Chapter 65: Two-Faced Phoenix Man 24

“So hot… Jiang Jiang, it’s so hot…”

The scorching breaths drifted in and out, near and far, burrowing deep into his ear canals like wriggling threadworms.

They mingled with the boy’s cat-like mewls—lingering, intimate, blissful—as if some primal call rising from the depths of the earth.

Strange, dark liquid dripped steadily onto the floor, dull and rhythmic, discordant. Yet amid this thick, ambiguous haze of ambient sound, no one would notice its oddity.

In a hazy blur, Jiang Rang felt his entire body engulfed in flames.

Yet he felt no pain.

It was an utterly bizarre sensation, as if his whole being had been submerged in a pool of warm water. For a fleeting moment, the young man even wondered if his soul had already fled his flesh. Like a black soul snatched up by a crow’s beak and held aloft, he gazed down upon the pristine bed where a beautiful corpse lay bound to an enormous stone cross.

Glossy black hair spilled across the dark stone slab like splattered holy water.

The young man’s eyes were tightly shut, his head slightly bowed. His skin gleamed snow-white amid the coiling black shadows, radiating an almost luminous sheen.

But that whiteness wasn’t entirely pure.

Fresh red gashes, like precise incisions from a sharp blade, traced cruciform scars across his flawless forehead, neck, and joints—every nexus of flesh and organ.

They glowed faintly crimson, tiny beads of blood seeping forth like the tears of a weeping devil.

Of course, none of this was truly shocking.

What instilled true horror and revulsion was the boy sprawled atop that exquisite corpse.

The boy stood no taller than about five-foot-seven, his frame still boyishly tender. He was wrapped in a school uniform, his hair neatly trimmed in an obedient student’s cut, his clear-featured face so disarmingly cute it bordered on harmless.

He looked for all the world like a good child straight out of the school gates.

But at that moment, this picture of innocence was burying his face in the chilled, lifeless corpse, mouth agape like a fanged maw as he devoured it with frenzied kisses.

At times, he would seize the corpse’s neck in a near-mad grip, his eyes blazing crimson as if blood might spill from them; at others, he would drop to his knees before the young man’s pallid, bluish feet, worshiping and licking them in abject terror, like a raving lunatic.

Delicate veins like budding branches bulged across his hands, throbbing in unison. The expression twisting his face sent an instant chill down the spine.

His cute cheeks were ashen-pale, laced with the deathly pallor of insatiable lust. Those gemstone-blue eyes stared blankly from hollow sockets, like priceless relics polished by a necrophile millionaire and preserved at exorbitant cost.

In that instant, the two beautiful corpses were locked in a deathly embrace, their bodies fused as tightly as if stitched together with needle and thread. They writhed in sync with the boy’s pathological motions.

Like a pair of giant pythons locked in the throes of mating season.

And what of Jiang Rang?

The moment he glimpsed that familiar face, still rounded with traces of baby fat, all his strength had drained away.

Raging terror consumed him like a straw-stacked pyre reduced to crackling ash in an instant, nerves fraying with a buzzing snap.

Jiang Rang could never forget that face.

Even if he’d desperately tried to erase the boy’s name from memory, even if he’d told himself a thousand times that this was a society governed by law and that madman wouldn’t dare do anything… the sight of that still-youthful, rabbit-pale cheek hit him like a ghost in broad daylight.

His lips trembled as he stared at the depraved, unholy scene unfolding in the room. A scream writhed in his throat like a slug, choking off any cry for help.

The vision before him grew ever more blurred, ripples spreading across it like a lake disturbed by a stone’s plop.

The flames burned fiercer still.

The young man even sensed a hint of searing agony now, as if he’d abruptly revived as a living corpse.

No longer observing from a detached third-person view the absurd violation of his own body, he now confronted head-on the oppression of that terrifyingly innocent boy.

He watched the boy’s paper-pale, pure face hover above his own, slowly rotting away. Pomegranate-red lips oozed silken trails of maggots and blood. From those blue eyes sprouted tentacles lined with suckers, quivering with eagerness, poised to impale him through in the next instant.

Jiang Rang nearly sobbed out a scream.

Tears brimmed in his eyes as he shuddered uncontrollably, stammering apologies. “Stop haunting me… please, stop haunting me. I was wrong—I was wrong—”

“Jiang Rang?”

The distant, ethereal voice echoed at his ear like the tolling of an ancient bell in the Divine Temple.

The rippling waters surged wider, until a slender beam of light sliced through the nightmare’s veil like a thin blade, flooding the shadowed world with radiance.

Jiang Rang’s eyes snapped open, and he gasped for breath, his throat heaving violently.

His eyes were wide open, the pale, flushed corners nearly tearing from the strain of staring so hard.

“Jiang Rang? What’s wrong?”

A pleasant, gentle voice sounded softly by his ear. Jiang Rang turned his head slowly, stiff as a block of wood.

He found himself staring into a deep blue sea.

Jiang Rang’s face drained of color. Suddenly, as if he could no longer bear it, he dry-heaved at the sight of that elegant, beautiful face.

