“Fo Chong, is that you outside?”
This was the first time Liao Ran had called his name since returning.
Fo Chong was both pleasantly surprised and somewhat afraid to respond, terrified that it was just a delusion of his own.
His hands were shaking when he pushed open the door.
Liao Ran sat up, his first action being to lower his head and pull his clothes neat.
Fo Chong noticed the hickey on his collarbone, light pink clusters that had not yet completely faded. Unable to bear the sight in his heart, he closed his eyes, and when he reopened them, his eyes were bloodshot.
“Does it hurt?”
Liao Ran assumed he was asking about his current physical sensation. He only felt tired, which did not even hurt as much as his injured arm. Furthermore, he did not want the person beside him to worry, so he shook his head.
“I am asking, in Quzhou Island, did Bai Ji ever hurt you?”
Upon hearing that name, a pang shot through Liao Ran’s heart, and his expression grew slightly stiff.
“It is all in the past. I do not want to talk about it anymore.”
“Fine, you are right, we will only talk about us.” This was also what Fo Chong had been hoping for. “When did you remember me?”
“I dreamed of you just now.” Liao Ran could feel that those were not just dreams. His past experiences and memories were slowly returning to his mind.
Fo Chong cupped his chin in anticipation. “Then what did I do in your dream?”
“On the day of high school graduation, in the auditorium after the crowd had dispersed, after the lights went out, what did you say to me?”
Fo Chong nodded, picking up his words. “Do not be afraid of parting. In the future, no matter which path you take, whenever you feel tired, just turn around, and I will be right behind you.”
He remembered that after saying those words, because of the dim lighting, he could not see Liao Ran’s expression. But at this moment, Fo Chong knew.
The corners of Liao Ran’s eyes were slightly red, and the tears welling up transformed into pearls that dropped, melting into frost and snow amid the sorrow, making anyone who saw them feel nothing but heartache.
During this past week, Liao Ran’s daily routine consisted of drawing blood, undergoing tests, watching cold instruments enter his body to extract tissue samples while also draining the warmth from his heart. He had to face the mottled blanks of his past memories, endure endless physiological torment, and remain constantly vigilant against the fear of death descending at any moment. Though he said nothing, he was already exhausted in both body and mind.
“Fo Chong, I am scared.”
Before him was a Liao Ran he had never seen before, so fragile, needing someone to support and cherish him. This was not how he was supposed to be. Liao Ran should always be the person on the peak of an iceberg, his soles untainted by worldly trials and tribulations. He was a cold and aloof god, needing no universal love, standing in solitary, sacred nobility to receive his believers’ blind adoration and devout love.
Yet now, his god had fallen from the clouds, defiled by a maggot beneath Bai Ji’s dark moss, which was unforgivable.
After tests confirmed that the microorganisms in Liao Ran’s body were non-infectious, he was transferred to a general ward.
From time to time, patients, family members, or young doctors and nurses would pause, curiously crowding together to catch a glimpse of the true face of the forensic doctor known as Arctic.
The whispers outside the door gradually quieted down as night fell.
However, for Liao Ran, the torment was only just beginning.
An inexplicable fire ignited from his lower abdomen, baking the blood dry throughout his entire body. His breathing grew labored. The prepared oxygen tank, once sucked dry, slipped from his hand and rolled across the tiled surface, making a faint scratching sound.
It was intercepted by a foot, and the room plunged into silence, broken only by Liao Ran’s labored breathing.
Unwilling to let anyone see his wretched state, he clutched himself tightly, curling into a ball and hiding under the quilt, his mouth open like a fish washed ashore by the tide.
Yet the quilt, the only thing that could bring him a shred of safety, was suddenly yanked back, and a palm completely blocked his vision.
A soft tongue carrying the sweetness of a mountain spring poured into Liao Ran’s parched and hollow mouth. He instinctively tilted his chin upward to help the other person reach deeper. The passionate kiss was as smooth and natural as the convergence of yin and yang.
Liao Ran raised both arms, arched his waist to hug the man’s neck, and pulled him down so that his shadow enveloped him.
An arm in the darkness wrapped around Liao Ran’s waist, lifting him into a steady sitting position. Their sternums collided, rubbing against each other to quell the itch.
Still not enough. The man withdrew his hand from Liao Ran’s eyes, pulled apart his collar, and half-stripped the loose hospital gown down to his shoulders.
Licking and biting, deeper red plum blossoms quickly bloomed on half of his skin, covering the previous traces.
“It feels good, I like this.” Liao Ran closed his eyes tightly, physically enjoying the overwhelming pleasure while his mind was tortured. He knew who this person was, but refused to face it, so he purposely uttered words harsh enough to hurt the other person, serving as a disguised reminder to himself.
“Fo Chong.”
The man’s hand paused, and a cold sigh brushed against his ear. “Heh. Look closely, I am not him.” Suddenly growing urgent, he groped and roamed roughly over his body. “Do you think that Fo Chong can still touch you? This hand, this arm, these lips, and right here.” The man violently pulled his pajama pants down to his ankles.
Liao Ran opened his eyes in a panic, meeting those familiar, stern brows. They carried traces of blood yet possessed a fatal attraction. A large quantity of gu-insects transformed into black mist, enveloping them. Within this private, extradimensional space, it seemed as though only the two of them remained in the world, hazily returning to that bedroom in Quzhou Island.
“Bai Ji, I hate you.”
Liao Ran threw a weak punch, which was caught by Bai Ji.
“I know.”
“I wish I could rip open your stomach and pull out your blackened heart, liver, spleen, lungs, and kidneys.”
Bai Ji kissed the back of his hand. “I am willing. After I die, my body is yours to dispose of.”
