EM CH19

Chapter 19: Pet Little Hand

Zhao Ran lay down beside Yu An, reaching an arm over him to pull the down duvet across. Just then, Yu An grew tired of lying on his stomach and rolled over, pressing his back flush against Zhao Ran’s chest.

His hand freezing in midair, Zhao Ran paused for several seconds.

Scrutinizing the carefree sleeping face in his arms, Zhao Ran curved his eyes with a gentle smile, quietly wrapping his arms around him, resting the tip of his nose against the hollow of Yu An’s neck.

A row of tiny fingertips poked out from the outer edge of the bed, whispering and sneaking glances at each other.

One hand among them couldn’t hold back its craving. Crawling onto the bedsheet, it stretched its fingertips obsessively, yearning to caress Yu An’s cheek.

Zhao Ran opened his eyes without warning, his irises flashing blood-red. Curling his lips back, his throat vibrated, letting out a low, guttural warning growl.

Cowed by the display, the severed hand retreated beneath the bed, scattering like panicked birds.

__

By the time Yu An woke up, it was already eight in the morning.

After a long moment, Yu An discovered to his astonishment that his body couldn’t rise no matter what, as if something were pinning his chest down with crushing weight.

Sleep paralysis? No. He distinctly felt a hand pressing down on his chest, the contours of five fingers unmistakably clear.

Forced to lie flat on his back, Yu An could clearly see a slender, fair hand stroking from his chest up to his cheek. The fingertips and knuckles blushed with pink, yet harbored immense power, holding him down single-handedly so he couldn’t get up.

A thumb lightly brushed over Yu An’s lips, before gliding down his neck and slipping beneath the duvet, the ridges of its palm tracing the skin of his waist and abdomen, sliding all the way down to cup a certain place.

“Who…” Yu An bit down hard on the tip of his tongue, struggling desperately to reclaim control of his body.

An inquiry from the bedroom doorway startled Yu An wide awake.

“What’s wrong?” Zhao Ran set a glass of freshly squeezed juice onto the nightstand, leaning in close by the bedside.

In an instant, the bizarre force pinning Yu An’s body receded like an ebbing tide. Like a drowning victim finally breaching the surface, he scrambled toward the edge of the bed, gasping for breath. He sat bolt upright, throwing off the down duvet, yet the bed was empty. There was nobody pressing on top of him at all.

He snapped his head around to glare at Zhao Ran.

Zhao Ran arched an eyebrow: “I didn’t touch you.”

His chest heaving as he panted heavily, Yu An rubbed his face once he steadied himself, thinking inwardly: “Thinking of things by day leads to dreaming of them by night… Even my dreams are filled with severed hands; the salon mission took too much of a toll on my psyche.”

“I need to head over to the Grey Crow Game Company now to meet their general manager. Officer Ye has a few more things to ask you; head over to the Peeping Eagle Bureau again after noon.”

“Food is in the fridge, and the microwave is on the bar counter. Feel free to use any of the electronics in the house. If you decide to head out, remember to lock the door behind you.”

“Yeah, I’m hitting the washroom…” Yu An remained somewhat dazed. To have this sort of dream in his interviewer’s bed… Without even meeting Zhao Ran’s eyes, he covered his lower half, bolted from the bedroom, scrambled into the washroom, and slammed the door shut.

“Brat,” Zhao Ran scoffed with a grin behind his back. “You’re already an adult, what are you hiding?”

Despite the smile on his face, Zhao Ran’s behavior was out of the ordinary.

He remained standing motionless before the bed until Yu An left the room, because his foot had been pinning down an object the entire time.

Trapped under his sole was a hand, severed from mid-forearm, writhing and twisting frantically with vibrant life in a desperate bid to escape.

“I told you: don’t touch him right now.” An edge of displeasure laced Zhao Ran’s lowered tone. Its fingertips tapped incessantly against the floorboards, as if repenting for its crimes, kowtowing in apology.

With a loud pop, the severed hand burst under his sole like a fish bladder. Debris splattered across the floor and wall, but rapidly dissolved into a puff of crimson mist, vanishing completely.

A wave of ache traveled back to Zhao Ran’s own hand. He asked in a frosty voice: “Who else can’t hold back?”

