Yes, he had a husband in the script… Shan Qi realized that his peculiar task arose from taking on the identity of a “lover.”
Hence it was an “affair.”
“Are you ready?” Yan Chuan asked again.
“Yes, I’m ready,” Shan Qi replied hastily, feeling a tingle in his scalp.
Yan Chuan stepped closer and suddenly tugged at his collar, “Keep your head down a bit.”
His tone was completely natural: “I can’t reach you.”
Shan Qi complied.
With such a large physique, he obediently lowered his head to allow Yan Chuan to get close enough. It was like being a big dog effortlessly restrained by its owner’s lead.
His ears turned red, and his cheeks followed suit. He held his breath, clearly nervous.
Shan Qi was indeed very anxious.
Yan Chuan’s demeanour was too calm. He couldn’t bring himself to tell Yan Chuan that this was his first kiss.
Yes, his first kiss.
It was somewhat funny; Shan Qi had never thought about dating anyone before. After entering this life-threatening variety show, it had become even more impossible. Yet now, just hearing Yan Chuan say he wanted to kiss him made him this nervous.
Out of Yan Chuan’s sight, Shan Qi’s palms were already white from clenching too tightly.
He nervously and confusedly asked, “Should I close my eyes… No, should you close your eyes?”
“Can you reach if you do that…”
“I…”
Generally speaking, one should close their eyes when kissing; Shan Qi’s thoughts were a jumble. But Yan Chuan was coming in to kiss him without closing his eyes—should he close his?
However, he had heard that the one who initiates a kiss should take the lead. Shouldn’t he be the one to kiss Yan Chuan first? How did they end up in this scenario?
As Yan Chuan drew nearer, Shan Qi’s brain stopped thinking entirely, his gaze fixated on Yan Chuan’s soft, red lips.
He had never kissed anyone before and usually didn’t pay attention to what others’ lips looked like. Now that Yan Chuan was so close, he could feel the warmth of his breath and see the moist tip of his tongue.
Do two people kiss with their tongues? They aren’t familiar enough for such intimate contact, right?
Extending the tongue would be too stimulating…
The lips were so close that Shan Qi could see the delicate and flawless skin near Yan Chuan’s cheeks.
That place must be soft, very soft and easy to kiss… Wait… why was Yan Chuan not shy at all?
Had he kissed someone before? Why did he seem so experienced?
Suddenly, Shan Qi’s heart felt a pang of sadness.
“Whatever you like,” said Yan Chuan, his rosy lips parting to deliver a nonchalant remark: “You talk too much.”
Shan Qi’s face flushed as he closed his mouth.
But the next moment, Yan Chuan wrapped his arms around Shan Qi’s neck and pressed close.
In the summer heat, thin clothing offered no cover; he could clearly feel the other person’s body heat.
Yan Chuan, with a smaller frame, was slender and fragile, easily fitting into his embrace.
The bathroom was cramped, and with their bodies in this position, Yan Chuan was so close that their breaths intertwined.
He wasn’t wearing shoes and stepped directly on Shan Qi’s feet with his bare, pale soles. His wrist circled Shan Qi’s neck, delicate fingers still tugging at his collar.
Shan Qi’s muscles tightened, and he was rudely touched.
Yan Chuan eyed this handsome buzz-cut guy and felt that if he kept talking, he might explode from awkwardness, so he steadfastly leaned in.
He tightened his grip around Shan Qi’s neck, tilting his head slightly. The damp ends of his hair fell onto Shan Qi’s pale neck, and his soft lips brushed against Shan Qi’s.
It was brief, a fleeting contact like a dragonfly touching the surface of water.
Gentle as an elusive dream.
The bathroom lightbulb was old, so the illumination wasn’t clear. But Shan Qi clearly saw Yan Chuan’s changing expression.
Including his furrowed brows, quivering eyelashes, the high bridge of his nose, and his flawless white skin.
A kiss.
A fleeting kiss.
Shan Qi’s mind went blank.
Merely pressing their lips together, not doing anything else, felt like tasting something extremely sweet; sweetness overflowed between their lips and tongues.
Before Shan Qi could recover from this unexpected treat, Yan Chuan’s warm arms released him, along with those lips carrying a hint of sultry fragrance.
Yan Chuan returned to the distance he had maintained while speaking, without a hint of embarrassment on his face.
It barely counted as a hug and a kiss.
“Alright.”
He gestured for Shan Qi to speak, adopting a scoundrel’s expression of feigned ignorance: “Now you can tell me about the survival variety show.”
Shan Qi had a decent understanding of the survival variety show.
As Yan Chuan walked up the stairs, he recalled the information that Shan Qi had shared.
There were many contestants in the survival show, with an internal forum maintaining a ranking board based on points accumulated by each contestant to gauge their strength.
The contestant at the top of the leaderboard was named Su Jian, with hundreds of thousands of points. He was far ahead, though very few knew his true identity.
The name Su Jian lingered on Yan Chuan’s tongue for a moment.
He couldn’t remember the list of names that followed and intended to look them up later in the forum.
Shan Qi mentioned that the tasks in the survival show were issued based on scripts and each contestant’s identity, varied in form, and typically related to the script. They were mandatory options that must be completed.
He also informed Yan Chuan that the survival show was purely for the audience’s entertainment; they were all actors on stage. From the moment they correctly matched their identities, it was predetermined who would be the cannon fodder and who would survive until the end.
Moreover, the audience often treated contestants harshly, deriving their enjoyment from the contestants’ suffering; points and rewards were also used to command contestants to their doom.
Yan Chuan fell into deep thought.
Did that mean the identity he had received was the most likely to encounter danger?
At first glance, it bore obvious emotional complications, and the identity of the “husband” might also be an NPC.