FWAPBNPC

Forced to Work After Pretending to Be an NPC [Infinite] – Chapter 65


Sacrificial Lamb (9)


He didn’t know whether to feel relieved or like crying—at the very least, this “Fu Moyang” in front of him could still understand what he was saying.

Chen Li hesitated for a moment before reaching out and ruffling his hair, just like in the last scenario: “Can you let go of me first?”

Fu Moyang stared at him seriously for a few seconds, then, with all sincerity—shook his head.

“No.”

Then he scooped Chen Li into his arms like a child who had finally gotten hold of their favorite toy and refused to let go. With his other hand, he grabbed the red bridal veil and tried to place it over Chen Li’s head.

Chen Li’s vision went red, he couldn’t see a thing. But he could feel how tightly the man was holding him—like he wanted to crush him and fuse him into his very bones.

The old Fu Moyang had shown flashes of a disturbing obsession now and then, but he’d never used this kind of brute force. The man holding him now looked exactly like Fu Moyang, but he felt wilder—more unrestrained, like a beast driven entirely by instinct.

In just a few seconds, Chen Li’s whole body was aching. He gave a quiet gasp of pain and, unable to bear it any longer, lifted the veil and bit down hard on the man’s shoulder.

He didn’t hold back at all. Even through the clothes, the bite left a deep mark.

But Fu Moyang didn’t seem to feel any pain. At least, he did ease his grip a little and stared at Chen Li in a daze: “My… little lamb.”

Something heavy dropped into Chen Li’s mind, stirring up the dust. That phrase echoed the words from his dreams—those tangled, haunting words—and now, at last, the never-before-seen face from those dreams was becoming clear.

Chen Li’s eyelashes trembled, and a chill rippled through him from deep within.

Of course. The person in those dreams had always said things like that.

He should’ve realized it long ago… The one behind those dangerous yet seductive dreams that had haunted him since he was sixteen—was him.

Sensing the trembling in his arms, Fu Moyang bared his teeth like a beast, his expression dark and menacing. A wave of oppressive energy spread outward for miles. The surge of ghostly energy was almost aggressive in its search, sniffing out any threat that might frighten the boy he held. He was like a wild creature with no understanding of rules, acting purely on instinct—desperate to take Chen Li back to his den but unsure how to do it.

He stubbornly reached out to gently stroke Chen Li’s back: “No threats. No bullying. Don’t be afraid.”

Then, after a pause, he added: “We’ll get married.”

Chen Li had just pulled himself out of the realization that his four-year-long dream was somehow tied to his lover. Now, hearing those words, it felt like an electric shock ran through his whole body.

He tried his best not to blush as he asked: “What do you mean, get married? You can’t say something like that so casually.”

Anyone could see that something was seriously off with Fu Moyang right now. If it weren’t for the fact that his energy was identical to the real Fu Moyang’s, Chen Li would have thought this was an imposter.

But that deep familiarity couldn’t be faked. All he could do was try to handle this irrational Fu Moyang with the calmness of an adult.

His tone was like someone trying to scold an overexcited dog that had jumped into its master’s arms—but it only made Fu Moyang more excited. He leaned in again, sniffing all over him like he couldn’t help himself, saying eagerly: “Married. Then you’re mine.”

In his current state, that phrase had already become gospel—as if marriage was the one and only way to bind them together forever. The most direct and effective way to claim him.

For a moment, Chen Li was completely at a loss for what to say.

That was the contradiction of Fu Moyang—sometimes, he could be shockingly innocent in the most unexpected ways.

His stubborn insistence on getting married was one such innocent trait.

Fu Moyang poked Chen Li’s cheek with curiosity: “You’re blushing.”

“I am not!” Chen Li glared at him, but his watery eyes made the denial completely unconvincing.

Fu Moyang picked him up again and turned to leave. He was dressed in ancient-style groom’s robes, the outline of his toned muscles faintly visible under the red fabric. His strong arms held Chen Li steadily, and the red color made the boy in his arms seem both glamorous and noble—while making Fu Moyang look wickedly handsome.

Wearing that devilishly attractive face, he gave a slightly goofy smile: “Let’s go. Get married.”

Chen Li: “…”

No one appeared along the way, as if this strange city pieced together from mismatched architectural styles had been built just for them. Chen Li gave up resisting and instead focused on thinking up a counter-strategy.

It wasn’t until they arrived back at the first room that he finally overcame his embarrassment and pushed against Fu Moyang’s chest: “Wait. I’ll marry you—but you have to follow human customs.”

“Human customs?” The Ghost King, usually wild and unruly, blinked slowly and actually set him down. “Okay.”

That had been his plan all along—to give his beloved little lamb the best possible wedding. That’s why he had created this entire “city” with his own hands. If the lamb hadn’t run away, he wouldn’t have shown up like this.

Breaking human customs…

Humans were a petty species. They’d get angry.

No wonder his little lamb had looked so mad just now.

The Ghost King thought for a moment and suddenly looked a little smug.

But… he bit me just now. That means he must like me, right?

Chen Li had no idea what kind of nonsense was going through Fu Moyang’s head. He just wanted more clues about this place, so he cautiously asked: “Those two who brought me here at the start—where are they?”

Well, they weren’t exactly people. More like ghosts.

Fu Moyang replied flatly: “I killed them.”

His tone was so casual, like he was talking about the weather. But the meaning behind the words was enough to send chills down anyone’s spine.

He didn’t even seem aware of how shocking that might be to a fragile human.

Fu Moyang tried to recall what little he knew about human weddings—there had to be lots of guests, a matchmaker, and other formalities. He just wanted to make sure everything was perfect. So he added: “I can make new ones for you.”

Chen Li unconsciously let out a sigh of relief.

He had guessed right after all—everything here was created by Fu Moyang, even the “people.”

That explained why the old woman and the man with the strange neck seemed unintelligent and abnormal. Like the city itself, they were chaotic and disordered products of this “unconscious” version of Fu Moyang.

If Fu Moyang had such a powerful ability to create, could he possibly make other things too…?

Chen Li suddenly had a bold idea. He lowered his head and said calmly: “According to human customs, the bride and groom aren’t supposed to meet before the wedding. You need to leave.”

Upon hearing this, Fu Moyang visibly grew anxious, but he still didn’t want to “break the rules” and risk ruining the wedding.

The wedding was the only method he had come up with to completely claim Chen Li as his own.

Even if the sky fell, it had to go on. No one could stop the wedding—not anyone else, not even himself.

So Chen Li watched as veins bulged on Fu Moyang’s arms. He panted heavily and paced the room like he was on the verge of exploding, but he forced himself to hold back.

In the end, he came back and hugged Chen Li tightly, burying his face in the crook of his neck like a cat sniffing catnip. After taking a few deep breaths, he suddenly lifted his head and growled through gritted teeth: “I get it. I’ll go.”

Anyone who didn’t know better might’ve thought he was being forced to carve out his own flesh and dig out his heart—when in reality, all he had to do was leave for a short while.

Even though this version of Fu Moyang was clearly different from the one he’d known in the future, Chen Li still couldn’t separate the two in his mind. He reached out and gently ruffled Fu Moyang’s hair: “Be good. It will be quick.”

The experience was strange and new to him. Normally, it was Fu Moyang who held him and spoke gently. Now, their roles had reversed.

After being comforted for a while, Fu Moyang’s grim expression finally softened. Still reluctant, he put the “little lamb” down, turned away without a word, and walked out of the room.

He was afraid that if he didn’t leave now, he’d never be able to.

Once he was gone, the room fell into silence again—until Chen Li suddenly heard a soft, childlike sigh.

His eyes lit up, and he called out, “System?”

System 001 froze for a moment, then quickly responded with a loud shout: [It’s me! I’m here!]

This time the voice was clearer. Chen Li turned his head, and faintly, something round began to appear in the air.

It grew more and more visible until it finally revealed its true form—a glowing ball.

System 001 cried out excitedly and launched itself forward: [Host! I’ve been with you the whole time, but no matter how I called, you couldn’t hear me!]

Chen Li was delighted too: [System, do you know what’s going on here?]

After its initial excitement, System 001 suddenly seemed a bit embarrassed and tried hard to maintain a “mature” image: [This place is actually your memory—events that happened in the past.]

[The past?] Chen Li was surprised, even though he’d had his suspicions.

System 001: [Not the kind of past you’re imagining. If this were truly the past, anything you did here would affect the future—and you might really end up trapped here forever. You can think of this as a kind of memory node. That painting of yours was so infused with spiritual energy that, while it was just a stunning piece of art in the real world, it gained sentience in the Horror Game and pulled you in.]

Chen Li hesitated: [So this Fu Moyang—is he the same one from four years ago?]

Could someone really change that much in just four years?

System 001 wobbled a bit: [Of course not. Even the one you met four years ago wasn’t really the “true” Fu Moyang—it was his core.]

[Core?] Chen Li was taken aback. [I know that every guide NPC has a core, and that destroying the core is the only way to truly kill them. So Fu Moyang is the same?]

Surprisingly, he seemed to accept the fact that his lover wasn’t human quite well.

[You could say all evil beings are like that,] System 001 smacked its mouth thoughtfully. [And the core represents their truest essence. You’ve seen it too—Fu Moyang’s true nature is violent, irrational…]

As the Ghost King, the first and only ghost born in reality, he possessed immense power, and at the same time, his very core was so pitch-black that its color couldn’t even be distinguished.

He didn’t feed on negative emotions—but he was a living embodiment of Hell itself.

Fu Moyang was a natural-born predator. He knew how to disguise himself, wearing a human facade to deceive his prey—but his core, he acted purely on instinct to plunder.

When he saw the sixteen-year-old Chen Li, he didn’t hesitate—he just took him.

System 001: [You can think of it as… the soul of a human. In other words, the Fu Moyang from four years ago was in a state where his “core” and soul were separated. The soul found the sixteen-year-old you and married you. As for everything else… I’m not sure.]

That explanation was already pushing the limits for a system.

System 001 continued: [Host, you really should break up with him. His core nature is just that bad. The way he looks at you—it’s like he wants to bite you to pieces and chew you up, slowly…]

Before it could finish, the glowing ball was smacked.

It was the first time Chen Li had ever hit the system. His tone turned serious: [What nonsense are you talking about? This Fu Moyang is clearly very obedient too.]

System 001: [???]

Obedient? Did he seriously think the whole brutally slaying ghosts because the bride ran away thing was fake???

W-Wait a minute—why did he say “too”?!


Author’s note:

Li Bao: Because the other one is well-behaved too… (?)

Well, at this point, System 001 still hadn’t realized how serious the situation was.

P.S.: Li Bao’s rose-tinted glasses for a certain someone are getting thicker.


FWAPBNPC

Forced to Work After Pretending to Be an NPC [Infinite] – Chapter 64


Sacrificial Lamb (8)


No matter how shocked Chen Li felt inside, he couldn’t move freely. All he could do was stare helplessly as the old woman across from him gave him the exact same stiff smile as the one from outside—the one with the twisted neck.

The old woman’s lips stretched wide, the deep wrinkles on her face squeezing together. Her eyes were so cloudy it made him wonder if she could even see. But when she opened her mouth, everything changed—she spoke in a voice more delicate and sweet than a teenage girl’s: “It doesn’t matter who we are. What matters is you—you’re the bride personally chosen by the master.”

“I’m not!”

For a moment, Chen Li almost thought he was the one who spoke. It took him two seconds to realize it was his body reacting on its own, just like his thoughts.

Everything in front of him was absurd to the extreme—even the “people” felt entirely off—yet the sense of deja vu in his mind only grew stronger. It felt like he was walking a road he’d traveled before. The fog in his mind was slowly lifting, but the clearer it became, the more lost he felt.

The old woman didn’t seem angry at his outburst. She just smiled at him kindly: “Hurry and change your clothes. Don’t miss the auspicious hour.”

The auspicious hour—again with the auspicious hour.

Chen Li couldn’t help but frown. The paper figures that came to fetch the bride earlier this morning said the same thing.

Could this place be something Fu Moyang set up?

He quickly rejected that idea.

No matter how twisted Fu Moyang was, he wouldn’t go this far just to scare him. Besides, System 001 had vanished too.

So where was this place?

A memory?

But he had no memory of anything like this.

After saying her piece, the old woman took out a red wedding robe and tossed it to him. Just before closing the door, she left him with one last warning: “Hurry up. If the master gets angry, none of us will have a good ending.”

Her final words were muffled by the closed door, but the threat behind them lingered heavily in the air.

Chen Li felt his body tremble—clearly frightened by her words. He cautiously picked up the red robe and clumsily began to put it on.

