Xia Miao wanted to kick him off, but considering his injuries and fearing she might worsen them, she held back. "Fu Lan, stop acting crazy!"
Fu Lan was scolded again and paused his restless movements seeking pleasure for his own arousal. Instead, he stared at her blankly, his youthful, handsome face radiating innocence and purity. Even his eyes, which often oozed cunning malice, and the black teardrop mole beneath them now seemed harmless and benign.
Xia Miao glared at him. "Listen carefully—I would never hurt you. So don’t ever bring up killing you in front of me again!"
Fu Lan was genuinely bewildered. "Miao Miao, don’t you love me anymore?"
"Because I love you, I don’t want you to get hurt."
He still didn’t understand. "Why?"
"Are you an idiot?" Xia Miao poked his forehead. "If you get hurt, it’ll hurt, won’t it? And if you’re in pain, I’ll feel it too!"
Fu Lan’s expression froze, and for a long moment, he couldn’t speak.
Did injuries hurt?
Of course they did.
But Fu Lan had never paid attention to that. Born under the shadow of "desire" and "death," he existed to wreak havoc, be killed, and then resurrect like an indestructible virus—only to repeat the cycle anew. That was his fate.
So he had never once considered the question: Would it hurt if he got injured?
Xia Miao had intended to scold him further, but seeing his childlike confusion, her heart softened against her will.
Her hand gently caressed his cheek as she murmured, "I couldn’t reach you for so long today. I was terrified—afraid you’d push your luck too far and die out there. When I saw how badly hurt you were, I was scared you wouldn’t recover, that you’d just collapse and never get up again."
Fu Lan instinctively nuzzled into her palm, his damp gaze clinging to her face as his breathing grew heavier, more erratic.
Xia Miao whispered, "Fu Lan, can you try… not to get hurt anymore?"
For some reason, Fu Lan’s vision blurred strangely, his throat tightening until his voice came out hoarse. "Okay."
They both knew it wouldn’t be easy. Recklessness and death were his nature, and suppressing that instinct was no simple feat.
But it didn’t matter.
She would stay by his side.
Fu Lan lowered his head, scattering kisses across her face before capturing her lips. His slick tongue, like the forked whisper of a venomous serpent, slipped into her mouth, tangling with hers in a feverish, unrestrained dance. Their ragged breaths melded into one, gradually syncing into the same chaotic rhythm.
Strangely, Xia Miao’s mind wandered at that moment.
The first time he kissed her, he’d been like an impatient boy, brimming with untamed lust.
The second time, his aggression had been overwhelming, desperate to mark her as his own.
But now, his kiss carried something else—obsession, devotion.
"Miao Miao, I love you."
"I love you so much."
"Love me more… just a little more."
His murmurs coiled around her like a damp curse, echoing in her ears, etching itself into her soul so she could never forget him.
When his lips trailed down to her chest, Xia Miao finally lost control. She flipped their positions, tearing off his pants at last—just as he’d wanted.
The night was thick, its chill inescapable.
Lin Baobao didn’t know how long she’d been running. Exhaustion didn’t exist in her mind; there was only one thought—run farther, farther still. The treasure she’d luckily obtained couldn’t be stolen from her.
The adrenaline masked the bloodied soles of her feet, the searing pain. Only when she reached her rented apartment near campus did she frantically lock the doors, draw the curtains, and carefully retrieve the severed head from her bag.
The hollow eye sockets only amplified its macabre, shattered beauty.
Lin Baobao cradled the head reverently, staring at it as though it were the most divine idol. Swallowing hard, she whispered, "It’s okay now, Fu Lan. I’ve brought you home. No one can hurt you anymore. Believe me—I’ll protect you. Even if the whole world turns against you, I’ll stand by your side."
"I know it must have been so hard… No one ever truly cared for you. No one ever loved you."
"But I’m different."
The mysterious, ethereal boy had a way of dredging up the deepest desires buried in the human heart.
For some, it was wealth. For others, power. And for a rare few, it was the fulfillment of self-worth.
Lin Baobao saw Fu Lan as a forsaken soul, abandoned by the world—and herself as the exception.
She fancied herself a savior, destined to redeem this tragic youth.
She would be his sun, warming him, healing him, reigniting his will to live.
But why?
The head remained silent, its pallid face lifeless, its empty sockets like abysses that devoured reason the longer she stared.
Lin Baobao shook it gently. "Fu Lan… Fu Lan, talk to me. I’ll accept everything about you. I’ll treat you well!"
Still, the head gave no response.
A surge of fury rose in her chest. Why wouldn’t he speak to her?
Then, a knock came at the door.
Lin Baobao ignored it at first, but the relentless rapping forced her to set the head down and crack the door open.
Leng Jingshen stood there, disheveled. Relief flickered in his eyes when he saw her. "Everyone’s gone mad. I was worried about you. Glad you’re safe."
Lin Baobao blinked. "You… worried about me?"
Leng Jingshen nodded. "Baobao, you weren’t scared, were you? Don’t worry—I’m here."
Her heart skipped—until Leng Jingshen stepped inside. She snapped back to reality, darting in front of him to block his path.
In that instant, the two, entangled through lifetimes, sensed it simultaneously.
—He hadn’t come out of concern for her.
—She knew he hadn’t come out of concern for her.
A giggle slithered through the air, serpentine and ominous.
The head hidden behind the couch pillow rolled out, lying askew with its crimson lips curled high, jagged teeth faintly visible. At the severed neck, tiny tendrils of flesh had already begun to regrow.
"Fools! What are you waiting for? Kill each other already! Only the winner gets the honor of delivering me back to my girlfriend's place!"
