Fusheng sat up abruptly, only then remembering that he had forgotten something. His best friend, Fusheng, who had accompanied him for a hundred years—he could forget anyone, but it was impossible for him to forget his old buddy.
Pity that he hadn't followed him over. Fusheng was already dying to see him, a bubbling resentment raging in his heart, faintly threatening to spin out of control.
Fusheng looked around. This ward was like a nursery, stocked with everything one could possibly want. He would make him a brand-new body.
Tendrils of dark red resentment overflowed and whipped through the air. Fusheng used the dark red energy to tear away the bandage hindering his right hand, revealing skin that was fair and completely intact. Fusheng lifted his eyelids and clicked his tongue.
Given the medical standards of the Zerg, burns like these should have healed long ago, yet they still wrapped them in gauze this thick.
This must be one of Cohen's little tricks to fool a young Zerg, making the little Zerg believe he was so badly hurt that he would never dare do anything so dangerous again.
Fusheng looked at the scraps of cloth scattered on the floor, the corners of his mouth lifting in smug triumph. He wasn't going to fall for that.
Skipping over the low stool, Fusheng hopped up onto the meter-high table, burying himself in colorful construction paper and laughing uncontrollably.
Picking up the scissors beside him, Fusheng began to cut out paper dolls.
With so many colorful papers, this one would definitely look much better than the ones made from plain white paper in the past, not to mention there were watercolor pens here as well.
Fusheng brandished the scissors excitedly, the dark red resentment dancing through the air with his hand, then wrapping around the blade and infusing itself into the paper doll.
With practiced movements, Fusheng quickly fashioned a paper doll half an arm's length tall. He loved the riotous colors; it was just as pretty as the paper dolls he used to snatch from wealthy ghosts.
If some blind ghost had brought their little paper doll to show off in front of him—back when he first became a ghost—he definitely would have been jealous. Wanting to snatch it but unable to win a fight, he could only have hidden in a corner with wide-eyed stares.
Later on, he grew powerful, but still nobody burned paper dolls for him. He didn't know how long he had waited, but there were still none.
Later still, he learned how to cut them out himself. If anyone tried to flaunt the paper dolls their grandson burned for them then, he wouldn't feel envious anymore; he would simply have Fusheng ruthlessly tear their paper dolls to shreds.
From then on, whenever Fusheng saw a paper doll, he would chase after it and rip it to pieces without needing Fusheng to tell him twice.
Fusheng always felt something was missing. He stared at the bedsheet and smiled knowingly.
Wielding his scissors, he slashed across the bedsheet, cut away the black lining to make a black scholar's hat and a white lantern, so that A-Sheng wouldn't be afraid of the dark.
Finally, Fusheng even took apart the pillow, and the fluffy white feathers were just right for a pair of wings—doing as the locals did, so to speak.
The Zerg all had wings, but unfortunately he was a Zerg (male/dominant morph) and didn't have any. The thought made the sourness bubble up in his heart again.
Looking at the little paper doll holding a white lantern, wearing a black top hat, a brightly patterned green robe, and large white feathered wings, Fusheng smiled with satisfaction.
He declared that his paper doll was the prettiest in the entire world, and none of the other ghosts' could compare.
Thinking of this, Fusheng couldn't help grinning from ear to ear, hugging the paper doll and letting out cackling laughs.
In the hospital room, the sheets and duvet covers had been torn into shreds and scattered across the floor. The pillow stuffing's feathers drifted in the air, seemingly too afraid to land after hearing Fusheng's unearthly shrieks.
The chair by the table was missing a leg and lay overturned, surrounded by wood shavings and paper scraps.
Fusheng had already turned it into the paper doll's skeleton.
When Alvano returned, this was the scene that greeted him: Fusheng sitting on the table, hugging things and shrieking wildly, the room in absolute chaos.
He stood frozen in the doorway, not knowing what to say. Should he ask Fusheng what had happened? But he was afraid of startling the cackling Fusheng.
He had no idea what had gone on in this ward; Fusheng had been so well-behaved before he left.
