“Make him answer his mother’s call?”
But that number wasn’t his mother’s at all.
How could he possibly pick up?
On one side they were forcing him to become an accomplice — a monster who treats human life as nothing — and on the other they held the original host’s photo-theft and online scam secrets, forcing him to read obscene words written by a pervert.
If that call went through and the two perverts’ voices shared the same channel, he couldn’t even bear to imagine what would happen.
Whichever of those things the other, uninformed party found out about, it would only bring countless troubles.
It might even become a second piece of leverage against him.
The phone kept buzzing “beep beep beep,” like a death knell; every sound struck at Wen Ruyu’s heart and made his scalp tingle.
His hand was nearly unable to hold the phone steady.
Wen Ruyu squeezed the phone hard in his palm, his knuckles whitening from the grip; only when a sharp pain shot through did he force himself to calm down.
He did not pick up the call. Instead, his voice broke with a hint of sobbing; his trembling tone was almost all plea. “N...no...I can’t...that’s my mother...”
“She...she doesn’t know...”
He sounded utterly pitiful in that moment; the quaver in his crying voice, the pleading tone, all like someone badly bullied, sobbing and begging the other to go easy.
It tightened the listener’s chest.
And it inflamed the listener’s desire.
Yi Wen Bu Zhi’s breath suddenly stalled; heavy breathing came through the receiver, carrying a suppressed heat. After almost half a minute he finally rasped out an order.
“Message me after you answer.”
He hung up immediately after saying it, clearly sparing Wen Ruyu for now.
Only then did Wen Ruyu let out a slight breath — but it lasted barely a second. He watched the incoming call display keep flashing on the screen, his heart gripped by an invisible hand, his pale fingertips trembling violently.
He dared not refuse to pick up.
Just as his trembling finger moved to press the answer key, the call was automatically disconnected.
It had timed out while ringing.
Before Wen Ruyu could even relax, the phone vibrated again — the same familiar number.
This time he dared not delay. His finger stiffly slid the accept key, he brought the phone to his ear, his voice shaking uncontrollably.
“Hello...”
His voice was a wreck, thick with tension and fear, threaded with an almost uncontrollable quiver and sob.
It sounded unbearably fragile.
The man on the other end froze mid-beat, then after a few seconds the familiar amused voice came through. “What were you doing just now? The call wouldn’t go through.”
The man’s voice carried amusement, still that gentle yet uncanny tone, dangerous and sticky like a serpent’s strike, making the hairs on your arms stand on end.
He seemed angry.
All because Wen Ruyu hadn’t answered in time.
Wen Ruyu’s heart clenched; his lips trembled, but he couldn’t force out a single word.
“What’s the matter?” the man seemed to sense something; the amusement in his tone deepened, with a hint of playfulness. “Were you chatting with your secret crush just now?”
Wen Ruyu bit his lower lip hard until it went white before he found his voice and stammered.
“No...”
“No?” the man gave a meaning-laden chuckle, clearly skeptical. “Then why is your breathing so ragged? Were you talking about something shameful?”
“No…” Wen Ruyu’s voice broke into fragments and shook even more.
“It was with my mother...”
After suffering wrongs and terrifying things, seeking one’s mother for comfort was the most natural response.
It was normal to cry like this.
Most likely he dared not tell his mother the whole truth, only whining pitifully and crying, feeling wronged like a lost kitten.
This time the man did not doubt Wen Ruyu’s words; the image made him laugh out loud. “Are you a child? You go to your mother for comfort over something as small as killing someone?”
The man’s voice sounded delighted, devoid of the earlier menace, as if they were merely having ordinary small talk.
But the content of that small talk tightened Wen Ruyu’s chest so much he could barely breathe.
Killing someone?
A small thing?
Was that a small thing?
In the man’s voice there was no shadow; to him it truly was nothing more than a trivial matter, as if the life wasn’t a person but a weed in his way.
Kill it and be done.
And it sounded like it wasn’t the first time he’d killed.
“Why aren’t you speaking?” the man’s tone turned teasing. “Still feeling wronged? Or—” he paused, laughing again, “are you thinking about how to get rid of me?”
Wen Ruyu’s heart dropped. He bit down hard and gripped the phone so tightly his knuckles went white.
The man laughed again, amusement still in his voice. “If that’s what you’re thinking, don’t waste your effort.”
“After all, I still have your photos.”
“Once I post them online or hand them to the police, who do you think will believe you were coerced?”
The man’s laughter and Wen Ruyu’s trembling voice wove together into a strange, oppressive atmosphere that was almost enough to drive someone mad.
“I didn’t—” Wen Ruyu’s voice shook more, on the verge of breaking into sobs. “I didn’t kill that person...”
“But now you’re my accomplice.” The man cut him off, his tone carefree. “Now we are on the same boat.”
Wen Ruyu’s face went nearly translucent. He pressed his lips together and said nothing; he knew the man was right — that photo was the deadliest evidence.
Even if he could prove he had been coerced, the police would likely list him as a suspect first and detain him; before they cleared his name, Yang Ruiqing would already be dead.
Wen Ruyu’s voice, fractured and suppressed, struggled out. “...What exactly do you want?”
“Very simple.” The man’s voice softened into a coaxing tone, as if soothing a compliant pet. “Obey me.”
“Do what I tell you to do.”
“For example...” he paused, amusement in his tone, “come to Building A, Dormitory 206 at six in the afternoon tomorrow.”
Wen Ruyu wanted instinctively to refuse; he didn’t want to see this man again, didn’t want any more ties to this murderer.
But he had no right to refuse now.
The man gave him no opportunity to refuse.
“I don’t like waiting for people.”
There was no change in the man’s tone, but it carried an unambiguous pressure that brooked no denial. He chuckled softly.
“I’ll expect to see you at six in the afternoon, won’t I?”
Wen Ruyu’s body froze; his lips trembled and he hesitated to answer.
The man on the other end waited a few seconds as if he hadn’t gotten the response he wanted; the amusement in his voice faded and he made a low, threatening sound.
“Hmm?”
That single “hmm” rose on the tail, low and dangerous, an unhidden warning.
It was as if, the moment Wen Ruyu uttered a single “no,” something terrible would happen the next second.
Wen Ruyu’s slender body shuddered again. He no longer dared to hesitate; his voice broke as he answered.
“Yes...”
Hearing that, the man laughed again, satisfaction and even a note of praise in his tone, as if rewarding a well-behaved pet.
“Good child.”