Witnessing this, the hands lurking in every dark crevice of the room retreated into the shadows in terror, poking out only tiny slivers of fingertips to observe in secret.

By the time Yu An stepped out of the washroom, Zhao Ran had long since departed.

“…A bit embarrassing, but whatever, forget about it.” Yu An tousled his messy hair, suddenly remembering the pet hand he had forgotten in his backpack.

Running to the entryway, he found his shoulder bag resting where he left it, while the Pure Black Hood suit had already been laundered, dried, and neatly folded upon the counter.

Unzipping the shoulder bag, the right hand was sleeping soundly. Rolling over, its pinky scratched the palm lazily.

“Not bad, still alive.” Yu An picked up the right hand and dashed into the washroom.

Jostled awake, the right hand twitched groggily, before a jet of cold water poured over it, making it shudder violently.

“I was too exhausted yesterday and nearly forgot about you.” Yu An held the right hand under the running tap, scrubbing away the grime on its skin while avoiding the wounds as much as possible. Gradually growing accustomed to it, the right hand rested its head comfortably between its thumb and pinky, relishing the shower.

Once the filthy blood was completely rinsed away, Yu An gave it two shakes and tore off some paper towel to pat it dry.

The right hand spat out bits of paper debris with disgust.

Finding the first aid kit, Yu An retrieved antiseptic alcohol and disinfected the right hand’s wounds one by one, making the hand twitch and recoil in pain.

“Hold still. If it gets infected, you’ll rot away.” To keep it from squirming, Yu An clamped the right hand firmly between his thighs, holding it steady with one hand while swabbing it with alcohol-soaked cotton balls using the other.

As he dabbed the alcohol, he glanced around at the furniture behind him from time to time.

In truth, ever since stepping into this villa, he had felt a strange sensation, as if other eyes were watching him from somewhere in the house, making his skin prickle slightly.

The little hands hid sneakily in the gaps between furniture, poking out fingertips to peek; the instant Yu An turned his head, they snapped back into hiding.

While Yu An was busy, his phone alerted him to an incoming message from the interviewer.

Boss: “…What are you doing?”

Disinfecting my pet hand’s wounds. Yu An paused, wondering if Underground Railway forbade employees from keeping such little monsters. Better not confess. He brushed it off with a casual excuse: “Watching a movie.”

Boss: “Don’t watch indecent movies.”

“??” Yu An looked thoroughly bewildered. What was indecent about it? I said watching a movie, not watching smut.

The interviewer was probably worried about his computer catching a virus. Never mind, time to head home; that way the man wouldn’t have to worry about his house getting dismantled while he was out.

Yu An changed into his clothes, placed the right hand onto his shoulder, picked up his backpack, walked outside, and locked the door behind him.

The moment the door clicked shut, rustling noises broke out in every corner of the villa. The hands concealed in nooks and crannies scrambled out and crowded by the window, watching through the glass as Yu An left, looking with envy at the right hand perched on Yu An’s shoulder. Some hands excitedly pressed their thumbs and pinkies over their flushed palms, peering through their fingers to admire Yu An with absolute adoration.

Meanwhile, the right hand stood proudly upon Yu An’s shoulder, conveying its immense honor to its xiongdi and meimei watching from the window.

With over three hours left before his appointment with Officer Ye, heading all the way back home wasn’t worth the trip. Yu An decided to wander through a nearby shopping mall to kill time.

Stepping into the mall lobby, the mingling scents of perfume counters washed over him as upbeat music reverberated through the hall.

At nine in the morning, the mall had just opened, leaving only a handful of scattered shoppers on the first floor. Yu An walked to the beat of the music as if nobody were around, carrying the right hand past the cosmetics counters.

The right hand perched curiously before a nail polish tester stand, pointing toward the hot-selling item: “Glitter Barbie Pink.”

“Unique taste. Let me get some for you to try.” Yu An unscrewed the cap, hoisted the right hand up before him, and brushed it across the nails.

Once painted, the right hand strutted before the mirror, showing off and striking a few poses.

“Not bad.” Yu An sank a shot like a basketball player, dropping the nail polish brush cleanly back into the bottle, screwed the cap tight, and strolled over to the jewelry counter.

