When Liao Ran returned home, the living room was filled with the cozy atmosphere of everyday life.
Several dishes sat on the dining table, covered tightly to keep the heat from escaping.
Bai Ji was wearing only a pair of black dress trousers, his bare upper body highlighting lean, well-defined muscles carved with sharp lines. His forearm, holding a clothesline pole, had veins as thick and strong as vines as he hung up freshly washed pajamas on the balcony.
“You’re finally back. I was getting so hungry waiting.”
Bai Ji took the briefcase and the documents from his hand.
On the cover, under the investigation target column, his own name was clearly written.
Bai Ji acted as though he hadn’t seen it, placing the file on a nearby shelf.
As he supported Liao Ran’s shoulders and helped him sit down, he caught the scent of food on Liao Ran. “Have you eaten already? It’s fine, just keep me company while I eat a little more.”
His parents had died in an accident when he was very young. Bai Ji had no memory of them at all, and eating alone meant nothing to him, but ever since living with Liao Ran on Quzhou Island for those few months, he had grown unaccustomed to it. Over the past few days since returning, he had made a habit of setting an extra pair of chopsticks and a bowl at the table. Previously it was for his younger brother, and now it was for Liao Ran.
The dishes before him were indeed all of Liao Ran’s favorites. Back then, when Liao Ran’s mind was incomplete and he didn’t know how to hide anything, his tastes and needs had been thoroughly figured out by Bai Ji.
Some of those preferences were things even Liao Ran himself hadn’t known.
Companionship acted like a seasoning, and Bai Ji ate an extra bowl of rice before finally putting down his chopsticks.
Liao Ran stood up to clean up the tableware.
A flash of surprise crossed Bai Ji’s eyes, and he followed closely behind him for every dirty plate that was carried away.
Several times, Liao Ran turned around and bumped right into his chest muscles. “If you don’t have anything to do, go put on a shirt.”
Bai Ji smoothed down the stray hairs on Liao Ran’s forehead, tucking the strands behind his ear. “You’re on your own. Will you be okay?”
“It’s just washing dishes, what’s so hard about it? Go away.” Liao Ran pressed his hands against Bai Ji’s washboard-like abdomen, pushing him back.
Bai Ji took the shortest possible time to fish a white shirt out of the wardrobe and slip it on.
When he returned to the kitchen, the water in the sink had overflowed, mixing with vegetable scraps and food residue as it flowed onto the floor. Liao Ran’s front was soaked through in a large patch, his arms were covered in foam, and his eyebrows were tightly furrowed as he rubbed his eyes in pain, tears streaming uncontrollably. Scattered around his feet were the shattered remnants of plates and bowls, freshly minted ceramic shards.
The calm, elegant, and dapper forensic pathologist known as Polaris in public was actually an amateur when it came to daily life. He was clueless about household chores and, most of the time, couldn’t even tell sugar and salt apart.
Bai Ji hurried forward, turned off the faucet tightly, scooped Liao Ran up by his legs, and carried him away from the disaster zone.
Sudden imbalance caused Liao Ran to pat Bai Ji’s back, wanting to say something to stop him, but his eyes stung with a burning pain and he couldn’t care less.
Bai Ji gently placed him on the sofa, crouched in front of him, and used a tissue to wipe his face. “You’re all wet. If wearing those is uncomfortable, change into another pair.”
As he spoke, he reached out to untie Liao Ran’s belt, but Liao Ran quickly slapped his wrist away.
Bai Ji had no choice but to thoughtfully roll up his wet trouser cuffs, support Liao Ran’s ear to lean in for a closer inspection, his eyes still bloodshot. “Do your eyes still hurt?”
Under the lighting, the bubbly moisture reflected colorful, hazy human silhouettes in Liao Ran’s vision. The man’s breath mingled with his own, and his heart felt as though it had been ambushed, beaten, and pulled in all directions, hammering so fast it felt like it was about to leap out of his throat.
