Sacrificial Lamb (11)
The ghost lowered his head and glanced at him, displeased with his wandering thoughts. He leaned in again, pressing the scale close to him, his breath brushing intimately against his skin: “You belong to me.”
“So whatever you’re thinking right now is not allowed. All you need to do is look at me.”
Even with the red veil still between them, Chen Li could hear the unspoken threat hidden in that shadowed voice. But he had no strength to soothe or resist, especially since the Fu Moyang behind him was becoming increasingly outrageous!
A sharp, deliberate suck on the back of his neck made Chen Li’s scalp tingle as he gripped the hem of his clothes tightly: “W-Wait!”
He didn’t even know whether he was saying that to the core of the ghost or to the ghost himself. Either way, neither stopped—in fact, both only intensified their actions.
The ghost in front of him grew sullen upon seeing his “resistance.” Without a word, he began unbuttoning his clothes. Even the intricate dragon-patterned fastenings couldn’t hold out for long under his hands, and the snow-white inner garment was soon revealed.
Fu Moyang went even further—his hand slowly slid down Chen Li’s spine until it rested at the tailbone, as if something there fascinated him. He kept kneading the spot while whispering softly in his ear: “I remember everything now.”
The heat of those words poured into his ear and soaked into his mind, but his muddled brain couldn’t make sense of them—nor the madness laced beneath the surface.
Chen Li trembled, feeling like a sweet strawberry filling being sandwiched between two rough cookies.
When a coarse tongue scraped across his tender skin, the corners of his eyes reddened as he shivered: “…No.”
The red bridal veil finally fell to the ground.
The ghost halted, staring at him in a daze. His tongue slid over sharp fangs, revealing an extremely aggressive expression: “So beautiful.”
The helpless little lamb was bound, his neck tilted upward in a sacrificial pose, revealing the pulsing veins beneath his pale skin—so full of vibrant life, yet so fragile.
Just a light touch would tear them open, and that delicious vitality he craved would drain away. But if it could become his one and only treasure, that wouldn’t be such a bad thing.
Moved by the thought, the ghost’s fingers involuntarily reached for that neck, pressing down on the most fatal artery.
Chen Li looked up at him in a daze, his eyes blank. A patch on the back of his neck, already swollen and numb from repeated abuse, throbbed faintly.
Behind him, Fu Moyang giggled softly and murmured: “He wants to kill you.”
That was his core—the true essence of who he was.
A mass of malice, shadows, and negative emotion.
This was him.
Raw, unfiltered, nothing but a clump of filth.
He would stop at nothing to keep the things he desired by his side forever.
The ghost’s grip tightened. The skin beneath turned red from the pressure. He slowly lowered his head, sharp canine teeth and cold breath brushing close enough to feel.
But he never followed through with his intentions—because suddenly, someone hugged him.
The unfamiliar sensation made his entire body freeze. He didn’t dare move, afraid he might scare off this small creature that had come to him of its own accord.
Warm, gentle breath brushed against his shoulder. Chen Li held him by the neck and whispered: “I’m sorry.”
Through the ghost before him, he was apologizing to that failed wedding from four years ago.
Everything had come back to him.
At sixteen, he had destroyed that wedding—and run away.
This apology wasn’t spoken by his sixteen-year-old self, but by the him whose soul, at this moment, is twenty years old—and has fallen in love with this ghost.
From behind, Fu Moyang suddenly spoke, his voice hoarse: “After you ran away, the core I had originally separated from was too severely shaken and was forced to return to my body.”
When he woke up, he couldn’t remember anything. All he knew was that a part of his memory was missing.
To fill the void in his heart and suppress the urge to destroy the world, he came to the Horror Game in search of some kind of thrill.
Fu Moyang let out another soft laugh: “So it turns out I fell in love with you at first sight… even earlier than I thought.”
Both times they met—it had always been this way.
As the final word left his lips, his expression suddenly darkened: “It’s time to go.”
His patience had reached its limit. Even if the other being was a version of his former self, he would never allow his little lamb to be touched.
Chen Li suddenly felt a tightness around his waist, then the world shifted as he was lifted into someone’s arms.
The ghost, stunned by the hug and the apology, finally snapped back to awareness. He realized, at last, that there were “others” in the room—and that his lamb was about to be taken away.
The silver-grey vertical pupils were ferocious, like a wild beast that had broken free of its leash, and a meaningless growl rumbled from deep in his throat.
In an instant, black energy streaked with crimson swept through the room, setting everything ablaze.
Everything—except the small space where Chen Li stood—was devoured by flames.
Fu Moyang slowly materialized, coldly watching the ghost go mad.
Four years ago, it had been the same—the core went insane when the young man ran away.
The pain of those memories came rushing back, yet he felt no torment.
Because now, he was holding his lamb.
The ghost didn’t react with surprise when he saw a ghost identical to himself appear in the room. His eyes turned blood-red, hands morphing into black claws as he lunged straight for Fu Moyang’s chest, aiming to rip out that falsely-beating heart and crush it without hesitation.
