Chapter 57 Part 4

In his panic, his lower back bumped the showerhead adjustment valve, precisely poking the most sensitive dimple of his waist. The instant sour ache made Zhong Nian let out a soft moan.

The man outside immediately heard: “Zhong Nian?”

“Mmph…”

Zhong Nian rubbed the sore spot and looked at the Little Octopus coiled on the shelf with the soap. He paused, then said, “I’m fine. Just bumped my waist by accident.”

“Is it serious?”

“Not serious.” After replying, Zhong Nian narrowed his eyes at the octopus and reached out to grip its head, picking it up.

In his hand, the octopus was very obedient. The tentacles that had been gripping the shelf immediately released and instead adeptly stuck to Zhong Nian’s slender wrist.

Remembering the last time it was thrown out the window, it didn’t rub around randomly.

“When did you sneak in again?” Zhong Nian demanded in a low voice.

“Squish…”

The octopus couldn’t speak, just blinked its beady eyes at him. One tentacle pointed at the drain.

Zhong Nian: “……”

Perhaps only this devil was the most pathetic, sneaking into a human’s house in such a manner.

However, when Zhong Nian parted the bathroom blinds and glanced outside, he saw no mist.

He felt puzzled. Could this octopus have some special ability? Or was there another reason?

He picked up the octopus and examined it closely, pinching it this way and that, but he couldn’t spot anything unusual.

He had to admit, not only did this octopus look like a translucent slime, but it also felt that way to the touch—exceptionally pleasant.

“Chirp!”

No matter how he kneaded and pinched it, the octopus still managed to wrap around the bar of soap to serve him, rubbing it along his arm.

When Zhong Nian met its gaze, it redoubled its efforts, acting like an overly eager lackey.

“Gloop chirp chirp.”

“Why can that Goat Demon talk, but you can’t?” Zhong Nian asked, then muttered to himself, “Well, you’re weaker than him, after all.”

The Goat Demon was the Priest’s split body, after all.

At those words, the octopus—which had just been so docile that he could roll and squash it like dough—suddenly flew into a rage. Its beady eyes turned into two opposing slashes, and its tentacles flailed wildly as it chirped and squeaked, as if it were cursing someone out.

Zhong Nian failed to cover its mouth in time, and the Masked Man outside heard the commotion. Before the man could burst through the door, Zhong Nian called out first: “I’m fine! It’s just the sound of me lathering up soap bubbles!”

The excuse was a bit far-fetched, but the man outside still chose to believe him.

“Told you you’re no good, and now you’re mad,” Zhong Nian said with a smirk at the octopus.

The octopus instantly switched to a pitiful expression, nuzzling against Zhong Nian’s fingers and gesturing animatedly.

It took Zhong Nian some effort to understand: the octopus was explaining that its temper wasn’t aimed at him, but at that detestable Goat Demon—and it accused the other of having bullied it.

“The Goat Demon is gone now,” Zhong Nian told it.

The octopus froze for a moment, then waved its tentacles again.

This time, it was out of joy.

Once it finished celebrating, it tried to resume soaping Zhong Nian up.

Zhong Nian snatched the soap away. “Don’t try to take advantage of me.”

“Chirp……” Two tentacles poked at each other innocently, putting on an aggrieved, wrongly accused face. But its beady eyes kept darting toward the human’s water-beaded skin—now even more delicate and inviting—and his flawless body. Sneakily, one tentacle extended toward another spot.

Just a second before the tentacle tip could brush against his chest, Zhong Nian grabbed it, balled it up without mercy, opened the window, and tossed it out.

Because of this nuisance, Zhong Nian’s bath took twice as long as usual.

When he finally emerged, he met the gaze of the Masked Man, who had been waiting patiently. Zhong Nian smiled. “I’m done. Let’s go.”

The Masked Man suppressed his questions and simply said, “Do you want some medicine on your waist?”

Zhong Nian had nearly forgotten about it. Prompted by the Masked Man, he instinctively lifted his shirt hem and twisted around to look.

His waist was slender to begin with, flowing into beautifully undulating curves at the hips. This twist made his pose all the more alluring, impossible to look away from.

At the unique dimples of his lower back, there was now a glaring red mark—like a dab of rouge, or as if someone had pressed down hard with a finger.

The Masked Man glanced at it once and jerked his eyes away, as if scalded.

Yet Zhong Nian turned to him for help. “I can’t see it myself. Is it red?”

The Masked Man swallowed hard, forcing his gaze back to that mesmerizing red imprint. He let out a low “Mm.”

“Never mind. It doesn’t hurt much—just a bit sore,” Zhong Nian said as he released his hem, letting it fall and cover the glimpse of spring.

He didn’t care much about such a minor bruise, not wanting to seem overly delicate.

But then he heard the Masked Man offer, “Let me apply the medicine and rub it in for you.”