Chapter 168#
The Great Hunt 19#
“Recovering what?” Anfi looked at him coldly, letting out a sneer. “Memories regarding your transgression?”
Yu Feichen thought for a moment; it wasn’t wrong to put it that way. He leaned in close to Anfi. A powerful offensive prop materialized silently in the air, its cold blade tip pressing against his throat.
Yu Feichen’s expression didn’t change in the slightest.
“It wasn’t transgression,” he said.
Anfi asked indifferently, “Then what was it?”
What was it?
Yu Feichen found himself unable to answer the question.
Starting from the pheromones of the Ever-Sleeping Flower, time and time again—what exactly did it represent? And what had been gained?
Yu Feichen looked down at Anfi.
In the night, he was already long familiar with Anfi’s silhouette.
It was as if the words flowed out without thinking; he had never consciously considered this matter, yet when he spoke, it was as natural as stating a long-established fact.
“It’s that I want to be close to you,” he heard himself say.
A possession was always making strange demands. Anfi’s eyelashes fluttered unnaturally. He shifted his gaze away and said, “Are we not close enough now?”
As if unable to feel the blade against his neck, Yu Feichen continued to lean toward Anfi.
The blade grazed the skin of his neck at extremely close range. Yu Feichen’s lips curled slightly. For some reason, he was certain Anfi would pull back.
After all, there seemed to be only one possession.
…There is only one possession, Anfi thought as the blade was about to sever Yu Feichen’s neck.
Even though the troublesome thing in front of him was currently whole, what would happen if that kind of thing occurred again?
In his dreams, scenes of trying over and over to make him stand before him again resurfaced.
As if through a layer of dreamlike phantoms, he looked at Yu Feichen.
In a trance, Yu Feichen’s presence seemed to drift far away again.
Thump, thump.
Anfi’s heart skipped two uneasy beats.
Yu Feichen easily disarmed the dagger from Anfi’s hand.
In the next moment, a kiss fell—much lighter and more lingering than the one before. Yu Feichen finally remembered his idea for “improvement.”
It carried no sense of transgression or possession; it was as if, truly as he said before, he simply wanted to be closer, just a little closer.
Ideally, even the physical shells would vanish, like one cup of water being poured into another. To coexist thoroughly and eternally.
The phantoms of the dream gradually receded within this pervasive, lukewarm kiss.
But it did not end at a kiss.
A dangerous atmosphere gradually spread and grew.
During a brief moment of separation, Yu Feichen looked at Anfi.
He loves the masses, and that includes you. Yu Feichen understood this. Most of the time, he was accustomed to this fact. He had intended to maintain the gentle attitude of the previous kiss throughout, but in such a silent, memory-less night—where the darkness swallowed everything like thick ink—there were no masses in the God’s world, only him.
He saw his own irredeemable nature again; his soul was filled with black thorns.
He insisted on seeing teardrops sliding down long, fragile eyelashes; seeing the mist dampen that flawless silver hair—he fantasized about crushing Him, just as the dark night crushes the moon.
Anfi’s silver hair was scattered across the pillow. He suppressed his rapid breaths. Coldness and brilliance intertwined in the dim candlelight. His memory was a total blank; the only thing ruling him was the lofty nature of a king and master. In the beginning, he instinctively refused to be led by Yu Feichen toward that empty abyss of pleasure.
Thus, like a wolfhound that had failed to catch its prey, Yu Feichen tore at his God—who had not yet fallen from the clouds—with an even more crazed and grim force.
He knew every slight change in Anfi’s body, from resistance to forced acceptance, then to powerless trembling and weak, hot exhales.
At times like this, Anfi was never a match for him.
The last candle flickered out.
In the total darkness, the obsessed became more obsessed, and the sober became more sober.
Anfi knelt, his silver hair falling to veil his profile. His body was teetering, about to collapse downward, only to be held firmly by Yu Feichen from behind.
Yet, a faint, barely visible smile suddenly touched the corner of his mouth.
He suddenly remembered an ancient precept: a monarch’s status is never established through struggle; his authority is offered by the hand of the governed.
Similar, ambiguous, and chaotic scenes seemed to emerge vaguely in his mind. Yu Feichen enjoyed depriving and controlling every part of his body, but the plight of the soul and the body were actually polar opposites.
The one intending to transgress was the one with nowhere to escape; the one controlled was never him.
Anfi felt satisfied.
—Within the scent of his possession, he fell serenely toward that abyss.
