“Did you not only do something improper but also leave marks?”
Yan Chuan paused for a moment and adjusted his collar upward. “It might have gotten scratched somehow.”
Hesse appeared to want to say something, but Yan Chuan urged him, “It’s just a scratch; the mark will be gone by tomorrow. Hurry and sleep.”
Suddenly, Hesse, pushed by Yan Chuan to sleep quickly:…
Yan Chuan pulled his collar up, now he couldn’t see anything. He could only see the long, fair skin of his neck, which covered the originally prominent collarbones.
Pressed to sleep, Hesse reluctantly lay down to rest, though he still had some doubts in his heart.
Could one get scratched in such a way without realizing it?
The next day.
When Yan Chuan woke up in the morning, he felt that something was very wrong.
The routine in the Prison Isolation Island was very strict; according to custom, at the designated time, guards would prevent them from going to their assigned places.
But today, that didn’t happen. The guards were pacing around, anxiously talking about something.
The inmates, unsure about what was happening, could only wait in their cells.
Yan Chuan was no exception, but his worry was tinged with fear of being discovered for doing something wrong.
The stamp was still lying under his pillow; Yan Chuan had no other place to hide things and could only shove them into the corners of his cell.
Yan Chuan tidied his bed and looked through the bars to see what the guards were doing outside.
The cells in the Isolation Island Prison felt very enclosed, with small bars, about ten centimeters apart, separated by a few centimeters thick space.
Through the narrow bars, Yan Chuan saw the guards dragging something out of one of the cells.
Wrapped up, it was vaguely recognizable as a human shape.
Yan Chuan furrowed his brows.
A dark stain seeped through the bottom of the bag, with the scent of rust lingering in the air.
It was blood.
Meanwhile, the guards were still dealing with a chaotic cell.
Yan Chuan couldn’t see which cell had a problem; he could only hear occasional sounds of vomiting from afar.
It seemed the situation was dire.
After an uncertain amount of time, the guards finally remembered to calm their confused group of inmates.
A burly guard came over to check each inmate in their cells, pounding his baton heavily against the iron doors, harshly warning them not to look or think too much.
The guards also didn’t tell them what had happened; they didn’t even open the cell doors.
Because of this incident, all morning activities were canceled.
Compared to the clueless inmates who were whispering among themselves, Yan Chuan appeared much calmer.
Since they couldn’t go out… he might as well take a shower first.
Yan Chuan mentioned this to Hesse, telling him he wanted to shower.
Then he turned to grab his clothes and a plastic basin, heading to the bathroom to prepare to wash.
Cold water flowed down with a rush.
At this moment, there was no hot water available; Yan Chuan grimaced, planning to finish quickly.
If it weren’t for the dirt on him from yesterday and encountering a monster from the script… he wouldn’t be taking a cold shower first thing in the morning.
The tiles in the bathroom became fogged up.
Yan Chuan had felt uncomfortable when he went to sleep last night.
The places that had been touched by the “monster” weren’t just the side of his neck pointed out by Hesse last night, but also his chest.
The chilling sensation from when it touched him was extremely slippery and cool, and after a while, it turned into a slightly irritating itch.
Especially in the area that had slightly swollen, a dull ache throbbed.
Yan Chuan bit his lip, furrowing his brow as he looked down at himself.
Then his eyes widened, a hint of confusion appearing on his face.
Marks resembling fingerprints dotted the smooth, pale area, extending to even the most hidden parts.
Not looking had been fine; Yan Chuan could convince himself it was an illusion. But now, not only the front of his chest was marked, but also in places difficult to mention.
Yan Chuan’s figure was slender, with a boyish thin chest.
His waist was thin and firm with no excess flesh, delicate enough to be grasped with a single hand.
His chest was slightly prominent, still not filling a palm. The color there was very light, resembling delicate new petals.
His skin was fair, like a piece of milk jelly resting in a dish, softly trembling.
Now, it was all covered in marks.
He didn’t know what kind of monster had wrapped around him when he followed Hesse to check the abandoned room, leaving these traces with such blatant actions.
It felt as if someone had played with him, pinching and squeezing the slightly swollen area on his chest, as if it hadn’t fully developed.
No wonder it felt so uncomfortable.
The showerhead was still running, and the cold water dripped down his neck, making Yan Chuan shiver.
A night’s time hadn’t made the marks disappear completely; instead, they deepened, becoming more noticeable against his white skin.
It still hurt a little; Yan Chuan cautiously touched it, causing another slight shiver.
He pursed his lips; the excitement of completing the task was gone, replaced by a single thought.
Why can’t he just log out of the variety show?
Can’t he give up on the script? Why did they have to make him face so many perverts!
[How could this happen with the wife’s… ]
[I’m just an elementary school student, let me squeeze a couple of times! I’m sucking, sucking, sucking!]
[Can you all see this? Why is my screen full of mosaics?]
[Oh no, how could the escape variety show let us see this? This is all a collective imagination! Last night, Yan Baobao must have been bullied by the monster! ]
[No one cares that there’s a foolish dog outside the door.]
When Hesse saw Yan Chuan come out, he reflexively took a towel, intending to dry Yan Chuan’s hair.
However, the mood of the Oriental beauty seemed rather poor.
His little face was tense, lips slightly turned down, and his expression was cold and indifferent.
His damp black hair was pushed back, drops of water still clinging to his snow-white cheeks.