Chapter 29: The Intrusion of Curiosity

Yet, if it were someone like Tang Zhen, who had a predatory approach towards contestants, it would be exceptionally useful.
Tang Zhen’s gaze swept over Yan Chuan inch by inch.
His medium-length black hair fell loosely, framing his beautiful little face, which appeared especially small nestled in the soft bedding.
With skin as white as snow, even the elbows and knees were brushed with a faint blush. Smooth and delicate, his skin resembled the finest silk.
He was in a deep sleep, his slightly upturned nose wrinkled ever so slightly. His soft lips seemed to beckon a curious finger to explore their texture.
And indeed, Tang Zhen did just that.
The skill card was effective for an hour; they still had ample time left.
His slender fingers approached the soft lips, initially caressing with slightly calloused fingertips. Even after reddening the lips, he did not stop, instead taking the opportunity to intrude during the gentle parting, maliciously swirling his soft tongue.
Such intimate contact made Yan Chuan, lost in dreams, quite uncomfortable. His eyelids fluttered slightly, as if on the verge of waking.
Tang Zhen didn’t feel a shred of guilt for being caught.
His fingertips began to glisten with saliva, continuing to probe into the soft warmness. The other hand reached up to stroke Yan Chuan’s cheek, as if providing a comforting touch.
Yan Chuan was still fast asleep.
The skill card’s effect meant he could only remain in a deep slumber, unaware of the humiliation he suffered in reality, unable to struggle even slightly.
“So pitiful,” Tang Zhen mused, glancing at his glossy fingers, uttering this line without sincerity.
He could only watch as the eyelids slowly turned a light pink, breath quivering, so wretched that even tears couldn’t escape.
Tang Zhen sat up, cleaned his fingers, and rummaged through the wardrobe for a spaghetti strap dress.
If Yan Chuan were awake at that moment, he would likely recognize that this outfit resembled some of those in his own wardrobe.
The color was a garish water-rose, and the style was simple yet revealing, adorned with sequins that were blinding to the eye.
These sorts of provocative clothes should not have been found in the home of a single man like Tang Zhen.
Because this was prepared for someone else.
It was for the young and beautiful yet restless wives in this apartment building.
Yan Chuan was dressed in this spaghetti strap dress.
The hem was short, just below his thighs. His long, slender legs were completely exposed, unclothed and vulnerable to the air.
Yan Chuan’s looks leaned towards the strikingly beautiful, making the impact even stronger when dressed like this.
The not-so-soft fabric rubbed against his delicate skin, bringing out a faint flush, covered head to toe in pale pink.
The garish color accentuated his snowy complexion, fresh and tender, resembling a jelly that trembled at the slightest poke.
[Did he squeeze it, the short skirt?]
[Pointing and discussing; he just changed his wife’s clothes, right? Why has the screen gone black?]
[Oh, he’s too much, surpassing limits…]
[A new day meets new perverts, poor Yan Ba having only bad men around him, wuwuwu.]
The person in slumber remained unaware of what was happening.
Unaware that he had been drugged in someone else’s room, his lips swollen and reddened from being touched, tears hanging at the corners of his eyes, ready to spill.
Now, he was forced into a tacky spaghetti strap dress, with large swathes of fair skin exposed, completely vulnerable to the lascivious gaze of others.
Yan Chuan seemed to sense something, letting out a few short hums, trying to curl up, but was quickly pulled by the ankle back into his original position.
“Click, click.”
After a series of noises, a photograph with a white border was ejected, as Tang Zhen set down his camera.
In the photograph, the subject’s eyes were tightly closed, dressed in his gaudy spaghetti strap dress, lying on the soft bedding posed in various ways.
He held the freshly developed photos, admiring them contentedly for a moment before placing them in a metal box under the bed.
Inside, there was another photograph that Tang Zhen pulled out by its corner.
The main character was the same person.
However, the difference was that the first photo had evidently been taken from a surreptitious angle.
In the image, the subject was turned sideways, displaying only half his face, smiling sweetly as if conversing with someone.
Another person was also in the frame, but their image was marred by a large “X” drawn with a marker, displaying clear disdain.
“Yan Chuan?” Tang Zhen asked, a hint of confusion in his voice. “Weren’t you listening to me earlier?”
Yan Chuan blinked, startled as a handsome face enlarged before him, causing him to lean back in alarm.
The chair squeaked loudly in protest, scraping against the ground, wobbling precariously as if about to tip over.
“Be careful!” Tang Zhen reacted quickly, steadying him, causing the guitar in his hands to crash to the floor.
“Sorry,” Yan Chuan stood up with support, glancing regretfully at the guitar on the ground. “I didn’t mean to.”
He hadn’t expected the chair to be so flimsy, barely able to bear his weight, and inadvertently causing Tang Zhen to catch him, resulting in the guitar crashing down.
“It’s fine,” Tang Zhen said, rubbing where the guitar had scratched the floor, smiling in reassurance. “It’s okay, it’s only scratched.”
Yan Chuan felt more guilt creeping in.
“I was just about to ask if you wanted to go back now,” Tang Zhen explained why he had leaned so close. “I asked you several times, but you seemed spaced out. I had to move in closer.”
“Sorry.” Yan Chuan recalled that he indeed had been zoning out earlier, which was why he hadn’t heard Tang Zhen speaking.
But why had he been zoning out?
Yan Chuan said, “I think I should head back now.”
He hesitated, looking at the guitar. “This…”
Tang Zhen reassured him, “It’s usable, don’t worry.”
He stood up, holding the first-aid kit. “I’ll take you upstairs.”
With Tang Zhen being so eager, Yan Chuan felt he couldn’t say anything against it. Besides, it was indeed his fault that the guitar had fallen, so he walked up with him.