The right hand tugged Yu An toward a glittering, heavy gold bangle, clinging to the glass in sheer fascination. Yu An checked the price tag: 58,000.

“Too tacky. Pick another one. Go for a thinner one.”

Yu An was in a great mood until he spotted a saleswoman walking toward him. He promptly clamped his mouth shut and fled with aloof haste.

While he was wandering about aimlessly, Zhao Ran was sitting in the lobby of the Grey Crow Game Company, resting his forehead on both hands as he dozed.

Holding files by the table, his subordinate Xiao Qi glanced at his watch and offered a flat reminder: “Their general manager will be here shortly. You should at least put on your tie.”

“Yeah. Once we finish questioning them, I’m heading back to catch up on sleep.” Zhao Ran half-opened his eyes, yawned, pulled his tie from his pocket, and draped it around his collar.

The brat in his bed was ridiculously clingy, with terrible sleeping posture to boot: throwing his legs over someone else, snuggling his head right against the side of their neck, his warm breath coupled with occasional, unprompted murmurs: pure torture.

His subordinate Xiao An held a notepad questioning several game company staff members, while Zhao Ran stole a moment of leisure to check his phone now and then.

Beneath the leather glove, the palm of his right hand tingled with a phantom itch, as if someone were holding it.

That rascal had to be playing with Lipu again.

He had already guessed that Lipu was kept by Yu An, but he couldn’t very well bring it up; he could only wait for Lipu to find a chance to scurry back on its own. Then again, Yu An seemed quite fond of it; letting him play with it for a few days was harmless enough.

Zhao Ran held back for a while, before finally asking Yu An what he was up to.

The kid actually claimed he was watching a movie? What kind of movie required three hands to watch? The more Zhao Ran thought about it, the more suspicious it felt, his mind flooded with imagery unfit for minors.

So Zhao Ran warned him against watching. Mainly against watching with Lipu; watching with himself was perfectly fine.

About an hour later, Zhao Ran finished his tasks and checked his phone once more.

A nine-photo grid refreshed on his feed.

Posted by Yu An.

Opening it, Zhao Ran perked up instantly.

Judging by the background, the kid was in a café, seated across from a bejeweled, bedazzled severed hand holding a coffee mug with its pinky perched high.

A date? With whom? Zhao Ran tightened his grip on the phone without realizing it.

Looking closer, that gaudily dressed hand seemed very familiar.

Was that… Lipu?

Apart from the café, they had visited a toy store and an accessory shop. That damned Lipu threw up peace signs in one photo and formed a finger heart in the next, thoroughly hogging the spotlight.

As Zhao Ran scrolled through, his face turned from pale to red and then to blue. Suddenly the images vanished, replaced by a message: “You do not have permission to view this content.”

Yu An had probably just remembered he had his superior on his friend list and promptly blocked Zhao Ran from his feed.

“Treacherous bastard…” Blinded by jealousy, steam shot from Zhao Ran’s head like a locomotive whistle. He slammed the phone down so hard the screen shattered across the table, scattering promotional flyers into the air until a green sheet floated down to rest atop Zhao Ran’s head.

“Kaopu, go bring that traitor Lipu back to me!”

Receiving its orders, the left hand swept coldly across the phone screen, slipped from Zhao Ran’s sleeve into the ventilation duct, and scuttled away in silence.

Arriving at the mall from the photos, the left hand blended into the crowd of shoppers, resting casually against the escalator handrail. None of the hurried commuters noticed a severed hand unattached to any human body resting along the belt.

Reaching the floor where the café was located, the left hand hopped off the escalator to resume tracking its target. Keeping its back to the wall, it nimbly darted between the scattered steps of customers, avoiding open areas where it might be spotted, before rounding a corner.

The left hand observed with icy calm, analyzing coolly, only to encounter an unexpected scene when it turned the bend.

Propping its pinky against the wall, the right hand was leaning diagonally before the left hand, striking glamorous poses. Its five fingernails glittered with brilliant nail polish, while its fingers sported four or five rings of various widths, the large gemstone rings dazzling enough to blind.

Wearing tiny sunglasses bought from a claw-machine shop, the right hand smugly flicked the chunky gold chain draped around its wrist, greeting the left hand in silence: “Hey, bro.”

The left hand punched it squarely in the face.