‘Ruan Qing’ looked at his reflection in the mirror but found nothing unusual. Even when he blinked suddenly, the mirror showed no delay—just a plain, ordinary reflection.
It wasn’t the boy he had expected to see.
The spoon and this mirror shouldn’t be connected. When the spoon was blocked, the mirrored world would dissolve into nothingness, trapping anyone inside without the ability to move freely.
The boy couldn’t possibly be here.
‘Ruan Qing’ lowered his gaze indifferently and placed his hands under the faucet.
Water trickled down, mixing with the blood on his hands before swirling into the sink—an eerie yet strangely beautiful sight.
The wound stung faintly as the water touched it, but ‘Ruan Qing’ paid no attention, calmly rinsing away every trace of blood.
Once clean, his hands were pale as jade again, revealing only the small, self-inflicted cut.
The wound was minor—barely more than a scratch—its faint pink hue standing out against his almost translucent skin, giving it an inexplicable, almost sensual quality.
‘Ruan Qing’ half-closed his eyes, hiding his emotions, then pulled a tissue from the dispenser to dry his hands.
Just one left.
After tossing the tissue into the trash, he turned and left the room, his slender figure radiating cold detachment.
***
Ren Yanqing had no idea the others were already dead. His entire presence was charged with danger as he rushed through the building, searching room after room for the boy.
Though he doubted Ren Qing would harm the boy, the power he wielded was terrifying. Ren Yanqing had spent nearly two centuries trying to control it—how could Ren Qing have mastered it in just a few years?
Besides, the Ren Qing corrupted by that power was no longer himself… but a fragment of the so-called god.
Ren Yanqing couldn’t gamble on whether a god could feel love—or restraint.
He had to find the boy. Fast.
Mid-stride, Ren Yanqing froze. His killing intent sharpened as he locked onto a figure ahead.
‘Ruan Qing’ stood there, perfectly calm.
"Good afternoon," ‘Ruan Qing’ said casually, as if greeting an old friend.
Ren Yanqing wasn’t fooled. His voice was cold.
"What do you want?"
'Ruan Qing' tilted his head slightly upon hearing this and chuckled softly. "I already told you."
"I want you all to die."
Without giving Ren Yanqing another chance to speak, ‘Ruan Qing’ immediately struck.
Left with no choice, Ren Yanqing abandoned any attempt at communication and engaged in battle.
Out of concern for Ruan Qing’s body, ‘Ruan Qing’ suppressed his strength, drastically reducing his power and making the fight against Ren Yanqing difficult.
So, he could only fight while retreating, searching for an opportunity to kill Ren Yanqing for good.
Ren Yanqing, too, had no intention of sparing 'Ruan Qing'—not before, and certainly not now.
Besides, corrupted by that terrifying power, he was no longer himself.
The other five believed he had avoided turning into a monster by obtaining something, but that wasn’t the case.
The black mist drifting through the ancient tomb wasn’t actually mist—it was the power of a god, a force of pure horror.
The longer one stayed inside, the more they would be eroded by it.
The others were far luckier; they had escaped after just a few hours, avoiding immediate mutation from the mist’s corruption.
But not him.
The path he had chosen led to the slumbering palace of the god—the most dangerous route of all.
Even the density of the black mist was dozens of times greater than elsewhere.
For three whole days, he had struggled on the brink of death inside the tomb, already twisted into something neither human nor ghost by the mist.
Even after escaping, he lived in unending agony, unable to free himself from it.
This torment lasted two hundred years before he finally found a way to mitigate it—by severing the corrupted part of his soul and sealing it back into the Divine Ruins.
Thus, Ren Qing came into existence.
Ren Qing was him, yet wasn’t him.
From the moment he split Ren Qing away, the two were destined to be mortal enemies.
Ren Yanqing’s attacks grew increasingly vicious, their battle gradually shifting toward the rooftop until both figures emerged on the building’s summit.
Despite suppressing his power, ‘Ruan Qing’ still coughed up blood—his body simply couldn’t withstand the strain.
No longer willing to prolong the fight, he used the force of Ren Yanqing’s strike to leap backward, landing at the edge of the rooftop.
The ten buildings in the residential complex were interconnected, with corridors allowing passage between them—but their rooftops stood isolated, separated by a significant distance.
‘Ruan Qing’ had nowhere left to run.
But Ren Yanqing had no intention of letting him go. He wanted to seize this chance to force Ren Qing out of the young man’s body.
Yet ‘Ruan Qing’ made no move to escape. Instead, he flashed Ren Yanqing a radiant smile, then leaped straight off the rooftop.
The human body has its limits. The distance from the rooftop to the ground was far beyond what flesh and bone could endure.
Even if a vengeful ghost could teleport, the instant of displacement alone would shatter a mortal vessel.
In other words, the boy’s body would die once more—and this time, it might be instantly devoured by the ‘god’s’ power.
