Chapter 97#

I Wish to Be Your Cat#

Su Ruhui was also awake, lying on the bed sighing. He had originally thought that the time to confess to Sang Chiyu could be delayed a little longer, so they could have a few more happy days together. It must be Su Guanyu causing trouble—that guy had tampered with the algorithm, causing Sang Chiyu to recall the past.

【Go seduce him.】The System urged Su Ruhui.

“Forget it.” Su Ruhui sighed for the twenty-fourth time.

What was the point? Tricking thirty-two years of time was already a gain. Sang Chiyu was different from him; outside, he had no parents, no one at all. He had started the rebirth program because his life had been a failure and he wanted to start over. But Sang Chiyu was just unlucky—sent to kill him, only to be dragged into the Hyperverse. Sang Chiyu had his own career, his own friends and family—why would he stay for him?

Meeting him had been Sang Chiyu’s worst stroke of bad luck.

Su Ruhui had already decided: first thing in the morning, he would go find Sang Chiyu and solemnly tell him, “Hey, brother, I’m really sorry for delaying you so long. Once the permission reaches 100%, I’ll send you out immediately. I still have a few bases left that you haven’t destroyed. There are servers supporting the Hyperverse in those bases, along with clone prosthetic machines. I’ll give you a cloned prosthetic for free, guaranteed to be exactly like your old body—not a single cat hair missing. What, you want to arrest me? Well, that’s not impossible. My life is already miserable enough; I don’t mind being a little more miserable. As for what happened between us in the Hyperverse, don’t worry—I won’t say a single word to anyone outside. Let’s just pretend it never happened.”

And so they would go their separate ways. From then on, Sang Chiyu would continue being an officer, Su Ruhui would still be a terrorist. Sang Chiyu would hand him over to the Mystic Sect, get a few more stripes on his rank, and Su Ruhui would spend the rest of his life in a cell, dying alone.

Haha, perfect happy ending.

It didn’t matter. Su Ruhui was used to it. That was life—the more you wanted something, the less you got it. Unfulfilled desire was the norm. He had long been accustomed to teaching robots to talk in his isolated paradise and then having those robots keep him company. If that was the case, then he would just spend the rest of his life talking to himself while facing a wall.

Sang Chiyu, I let you go.

Things having come to this point, Su Ruhui felt there was no need to meet tomorrow. What was the point? It would only cause more heartbreak. He got up, ground some ink, wrote a letter, and left it on the table. In the letter, he told Sang Chiyu everything—the whole story, the conditions for opening the Heavenly Gate, and his promise to let Sang Chiyu go the moment the permission reached one hundred percent.

That should be enough. Su Ruhui’s breathing grew tight. He really didn’t want to face Sang Chiyu tomorrow and hear him say he didn’t love him anymore.

It hurt too much. He wasn’t afraid of having his leg sawed off, or of being covered in sores and bleeding internally—he was afraid of heartache.

He packed his bag, ready to slip away in the night. Fortunately, the Quiet Solitude Villa wasn’t inside the heavily guarded palace city; otherwise, sneaking out might have been a problem.

Just as he was about to push the door, the System suddenly prompted—

【Information change detected: Sang Chiyu, Devourer of Secrets, Blade Master, hates Su Ruhui the most, most, most, most.】

Uh, Su Ruhui was stunned. Why another “most”?

【Information change detected: Sang Chiyu, Devourer of Secrets, Blade Master, hates Su Ruhui the most, most, most, most, most.】

【Information change detected: Sang Chiyu, Devourer of Secrets, Blade Master, hates Su Ruhui the most, most, most, most, most, most.】

【Information change detected: Sang Chiyu, Devourer of Secrets, Blade Master, hates Su Ruhui the most, most, most, most, most, most, most.】

【Information change detected: Sang Chiyu, Devourer of Secrets, Blade Master, hates Su Ruhui the most, most, most, most, most, most, most, most.】

Su Ruhui: “…”

What was Sang Chiyu doing? What was happening?

Su Ruhui pushed the door open and smacked straight into someone. He stepped back a few paces and saw a dark figure in front of him—silent and rigid, like a wandering ghost drifting from who knows where. Su Ruhui was startled, but once his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he recognized Sang Chiyu.

“Brother Sang,” Su Ruhui waved a hand in front of his eyes. “Are you sleepwalking?”

Sang Chiyu’s gaze was icy, somewhat frightening.

“Where are you going?”

Su Ruhui’s heart wavered. He couldn’t exactly say he was running away, but the bag slung over his shoulder already gave it away.

He quickly turned back to grab the letter and showed it to Sang Chiyu. “Brother Sang, I left a letter. I wasn’t trying to trap you in the Hyperverse. Don’t misunderstand.”

Sang Chiyu looked down at the letter, his cold expression not softening at all. Su Ruhui watched his face, trying to read his mood. With that stiff, aloof demeanor, Su Ruhui couldn’t tell if he was happy or angry, and his heart grew anxious.

“Is this all you have to say to me?” Sang Chiyu’s voice was hoarse.