He had no idea what he was doing, slipping the robe on haphazardly. Amidst the chaos, he managed to get the bright red, gold-threaded garment somewhat on. The decorative pendants—strings of pearls, beads, and jade—rubbed against his skin, leaving faint red marks. The craftsmanship was excellent: luxurious yet tasteful. If it hadn’t appeared in such a bizarre situation, this robe would have been a top-tier masterpiece.

Even though it was worn carelessly—with clasps misbuttoned and ties hanging loose—it didn’t diminish how stunning it looked on him.

It highlighted the fullness of his lips and the whiteness of his teeth, making him look even more like an innocent and carefree noble boy, untouched by the world.

The moment he finished putting the robe on, Chen Li felt control over his body return. He raised his hand blankly and stared at it.

It was a familiar hand—smooth and slender, with perfectly rounded fingers.

He didn’t need a second to recognize it. This was his own hand.

He looked around the room and quickly spotted a mirror on the vanity. Rushing over, he stared into the reflection. Even though he’d been prepared, the moment his eyes met the anxious young face in the mirror, a wave of shock and disbelief crashed over him.

No one knew this face better than he did—it was his sixteen-year-old self.

In truth, the difference between this face and his current twenty-year-old one wasn’t very big. He’d always had a baby face, and time seemed to favor him—people often mistook him for a high schooler, even though he was already about to graduate college.

At sixteen, his features were only a little more youthful—subtle differences in the shape of his eyes and brows.

He pinched his own cheek and, to his dismay, confirmed that this really was his current body. Even his height had shrunk by a few centimeters.

From 175 cm, he was now barely 170.

Thinking of the “master” the old woman had mentioned, Chen Li grabbed his robe and made up his mind to escape.

He didn’t know when he might lose control of his body again. Whoever was forcing him into this marriage, he wasn’t going to sit back and let it happen.

Otherwise, someone might just die of jealousy.

With that thought, Chen Li’s previously hesitant heart suddenly became resolute. He stepped onto a rosewood chair and climbed through the unlocked window.

The ghosts here must not be very smart—they hadn’t even considered he might try to run. So once he made it outside, no one stopped him.

The hem of the robe got in his way, so he bundled it up in his arms and ran, picking a direction and sprinting straight ahead. He’d assumed he was in some ancient setting, but after running a short distance, he saw a few small buildings with green tiles and red bricks. After passing them, he suddenly found himself on a bustling commercial street filled with modern atmosphere.

The style of this place was wildly inconsistent, its most striking feature being the complete lack of cohesion in its design.

The buildings looked like they had been pieced together from different eras and places—even the “people” seemed the same way. It was clear someone had tried to replicate real-world architecture by copying and pasting large sections, but instead of creating familiarity, it only emphasized how fragmented everything was. No one would ever mistake this place for reality.

Whoever created this place clearly wasn’t very smart.

That was what Chen Li thought, though he didn’t dare let his guard down as he ran.

Unfortunately, luck wasn’t on his side this time. He heard footsteps behind him—someone was chasing him.

It was like a cat toying with a mouse, deliberately letting him hear the sound. The pursuer kept just enough distance to be heard but never caught up, always lingering just behind.

At first, Chen Li thought it might be the old woman from earlier. But the oppressive aura pressing in from behind made his whole body feel wrong. A chill rose from the soles of his feet and seeped into his bones. This was no mere old woman—this was something far more dangerous.

Chen Li’s heart skipped a beat. With the last of his strength, he rammed into a nearby door. Though it looked locked, it burst open the moment he hit it, sending him tumbling inside.

He crashed to the floor—and when he looked up, he was met with hundreds, maybe thousands, of human heads.

Just before he could scream, he realized they weren’t real.

They were bronze—cast human heads bearing expressions of serene compassion, packed tightly together, all staring downward at anyone who entered. Staring at him—a small sacrificial offering that had delivered itself.

This was an altar. A shrine dedicated to some unknown and long-forgotten god.

In the real world, this might have been an ordinary temple, but here, in this twisted place, it radiated a dark, malevolent energy. The altar had come alive.

Maybe it was just his imagination, but it seemed like the countless heads above him shifted slightly, their gazes following him as he stood up.

Outside, the terrifying footsteps were drawing closer. If he had stayed calm and analyzed it, he might have noticed that the sounds were still outside—but they were being amplified, as if someone were piping them straight into his ears.

But a frightened little prey doesn’t have the mind for such details. All that remained in his head was a single thought: Run!

His face pale, he stumbled further inside, not realizing he was stepping right into the jaws of the beast.

The delicate ornaments on his robe—strings of emerald beads and pendants—clinked together with clear, ringing sounds. The golden embroidery of phoenix tail feathers swept across his ankles. And the moment he stepped into the center of the altar, the stone eyes of several carved lion statues began to glow red.

These were guardian beasts meant to restrain offerings—bathed in blood for a hundred days and nights until even their insides were soaked with violence. Anything that once held a glimmer of life or a chance to escape had no hope of slipping past their claws.

A roar erupted from the stone lions—they were moving. As if truly alive, the statues sprang into motion, their stone bodies unnaturally agile as they lunged toward the boy at the center of the altar.

Chen Li hadn’t expected his luck to be this bad. The moment the lions pinned down his wrists and ankles, forcing him to the ground, he gave up any futile attempt to struggle.

These creatures didn’t even need to exert real effort. Their sheer weight alone was enough to crush him—to splatter his blood across the entire altar.

And as if things weren’t bad enough, the owner of those approaching footsteps finally appeared at the door. Sunlight spilled in behind him, casting a golden rim around his silhouette.

He didn’t need to speak—just standing there, he exuded a sharp, silent menace. The air thickened with danger.

Chen Li shut his eyes in despair.

The man approached with a hint of amusement, casually holding a piece of red cloth in one hand. It was as if he couldn’t see the predicament Chen Li was in. Kneeling on one knee, he leaned down and looked at him with a faint smile: “You forgot this.”

Even if the tone was wrong, the moment that voice reached his ears, Chen Li’s eyes flew open. His round, almond-shaped eyes widened, shimmering like pale-colored cat’s-eye gems. His breath caught: “Fu Moyang!”

But the man standing above him gave no response to his name—not even a flicker of recognition. Like a child who didn’t understand what was wrong, he tilted his head slightly, still insisting: “You forgot this.”

He extended his hand again, showing him the object.

Chen Li’s gaze moved warily from those beast-like vertical pupils to the red cloth in his hand.

It wasn’t just a piece of fabric. It matched the ornate clothing Chen Li wore—it was a traditional bridal veil, the kind meant to cover the bride’s face.

The sight of it nearly made Chen Li think he was having that strange dream again. Why else would this veil be here? And when he looked down, the clothes on his body were identical to what he had worn in that dream. It was only because his mind had been in chaos that he hadn’t realized it sooner.

His thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a sharp pain at the corner of his eye.

Fu Moyang had reached out and harshly pinched the skin just beneath his eye. His gaze was twisted with obsessive intensity: “Why won’t you look at me?”

Only when that small patch of skin turned red and those beautiful eyes finally looked at him again did he seem satisfied.

With the flush of color around his eyes, Chen Li looked like he had just been bullied into tears. After calling the man’s name once, he fell silent.

He realized something was very wrong.

The person in front of him was no longer Fu Moyang—at least, not the one he knew. What stood before him was a wild beast, driven purely by instinct and impulse. There was no reason, no emotion—just raw, animalistic desire.

He was Fu Moyang, and yet, not.

The man didn’t give him time to think. Just as Chen Li feared, he moved like a dominant predator. Leaning down, he brought his face close to Chen Li’s neck and began sniffing him—slow and deliberate.

From top to bottom, he pressed his face against his skin, as if inspecting a precious little treat he had caught. Savoring his scent like a lion circling its prey.

And then, obsession and madness gave way to something deeper, more dangerous. The silver-grey pupils contracted to sharp slits, a storm of unspoken hunger raging within.

Somehow, the stone lions had slunk back to their original spots, returning to lifeless statues once more.

Everywhere the man’s high-bridged nose brushed over flushed pink. Chen Li gasped softly, his fingers curling involuntarily. The intensity of the sensation pressed against his chest, leaving him almost breathless.

“W–wait…!”

Fu Moyang’s hand moved to Chen Li’s belt. Tied hastily in panic, it would only take a gentle tug to unravel—to reveal everything beneath.

Even though the man’s desire surged like a tidal wave, threatening to spill over, he abruptly stopped.

His beast-like eyes showed a flash of confusion and—strangely—grievance, like a dog scolded by its master just before dinner. He tilted his head in puzzlement: “Little… lamb?”


FWAPBNPC

Forced to Work After Pretending to Be an NPC [Infinite] – Chapter 63


Sacrificial Lamb (7)


A strange expression crossed Chen Li’s face. He seemed lost in some memory and couldn’t answer the question for a moment.

But to the ghost watching, this silence looked like he was thinking about another man right in front of him.

Chen Li suddenly felt a sharp pain on his lip. He looked up in disbelief and asked with a hint of grievance: “Why did you bite me?”

“Jealousy.”

Fu Moyang’s reply was firm and unapologetic. Chen Li tilted his head up, slightly stunned, his mouth parted in surprise. The blush that had just faded crept back to the tips of his ears.

But his body moved faster than his dazed brain. He reached out, wrapped his arms around Fu Moyang’s neck, and pulled him closer—wanting to show with his actions that there was no need for jealousy, and he shouldn’t be jealous to begin with.

What had started as a relatively normal pose quickly devolved under the indulgence of a certain ghost. The two of them tumbled onto the soft bed together.

Fu Moyang reached out to brace himself while protectively pulling Chen Li into his arms. He raised an eyebrow, curious to see what Chen Li would do next.

Then he was kissed—lightly, but directly on the lips.

Reality finally sank in. Chen Li looked up nervously at Fu Moyang. It was his first time mustering the courage to kiss a man… but why wasn’t there any reaction?

Did he do it wrong?

Thinking back to what the man had done earlier, Chen Li hesitantly stuck out his little tongue and gave a quick lick or two.

Fu Moyang could almost hear the sound of something snapping—that was the breaking point of his strained self-control. He reached out and pinned the teasing little prey who thought he could just run off, turning the tables and taking the lead.

At that moment, fragments of faint images flashed through his mind. They’d appeared before during his time with Chen Li, but never had they been this vivid.

Figures flitted in the background, glasses clinked—it felt like something was on the verge of emerging.

But right now, kissing was obviously more important. Fu Moyang didn’t hesitate to pull his awareness away from the memories.

The sound of water echoed again, heavy and rhythmic, broken occasionally by soft, breathless moans.

By the time Chen Li came to his senses, most of his red wedding robe had already been stripped off. The man’s hand was pressed against his soft, slender waist—clearly the hand of a ghost, yet it burned with searing heat.

“W-Wait…” Chen Li, relying on his animal-like instinct, quickly pushed against him.

His hands pressed against a firm, muscular chest—but it didn’t budge at all.

Fu Moyang was in an excellent mood, as if savoring the delicate texture of a sweet, tender cake. The waist beneath his palm was even more supple than it looked—soft flesh sinking slightly between his fingers.

Tears welled up in Chen Li’s eyes from the teasing. He stammered out: “Y-Your hand just touched my foot.”

Fu Moyang smiled: “Disgusted with yourself?”

But in the end, he didn’t want to scare off the little prey he had just coaxed into his grasp. Reluctantly, he reined in his surging desire and withdrew his hand.

A very perceptive paper figurine brought over a bowl of water for him to wash his hands.

It was only then that Chen Li noticed the little paper figures. Their faces were crudely drawn with cheap ink, but once he realized they were made by Fu Moyang, they no longer seemed scary—just strange, especially considering they had been there the whole time…

Watching Chen Li suddenly bury himself under the blanket like an ostrich, Fu Moyang couldn’t help but chuckle.

How adorable.

He calmly wiped his hands: “They’re not conscious.”

“Oh.” A muffled voice came from beneath the blanket.

Fu Moyang felt his chest swell with something almost sickeningly sweet. After the boy’s clumsy but sincere attempt at a kiss just now, he felt like a lone wolf whose fur had finally been stroked the right way—thoroughly pleased in both body and soul. Although the thought of that wedding dream still made him want to kill someone, at least he could hide it for now.

Waving his hand to send the paper figures away, Fu Moyang peeled Chen Li out from under the blanket like unwrapping a soft, white, sticky rice dumpling. He gently pinched his squishy cheek and asked: “So, what was that dream about?”

At the mention of the dream, hazy, unsettling images began to surface again. Chen Li couldn’t quite grasp them, but they felt oddly familiar.

He looked up, his voice tinged with excitement: “I drew it. Want to see?”