After suffering that first loss, no one could endure a second. Not even Ren Yanqing.
Ren Yanqing’s eyes widened, his pupils contracting in panic as he lunged forward to stop it—
Only for a hand to pierce straight through his heart the very next second.
The one who should have been falling now stood behind him.
Ren Yanqing stared blankly at the bloodied hand protruding from his chest, momentarily stunned.
Clearly, Ren Qing’s threat to harm the boy’s body had been a ruse. His true goal all along had been to distract him and seize the moment to strike.
…He’d lost.
With his last ounce of strength, Ren Yanqing turned his head, casting one final, seething glance at the figure behind him—before collapsing limply over the edge.
His body struck the ground with a sickening crunch.
Blood gushed forth, staining the pavement beneath him crimson in mere seconds.
Yet Ren Yanqing’s eyes remained open, fixed on the rooftop above. His glazed pupils burned with unmistakable hatred and resentment—a gaze so chilling it made the skin crawl.
The sight was grotesque. Unnerving.
‘Ruan Qing’ stood at the rooftop’s edge, staring down at the twisted corpse below. A flicker of delight passed through his eyes.
No one would ever take the boy from him again.
The boy was his now.
Humming a nameless tune, ‘Ruan Qing’ turned and skipped cheerfully toward the stairwell, leaving a trail of blood droplets in his wake as they splattered lazily onto the floor.
Minutes later, he found himself once more before the bathroom mirror.
With a twist of his wrist, he turned the faucet on.
He needed to wash the bloodstains clean and then go pick up his beloved boy.
This time, nothing would come to disturb them again.
He would be with the boy forever.
After washing the blood off his hands, 'Ruan Qing' casually glanced at the mirror—and then his gaze froze.
The boy in the mirror was exquisitely perfect, looking fragile and pitiful, devoid of any aggressiveness or danger.
Like a helpless little lamb.
But at this moment, his white shirt was covered in blood, the stains trailing from his chest down to the hem, looking both horrifying and terrifying.
There was simply too much blood on the boy’s clothes, soaking through the white fabric. Yet, rather than being repulsive, it gave him an almost fatal allure.
And a hint of... seduction.
His body was slender and delicate, yet his shirt was slightly oversized, completely hiding his figure, making him appear even smaller.
But now, with his damp shirt clinging to his thin frame, his slender waist was fully revealed—so delicate that it seemed it could be encircled with just one hand.
No matter how many times he looked, the beauty was breathtaking—so stunning that ‘Ruan Qing’ could barely restrain himself.
No one could remain indifferent when looking at the body of the one they loved.
The sky was gradually darkening, and the room remained unlit. Although the lighting was dim, after adjusting to the darkness, vision was not hindered.
‘Ruan Qing’ stared obsessively for a while, then his gaze lowered slightly, landing on his own shirt collar in the mirror.
The boy’s jade-like neck was partially hidden beneath the white shirt, buttoned all the way to the top. Only a small portion of his neck was faintly visible, the rest concealed by the fabric, evoking endless imagination.
And an irresistible urge... to tear away that obstructing shirt.
‘Ruan Qing’s’ gaze darkened, and then he began unbuttoning the shirt.
It was unclear whether he wanted to see more or simply change into a clean shirt.
As he undid the buttons, he did not lower his head. Instead, he stared straight into the mirror, as if that made the task easier.
His movements were excruciatingly slow, almost torturous.
With the first button undone, the fabric loosened and spread slightly apart—but it was not overly revealing. Only a half-exposed collarbone could be seen, delicate and enticing.
'Ruan Qing' paused for a moment, then slid his fingers down slightly and began undoing the second button of his shirt.
In the mirror, the boy’s shirt parted a little further, revealing glimpses of pale, smooth skin—this time, the faint outline of his chest was barely visible.
‘Ruan Qing’s’ hand continued downward, slender fingers settling on the third button.
The reflection in the mirror lagged strangely for a beat, as if hesitating, but the next second, it returned to normal, perfectly synced with the real-world movement.
That split-second delay would go entirely unnoticed unless… one had been staring intently at the mirror.
But 'Ruan Qing' seemed oblivious to the reflection’s oddity and kept unbuttoning his shirt.
By now, more than half the buttons were undone—not only was the pink flush of his chest visible, but so too the slender curve of his waist, pale and delicate.
Any further, and the shirt would lose all modesty.
'Ruan Qing' didn’t care. His gaze remained fixed on his reflection as he unfastened the last button.
Then his fingers drifted to his waistband, as if intending to remove his pants as well.
This time, however, the figure in the mirror froze, hand hanging stiffly at its side—unnatural, unsettling.
'Ruan Qing' showed no surprise. Staring at the motionless boy in the glass, he let out a low laugh—chilling, grotesque.
Enough to send shivers down one’s spine.
"You saw… everything, didn’t you?"
