A poison-quenched dagger?
Fu Songcheng savored Yu Huaiting’s evaluation on his tongue. He lifted his chin slightly, a distinct, utterly justified pride spreading through his cool brows and eyes.
He’d always known what kind of person he was.
He looked gentle and courteous, but he was no good man.
Yu Huaiting hadn’t used sticky, vulgar words to praise him—yet his evaluation had thoroughly pleased Fu Songcheng.
Fu Songcheng even felt that Yu Huaiting, though usually looking unruly and careless, actually read him very accurately.
“Good eye.”
The corner of Fu Songcheng’s lips curved—a smile carrying a touch of arrogance, yet undisguised admiration.
He stepped forward, closing the distance between them.
Under Yu Huaiting’s somewhat expectant gaze, Fu Songcheng raised his hand and placed his palm on top of Yu Huaiting’s head, rubbing it neither too hard nor too soft twice.
Yu Huaiting’s hair was softer than expected, the slightly messy strands brushing against Fu Songcheng’s knuckles, a little ticklish.
Yu Huaiting followed the force of Fu Songcheng’s palm, shamelessly pushing his head forward, even cooperatively squinting his eyes.
“That’s it? Your reward is way too bland, isn’t it?”
Yu Huaiting smacked his lips, pushing his luck with a hint. “I’ve been this sincere—shouldn’t it at least come with a ‘give myself to you’ or something…”
“Fishing for praise.”
Fu Songcheng withdrew his hand without mercy, and casually curled a finger to flick Yu Huaiting’s forehead.
Yu Huaiting let out an exaggerated hiss, covering his forehead and looking at him aggrievedly.
Seeing Yu Huaiting’s clowning manner, Fu Songcheng lowered his eyes, pressing down the trace of doubt in his heart about the “emotional interference module.”
Yu Huaiting’s affection was indeed complete—from disgust to curiosity, from curiosity to being drawn to him.
Fu Songcheng was confident that he could attract the youth before him.
The system might indeed have some mechanism for amplifying emotions, but if there were absolutely no fondness as a foundation, it couldn’t fabricate such vivid feelings out of thin air.
At least the Yu Huaiting before him—his candor was real.
And that was already expensive enough.
Fu Songcheng turned and walked to the pile of ashes that had once been the soul-guiding formation, lightly nudging the cinnabar traces on the floor with his toe.
“Can you still guide souls?”
Fu Songcheng turned to look at Yu Huaiting. “Chen Yu could escape because his teammate Lin Feng was pulling from the other side. But the NPC ghosts wandering the Yu residence have no teammates.”
He paused, then made his demand as if it were only natural: “Draw another soul-guiding formation. This time, don’t catch a player—just grab any wandering lonely ghost in the Yu residence and interrogate it about what’s hidden in that always-locked side room.”
Since Yu Huaiting could trap even Chen Yu, who had items, catching an ordinary little ghost for questioning should be no problem.
However, he waited a few seconds and heard no response from Yu Huaiting.
Fu Songcheng turned and found that Yu Huaiting had at some point retreated to the edge of the bed.
He’d flopped onto his back on the soft bridal bed with no dignity at all, limbs spread out like a salted fish drained of all moisture.
“Can’t draw anymore. Really, not a single drop left.”
Yet Yu Huaiting’s voice sounded quite energetic—he even threw Fu Songcheng a flirtatious wink.
Fu Songcheng suppressed a laugh at his state and walked to the bedside. “Weren’t you just full of life, demanding I give myself to you?”
“Brother Fu, if I could keep guiding souls, Chen Yu wouldn’t have escaped.”
Only then did Fu Songcheng notice Yu Huaiting’s complexion. Though it wasn’t obvious in the dim light of the room, those lips that usually carried a bit of arrogant color were now, indeed, somewhat pale.
Fu Songcheng’s heart lurched.
He was used to Yu Huaiting’s effortless, couldn’t-be-bothered-even-if-the-sky-fell attitude, so much so that he’d subconsciously assumed that a formation trapping an opposing-faction soul-body player with a few strokes of cinnabar was nothing to Yu Huaiting.
