Tòumíng lay on the ground, his face pressed against the cold concrete of the courtyard. He was alive—Schrödinger's Heart kept beating, kept him locked in that quantum state of not-quite-dead—but his spine was completely done.
No sensation below the waist. No movement. His legs were just dead weight attached to his torso, unresponsive no matter how hard he tried to will them into action.
He activated Metabolic Healing desperately, mentally reaching for that skill that had saved him last night.
The notification appeared in his vision, clinical and devastating:
METABOLIC HEALING - DAMAGE ASSESSMENT
Current Injury: Gunshot wound to lumbar spine (L3-L4)
Damage Breakdown:
Vertebral fracture: Moderate Spinal cord compression: Severe Nerve damage: Extensive Internal bleeding: Minor Bullet lodged in spinal column: Confirmed
Caloric Requirements for Full Recovery:
Bone/Muscle Repair: 3,500 calories Spinal Cord Regeneration (nerve rewiring): 20,000 calories Bullet Removal (expulsion/absorption): 100 calories
TOTAL REQUIRED: 23,500 calories
Current Stored Calories: 400
STATUS: INSUFFICIENT ENERGY - UNABLE TO HEAL
"FUCK!"
He couldn't move anything below his ribs. His arms still worked, shoulders still functional, but from the diaphragm down he might as well have been made of stone.
Tòumíng started crawling. Digging his fingers into the ground, pulling his dead-weight lower body along, inching toward the apartment door. Each movement was agony—not from the paralyzed legs, but from the effort of dragging himself, from his broken ribs grinding, from the bullet lodged in his spine shifting slightly with each pull.
"MEI!" he screamed toward the apartment. "HIDE! GET AWAY FROM THE WINDOWS! DON'T COME OUT!"
Behind him, Pàng Hǔ was also crawling. The giant had managed to roll onto his stomach despite his destroyed groin and ruined eyes, his massive arms pulling his body forward with disturbing determination. Blood trailed behind him from the groin wound, a wide smear across the concrete.
He still had the gun.
BANG.
The shot went wide, hitting the wall beside Tòumíng's head. Pàng Hǔ couldn't see—his eyes were gone—but he was shooting based on sound, on the scraping noise of Tòumíng's crawling.
BANG. BANG.
Two more shots. One hit the ground inches from Tòumíng's hand. The other ricocheted off the doorframe.
Tòumíng pulled harder, faster, his arms burning with effort. He made it through the doorway, into his apartment, the familiar sight of his sparse living room never more welcome.
BANG. BANG. BANG.
Three more shots in rapid succession as Pàng Hǔ reached the threshold. Wild firing, desperate and blind, bullets embedding in walls and furniture. One shattered what remained of a lamp Tòumíng had bought on impulse.
Then click. Click click click.
Empty. The gun was out of ammunition.
"FUCK!" Pàng Hǔ screamed, his voice hoarse and broken. But he kept crawling, kept pulling himself forward with those massive arms, blood trail following him into the apartment. "My... love... Mei... please... love me..."
His voice was getting weaker. The blood loss, the shock, the catastrophic damage to his reproductive system—all of it was catching up to him. His crawling slowed. His arms shook with each pull.
Then stopped.
Pàng Hǔ collapsed face-first onto Tòumíng's floor, his breathing shallow and erratic, foam still bubbling from his mouth.
Unconscious. Finally.
"OH THANK GOD!" Tòumíng gasped, relief flooding through him. "MEI! Come out! It's safe now!"
The bedroom door cracked open slowly. Měi Nán peeked out, his face pale, eyes wide with terror. He took in the scene—Tòumíng on the floor, legs not working, blood everywhere, a massive unconscious giant bleeding out in the middle of the living room.
He started trembling. Actually shaking. Tears welled up in his eyes.
"What... what happened? You were outside and then gunshots and I heard you screaming and—" His voice broke. "Are you dying? Oh god, you're dying, I should call the police, I should call an ambulance—"
"Don't worry!" Tòumíng tried to sound reassuring despite lying on his floor paralyzed from the waist down. "It's just a graze! Barely hit me! I'm fine!"
"You can't MOVE YOUR LEGS!"
"Temporary! Very temporary! I just need food!"
"FOOD?!" Měi Nán's voice rose to near-hysteria. "You need a HOSPITAL! You need SURGERY! You—"
"No cops! No hospitals! Just food!" Tòumíng pulled himself toward the kitchen using his arms, his useless legs dragging behind him. "I can fix this! I have a skill! I just need calories! Lots of them!"
He reached the kitchen cabinet, yanked it open with one hand while bracing himself with the other. His fingers closed around a knife—a decent-sized kitchen knife, sharp enough to be dangerous.
Just in case Pàng Hǔ woke up again.
Tòumíng sat with his back against the counter, the knife gripped in one hand, ready to use it at any moment. His legs sprawled uselessly in front of him, a constant reminder of his vulnerability.
Měi Nán stood frozen in the bedroom doorway, trying to process everything, tears now streaming down his face.
"I need you to go get food," Tòumíng said as calmly as he could manage. "A lot of food. At least twenty-four thousand calories worth. Anything high-calorie. Fast food, butter, oil, whatever. Can you do that?"
"You're insane. You're completely insane."
"Probably! But I'm also paralyzed and bleeding, so can we argue about my mental state after I can walk again? Please?"
Měi Nán wiped his eyes, his expression cycling through several emotions before settling on determined resignation. "You better not die before I get back. If you die, I'm going to be so pissed."
"Noted. Now go. Fast."
Měi Nán grabbed his phone and wallet, gave Pàng Hǔ's unconscious form a wide berth, and ran out the door.
Tòumíng sat against the kitchen counter, knife in hand, alone with an unconscious giant bleeding out on his floor and a bullet lodged in his spine.
"Well," Cupid said after a moment of silence. "You won. Technically."
"Doesn't feel like winning."
"You're alive. He's not going to be threatening Měi Nán anymore. I'd call that a win."
A notification chimed.
NEW TITLE ACQUIRED: DAVID
Description: The underdog who defeats giants through cunning and willpower
Perks:
Strength increases by 80% when fighting opponents 50+ lbs heavier and 6+ inches taller Enhanced tactical thinking against larger foes Intimidation resistance against size-based threats
Cons: None
"Finally!" Tòumíng grinned despite everything. "A good title! No psychological damage! No decreased empathy! Just straight buffs!"
Another notification appeared.
NEW SKILL ACQUIRED: SECOND GUESS
Description: When an enemy's attack would be lethal, they experience a moment of hesitation, second-guessing their commitment to the strike. This creates a brief window for the user to react and counter.
Effect: Activates automatically when lethal attack is incoming. Enemy hesitates for 0.5-1.5 seconds depending on their conviction. User gains awareness of the incoming attack and opportunity to dodge/counter.
Limitation: Can only trigger once per hour. Subsequent lethal attacks within the cooldown period are not affected.
"That would have been useful about ten minutes ago," Tòumíng muttered.
"Better late than never. At least you've got it for next time."
"Next time. Right. Because there's definitely going to be a next time at this rate."
Tòumíng sat there, back against the counter, knife ready, legs useless, waiting for Měi Nán to return with enough food to regenerate a spinal cord.
Just another morning in his new life.