EM CH41

Chapter 41: Taking Off the Gloves

Zhao Ran stood straight up, cradling Yu An’s thighs as he carried him back into the bedroom, flipping off the overhead light along the way.

Yu An swiftly reached out and switched the light back on.

“Stop messing around.”

“Why? Are you shy, or do you not want to see my face?” Tilting his head, Yu An gazed intently into his eyes, trying to see whether the figure reflected in Zhao Ran’s pupils was himself or someone else.

The color of those pupils was far too pale and translucent—so much so that even the shadows reflected within them were blurred.

Yu An gradually compromised amidst the man’s hesitation, turning off the light. Pressing his cool cheek against Zhao Ran’s nearly scorching skin, he let out a soft laugh in the dark: “I don’t care.”

“Nonsense.” Left with no choice, Zhao Ran pressed the overhead light back on. His eyes and hair, which had gradually deepened toward crimson in the dark, rapidly drained of color starting from the crown of his head.

Holding Yu An, he leaned back against the headboard pillows. Yu An wasted no time peeling off the glove on his right hand, clamping his teeth onto the fingertips and tugging backward.

“What’s the rush?” Slipping the fingertips of his left hand beneath Yu An’s pajama shirt, Zhao Ran rested them against the small of his back.

A pale hand emerged from the glove, every joint slender and strong. Owing to years shielded from sunlight, the texture of the skin was fine and smooth.

Scrutinizing this flawless hand earnestly, Yu An pressed his own hand against it to compare; his fingers were a joint shorter, and his palm was a full size smaller.

“Why do you wear gloves all the time? Can’t you take them off once you’re home?”

“Because…” Distracted by the sensation of their palms pressed together, Zhao Ran answered absentmindedly, “they’re dirty. Around the house, it’s too easy to brush against you.”

“You think I’m dirty?” Yu An frowned.

No.

That wasn’t what he meant.

“Fine then.” Narrowing his eyes, Yu An threaded his fingers between Zhao Ran’s and locked them tight, his face brimming with the thrill of destruction.

Lowering his head, he licked the tip of Zhao Ran’s finger. The fingertip flushed red instantaneously, the color spreading rapidly upward.

A muffled groan barely caught in his throat, Zhao Ran clenched his jaw involuntarily, yet still failed to hold back. Tiny pores abruptly contracted open at the tips of all five fingers, dense pink tendrils extending more than ten centimeters outward, swaying in midair as if alive.

Translucent, bead-like globules sprouted at the tips of the tendrils, secreting infectious proteins outward; whenever the pearl-like sacs encasing the infective substance ruptured, viscous fluid seeped free.

Stunned into stillness, Yu An stared at these bizarre tendrils glowing faintly like optical fibers.

“…Don’t be afraid.” Zhao Ran pulled his hand back, resting it on the mattress far away from Yu An.

“Huo Yangui mutated slightly in appearance because he embedded an Aberrated Species core. Is it the same for you?” Widening his eyes in thirst for knowledge, Yu An brimmed with curiosity.

“Mm.” Since the boy had already handed him a ready-made excuse, Zhao Ran smoothly rode the slope down and brushed past it.

“Were you born with guts this big?” Rolling over abruptly, he pinned the brat who thought he held all the cards beneath him. “Not even scared of this.”

…

At first, Yu An indulged in it with effortless ease, yet as time wore on, he wrapped his arms tighter and tighter around Zhao Ran’s neck, a tearful choke creeping into his voice.

Those pervasive, inescapable tendrils were terrifying beyond measure—coiling violently, piercing inward, incessantly releasing bizarre infective substances that carried an intense, overwhelming sting.

“It hurts, Interviewer… my stomach hurts, let me go.”

“What do you call me?”

“Ran… Ran-ge.”

“Did you deliberately cause trouble for me during equipment calibration today?”

“…”

“Did you do it on purpose?”

“Yes. I wanted you to come back early.”

Zhao Ran let out an almost imperceptible chuckle. That unexpected answer pleased him immensely.

Bright light interfered slightly with his vision; only in the deepest darkness could he clearly discern every subtle flicker of expression on Yu An’s face.

A tear hung precariously from the tip of Yu An’s nose, all his cold, malicious demeanor crumbling away amidst his choked sobs.

“Alright.” Zhao Ran patted his back gently. “No more. Looking so pitiful.”

Yu An gave a faint shudder, his tense body gradually relaxing until he went completely limp in Zhao Ran’s arms.

Switching off the light, Zhao Ran stroked him quietly. Faint streaks of blood clung to the fingertip tendrils; having secreted an ample amount of infectious protein, they grew calm once more, retracting contentedly back inside his fingertips.

Upon the small of Yu An’s back where he could not see, the sun totem woven from countless intertwined arms surfaced once again, appearing a fraction clearer than before.

A prolonged silence lingered in the bedroom. Yu An hadn’t fallen asleep; instead, he abruptly spoke up to break the quiet.

“Ran-ge, I forgot where I came from.”

Fragmented memories left a person’s mind holding a misaligned perception of the world.

“I also forgot my purpose for living. It’s as if my body automatically urges me to get close to you and dig up your secrets.”

“You’re always telling me to behave. I don’t get it—why didn’t you go find someone obedient instead? Finding me doesn’t just mean you like the disobedient type, does it?”

Zhao Ran let out a sigh: “I’m simply placing my hopes on you. You’re the intern I… took under my wing, so naturally I want what’s best for you.”

Zhao Ran had already tried the disobedient path before: driving him to grow stronger by any means necessary, throwing him into the Colosseum Illusion Chamber to slaughter his way out. Unexpectedly, the kid had fallen in love with that violence-soaked arena, sneaking off to roam inside it constantly. Over the years, malice and bloodlust soaked into him from bone to skin, making every living creature that drew near tremble in terror even at his young age. Someone like that was already dangerous enough on his own; if he also obtained a powerful Aberrant obeying his every whim and ran rampant, he would swiftly draw universal wrath. This world was teeming with experts and formidable weapons—concentrated fire aimed at a single target was enough to reduce him to ash.

Yet Zhao Ran had also tried the overly obedient path: attending school dutifully, docile as a puppy, fond of hiding in a small room tinkering with instruments and playing video games—only to stand trembling with a knife in hand during the final confrontation before turning tail and running away.

“Then what do you want me to do?” Exhausted, Yu An closed his eyes.

“Train. Grow strong—to the point where you’re capable of killing me.” Zhao Ran gave his waist a light squeeze. “Don’t turn evil enough to destroy heaven and earth, and don’t turn kind enough to be soft and fragile.”

“Okay…” Half-asleep, Yu An sprawled across Zhao Ran’s chest.

“Mm, good boy.”

“What… what a classic set of client demands.”