Then he hesitated, a little embarrassed.

Like a fluffy little bird gathering the courage to show its shiny treasure to someone it liked.

A clumsy act of sharing.

Even if the little bird didn’t know whether its shiny thing was a precious gem or just a smooth piece of glass, it didn’t matter—it was still proud and chirping, eager to show it off.

Fu Moyang’s gaze softened as he ruffled the boy’s messy bangs: “Of course I want to see it.”

He silently thought to himself that the boy’s painting was definitely the best in the world—except for that extra person in the picture, whom he absolutely wouldn’t let slide.

He would make sure that person was torn apart, damned forever, never daring to approach the boy again. In the end, he would brand the boy with his own mark, erasing that person completely from his memory.

No one could see the terrifying emotions Fu Moyang was hiding beneath his calm expression.

Chen Li called out to System 001 and had the drawing retrieved from the system space. Just before showing it, he shyly added: “I just doodled a bit—don’t expect too much.”

The little bird was shy again at the moment of sharing. If he really had feathers, he’d probably be puffed up into a little ball by now.

Even a painting that won first place in the national youth art competition became “just a doodle” in his mouth.

System 001: Ugh, the smell of love in the air is killing me.

Fu Moyang’s murderous aura was practically bleeding through the paper, yet he still handled the drawing with utmost care.

He could sense Chen Li’s essence in every line, every stroke—it was a piece of his heart.

A mix of jealousy and reverence surged within him as he let out a cold chuckle and unfolded the drawing.

Let’s see exactly who this person is… the one who keeps appearing in my little lamb’s wedding dreams.

. . . . .

The sudden change happened in an instant. When Chen Li finally came to his senses again, he found himself standing in an abyss of complete darkness.

He couldn’t see the path ahead, nor the ground beneath his feet. Every step he took fell into nothingness, as if the next step would send him plunging into a bottomless void.

Chen Li pinched himself to make sure he wasn’t dreaming before calling out: “Fu Moyang? 001?”

He listened carefully for a long moment, but to his disappointment, there was no response.

He didn’t understand how he had gone from looking at paintings with Fu Moyang in the temple just seconds ago to being here now. Swallowing his fear of the unknown, Chen Li forced himself to take a step forward.

Darkness surrounded him on all sides, and wherever he went, it all seemed the same.

After walking for an unknown amount of time, Chen Li kept calling out “001” in his mind over and over. When still no reply came, the panic inside him gradually grew.

When he entered this instance, for some unknown reason, his mission panel wouldn’t open. That was a fatal problem for an NPC, but he wasn’t afraid because he knew he wasn’t alone—System 001 was with him.

But now, even System 001 was gone. There was no choice but to keep moving forward.

He didn’t know how long he walked—ten minutes? Half an hour? Maybe three hours—until finally, he saw a light ahead.

Time seemed to slow down unbearably in the darkness.

He ran toward the light, but just as he was about to step into it, a skeletal, withered hand shot out, clawing at his wrist and dragging him harshly back out of the darkness.

Chen Li didn’t have time to react before a sharp voice rang in his ear.

“We’ve found the bride!”

The voice was hoarse and grating, scraping across his eardrums like sandpaper.

Chen Li looked at the speaker in confusion.

The bride? Who?

Sensing his gaze, the person turned his head around, revealing a stiff, forced smile.

“Don’t be afraid, bride.”

How could he not be afraid?!

Chen Li tensed like a scared animal, every fiber of his being screaming “resist.” Finally, he saw the face of the one who had grabbed him.

Though the person’s back was turned when he reached out, his head and neck had twisted around in a bizarre, unnatural way to face Chen Li directly.

His neck cracked audibly from the unnatural contortion, layers of flesh folded grotesquely over each other.

He seemed unfazed by any pain, smiling to himself: “Come on, hurry up. Don’t keep the master waiting.”

Chen Li’s eyes widened in shock. Somehow summoning courage, he shouted: “I’m not!”

The man’s steps didn’t stop. With surprising strength, he pulled Chen Li forward. Though his neck was twisted toward Chen Li, it was as if the back of his head had eyes too, as he skillfully avoided obstacles without hesitation.

He smiled at Chen Li again. The laugh that came with it was even more hoarse and grating than his voice: “If you’re not, then who is?”

I’m not your master’s bride!

Chen Li wanted to shout his denial, but found he couldn’t make a sound.

It was as if his soul had been trapped inside a hollow shell — all he could do was watch helplessly as “he” followed the strange figure.

The “person” leading him seemed very pleased with his supposed obedience and let out another series of sickening bone-cracking sounds as he turned his head back around.

After the grotesquely twisted neck returned to its normal position, the skin hung loosely and sagged unnaturally.

Then, to Chen Li’s horror, he saw a pair of eyes open on the back of the man’s head. They looked like ill-fitting parts forcefully jammed into place, as if someone had torn eyes from elsewhere and shoved them in. The eyeballs, now embedded in the back of the skull, looked dangerously unstable, threatening to fall out at any moment. Yet despite their grotesque state, the bulging eyes stayed focused on him, bloodshot and unblinking.

In the final second before being dragged into the room, Chen Li fell into a stunned silence.

So there really were eyes on the back of his head…

There was no time to think further — click! — the door locked behind him.

A more delicate laugh echoed inside the room: “Hehehe, how adorable. Is this the master’s bride?”

Chen Li felt a headache coming on. He wanted to yell out that they were wrong, that he wasn’t who they thought — but the version of “him” in reality only opened his mouth timidly and asked in a small voice: “E-excuse me, who… who are you?”

A familiar voice rang out.

Chen Li’s heart began to pound wildly. He couldn’t tell if it was from fear or shock, but the sensation was overwhelming.

A deep sense of deja vu washed over him—and then he realized, with chilling clarity:

That voice was his own… from years ago.


Author’s note:
We can’t let someone get their hands on our adorable Li Bao so easily~


FWAPBNPC

Forced to Work After Pretending to Be an NPC [Infinite] – Chapter 62


Sacrificial Lamb (6)


Almost the moment he spoke, Chen Li’s trembling body froze. His hands gripped tightly at the front of his chest, clutching the fabric of his clothing. His pale neck was arched upward, as if offering himself as a sacrifice. He just stared blankly at the “god” emerging from the shrine without blinking.

Fu Moyang wanted to tenderly brush away the redness at the corner of Chen Li’s eyes caused by fear, but he restrained himself. Instead, he asked softly: “Did I scare you?”

Watching Chen Li dress himself in the wedding clothes, an intense satisfaction mixed with a twisted possessiveness rose deep within Fu Moyang’s heart. A voice screamed inside him, urging him to imprison Chen Li forever like this.

A sacrificed lamb should always stay by his side.

Even someone as powerful as him felt unbearably uneasy in this moment.

The last thing he wanted was for the little lamb to fear him because of his identity.

The lamb’s dependent gaze was addictive, he wanted to bask in it for a lifetime.

But the little lamb was so afraid of ghosts—how could he not be terrified once he knew Fu Moyang’s true nature?

Fu Moyang clenched his fists tightly. He felt like a condemned sinner facing judgment, with Chen Li no longer a sacrifice but the judge who could damn him to hell with a single word. He longed for forgiveness, for salvation.

Yet, at the same time, dark, possessive thoughts twisted inside him—he wanted to drag Chen Li into his own world, no matter how much the lamb feared and struggled, to bind him forever until death.

Chen Li remained silent, blinking rapidly twice but still staring fixedly at him, as if he might vanish at any moment.

All the dark thoughts within Fu Moyang’s heart dissolved in those moist, vulnerable eyes. He carried Chen Li deeper into the shrine but was reluctant to let him go. Softly, he coaxed: “What’s wrong? Did someone bully you?”

When the word “bully” was mentioned, his expression darkened slightly, hiding a murderous intent. It was as if, with just a nod from Chen Li, he wouldn’t be able to hold back from violently descending the mountain and slaughtering the entire town.

As his emotions fluctuated, the wind outside howled fiercely, and a few rumbles of thunder roared like angry beasts.

Chen Li and he locked eyes, and suddenly, without warning, Chen Li reached out and grabbed Fu Moyang’s face. Even so, it didn’t damage his handsome features, but it forcibly wiped away that hint of wickedness.

Even the raging wind outside fell silent in that instant.

The paper figurines who had sneaked in behind them happened to witness this scene. Startled by Chen Li’s audacious action, they screamed in panic before all falling flat on the ground, pretending to be dead.

Chen Li pinched his face to confirm, then let go. The look of grievance on his face became unbearable, and he suddenly threw himself onto Fu Moyang’s chest, fiercely demanding: “W-why did you only come now?”

He had imagined many possibilities, but none had prepared him for this reaction. Fu Moyang’s hands moved faster than his mind and smoothed Chen Li’s hair.

Realizing his chest felt damp, Fu Moyang’s heart twisted painfully.

All the tangled emotions and confusion inside Chen Li were replaced by the sudden surge of tenderness pressing against his chest.

Fu Moyang, almost helpless and flustered, stroked his back, saying: “I’ve always been here. Don’t be afraid.”

Chen Li rubbed against his chest: “I thought you weren’t coming.”

Although he tried hard to sound fierce, the tearful tone at the end betrayed him.

Even Chen Li himself didn’t realize what he was saying. He just felt very wronged. With a fierce yet somewhat guilty expression, he wiped his tears on Fu Moyang’s collar, trying to erase all evidence.

Then his chin was lifted, and he was met with a sea of shimmering silver-grey eyes.

Those sparkling, mesmerizing eyes drew closer and closer. Chen Li’s limbs stiffened, and his animal instincts screamed to run, but instead of fleeing, he foolishly closed his eyes.

First, his lips were tentatively licked. When it was clear he didn’t resist, the kiss deepened and entered without restraint.

It was the first time they kissed while both were fully conscious, but their skill levels were worlds apart.

Chen Li whimpered softly, his fingers curling up in embarrassment, yet he didn’t pull away. When he struggled for air, Fu Moyang would release him briefly before continuing the kiss. The sounds of wet smacks made anyone blush.

Time passed without Chen Li knowing how long. When his tears were roughly kissed away, Fu Moyang finally released him, breathing a little heavily as he whispered in his ear: “Do you know what this means?”

Chen Li blinked, his face as red as a ripe peach: “Yes, I do.”

His voice was so quiet it was almost inaudible, but to Fu Moyang’s ears, it was clearer than any response ever could be.

This was his offering, his judge, responding to his most shameful desire.

There would never be a wine more intoxicating than this, no scenery more breathtaking, and no treasure that could rival the brilliance of this moment.

Fu Moyang leaned closer, his voice low and steady, pressing into Chen Li’s ear as he asked again, patiently: “Do you understand what this means?”

His hands, gripping Chen Li’s, strained veins from holding back, wanting to knead him into his very bones, into his blood and flesh.

The suppressed dark desires flared up uncontrollably once more.

What does this mean—

It means the little lamb agrees to offer himself as a sacrifice.

He is the world’s most perfect offering. The greedy ghost would never let him go again, becoming his sharpest weapon and, at the same time, his strongest prison. Marking this innocent little lamb—who bleats foolishly after stepping into the beast’s lair—with the ghost’s brand, leaving the deepest imprint on his soul.

From now on, no one can separate them—not even life or death.

He is the ghost’s prey.

Chen Li suddenly laughed. His eyes curved and the corners of his mouth lifted into a bright, carefree smile. “I know,” he said. “It means we’re starting to date.”

Fu Moyang’s breath caught. The twisted, corrupted look in his silvery-grey eyes melted into something entirely different at that smile. As if he couldn’t quite process it, he repeated the word: “Date?”

It felt like an electric current ran through his whole body.

When that word came from Chen Li’s mouth, it seemed to carry some special kind of sweetness—so sweet it was almost cloying.

Chen Li’s eyes widened like he’d just made a discovery: “Your ears are red!”

Fu Moyang’s tone abruptly turned calm: “You’re seeing things.”

Chen Li tilted his head: “Now your face is red too… oh, and your neck.”

Unable to hide how he felt, Fu Moyang simply lowered his head and kissed him fiercely—though the actual kiss was far gentler than it looked.

When they pulled apart, both of their faces were flushed.

With his fair skin, Chen Li looked especially soft and pink all over. He muttered under his breath: “You’re bullying me.”

“Mhm.” Fu Moyang didn’t deny it. He gently bit Chen Li’s hand. “But it’s too late for you to run now.”

Chen Li gave a soft “Oh,” and thought a little awkwardly, Not that I wanted to run anyway.

His mood lightened again, as if a caged little bird in his chest had finally been set free.

So this is what it felt like to like Fu Moyang.