But the young man had nothing to vomit— he hadn’t eaten much the night before. At most, stomach acid churned in his throat.

His dazed, unfocused eyes darted about erratically. Feeling Ji Mingyu gently soothing him, Jiang Rang clutched at his bare chest, his pale lips trembling faintly. After a long moment, he blurted out a seemingly random question.

“Ji Mingyu, did you ever attend Rongming Junior High in S City?”

Ji Mingyu’s upper body was draped in a light gray bathrobe, his well-defined physique bearing faint marks left by the young man the night before.

The man lowered his gaze slightly. He continued patiently stroking the young man’s quivering, fragile spine— so delicate and beautiful, as if a single press would make that lovely waist go completely limp.

Ji Mingyu didn’t use any force, just precise, gentle pats as he replied softly to the young man, “No, I’m from Huajing. I went to school there all along.”

Jiang Rang took a deep breath. He suddenly turned back, locking eyes with the man’s still-charming, elegantly beautiful face, scanning it inch by inch before asking, “Do you have any brothers or sisters? Or any relatives with blue eyes like yours?”

Ji Mingyu smiled, the curve of his lips unchanging. “No.”

“Why the sudden questions? Am I not enough for you? You want a pair of brothers to serve you too?”

“Jiang Rang, could you even handle that?” The man chuckled lightly, his brows arching as his gaze roamed up and down the young man’s smooth, pale body.

Jiang Rang’s tension instantly dissolved under the man’s absurd teasing, his color returning as he snapped back to reality. He shot the man an irritated glare and said coolly, “Thanks, Great Painter Ji. I’m not that desperate.”

Ji Mingyu let out a low hum of laughter and didn’t pursue the topic.

The two of them had been intimate lovers on the bed last night, but once the rush of hormones faded, they tacitly avoided mentioning it.

Jiang Rang was just thinking about getting dressed and out of bed, but his body felt so weak he could barely muster any strength.

Before he could even ask Ji Mingyu to help him, a faint beeping sound came from the door as the lock disengaged.

It was very soft, but enough to put both of them on high alert.

In the next instant, the door swung open.

The shadow at the doorway stretched long. Shuffling along with it was a hunched, gloomy man with a deathly pale complexion.

A layer of white gauze covered the man’s right eye, while his left eye gleamed with a faint red amid the black.

Zhou Yichun’s hair had grown very long, his bangs hanging over that pitch-black eye, blending into the shadows. A strange smile twisted his lips, and he moved in an awkward, same-side limp, like a wooden zombie crawling out of a grave.

It was as if the man had finally buckled under mental strain and gone completely mad.

He didn’t say a word to the young man who had betrayed him, as if Jiang Rang were nothing more than a puff of air in his eyes.

Or perhaps it was more accurate to say he was trying to forget the betrayal.

Zhou Yichun focused all his attention on the slut who had seduced his lover into cheating.

He couldn’t hear Jiang Rang’s screams, questions, or curses.

Like a machine devoid of sensation, he just kept smashing his fists into that earring-wearing whore who struck provocative poses.

Ji Mingyu was no pushover, of course.

Though the man appeared refined and amiable, when it came to a real fight, his punches landed with brutal force. He even targeted the other’s weak spots with ruthless precision.

Such as Zhou Yichun’s half-blind eye.

In no time, Zhou Yichun let out a miserable scream, clutching the eye whose gauze had been torn away. His body shook as he desperately twisted away. It was as if he’d lost all his strength at last— even when Ji Mingyu continued landing harsh blows, he didn’t resist again.

The pitiful man only knew to cover that half-blind gray eye, dodging and cowering, not daring to let Jiang Rang catch even a glimpse.

Even as his rival trampled and humiliated him beneath his feet.

He lay there like the last dying fish stranded in a dry riverbed, his chest rising and falling faintly, curled into a ball, at the mercy of others.

After a long while, it was Jiang Rang who pulled Ji Mingyu back.

Murderous intent flickered in Ji Mingyu’s eyes. Once Jiang Rang held him, he stopped striking, but he felt the stinging pain on his cheek and the trickle of blood. His face darkened with rage, a glint of killing intent flashing in his eyes.

No one knew what Ji Mingyu had sacrificed for this face of his.

For it, he had lain countless times on the operating table in agony and despair, letting the surgeons carve him up as they pleased.

He had meticulously reshaped himself, inch by inch, into the kind of man Jiang Rang might like.

The slightly upturned corners of his eyes, the smooth and elegant skin, the beautifully arched bones, the sharply defined features, the naturally long lashes…

Every detail, every feature—he had altered them all. He was even addicted to the surgeries now.

Ji Mingyu had long since lost his mind.

Zhou Yichun striking his face had violated his deepest taboo.

But Ji Mingyu knew he couldn’t show even the slightest hint of distress right now.

Jiang Rang wasn’t a fool. He might already suspect something, so Ji Mingyu absolutely could not betray any obsession with his appearance.

