Chapter 163: Mistake—Failed Control?

Bian Changxi’s fingers trembled slightly—part surprise, part delight.

She stared at the slender little watermelon vine, and following the sensation she’d just experienced, gave it another mental nudge. The vine bounced again, its threadlike tip tracing a graceful, elastic arc—just like the leap of joy in Bian Changxi’s heart.

She’d done it!

She almost burst out laughing.

But she held it in.

Switching to another watermelon vine, she repeated the process, making it bounce as well. For a moment, with her hands pressed to the earth, the patch of green watermelon vines before her were all quivering and springing, lively and light, as if countless invisible strings were tugging at them, or as if someone were playing a melody across their stems.

Well, that was how it looked to Bian Changxi. To an outsider, it would seem like these watermelon vines were about to come alive, bouncing around on their own...

Either way, she was having the time of her life. After playing with the watermelon vines, she moved on to the eggplants, making the poor plants dance in the windless air, shaking so hard their leaves and flowers fell off, even dropping two shiny purple eggplants before they were ripe.

Bian Changxi giggled, then shifted her hands again. She pried open the leaves of the cabbages one by one, made the tiny tomatoes sway on their branches like little lanterns, and set the peanut plants rippling in waves of green, while the delicate cilantro simply collapsed under her influence.

Bian Changxi grinned silently, thoroughly amused.

Aunt Zhao watched her from a distance, worried for both the vegetables and Bian Changxi’s odd behavior. Luckily, Bian Changxi soon returned to normal and went back to her bench. This time, she kept her hands off the ground and fixed her gaze on the now-still watermelon vines—she was about to try true telekinetic control.

She reached out with her mind, enveloping the watermelon vine.

At this stage, no one really talked about “mental power” among ability users, not even that expert Gu Xu. The term wouldn’t come into use until three or four years into the apocalypse, after psychic-type abilities appeared.

But in truth, mental power is just a manifestation of a person’s spirit becoming strong enough to have substance, and ability users’ minds were always stronger than normal people’s.

Bian Changxi had the advantage of being a wood-type. Her power was more closely connected to nature than most other abilities—though wind and air types had their own connections, theirs were with inanimate things like air, while wood-type was all about the vitality of living plants. That made a fundamental difference, so she could easily sense everything happening within a certain range. This perception, to put it bluntly, could be considered a type of mental ability.

Now, she was using this perception to control plants, not inanimate objects, making the connection even tighter. So, while calling it “mental power” wasn’t strictly accurate, it wasn’t far off. You could say her mental power was entirely tied to her ability at this point, not yet able to act independently.

Okay, that was a mouthful. These thoughts flashed through Bian Changxi’s mind, but she didn’t dwell on them. Whether it was mental power or not, as long as she could control plants, that was enough. She didn’t really understand the principles behind wood-type control abilities or how they worked.

Her goal now was to make the watermelon vine bounce like before.

She pictured it, concentrated, clenched her teeth. But the stubborn vine didn’t budge, as calm as ever. Even the slight swaying might have just been from the breeze.

Bian Changxi frowned, feeling thirsty and a little hungry, so she got up and went to the kitchen, grabbed a slice of watermelon from the fridge, and ate it bite by bite. Then she went back and glared at the watermelon vine. “You little thing, I’ve already eaten your ancestors—if you don’t behave, I’ll eat you too!”

Maybe her threat worked, or maybe it was just time, but after what felt like ages—until her strength was spent and her head ached—the watermelon vine finally gave a little twitch.

She was overjoyed. With that first success, the rest came easier. She expertly tugged the little vine this way and that, her excitement washing away her fatigue. All she could see was that patch of green, and she even directed it to climb the wall.

The villa’s wall was smooth, but that didn’t matter. The slender watermelon vine timidly pressed itself to the wall, its stem and fine white hairs brushing, inching, clinging, slowly making its way upward.

As the sun set, everyone who’d been out working returned home, only to witness a bizarre sight: one of their watermelon vines was actually climbing the wall! Even though it was just a single vine and the rest were behaving, it was still pretty freaky. Even scarier was the person crouched in the dirt facing the vine—Bian Changxi, who at some point had kicked away her little bench and was now squatting there, utterly focused. Her eyes were pitch-black and eerily intense, her face pale as snow and expressionless, hands clawed and tensed, veins bulging from the effort, knuckles white.

No one even dared call out to her.

Her mind and will seemed to have drifted to another world, oblivious to anyone entering or approaching her.

Gu Xu frowned deeply and asked Wu Dalang and Shadow, who’d stayed home all day, “When did she start acting like this?”

Wu Dalang replied, “She’s been squatting there since we got back this afternoon. At first, when her hands were on the ground, she was lively and animated, but then she just froze. By the time we realized something was wrong, she was already like this.”