Chen Li couldn’t help swinging his feet happily.

There wasn’t even a hint of fear in his heart—only excitement.

Just like the first time he had that strange dream: he’d woken up scared and shaken, but deep down, he couldn’t deny the curiosity he felt toward that eerie world.

Maybe, he thought, I’m just crazy.

A coward who’s drawn to horror.

As he swung his legs, a piece of forgotten fabric slipped off and fell to the ground. Chen Li stopped, his cheerful movement halted as he looked at the red wedding veil lying there.

“…”

“…”

The unpleasant memory of being offered up like a sacrifice came flooding back.

The slow-on-the-uptake boy finally realized something was wrong. He narrowed his eyes. “Wait a minute—why are you the god in this shrine?”

So who’s the NPC and who’s the player here?!

Why is his identity so much cooler than him?!

Chen Li was indignant, and System 001’s words began to echo in his mind.

The real sacrifice in this instance should have been the player, but somehow it had become him. If he had doubts before, seeing Fu Moyang now made everything crystal clear.

It was definitely his doing!

The spoiled and bratty little lamb lifted his foot to kick him: “Confess and be treated leniently. Resist and be punished harshly!”

The paper figures, who had just barely recovered from the terrifying threat of death, accidentally witnessed this scene again and were so frightened that they crashed into each other and fell to the ground.

What a—what a bold human! So terrifying!

But Chen Li had forgotten something important.

He had been dragged here in his sleep, so he wasn’t wearing shoes. The red cloth that had turned into a wedding robe obviously hadn’t turned into shoes either.

So when the man grabbed his foot, the calloused hand rubbed against the soft sole, instantly making his round toes blush pink, and faintly revealing beautiful bluish-purple veins on his tense arch.

Chen Li trembled slightly and tried to pull his foot back: “Let go of me.”

Fu Moyang spoke slowly: “Weren’t you curious about who I am?”

“I don’t know where I came from or how I was born. I was already in a soul state when I gained consciousness—what you humans commonly call… a ghost.”

“I’ve drifted through the world. Some have called me the origin of all ghosts. But strangely enough, aside from me, there are no other ghosts in the world. Meaning the world you live in—has no supernatural elements.”

As he spoke, he casually circled Chen Li’s ankle with his hand, not letting him escape.

Chen Li was so flustered he couldn’t think straight. A few fragmented words flashed through his dizzy mind, and he barely managed to make sense of what was being said.

“Ghost,” “origin of all ghosts,” “supernatural.”

He awkwardly reached out his hand and gave him a light push: “Y-Yes, there are… there are supernatural occurrences.”

Fu Moyang lowered his eyelids slightly: “Hmm?”

He hadn’t expected that Chen Li’s first reaction upon learning his new boyfriend wasn’t human wouldn’t be fear, but that his focus would drift off to something else entirely.

Mistaking his silence for disbelief, Chen Li ignored his poor foot’s predicament and earnestly said: “I’ve experienced them often.”

Fu Moyang found his serious and adorable expression oddly endearing—like coaxing a clueless little child: “Can you tell me about one?”

Chen Li: “When I was sixteen, I kept having the same dream. It didn’t even feel like a dream—it was too vivid and surreal.”

That was indeed odd. Humans don’t usually have the exact same dream repeatedly.

Fu Moyang raised an eyebrow: “What dream?”

“A wedding dream,” Chen Li said, lifting his hand. “I was wearing wedding robes kind of like this one! But… it’s still a little different from the dream…”

Before he could finish, he was suddenly cut off.

The once lazy and contented ghost’s expression turned cold and stormy, his voice icy as he asked:

“Who were you marrying?”


Author’s note:
Raise your hand if you’re looking forward to the wedding night! 💍✨


FWAPBNPC

Forced to Work After Pretending to Be an NPC [Infinite] – Chapter 61


Sacrificial Lamb (5)


The piercing sound stabbed straight through his eardrums, sending a wave of pain through his head. It took Chen Li a full five seconds to connect the word “sacrifice” with his own situation.

He asked stubbornly: [Is this really the job of a Holy Son?]

System 001 responded with both anger and sympathy: [No. You’re being used as a sacrifice.]

Everything about being a neighbor of the Zhou family had been a lie. The High Priest had decided to offer him as a new sacrifice to the shrine in the mountains. Yesterday’s events had just been a performance to lower his guard.

System 001 continued: [I asked the other guide NPCs. According to those who’ve played the game ‘Crimson Funeral,’ the plot should’ve gone like this: the eldest son of the Zhou family is killed, and then the player is offered as a sacrifice. But for some reason… you ended up being the one chosen.]

Though the NPCs outside were in a complete panic, once a dungeon instance begins, no one can enter again.

Now, they could only rely on System 001’s broadcast to know what was happening to him.

Even though he was terrified himself, Chen Li still tried to comfort them: [I’ll be okay. Please don’t worry too much.]

He struggled for several minutes, but all it did was nearly scrape the delicate skin on his wrists—completely useless. Maybe the noise alerted someone outside, as the curtain was suddenly lifted and someone stepped in.

Blinding sunlight pierced through. The sound of drums and gongs outside grew louder. The person who entered had probably come to issue a warning, but upon seeing the scene inside the sedan chair, he froze, suspiciously silent.

Dark black hair, fair skin, blindfolded under red cloth, tied up loosely like a beautiful prey waiting nervously for his fate—he evoked pity and, at the same time, awakened a dark, indescribable desire.

The man clicked his tongue mockingly and reached out to tilt Chen Li’s chin. When Chen Li dodged, he didn’t get angry, merely crouched down in front of him with a smirk: “No wonder you’re a guide NPC. That drug would knock out three grown men until morning, but you’re still too weak. I’ve never seen an NPC this fragile.”

As soon as he spoke, Chen Li recognized him—it was the one from the group of players wearing a colorful floral shirt. He’d seemed like a troublemaker from the start.

It was the first time in the game that Chen Li had so plainly appeared weak. Panic surged in his heart, but he forced himself to appear calm: “You’re colluding with the High Priest?”

The player didn’t even bother denying it: “Yeah. The townspeople went crazy yesterday. If we didn’t cooperate, we’d probably have been torn apart. This is my first time colluding with an NPC to kill another NPC.”

Chen Li’s heart sank.

Kill.

Even the players believed being a sacrifice meant certain death.

The colorful floral shirt guy kept rambling: “I love pretty little things like you. Such a shame. Don’t worry, though. We’ll find out who the real culprit in this instance is. If anyone truly wronged you, it’s the one who killed the Zhou family’s chosen sacrifice.”

Chen Li frowned: “Weren’t you investigating the town’s missing person cases?”

“They’re all dead,” the floral shirt man said lazily. “All those like you—Holy Sons—they’ve all died. The town just claims they’re ‘missing.’ Crazy, right?”

“This instance’s filthy. Some people get to be worshipped as Holy Sons or Holy Maidens, bask in the town’s glory. But once too many die, they call in detectives like us. Others are sacrificed quietly and no one even cares.”

As he spoke, his hands started to wander toward Chen Li again: “It’s all just luck. Too bad yours ran out. Those townspeople worshipped you yesterday, but when the High Priest said you were the best substitute sacrifice for the Zhou family heir, they tied you up without a second thought.”

Chen Li kept dodging his greasy hands as best he could, snapping: “Luck? This was all the High Priest’s decision!”

Kneeling and tied, his movements were restricted, and he could only avoid as much as possible.

Just as that disgusting hand was about to touch his lips, all noise from outside suddenly vanished—as if someone had hit the pause button.

The silence was eerie.

The man in the colorful floral shirt withdrew his hand and suddenly looked grim, stepping outside: “What the hell is going on—urk!”

Before he could finish, his voice cut off like a duck being strangled. His face turned dark purple, mouth gaping like he couldn’t breathe.

Chen Li squirmed nervously: [What’s happening out there? Did they run into the wedding procession?]

System 001’s voice turned strange and complex: [Someone… something… has come to escort you.]

Chen Li was stunned: [What?]

Before he could process it, the noise outside resumed—but this time, instead of the chaotic noise of a festival, there was an eerie, rhythmic suona1 tune playing.

The suona played a wedding tune. A cheerful female voice called out: “Please, bride, step out—”

Then came the voices of many children behind her: “Please, bride, step out—”

They repeated it again and again, clearly intending not to stop until Chen Li came out.

With a loud crack, the man in the colorful floral shirt was thrown away from the doorway like a sack of rotten flesh.

Then, without a blade in sight, the ropes binding Chen Li’s hands and feet snapped apart.

He flexed his sore wrists, tore off the red blindfold blocking his vision, and carefully stood up, clinging to one final hope: [Surely they don’t mean me as the bride, right?]

After all, he was a perfectly normal man.

But with System 001’s silence, Chen Li’s heart sank further.

He didn’t want to go outside, but the voices outside grew more and more aggressive.

Even without stepping out, he could feel the ominous wind howling.

That woman’s voice came again: “Please don’t miss the auspicious hour.”

As her final word fell, the giggling voices of the children turned hoarse and unpleasant—until they devolved into wailing.

Dozens of children crying at once… it was enough to shatter the last of anyone’s resolve.

Covering his ears, Chen Li stepped outside. The moment he saw the scene outside, regret surged through him. Trembling, he instinctively tried to retreat and play dead.

You couldn’t blame him for being scared—honestly, the fact that he hadn’t passed out was already his greatest achievement.

As he lifted the curtain, he almost thought he’d stepped into the underworld. It was still daylight, but the sun was blocked by dark clouds. A gloomy and eerie green mist hung in the air, and in front of the long procession stood—

A group of paper figures, pale as death, with crude features and faces thin as cicada wings.

The children who had just been wailing for so long—turned out to be paper figures too.

As soon as they saw him come out, they all turned their blank, staring eyes on him. Their crimson mouths slowly curled open, and in unison they called out:
“The bride!”

At that awkward title, Chen Li’s expression changed, and he instinctively turned to pull the curtain back down. Unfortunately, he wasn’t given the chance. A red ribbon interwoven with golden threads suddenly wrapped around his waist. It moved like a living thing, winding tightly around him before lifting him into the air and flinging him into the bridal sedan across from him.

Yes, across from him was another procession. If one could ignore the eerie and horrifying nature of the paper figures, the scene looked just like a grand and festive wedding parade.

The bridal sedan was more than twice the size of theirs, elaborately carved, decorated with genuine gold and silver—everything screamed wealth and extravagance.

But at that moment, Chen Li had no time to admire whether the jade hanging on the sedan was Hetian jade or something else. His mind was a chaotic mess of panic. He was even worried the sedan would crush the paper figures who barely reached his waist.

As it turned out, he needn’t have worried. The four light, fluttering paper figures carried the large sedan with perfect balance—smooth, without a single jolt.

It was only then that Chen Li noticed something was wrong with the townspeople.

He had assumed they were simply too frightened to speak because of the paper figures. But when he looked around, he realized every one of them had invisible chains clamped around their throats. Their faces were flushed purple with pain, clearly suffocating.

Their limbs were stiff and rigid, as though bound by something unseen, unable to move. Even the high and mighty High Priest wasn’t spared—he looked the worst of all, his spine bent under the pressure.

Judging from their horrified expressions, it was obvious that these paper figures had never appeared in any previous ritual.

Their twisted, hideous faces didn’t look human at all.

For some reason, four words flashed through Chen Li’s mind again: “Ghost…between your legs.”

Unfortunately, he didn’t have time to test the thought. The red ribbon around him started moving again, wrapping around his entire body like flowing water. Within five seconds, his clothes had been replaced with a lavish, almost ostentatiously ornate wedding robe.

It wasn’t exactly feminine—more androgynous in style—but the red veil slowly descending onto his head was unmistakably meant for a bride.

No matter how much Chen Li resisted, the veil still came down over him, cutting off his vision. Outside, the sound of the suona became even louder.

The lead female paper figure let out a satisfied sigh: “Let’s depart!”

The paper figures burst into shrill giggles, their crude smiles twisting as they began marching up the mountain.

As for the dying townspeople and players—they didn’t spare them even a glance.

The children started singing a rhyme:

“Foggy skies… the beautiful young man is getting married…”

Chen—”Beautiful Young Man”—Li felt anything but happy. There was a damned sense of familiarity to everything happening around him.

Even if he tried to ignore it, the fact that he was riding in a sedan carried by paper figures filled him with dread.

He had no idea how long they walked before the paper figures finally stopped. Their already blood-red mouths drooped downward in fear, their expressions trembling as they huddled together.

“That master is coming! That master is coming!”

“The auspicious hour has arrived!”

Chen Li tugged at the luxurious rug beneath him and asked: [Who’s coming?]