Thus, the moment the young man grabbed him, he had stopped.

He had to hold it together—

The man felt as if countless ants were crawling and gnawing at the wound on his face.

He could barely keep himself from spiraling into more devastating thoughts.

Would this wound scar? Would it shift his bones? Would it turn him back into that ugly mess he used to be?

If he became ugly, would Jiang Rang still treat him the way he did now?

“Ji Mingyu? Are you okay?”

The young man’s worried gaze calmed the man’s turbulent emotions somewhat—but only somewhat.

The more attention Jiang Rang paid him now, the more Ji Mingyu wanted to hide this marred, ugly face.

Gritting his teeth, he forced himself to focus as the young man said, “Ji Mingyu, let me take you to the hospital. That cut on your face needs proper treatment.”

The hospital? No chance.

The cheap ointments they used in those ordinary clinics would ruin his skin—scarring it, rotting it…

His face was already like a block of tofu riddled with needle holes, so fragile that the slightest jolt would shatter it into something grotesque and deformed.

Ji Mingyu couldn’t risk it.

With a pallid smile, the man murmured, “Let’s go to my place. I have a private doctor there.”

Jiang Rang didn’t think twice. He immediately called a car and helped the injured man outside.

Just before stepping through the door, the young man turned back to the huddled figure in the room and said coolly, “Yichun, I’ve called for an ambulance. They should be here soon.”

With that, the young man vanished, gently supporting the other man as they left.

Zhou Yichun said nothing. He just clutched his eyes tightly, slowly lifting his deathly pale, lifeless face halfway.

The room fell into an eerie silence.

After a long while, the man finally stirred, his body hunched like a mechanical dog obeying a command to rise.

He gently lowered his hand, revealing that gray, slightly swollen eye.

Zhou Yichun hung his head expressionlessly. He didn’t even feel much anger—as if he were sealed behind a layer of transparent gauze, cut off from his own despair and breakdown, unable to sense it or express it.

He didn’t wait for the ambulance.

He passed it on the way.

It was still winter. Walking those gloomy streets, the icy wind and snow slashed at his neck like blades.

Everyone else huddled against the cold, breathing into their hands as they hurried by.

But Zhou Yichun felt neither cold nor pain.

He tilted his head up slightly, gazing at the sky—half blood-red, half murky gray. His long lashes trembled.

Two trails of tears slid gently down his ashen cheeks.

One clear, one red with blood.

His extreme emotions had been ground to dust through betrayal after betrayal, lie after lie, trust shattered time and again.

Now, the heart in Zhou Yichun’s chest barely beat at all.

He didn’t take a cab. The cold wind brought a sickly flush to his pale face, and the snow piled thicker along the roadside—soaked black—drenched his shoes through.

Zhou Yichun walked all the way home on foot.

He didn’t go to Jiang Rang’s little room across the hall. Instead, he entered his own dim safe house.

Stepping inside, he was met with a chaotic pile of empty bottles on the table—the liquor he’d drowned his anxieties in last night, waiting in vain for his lover who never came home.

Zhou Yichun was a neat freak, but last night, he hadn’t had the energy to clean up.

Drenched in exhaustion and the haze of alcohol, he dragged his heavy legs into the bedroom.

The bedroom was spotless and cozily arranged, with an array of high-end Lego sets on the table—toys Jiang Rang had once loved.

The man shut the door without a word and locked it tight.

Then he sank slowly onto the edge of the bed. His deathly pale face made his wide, mismatched eyes look especially terrifying.

From the nightstand, he retrieved a small vial of blue injectant and some white pills.

The room was pitch black—no curtains drawn, no lights on.

Everything unfolded just like a scene straight out of a horror movie.

Zhou Yichun was that living corpse on the verge of becoming a Departed Soul.

The man stared intently at the pile of drugs. After a long moment, his trembling fingers gently picked up the syringe.

His pale cheeks were utterly lifeless. His shaking thumb pressed against the syringe’s plunger, pushing it inch by inch into his gradually cooling body.

Once the injection was done, Zhou Yichun casually tossed the empty casing onto the floor. Then he scooped up the white pills at his bedside and shoved handfuls into his mouth.

His sharp teeth slowly ground the bitter pills.

With every chew, the man’s face contorted further.

Until they all swelled up inside his stinging stomach.

Zhou Yichun half-reclined against the bed, feeling his body steadily draining of strength. Yet he strained to widen his eyes, as if eagerly awaiting something—or someone—to appear.

Sure enough, it wasn’t long before his gaze turned hazy and distant.

He seemed to see a figure push open the door and approach his side, offering gentle comfort.

A flush of shy red bloomed across the man’s face, just like any lovesick fool lost in romance.

His voice was slurred and uneven from the drugs, but the words were still just discernible.

“Jiang Jiang,” he murmured, “you’ve come to keep me company.”

The young man in the empty air appeared to whisper something back, and Zhou Yichun broke into a sudden smile.

His unfocused eyes stared dreamily into the void as he softly replied, “I love you too.”