Song Yang used a small knife to slice through the tape and pulled a small white box from the package. After opening it, he froze for a few seconds.
Lying in the box was a silver object shaped like deer antlers. Thin chains connected to a metallic semi-arc on both sides, with a fang-shaped hook in the center.
Song Yang fiddled with it in his hand for a while. He could not understand what it was and, filled with confusion, pulled out his phone to message Lis.
Song: Teacher, what is this thing?
The other party sent a diagram. It showed the object being worn on the lower half of the face: the curved metal antlers hugged the jaw, the hook latched onto the lower lip, and the rings on the side chains connected to secure the entire ornament to the face.
Lis: This is a muzzle.
Song Yang: ?
His brain stopped functioning, his nerves suddenly tightened, and an ominous premonition washed over him.
Lis: Put it on and take a picture for me to see.
He swallowed, and typed with trembling fingers:
Song: I have to wear it?
Lis: Otherwise?
Song Yang’s hand suddenly lost strength, and the muzzle fell. The sharp metal tip happened to prick his instep, causing him to yelp in pain.
He hopped on one foot, holding his foot, his gaze instantly turning somber. He thought to himself that this person always came up with such strange ideas; his tastes were truly vulgar.
He viciously kicked the muzzle on the floor farther away.
Song: Teacher, I have a rather scruffy appearance. Wearing this dog collar is like being tied up like a pig. It probably will not look good. Let us just forget it.
Lis: I picked it out especially for you. It suits you very well.
Song Yang gritted his teeth, his attitude turning firm.
Song: Not wearing it.
Lis: Why?
Song: Don’t like it!
Lis: But I like it. Am I not your patron? Can you not satisfy me?
Song: Just because you spent a little money on gifts, I have to obey your every whim? Are you kidding me? I have principles, okay? Do not try to guilt-trip me.
Lis: Yangyang, saying that makes me quite heartbroken.
Song Yang was like a lit bomb; his temper erupted rapidly like a rising flame. He pressed the voice message button and yelled at the screen: “A muzzle, huh? I, Song Yang, am a mad dog that cannot be tamed. This thing is useless on me. Let us see if you put it on me first or if I bite your head off first! Your kinks are so unique, I will just mail it back so you can use it yourself. Otherwise, I am throwing it away. You decide, damn it!”
After his cathartic outburst, Song Yang felt refreshed.
However, twenty minutes had passed since he sent the voice message, and Lis had not responded. He stared at the silent chat interface, a lump forming in his throat as he realized he might have been too harsh.
Lis must be angry, or perhaps he was secretly sad. He had only made a small request, yet he had been scolded to the point where he did not even dare to reply.
A wave of guilt surged in Song Yang’s heart. He looked up at the metal muzzle on the floor, his throat tightening, and a cold sweat broke out on his back.
A voice seemed to echo in his mind: Just wear it and take a photo; it will not kill you. He drew pictures for you and spent money on you, yet you returned it with verbal abuse. Song Yang, oh Song Yang, you are heartless!
Song Yang knocked himself on the head and finally compromised. He walked over, picked up the muzzle, studied how to undo it, and put it on his chin. The cold metal surface touched his skin. He opened his mouth, bit onto the hook, and fastened the metal clasp.
He went to the bathroom mirror and admired himself. He was surprised to find it actually looked cool, possessing a bit of a cyberpunk aesthetic.
The metal surface fit his skin seamlessly, and any movement of his lips would be tugged painfully by the hook.
Actually, this thing really did have the effect of preventing one from biting. Song Yang reasonably suspected that Lis was implying something—that he found him too noisy and wanted him to shut up.
Ji Ting’s phone, resting on his desk, chimed. He picked it up and saw that Song Yang had sent several photos along with a voice message.
Ji Ting’s eyelashes trembled, and he immediately tapped to view the full image.
The photo only showed his lower face. His jaw was slim and angular, with faintly visible blue veins. The silver metal wrapped around his chin, outlining a sharp silhouette.
His lips were glistening, and the small hook gently pressed against his lower lip. The fair skin was chafed by the metal, turning a thin shade of red, like petals of pink cherry blossoms rubbed into the skin.
Ji Ting’s gaze turned dark. Immediately, indescribable images flashed through his mind. A subtle, indefinable smile curled at the corner of his lips, and he tapped to save the photo.
He clicked on the voice message, and Song Yang’s voice exploded through his earphones: “Does my chin look good? You satisfied now? Do you want me to record a 360-degree video for you?”
The mental fantasy was instantly shattered by the voice message, pulling him back to reality. Ji Ting sighed, closed his eyes, took off his earphones, and rubbed his ears, which were aching from the volume.
Lis: Keep it and do not throw it away. I will let you wear it again if there is a chance.
