Sick
He Zhouyan looked down and picked up the wild boar cub, his emotionless eyes finally showing a ripple of feeling.
“Ji…” Lu Congxing’s head was still spinning a bit, but the moment he was picked up, all his pain mysteriously vanished.
Bai Ze’s spiritual energy wrapped around him, soothing him continuously.
In that dazed state, his mind drifted back to memories from long ago.
Even He Zhouyan himself didn’t know that his first encounter with Lu Congxing had happened two years earlier.
Back then, during a rainy night on the street, Lu Congxing had uncontrollably shifted into his cub form for the first time—and it was also when he fully realized that he wasn’t human.
Maybe because it was his first time turning into something furry, his mental faculties had dropped drastically.
He was left trembling in the rain, fur soaked and eyes barely able to stay open—when he saw the man.
Many animals have a kind of imprinting instinct, and at that time, the sixteen-year-old Lu Congxing pitifully meowed at the man walking toward him with an umbrella.
He thought, Maybe this man will stop for me. Maybe he’ll pet my soaked fur.
It was the first living being he’d seen after transforming, and he meowed weakly on pure instinct.
Broken little cries that seemed like they could be swallowed by the raindrops at any moment.
But back then, He Zhouyan, dressed in black and as cold as ever, didn’t even spare him a glance—he just stepped right past and walked away.
It was later that Di Jiang, who happened to pass by, saved him. Di Jiang brought him to the Bureau of Supernatural Affairs and became his closest friend.
That’s also why, when the Bureau told him that He Zhouyan was the best candidate to be his guardian, he resisted so strongly.
He had thought he’d never see that man again—but the moment he saw his photo, all those buried feelings bubbled up again.
The feeling was strange and new. Maybe it was that imprinting instinct, but for the first time, he threw an inexplicable tantrum at a stranger—pointing at the photo and saying, “No.”
The memory ended there.
Fuming, Lu Congxing regained a bit of strength—and bit He Zhouyan on the wrist.
He started cursing him silently in his head.
Although his guardian demon was undeniably excellent, Lu Congxing still silently criticized him in his heart from every possible angle.
Then, feeling satisfied, he happily wagged his little tail.
He Zhouyan’s gaze gradually turned confused. He had no idea why the wild boar cub with markings resembling a sunflower seed suddenly started berating him.
But that didn’t stop him from getting a mischievous urge to tease. So he weighed the wild boar cub in his hands and casually said, “Hmm, I bet you’d taste pretty good in a stew.”
Startled, the wild boar—Xing—cub jerked his head up, only to meet the man’s slowly curling smirk.
In that moment, he suddenly had a flash of realization. His usual intelligence, which always went offline in his cub form, briefly came back online.
Thinking back to everything that had happened, and looking into those teasing eyes, he finally realized—he’d been exposed.
He Zhouyan, who had been quietly listening to the cub’s inner thoughts the whole time, couldn’t help raising an eyebrow. A moment later, he felt a slight, sharp pain from being bitten on the wrist.
Lu Congxing thought he was being fierce, but only left a shallow bite mark, like a tiny rice grain.
Frustrated, he bit him again.
And after biting, He Zhouyan even stuck a finger in to feel around his little teeth, checking if he’d hurt himself.
While doing this, he apologized with a surprisingly sincere tone: “Sorry, I just couldn’t find the right time to tell you.”
It definitely wasn’t because he found the sneaky cub so cute he couldn’t bear to spoil the fun.
But the amusement in his eyes gave him away completely.
Lu Congxing forgot all about his earlier moment of sadness and focused entirely on scolding He Zhouyan with a flurry of ‘ji ji ji’ while pressing down on his hand with his little hoof.
He Zhouyan, in a great mood, stroked the boar’s fur and couldn’t resist tugging gently on his curly little tail.
Lu Congxing bit down on his finger and wouldn’t let go, glaring at him with shiny black bean-like eyes full of blame.
He Zhouyan didn’t pull away, just let the wild boar hang on as he carried him out in his arms.
At that moment, a staff member from the gallery came running over to apologize. From his explanation, Lu Congxing finally found out that one of the paintings had mysteriously caught fire. Though it had been extinguished, the exhibition needed to be shut down immediately.
While talking, the staff member kept sneaking glances at the wild boar cub in his arms, silently marveling at how the pets of the rich were becoming more and more outlandish these days.
Lu Congxing flicked his little tail and patted He Zhouyan with a hoof.
He Zhouyan understood and asked, “Which painting caught fire?”
The staff quickly pulled out his phone to show him a photo he’d taken earlier.
It was a dark, richly-colored forest scene—vivid and layered. From the high-resolution photo, Lu Congxing could faintly see something yellow-brown hidden behind the trees.
That was the painting he had been pulled into.
Turns out the painting depicted a forest, and the village hidden behind the trees was rendered with a hazy, mysterious aura.
This piece was one of Lin Yudan’s earlier works. Though it had a unique, spiritual energy to it, it had never been widely known.
Only after it was destroyed in the fire did it begin to draw attention—what a pity.