“Are you using the gu worms again?” Unaccustomed to these unusual physical reactions, Liao Ran was at a loss. This was the only explanation he could think of.
Bai Ji honestly shook his head, anxiously feeling around his body. “What’s wrong? Is there somewhere else that hurts?”
Until his hand brushed against Liao Ran’s lower region, clearly feeling Liao Ran flinch.
He clamped his thighs together, losing his usual cold and rigid demeanor as his voice pitched up. “Stop touching me randomly. Only my eyes hurt.”
It sounded almost like acting spoiled, leaving Bai Ji helpless. He wiped around Liao Ran’s eyes, though a sticky residue remained.
Having no other choice, he stretched out his tongue to lick his eyelids.
As the warm softness touched him, Liao Ran tilted his head back to avoid it, but his waist was pulled in.
“Dirty,” Liao Ran muttered in protest.
Bai Ji’s fingers traced the contours of his jawline, smooth and with firm flesh. Every single feature of Liao Ran was exquisitely flawless, making it impossible for someone to keep their hands off him. “Why is it so unfair? You’re good at everything.”
At that moment, his reservoir of dark emotions breached its banks. Envy, jealousy, and an uncontrollable, reason-drowning infatuation terrified him, and an evil thought flashed through his mind. He wanted to ruin him.
He wanted to drag him into the abyss and rot together with him. Like a famished wolf, Bai Ji pounced and pinned him down.
Liao Ran sank entirely into the sofa, crushed beneath a heavy tank that left deep cart-track impressions on his skin. It wasn’t a kiss, but a bite.
No matter how much it hurt, Liao Ran didn’t make a single sound, because he noticed the man’s hands were trembling, completely devoid of rhythm, acting purely out of a blind release like a wild beast driven to a desperate corner.
When facing someone who had lost their reason, saying anything was futile, so Liao Ran reached out and stroked his head.
The hunting Bai Ji froze and halted. Before him was a patch of crimson, not the murderous intent in his eyes, but Liao Ran’s blood, pooling at his collarbone.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.” Bai Ji panicked, standing up and backing away.
Then he suddenly lunged forward, pulling Liao Ran into his arms and repeating apologies over and over again.
“Just how long are you going to keep saying sorry? The wound is just sitting there uncared for.” He was a dangerous person. Liao Ran silently graded him in his heart, yet he didn’t show a shred of panic. “Go get the first aid kit.”
“No need.” Bai Ji bit his lip, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth.
Liao Ran tried to stop his self-harming behavior.
Bai Ji moved faster, using two fingers to scoop up the blood from his mouth and smearing it onto Liao Ran’s wound.
That blood transformed into a layer of black stain that seeped into Liao Ran’s skin. After a brief wave of itching, the bite marks vanished, and the skin became smooth without even a scar.
Looking into the mirror, Liao Ran pulled back his collar to inspect closely. “If I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes, I wouldn’t believe the world had such magical things. Your gu worms can actually rebuild flesh and blood.”
There was no sound in the room. Bai Ji hung his head, leaning against the sofa as if he had fallen asleep.
Liao Ran tiptoed closer. Looking closely, the blood vessels on his cheeks appeared black, standing out sharply beneath his cold, pale skin like a web crawling toward his eyes before vanishing.
He gave his shoulder a tentative nudge, but there was still no response.
Liao Ran placed his hand beneath Bai Ji’s nose and detected a faint breath, letting out a sigh of relief. He had simply passed out.
This might be the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity he was waiting for. Liao Ran found his phone, opened his contacts, and hovered his finger above the name Fu Chong.
Just as he hesitated over whether to press it, Bai Ji suddenly lifted his head and snatched the phone right out of his hand.
Looking at the name on the screen, Bai Ji’s dark eyes gradually faded. His gu worm backlash was worsening.
“Do you have any idea? Just now, I used the gu worm to transfer your wound onto myself.” He pulled open his collar. Wielding strength more than ten times greater than his normal state, he ripped his white shirt directly into shreds.