System 001: [The thing in the shrine.]

Even the townspeople didn’t know what kind of horror was sealed inside the shrine. They were ignorant and blindly offered sacrifices, praying for protection.

Most of the bound sacrifices, in truth, had simply starved to death in the wilderness—easy prey for small predators.

If Chen Li had once doubted whether anything was actually sealed in the shrine, the appearance of the paper figures erased all uncertainty.

His fear hadn’t subsided in the slightest. His rounded fingertips turned pale from how tightly he was gripping the corner, curling into himself helplessly in the corner.

Finally, footsteps echoed outside, and the once-noisy paper figures collapsed lifelessly to the ground with soft thuds.

The curtain was pulled open again. The once-spacious sedan felt cramped the moment a tall man stepped inside.

In the tiny space, only two breaths could be heard—one light, one heavy. The air grew thick, as if sparks were catching, quickly igniting into a blazing fire.

Without a word, the man wrapped an arm around Chen Li’s waist, and the other slid under his knees, lifting him in a bridal carry. His voice, low and sinful, rumbled through his chest: “My… little bride?”


Author’s note:
Someone is really obsessed with getting married.


  1. Suona is a traditional Chinese double-reed horn used in weddings and funerals. ↩︎

FWAPBNPC

Forced to Work After Pretending to Be an NPC [Infinite] – Chapter 60


Sacrificial Lamb (4)


The commotion on this side of the estate had drawn the attention of some players nearby. Their faces were grim, and they rushed over, panting heavily. Their eyes locked onto Chen Li’s, staring at him with suspicion and unease.

Even if this mansion was quite large, was it really enough to tire them out like this?

Chen Li finally came back to his senses and glanced at them with a complicated expression. His heart was still pounding wildly. At this point, he didn’t bother hiding his fear—he instinctively stepped back, wanting to stay as far away from the corpse as possible.

Under everyone’s gaze, Wang Ke, feeling the pressure, was the first to speak: “Holy Son, why are you here?”

His floral shirt was smeared with dirt from who-knows-where, and he looked completely disheveled.

System 001 explained: [They just ran into a ghost hitting a wall. If you hadn’t made any noise here, they might’ve been stuck until they collapsed.]

So it was the noise that led them to an exit. Chen Li forced himself to ignore the corpse and replied with a distant look in his eyes: “I just came to take a look.”

As for what he was looking at—he’d leave that to the players’ imaginations.

After all, he no longer had a mission panel. Everything now depended on how well he could stick to his character.

Fortunately, aloof detachment seemed to be one of the Holy Son’s defining traits, so the system didn’t flag him for breaking character.

The players glanced at the body, then at him. Clearly, they didn’t quite buy the excuse of just “taking a look.”

Chen Li decided to go on the offensive. He asked directly: “Who killed them?”

The players looked at one another but no one could answer.

Chen Li pretended to be angry: “Aren’t you supposed to be detectives? The town didn’t bring you here to freeload!”

His eyes reddened as he spoke, and a lingering mist of tears from the earlier fright still shimmered in them.

He looked more like a frightened, pitiful little thing than someone angry.

The players, who should’ve been the ones feeling afraid, instead felt a strange sense of discomfort. None of them said a word.

After planting the question, Chen Li created the perfect excuse to slip away. He turned and walked off, keeping his head high and his eyes averted from the corpse.

Inside, though, he was trembling.

[System, is the whole family dead?]

System 001: [Yes, all five of them. The youngest son was only two years old.]

It was horrific—pure evil. Who could do such a thing?

The eldest son of the Zhou family had just been chosen as a sacrificial offering, and then was found dead at home the very next day—anyone would think the two events are connected.

But why? Could it have been someone else from the town?

As the thought crossed his mind, the memory of being bullied in the bath came flooding back.

Chen Li’s eyes widened. Could it have been that ghost?

There was no doubt that this town had ghosts. The players had just experienced a ghost hitting a wall themselves.

It was broad daylight, yet Chen Li felt chilled by his own imagination. Though he stood in sunlight, it felt like he was being watched by countless ghosts.

Unnoticed, the players had caught up with him. The one with the colorful floral shirt—clearly the boldest—tentatively asked: “Now that the offering is dead, what’s going to happen to your town’s ritual?”

It was a blunt question for an outsider. According to classic horror game tropes, the next step would be for a player to take the offering’s place—and die.

Chen Li didn’t know how the story would progress, so he vaguely replied: “Depends on what the High Priest decides.”

The players latched onto that. Wang Ke couldn’t help but ask: “So it’s the High Priest who chooses the offering?”

So they didn’t know.

Chen Li had only picked that up from a few gossipy servants in the mansion. He nodded: “Yeah.”

It was probably some sort of fortune-telling ritual, rooted in superstition and old beliefs.

The longer he stayed in the courtyard, the more that creeping feeling of being watched returned. The hairs on his neck stood on end, and he didn’t dare dwell on it. He turned and left the Zhou household.

News spread fast in the small town. Not long after Chen Li left, the Zhou family’s corpses were discovered, and word of the offering’s death spread like wildfire.

But no one seemed to care that the Zhou family of five had died.

Everyone was too consumed with fear over the ritual.

Everyone on the street was nervous.

“We need a new offering! We must find one!”

“The Mountain God will be enraged! He’ll punish us all!”

Chen Li watched as a father, gripped by anxiety, began hitting his own child, yelling with a red face: “We need an offering! You might as well be it!”

The child screamed in pain. Even knowing it was just an NPC, Chen Li couldn’t help but feel disturbed. He was about to step in when the child suddenly turned and stared straight at him.

Though still crying loudly, the child’s face contorted in a strange, eerie way, as if his expression belonged to someone else entirely. His lips moved silently:

Sacrifice.

Chen Li jumped back in shock and bolted toward the mansion.

No matter how fast he ran, he couldn’t escape the child’s screams echoing in his ears.

This seemingly peaceful and quiet town had been ripped apart, revealing the filth and rot beneath the surface.

Fear hung thick in the air, twisting the townspeople into something unrecognizable. Gone was their earlier warmth—now the streets were filled with shouting, fighting, and chaos.

Even couples, close friends, and family members—no matter how deep their bond—were now screaming curses at each other, pointing fingers, and demanding to know why the sacrifice couldn’t have been the other person.

It was like a chaotic, unhinged carnival.

Gradually, people began to notice him. Faces twisted with madness, they reached out toward him, snarling: “Sacrifice! Sacrifice!”

The scene was eerily reminiscent of the first instance he’d experienced—villagers chasing him down. But this time, Fu Moyang wasn’t here to help.

The townspeople had completely lost their minds. The moment they locked eyes with him, they would shriek and lunge at him in twisted rage. He didn’t dare look around, only keeping his head down as he ran.

A beggar in tattered clothes lying on the ground suddenly reached out and grabbed his ankle. Though he didn’t quite catch him, the shock made Chen Li stumble to a stop.

The crazed townspeople surged after him like a tidal wave. Terrified, Chen Li shut his eyes tight, bracing for the pain—when suddenly a loud crash sounded behind him. Something heavy had hit the ground.

A familiar, whining meow startled him into opening his eyes and looking back.

“Meow~!”

Chen Li’s eyes lit up: “Ghost Bus?”

The Ghost Bus flung its doors open, blocking the townspeople like a solid, reliable wall.

Chen Li climbed aboard and was immediately greeted by the cool breeze of the air conditioning.

The crazed crowd didn’t fixate on him for long. Soon, they shifted targets, attacking weaker victims—even turning on each other.

The once-peaceful town had suddenly descended into madness.

Inside the bus and outside—it was like two different worlds.

Still shaken, Chen Li patted the steering wheel: “Can you take me to the High Priest?”

Something was very wrong.

It was like they were all under some kind of curse.

The Ghost Bus, finally able to be of help, honked excitedly and drove him over.

The mansion was empty. Chen Li patted the bus gratefully and thanked it before storing it away.

The entire place was so quiet, not even the chirping of insects could be heard. Only a single bird perched at a short distance, staring at him.

“You’ve arrived.”

The sudden voice from behind made Chen Li flinch. He didn’t dare turn around: “High Priest?”

“It’s me,” came the raspy reply, gradually drawing closer.

Though the voice was right behind him, Chen Li felt as if some ghost had clawed its way out of hell to claim his life.

“Don’t worry,” the High Priest suddenly chuckled. “I’ve already found a replacement for the sacrifice—or rather, the perfect sacrifice.”

A chill crept over Chen Li. He forced down the trembling in his throat: “Then… will the townspeople stop going mad?”

“Them?” The High Priest paused in disgust. “A bunch of damned ticks—once this is over, I’m going to root them all out.”

Ticks? Was he talking about the townspeople?

But something in Chen Li’s gut told him they weren’t talking about the same thing at all.

The High Priest continued to approach, stopping just half a meter behind. From an angle Chen Li couldn’t see, a flicker of fear crossed his expression.

“The ritual will take place tomorrow,” the High Priest said. “There must be no mistakes, so I’ve called in help.”

“Help?” Chen Li blinked nervously.

“Come.”

Footsteps echoed behind him. Chen Li turned and saw familiar faces.

The tattooed man gave him a forced smile: “Holy Son…”

“You’re helping with the ritual?” Chen Li asked.

“Yes.”

The female player beside him looked even worse off—her hair disheveled, clothes torn, and injuries scattered across her body. Clearly, she’d also been attacked by the crazed townspeople.

Something felt very off, but Chen Li couldn’t put his finger on it. He asked: “Who’s the new sacrifice?”

The players exchanged uneasy glances and looked toward the High Priest.

“The neighbor of the Zhou family,” the High Priest replied. “Their son grew up alongside the Zhou family’s eldest. It’s a sign—a perfect one.”

The sense of wrongness in Chen Li grew stronger. He looked at the High Priest’s mask and, for a moment, thought he saw one of the eyes wink at him.

But when he looked again, it was just decoration—like an illusion.

Chen Li didn’t dare stay any longer. “Then I’ll take my leave,” he said as he slowly backed away.

The High Priest smiled for once: “Rest well.”

His gaze was like a venomous snake, coiling around him. Just being looked at made Chen Li feel sick.

This time, he didn’t hesitate—he turned and ran to his room, barricading the door with a stick.

[001, everyone in this town is really weird.]

Just now, he’d nearly mistaken those townspeople for actual vengeful ghosts coming to claim lives.

Uncontrollably, Chen Li remembered the method Fu Moyang had once taught him.

“See ghosts from between your legs.”

Thinking of that person, Chen Li pursed his lips, visibly becoming gloomy.

System 001 quickly changed the subject: [Go to sleep, Host. You have to participate in the ritual tomorrow as the Holy Son.]

Chen Li pulled the blanket over himself. The warmth was like a protective barrier, pressing down the lingering fear.

He carefully tucked in the corners, making sure no hands or feet were exposed before closing his eyes and obediently saying goodnight to the system.

There was no familiar, comforting presence by his side, and after everything he’d seen during the day, it was no surprise that Chen Li couldn’t sleep.

It wasn’t until dawn that he finally drifted off—but even then, it was restless, his consciousness stuck in a constant loop of fleeing, fleeing…

A voice was calling him.

[Host, Host!]

Chen Li jolted awake. Everything before him was bathed in red.

He tried to move but couldn’t. His hands and feet were tightly bound with coarse rope.

The floor beneath him shook violently. Outside, he could hear the beating of drums and clashing of gongs. A sharp voice pierced the air:

“Make way—the sacrifice is on the move!”


Author’s note:

This is what it means to walk straight into the tiger’s den. (Nods)


FWAPBNPC

Forced to Work After Pretending to Be an NPC [Infinite] – Chapter 59


Sacrificial Lamb (3)


Chen Li had been dreaming all night.

In the dream, invisible things kept tormenting him. Finally, one opened its blood-red mouth, saying, “You belong to me,” and swallowed him whole.

Startled, he jolted awake.

He then saw a ceiling that was both familiar and strange. Half-supporting his head, he sat up and looked down to find his clothes intact.

His memories of last night were hazy, but he still remembered some small details.

Like that invisible fear…

There was a cool, gentle touch lingering on him. When he finally woke up, he was still in bed—and fully dressed. Had he lost a chunk of memory?

Chen Li shivered and nervously asked his system: “Was what I encountered yesterday a ghost?”

He didn’t remember everything clearly, nor did he recall the system’s cowardly disappearance last night. He pitifully sought comfort from the only reliable companion he had left.

System 001, feeling deeply guilty: [Yes…]

In a sense, it really was a ghost.

But it wasn’t the kind of terrifying ghost he’d imagined—one with flowing red robes, bloodstained from head to toe.