People mourned the painting, but Lu Congxing had actually entered it, and truly communicated with those villagers who had perished in the flames.
It was like any ordinary village—warm and welcoming. Even the most disliked loafer in the town had been a living, breathing person.
None of them had ever realized they were just part of a painting.
Of course, Lu Congxing knew this was more of a metaphysical idea. The people inside only “came to life” briefly when someone entered the painting. Before he went in, it was nothing more than a static image.
But as he looked at the painting again, the memory of blood and desperate cries came flooding back.
The staff member holding the phone went pale at the sight of the man whose expression suddenly turned ice-cold and dangerous—he nearly dropped his phone.
“T-T-Trouble, sir?” he stammered.
He Zhouyan closed his eyes, forcing down the cold light in his gaze. When he opened them again, they were back to lifeless black. He gently stroked the trembling cub in his arms, calming him with soft spiritual energy.
Then, with a slight nod toward the staff, he said, “Thank you.”
He still didn’t know exactly what had just happened to his little cub—but all he could do now was hold him close and soothe him again and again.
The staff, legs weak, took the chance to escape like he’d just been pardoned—bolting without a backward glance.
He Zhouyan acted as if nothing had happened as he brought Lu Congxing out. Even when Bai Ze’s spiritual energy was meant to soothe, it was still overwhelming in its intensity. Lu Congxing was quickly rubbed and nudged into a state where he couldn’t think about anything else.
That sickening voice didn’t return either, as if it was afraid of something.
In a daze, Lu Congxing caught sight of that aloof-looking artist again. Hands in his pockets, he stood outside the exhibition with a detached expression, seemingly unfazed that a painting of his—worth millions—had just gone up in flames.
“Want to go talk to him?” He Zhouyan lowered his head to distract the cub.
“Ji?” Lu Congxing lifted his tiny, pitch-black hoof and glanced at him with his beady black eyes.
How was he supposed to talk to someone like this?
He felt a little disappointed. Guess it would have to wait for next time.
But He Zhouyan either didn’t notice or pretended not to, and simply carried him over with one long stride.
Sensing someone approaching, Lin Yudan didn’t even look up. “I don’t want to talk to you.”
“I’m afraid you don’t have a choice,” He Zhouyan said as he hit send on a pre-written message.
What had happened to the cub being pulled into that painting had put him in a foul mood. If he weren’t trying not to scare the tiny cub in his arms, he would’ve torn the entire gallery apart by now.
Even though he knew the artist wasn’t directly involved, He Zhouyan still gave him a cold look.
If it weren’t for the artist’s endless demands at the beginning, he never would’ve been separated from the cub.
And if the cub had stayed by his side, none of this would’ve happened.
No wonder Danghu broke up with him.
There was a hint of mockery in He Zhouyan’s eyes.
The moment he laid eyes on Lin Yudan, he could tell—this man was a loser.
If you can’t even hold onto the person you love, then what are you but a stray dog?
Less than two minutes after the message was sent, Lin Yudan received a call. His expression darkened instantly.
After coldly hanging up, he looked at He Zhouyan, voice stiff and unfriendly. “Go on. What do you want?”
He looked like someone forced to bow to a villain.
His normally cool and detached face was full of displeasure, yet there was nothing he could do about the man in front of him.
Lu Congxing stepped lightly on the firm muscle beneath him with a small hoof, suddenly struck by the ridiculous idea that he was some kind of femme fatale, while He Zhouyan was the tyrant who would set fire to a kingdom just for a smile from his beloved.
Tyrant He Zhouyan, however, showed no shame about wielding his power. He said plainly, “Why didn’t you call the police?”
That was the question Lu Congxing had wanted to ask the most. He had even started to wonder—was Danghu’s disappearance really unrelated to Lin Yudan?
Could it be that the old lover has become the one holding the knife?
He Zhouyan’s voice was full of suspicion—enough that any normal person would’ve lost their temper.
But Lin Yudan simply shifted his eyes slightly and answered flatly, “Call the police? He’s an adult. He can go wherever he wants.”
So calm, it was almost absurd.
If it weren’t for the slight tremble in his hands, Lu Congxing might’ve actually believed that Danghu had simply gone away for a while.
The hand of the painter—usually so precious, so steady—was now trembling uncontrollably. Yet its owner didn’t seem to notice, standing there stiff and upright, pretending everything was fine.
Lu Congxing struggled to lift his head and met his gaze—eyes filled with something sickly and obsessive.
Like a wounded dog whose sore spot had just been stomped on, Lin Yudan even started to breathe heavily under He Zhouyan’s gaze, which was both scornful and tinged with pity.
And then, at the most unexpected moment, Lu Congxing remembered the first painting he had admired at the exhibition—the one that had been renamed “Imprisonment.”
In that painting, a young man was wrapped tightly in fervent, twisted roses, so much so that his wings were broken and his feet bled.
The desire hidden within the painting was almost tangible—so thick and raw it felt like a lamentation. It laid bare all the artist’s dark and forbidden thoughts, exposing them under the world’s gaze, as if daring everyone to see how the filth of the mud had dared to stain the angel.