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Bonus chapter! Thank you to --- for the donation! ^^
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Miao Linyuan and the others had joined forces, yet they still failed to kill Miao Li—they hadn’t even managed to wound him much. For Miao Ciyu to do it alone would be even harder.
The disparity in this fight was so great that there wasn’t even a sliver of hope for victory. They couldn’t even destroy Miao Li’s corpse before he got to it.
Clutching his chest, Miao Ciyu staggered through the forest. Something had pierced straight through his heart, leaving a gaping hole barely visible through the blood soaking his clothes. Drops of red trailed behind him, staining the ground.
The blood stretched in a winding path, as if marking the direction of his escape.
But no one would come after him now.
Symbiosis with a gu worm didn’t make one immortal. If the gu inside died, or if the host suffered a fatal wound, death would still come.
His heart was shattered beyond repair. There was no doubt—he would die.
Blood loss left Miao Ciyu weak and drained. His legs gave out, and he stumbled forward, barely catching himself on his knees. A mouthful of blood spilled from his lips.
An ordinary person would have died instantly from such a wound, but Miao Ciyu had clung to life until now.
He didn’t know why he was still holding on. He didn’t know where he was trying to go.
Maybe it was just unwillingness.
He was going to die.
As if all strength had been sucked from his body, Miao Ciyu felt his life slipping away. The realization settled in his mind with cold clarity.
Gathering his last ounce of strength, he struggled to prop himself up, leaning back against a thick tree trunk.
The ground beneath him was completely stained with blood, a gruesome sight—yet not a single gu worm came near.
The blood of those bound to gu worms was no longer human blood. It was just the same color.
Miao Ciyu tilted his head back, gazing at the sky. His dark pupils reflected the swaying leaves above, trembling in his vision like an illusion.
It was like a dream.
Only a few days had passed, yet they felt longer than his entire life—as if he had only existed for those few days.
And only in those days had he truly felt alive.
But now, the dream was ending.
His vision blurred, the reflection of the leaves above scattering. Or perhaps what he saw wasn’t leaves at all, but the silhouette of a striking figure.
That figure drew closer, so near it almost felt like they were bending down to kiss him. A faint, elusive fragrance of orchids drifted into his senses.
Just like in the countless dreams he’d had before.
Miao Ciyu froze for a moment, then quickly realized this was no illusion. The faint glimmer of ferocity and malice flashed in his nearly unfocused eyes, and with a surge of inexplicable strength, he viciously clenched the man’s collar—as if determined to drag him to hell.
Sure enough, this was no hallucination. The man stood before him, real and tangible.
Ruan Qing was caught off guard by the sudden pull and stumbled into Miao Ciyu’s arms. In the next second, a bloodstained hand closed around his slender neck.
The grip tightened.
Miao Ciyu’s face was dark with rage, as though even in death, he would drag Ruan Qing down with him.
Just as he had once vowed.
Ruan Qing didn’t struggle. Even as the hand around his throat squeezed to the point of suffocation, he simply gazed at Miao Ciyu with quiet calm—as if he were willing to die with him.
He could have stayed away. But he had given the jade pendant to the other players and come back anyway.
A breeze drifted in from somewhere, stirring Ruan Qing’s disheveled hair but failing to dispel the thick scent of blood in the air.
Nauseating, cloying, reeking of decay.
Yet within that rot lingered a trace of orchid fragrance—pure enough to cleanse all filth and sin, enough to make a heart lose all control.
Miao Ciyu’s lips curled in a sneer, though whether he was mocking himself or Ruan Qing was unclear. His grip loosened slightly, his hand falling limp.
He was utterly defeated. Even in death, he couldn’t bring himself to harm this man.
In this prison called love, the only captive had ever been him.
…Fine.
Miao Ciyu slowly closed his eyes, letting go of all strength, surrendering to the encroaching darkness.
Then—a soft warmth pressed against his lips.
His eyes flew open in shock, pupils contracting as he took in the face so close to his own.
…Was he kissing him?
In this prison called love, it seemed… he wasn’t the only captive after all.
Miao Ciyu had long been drained of strength, yet now, some of it returned. His heart, too, seemed to stir back to life—even as blood flowed freely from his chest.
