Sacrificial Lamb (12)
Chen Li’s memories of what happened next were hazy. He felt like a small boat drifting aimlessly on the turbulent waves of the Shanghai sea, helplessly carried along by the roaring tide.
Finally, just as dawn broke, the tsunami subsided—and he completely lost consciousness.
When he regained some awareness, it was already afternoon. He felt a mischievous hand bothering him, interrupting his restless sleep.
With his eyes still closed, Chen Li swatted the offending hand away from his waist. Fu Moyang caught his hand and began to play with it.
Not satisfied with that, he brought Chen Li’s hand to his mouth and gently bit down on his fingers.
A tiny current of electricity surged through Chen Li’s body, fully waking him up. He sighed helplessly and opened his eyes: “I’m hungry.”
His voice was still a little hoarse, the tone tinged with a hint of grievance.
Then he suddenly felt himself being pushed again by the bad guy.
Chen Li blinked in disbelief, trying to recall what he had just said—he couldn’t figure out which word had caused the ghost to react like that.
Fortunately, Fu Moyang still had some conscience. He didn’t make any more moves on him. After contentedly grabbing Chen Li and giving him a quick kiss, he got up: “I’ll go prepare breakfast for you.”
With his memory returning, Fu Moyang had become even harder to handle. Chen Li found himself missing the ghost who used to blush more easily.
Breakfast wasn’t anything fancy. To take care of Chen Li’s body, exhausted from the night before, only light and simple food was laid out.
Fu Moyang, shirtless, scooped rice porridge for him. His strong back was covered in scratch marks—left by a little cat last night.
Even though he could have used ghost energy to instantly heal, he deliberately left the scars as if they were badges of honor.
Blushing, Chen Li muttered softly: “Pervert.”
Fu Moyang handed him the porridge, his voice low and warning: “Don’t tease me again.”
Chen Li: …Who said I was teasing you!?
He pouted and took a big sip of the porridge. The texture was smooth but had some undercooked rice grains mixed in. An overly rich sweetness exploded on his taste buds.
With a gulp, he swallowed.
He stared blankly at the bowl in his hand. The white porcelain with blue patterns held smooth, creamy porridge. The consistency looked just right, and it looked like a perfectly made bowl of porridge.
Chen Li even wondered if something was wrong with his taste buds. He turned his head toward Fu Moyang.
The man was watching him with a deeply unreadable, yet clearly expectant, look in his eyes.
Like a big dog waiting for praise.
It was obvious who had made the porridge.
Chen Li’s feelings were complicated—he hadn’t expected Fu Moyang to have any weaknesses.
He’d almost thought Fu Moyang was perfect, able to handle everything like a flawless butler when he was in trouble before.
Fu Moyang, tired of waiting for a response, took the initiative. Clearing his throat casually, he asked: “Is it good?”
Chen Li looked up and gave him a sweet smile—like an angel—and handed the bowl back to him—
“Why don’t you try drinking it yourself?”
“…”
Silence. Still silence.
Fu Moyang’s smile completely vanished after he took a big sip of the porridge he’d made himself. Expressionless, he set down the bowl.
Chen Li was about to comfort him, but suddenly ghostly flames ignited right on the dining table. Moments later, even the bowls were completely destroyed, leaving the tabletop spotless, as if the simple meal they’d just had was all an illusion.
Chen Li’s stomach let out a soft gurgle.
For once, Fu Moyang looked flustered, but his face quickly returned to calm as he said: “I’ll go have someone make more.”
No sooner had he spoken than several waist-high paper figures came running in, panting.
They quickly served the dishes again. Watching their busy little forms, Chen Li felt an odd fondness despite how creepy they were—maybe because Fu Moyang had made them himself.
Remembering something long forgotten, Chen Li tugged on Fu Moyang’s sleeve.
“Did you give me the system?”
Fu Moyang refilled his porridge and nodded without much interest: “Yeah, it’s that little thing in your head that talks to you all the time.”
Chen Li was curious: “So you’ve known all along?”
“I could tell, but I wasn’t interested in eavesdropping,” Fu Moyang replied casually, fingers absentmindedly playing with Chen Li’s messy hair.
Chen Li distinctly heard System 001 sighing in relief inside his head, even making a soft whimpering sound.
He kindly pretended not to hear.
As they ate this afternoon meal, someone who had just started feeling lively couldn’t help but want to come over for hugs and kisses.
Chen Li firmly pushed him away. Blushing, he quickly changed the subject to avoid any shameless remarks: “My NPC mission panel won’t open in this instance. Do you know why?”
Fu Moyang’s expression grew a bit serious, though he still played with Chen Li’s hand: “The Horror Game’s malfunctioning.”
Though he’d expected it, Chen Li was still surprised.
Fu Moyang went on: “I don’t know exactly what will happen, but I suspect that after hiding all these years, it’s about to launch some kind of operation. I exploited a loophole to become the instance’s hidden boss.”
“A hidden boss? I thought you were the final boss of this instance.”
