the two other families remained wordless. One had just suffered a death, and with no way to seek justice, the stifling atmosphere left them unable to speak, save for the occasional venomous glare cast toward Liu Chang and his group.

The other family was in even direr straits. Both of the elderly members seemed ill; hunger, sleeping on the floor, extreme stress, and their advanced age had given them a sickly look. Their daughter had given up her bed, letting the two elders squeeze into a single cot as she quietly tended to them.

Liu Chang, sleeping at their feet, was fully aware of the situation but had no intention of giving up his bed. In this world, he could barely fend for himself. He’d learned today just how hard it was to find food, to hunt prey, to survive. Lying on a relatively soft bed was the only thing that could help him regain his strength. And strength meant survival; he couldn’t afford to give that chance to someone else—not even those pitiable old folks on the brink of death.

And so it was.

Three “families,” eleven people, one room.

Silence fell.

Night descended in utter stillness. Anyone familiar with the law of the jungle knew the dangers of the night were tenfold those of the day—no one dared venture out at such an hour.

Casting one last glance at the black-red world outside the window, Liu Chang closed his eyes, pulled the little girl into his arms, and slowly drifted into sleep.

“Will you go hunting with me tomorrow, Teacher?”

“Mm.”

That was the last exchange in the silent room.