Right now, his head was more of a mess than this room, and he had only been gone for two standard hours.
The military female at the door hadn't reacted either, which meant Fusheng hadn't made any major commotions inside, just quietly wreaking havoc.
Hearing the movement at the door, Fusheng turned around holding the paper doll, looked at Alvano, and cheerfully waved at him.
Only when Alvano walked closer did he realize that Fusheng was holding a brightly colored Zerg paper doll—or so he thought, with some uncertainty.
The Zerg had long since evolved beyond their primitive forms, referring to their physical shapes as people, so both "people" and "Zerg" could be used interchangeably to describe themselves.
He could tell it was a Zerg only from the pair of strange wings. Looking closer, he found a sense of indescribable eeriness to this paper doll; he had never seen one look so bizarre, and the clothes were strange too.
The green-and-yellow patterned long robe was dotted with large red paper flowers, the white paper face was daubed with two abrupt patches of vibrant crimson, the doll's mouth was curved into an uncanny arc, it wore a tall black hat with two long strips sticking out horizontally from the sides, and it held a white lantern in its hand.
"Alvano, look quickly, how is it?" Fusheng held the paper doll high up in front of Alvano, looking pleased and excited.
"Uh... it's very nice. It's the prettiest paper doll I've ever seen, better than the stuffed toys in the shops." Faced with the direct impact of the paper doll, Alvano felt it looked even more eerie and sinister. His voice faltered for a moment before he began talking utter nonsense with a deadpan expression.
He never would have expected his tyrannical lord husband to like paper dolls as well; he truly still had a childlike innocence.
"Such a pretty Zerg (female/non-dominant morph)." Alvano looked at Fusheng's eager expression waiting for praise, and then exclaimed.
Though he said this out loud, internally he was silently complaining: whose Zerg (female/non-dominant morph) looks like this? Try not to terrify people quite so much.
If he hadn't served as a military female and weren't naturally bold, if this were swapped for a timid sub-Zerg, they probably would have burst into tears on the spot.
Looking at the black-haired, black-eyed paper doll, Alvano remembered that Fusheng's grandfather seemed to be arranging for a distant relative from his own family to become Fusheng's primary consort.
That Zerg (female/non-dominant morph) supposedly had black hair and black eyes. The males of the Kris family all had black hair and black eyes, while very few of the females did, so their family had a particular fondness for black.
Could this paper doll be the one he was betrothed to? He certainly had a rather unique appearance.
Indeed, Fusheng was already of age and could consider taking a primary consort.
These weren't things he should be worrying about anyway; he was merely Fusheng's secondary spouse. If Fusheng wished, he could take countless secondary spouses just like his fuer.
"He is not a Zerg (female/non-dominant morph)." Hearing this, Fusheng stroked the paper doll in his hands with satisfaction and immediately denied it.
Yet Fusheng didn't know what the little paper doll was either. It was neither Zerg nor human, nor even a ghost; it had simply been nourished by Fusheng's resentment, named Fusheng, with the nickname A-Sheng.
He had given the paper doll this name at the time because this little paper doll was always mimicking his speech—or perhaps deep down, Fusheng understood that no one else kept him company, and for a hundred years he had only been keeping himself company after all.
He had never encountered a ghost who lived longer than he did; the ghosts around him could stay with him for three months at most before heading off one after another to be reincarnated. Batch after batch of little ghosts cycled through his surroundings, but he never saw himself leave. Even his own underlings couldn't be made to stay; they were all rushing off to reincarnation, and he couldn't stop them.
So he had cut out the little paper doll A-Sheng to stay with him always.
Alvano lowered his gaze and didn't press further, assuming he had pierced through Fusheng's inner thoughts.
"He is my friend, Fusheng," Fusheng gestured toward the paper doll, introducing it to his underling.
"Fusheng?" Alvano asked, somewhat puzzled. A female friend? Males never deigned to make friends with females; their statuses were inherently unequal.
Only the males of the Kris family were slightly better, but judging from his observations over the past half month, Fusheng was not that kind of male. Even though his mind had somehow gone wrong now, his core nature wouldn't change.