NOVEL NEXT Ch. 12
Chapter 12: An Unexpected Encounter
After Bai Lengci tried everything edible and drinkable at home, she found that none of it could be eaten.
After conducting a round of self-examination and recording, she realized it was already three in the morning.
She washed up and went to bed.
The next morning, Bai Lengci got up early to test her physical condition.
She looked at the clear numbers on the scale: 61.0 kg.
She remembered her original weight had been 56 kg.
She had gained 5 kilograms.
This weight gain did not show on her appearance.
She lifted her shirt.
The originally flat and even slightly thin abdomen was now covered with clear, firm muscle lines.
She frowned and noted down in her open notebook: 【Weight: 61kg (original 56kg)】.
Then, she walked to the middle of the living room and leaned down, supporting herself on the floor.
Push-ups.
In the past, ten had been her limit, her arms sore and weak, panting heavily.
Now.
One, two… ten, twenty…
Her joints had no stiffness at all.
Thirty, forty… her breathing still steady.
Not until the eightieth push-up did she finally feel a slight soreness in her arms and shoulders.
She stood up, not out of breath, only her chest rising and falling steadily.
Picking up her pen, she added in the notebook: 【Basic stamina: Push-ups 80 times (slight fatigue)】.
Most of her body’s changes were positive, and her physical recovery was also very quick.
But what Bai Lengci could not set aside was the eating problem.
She was very sure that her body was not suffering from malnutrition or lack of energy.
This state she was in was not simply psychological.
But could just that little bit of chicken blood really provide so much energy?
Had her stomach undergone such a drastic mutation that it could extract enough energy for several days’ consumption from just that little bit of chicken blood?
Bai Lengci tidied herself up, tightened her coat, and pushed the door open into the gloomy early winter morning.
There was no sunlight, only gray weather.
The air was chilly, and it made her skin feel comfortable.
At the street corner, she bought soy milk, fried dough sticks, steamed buns, and plain buns.
The steaming food released a once-familiar fragrance.
Finding a secluded spot, she picked up the still-hot soy milk and took a sip.
A few seconds later, a wave of repulsion surged up.
She braced herself against the wall, vomiting all the soy milk into the trash can, her stomach spasming.
Fried dough sticks, buns, plain buns… all had the same result.
She turned and entered a large supermarket.
Pushing a shopping cart, her gaze swept across the shelves.
Meat section, beverage section, fresh produce section… she selected a variety of ingredients: carbonated drinks, chocolate, raw steak, fresh eggs, black coffee powder… and a live chicken.
Back home, she immediately carried a stool into the bathroom.
Expressionless, she began trying them one by one.
Milk—vomited as soon as it entered her mouth.
Cola—vomited as soon as it entered her mouth.
Sliced bread—chewed a few times, spat out.
…
An hour later, the bathroom was filled with the sour, rotten stench of mixed foods.
Bai Lengci wiped her mouth with a damp towel, looking at the pile of opened food packaging in front of her, all almost intact but spat out.
Only three things were set aside separately in an empty spot:
A cup of brewed pure black coffee without sugar or milk.
Drinking it caused no rejection.
A small piece of boiled beef.
Plain, but her body did not react strongly.
A boiled egg (she ate only the egg white).
After swallowing it, there was only slight discomfort in her stomach, no vomiting.
Bai Lengci’s gaze swept back and forth between these three items and the mess scattered all over the floor.
“Sugar…”
She murmured softly, suddenly thinking of the body’s main energy source.
Milk, juice, bread, biscuits, chocolate… all the things her body had violently rejected contained large amounts of sugar or carbohydrates.
And these three things her body barely accepted contained almost no sugar.
This discovery did not solve the fundamental problem.
The energy provided by such little food was like a drop in the bucket.
Moreover, what her body craved deep down was not caffeine or protein.
It was the “thirst” for blood.
She looked at the half-finished cup of black coffee.
This discovery was better than nothing.
Noticing it was already afternoon, Bai Lengci cleaned up the bathroom.
She planned to go to Mr. Yu’s place tomorrow to check some materials.
Dinner was a cup of chicken blood.
After finishing it, Bai Lengci went to sleep.
This time, she was not forcibly knocked unconscious.
She guessed it might have something to do with her body’s condition.
The night passed without incident.
At nine o’clock, Bai Lengci tightened her dark coat, tucked her face deeper into the raised collar, and set out for the Jiangcheng Academy of Social Sciences.
Half an hour later, the majestic building of the Academy appeared in view, just as imposing as ever.
It occupied a large stretch of what was now considered central area, thanks to the land it had claimed when the place was still barren.
This was not Bai Lengci’s first visit.
She walked the familiar main road lined with neatly trimmed trees, then turned into a quiet path.
On both sides of the path were tall trees whose names she could not call.
After about ten minutes, a stone bridge spanned over an artificial canal.
Crossing the bridge and walking two more minutes, a solitary villa by the lakeside came into view.
The villa’s style was somewhat peculiar.
Its main structure had traditional Chinese eaves, but also obvious traces of Western columns and arched windows.
It bore the mark of an era when scholars widely absorbed “foreign flair,” a time when everything foreign was considered better, leaving behind this architectural hybrid.
The black wrought-iron gate of the courtyard was open, and inside, a black Maybach rested quietly.
Bai Lengci’s gaze lingered for a moment on that expensive machine.
In truth, she still longed for a life of comfort, but that longing was not for vanity.
It was for the ultimate sense of being served, of being cared for in every detail, that carefree feeling of “someone carrying you out the door.”
She ascended the long, wide stone steps, one by one.
Reaching the heavy dark wooden door, she raised her hand and rang the doorbell.
“Ding-dong—ding-dong—”
The sound of the bell echoed clearly in the silent courtyard.
A few seconds later, faint footsteps came from inside.
Then, the lock turned, and the heavy wooden door slowly opened a crack.
A finely sculpted face appeared from behind the door.
If Bai Lengci had to describe it, she could only borrow Cao Zhi’s *Rhapsody on the Goddess of the Luo River*:
Graceful as a startled swan, supple as a swimming dragon, brilliant as autumn chrysanthemums, luxuriant as spring pines.
As if light clouds veiled the moon, as if drifting snow swirled in the wind.
Seen from afar, radiant like the rising sun in morning glow; observed up close, dazzling like a lotus rising from clear waters.
Only such poetry, beautiful to the extreme, could describe a beauty this stunning to the extreme.