This world not only had ghosts, but this ghost had targeted him. Although he didn’t understand why it hadn’t killed him last night, the fact alone terrified Chen Li deeply, and his frustration was obvious.

System 001 scrambled to make up a comforting explanation: [Maybe it’s a good ghost—only killing those who harmed it in life.]

But that backfired. Chen Li’s reaction was surprisingly intense: [No, it’s not a good ghost.]

Maybe it was a very bad perverted ghost… He vaguely remembered it licking him twice.

But saying something like that was too embarrassing, so Chen Li stubbornly sulked until the young maiden came to deliver his breakfast.

Seeing the unexpectedly abundant meal—mostly dishes he liked—his bad mood eased considerably.

He was easy to please.

He called the young maiden over to ask why the breakfast was so lavish today.

After last night’s interaction, the young maiden seemed to feel it was okay to talk more. Being young and unable to hold back, she quickly replied: “The High Priest ordered the kitchen to prepare it this morning.”

They were all surprised. It was the first time the High Priest had treated a Holy Son so well.

Others in the town might not know, but the staff here all understood that the Holy Son’s status wasn’t as high as people imagined.

Yet out of respect for the High Priest’s authority, they usually dared not speak about it.

Just as Chen Li happily picked up a piece of lychee pork to eat, hearing the young maiden mention the High Priest made him flinch, and a plump piece slipped back into the bowl.

He lost his appetite: “Why would the High Priest order this?”

His emotions, finally settling down, sank again.

The young maiden shook her head, saying she didn’t know, then left—thoughtfully closing the door behind her.

What had been a lavish feast now looked like a deadly trap in his eyes.

All coated in honey sweetened with poison.

System 001: [I’ve tested it. It’s harmless.]

Chen Li sighed lightly: [Maybe this is my last meal.]

The meal lost its flavor, and he only picked at it a few times before stopping.

Outside the window, a small bird suddenly appeared. Its normally round, jet-black eyes had changed into fierce, silver-grey eyes like a wild beast’s. It silently stared at the barely touched feast on the table, tilted its head coldly and in puzzlement, then spread its wings and flew away.

Not long after breakfast, System 001 enthusiastically invited Chen Li to watch a movie—but was firmly refused.

Chen Li steadied himself to focus on the mission and asked the system for the players’ movement track.

They had been exploring the village early that morning for clues about the rituals, and it was obvious that the mission was related to this.

System 001 could only provide a rough route, not detailed info. It told Chen Li the players had gone to the Zhou family—the household whose eldest son had been taken as a sacrifice—and had stayed there for a long time, still there now.

Tilting his head, Chen Li decided he needed to go check it out. But after what happened last night, he couldn’t afford to be careless anymore. He had to sneak out without anyone noticing.

Thinking of it, he suddenly raised his hand and touched his neck.

It hadn’t hurt at all today.

To his surprise, when he felt it, his skin was completely smooth. Chen Li hurried to check the mirror—his long, fair neck showed no sign of a single mark.

He paused thoughtfully for a few seconds.

System 001 felt a bit nervous, thinking their host was about to figure out the truth.

Chen Li said seriously: [So my healing ability is really that good, huh.]

System 001: […]

Silence was the system’s mood tonight.

It decided not to tell this clueless host anything.

This was just a small episode. In daily life, Chen Li had always been the classic clueless beauty. He never paid much attention to bruises or marks that occasionally appeared on his body. Even though things were reversed now, he was still incredibly laid-back.

After ten minutes of discussion with the system, they finally came up with the perfect escape plan.

Chen Li grabbed a pair of scissors and cut off all the inconvenient parts of his clothes, making it much easier to move.

He was cutting completely at random, but somehow, with his looks, he managed to pull off a sort of alternative fashion style.

At first glance, no one would suspect it was just badly cut clothes.

With the system’s strategic help, he easily avoided the servants in the mansion and reached the courtyard on the west side.

There was a woodshed here—and a… dog hole.

Chen Li looked at the somewhat familiar dog hole and was reminded of some unpleasant memories from his past life.

[Do I really have to crawl through here?]

System 001: [What, can you climb over the wall instead?]

Chen Li looked up at the tall wall, then gave in after a couple of seconds.

Just as he was about to crouch down, footsteps sounded behind him.

Although the footsteps’ owner deliberately made some noise beforehand, Chen Li was still startled.

He blinked his dark eyes and glanced back—nearly tripping over himself in fright. He whispered barely audibly, “High Priest…”

His neck suddenly started aching faintly and uncontrollably.

The man wearing a multi-eyed mask stood silently, watching him. A closer look showed his movements were even stiffer than before.

Like a puppet on strings, or someone being forced here.

Unfortunately, Chen Li was too nervous to notice this difference. Instinctively, he covered his neck and timidly apologized, “I—I didn’t mean to go out. I just got lost.”

Even he thought the excuse was ridiculous.

The High Priest stared at him silently for a few seconds, then hoarsely said: “Fine. You may leave.”

“Huh?” Chen Li was stunned, not expecting that response. He looked at him oddly.

The High Priest repeated: “Fine. You may leave.”

Chen Li asked: “So… I’m going now?”

He couldn’t shake the feeling that this version of the High Priest was even more terrifying.

The High Priest didn’t say another word, watching silently as Chen Li ran past him.

System 001: [Great, Host. You don’t have to crawl through the dog hole after all.]

Chen Li, still worried: [I have a bad feeling about this.]

Could it be the High Priest took the wrong medicine this morning?

No—something’s off, and where there’s something off, there’s always trouble.

He’s definitely plotting some other way to torment me.

Knowing there was a tiger in the mountains, he had no choice but to go.

Locked inside the mansion, he couldn’t gather any terror points or complete any missions.

There had to be a reason the mission panel was missing, his instincts told him something big was about to happen.

Chen Li kept running outside. This time, many servants didn’t stop him—clearly they had been warned.

Out of his sight, the High Priest suddenly dropped to his knees, as if crushed by a thousand-pound weight, coughing up blood. After a night of torture, he was finally free to move. Panicked, he shouted desperately: “Wait! Don’t kill me! Don’t kill me! I’m still useful! I know what you want, I can help you—”

Before he could finish, his bones were crushed with a sickening crunch.

Only after his limbs twisted in agonizing pain was he released.

A cold, sinister presence swiftly approached, whispering with deadly intent.

The High Priest gasped in terror, each breath sending sharp pain ripping through his chest.

. . . . .

With no obstacles, Chen Li walked openly out of the gloomy mansion. As he strolled along the town’s paths, he felt dazed.

Everything here was too peaceful for a town known for human sacrifices and terror.

Everyone who saw Chen Li greeted him warmly and eagerly.

They called him the Holy Son.

To avoid saying too much and making mistakes, Chen Li responded with nothing but smiles—his face nearly frozen from it—until he finally found the Zhou family through the system.

The Zhou family was once wealthy but had fallen on hard times. Their mansion was large but neglected, overrun with weeds.

The system said the player was still here, so why was the gate wide open with no one inside?

Carefully, Chen Li stepped into the ruined courtyard: “Is anyone here?”

No one answered.

He apologized quietly as he moved further in. Suddenly, behind him came a creak—the door slammed shut on its own.

Chen Li flinched: [System, it was just the wind, right?]

System 001 considered, then answered honestly: [No.]

Chen Li’s fear grew. He raised his voice a little: “Is anyone here?”

Still, no response.

Finally, inside the house, he saw a figure standing with their back to him, dressed in black.

Relieved to see someone, Chen Li’s eyes lit up. He hurried over and poked the figure gently: “Hello.”

His pale, delicate finger barely touched the man, who stiffly toppled forward with no resistance and collapsed onto the floor.

Chen Li stared in disbelief, looking from his finger to the man on the ground.

Did he knock him out with a poke?

He crouched down, terrified, flipping the body over. The face was deathly pale with sunken eyes, lips colorless, the corpse stiff—this person had been dead for a long time.

“Ugh!” Chen Li jumped back, his almond-shaped eyes instantly filling with tears.

[He’s dead?]

System 001: [Yes.]

Not wanting to stay in the same space as a corpse, Chen Li jumped up and ran to another small room, flinging open the door in panic.

Click. A mechanism snapped.

System 001: [Careful!]

The opened door cut a rope, and the corpse hanging there suddenly fell, its head hitting the floor with a sickening smash—like a rotten watermelon bursting open.

Red and white brain matter splattered everywhere, even brushing past Chen Li’s ear and almost hitting his face.

Chen Li stood frozen, staring down at the puddle of mush on the floor.

System 001 was about to praise the host for staying calm—when he realized something was wrong.

[Host? Host?!]

Chen Li didn’t respond. His eyes slowly welled up with tears.

System 001: Oh no, it’s over, the child is scared silly.


Author’s note: Silly little lamb.


FWAPBNPC

Forced to Work After Pretending to Be an NPC [Infinite] – Chapter 58


Sacrificial Lamb (2)


“Ah!” Chen Li let out a tiny, sharp sound of fear, curling up and backing away.

Even though he recognized that terrifying eye as just a decoration on the High Priest’s mask, he still trembled uncontrollably all over.

A heavy, oppressive aura radiated from the High Priest’s body. He slowly straightened up, no longer leaning toward Chen Li. The murky eyes behind the mask were chillingly cold: “You ran off today?”

Chen Li’s blank mind finally started working, his heart pounding.

Would something bad happen if he got caught going out? Should he admit it?

No. Even if he didn’t admit it now, the servants in the courtyard would find out sooner or later. If he lied, it might only make the High Priest angrier.

So Chen Li nodded and shook his head nervously, timidly defending himself: “I just went for a walk, didn’t leave this house.”

He had no idea how much his eyes now looked like those of a pitiful little stray dog, scared of being hurt.

His naturally round eyes made it impossible for anyone to be harsh or unforgiving.

The High Priest’s reaction was especially intense and twisted. Without warning, his rough hand shot out and gripped Chen Li’s neck. He ground his teeth and snarled: “Don’t think you can seduce people with that pretty face of yours.”

Chen Li was truly stunned. He didn’t know what he had done to make the High Priest think of “seduction.”

The hand around his neck tightened more and more, growing stronger until it hurt, making it hard to breathe and setting his throat ablaze with pain.

“I-I didn’t,” Chen Li managed to whisper, his voice even weaker than a fragile kitten’s. His pale face, originally drained by fear, flushed red.

Where others might have looked embarrassed or ashamed, Chen Li somehow looked strangely alluring instead.

For a moment, the High Priest’s eyes softened with obsession. He wanted to see Chen Li show more of that almost “seductive” expression. But suddenly, as if remembering something, he stopped himself abruptly, tossing Chen Li onto the bed with a careless flick. His voice was full of disgust: “They say you met the new detective who just arrived in town today?”

Who “they” were was obvious. Chen Li hadn’t expected that before coming here, the High Priest had already asked the NPCs who worked in the mansion. That was just a test.

If Chen Li had lied just now, his neck would probably be broken by now.

Chen Li coughed painfully, struggling to lift his eyes to look at him. The pain in his throat made it impossible to speak.

The High Priest didn’t seem to want an answer anyway. He lowered his head and locked eyes with Chen Li, his gaze like staring at a pile of garbage—yet there was also something deeply conflicted hidden in it.

Chen Li’s oxygen-starved brain was too foggy to think clearly, but he vaguely felt that the look contained nothing but pure malice.

The High Priest withdrew his gaze: “Don’t forget who made you the esteemed Holy Son.”

He left with those final words, flicking his sleeves as he walked away.

He hadn’t even scolded him or forbidden him from seeing “them” again?

Chen Li instinctively looked back, and at the moment the High Priest stepped out the door, he glanced down once more at his pant leg—this time, there was no mud.

System 001 had been cursing loudly in Chen Li’s mind since just now, so furious that it wished it could burst out and slap that arrogant priest.

Chen Li comforted it: [It’s okay, I don’t hurt anymore. It just looks worse than it is.]

His skin was delicate—just a light pinch would leave a red mark. Not to mention how that NPC had seemed to go all out just now, leaving bruises that were now swollen and red.

This was the first real injury he’d suffered in the Horror Game, but Chen Li wasn’t as panicked as he thought he’d be. Instead, he started calmly analyzing: [Judging by his attitude, he’s actually not opposed to me interacting with the players.]

That was a bit strange, considering he’d ordered everyone in the mansion not to speak to him.

What was even stranger was the last thing the High Priest had said.

Chen Li felt a bit incredulous—and a little wronged.

From the tone, it seemed like the High Priest actually expected Chen Li to be grateful for becoming the Holy Son.

