With a very crisp sound, Ji Xing shoved Lu Shiyue away hard.
He lacked physical strength, and his push was soft and weak. His palm connected with the leather of Lu Shiyue’s chest clothing, producing a sharp smack.
According to his character setting, Ji Xing shouldn’t have reacted to anyone’s words.
Yet, he felt hurt by that remark and simply disliked being spoken to in such a manner.
After pushing Lu Shiyue away, he turned his face aside, hiding his reddened eye corners. Highly sensitive to other people’s emotions, he loathed this kind of unprovoked, groundless malice vented straight onto him.
Lu Shiyue was stunned as well. He hadn’t expected Ji Xing to resist. In his memory, the little mute had always followed softly and meekly behind Ning Jue, with pretty brows and eyes that were quiet and obedient like a well-behaved cat, never extending claws to scratch people.
To be honest, Ji Xing’s push felt almost imperceptible to him—light, frail, and powerless, incapable of causing him a single shred of harm.
Yet he saw Ji Xing’s drooping dark hair, the clear disappointment in his expression, and the wet, flushed red lingering at the corners of his eyes, visible even through the strands of hair.
Was he angry?
Lu Shiyue couldn’t spit out a single word. It felt stuck in his throat, making his chest heavy and stifled.
What should he say? Should he apologize?
When Ning Jue made Ji Xing angry, would he also humble himself to apologize?
When Ji Xing was snatched away by a monster, his very first reaction had been explosive fury. He was incensed by the monster’s recklessness. Once Ji Xing disappeared, his anger turned into agony and remorse. The moment he pictured those dewy green eyes, his heart felt as though it were being squeezed tightly by something.
When those players were talking, he had even wanted to take care of them right then and there just to go look for Ji Xing, but he couldn’t do so because of the rules.
Why would a dodder-flower-like little mute—a bird in a cage he had always looked down upon—cause him to lose his composure to this extent?
When Ji Xing returned safely, he had heaved a sigh of relief as if a heavy burden had been lifted. That relaxation didn’t stem from fear of Ning Jue’s future retaliation, but from within himself—his heartstrings being pulled by someone, keeping his attention constantly fixed on Ji Xing.
He clearly shouldn’t be feeling this way; it wasn’t his style at all.
“Alright, alright,” Yan Xiao chimed in from the side, sensing the situation going awry and rushing out to play peacemaker.
“It’s good that he’s back. It’s getting late, and there’s still a mission tomorrow morning. Captain Lu should get some rest early.”
Lu Shiyue signaled that the other players could go rest, and the players fled the scene as if granted a pardon from heaven.
Ji Xing stood in place. His spawn point and Lu Shiyue’s were the same room, meaning they had to share living quarters per the game requirements.
Actually, he didn’t care about these details; regardless of whether it was the protagonist or a supporting character, staying by anyone’s side was all the same to him.
He followed behind Lu Shiyue up the stairs, unable to see the man’s expression.
Although the guest room facilities were outdated, the bedding was relatively clean.
When Ji Xing walked into the room, there were two wooden beds. One of them was already made, while the other was empty. The comforters and quilts from both beds had been piled onto a single frame, and the multi-layered, cushioned bed belonged to Ji Xing.
The bed had been made by Lu Shiyue.
When reviewing game footage previously, Lu Shiyue had noticed that Ji Xing had tender skin and was particular about his sleeping arrangements. A hard wooden board would be too abrasive, causing him to toss and turn before finally falling asleep, waking up with red, bruised marks on his elbows.
Ji Xing hesitated for a moment. “091, why are there two comforters on my bed?”
“Ahaha, baby, someone has thick skin and doesn’t need to cover up. Baby, don’t worry about him, just treat it as him compensating you.”
Ji Xing sank into the soft bedding, covered by Lu Shiyue’s quilt, with only the upper half of his face exposed from the snowy-white cotton blanket.
Lu Shiyue couldn’t keep his mouth shut again. Just as he was about to say the youth was delicate, he turned around and saw Ji Xing: because of the night’s trials, his eyes were slightly swollen, his eye corners flushed red, and his lovely green eyes carried a listless expression.
Since he couldn’t speak, he naturally had no way to voice his discomfort.
An unremarkable necklace hung around Ji Xing’s neck—silver, carved with hollow patterns, small and delicate. It was the communication prop given to him by Ning Jue, a rare-tier item that the captain of Vanguard had risked his life in an S-class dungeon to obtain as a mission reward.
It allowed communication with the bound person in any form, breaking through spatial limitations. After entering a dungeon, it could contact people outside, acting as a life-saving prop at critical moments—a priceless treasure sought after by thousands of gold in the outside gaming arenas, gifted by Ning Jue to his little boyfriend simply to be used as decorative video-chat equipment.