“It’s the High Priest,” Fu Moyang’s eyes flashed coldly. “Want to go down the mountain?”
He had some scores to settle.
Although they’d made a deal—he promised to bring the Holy Son up—he hadn’t expected such rough method.
Originally, he hadn’t planned to let him live. But when he learned from the paper figures that the little lamb had been tied up, he almost wiped out the entire town below.
Foolish trash.
Fu Moyang swallowed his murderous intent, lowered his eyes, and gently bit the hand that was a size smaller than his own.
Chen Li glared at him and tried to pull his hand back, but then felt a kiss on his palm, making his face flush even more. He hurriedly said: “Okay, okay, let’s go down now!”
He had a strong feeling that if he stayed here any longer, he’d be bullied again by the bad guy.
Besides, there were still many things he wanted to figure out.
Fu Moyang reluctantly let go of his hand and instead wrapped his arm around Chen Li’s waist, leaning close to whisper in his ear: “How about we go kill all those players who’ve been bullying you?”
Since last night, those silver-grey eyes had unmasked their slit pupils, wild and beastlike.
Chen Li smacked his head lightly.
He was a bit annoyed: “You can’t kill people.”
Fu Moyang looked down at him and, seeing no trace of fear in Chen Li’s eyes, his mood brightened and his tone softened slightly: “But they probably won’t survive the next couple of days anyway.”
“Why?”
Fu Moyang explained: “This instance has two modes: easy and hard. Before you came up the mountain, they were already locked into hard mode. Remember the day you came back from the Zhou family?”
Chen Li nodded, still shaken: “Yeah. After the sacrifice was gone, the townspeople started acting weird, like they’d gone mad.”
If it hadn’t been for the ghost bus helping him out, he might not have escaped.
Fu Moyang: “It was the ghosts.”
“Ghosts?” Chen Li tilted his head.
“Ninety-nine percent of NPCs who die unfairly in Horror Game turn into vengeful ghosts. This town has had a tradition of offering sacrifices for many years. How many innocent people have been killed? How many became vengeful ghosts?” Fu Moyang slowly explained.
Chen Li thought for a moment: “So the shrine never really protected them. It was just the townspeople’s wishful thinking and the High Priest deceiving them.”
Fu Moyang rewarded him by ruffling his hair: “Smart.”
But if that’s the case, the High Priest only needs sacrifices to fake rituals and consolidate his power. So why lie about needing a Holy Son or Holy Maiden? And why do those exalted holy children keep disappearing, always needing to be replaced?
There had to be more to it.
Thinking about the strange emotions he saw hidden in the High Priest’s gaze when he looked at him gave Chen Li chills.
He looked up and met Fu Moyang’s eyes: “Let’s go down the mountain now. I want to see the town.”
Even though going down the mountain was his idea from the start, Fu Moyang was a little displeased: “You want to save them?”
Chen Li shook his head, blinking with a small voice: “No… they bully me. I just want to scare them.”
Fu Moyang said nothing. Chen Li felt nervous: “Am I being too mean?”
“No,” Fu Moyang said in a low voice, “Too cute.”
Then he couldn’t resist and lowered his head to kiss him.
The sticky wet sounds filled the room again, occasionally mixed with faint, pitiful whimpers.
He didn’t know how things ended up like this, but just as Chen Li was about to be dragged into bed, he bit Fu Moyang’s tongue hard just in time.
The metallic sweetness of blood spread from where their lips and tongues met. Fu Moyang clung to it like a dying man grasping his last drop of water, reluctant to part as he swept through one last time before letting go.
Perhaps it was the lingering influence of the last instance, but when Chen Li tasted Fu Moyang’s blood, he wasn’t alarmed. In fact, he swallowed it without thinking.
Once he realized what he’d done, he panicked and buried himself under the covers like a frightened little ostrich, mumbling an apology: “S-Sorry.”
There was still a glimmer of excitement in Fu Moyang’s eyes as he said: “Did you know that for a ghost, blood from the tip of the tongue is like vital essence?”
Swallowing that kind of blood—it was practically a bold confession of love.
Just that one sentence cost him half an hour of coaxing before he finally got the little ostrich to crawl out of bed.
Once their relationship was confirmed, a thoroughly indignant Chen Li dropped all pretense and showed his spoiled, willful side. He raised his foot to kick him: “It’s all your fault!”
“Yes, all my fault,” Fu Moyang said as he gently caught his pale, delicate foot and carefully helped him into socks and shoes.
Seizing the moment, Chen Li made a demand: “From now on, you’re not allowed to kiss me without warning.”
Fu Moyang helped him into a new robe, his tone gentle but firm: “No.”
That was the one thing he wouldn’t compromise on.
Wrapped in the oversized robe, Chen Li poked out two fingers to tug at Fu Moyang’s sleeve, his voice soft and sweet: “Th-Then next time you kiss me… you have to tell me first. That way I can be mentally prepared.”
“Alright,” Fu Moyang lowered his head. “Then I’m asking now—can I kiss you?”
“…Mmph!”