Deviant: No Longer Human

Tianjin, Qing Dynasty.

Xiaogang Coastline, Haihe Estuary Sector, 2:47 A.M.

Nestled just southeast of the Tianjin city core, where the shinning skyscrapers of Binhai fade into the salt-rusted mist of the Haihe River delta, there lay a forgotten stretch of shoreline, "Xiaogang Village".

Once a sleepy fishing district near the 'Dagu Fort Ruins', the area had been scheduled for urban demolition long ago, part of the government's aggressive post-2025 development plan to build luxury marina residences along the Bohai Sea.

But that was before the Great Reset.

The extinction.

Half the world's population gone, and with them, their dreams of cranes, glass towers, and endless economic zones. Resources dried up. Plans died in folders. Bulldozers rusted in the mud.

Now, the coastal settlement remained, unwanted by progress, untouched by time.

The geography here was peculiar. The Haihe River, after winding through Tianjin like a silver vein, emptied into the Bohai Sea. Where it met the ocean, the land broke into a marshy delta, waterlogged flats, sinking wooden piers, and whispering reeds taller than men.

The old settlement huddled behind a sea wall that had long since cracked. Streets were little more than cobbled stone paths, filled with moss. Iron railings along the road bore the ocean's corrosion like barnacle scars. Small houses, built in the Jinzhong-style of late-Qing brickwork and curved black tiles, leaned against one another like tired elders, sharing warmth to survive the wind.

Street names faded on blue enamel signs:

Shuangliu Alley – "Twin Willows Alley"

Laogang Street – "Old Harbor Street"

Fengqi Lane – "Where the Wind Rests"

And in the heart of it all, just above the rocky shoreline, was one house still occupied. Its shoji-like doors were mismatched wood. A flickering amber lamp glowed from inside.

A chime swayed at the eaves, clinking softly, etched with the word:

缘 – Yuan [Fate.]

As the cargo ships passed in silence, lit like drifting cities upon black waters, one figure moved in shadow, unseen by radar, unknown to the world.

Wang Xiao stood atop the seawall, gaze fixed on the glowing house near the broken jetty. His presence was like a phantom etched into the mist, quiet, patient, unnatural.

The seaside wind rustled his coat.

His eyes flickered, a faint glow passed across his pupils as he scanned the interior of the building. The vision passed through wooden walls like fog.

He frowned.

"...Fu Chao?"

Inside, the grown-up version of Fu Yuxin's brother slept on a lopsided mattress. Years had passed, he looked older now, his once sharp features mellowed with responsibility. His arm curled over a woman—round-faced, clean, plain. Not ugly. Not beautiful. Just... neutral.

Wang Xiao squinted. "Is that his wife?"

He tilted his head in amusement.

For a moment, he considered giving the man a green hat as a souvenir, a way to say hello. But after a glance at the woman, the idea dropped from his mind like a stone into water.

"Ugly wife, peaceful life," he muttered with a dry chuckle.

It made sense. Why else would so many men flaunt goddesses outside while marrying scarecrows at home? It was a self-defense mechanism. A ward against predators like him.

Wang Xiao smirked and turned his gaze upward.

The second floor's window was ajar, just enough.

The sea breeze slipped through the opening. So did he.

A gentle sound, like silk brushing wood. He landed inside without a sound, knees slightly bent, eyes scanning the room.

There was the mattress, laid directly on the wooden floor, minimalist and domestic.

Two forms rested over it.

One was curled into the blanket, seeking warmth from the cold sea air.

The other?

The blanket was halfway kicked across the room, the perpetrator lying like a tiny demon lord in repose.

Zhenxi.

Six years old, and already a menace.

Wang Xiao walked closer and crouched beside her, brushing aside a strand of unruly hair.

"…Doesn't feel cold, huh?"

The girl's features puzzled him.

She had big eyes, unnaturally aborable, almost doll-like. They didn't resemble Lin Xue at all. Lin Xue had sharper, sultry features. Zhenxi's face? Wide-eyed innocence mixed with dangerous potential.

It was familiar.

Too familiar.

"Lila?" Wang Xiao blinked, his mouth twitching.

