In the end, Ran Muqiu failed to leave.
Likely due to the beating and injuries, paired with the chill of the wind on the way back and the chaotic tussle earlier, Li Zhu successfully managed to spike a fever of 39.5°C after stepping out of the shower.
That number was genuinely alarming. Terrified that the fever might worsen his wounds, Ran Muqiu had intended to take him to the hospital. But Li Zhu refused no matter what, and with Ran Muqiu’s phone dead, he had no way to call anyone. Left with no choice, he stayed behind to keep watch.
Right now, Ran Muqiu sat on a small stool he had dragged from the balcony to the bedside. Hugging his knees with his chin propped up, he stared gloomily at the person in bed.
The sharpest, most intimidating part of Li Zhu’s features was his piercing eyes. With them closed, his face looked clean-cut and remarkably handsome, finally resembling the delicate protagonist shou he was supposed to be.
It was just enough to make Ran Muqiu too soft-hearted to walk away.
He leaned forward, glanced at the numbers on the thermometer again, and let out a long, heavy sigh.
Li Zhu usually seemed tough and resilient, but falling ill rendered him shockingly fragile—almost like a child.
Every two minutes or so, he would crack his eyes open, ensure that Ran Muqiu hadn’t left, and only then close them again.
The moment Ran Muqiu made the slightest move to stand, Li Zhu’s Heartbreak Value would shoot up with alarming leaps and bounds.
Ultimately, after several rounds of this, Ran Muqiu didn’t dare budge an inch.
After sitting for a while out of sheer boredom, he pulled up the system interface and stared blankly at the line of numbers next to [Li Zhu].
A full eighty points.
Ran Muqiu didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
In theory, with Li Zhu being one of the targets, seeing his heartbreak value surge this high ought to be a reason to celebrate. After all, it meant he had a chance at double clearance rewards.
Yet sitting here looking at that number, only one thought occupied his mind:
This is terrifying!
Why did both the protagonist gong and shou in this world seem so mentally unhinged?
The protagonist shou was especially absurd.
After all, it had taken him over half a month of grueling effort just to scrape Feng Qin’s heartbreak value up to seventy.
Now, in less than half a day, Li Zhu’s heartbreak value had skyrocketed straight to eighty.
Who on earth gained heartbreak points like this?
There was zero gradual progression to it.
Ran Muqiu knew all too well how frightening a protagonist gong with seventy heartbreak points could be.
Whenever Feng Qin caught an opening, he would bully him relentlessly.
On top of that, he was completely temperamental, never spoke a kind word, and would sink his teeth into him the second he was displeased. Ran Muqiu was genuinely terrified of him.
To this day, there were still faint tooth marks left on his collarbones from Feng Qin.
Now, faced with a protagonist shou at eighty heartbreak points, Ran Muqiu had absolutely no idea what madness to expect.
Even worse, at least he understood the reasons behind Feng Qin’s rising numbers, allowing him to exploit them to push the mission forward. But regarding why Li Zhu had turned out like this, Ran Muqiu was completely in the dark.
After sitting in a daze for a long while and noticing that Li Zhu’s breathing had finally evened out, Ran Muqiu stealthily stood up.
Yet no matter how light his movements were, the moment he rose, his wrist was snatched instantly.
The boy in bed gripped his hand tightly. From the look in his fever-glazed eyes, his consciousness was hazy, yet he guarded him like prey, staring unblinkingly as if terrified that the boy would run off with someone else the second he looked away.
Cornered, Ran Muqiu turned around and coaxed him in a soft whisper: “D-don’t move around. I’m not leaving, okay? I won’t go. I’m just going to the restroom.”
Li Zhu stared at him for a few seconds before slowly letting go.
Only then did Ran Muqiu breathe a sigh of relief. He slipped out to use the bathroom, then poured himself a cup of water.
Having finally escaped the cramped bedroom, he took slow sips from his cup, wandering idly around the living room, pausing here and there to look around.
On the balcony, a small pot of green scallions sat basking in the air, growing lush, green, and full of life.
Tilting his head to study the scallions, Ran Muqiu couldn’t help but picture the usually solemn, reticent protagonist shou snipping off a piece with kitchen shears to toss into a cooking pot.
The thought made him smile, instantly sweeping away the lingering tension and gloom of the past few hours.
Engrossed in the sight, Ran Muqiu didn’t even notice when Li Zhu had walked up behind him.
When a pair of warm arms wrapped around him from behind, the water cup nearly slipped from his fingers. He whipped around in panic: “W-when did you come out?”
Having taken antipyretics, Li Zhu’s fever had dipped slightly, but his body still ran noticeably hotter than usual. Wearing only a single thin layer, that scorching heat easily seeped into Ran Muqiu’s skin.