Shadow nodded in agreement.

Gu Xu stared at Bian Changxi, worry in his eyes. Her aura was incredibly strong at this moment, but also extremely fragile—any disturbance could shatter her state, with potentially serious consequences. But just letting her be...?

Even as wise and resourceful as he was, Gu Xu felt helpless. He knew too little about abilities to risk interfering, so he told everyone else to stay quiet as they came home.

Fortunately, not long after, Bian Changxi slowly relaxed and came back to herself. Her expression changed, her eyes moved, and the eerie atmosphere dissipated. She saw her handiwork on the wall and seemed a bit surprised.

“Wow, no way—did I do that?” she whispered hoarsely, still amazed.

Standing beside her was Gu Pei, who nodded blankly. “Yeah, I saw it with my own eyes. Changxi, you’re really...” He struggled for words. “Amazing. But, uh, watermelons don’t usually climb walls, do they?”

“Huh?”

“They won’t grow well like that,” Gu Pei mumbled, still in shock. “I think it’s loofahs that climb walls.”

“Really?”

“What do you mean, really?” Qiu Yun rumbled from beside Gu Pei, looking at the wall. “You’re both wrong. The thing that climbs walls is a gecko.”

Qiu Feng rolled his eyes internally, then glanced at Bian Changxi, unable to hide his shock: Wood-type can do this? Unbelievable.

Gu Xu let out a quiet sigh of relief, ignored the jokers, and shot Aunt Zhao a look. She got the message and said, “Alright, everyone, wash up and get ready for dinner. Changxi, are you alright? You’re so pale.”

Bian Changxi wanted to pull the watermelon vine off the wall, but the moment she thought about it, a splitting headache hit her. She was baffled by the reaction, her mind muddled, and after a moment she managed to say, “I’m fine, really.”

She stood up, her knees stiff and numb, and before she could straighten up, a wave of dizziness hit. Before anyone else could react, Gu Xu rushed over and caught her. “You call this fine? Go upstairs and rest.”

Bian Changxi leaned on his arm, waiting for the dizziness to pass, and shook her head slowly. “It’s nothing, just stood up too fast. Probably low on oxygen or blood or something.”

She still couldn’t figure out what was wrong with her. Hungry—so hungry she could eat a whole cow. Exhausted—so tired her eyes ached, her eyelids felt glued shut.

She looked up at the sky, still bright with sunset. She hadn’t been squatting that long, had she?

Could she have drained her mental power?

Everyone gathered at the table for dinner, which was especially lavish that night—fish, meat, vegetables, and fruit for dessert. Aunt Zhao sat down to eat, Shadow was moving and eating on his own, but everyone kept glancing at Bian Changxi, not for any other reason but her odd state. She looked... really sleepy?

Gu Xu whispered, “Maybe you should go to bed first?”

She didn’t respond, propping her head on her left hand, her eyes lowered to the table. No one else knew, but to her, the dishes on the table seemed to blur and double. Even though her mind was utterly exhausted, she could feel a restless power stirring inside her, impossible to suppress.

The longer it went on, the stronger the feeling grew.

She realized something must have gone wrong with her attempt at control-type ability. The scary part was, she had no memory of the process, no sense of time—once she entered that state, she was completely unaware, and by the time she snapped out of it, the damage was done.

Is control-type wood ability really this hard to master? Or did she do something wrong?

She thought about it unconsciously, her mind growing heavier yet more excited. Suddenly, her eyes snapped open, a fierce light flashing in them. Her gaze landed on an empty dish, which suddenly floated into the air, spun around, and then crashed down.

Bian Changxi shuddered all over, let out a muffled groan, and blood trickled from the corner of her mouth. Her face went ashen, like gold paper.

Everyone was shocked.

Gu Xu was at her side in an instant, steadying her as she nearly toppled over with her chair. He scooped her up and headed for the living room sofa.

Bian Changxi grabbed his shirt. “Upstairs. My room.”

Gu Xu paused, then headed upstairs. “Do you need anything? A crystal core, or should I get another wood-type to check on you, or...?”

He laid her on the bed. The cat, Milk, who’d been ordered to stay home all day, leapt up from the floor, equally anxious, meowing and rubbing against Bian Changxi’s face.

Bian Changxi felt terrible—her head was about to explode, her chest tight to the point of suffocation, her blood racing. Worst of all, she had no idea what was wrong. She heard Gu Xu’s words, but it was as if she didn’t. By the time she processed them, she still didn’t know what to do.

ps:

Thank you to Xiaoxiao Heyuan for the pink ticket!

Thank you to zcy0812 for the pink ticket!"