Little Dynamite: Do not you ever get tired of this!
Little Dynamite unsent a message.
Little Dynamite: Yes, yes, I am ready for you anytime, Brother Lis. /smile
Since his first livestream was a successful first battle, Song Yang began to worry about the content for his next one. He did not know what the audience loved to watch or how to attract fans. He could not rely on Lis spending money or making up stories every time.
In the past, there was that lousy company. Although they lacked the ability to cultivate talent, they had planned his content clearly. Now that he was out on his own, he had to make every decision himself.
He sat alone in the cafeteria, poking at his rice with chopsticks, feeling conflicted.
“Hi Song Yang, what a coincidence.”
Song Yang looked up and saw Bai Mo walking toward him, carrying a food tray.
“Miss?”
Bai Mo set her tray down, sat opposite him, and asked casually, “How come I do not see the pink-haired boy who is always with you?”
Song Yang said, “You mean Tao Ziyi? He went to a class committee meeting after class. By the way, was my method effective? That simp did not harass you again, did he?”
“I was just about to tell you. He has not come to find me again. He was probably scared stiff; he will likely have a shadow over him for the rest of his life. I really have to thank you. Let me treat you to a meal this weekend.”
At the other end of the cafeteria, the Student Union Standing Committee and the heads of departments had just finished their work meeting and stopped by the cafeteria for a meal together.
“Is that not Song Yang?” He Jiamiao had just returned to the table after ordering her meal and noticed the familiar figure in the distance. “And Bai Mo from our department.”
Ji Ting lifted his eyelids and looked over. He saw Song Yang sitting by the window, his expression even brighter than the sunlight outside. Opposite him was a pretty, long-haired girl, and the two were chatting and laughing merrily.
“Bai Mo?” Ji Ting withdrew his gaze and repeated her name, his tone very flat.
He Jiamiao said, “This girl is in our planning group. She is quite good. I heard her family is very wealthy, but she has no airs at all. She is very proactive and does her work brilliantly.”
“Keep an eye on her for the next term’s department head selection,” Ji Ting said.
“Alright.” Seeing her chatting happily with Song Yang, He Jiamiao remarked casually, “Song Yang and she seem quite close.”
Ji Ting paused with his chopsticks, his eyes darkening. “You should keep an eye on that, too. No dating within the student union.”
With that said, he set down his chopsticks, picked up his tray, and walked away. He left He Jiamiao sitting there, confused, and she even nudged the Minister of the Publicity Department sitting next to her. “Does our student union have such a rule?”
The person shook his head. “I do not know. The president must have tailor-made that for Song Yang.”
He Jiamiao sighed with pity, “It seems the president really does not like Song Yang, even wanting to snuff out his little romances.”
“Poor guy.”
After the evening class, the class held a group activity, so it was already quite late when Song Yang left the classroom.
He planned to arrange his second livestream that night. Seeing that the time was getting close, he did not linger and walked quickly out of the teaching building.
He had his school bag slung over one shoulder. Just as he stepped out of the building, a tall and imposing figure suddenly blocked his path.
Song Yang paused. Subconsciously, he looked up and saw the menacing face of the buzz-cut man with the tattoo. The man had a cigarette dangling from his mouth, and he was followed by a few others—clearly there to pick a fight.
“It is you, right?”
His heart tightened. His instinct was to turn and run, but he remembered he had worn a mask that day. He stiffened his neck and denied it. “Who are you? You have the wrong person.”
To his surprise, the buzz-cut man tilted his head, eyes glaring fiercely, and stepped toward Song Yang. He cracked his knuckles loudly. “Cut the crap. You are Song Yang. You were the one who used dark magic on me that day.”
Terrified, Song Yang took a few steps back. Without thinking, he swung his school bag at the buzz-cut man’s face. “Screw you!”
“Ah!” The man yelled in pain. Seeing that Song Yang had already vanished, he stomped on the school bag on the ground and shouted angrily, “Damn it! Chase him!”
Song Yang fled in a panic, trying to shake them off. He made several turns blindly and ran into a remote corner he did not recognize.
Just as he was about to call for help, he felt his pocket and found it empty. Where was his phone?
Damn it, it is in the school bag!
He heard the sounds of pursuit getting closer and closer behind him, and he lost his composure.
“Help! Help!”
He shouted as he ran, but the area was vast and empty. No one was around; the only response was the roar of the buzz-cut man: “No one is going to save you even if you scream your throat out!”
Song Yang was running out of energy. He looked up and saw a teaching building. He quickly recognized it as the Ninth Building; he had been there before to deliver documents to the “King of Force.”
The building was pitch black, except for a window on the third floor that was still lit. Song Yang squinted and looked over it was the painting studio of the “King of Force!”