Ji Xing touched the necklace. No matter what, maintaining a career-driven mindset was essential; he needed to confirm the protagonist’s mission progress on the other end.
The necklace emitted a faint silver glow, followed by a flicker of silver radiance. After a burst of brighter light, a light screen materialized.
A handsome face appeared on the screen. The background behind Ning Jue was completely black; he seemed to have just finished a mission, his temples damp with sweat, droplets trickling down, and his eyes carrying traces of bloodshot intensity while panting slightly. Yet he looked as though he had tidied up, his attire relatively neat as he forcefully reined in his surging, unstoppable fighting spirit.
Upon catching sight of Ji Xing’s face, the fierce killing intent in Ning Jue’s eyes vanished instantly. His ice-blue pupils, murderous like a head-wolf, melted like solid ice, turning exceptionally soft—like a rippling pool of water, gazing at Ji Xing full of affection.
His little boyfriend seemed just woken up, nestled completely inside the quilt with only half his face exposed, flushed pink from the residual heat. He looked half-asleep, barely maintaining his focus, his gaze dazed and heavy with sleepiness, dark hair sticking against his snow-white face. Ji Xing reached out, slowly tucking that stray strand of hair behind his ear.
“Xiao Jiu, baby, are you going to sleep?”
Listening from the side, Lu Shiyue felt his scalp go numb. In his memory, Ning Jue had never spoken to anyone in such a tone, nor had he ever looked at anyone else with such gentle eyes.
Ning Jue was cold and decisive, devoid of a shred of emotion whether treating enemies or his own people, yet right now his tone was filled with coaxing.
Ji Xing was very obedient, steadfastly sticking to his character setting by playing a well-behaved weapon. He nodded hard, reached out to fish a backup notepad from beneath his pillow, lowered his head, and began furiously scribbling.
A large expanse of fair, delicate, and slender neck was exposed to the camera frame. His hair had grown a bit longer, resting against his neck, with a few stray strands dropping into his collar and sinking into unseen depths.
Ning Jue’s gaze darkened. He knew how tender Ji Xing’s skin was; a light touch could leave a prominent red mark.
Back then, during the Red Candle dungeon and their wedding night, he had merely latched onto that soft flesh and given it a light nip, and Ji Xing’s skin instantly flushed a large, striking red that caught the eye and took many days to fade. Ji Xing was afraid of pain; even though he hadn’t used much force, it still hurt, leading him to consistently refuse any further touching.
Ji Xing held up the paper in front of the camera, his petal-pink nails gripping the edge of the sheet. Written on the paper were the words:
“Not yet, getting ready to sleep.”
“So obedient.”
On the surface, Ning Jue maintained that tender expression, while calculations were already brewing in his mind. Ji Xing’s routine was consistently regular; if he stayed up even a little late, he would grow overwhelmingly sleepy. Staying awake this late meant trouble must have occurred over there.
Yet he couldn’t rush over just yet; both of their personal missions needed completion. No matter how anxious he felt, it was of no use.
“Baby, it’s so late, why aren’t you asleep yet?”
Ning Jue asked with a seemingly casual air.
Ji Xing lowered his head, his fingers scribbling rapidly: “Everyone got lost while executing the mission, so we came back a bit late.”
He lied, concealing the fact that he had been snatched away by a monster and encountered a key NPC. The protagonist’s possessiveness was acting up; telling him the truth would mean getting hounded relentlessly.
Outside the camera’s view, his fingers trembled slightly. Ji Xing rarely lied, and his action carried panic and fluster, worried he would be seen through by Ning Jue.
Ning Jue didn’t pursue the matter further. He still had missions to handle on his end, so after exchanging a few affectionate words with Ji Xing, he logged off.
“Is this how you two normally are?”
Standing tall with offensive skills, Lu Shiyue cast a massive shadow over Ji Xing, enveloping him completely and exerting an intense sense of oppression.
Ji Xing was puzzled and tilted his head. He didn’t quite understand Lu Shiyue’s words—what did like this mean? Who with whom? With Ning Jue?
Maintaining that same innocent expression, his hair cascaded onto his half-exposed, rounded shoulders as he moved. Furious, Lu Shiyue didn’t even know where his anger came from or why it was generated.
Starting from the moment Ling Xiye appeared, through the ambiguous kiss marks on his skin, and finally ending with Ning Jue.
A flirtatious honeybee drawing constant swarms of people crowding around Ji Xing—a buzzing filled his mind, and uncontrolled words slipped straight past his lips.
“Have you let Ning Jue play with you like that?”