“You didn’t come back. I thought you left.”
Ran Muqiu thought to himself: How would I dare leave? What if your heartbreak value shoots up like crazy again?
I do want to finish the mission, but not like this!
If it ends with no clear logic, I won’t even know how to write the debrief report once I return.
Clearing his throat, he tried to comfort Li Zhu just as he had earlier. But the moment he opened his mouth, a shiver ran through him.
A sudden heat began burning against the side of his face.
Li Zhu had started kissing his earlobe.
The warm, wet friction on his ear sent a numb tingling sensation racing down his entire spine. After a long moment of brain freeze, he finally remembered to resist.
“Why are you kissing me.” With Li Zhu injured, Ran Muqiu didn’t dare shove him too hard. He used his free hand to brace against the boy’s shoulder, only for his wrist to be caught immediately. “Mph—”
His voice was smothered right back down his throat.
Li Zhu used the momentum to pin his hand. In that locked posture, one arm wrapped firmly around his waist while the other cupped his chin, turning the boy’s face slightly before lowering his head to capture his lips.
He always kissed like this—as though he hadn’t touched lips in eight hundred years, latching on relentlessly once he started. Even though this wasn’t the first time, Ran Muqiu still couldn’t handle such a suffocatingly deep kiss. Just as he resolved to push him off forcefully, his feet left the floor.
He was scooped up behind the knees and carried straight back to the small bed.
Ran Muqiu couldn’t fathom how someone who had just taken a vicious beating and was running a high fever still possessed such absurd strength. His struggles proved entirely futile as he was pressed onto the bed along with the tangled sheets.
“The wounds on your stomach.”
Li Zhuo clearly couldn’t care less about his wounds, leaning down with reckless abandon.
The situation spiraled completely out of control.
High fever seemed to have the exact same intoxicating effect on Li Zhu as heavy drinking, making him a hundred times harder to deal with than when clear-headed. With physiological tears welling up from the harsh kissing, Ran Muqiu shoved against his chest desperately.
“Be good.”
Li Zhu pinned the boy’s flailing arms across his chest with one forearm, burying his face in Ran Muqiu’s neck while his breath came in heavy, ragged pants. Seeing the person beneath him thrashing and whimpering non-stop, he paused briefly, lifted his head, and actually began to coax him.
Yet Li Zhu was inherently a man of few words; even when placating someone, all he knew was to murmur “be good,” lacking any other tricks. After whispering it a few times, he sought his lips once more, panting heavily from deep in his throat: “Just one more kiss, just one.”
Ran Muqiu had already seized the chance to bury his face deep into the quilt, refusing no matter what.
Li Zhu remained surprisingly patient. Seeing him refuse, he didn’t force his head around; instead, he peppered gentle kisses across the back of Ran Muqiu’s hand, pleading repeatedly until his tone sounded almost like a desperate prayer.
The blanket was a tangled mess, leaving most of it off Ran Muqiu. The only barriers between them were Ran Muqiu’s own clothes and Li Zhu’s thin shirt.
What Li Zhu was begging for in that voice could easily be felt without needing to press any closer.
Ran Muqiu had known for a long time that the other’s physical build far exceeded his own. The chaotic scene at the campsite was still fresh in his memory, and he had zero desire to relive it.
Besides, what happened in the past was in the past. Back then, to maintain his persona, he had to put up an act; otherwise, Li Zhu might doubt his sincerity as a patron, failing the goal of inflicting heartbreak.
But now they had officially broken off the arrangement and laid everything out in the open. What on earth was this supposed to be?
“Do you even know what you’re doing?” Ran Muqiu muffled his voice into the blanket, feeling wronged. “Why are you acting like this.”
“Like what?” Li Zhu countered with uneven breath, planting kisses along the soft pink crook of the boy’s elbow.
Ran Muqiu felt the protagonist shou’s brain was completely fried. But hearing him speak in a coaxing tone rather than forcing his way through like the protagonist gong, he sniffled and tried to reason with him in a small voice:
“What even are we to each other? Why are you suddenly kissing me again? You always do this.”
“Why can’t I?” For someone with a 39.5°C fever, his mind sounded eerily sharp as he muttered, “In the past, I kissed you every day.”
Ran Muqiu: “?”
Choking on his words, Ran Muqiu’s voice grew even smaller. “B-but didn’t we make things clear? The arrangement is off, and I didn’t give you permission to kiss me.”
The person over him didn’t seem to appreciate those words. He nipped lightly at the slender, snow-white nape of the boy’s neck in annoyance, before trailing his kisses downward along the delicate ridge of his spine.