He had slept with Lila, an ex-idol-turned-reporter, shortly after returning from the Graveyard of Gods. The resemblance was uncanny, especially those eyes. But... It wasn't Lila's child.

No. The blood matched Lin Xue.

Then why…?

His fingers hovered near the girl's forehead, tracing the imprint gently.

"Definitely Lin Xue's," he confirmed. "Definitely mine."

He stood up, hands in pockets, expression unreadable.

"…So what am I missing?"

In the end, Wang Xiao decided to let the little menace grow up and discover the truth on her own.

He exhaled softly and shifted his weight, slipping under the blanket beside them.

Zhenxi frowned in her sleep, her tiny body twitching as if disturbed by the sudden invasion of warmth. Her eyes fluttered open, catching a glimpse of him beside her.

For a split second, surprise lit her face.

Then, she turned around, away from him, and pulled the blanket higher like a guilty little fox, pretending to sleep once more.

Her ears twitched.

Wang Xiao narrowed his eyes.

"…I can see the back of your head too, you know."

She didn't flinch, just adjusted the blanket with exaggerated innocence.

He sighed. "Fine..."

A creak escaped from the old floorboards beneath him. The weight of his body settled like a silent declaration.

Fu Yuxin stirred.

Her face was turned slightly away, hair cascading over the pillow like spilled ink. A dark tank top hugged her upper body, exposing long stretches of soft white skin, smooth and faintly flushed from warmth.

She must've showered before sleep, there was a crisp fresh fragrance like dew on petals.

The dim lighting only enhanced her outline, the quiet rise and fall of her chest, the subtle creaminess of her collarbone traced between the valley of her breasts.

Her curvy lashes fluttered faintly with each breath, her lips relaxed into a light, unguarded pout.

Strange, he thought.

This woman, her body now beside his, Once... Senior by six years. Bright. Sharp-tongued. The kind who'd scold you for using the wrong pen color in math notes. And yet...

He blinked slowly.

He'd definitely smacked her a decade ago.

Quite literally.

Back when he had no powers. Just recklessness, and a body that hadn't yet learned the weight of consequence.

"Achievement?... Huh..." he whispered to himself, eyes gleaming with amused guilt.

He was, back then, almost one foot in jail.

Funny, how life's near-misses feel like milestones in hindsight.

Fu Yuxin didn't stir.

And that's what made it worse.

There was now a hand resting on her waist, his fingers unconsciously tracing the bend of her hip beneath the thin cloth.

Her warmth soaked into his palm.

He could wake her up.

He should, probably.

But where was the fun in that?

There was something irresistibly wicked about harassing a girl slowly while she slept, without waking her, the way her body tensed slightly, unconsciously reacting to a touch she hadn't yet realized was real.

Because of this habit, so many women had gotten heart attacks.

Today, it seemed, it was Fu Yuxin's turn.

Two bodies lay beneath the blanket, one tossing slightly, restless.

Sneaky fingers moved like whispers, lifting the edge of her pajama bottoms ever so slowly, revealing the soft, warm flesh underneath.

Steamy heat radiated from her thighs, trapped for hours inside the thick fabric. As his fingers slid along the tender skin, a shiver passed through her sleeping body.

"…mnnh…"

A soft sound escaped her lips, half dream, half instinct.

His other hand slipped beneath her dark tank top, skin brushing skin. The fabric rose just enough for his palm to cup one of her breasts, warm and plush, the nipple already responding to his touch with a faint, stubborn hardness.

He rolled it between two fingers, slow… deliberate… until he could feel the tension in them.

"… mmn… stop… n-not there…"

Her voice was a sleepy murmur, a confused flutter of lashes beneath closed lids.

She squirmed slightly, dreamy.

His fingertips slid down again, brushing between her closed, tight and moist lower lips, slow, measured strokes. The heat was unbearable down there, a humid warmth that throbbed against his touch, sticky and soft.

She whimpered. "…ahh…"

Her legs shifted, squeezing shut for a second, then slowly parting.

Fu Yuxin's brows knitted tighter, her mouth parting slightly, breath shallowing.

Her body was fully awake now, even if her mind wasn't.

That's when her eyes fluttered open, dark lashes lifting to reveal dilated pupils and sheer horror.

"Wha—mmph!"