But how could it not be taxing?
He himself couldn’t even activate this formation, yet Yu Huaiting had maintained it for a full twenty-plus minutes.
If he hadn’t proposed drawing another formation, Yu Huaiting probably would have kept hiding his weakness behind that careless smile, never mentioning it.
Silly dog.
“You…”
Fu Songcheng pressed his lips together, and for a moment actually didn’t know what to say. Scold him for showing off? Or blame himself for not observing carefully enough?
He shifted his gaze away in annoyance and changed the subject stiffly: “If you’re tired, say so. Pretending with me?”
Though the words carried barbs, Fu Songcheng casually grabbed a thin blanket from beside them and tossed it over Yu Huaiting.
Yu Huaiting hugged the blanket and let out a low chuckle, radiating the smug pleasure of having gotten his way: “Worried about me, Brother Fu.”
“I’m mourning the loss of a useful laborer.”
Fu Songcheng pulled a chair over and sat by the bed, legs crossed. “Since we can’t keep drawing formations, we’ll have to use your method.”
Yu Huaiting perked up, hugging the blanket and lying on his side to look at Fu Songcheng. “How so?”
“Aren’t you best at violent clears?”
Fu Songcheng’s slender fingers tapped lightly on his knee. “We smash the lock and go straight in.”
“I’m the Yu residence’s newly married Young Madam. You’re the Yu residence’s Young Master. If smashing a door gets judged by the system as breaking the rules, then we might as well just surrender.”
Yu Huaiting listened to Fu Songcheng’s analysis, his eyes growing brighter and brighter.
He’d never been one for roundabout schemes to begin with—anything that could be solved by force, he’d always been too lazy to think through.
The reason he’d held back before was entirely out of fear of being scolded by Fu Songcheng.
Now that Fu Songcheng had given the order, what did he have to worry about?
“I said we should just go in directly from the start, heh.”
Yu Huaiting swept away his weakness and returned to himself. He bounced straight off the bed and backhanded his greatsword out.
Holding the sword one-handed, he rolled his neck, his joints cracking.
Watching Yu Huaiting instantly resurrect at full health, as if ready at any moment to go demolish something, Fu Songcheng suddenly doubted whether his earlier pang of sympathy had been entirely unnecessary.
“Strength recovered?” Fu Songcheng looked at him with a half-smile.
“Enough strength to smash a door.”
Yu Huaiting leaned close to Fu Songcheng, eager to try. “When do we move?”
“Midnight.”
Fu Songcheng glanced at the deep night outside the window. “Going to the side room at this hour—even if we alert the servants, their reaction speed will be half a beat slower.”
Yu Huaiting rested the greatsword on his shoulder and circled around Fu Songcheng. “You think smashing the door open, there’ll be story fragments inside?”
“Probably.”
Fu Songcheng stood up. “You take the greatsword and split the door open. If something comes lunging out from inside—whatever it is, you’re in charge of chopping it back. I’m in charge of finding clues.”
“Tsk tsk tsk, truly putting everything to its fullest use.”
Though Yu Huaiting grumbled verbally, the excitement in his eyes was impossible to hide.
…
The night wind poured through the gaps in the window, stirring the tattered red wedding curtains.
Less than half an hour remained until midnight.
This deep, mansion compound of the Yu residence—seemingly already dead—was about to welcome two masters who had no intention of playing by the rules and were preparing to use physical means to forcibly advance the plot.
“Get ready.”
Though Fu Songcheng had said he’d let Yu Huaiting handle the front, he was making his own preparations too.
“Young Master Yu.” Fu Songcheng spun the dagger in a pretty flourish at his fingertips and walked toward the door first. “Let me see what secrets are hidden in your mansion.”
Yu Huaiting shouldered his sword and followed behind, watching Fu Songcheng’s straight back, the corners of his mouth lifting uncontrollably.
“Coming, Young Madam.”
Yu Huaiting answered softly.
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