Dong Xiang no longer looked at him, turning to walk towards the second floor.
"Go take a shower," her brief command came from the doorway, carrying an extremely awkward concern, "Clean yourself up; don't let it affect tomorrow's work."
Before her words faded, the sound of her footsteps had already disappeared at the end of the stairs leading to the upstairs living quarters.
He Xi Qian Yu stood alone in front of the empty bar, the moonlight stretching his shadow long.
He lowered his head to look at his hands, stained with dust and dark smudges, then raised his eyes to the stairwell where Dong Xiang had disappeared, a complex and unreadable expression flitting across his face.
In the air, the scent of blood was still strong, clashing with the lingering warm aroma of the coffee shop.
He Xi Qian Yu took a deep breath, then slowly exhaled.
The stairs leading to the upstairs living quarters were narrow and dim.
He Xi Qian Yu stepped onto the stairs, the wooden steps creaking faintly.
The higher he went, the thinner the warm scent of the coffee shop became, replaced by Dong Xiang's faint, crisp cold fragrance, mixed with the lingering scent of blood.
The bathroom door was ajar, a warm glow and rising steam emanating from the crack.
He Xi Qian Yu pushed the door open, and the small space was immediately filled with mist.
The shower was running, hot water continuously filling the bathtub, and a misty white fog rose from the water's surface, blurring even the cold tiled walls.
The water was very hot, and a clean, soft white towel was neatly folded on the shelf beside the bathtub, with a set of clean clothes for changing next to it.
Everything was silently prepared, with an awkward yet incredibly practical thoughtfulness.
He Xi Qian Yu's fingertips paused for a moment on the slightly cool clothes; the initial surprise was quickly replaced by a sense of relief.
As expected of Dong Xiang.
He Xi Qian Yu took off his soiled clothes and casually tossed them into the dirty laundry basket in the corner.
The moment the hot water touched his skin, it brought a slight sting, followed by an intense feeling of relief.
The scalding water washed over his shoulders, chest, and back, carrying away the dried bloodstains from his skin.
The water gathered at his feet, initially a murky grayish-brown, then quickly spreading into a dazzling light red, before slowly becoming clear with continuous rinsing.
He tilted his head back, closed his eyes, and let the hot water wash over his face.
The roaring sound of the water temporarily isolated all external sounds, but the scenes from the alley replayed uncontrollably in his mind: the blinding searchlight, the terrified, twisted faces, the crisp sound of bones breaking, the gushing warm liquid, the desperate suffocating whimpers as Slaughter's tentacles wrapped around necks… and finally, the enlarged, fear-filled pupils of that young Search Officer before he died.
These images were like cold venomous snakes, coiling around his nerves.
"...How wonderful the fear..." Slaughter's consciousness murmured contentedly in the depths of his mind, with the laziness of being sated, "...Their despair...is a good seasoning..."
"...You are also enjoying all of this...aren't you...?"
He Xi Qian Yu suddenly clenched his fists, his knuckles turning white from the effort.
The hot water washed over the back of his hands, but it couldn't wash away the cold, sticky tactile hallucination.
"Shut up," he snapped in his mind, his voice carrying a subtle tremor, "I have never enjoyed killing; everything I do is merely for self-preservation."
He loathed Slaughter's obsession with killing, loathed its disregard for life.
"...What are you resisting?" Slaughter's voice was laced with mockery, "...That is your essence...and my essence...Fear and blood are the best nourishment...Admit it...Enjoy it...just like tonight..."
"No," He Xi Qian Yu retorted in his mind, his fingernails almost digging into his palms, "That is not my essence; that is yours."
"...Self-deception..." Slaughter let out a low chuckle, "...Without me...you would be a corpse in the alley tonight...No...that's not right..." Its voice suddenly turned cold and sharp, "...A few days ago, on that night...you should have died...like a wild dog...died in a dirty corner...It was I...who let you live..."
"...You need my power...for that stable life you crave..."
"...We are one...He Xi Qian Yu...Accept it..."
Slaughter's words were like cold needles, piercing the barrier he tried to maintain.
He Xi Qian Yu fell silent.
The scalding water still washed over his exhausted body, and the rising steam blurred the mirror, blurring his vision as well.
He should have realized it earlier.
If the symbiote's personality is influenced by the host, then where did Slaughter's deep-seated brutality and bloodlust come from?
Was it Slaughter's own pure evil, or his own undetected inner desire, or a combination of both?
The latter was more likely.
Perhaps from the moment he bonded with Slaughter, this blood-soaked path was already laid before him, with no turning back.
...
He Xi Qian Yu turned off the shower.
He leaned on the edge of the bathtub, slowly straightening his body.
The mirror reflected a pale face, water droplets sliding down his tightly pressed lips and jawline.
He looked at the eyes in the mirror, those eyes reflecting a crimson image.
That was nothing else.
That was himself.
...
He Xi Qian Yu picked up the neatly folded white towel; it felt soft and dry, with a barely perceptible warmth.
He vigorously wiped his body and wet hair, his movements somewhat mechanical, as if trying to wipe away some invisible heavy burden as well.
Putting on clean clothes, the soft fabric enveloped his body, giving him a fleeting sense of normalcy, but the symbiote's power within him still surged restlessly.
Pushing open the bathroom door, with lingering moisture, he walked towards the stairwell; the coffee shop downstairs was still enveloped in darkness and silence.
He walked to the bar, not turning on any lights.
The moon still faithfully performed its duty, casting a cold, sharp light on the floor.
He picked up the familiar glass, unscrewed the mineral water bottle, and the sound of pouring water was exceptionally loud in the silence.
The water flowed into the glass, clear and transparent, reflecting the cold moonlight from outside the window.
He leaned against the edge of the bar, sipping the cool liquid in small sips, his gaze directed out the window at the empty street.
The street under the moonlight appeared calm, but in the dark corners, countless pairs of prying eyes seemed to lurk.