Chapter 5#
Picked Up to Make Soup#
Across from the parking lot, through the swaying shadows of trees, the buildings of Rongsen Medical Research Center stood tall, overlooking the earth.
The top floor of the building was brightly lit. The large floor-to-ceiling windows, specially replaced for natural light, had been treated with privacy film, allowing only vague silhouettes to show through.
This was the only VIP ward at Nanshan Hospital, covering over 300 square meters. It was not open to the public, reserved for one person only.
The privileged class invites criticism, but when it came to this person’s identity, everyone was absolutely convinced—because the Rongsen Group had donated over 1.5 billion yuan to public medical charities in Maocheng over the years.
Maocheng had many distinguished families, but few were as generous and wealthy as this one.
The suite was quiet and elegant. The caregivers coming and going wore shoes with silent soles, moving almost soundlessly, which highlighted the faint sound of a brush gliding smoothly over paper.
Shen Yubo pushed the door open and came in. Seeing Rong Yu wielding the brush, his strokes powerful enough to penetrate the paper, he stood aside to admire.
There was no flamboyance of one in a high position; instead, the style was steady and solid. The beginning and ending of each stroke concealed sharp edges, very much matching the impression Rong Yu, as head of the Rong family, gave people.
But Rong Yu himself wasn’t entirely satisfied. After examining it for a moment, he commented, “Too restless.”
Then he instructed the butler to throw it all into the trash.
He removed the paper and ink, revealing a tablet hidden underneath. As his finger brushed past, the standby screen lit up for a moment, pausing on a neatly compiled document.
Shen Yubo glanced over discreetly without changing expression, feeling that the person in the photo looked somewhat familiar. It seemed like an entrepreneur he had heard of before, surnamed He, with a name like He something-sheng.
Such a minor figure might have business dealings with Rongsen Group’s subsidiaries, but would never have any direct connection with Rong Yu himself.
Shen Yubo was curious why Rong Yu had suddenly taken an interest in the He family. But he couldn’t ask, and didn’t have the courage to ask.
Shen Yubo was young and accomplished—a thirty-two-year-old chief physician, a leading authority in organ regeneration and transplantation. Among the many distinguished families, he was one of the few qualified to speak in front of Rong Yu.
The entire Shen family, thanks to this connection, had gained much face in the circle, their status rising accordingly.
The Rongsen Technology Group led by Rong Yu spanned industries including healthcare, pharmaceuticals, bioengineering, and health-focused intelligent bionic robots. It was the cornerstone of the local economy, representing half of the government’s fiscal revenue.
Many people depended on his favor, hoping to get even a sip of soup from the Rong family and rise to greatness in the future.
Even though Shen Yubo was usually a favored son of heaven, free and unrestrained, at this moment he was respectful. He took his hands out of his white coat pockets and called out:
“Uncle Rong, I’m here to do your examination.”
From the generational standpoint, Rong Yu was indeed his elder.
In terms of age, even more so.
“Alright,” Rong Yu’s gaze was very calm. “Do I still need to lie down?”
“It’s best to lie down, so I can observe the recovery of your lower limb function more easily.”
He dismissed the other attendants in the room. Rong Yu stopped the butler’s helping gesture with a look, then pushed himself up with both arms and moved from the wheelchair to the hospital bed.
“Done.”
Only after receiving permission did Shen Yubo approach, carefully lifting the blanket covering Rong Yu’s legs.
He rolled up the right pant leg, revealing a shocking sight. The flesh there was not as full as a normal person’s, nor was it the limb atrophy of an ordinary disabled person. Instead, it presented a terrifying withered form, like wood lacking water.
Shen Yubo pressed and lifted his leg to test his recovery.
Then he checked the left side.
He started examining from above the knee. Below the knee, where the shinbone should have been, it was unfortunately missing.
Or rather, lost.
How it was lost, where it was lost, what happened—the Rong family was tight-lipped about it.
Even Shen Yubo, the attending physician, could only guess that Rong Yu’s disability was related to the immense suffering he had endured for a long time as a pure-blood plant-type variant human.
In Shen Yubo’s impression:
Rong Yu was a person deep and ancient, like a towering tree that blocked out the sky—people only saw its lushness, but not the decay rooted beneath.
However, Rong Yu’s mindset was rather indifferent.
Not only did he not care in the least who had picked up his leg bone, he even joked with Shen Yubo:
“Maybe someone picked it up and made soup with it.”
Shen Yubo clicked his tongue inwardly, thinking: using the head of the Rong family as wuzhimaotou to brew soup would definitely be very nourishing and good for the spleen.
Lost in thought, the examination was finally complete.
Shen Yubo, as last time, maintained his opinion:
“Uncle Rong, your condition isn’t optimistic. Even with the most top-tier medications, the rate of flesh withering hasn’t been effectively controlled.”
“If possible, I hope you’d consider using natural hormone therapy to activate the repair cells in your body. That would be more effective than medication alone.”
But Rong Yu’s attitude was, as before, the same.
His calm, water-like eyes slightly narrowed. “Natural hormone therapy would require finding an omega to draw quite a bit of blood, wouldn’t it?”
“In principle, yes…”
Of course, with the omega’s consent, saliva and other bodily fluids could also be used.
“For the sake of my minor ailment, there’s no need to sacrifice the health of a healthy person.”
Rong Yu said lightly, not agreeing.
Shen Yubo: “Actually, it wouldn’t be a sacrifice. You could provide sufficient financial compensation.”
He casually cited an example he had heard. “The Chen family had this plan for their old master who is bedridden with paralysis. It’s said they’ve already found a suitable omega and are negotiating terms.”
Rong Yu frowned slightly. “Chen Kangshi is spending money to buy an omega to treat his father?”
“Can’t say buy… they’d probably give a title.”
