Chapter Twenty-Three: No Osmanthus in Summer

How could there be osmanthus blossoms in summer? As this thought crossed Zhong Shenxiu’s mind, a sudden dizziness overtook him, and the whole world seemed to change in an instant. Everything became at once familiar and unfamiliar.

But when he opened his eyes and surveyed his surroundings, he found nothing had changed at all.

The road was still paved with cotton candy; the houses were built of cookies and sweets; the emerald-green trees all around were laden with colorful, delicious fruits—strawberries, grapes, watermelons, and even large durians—hanging from the branches lining the street.

Everything seemed perfectly normal... or was it?

Boom—

A thunderous sound split the air, and suddenly a small mound rose in the cotton candy road. It grew taller and larger until, with a crisp pop, a tiny sapling broke through. The sapling shot up rapidly, growing stronger and fuller by the second. Soon, its tender green leaves were surrounded by clusters of flower buds.

Pop, pop, pop, pop—

The tiny buds burst open like popcorn, yellow-white petals fluttering lightly, and with each blossom, a delicate fragrance of osmanthus filled the air, intoxicating and sweet.

“Wow, it’s osmanthus!” Peter the Sweetheart stopped dead in his tracks, gazing up in a daze at the blossoming tree, breathing in the enchanting aroma with rapture.

Old Ben the Charmer, May the Beautiful, and all the neighbors around them simultaneously flashed their little pointed canines, fixated on the towering tree at the center of the road, lost in the scent of its flowers.

But!

There are no osmanthus trees in summer, and this is America—how could everyone possibly recognize an osmanthus tree?

At that moment, Zhong Shenxiu finally understood: something had gone terribly wrong. The world around him had suddenly twisted into this absurdity, and it was anything but normal.

Crash—

It sounded like countless panes of glass shattering all at once, or a torrent from a waterfall pounding the earth. The world before him fractured and blurred.

Rubbing his eyes instinctively, Zhong Shenxiu blinked several times before slowly opening them again.

And then... he was stunned.

The world before him had utterly changed.

Gone were the uniformly round, adorable faces that smiled with little tiger teeth. Instead, people now looked as they truly were—except their expressions were vacant, their faces pale, and their eyes stared blankly toward the center of the road.

There, a real osmanthus tree had indeed sprouted.

Its tawny trunk bore marks of age and hardship; its deep green leaves sheltered clusters of modest blossoms. Yet, as Zhong Shenxiu circled to the other side, he saw the tree was like a two-dimensional image in a game—its reverse side was nothing but a void of crimson light.

The road was still white as cotton candy, but stepping on it, he felt none of its former softness. The houses remained made of sweets and biscuits, but their fragrance had vanished.

And everywhere, in the cracks and corners of this false world, that mysterious red light could be found—spilling like the crimson blood of the universe.

Zhong Shenxiu glanced at the people around him, their eyelids drooping, their spirits utterly drained.

He instantly recalled the prison, the bizarre state of those inmates, and the countless streams of red light.

He thought: these neighbors, like those prisoners, must now be under the control of this mysterious red glow.

But before, the light had controlled the prisoners for the sake of the Rhino Man. Why was it now controlling so many townspeople? And, most importantly, what was different this time?

The greatest difference was this bizarre world itself. From the traces of red light everywhere, Zhong Shenxiu deduced that this surreal world was also the work of that red glow.

Unlike before, when only people were controlled, now the world itself could be reshaped.

The red light had the power to alter reality.

Suddenly, a name flashed through Zhong Shenxiu’s mind: the Scarlet Witch, Wanda!

But the timeline didn’t fit. At this point, Wanda was still young, and her mutant powers had not yet been activated by the Mind Stone. How could she possibly possess such extraordinary abilities—ones she would only attain much later?

Puzzled, Zhong Shenxiu decided to return home first.

He opened the refrigerator. Aside from an assortment of instant foods, a single blood pack was hidden in the bottom drawer.

He had collected this from a prisoner two days ago. As for why he needed blood—it was vital for his Skrull Shapeshifting ability!

His Skrull Shapeshifting worked like this: obtain the target’s blood, and he could transform into their likeness and mimic their voice.

But this description wasn’t quite complete.

Every transformation required fresh blood from the target. There was no time limit to maintaining a form, but to change again after returning to his original self, he would need to touch the target’s blood once more.

And the blood had to be fresh.

Zhong Shenxiu had run secret experiments: without any special preservation, blood became unusable for transformation after about three hours. Kept in the refrigerator, that window could be extended to around fifty hours.

Now, the blood bag in his fridge was just within the usable period.

He opened it, dipped a finger through the spout, and muttered to himself:

“Skrull Shapeshifting.”

His skin tinged green, a slit opened in his finger, and the blood was drawn in.

And then—

He felt himself shrink.

A glance in the mirror confirmed it—he had taken on the form of the blood’s owner: a short, stocky Black man with thick lips.

Now that his appearance had changed, Zhong Shenxiu resolved to do what he hadn’t dared in prison—investigate this mystery personally.

Just like when he’d seen the leaders of the Black and Redneck gangs enter that underground cell together, this time he would not suppress his curiosity, but follow wherever it led, and perhaps, if luck permitted, reap some benefit—this, above all, was important.

He slipped quietly out his window, circled to the back alley, and then, feigning a dazed expression, casually strolled past his own front door, blending in with the entranced crowd.

With this little performance, anyone monitoring the house would never suspect that this thick-lipped Black man was really him.

Zhong Shenxiu thought with satisfaction.

He continued to wander in a daze, heading toward the high-rise district to the south, where the crowds were thickest.

But—

He had barely taken two steps when someone blocked his path.

Zhong Shenxiu was about to strike a silly pose and blurt out some nonsense to get by.

But the moment he looked up, all such