Liao Ran did not know how to curse, having already exhausted every harsh phrase he could think of for anger. With round eyes glaring, he had nowhere to vent his fury.
Watching him pushed to his limits only piqued Bai Ji’s interest further. “Since you have finished venting your anger, it is my turn.”
Liao Ran blocked below. “This is a hospital.”
Bai Ji felt a brief wave of nostalgia for the blank-slate Liao Ran who existed after the second gu-poisoning, as he had been so much more obedient. “Then let us go, we are going home.”
Seeing him pull his pants back on, Bai Ji waved a hand, and the black mist dissipated, seeping back into his skin.
Liao Ran adjusted his hospital gown, the collar gaping wide.
“I will do it.” Bai Ji still viewed him as someone incapable of taking care of himself in daily life, swatting Liao Ran’s hand away and bending down to help him button it up.
Liao Ran’s words of refusal sat right on the tip of his tongue. He dropped his hands and gripped a corner of the quilt, feeling inexplicably nervous.
Bai Ji placed the shoes at his feet, but Liao Ran did not move.
“Like a princess.” Complaining as he went, Bai Ji bent down, grasped his ankle, but was shaken off by Liao Ran.
“I am not going with you.”
Bai Ji stood up and put his hands on his hips. “Where is your brain?”
Faced with such stern severity, the fire of anger in Liao Ran’s heart burned even brighter, so he simply hugged his knees and sat back down on the bed. “You are the one without a brain.”
Holding one of his shoes, Bai Ji did not know whether to put it down, so he just kept holding it. “Are you not already smart again? Why do you not understand? By my side, you will not need to do all these scans and blood tests, and at night the gu-insects will not crawl out and keep you from sleeping well.”
Before, when Liao Ran’s intellect was impaired, Bai Ji had spoken to him in gentle, coaxing tones like a child. But from his sharp gaze, Bai Ji could tell that Liao Ran had recovered most of his memories, meaning he was the mature version of himself. Subconsciously, Bai Ji wanted to display strength, unwilling to appear weak. It was a man’s competitive pride at play.
In return, he received only Liao Ran’s cold face. “This is my problem, and I will solve it. I will not trouble you.”
Toying with his shoe and no longer in a rush, Bai Ji leaned back directly against his spine. “Who was the person kissing me just now?” he asked knowingly. “I looked at you, and wondered if you had a twin brother. He is much easier to talk to than you.”
“It certainly was not me.” Liao Ran made a move to pull the quilt up. “Please leave, I want to sleep.”
Bai Ji shrugged his shoulders, catching the person about to lie down in his arms, and whispered in his ear, “Call it my fault, forgive me this once, okay? Actually, the number of gu-insects I can control is limited. A portion of them are inside your body, and being separated for too long also damages my health. It is not that I want you to rely on me; it is that I cannot live without you.”
This could be said to be Bai Ji’s fatal secret, equivalent to handing over his trump card.
The other day, when Liao Ran had visited Director Ma’s mother and son and stayed away for a long time, upon returning he had found Bai Ji’s gu-insects out of control and losing consciousness. Perhaps everything had a traceable pattern.
Liao Ran pushed him away, took back his shoe from his hand, and after putting on one of them, hesitated for a moment. “Have you ever planted gu-insects in anyone else?”
This was a dangerous person, and Liao Ran had to ensure he posed no risk of harming others.
“Gone, only you. And I can guarantee I will never use this method against anyone again.” Bai Ji half-heartedly raised two fingers to swear an oath.
What he said was not entirely true.
Nor was Liao Ran naive enough to believe it. Wanting to find a way to completely suppress the gu-insects, lurking by Bai Ji’s side was also a superior strategy.
This was a plan he and Fo Chong had drawn up.
On the corridor’s surveillance screen, two figures were seen walking down the stairs one after the other.
“They came out. It is really strange, how on earth did that Bai Ji get in?” Ma Zhao had watched for a day and rubbed his eyes. “Master, come take a look quickly.”
Fo Chong was vehemently opposed to Liao Ran approaching this person again, but ultimately, he did not want to lose everything currently in his hands. Moreover, he could not imagine facing a Liao Ran who knew the truth.
There was another even more hidden and unspeakable reason: Bai Ji had actually survived the Tomb of Ten Thousand Gu and, through some method, had domesticated the gu-insects, controlling the minds of specific individuals. If he could crack this method, would it mean he could freely control Liao Ran, possess him, and even melt him into his own bones and blood? Thinking of this, Fo Chong felt a secret thrill that sent goosebumps spreading across his entire body.
Late at night, the roar of a car engine was exceptionally loud. After driving for a distance, Liao Ran realized this was not the road leading to the Xixi Academy of Sciences.
“Are we not going to your place?”
Bai Ji scanned the rearview mirror between them. The mirror surface frosted over with a layer of black mist, which then emitted a bright light and played back video footage.
It was surveillance footage from the hospital corridor, capturing precisely the segment where the two of them walked out. Suddenly, the footage shifted. Ma Zhao’s face appeared, and the person standing behind him was no stranger.
“You already knew this was a trap set by Fo Chong and me. Why did you still come?” Liao Ran had not expected that his gu-insects could even pre-deploy and render images.
It was his oversight. Since the gu-insects could consume his memories, they could naturally spit them out as well.
“Wanting to hook me was naturally not going to be that easy, but your bait had a bit of appeal. Once I bite down, I am not going to easily return it to him.”
Liao Ran turned his head to look at the night scenery outside the window and muttered to himself.
“What an old fox.”
Knowing he was complaining about himself, Bai Ji did not get angry. “Understand your husband me more, I guarantee surprises everywhere.”
Since things had come to this, he would take them as they came. Liao Ran closed his eyes. For the first time in so many days, he fell into a deep sleep as night descended.