But who would want to be the nominal wife of a seventy-year-old man? Obviously, the omega was likely desperate or forced by family.
Rong Yu’s face showed nothing, but a faint, almost imperceptible disgust flickered in his eyes.
In a moment, Chen Kangshi and a string of Chen-family names lined up clearly in his mind, then were crossed into a blacklist.
To avoid disturbing Rong Yu, Shen Yubo didn’t stay long.
“Uncle Rong, rest well.”
“Mm.”
Shen Yubo turned and left, glimpsing Rong Yu lighting up the tablet again. The screen light illuminated the alpha’s calm profile as he stared intently at a photo that was clearly a group portrait of the He family.
As Shen Yubo went downstairs, he received a call from his mother, urging him to go home for dinner.
The cold wind blew in his face, bringing a piercing chill. At that moment, he suddenly remembered the full name of the young boss of the He family.
It was He Yusheng.
It seemed his wife had mentioned at Shen’s mother’s banquet that she wanted to marry a child into the Chen family.
But the He family had two young masters.
As for which one was to be married, he hadn’t caught that.
·
The Donghua Community in the lower city—called a residential complex, but in reality it was just three old buildings squeezed together by the roadside.
Zhen Ye walked up the dark stairwell, took out his key to open the door, mentally calculating what to cook for dinner.
His stomach was bad; greasy food would cause cramps, so he casually boiled a bowl of plain noodles and swallowed them tastelessly.
It was as if he had lost the most basic appetite, leaving only the need to fill his stomach.
But the human body always has a wonderful balance.
Appetite and sexual desire trade off. When appetite is suppressed, sexual desire rises decisively.
After washing up, Zhen Ye locked all doors and windows, climbed into bed, and intended to find a video to watch.
Nowadays there are many privately made bionic human videos. Among Zhen Ye’s many collections, the one he clicked on most often was the doll Owen’s.
One of them had a plot, where Owen awakened consciousness, turned into a big monster, dragged his master into a cave and did this and that. The action scenes were extremely thrilling.
A particular segment was filmed in first person. In the cave, a campfire blazed, its light casting over Owen’s strong body. The sound of flesh colliding mixed with low hoarse murmurs, echoing intensely off the rock walls.
In the final scene, Owen tied up his master. The muscles of his chest, engorged after exertion, were almost pressing against the screen.
The close-up shot lingered on Owen’s tightened arm, veins winding and bulging, like a python binding a person, forever suffocating in his embrace.
Zhen Ye couldn’t say why, but he especially liked this one. He would always get a hot face, toe cramps, curling up to climax at this scene.
Today, as usual, Zhen Ye clicked the link to relive it.
[Hello, this video is no longer available]
Zhen Ye: “…”
No matter, switch to another one.
[Hello, this video is no longer available]
Zhen Ye: ?
He clicked through the whole list, yet not one had survived.
Unable to see his cherished fake-person videos, Zhen Ye’s interest suddenly faded. He swiped around, planning to switch to a movie, but accidentally moved the old tablet’s screen to the animation section.
[Today’s childhood memory top recommendation! “The Magic Vine Romance”]
Zhen Ye froze for a moment, then, as if possessed, clicked in.
His grandmother said he was obsessed with this when he was little and watched it many times. Although he had long forgotten the visuals, he suddenly felt curious: what magic did this show have that could attract him so much.
His grandmother also said he mimicked it, wanting to get married just like the prince and the monster vine in the animation.
So the prince and the vine were probably a couple.
He clicked play. The classic castle opening flashed by. Zhen Ye half-leaned against the headboard, tablet propped on his knees. From “I’ll quit after five minutes,” he gradually became captivated, even the noise of the neighboring couple playing games together on a voice call faded out.
The story of “The Magic Vine Romance” was actually quite simple. Like an Andersen fairy tale, it began with a princess trapped.
Except in this story, it was a prince who was trapped.
The magic vine conquered the kingdom. The stepmother queen, in order to preserve her wealth and status, sacrificed the beautiful prince.
The magic vine had no human form—only thick, gnarled tentacles. With a curl of its tail hook, it could tie around the prince’s waist.
It snatched the prince away and hid him in a deep mountain cave.
The cave was vast and labyrinthine, difficult to escape from, but unexpectedly warm—not at all like the cold bedroom in the palace.
Every day, the magic vine would come to check on the prince, bringing him various delicacies from home. When the prince was melancholy, it even bought his favorite harp from outside, learned the sheet music, and played music for him with its tentacles.
You see, when the prince was in the palace, he was never allowed to play the harp because his stepmother despised music.
Zhen Ye thought that, prison aside, this prince lived far better than at home.
Although the magic vine wasn’t human but a monster, it was quite humane in taking care of the prince.
However, the plot took a turn—the prince began trying to escape. Just as he was about to succeed, a vine tentacle suddenly shot out from the depths of the cave, wrapping around him like a rope and binding him tightly.
A thick tentacle tightly wound around the prince’s slender limbs and threw him into a nest. The thickest vine, like an anaconda, rose vertically and pressed down dangerously, approaching the bound prince.
The prince struggled in fear, but the nest bed the monster vine had built for him was fluffy and soft.
The more he struggled, the deeper he sank.
Under the firelight, the protruding veins on the huge plant vine were fully outlined. Though in plant form, they were like green pythons, displaying powerful, muscle-strong thrusting back and forth.
Zhen Ye watched as the prince’s wrists and ankles were caught by tentacles, each wrapped in rings of suggestive red marks, his whole body stretched outward into the spread-eagled shape of " big ," as punishment for his escape.
He remained silent, expressionless, and reached his hand toward the bedside table.
He quickly slipped a cover over his fifteen-centimeter-long wooden stick, then tucked it into the quilt and found the right position.