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Bonus chapter! Thank you to Zzz for the donation! ^^
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Cheng Muyun couldn’t quite process it. The call came from 4444? How could that be?
He immediately lowered his head and began checking the phone—there were no call logs. The most recent one was from earlier that morning.
Only a 4444 Death Call would leave no trace in the call history.
His expression went blank for a moment, his mind a jumble. He didn’t know whether to be more shocked that a Death Call could come during the day, or that there had actually been someone speaking on the other end.
And… someone so utterly disgusting.
Cheng Muyun didn’t want to believe it, but no matter how many times he scrolled, there was no trace of the call.
It really was from 4444—and the voice on the other end really was that of a sleazy, lewd man.
But wait—Death Calls were only supposed to foretell how a person would die. They weren’t supposed to act like prank calls or harassment. And the man’s words... the more he thought about it, the more off they seemed.
Could it be… the way this person was destined to die was by being… f*cked to death by someone or something?
Cheng Muyun’s brow twitched at his own guess. He instinctively turned to look at the boy beside him.
The boy was looking down at the phone in Cheng Muyun’s hand, lashes long and casting delicate shadows under the light. His pale, porcelain-like face looked clean and fragile, as if even the softest touch would leave a deep mark.
Cheng Muyun’s gaze couldn’t help but fall to those lips—still faintly red and swollen, as though they’d been thoroughly played with and left overly ripe.
It was that very mouth… that had let out those sweet, trembling, breathy moans.
Even though he hadn’t actually seen what had happened to him, Cheng Muyun’s heart began to race, and his Adam’s apple bobbed involuntarily.
His blood surged—rushing toward places it shouldn’t. The overwhelming heat made his fingertips tremble.
Just imagining it was enough to make his mind spin. His body was already reacting in ways it shouldn’t.
The boy’s features were stunning, almost otherworldly. He must’ve grown up surrounded by unease and fear, probably the subject of many people’s desire and harm. His fear of things like this was only natural.
He couldn’t scare him. He couldn’t be like the others.
Cheng Muyun had to use every ounce of his willpower to suppress the lurid, twisted images in his head—but the darkness in his thoughts refused to disappear.
The Death Call’s visions had never been wrong. Whatever was shown, would happen.
If those things were destined to happen anyway—then why couldn’t he be the one?
If it were him, he’d never let the boy be killed that way. In fact… this would be saving him.
Ruan Qing had no idea what Cheng Muyun was thinking. After speaking, he picked up the topical ointment beside him without another word.
There was a mirror in the bathroom. Earlier, while showering, he had noticed numerous scrapes and bruises on his body—the most severe being the bite mark on his lip.
Whenever lost in thought or distracted, he had a habit of unconsciously pressing his lips together, which kept the wound from healing properly. Even now, it remained slightly swollen.
Ruan Qing squeezed a bit of the ointment onto his fingertip, then dabbed it gently onto the center of his lip, spreading it slowly.
Perhaps afraid of causing himself pain, his touch was featherlight.
He couldn’t see his own lips, relying solely on feel to apply the medicine—but Cheng Muyun watched every movement.
Slender, pale fingers glistened with the translucent ointment as they brushed over the swollen lip, the sight so unexpectedly sensual it made his heart skip a beat.
An utterly ordinary action, yet when performed by this person, it somehow resembled something far more intimate, enough to set one’s pulse racing.
The images he had just suppressed resurfaced in Cheng Muyun’s mind, darkening his deep-set eyes with barely restrained intensity.
Though Ruan Qing couldn’t see his own actions, he could sense the sudden shift in the other man’s gaze—dangerous, predatory. His fingers stiffened slightly before he awkwardly withdrew his hand.
Ruan Qing’s injuries were minor, mostly self-inflicted. Cheng Muyun, however, was another matter. His body was littered with terrifying wounds, including a life-threatening gash at his waist.
That one had come from Ling Qishuo’s blade during the man’s deranged state. Had Cheng Muyun dodged even a fraction slower, it might have cleaved him in half.
Yet he spoke of it with startling nonchalance. As he talked, he stripped off his shirt and lay face-down on the couch, then glanced back at Ruan Qing with an almost sheepish expression.
“Uh… I can’t reach my back. Could you… help me with this?”
The wound on Cheng Muyun’s back spanned nearly half its width. At the sight of the gruesome injury, Ruan Qing’s face paled. “O-okay.”
Given that Cheng Muyun had been injured saving him, applying the medicine was the least he could do.
His fingers trembled slightly as he spread the ointment over the wound. Cheng Muyun tensed instantly, his lips pressing into a tight line.
It wasn’t pain that caused it—but the sensation of that soft, warm touch against his skin.
The boy’s fingers were cool, yet where they made contact, it burned as if scalding, threatening to consume Cheng Muyun whole.
Sweat beaded on his forehead from the torment. His fists clenched violently, veins bulging in a way that looked almost savage.
To outsiders, it would only seem like he was in pain from having his wounds treated.
The injuries on his back were finally bandaged. Lying prone on the couch, Cheng Muyun suddenly seemed to weaken, barely mustering the strength to roll onto his back. His voice was faint and exhausted.
"I’m in too much pain to move. The wound on my waist… can you help with that too?"
