Chapter 33: Consumption of Abilities

“Mmm~ This bucket of original flavor finger-lickin’ chicken isn’t bad!”

“Liu Wangjiang still has a conscience after all, knows to clean up his mess—ordered me delivery before leaving.”

“Just didn’t get me an iced Coke; stuck with warm water instead.”

After finishing the bucket of original flavor finger-lickin’ chicken, Lu Qingqi tossed the empty bucket onto the bedside table, but his brows furrowed.

Why did he pass out?

Why hypoglycemia?

He’d been perfectly healthy before.

It seemed like ever since getting these abilities, he got hungry way too fast—sometimes right after a meal, his stomach would start growling again.

Could it be…… using abilities consumes stamina?

Or rather, drains something like “satiety”?

The thought popped up and took over his mind, lingering stubbornly.

Lu Qingqi glanced left and right; the room was dead quiet, the nurse had checked in earlier and hadn’t returned.

He steeled himself, pinched the IV connector, carefully pulled out the needle, pressed a cotton swab to the puncture for a bit, confirmed no bleeding, then tiptoed into the bathroom.

He locked the door behind him, took a deep breath, focused his intent, and activated the ability.

In an instant, the short-haired youth’s form softened gradually; his neat black hair cascaded down his neck, growing into waist-length locks, and the loose hospital gown stretched into delicate curves.

He—no, now it should be she—she lifted her hem, glancing at her belly.

She’d just eaten a whole bucket of fried chicken, and it still bulged a bit—no change.

She tried shifting back, then forward again.

After a few rounds, she poked her stomach; seemed like…… that heavy fullness from before had faded a touch?

Might as well switch back and forth properly—once, twice, ten times, twenty……

After dozens of shifts, the slight swell of her belly flattened completely; a familiar hunger struck without warning, fiercer than before, stomach empty and panicky, even starting to ache.

“So that’s how it is……”

Lu Qingqi in her girl form murmured to herself, hand stroking her belly, eyes holding a mix of realization and wry amusement.

Looks like using the ability really does have a cost—use it too much, and you’ve gotta eat to recover.

……

What is a dream?

A illusory fancy, a delusion settled from daily thoughts, or bizarre illusions born in moments of unclear mind?

To Liu Wangjiang, a dream was random neural firings in the brain during sleep, integrated into subjective experiences.

A lucid dream, then, was realizing you were dreaming while dreaming, even controlling the content to some degree, tied to activity in specific brain regions.

He was in one right now, even clearly aware of what he’d eaten that night, who he’d talked to, and what time he’d gone to bed.

This was a two-story cement-and-red-brick building with a yard, plus a plot of vegetable garden.

Liu Wangjiang had lived here for a stretch as a kid, with Butler Meng—that was where he’d met Lu Qingqi, still a little shota back then.

“This lucid dream’s so vivid, huh? Or because I’m in these mountains, I fail to see the true face of Lushan?”

Liu Wangjiang strolled to the vegetable patch, plucked a cucumber, bit in—the crisp juice flooding his tongue, real as could be, not like a dream at all.

“You’re stealing from Ajiang’s veggie garden! You’re a thief!”

A crisp childish voice rang out beside him suddenly.

The familiar nickname halted the man’s movements; he turned to see a little shota in a shirt, chubby-cheeked but not fat—quite adorable instead—frowning fiercely at him.

Ajiang……

How long since anyone called him that……

This little shota……

Seeing him look over, the little shota panicked a bit, but jutted his neck out, voice milkily fierce as he yelled,

“You thief! I’m telling you, everyone in this village knows me! If you dare kidnap me, they’ll come beat you up!”

“Qingqi.”

Liu Wangjiang called softly.

Little Lu Qingqi’s eyes flew wide; he shrank back half a step, voice trembling a touch.

“H-How do you know my name?”

Liu Wangjiang’s heart softened; he strode quickly to little Lu Qingqi, crouching down, fingertips gently pinching the soft flesh of his cheek—plush and identical to memory.

“Didn’t expect to see such a tiny you even in a dream,”

he said, voice gentling, eyes rippling with amusement.

“Really cute.”

“If you were a girl, you’d be even cuter.”

“What’re you saying? I don’t get it! And I’m not a girl, I’m a boy!!”

Little Lu Qingqi twisted hard to escape, small hands slapping at his arms.

“You thief, don’t touch my face!”

Liu Wangjiang chuckled at his bristling; he drawled teasingly on purpose,

“Right, I’m a thief—”

He leaned closer, tone laced with playfulness.

“I’m gonna steal your heart.”

“What?!”

Little Lu Qingqi’s eyes went perfectly round; he instantly linked “steal heart” to something scarier, his little face paling.

“Y-You’re a human trafficker? Gonna grab me and sell my organs? Nooo! Mommy, Daddy, save me!”

Tears rolled down like beads off a string; the little shota wailed thunderously, chubby face scrunching up, shoulders even hitching in sobs—looking all aggrieved and pitiable.

Liu Wangjiang blanked for a beat, then laughed.

He’d been sexually repressed too long, apparently, flirting with dream-little Lu Qingqi like this.

But since it was his dream, his consciousness should influence it.

Like…… turning little Lu Qingqi into a girl.

The thought just formed when the little shota before him shifted.

His neat short hair turned soft and fluffy, draping to his shoulders; the chubby face’s lines softened, those round glaring eyes now shimmering with tears, even more lively.

The shirt morphed into a pink-and-white Lolita dress, lace frills swaying gently with her movements—a perfect dainty little loli.

Liu Wangjiang stared, that odd flutter in his heart magnifying instantly.

Almost instinctively, he leaned in, planting a hard kiss on that tear-streaked, tender cheek—warm and soft, carrying a child’s milky scent.

“Ah, what’re you doing? Why kiss me?”

“Wait, what’s this? Why am I wearing a skirt?!”

“Help! Mommy, Daddy, I’ve met a ghost!!”

Little loli Lu Qingqi struggled.

Liu Wangjiang smiled, thinking of a few more kisses, but the scene before him rippled suddenly like water hit with a stone; little Lu Qingqi’s figure blurred, the garden and house melting like paint around him.

“Qiqi……”

He reached instinctively to grab, but clutched only void.

The next second, Liu Wangjiang bolted upright in bed, chest rising and falling lightly.

Outside the window, the sky still wore a thin veil, indistinct—probably around five or six in the morning.

He touched his lips, fingertips seeming to hold that soft, warm sensation still, couldn’t help a low chuckle.

“This lucid dream’s really…… but the taste feels awfully real.”

He stretched lazily, then lay back down.

Utterly oblivious to the faint wisp of pale white mist emerging quietly at his chest—now slightly larger than at first, it brushed lightly before vanishing under his clothes.