The bite wasn’t heavy—in fact, it bordered on tender—yet it was impossible to resist.
Nipped until it tickled and ached at the same time, Ran Muqiu’s eyes brimmed with tears, rendering him unable to whimper any more complaints.
Yet Li Zhu’s current state was clearly far beyond what mere kissing could pacify. The high fever made him more restless than usual, and that prominent physical reaction soon became impossible to ignore.
After a few more fleeting kisses, he reached down to grip the boy’s waistband, tugging it downward with rough impatience.
A chill hit his lower back.
The scalding palm pressed directly against the smooth, delicate warmth of bare skin. Feeling his head on the verge of exploding, Ran Muqiu buried his face in the quilt, sobbing out small whimpers while desperately screaming for the system in his head.
Only after the system helplessly reiterated for the nth time that fantasy items were strictly banned in realistic sub-worlds did Ran Muqiu finally resign himself to tearfully facing reality.
W-what was he supposed to do? Was he really about to be taken in this world?
Just at that moment, the breathing behind him halted abruptly.
Immediately afterward, the grip on his waist tightened sharply.
Even though he was gripping a soft, fleshy area that wasn’t as sensitive to pain as other spots, the sudden surge in force was enough to make it hurt, drawing a tiny gasp from Ran Muqiu’s lips.
The person behind him froze completely.
Nothing remained except increasingly ragged, heavy breathing. The surrounding air seemed to solidify into ice.
Panic seized Ran Muqiu.
‘W-what happened?’
He had always been a coward; even a slightly harsh scolding from a character in a sub-world was enough to make him stammer. Now, sensing the heavy shift in the atmosphere, he became even more terrified.
Ran Muqiu didn’t dare look back, terrified of seeing something that would scar his eyes. Tucking his head away like an ostrich, he frantically turned to the system for help.
‘System, hurry up and look—w-what is he doing?’
233 described the scene in an objective, clinical monotone: 【The protagonist shou is inspecting the dark purple pinch marks, bite marks, and friction bruises left by the protagonist gong across the host’s waist, arms, inner thighs, and neck.】
Ran Muqiu: ‘???’
Did you really have to be that detailed?
A frantic blush rushed up Ran Muqiu’s ears. Just as he was about to shift his body, Li Zhu’s voice froze him in place.
“Xiao Qiu.”
It was Li Zhu calling him.
This wasn’t the first time Li Zhu had used his nickname; the last time had been at Twilight, through a thin door panel while calling for him from the outside. Hearing those two syllables now still sent a faint daze through Ran Muqiu’s mind.
Only this time, the tone in which he called him “Xiao Qiu” was entirely different from before.
While murmuring Ran Muqiu’s nickname, the boy used his calloused thumb to knead the soft flesh with measured pressure, asking softly, “What are these?”
Across the smooth, jade-pale skin, exposed without barrier, lay countless finger marks.
Mottled in hues of bluish-purple, they weren’t particularly deep—clearly the result of someone exercising restraint. But against Ran Muqiu’s porcelain skin, the contrast was glaringly stark, almost terrifying.
Worse, the locations of these marks easily conjured vivid, undeniable images of the positions and circumstances under which another person had left them behind.
Ran Muqiu’s brain went entirely numb.
If he claimed he fell off his bike, would Li Zhu buy it?
Before he could invent an excuse, however, Li Zhu answered the question for him.
“Feng Qin, isn’t it?” Li Zhu said. “What did you say earlier? Ending the arrangement. So, he’s the reason?”
“I begged you just to let me kiss you, and you refused.” His voice dropped low as his thin lips parted. His tone was deceptively gentle, yet the words themselves carried a bone-chilling frost. “So how could you let him?”
Ran Muqiu felt Li Zhu’s words were a tangled mess that made no sense at all. He desperately wanted to argue back, yet he could only lie there in a daze, curled into a ball, his mind utterly blank.
And not for any other reason than what was happening right at this second.
【Target [Li Zhuo] Heartbreak Value +3!】
【Target [Li Zhuo] Heartbreak Value +3!】
【Target [Li Zhuo] Heartbreak Value +3!】
The calm mechanical voice seemed to have lost its mind, firing continuous alerts into Ran Muqiu’s head, making his eardrums ring with the racket.
233: 【Please note: Target [Li Zhuo] Heartbreak Value has reached 99!】
233: 【Host, congratulations, your mission is nearly complete. However, I must remind you: in the Scumbag Gong mission series, when a target’s Heartbreak Value exceeds 95, there is a chance of triggering [Berserk Mode]. Please take necessary precautions.】
233: 【The system will monitor closely. Should any threat to the host’s physical safety be detected, an emergency intervention and forced extraction will initiate immediately.】