Yan Chuan did not know the motives of the supernatural being stalking him, nor could he figure out why he had been targeted since the very beginning.
Thinking about Zhou Wu’s panicked face, Yan Chuan pursed his lips. Was it because their identities in the script had close relationships with NPCs? The “wife” that scared Zhou Wu was him in the script. Could last night’s figure be his “husband”?
Yan Chuan glanced at the old-fashioned mobile phone placed on the cabinet and thought for a moment before editing a message to send.
“Come back earlier, I miss you so much, husband.”
Typing out the message made Yan Chuan’s face flush once again. He had never referred to anyone as “husband” before and never imagined he would use it for an NPC in a reality show.
But if things went as expected, his unseen husband would be returning tonight. At that point, it would be easy to tell if the figure was a human or a ghost. If it was human, it would be strange; if it was a ghost, a quick reveal would be necessary.
Understanding this, Yan Chuan touched his slightly warm cheek and began tidying up his bedroom. He went to the bathroom to grab cleaning tools, sweeping the floor absentmindedly.
Suddenly, Yan Chuan noticed a large dark stain in his line of sight. Following it, he discovered it was a puddle of blood, located just beside the bed. A bit further in was the shape of a footprint, with the shoe print’s pattern indistinct. The blood hadn’t dried completely yet, suggesting someone had stood there for a long time, watching the sleeping figure on the bed.
That “thing” from last night.
What a close distance it was—close enough to reach out and tightly grasp that delicate, white neck, stealing the breath away.
Yan Chuan calmly fetched the cleaning tools.
Clean water diluted the bloodstain, transforming it into murky red water, and fortunately, it hadn’t dried and was easy to wash away.
He sincerely played the role of a gentle wife, cleaning up as soon as he noticed the mess. After a while, he stood up, beads of perspiration forming at his temples. Letting out a breath, just as he put the cleaning tools back, he spotted a small splash of light red blood on his skirt.
Oh no.
Yan Chuan frowned. He was a bit of a neat freak; he usually had to change clothes and take a shower if he got even a speck of dust on himself, let alone now.
The bloodstain wasn’t large, but it was especially noticeable against the pure white skirt, dulling the fabric.
Yan Chuan desperately wanted to shower.
Cleaning had made him sweat a bit, and he might have even accrued some dust on himself—this outfit was already soiled.
However, having a one-bedroom apartment left little space for a washroom and a small kitchen; there was nowhere to bathe.
The washroom was cramped and poorly lit, and Yan Chuan didn’t want to shower in such a place.
At the end of the apartment was a public bathhouse.
Just then, a chilling mechanical voice echoed in his mind.
[Task One Triggered: Go to the end of the corridor to take a shower.]
[A young and attractive wife, after finishing her chores, realizes that she’s gotten dirty. She feels troubled and decides to bathe. Will she use her charm to request someone to bathe with her?]
Yan Chuan: …What kind of description is that?
There was no need to think; he had to go to the bathhouse.
He gathered a change of clothes and found a clean towel and basin.
Fortunately, he had observed the bathhouse on the way; it was divided into separate stalls that offered surprisingly decent privacy.
Moreover, at this hour, it was unlikely anyone else would be using the bathhouse.
“Whoosh.”
A light flickered on in a bathroom at the end of the corridor. The pipe was rusted, taking a long time to flow hot water once turned on.
The water was clean and clear, fit for bathing.
Yan Chuan tested the water temperature, confirmed it was suitable, and then pulled the curtain of the stall shut.
Before undressing, he took a glance at the live broadcast room to ensure he had entered privacy protection before stepping in.
The screen would go black during contestants’ bathing and dressing privacy moments but not when encountering supernatural beings or being chased; Yan Chuan thought this was a dark humour of escape reality shows.
A little kind-hearted but not too much.
He placed the towel and change of clothes in a plastic bag to prevent them from getting wet.
There were only a few wearable outfits in the wardrobe; if it came down to it, he would have to shamelessly wear an ill-fitting shirt.
As the steam filled the room, his delicate white fingers reached back to untie the straps slowly shedding the dress he wore.
The dress was quite fitted, with a zipper at the back and a cinching strap that made it rather troublesome to put on and take off.
More important was what was underneath.
Yan Chuan’s eyelashes fluttered nervously.
The escape reality show had not taken care of him, providing unsuitable yet overly intimate clothing for someone of his identity.
After a moment of stuttering sounds, the white dress was tossed aside into the basin, still wrapped around something inside.
[The little Yan is so guarded… Why can’t even an upright man be spared the guard against wailing? I want to see those legs and that waist.]
[It’s fine; I can listen to the sounds and imagine how my wife bathes. I’m the most obedient little puppy!”
“(Walking around) (Peeking through the door crack) (Salivating) (Charging at my wife) (300 grams is my love for her weight) (Getting caught) (Bruised and battered) (Screaming as I’m flushed down the drain)]
[I’m curious about what my wife is wearing underneath. She’s already in a dress; it can’t be a triangle shape, right…]
The bathroom was divided into small stalls, quiet except for the sound of flowing water.
Inside was tiled, the walls already covered in beads of water that pooled into drops before rolling down.
The stall’s curtain was not long, reaching about knee height, leaving the rest exposed. It was fortunate the bathhouse was small overall, as the heat did not easily dissipate.
Steam enveloped the room, the light somewhat blurry. The tiles reflected light, and one could vaguely see the delicate, moving shadow inside.
A fair-skinned, smooth arm reached out, cupping warm water close to the face to wash away the stains.