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~