Zhou Zhuang realized the "useless runaway who can't afford food" the old man mentioned… was the same short-ish "uncle" who had helped him find the shelves in the convenience store earlier.
Seeing that Zhou Zhuang and Gregor seemed to know each other, the old man decided not to get involved. He quickly picked up a basket and headed to the fridge to select the meat Zhou Zhuang had ordered.
Zhou Zhuang, meanwhile, felt it was almost fate that he'd run into this man twice in such a short time. But after hearing the vendor's harsh description, Zhou Zhuang's gaze unconsciously changed—something faintly judgmental slipped in.
Gregor caught that shift immediately.
A bitter feeling rose in his chest.
He thought he'd long since grown used to people's coldness, disgust, even hatred… yet for some reason, the moment he felt this man's eyes turn, it was suffocating in a way the others weren't.
In that choking silence, Gregor's right arm began to stir again.
He clamped down on it with his left hand, gripping hard as the limb trembled.
Zhou Zhuang stared for a beat—then his conscience punched him in the face.
He instantly realized what he'd done: judging someone he barely knew because of one stranger's comment.
In his mind, he slapped himself twice.
Then he decided: If he couldn't fix the world, he could at least buy this man dinner.
It was childish, sure—but Zhou Zhuang had no concept of how much money was on Angela's card. As far as he was concerned, the balance was just… "numbers."
Having made up his mind, Zhou Zhuang turned and shouted toward the old man, who was coming back with a basket:
"Old man! Let this uncle order too—I'm paying for everything he eats tonight!"
The vendor looked over—
And immediately saw something was very wrong.
Gregor's body was shaking violently. His left hand was still crushing down on his right arm. The old man knew what that arm meant.
A bad feeling detonated in his head.
Gregor was losing control.
The right sleeve tightened as if something inside was swelling. Then the fabric started to tear—strange tissue pushing through the gaps, writhing.
The old man threw the basket aside, grabbed for the sword on his back, and charged toward Zhou Zhuang.
Zhou Zhuang: completely confused.
"Huh…?"
Gregor forced out a warning through clenched teeth:
"D—don't…! Get away—!"
But that moment of speaking was enough.
His grip loosened.
The right arm hit its tipping point and burst out of the pocket, sprouting sharp insect limbs that started to grow outward—
Toward Zhou Zhuang.
And then—
A faint, drifting snort.
"Hmph."
That single sound made Gregor's raging limb freeze, shrink back—
And then it disintegrated, like paper burned to ash, vanishing in seconds.
Gregor stared in disbelief at the insect limb that had been aimed at the back of Zhou Zhuang's head… now gone.
The old man skidded to a stop in front of Zhou Zhuang, weapon half-drawn—only to find Gregor's right arm calm and normal again.
Even he didn't understand it.
Gregor's arm losing control wasn't new, but it disappearing without causing a scene like this?
That was a first.
Zhou Zhuang finally connected the dots: the old man had drawn a weapon, and Gregor had shouted at him to dodge.
He turned around, puzzled.
Gregor, seeing Zhou Zhuang's head turning, panicked—he shoved whatever remained of the insect limb back into his pocket and forced his face into something vaguely "normal."
Zhou Zhuang only saw an "uncle" sweating nervously.
"Did something happen just now?" Zhou Zhuang asked.
Gregor stammered.
"Ah… did it? M-maybe… you imagined it."
Zhou Zhuang could tell they'd seen something—the vendor had literally reached for a sword—but the street around them was still lively and peaceful. No screaming. No blood. No chaos.
So Zhou Zhuang shrugged, palms out, and accepted the explanation.
Then he repeated himself to the old man, who was putting his weapon away:
"Old man, like I said—this uncle's spending tonight is on me. Uh… want to come eat with us too?"
He figured two people eating street barbecue felt less "lively" than the big group meals he was used to. Bringing someone in would add atmosphere.
Also… maybe it'd solve this uncle's "employment" problem while he was at it.
The old man was fully in favor of the idea.
Helping an old acquaintance eat without forcing him to beg for credit? And Zhou Zhuang was paying? Perfect.
Gregor, however, wanted to refuse.
After what had almost happened, he was terrified he'd lose control again.
He rubbed his right arm with his left hand, hesitating.
The old man saw the worry and laughed, then accepted on his behalf:
"He's just embarrassed. I'll decide for him—he's in."
He patted Gregor on the back so hard Gregor stumbled forward.
"Hey—!" Gregor spun around, glaring.
Too late.
Zhou Zhuang had already turned away.
"Alright then. I'll push the tables together and wait for you."
He walked back toward Angela.
The old man folded his arms, standing beside Gregor, and said:
"Yep. You ran into a good person."
Gregor watched Zhou Zhuang dragging tables, and murmured:
"Someone like me… deserves a stranger's kindness?"
The old man, deadpan, tossed out a "joke":
"Maybe he's just giving you a little kindness to lower your guard… then selling you to Alley 23."
Gregor side-eyed him and shot back:
"If that happens, those chefs better think about whether cooking me will give the customers 'bug disease.'"
The old man laughed it off.
Gregor exhaled, then finally nodded to himself.
"…Either way, I can't waste his goodwill."
He set his groceries behind the stall and went to the fridge to pick meat for himself.
The old man hurried after him, grumbling:
"Wait for me—damn it. You scared me so bad I threw away the food I'd prepped. I've gotta redo it."
And the two of them walked toward the fridge together—one trying to accept kindness, the other pretending not to care, both quietly shaken by what had almost happened.
....
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