Su Ruhui grew even more alarmed, racking his brain to think if there was something he hadn’t made clear.

“No, there’s more.” Su Ruhui steeled himself.

“Speak.” Sang Chiyu looked at him.

Su Ruhui began a serious self-criticism. “I shouldn’t have pulled you in, blocked your memories, and scripted a story for you.”

“Mm.” Sang Chiyu’s expression was hard. “Anything else?”

His tone clearly implied, “If you don’t say something I want to hear, I’ll draw my blade and kill you.” What else could it be? Su Ruhui searched his mind desperately, then suddenly realized, “I haven’t taken off your collar!”

He reached for Sang Chiyu’s neck, but Sang Chiyu grabbed his hand. “Not that.”

Su Ruhui: “…”

He really couldn’t think of anything else.

Sang Chiyu stood in front of him, blocking the door. Su Ruhui had nowhere to run. If only he had stashed a few Dharma talismans when he was swapping clothes with Han Ye. But at the time, he’d been too focused on getting close to Sang Chiyu and forgot about them.

He took a deep breath. “Sang Chiyu, I’m sorry, truly sorry. The System doesn’t have enough permissions right now. I really can’t open the Heavenly Gate. I swear, once the permission is unlocked, I’ll let you go immediately. If you want to arrest me, I won’t resist. Do with me as you please. As for everything between us…” Su Ruhui forced a smile, trying to sound casual. “If you don’t take it to heart, that’s fine. It’s all just a virtual world, like playing a game. If it does bother you, don’t worry—I won’t tell anyone outside. I’ll bury it deep in my chest and never say a word.”

Sang Chiyu’s gaze grew even colder.

Su Ruhui delivered the final line: “Let’s just pretend nothing ever happened in the Hyperverse.”

The pitch-dark night was silent. The chilly spring wind swept over them, carrying a chill to the bone.

“Nothing ever happened.” Sang Chiyu repeated softly.

Su Ruhui nodded hastily. “Nothing ever happened.”

Suddenly, Sang Chiyu stepped through the door. Startled, Su Ruhui instinctively stepped back. Sang Chiyu grabbed his wrist and cornered him against the wall. With nowhere to retreat, Su Ruhui’s back pressed against the cold wooden panel.

“Su Ruhui,” Sang Chiyu said in a low voice, his tone as flat as always, but Su Ruhui could hear the suppressed anger, “You’ve always been forgetful. You don’t remember the words you said, the promises you made, and you can pretend the things you did never happened. You said you like me—you could deny it. You said you wanted to seduce me—you could turn around and go back on your word. But you need to understand one thing: if you decide to be shameless, be shameless all the way. If you provoke someone, provoke them to the end. You can choose to forget what came before, but what happens next—you need to remember it well.”

“Huh?” Su Ruhui tried to say something.

But the next moment, all the words he wanted to say were sealed by Sang Chiyu’s lips.

Sang Chiyu was genuinely furious. Su Ruhui’s irresponsible words had set his anger ablaze through his entire body.

“Do you remember that we slept together?” Sang Chiyu asked against his lips.

“…No.” Su Ruhui answered, his speech muffled.

“Good,” Sang Chiyu said. “After today, you will.”

Sang Chiyu’s scorching body heat covered Su Ruhui, making him feel like a piece of meat placed on a grill. With one hand, Sang Chiyu locked around his waist, immobilizing him; with the other, he untied his sash and pulled down his robe. As Su Ruhui’s shoulder touched the cold air, he shuddered violently, only to be seized again by Sang Chiyu’s burning palm. Su Ruhui was kissed breathless, his mind frozen dull, his thoughts like a stopped gear that couldn’t turn. Sang Chiyu looked down at him, his thumb gently grazing the blue veins on his neck.

Only then did Sang Chiyu realize that ever since Su Ruhui told the System he would seduce him, he had been waiting and hoping. Half his anger came from Su Ruhui trying to escape, and half from the disappointment of his expectations being dashed.

He thought he should leave a mark on Su Ruhui, so that Su Ruhui couldn’t deny it. Whenever Su Ruhui saw that mark, he would have to think of him. Sang Chiyu lowered his head and bit hard into Su Ruhui’s shoulder. Two rows of teeth marks appeared on the shoulder. Su Ruhui snapped back to reality, realizing what Sang Chiyu intended to do. It was as if an electric current spread from that bite mark all over his body, making his legs tremble and his body shake. He was like grass in a cold wind, shivering uncontrollably.

Sang Chiyu placed his hand on the waistband of his trousers.

“Stop!” Su Ruhui grabbed his hand. “I-I-I-I’m not ready yet!”

Sang Chiyu frowned.

“Let me explain,” Su Ruhui said urgently. “I think you’ve misunderstood something.”

“I don’t want to hear it.” Sang Chiyu undid his belt.

Su Ruhui: “…”

Sang Chiyu picked him up, laid him on the bed, and climbed on as well. Sang Chiyu supported himself with one hand on the bed, his snow-white hair cascading down like a waterfall, brushing against Su Ruhui’s ear. Those ice-blue eyes reflected Su Ruhui’s slightly panicked expression. Sang Chiyu was about to continue, then paused.