However, Miao Ciyu didn’t feel pain—instead, a rush of excitement coursed through his body. He tilted his head slightly, opening his mouth as if to meet Ruan Qing’s kiss.
As if inviting him to go even further.
But Ruan Qing didn’t kiss him with wanton desire. Kneeling between Miao Ciyu’s legs, one hand tugging gently at the front of Miao’s shirt, he kissed him softly, with lingering tenderness—devoid of any lust.
The wind swept by again, and for a moment, time seemed to freeze. In that instant, the entire world felt like it consisted of just the two of them.
It was a picture of beauty and romance—yet Miao Ciyu felt dissatisfied. He yanked hard at Ruan Qing’s collar, trying to pull him in for a kiss in return.
But the next second, Ruan Qing pulled away.
Miao Ciyu was left kissing empty air, and because of the force he’d used, blood once again gushed from the wound on his chest.
Ruan Qing’s lips were also stained with blood. The sticky, wet sensation made him uncomfortable. He instinctively stuck out his tongue to lick it off, but apparently found it too dirty and instead wiped it gently with his thumb.
It was a completely ordinary gesture—yet when Ruan Qing did it, it looked seductively provocative. Every movement seemed designed to entice.
Miao Ciyu had blood smeared across his lips, and now so did Ruan Qing. His soft wipe didn’t clean it—it only spread it further.
Bright red streaks marked Ruan Qing’s pale skin, giving him a fragile, shattered aura that made him look heartbreakingly beautiful—like a flower in glorious decay.
So stunning, it defied belief.
But the words that left his mouth next were cold—merciless, even.
“You’re going to die.”
Ruan Qing lowered his gaze, looking down at Miao Ciyu from above. “After you die, I’ll be with Miao Li.”
His tone was utterly calm, as if he were simply stating a fact.
And that fact made Miao Ciyu’s eyes darken viciously. His entire body radiated a suffocating intensity, and he couldn’t stop himself from coughing up blood.
Ruan Qing, unmoved, continued in the same level voice. “I’ll sit in his lap and kiss him.”
“We’ll do the things you and I did. And the things you and I never got to do.”
Miao Ciyu’s gaze turned savage, like a beast. He glared at Ruan Qing with the ferocity of something ready to devour him, and with all the strength he had left, he spat out two words—ruthless, venomous, and full of bloodlust.
“Miao—”
“Qing!”
Miao Ciyu should have died long ago—it was a miracle he lasted this long. After uttering those two words, it was as if he had exhausted every last bit of his vitality, and his breath simply… ceased.
Miao Ciyu was dead.
Killed by Ruan Qing.
The moment Miao Ciyu died, a talisman pasted on his back suddenly lit up, and the surrounding air seemed to drop by more than ten degrees.
It was as if summer had instantly turned to winter, sending an uncontrollable chill down one’s spine.
This was no illusion—an eerie, bone-deep coldness rose from Miao Ciyu’s corpse, then coiled around Ruan Qing.
That sinister presence clung to him like a shadow, like a festering curse, making every cell in his body scream at him to run.
The talisman had been placed by Ruan Qing—back when he kissed Miao Ciyu.
It was a talisman he had found under the original host’s mother’s bed, one used to nurture ghosts.
When a person dies consumed by fury, hatred, or unresolved obsession, under the right conditions… they can easily become a vengeful ghost.
And Ruan Qing had done this on purpose.
Pasting the talisman, provoking Miao Ciyu to death, even kissing him—all of it.
Losing what you thought you had just obtained… that was the easiest way to breed resentment.
And the proof of his success was right here.
Yet even though Ruan Qing had mentally prepared himself, the moment he felt that unnatural coldness, he still wanted to recoil in fear.
He clenched his fists, forcing himself to stay rooted in place.
"Sitting in his lap… kissing him?"
No one was visible in the darkness, but a voice, dripping with malice, whispered directly into Ruan Qing’s ear. A freezing breath brushed his earlobe, so cold it made him shiver.
The voice seethed with suppressed rage—like the murmur of a demon, as if it could drag him straight to hell in the next second.
Ruan Qing’s face paled, but he tried to steady himself.
"Miao Ciyu, let me explain— Mmph—!"