It was only much later that Yu Feichen released Anfi, who was completely dazed.
Not only did Anfi still lack hands, but at this moment, he seemed to have lost all control over his body, leaning limply against Yu Feichen’s shoulder.
Soft, warm breath brushed past Yu Feichen’s ear. A light, muddled voice sounded like an unconscious murmur: “Xiao Yu…”
Yu Feichen intermittently kissed the side of Anfi’s ear, signaling that he was listening.
Anfi: “Will you… leave again?”
Yu Feichen’s movements paused.
“I never left,” he said.
Anfi seemed to let out a soft laugh, lifting a finger to gently smooth Yu Feichen’s hair.
Then he leaned entirely against Yu Feichen, not moving on his own again.
Yu Feichen carried him to the room’s bathroom. Along the way, he calculated Anfi’s currently insufficient sleep time.
Forget it.
He would leave the circus entirely to Morphee. Although Morphee always looked sleep-deprived, Yu Feichen felt that if he held on a bit longer, he could manage.
Halfway through the following afternoon, Anfi slowly opened his eyes.
This time was much better than the last; he didn’t coldly say, “You transgressed against me.”
Yu Feichen: “Good afternoon.”
Anfi: “…”
Anfi closed his eyes again.
Yu Feichen: “Did you remember anything?”
Anfi didn’t answer.
This attitude made Yu Feichen understand that it wasn’t because he had remembered something, but purely because he found this possession of his annoying and didn’t want to look at him.
It wasn’t until toiletries and breakfast were placed by the bedside that Anfi looked at Yu Feichen again.
His gaze was still indifferent, but it appeared a bit more gentle and stable than yesterday.
“Yu Feichen.” Anfi softly recited Yu Feichen’s name.
“It’s me.” Yu Feichen kissed his forehead. “Did you remember anything else?”
Anfi slowly shook his head, then frowned slightly after a moment: “Xiao Yu.”
After asking a few more times, Anfi remembered his name and could vaguely recall several worlds they had experienced together.
Though it wasn’t clear—limited to being aware that he was with him—it was considered an improvement. His “refinement” had yielded immediate results, and Yu Feichen felt satisfied. To help Anfi continue recovering, he would need to keep looking for viable ways to improve.
What made him feel even better was that, up until now, Anfi hadn’t remembered what exactly Morphee did.
“His drawings are very ugly,” Yu Feichen said.
Anfi’s intuition did not raise any objection to this statement.
The sun was about to set.
Thirty or so new faces had already joined the circus, and things were peaceful for the time being.
Of course, there were a few “prey” who met the criteria and started attacking their companions after entering the base, intending to use them to obtain high-level props. In the end, they all received salvation via Gatling gun.
Morphee was anxiously drawing cards one after another, cards scattered all over the floor again.
“The child is beyond saving,” Shina said desperately to the Doctor. “Doctor, you claim to be a brain surgeon. Do you have any insights?”
The Doctor scrutinized Morphee. “My apologies, this doesn’t seem to be within my scope of treatment. However, he seems to be using certain superstitious behaviors to deceive himself.”
When all the cards were drawn, Morphee reached the end of his patience. “Is Yu Feichen slacking off? He didn’t say he wouldn’t come during the day, did he? I must see him.”
“Tsk,” the Doctor said. “This symptom could be solved by hanging him from a lamppost.”
“Heehee, hang him up.”
“Tie him up…”
The Doctor leaned against the railing. After a day and a night, he seemed somewhat fatigued. He took off his gold-rimmed glasses and wiped them meticulously with a clean flannel cloth.
“Doctor, you’re tired.”
“Doctor, your focus is declining as your concentration time increases.”
“Doctor, you’re reaching your limit.”
“Since you’re useless now, then go die—”
A snow-bright kitchen knife flashed with a cold light.
The Doctor acted as if he hadn’t noticed, still wiping his glasses.
“Allow me to ask,” Shina said cautiously, “Are you really not worried?”
“Oh? Them? They aren’t dangerous,” the Doctor said. “I hope you don’t have a prejudice against them; they are just very ill. Even I am not certain I can fully cure them.”
Shina: “That’s not what I meant.”
“I understand, thank you. And there’s no need to worry about my personal safety.” Having finished wiping, the Doctor put his glasses back on. A smile that was elegant yet held a hint of coldness touched his lips. “After all, if I die, what else would there be for them to play with in this world?”
Hearing this, the two patients exchanged a dark look, the level of madness in their eyes seemingly increasing once more.