On his neck was a deep bite mark, oozing black blood.
“I was afraid you would hurt, so I’d rather hurt myself, but you don’t seem to care about me at all.” Bai Ji’s pupils lost their focus, a cold sneer lingering at the corner of his mouth. “Liao Ran, are you even going to pretend anymore? The moment I collapse, you immediately look for another man to take my life. Am I really that bad, so no one loves me? All of you betrayed me, abandoned me, harmed me, wishing I were dead. But I’m sorry to disappoint you. Even if I die a hundred times, I will crawl back up from the abyss, and none of you are going to have an easy time.”
Threatening words, turbid eyes radiating an aura of death like a corpse. Liao Ran backed away, escaping into the bathroom and locking the door behind him.
He searched everywhere for something that could temporarily serve as self-defense.
Suddenly, the door behind him cracked open. The light from the living room streamed in, and the black mist hovering around the door handle successfully unlocked it before drifting back into its host’s body.
One of Bai Ji’s arms reached out, prying the door open.
Liao Ran’s face was as pale as wax as he leaned back against the sink, barely supporting his cotton-soft, powerless legs.
It wasn’t until Bai Ji wedged one of his legs in between that Liao Ran finally stood steady.
Like an ancient bell chiming, a deep, resonant voice sounded right above his head: “Where are you running off to? Who are you trying to find? I am right here.”
Liao Ran kept his head down, trembling all over. Under the suffocating pressure of impending death, transparent liquid streamed from his facial features, salty and muddy, though he knew it wasn’t tears, but physiological saline.
“I’m afraid of you, Bai Ji. I’m afraid.”
The gaze originally tainted with hostility froze at that moment. Bai Ji saw his own face in the mirror behind Liao Ran. Black meridian patterns spread across his entire body like a curse seal, his muddy pupils looking like a specimen pickled in academy disinfectant, devoid of any trace of living human blood.
He instinctively covered his face with his hand and punched the mirror.
The sound of shattering glass rang right beside his ears, and Liao Ran cried out unconsciously, curling his body up to hide against Bai Ji’s chest.
The person in his arms was within touching distance. Bai Ji wanted to hold him, but when he raised his arm and saw the web-like patterns, he hesitated.
Listening to his chaotic heartbeat, Liao Ran gradually calmed down. “It will disappear. It works on the same principle as livor mortis. It usually starts appearing two hours after death, but if there’s activity within six hours, the livor mortis can gradually fade. Trust me.”
“I trust you.” Bai Ji tightly hugged the only comfort he had right before his eyes.
The space was cramped, and Liao Ran was finding it a bit hard to breathe. “Let’s go out, okay?”
Gently supporting Liao Ran’s hips, Bai Ji lifted him up as if carrying an infant.
Liao Ran wrapped his arms around Bai Ji’s neck, terrified of falling.
After placing him in the bedroom, Bai Ji closed the door and walked out.
He cleaned up the mess in the kitchen. It wasn’t until late at night, after the patterns on his face had faded away, that he returned to bed, lying down with his back facing Liao Ran to sleep.
In his dreams, he saw his younger brother smiling, but that smiling face was drowned in a pool of blood. On the very same day Fu Chong returned to the academy and announced Bai Ji’s death, a teenager plummeted from the rooftop of the laboratory, extinguishing a young life right then and there.
In the dark, Liao Ran opened his eyes, observing the changes in the black patterns on Bai Ji’s body.
The last of the black patterns to vanish was right near his heart. If he guessed correctly, this spot should be where the mother worm they were looking for was located.
Find the mother worm, extract it from Bai Ji’s body, and fashion it into a pendant for Liao Ran to wear, that would effectively suppress the gu worms. Racking his brains, Fu Chong had presented this plan to the expert panel, leaving everyone gaping in astonishment.
What fate awaited Bai Ji after the mother worm was extracted remained completely unknown.
This seemingly absurd plan was quietly underway in the shadows.