Ruan Qing’s long eyelashes trembled slightly. After a brief silence, he could only bend down and continue tending to Cheng Muyun’s injuries.
Facing someone was entirely different from having them at your back. Lying on his back, Cheng Muyun could see every detail of the person before him—the swollen, damp redness of his lips, the alluring teardrop mole at the corner of his eye.
This man was tempting in every way, as if designed to lure others into sin.
Cheng Muyun lowered his gaze faintly. The moment he did, Ruan Qing—who was in the middle of applying medicine—suddenly felt his knees buckle. His body lurched forward uncontrollably, collapsing onto Cheng Muyun.
"Ngh—!" Cheng Muyun’s handsome face twisted instantly, veins bulging at his temples.
But it wasn’t from pain.
Ruan Qing had already been treating the wound on his waist. When he fell, his hand instinctively braced against Cheng Muyun’s body, his entire frame landing perilously close to a certain part of him.
A slight tilt, and his face would have made contact.
Cheng Muyun’s darkened eyes fixed on the man sprawled over him. No longer able to suppress his body’s reaction, under Ruan Qing’s stunned and flustered gaze, that part of him stiffened unmistakably. The air between them froze.
Cheng Muyun’s face burned crimson. Just as he opened his mouth to explain, hurried footsteps echoed outside—three people were approaching fast.
His expression shifted sharply. Grabbing Ruan Qing’s wrist, he shoved him into the wardrobe beside the bathroom, then swiftly gathered the scattered medical supplies from the couch and rolled onto the bed.
Not a trace of weakness remained.
Seconds later—BANG!—the hotel room door was kicked open.
It was Ji Nanyu and the other two.
Since Cheng Muyun’s ID had been used to book the room, their arrival wasn’t surprising. But he hadn’t expected them to track him down this quickly.
Pretending to tend to his waist, Cheng Muyun pulled the blanket over himself and glared at the intruders, irritation thick in his voice.
“What are you doing? Don’t you know how to knock?”
Ling Qishuo ignored Cheng Muyun. His gaze swept across the empty room before finally landing on Cheng Muyun, his icy tone laced with hostility.
“Where’s He Qing?”
Cheng Muyun answered impatiently, “How should I know? I haven’t seen him.”
“You didn’t take him?” Ji Nanyu narrowed his eyes, a hint of danger flickering in his gaze.
Cheng Muyun rolled his eyes. “I don’t even know him. Why would I take him?”
“Besides, I left the Nightmare World ages ago.”
He glanced at Ling Qishuo. “If you don’t believe me, ask him. I was curious and followed you guys into the dream, but the second I entered, I ran into him in the Nightmare World. He beat me half to death—I almost didn’t make it out.”
“If I’d known, I wouldn’t have bothered tagging along.”
There was a trace of lingering fear in Cheng Muyun’s voice, and his injuries weren’t fake. Ji Nanyu and Han Feng turned to Ling Qishuo, who gave a grim nod.
The timeline didn’t add up. He Qing had gone missing after Ling Qishuo brought him out of the Nightmare World, and Cheng Muyun had indeed left long before that.
His hotel check-in time also predated their exit from the Nightmare World.
Of course, the check-in records had been altered by Cheng Muyun’s doing. He glared at the three men, his expression sour.
“Close the door on your way out. Thanks.”
Since Cheng Muyun wasn’t the one who took He Qing, the trio had no reason to stay—nor any desire to. They turned and left the hotel without another word.
Only when their footsteps faded did Cheng Muyun finally let out a heavy sigh of relief.
He got out of bed and opened the wardrobe door, pulling Ruan Qing out from inside. Keeping his voice low, he said, “Let’s get out of here. It’s not safe anymore.”
Ruan Qing fell silent. He looked up at Cheng Muyun, his beautiful eyes filled with a complicated emotion—as if he were looking at an idiot.
He was certain they’d run into those three the moment they stepped outside.
They’d left too easily. Suspiciously easily. Unless they were genuinely stupid, they were probably waiting right outside the door, ready to ambush them the second they emerged.
A psychopath only trusts himself. And Cheng Muyun’s story? Full of holes.
Leaving the Nightmare World early didn’t mean he’d left the dormitory early.
Ruan Qing pinched the sleeve of his clothing with his slender, pale fingers. He glanced toward the door, then studied the layout of the hotel before speaking with unease and caution.
"Maybe... we should climb out the window."
He paused after saying it, then added in a hushed voice, "They haven’t gone far yet. If we leave through the front door, we might run into them."
Cheng Muyun was amused by Ruan Qing’s eagerness to avoid those three men. The corners of his lips curled upward uncontrollably. "Alright."
Their hotel room wasn’t high up—only on the third floor—so for Cheng Muyun, it was easy.
He scooped Ruan Qing into his arms and leaped down cleanly, only to freeze the next second. Even Ruan Qing, held tightly against him, went rigid.
Because standing in the shadows at the base of the wall was a figure.
It was… Ji Nanyu.
Ji Nanyu leaned against the wall, hands in his pockets. He tilted his head slightly, watching the two of them with a faint smile that didn’t reach his eyes.
"Haven’t met before, huh?"