The sacrifice, the Holy Son, and the High Priest were all roles connected to worship. This town was clearly worshipping something, probably the core of the entire instance.

Most likely the core NPC boss.

There were too few clues at the moment. Thinking too much only made his mind messier and the fog thicker.

He sighed, almost ready to give up and sleep—but the cold sweat still clinging to his skin made him feel sticky and uncomfortable.

Just then, there was a sound outside the door, and Chen Li tensed instinctively.

Could the High Priest have come back?

Chen Li pulled the blanket over his face. The sound slowly entered the room.

Curiosity and fear began tugging at him. He distinctly felt the footsteps stop not far from where he was.

It seemed to be a human trait: the more scared you are, the more you want to take a quick look. Avoiding it only makes the fear worse.

Finally, summoning his courage, he reached out and pulled the edge of the blanket down… just a few centimeters.

Only a pair of blinking eyes peeked out. The person outside clearly didn’t expect him to suddenly look, and after a stunned two-second eye contact, they both screamed.

“Ahhhh!!!”

Chen Li’s mouth opened to say something, but he was startled by her scream and slowly closed it again, his round eyes looking like a frightened little animal caught off guard.

The young maiden finally realized he wasn’t attacking her and wasn’t the terrifying ghost she’d imagined. Embarrassed, she stopped screaming: “S-Sorry, Holy Son, I didn’t expect you to still be alive.”

“What do you mean? You thought I was dead?” Chen Li asked with simple confusion in his eyes.

She was young after all. The maiden’s face flushed with embarrassment. Everyone had seen how furious the High Priest was today, and her mother had told her that this Holy Son probably wouldn’t survive the night again.

What a pity—he looked so handsome, livelier than any previous Holy Son or Holy Maiden.

But he hadn’t just survived, he seemed fine.

From her expression, Chen Li guessed some of it and casually asked: “What happened to the Holy Sons before me?”

He wasn’t really sure if it was true—he was just fishing for information based on a guess.

Sure enough, the young maiden’s expression changed. Maybe because Chen Li seemed too kind-tempered, she felt a flicker of pity: “You’d better not ask about these things.”

Chen Li’s heart sank. His gut told him the answer wasn’t what he wanted to hear.

Probably those others had already… and next would be him?

Just as the young maiden was about to leave, Chen Li shyly called after her: “Could you bring me some hot water to wash?”

If he couldn’t wash tonight, he knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep.

This time, the young maiden didn’t refuse. Since she was assigned specifically to attend to the Holy Son, she quickly and efficiently went to boil water.

Chen Li wanted to help at first, but after watching her move, he gave up.

He just felt like he’d get in the way.

Without the mission panel, he couldn’t follow the story or check character details—he could only act on instinct.

When the big bath bucket in the courtyard was filled, he walked over and gratefully said: “Thank you.”

The young maiden was startled: “No, no, you don’t need to thank me.”

With that, she turned and ran off.

Chen Li sighed quietly: [What kind of complicated existence am I really?]

System 001: [Host, hurry up and wash. I’ll keep watch! Not a single mosquito will get in!]

It was full of bravado.

Chen Li chuckled softly: [Thanks.]

Whether it was his imagination or not, at the moment he smiled, the wind and the chirping insects in the courtyard all fell silent for a moment—as if something terrifying had arrived.

Though it was already night and no one would pass by, the shame of bathing outside still made Chen Li hurry his movements.

He wanted to finish quickly and rest. After confirming with the system that no one was around, he quickly stripped off his clothes.

As the last piece dropped, revealing his pale, smooth skin, the wind blew clouds over the moon, sweeping away the moonlight scattered across the courtyard.

In the dark, with hot water wetting his body, the once thrilling scene was subdued—yet nothing escaped the eyes of the lurking evil.

Chen Li scooped up some water to wash his face when suddenly, his wrist was grabbed by something.

He shivered in fright: “Who’s there!?”

No one answered. The system, which had just confidently promised to keep watch, had vanished.

The strange sensation traveled up his wrist to his back, then ambiguously stroked up and down. Whether it was his imagination or not, the touch felt especially intense at the base of his spine.

Chen Li felt as if invisible tentacles had grabbed him, forcing him to arch his body. He was so distressed he wanted to cry out: “Let me go!”

But his struggling only caused tiny ripples on the water’s surface.

A cold sensation brushed his earlobe. He could feel something tormenting him, yet he couldn’t hit anything solid.

Chen Li’s initial anger gradually gave way to fear.

Could it be… that he had encountered a ghost?

Feeling the little one in his arms suddenly go stiff, the ghost behind him let out a soft, soothing hum. It reached out to gently stroke his head, lips moving from the cute, rosy ear downward—only to suddenly stop.

A brutal, glaring wound caught his eye, mixed with the faint scent of blood.

Who? Who caused this injury?

The ghost’s eyes sharpened fiercely, openly radiating murderous intent. The previously peaceful atmosphere in the courtyard instantly turned cold and deadly. The thick, almost overwhelming stench of blood seemed ready to spill out.

Behind him came the sound of cracking bones. Chen Li could sense the strange creature holding him was angry—but he couldn’t move a muscle. He stayed quiet and still, like a helpless drowning kitten, barely daring to breathe.

After an unknown length of time, a whisper suddenly brushed past his ear, and his consciousness began to blur.

Though he struggled desperately to keep his eyes open, he eventually drifted into unconsciousness.

The ghost revealed its true form at last, gently raising a hand to brush over Chen Li’s neck, tenderly erasing the wound. Then, bit by bit, it carefully dried his body.

Even though this could easily have been done with a touch of ghostly energy, it insisted on the old-fashioned way—using a towel to painstakingly dry every drop of water from the young man in its arms, from his hair to his toes. In the process, it ate countless tender tofu. Only then did it reluctantly help him change into new clothes and carry him back to bed.

Standing there watching for several minutes, the ghost muttered to itself: “Don’t be afraid. We’ll see each other again soon.”

But before that, there were some pesky little pests to deal with.

The ghost turned around, its expression suddenly darkening.


Author’s note:
Someone’s secretly bullying the little lamb again.


FWAPBNPC

Forced to Work After Pretending to Be an NPC [Infinite] – Chapter 57


Sacrificial Lamb (1)


“Have you heard? This time it’s the Zhou family’s child.”

“He just turned eighteen yesterday. If he’d been born a few days later, maybe none of this would’ve happened.”

“It’s all fate.”

Outside the door, the soft murmur of voices drifted in. A few women stood at the entrance, quietly chatting as they held piles of laundry to be washed.

Soon, they were hurriedly driven away by someone rushing down the corridor. With eyes blazing and voice barely contained, he snapped: “The Holy Son is still resting! If you keep gossiping, none of you will keep your jobs!”

“Sorry, High Priest,” the women meekly apologized and retreated. Serving the Holy Son was a great honor—and the work was easy with good pay. Nobody wanted to lose their position.

Once the voices faded and no one remained outside, Chen Li, who had been sitting upright on the bed, finally shifted uneasily. Tugging at his loose white sleeves, he asked: [001, what’s going on here?]

System 001: [The background of this world is complicated—a mix of modern elements tangled with ancient and medieval influences. Right now, your identity is the Holy Son of this town.]

Chen Li tugged at the gold ornament hanging from his clothes, feeling awkward: [Am I wearing women’s clothes?]

He looked like he was dressed in a shrine maiden’s outfit—completely covered, but underneath, his legs were bare, with no pants at all.

System 001 reassured him: [No, it’s gender-neutral.]

Chen Li made a small “oh” sound and couldn’t help but tug at the hem again. Then, thoughtfully, he asked the question he really wanted to know: [What about the player?]

Feeling uneasy, he didn’t understand why his mission panel had broken after arriving in this instance—there were no task prompts at all.

Luckily, he still had the system to accompany him, though it didn’t know much either.

System 001: “[The player’s role should be a detective sent to this town to conduct an investigation.]

[Detective?] Chen Li blinked in surprise.

It seemed this instance’s background was indeed a confusing mix of things.

[I don’t know what their mission is either,] System 001 said apologetically. [You’ll have to find out on your own.]

Chen Li smiled wryly: [Thanks, 001.]

The white orb of light, System 001, flickered pink shyly, said it was no trouble.

Apart from the little commotion outside at noon, no one else had passed by the room since—as if everyone had forgotten this place existed.

Seeing Chen Li getting bored, System 001 eagerly asked: [Want to watch a movie?]

Chen Li thought for a moment and nodded: [I want to watch a Doraemon movie.]

So the two of them spent the day watching, from daylight until the sun set, only stopping when dinner was served. Finally, a shy young maiden appeared at the door with his meal.

If Chen Li hadn’t called out quickly, she would have darted away.

Even then, when stopped, she didn’t dare turn around. Her small shoulders trembled as she asked: “Do you have something you want to ask?”

Chen Li, burdened by the heavy folds of his robe, rubbed his face in suspicion. Was he really that scary?

Clearing his throat, he softened his voice as much as he could: “Do you know where the High Priest went?”

He’d heard the women outside call the man that earlier, and tossed out the question to keep her talking.

Sure enough, the young maiden stopped trembling and seriously thought it over.

Obviously, she was instructed not to have too much contact with the Holy Son inside the room, but unfortunately, being too young, she was easily deceived.

As an adult, Chen Li spent a brief three seconds feeling guilty about tricking a child.

After thinking for a while, the young maiden gave a vague answer: “He seems to have gone to see this time’s sacrifice.”

“Sacrifice?” Chen Li feigned surprise.

The young maiden’s voice was clear: “This time the sacrifice is the young master of the Zhou family in town!”

A thunderclap shattered the calm sky.

The young maiden jumped and her face went pale, still turned away from Chen Li: “I—I can’t say anymore. I have to go.”

No matter how much Chen Li called after her, she ran swiftly around the corner.

The heavy Holy Son robes hampered Chen Li’s movement. When he finally caught up at the corner, the young maiden was gone—but instead he bumped into the High Priest rushing back.

The High Priest wore a wooden mask painted with several realistic eyes. He grabbed Chen Li’s shoulder with a grip so strong it felt like he wanted to sink his fingers right through.

“Holy Son, how dare you run out on your own!?”

Chen Li winced in pain: “I just wanted to take a walk.”

He stared at the mask, momentarily unable to tell which eyes were real.

The High Priest slowly released him: “The sacrificial ceremony is about to begin. There can be no mistakes. Please go back.”

Chen Li nodded obediently and turned to leave. As he did, he noticed the High Priest’s feet were covered in dirty mud.

Without objection, Chen Li picked up his now lukewarm dinner and went back inside.

The High Priest glanced back suspiciously, only relaxing once he was sure Chen Li wasn’t trying to leave again.

As Chen Li ate, he noticed a tall figure pacing outside the door, which only deepened his unease.

“If they’re so afraid of me leaving this room, why don’t they just lock me in?”

Maybe he wasn’t actually being restricted—the High Priest’s fear was just his personal wish, and he had no right to demand more freedom.

The moonlight grew stronger. Chen Li didn’t want to act alone in the dark, so he put aside the thought of going out and decided to wait until tomorrow.

. . . . .

As expected, the next day after lunch, Chen Li slipped out. Along the way, a few people respectfully bowed to him—no one tried to stop him.

He just needed to get back inside before that strange, paranoid High Priest returned.

The people here had a strong sense of hierarchy. No one dared to meet Chen Li’s eyes directly. He had to stop someone himself and ask where the detective who came to town was.

The person he stopped was visibly frightened, lowering his head and refusing to answer directly: “Sorry, sorry, the High Priest forbids us from speaking with you.”

Not wanting to lose his job, he kept repeating the same excuse.

The young maiden from yesterday had said the same thing. Chen Li frowned: “Why does the High Priest forbid you from talking to me?”

The NPC was definitely acting strange.

The man shook his head vigorously: “Sorry, sorry.”

There was no point pressuring such a helpless NPC. Chen Li sighed, lowered his hand, and went to look for someone else.

Having learned from experience, this time everyone stepped back quickly as he approached, avoiding direct contact. The area suddenly felt empty.

Before Chen Li could ask anything, he paused in frustration: “…”

No one was willing to tell him. Just as he was debating whether to go to town wearing his flashy outfit to find the player himself, a noisy commotion came from the main gate.

Curious, he lifted his robes and went to see. Sure enough, a few figures stood out—they were players dressed in modern clothes.

He pretended not to notice their odd appearance and approached with a serious face: “What’s going on?”

The players watched as the guard, who had been bossy and arrogant moments before, instantly changed his expression and smiled obsequiously: “Holy Son.”

They exchanged glances, and no one dared to say more.

To the players, this attitude made Chen Li seem very dignified and powerful, someone even the NPCs feared to talk to.