“I’ll give you three seconds to prepare,” he said.

According to what Sang Chiyu had mentioned before, it seemed they had already slept together, but Su Ruhui had completely forgotten. To be honest, this was Su Ruhui’s first time in a romantic relationship; he had never thought about what that act would feel like. Last time, in the small courtyard of Shunkang Ward, when Sang Chiyu suddenly went into heat, he had done some mental preparation, but that was too long ago and it hadn’t happened in the end. Now, Su Ruhui’s heart was pounding again.

He remembered the data on Sang Chiyu’s size and felt a surge of fear. If they actually went through with it, he would die! The fearless Su Ruhui was afraid.

“Three.”

Su Ruhui seized the opportunity to crawl off the bed, but Sang Chiyu grabbed his ankle and dragged him back. Sang Chiyu wrapped an arm around his waist, pressing his back against his chest. Su Ruhui landed right in Sang Chiyu’s lap, and at the same time, he felt something hard against his backside.

“Even a fugitive has rights,” Su Ruhui struggled. “I protest.”

“You’re not human.” Sang Chiyu forced him down onto the bed. “Two.”

Although Sang Chiyu meant that, strictly speaking, Su Ruhui was currently an AI and not a person, Su Ruhui still felt like he was being insulted.

“Brother Sang, you’ve really misunderstood! I love you, Brother Sang! I really love you!” Su Ruhui said. “I thought you didn’t want to be with me, so I said the past didn’t count. Read my mind! I’ll let you read every bit of it!”

“I won’t.”

Sang Chiyu’s cat pupils glowed with ice-blue fluorescence, the dangerous aura of a predator closing in on Su Ruhui.

He said, “One.”

He leaned down and began kissing from the forehead. In truth, his internal injuries hadn’t healed, and intense exercise wasn’t advisable. But the arrow was already on the string, and the fire in his heart burned wildly, searing his whole body. He didn’t care about the physical pain; he only wanted Su Ruhui.

Su Ruhui gasped, his mind growing chaotic again. Sang Chiyu licked his earlobe delicately. Somehow, even in human form, the man still had rough barbs on his tongue. Su Ruhui’s consciousness floated, his limbs weak.

Fear in his heart, his mind wanting to refuse, yet his body surrendered. He was both terrified of Sang Chiyu’s violent actions and secretly yearning for them.

Wave after wave, one bout after another.

Only the final step remained, but Sang Chiyu stopped.

“Su Ruhui,” he asked in a hoarse voice, “are you willing to give yourself to me?”

His question was so soft, so gentle.

Su Ruhui’s voice was bitter. “Don’t you hate me?”

Sang Chiyu was silent for a moment. His furry, pointed cat ears blushed slightly pink.

His voice was very low. “I hate you because you didn’t come seduce me.”

Su Ruhui’s heart ached. He had been so afraid that Sang Chiyu no longer loved him. It wasn’t that he lacked strength or was cowardly—he had endured enough pain, and his path had always been difficult and bitter. It was just that… losing something after having it was more painful than never having it at all.

Su Ruhui couldn’t live without his cat.

“Have you forgotten? I killed you before,” Su Ruhui said, his voice strained.

“It’s okay. I also blew up your paradise.” Sang Chiyu was very calm.

“I made the whole world hate you,” Su Ruhui added.

In the faint moonlight outside the window, Sang Chiyu examined his face and smoothed the furrow between his brows.

Sang Chiyu said softly, “If the whole world hates me in exchange for your love, it’s worth it.”

In an instant, all his feigned casual self-comfort crumbled. Su Ruhui closed his eyes and silently wept.

His life was a mess. Rebirth hadn’t brought him a turning point; suffering still clung to him like a shadow. He had personally built twenty-one paradises, but he had never owned one.

Until he owned a little cat.

Seeing Su Ruhui’s tears, Sang Chiyu froze for a moment. He had never seen Su Ruhui cry before—this guy would be grinning and spouting nonsense even at death’s door. Could he actually cry?

“If you don’t want to, I won’t force you,” Sang Chiyu said, loosening his hold.

Su Ruhui shook his head, wrapped his arms around Sang Chiyu’s neck, and pressed tightly against him.

“I’m willing,” Su Ruhui said.

“Really?” Sang Chiyu asked.

Su Ruhui was firm. “Really.”

Sang Chiyu brushed aside his hair, wiped the tears from his face, gazed into his ink-black eyes, and slowly began to move. Sang Chiyu’s gaze was even more aggressive than his movements. Though his eyes were ice-blue and looked so cold, Su Ruhui felt as if that gaze ignited him, burning him to ashes.

Their bodies merged, the world silent.

Sang Chiyu, drenched in sweat, let out a low sigh.

I am willing too.

Su Ruhui, I am willing to be tamed by you. I am willing to be your cat.

From now on, your collar shall be my medal.