Fu Moyang dodged swiftly, still cradling Chen Li. The red hem of his wedding robe lifted into a sweeping arc through the air.
Both ghosts were deliberately avoiding injuring Chen Li. Though they weren’t fighting at full force, their destructive power was immense—within moments, the entire room collapsed with a thunderous crash, and the piled-up treasures and gemstones were obliterated in an instant.
They stood atop the ruins, like wild beasts battling for their mate and territory, engaging in a brutal, primal fight.
The two were equal in strength and fighting style. If not for their concern for the young man, they would have already ended in mutual destruction.
The ghost finally spotted an opening. A massive, pitch-black claw lunged straight at Fu Moyang’s neck.
“Watch out!” Chen Li’s mind went blank. He raised his arms and shielded Fu Moyang’s head with his own body, trying to block the attack.
Both ghosts’ pupils contracted. One withdrew his move, the other dodged.
Fu Moyang growled: “Are you trying to get yourself killed?!”
It was the first time he had ever shouted at Chen Li, his murderous aura leaking uncontrollably.
That “opening” just now had been deliberately left by him. He never imagined that the timid, trembling little lamb would suddenly find such strength to protect him.
Fu Moyang’s hands wouldn’t stop shaking, dread creeping up from deep within.
If he hadn’t dodged in time—or if the other ghost hadn’t withdrawn—then the person in his arms right now would be a cold, lifeless corpse.
It was the first time he had ever experienced fear.
Standing amidst the rubble, he held the person in his arms tightly, checking his breathing over and over again, like an addict desperate for a fix.
Chen Li gently comforted him, heart aching: “I’m fine. Really, I’m fine.”
He seemed unaware of—or simply unconcerned by—the terrifying expression on the man’s face.
As he spoke, he couldn’t help glancing at the other figure.
The ghost had dropped to one knee, the dark claw reverting to a human hand, knuckles defined and covered in fine scars deep enough to expose bone. A wound in his abdomen nearly split his torso in half, but he didn’t even spare it a glance. His eyes were locked on Chen Li, wild and obsessive.
He had struck with the intent to kill, so the backlash from withdrawing his attack hit him hard.
The murderous aura that had surged through him crumbled the moment Chen Li finally looked his way. The ghost’s fierce eyes welled with bloody tears as he reached toward him and pleaded: “Don’t go.”
Looking at the ghost’s core, Chen Li’s breath nearly stopped. Then his vision went black, and something covered his eyes.
Fu Moyang felt the delicate, curled eyelashes brushing his palm and heard a hoarse voice whisper: “Don’t look.”
Like a wounded wolf desperately hiding its injury, wanting to lick its wounds alone, he tried to conceal his shameful past completely.
Centered in this room, the rampaging ghost energy radiated outward in all directions. This surge of power came from Fu Moyang himself, aimed at destroying this place. Unleashed and uncontrolled, the energy quickly engulfed the entire city.
An unfathomable black mist swallowed the “city prison” he had built with his own hands. The ground where they once stood turned into nothingness.
With his eyes covered, Chen Li’s ears became more sensitive. He could hear cries and pleas for help, near and far.
They were the city’s gathered grievances and resentments, all devoured by the ghost energy, leaving no trace behind in the world.
The ghost energy attacked everything it could detect indiscriminately—but it consistently avoided the small area where Chen Li stood. This ruined patch had become the only safe sanctuary.
How long had passed, Chen Li didn’t know. Eventually, all the sounds faded away, leaving a silence so deep it unsettled him.
They could leave the painting now.
The thought flashed through his mind, and he couldn’t help but reach up to brush away the hand covering his eyes.
This time, Fu Moyang didn’t stop him. He obediently withdrew his hand.
Around them was the same void of darkness as when they arrived. The man holding him was steady, walking step by step in the opposite direction from before.
Behind them was the fading glow. The ghost’s core stood there, expression dark and unreadable, with no intention of chasing after them. Bloodstains had dried into strange patterns beneath his eyes. He just watched.
Saying nothing. Doing nothing.
Watching the lamb be taken away with an unexpected calm.
Until the very last second before leaving, Chen Li suddenly opened his eyes wide.
Because he heard the ghost’s voice—echoing from inside his heart, sinking deep into his bones and marrow.
“It’s alright, because I know I already have you—in the future.”
Startled, Chen Li turned back. The ghost’s core in the fading light smiled at him—an earnest sigh, and yet a curse meant to bind them for all eternity: “We will always be together.”
“Ugh!”
Chen Li forced his eyes open and gasped for air, like someone who’d almost drowned.
He curled his fingers, his racing heart and the golden shrine before him both telling him he was back.
A shadow fell across his face as Fu Moyang looked at him with a smile: “Let’s continue what we didn’t finish.”
His emotions finally seemed calm, though the repressed feelings in his eyes betrayed his unease. Then, without leaving room for argument, he bent his head and kissed those soft lips.
Chen Li’s eyes reddened. His fingers clenched at a small corner of the man’s shirt. Between breaths, he asked: “What now?”
“The wedding night.”
Author’s note:
Lights out!