One of the players, a big guy with a black vest showing a large tattooed arm, stepped forward first: “We’re detectives investigating the missing persons case. May we speak with you?”

Surprised that they openly revealed their purpose, Chen Li’s eyes brightened slightly. He fought to keep a straight face: “Alright, follow me.”

The guard was stunned. The High Priest hadn’t given any instructions for handling this situation.

After hesitating for a while and seeing that the whole group had already gone inside, the guard grit his teeth and said: “Forget it—no one is allowed to talk about what happened today!”

Chen Li led them back to his room. Because his movement was restricted, they moved slowly—no one dared rush him.

Chen Li: “How do you prove your identities?”

The players were taken aback. Prove their identities? Was that really necessary?

Usually, no matter what roles they played—even if they seemed out of place—the NPCs would believe them. Why was this NPC so different?

The tattooed man asked: “How do you want us to prove it?”

As he talked with them, Chen Li observed each person carefully.

He quickly ruled out the three female players and an elderly man who looked retired. That left three male players.

One had a large tattooed arm, another wore a brightly colored, flashy shirt, and the last one was only about 1.6 meters tall—none of them looked like Fu Moyang.

Could it be that Fu Moyang hadn’t come with him into this instance?

Chen Li nervously blinked, feeling a little lost over this realization.

But he still had art he wanted to share with him.

The man in the colorful shirt rambled on until he was dry-mouthed, trying to convince Chen Li they really were detectives. Yet, Chen Li’s eyes drifted off, zoning out.

The colorful-shirt man felt frustrated but dared not show it.

Then System 001 reminded him: [The High Priest is back.]

Chen Li suddenly stood up, his face darkening: “You all need to leave.”

Having spent time with Fu Moyang, Chen Li had somehow learned a bit of his aura. It startled the players, leaving them stunned.

They hadn’t expected that they came looking for clues but ended up giving away their basic information instead.

Trying to argue more was pointless. Chen Li opened the door: “You can come back at this time tomorrow.”

That finally put an end to their persistence.

After they left, Chen Li quietly shut the door and tiptoed back to lie down on the bed.

[Where is he now?]

System 001: [He’s on his way here.]

Thinking of those strange, unsettling eyes, Chen Li immediately pretended to be asleep.

Soon, heavy, steady footsteps sounded outside the door.

The visitor calmly pushed the door open and, with a chill in his step, quickly approached the bed.

Chen Li tried to keep his breathing steady and silent. His hands, hidden inside the wide sleeves, clenched tightly from nervousness.

The High Priest’s cold gaze scanned his feet, hands, abdomen, and finally his face. After staring for a long moment, he let out an ambiguous snort and turned away.

Chen Li quietly exhaled, relaxing his clenched hands.

Suddenly, System 001 shouted: [Wait!]

But his body reacted faster than his brain. His trembling eyelids opened the next second, and Chen Li locked eyes with one of those crooked, unsettling eyes—so close it blurred his focus.

The eye blinked maliciously at him: Got you.


FWAPBNPC

Forced to Work After Pretending to Be an NPC [Infinite] – Chapter 56


Reality


As Chen Li stepped into the competition venue, several contestants were already waiting inside. The moment he entered, all eyes turned to him.

He became the center of attention.

Many kinds of expressions were directed his way, but Chen Li remained unfazed.

After becoming an NPC in Horror Game, he no longer feared being watched the way he used to.

At the very least, the stares of these ordinary people—untouched by the threat of death—were far gentler than the ones filled with suspicion and fear from players in Horror Game.

One contestant, who had hoped to see him flustered, was disappointed by his calm demeanor. With a soft tch of annoyance, he stepped forward: “You’re that dark horse who’s been blowing up online lately?”

Though their words acknowledged him, a flash of contempt flickered in their eyes.

System 001 gave a reminder: [This one’s not friendly.]

Some of the contestants watched with a schadenfreude-like amusement, others seemed slightly concerned, but none of them stepped in to defuse the situation.

“I’m not a dark horse,” Chen Li said politely. “My name is Chen Li. And you are?”

Damon hadn’t expected Chen Li not to recognize him. His face darkened instantly: “I’m Damon, student of Master Li Huasheng.”

Mentioning his proud teacher brought his smugness back. He looked at Chen Li with feigned confusion: “You made it to the finals step by step—must’ve been tough, right? But to be honest, in recent years, the Golden Butterfly champions have all come from those of us who were pre-selected for the finals. This year probably won’t be any different.”

That comment immediately offended several finalists who had made it through by their own merit. They glared at Damon, but no one wanted to cause trouble before the competition.

Everyone waited to see how Chen Li would respond, but he just calmly nodded: “Mm. After all, those who can qualify directly for the finals are top talents recognized by all.”

It was like punching a pile of cotton—Damon felt thoroughly unsatisfied. He knew stirring up conflict before the competition wasn’t wise, but he couldn’t help but feel sour about the crowd that had gathered outside just to support Chen Li.

Just some lucky nobody—why does he get more attention than me?

He was just a young painter with no prestigious background. The art world was full of such “geniuses” who quickly faded into obscurity after their moment in the spotlight.

Damon sneered and stopped pretending to be polite. He looked at Chen Li with blatant hostility: “If that’s the case, you should know—you don’t stand a chance.”

“Hahaha, confidence is good in a young person, but don’t let it turn into arrogance.”

A hearty laugh came from behind the crowd.

Everyone turned toward the voice and immediately froze, followed by an audible wave of surprise.

“Is that—Master Omicho?! He’s one of the special guest judges this year?!”

The group that arrived with him were all big names in the art world. Their appearance was like a jolt of adrenaline for everyone present.

In that moment, no one cared about what Damon had just said.

Being called out for arrogance, Damon’s face turned an ugly shade—but he didn’t dare show any disrespect toward Omicho. He could only glare at Chen Li in frustration.

Then he noticed someone else among the group and immediately brightened, raising his voice deliberately: “Teacher! What are you doing here?”

Though phrased as a question, he wore a deeply touched expression. Some people looked on enviously, whispering to their companions: “Didn’t Master Li Huasheng go abroad a few days ago? He actually came all this way just for his student’s competition. That’s so sweet.”

Damon almost couldn’t contain his smugness and looked ready to raise his nose into the air—until the next moment, when Li Huasheng’s words hit him like a slap in the face. Burning with embarrassment, he could barely keep his composure.

Li Huasheng smiled warmly: “I came to take on a new disciple—your junior.”

Before the words even finished, Omicho exploded: “You old man! Don’t tell me you’ve set your sights on Xiao Lizi too?! I’ll have you know, he’s going to be my last disciple—my only student!!”

Li Huasheng got worked up because of him and snapped: “Did he agree with you? Huh? Why don’t you take a good look in the mirror and see where you actually look like a teacher!”

The two masters began bickering like children. No one dared intervene. All they could do was turn stunned eyes to Chen Li.

There was no question who “Xiao Lizi” referred to.

Suddenly, the once quiet space around Chen Li was surrounded by people. Some came with pure curiosity or admiration, others with not-so-subtle flattery.

The crowd gradually and quite deliberately edged Damon out of the spotlight. His face turned an ugly shade of red. Not only did Master Omicho want to take Chen Li as a student—even his own teacher was here for Chen Li. If there had been a hole in the floor, he would’ve crawled right in.

Someone nearby muttered mockingly: “Some people really think the world revolves around them, huh.”

Damon flushed an angry liver-red, eyes darting around trying to identify the speaker, only making himself look more ridiculous.

While the venue buzzed with noise, the competition organizers finally stepped in to manage things. Chen Li followed a staff member toward the competition area, but he couldn’t resist glancing back at Master Omicho.

Omicho waved at him cheerfully, like a mischievous but kind neighborhood grandpa.

System 001: [This human’s pretty nice.]

Anyone could tell Omicho had just stepped in to help Chen Li.

Chen Li blinked, then smiled: [Yeah.]

Once inside the specially-prepared competition area, a staff member explained gently: “For the finals, we only accept paintings created on-site. This is your workstation. If you need anything, feel free to ask any of the staff.”

Chen Li gave a shy smile: “Thank you.”

“No need to thank me. It’s my pleasure.” The staff member blushed.

What a polite kid.

The little incident that just happened had no negative effect on Chen Li. After sitting down, he immediately discarded all distractions, and his gaze gradually grew resolute.

The intense reds and blacks under his brush became the most splendid colors.

By the time he put down his brush, the canvas had already faintly revealed the outlines of two people.

System 001 thought he was going to stop to rest, but in reality, he only paused for a few seconds to think, his eyes fixed on the tall man’s face on the canvas.

Then he pressed his lips and silently continued to work. The two figures in the outline were closely intertwined. Behind them bloomed a vast field of red spider lilies on the far side of the Yellow River. The tall man tightly held the slender figure in front of him, covering the person’s head with a red bridal veil embroidered with golden butterflies. His hands hung quietly at his sides.

The man behind him held him tightly, his head slightly bowed as if gazing at him with endless tenderness—just one look was enough to stir an overwhelming possessiveness.

Some might be curious about the man’s face, but when their eyes drifted upward, they would be startled to find that the man’s face was completely blank.

Nothing at all.

Chen Li was still carefully adding details to the wedding clothes of the two people. It seemed he hadn’t noticed the most crucial thing missing from the painting.

This competition had been going on for three days. During these three days, judges and special guests were not allowed to disturb the contestants while they were painting, and the contestants couldn’t leave the venue. Almost everyone was racing against time to finish their painting.

Finally, an hour before the on-site judging, Chen Li put down his brush. After keeping his facial muscles tense for three days, they relaxed naturally, and the corners of his mouth lifted into a smile.

He breathed out lightly: “Done.”

System 001 didn’t understand human art appreciation, but it sincerely showered him with praise. In its eyes, all the humans here were weaklings; none could compare to its host.

[Thank you, 001.] Chen Li picked up his painting and, guided by the staff, headed toward the award ceremony.

His heart was uneasy, like a restless rabbit hopping around, excitedly urging him to share the painting with the world.

The competition opened to the public today, with many media outlets present. When Chen Li appeared, the camera flashes reached a peak. He looked like the darling of the cameras, looking good from every angle.

To capture the most eye-catching shots, the media frantically pressed their shutters.

Chen Li blinked against the flashes. Sitting in the guest seats, Omicho impatiently tapped and urged: “Hurry up and start!”

There were ten judges in total, and the highest scorer would be crowned this year’s Golden Butterfly champion.

When Chen Li turned the painting around, the judges’ eyes almost sparkled. One female judge didn’t hesitate to praise: “Oh my, how did you come up with this theme?”

There was no theme restriction in the Golden Butterfly finals. Previous contestants chose their specialties, but none of their works evoked such strong emotions the moment they were revealed.

Compared to his previous two paintings—also in a horror style—this one had an even deeper emotional impact. If the previous ones conveyed despair, this one brought a suffocating feeling beneath a complex shadow. It was clearly visible yet somehow hazy and unreal.

The judge’s praise brought the rest of the crowd back to attention. Some of the more curious voices asked questions:

“Is this a ghost marriage? Are the people in the painting still alive?”

“I feel they’re deeply in love, it’s a kind of chilling affection.”

“No, the main figure under the red veil isn’t willing. Look at his posture!”

A thousand people, a thousand interpretations, and art takes many forms.

No one thought the blank face of the tall man was a problem. Praise poured from the judges.

In the end, he received nearly unanimous scores: the highest was 10, the lowest 8.5. None of the ten judges gave below an 8.

Such high marks were extremely rare in the history of the Golden Butterfly competition.

As expected, he won the championship.

Damon, who had shouted the loudest at the start, didn’t even make the top three.

Flashing lights erupted again as Chen Li stepped onto the stage to accept the trophy. Slightly dazed, he bent down, took the trophy, tilted his head, and gave it a little affectionate nuzzle.

This scene quickly became the top trending topic of the night.

. . . . .

By the time he got home, it was already the next day. At Chen Li’s request, his painting had been brought back with him.

He carefully sat on the sofa holding the painting, still carrying a nervous heart like a rabbit, but with no relief at all.

System 001 didn’t understand: [Host, are you unhappy?]

Chen Li shook his head in confusion and fell silent.

He had won first place, received recognition, and showed the painting to many people. So why did he still feel like something was missing inside?

The joy of sharing hadn’t reached his heart immediately.

After who knows how long, Chen Li suddenly moved. He hugged the painting tightly, his voice carrying a faint but unmistakable excitement: “System!”

[Eh?]

Chen Li’s face flushed bright red: “I want to show it to Fu Moyang!”


Author’s note:
The next chapter enters an instance—warning: jealousy ahead.