Chapter 298: Encounter in the Bedroom

Yan Chuan blinked.
His gaze swept across the face of the man beside him.
Is this the “punishment” arranged by the escape variety show?
To have him pretend to be a “couple” with a man here?
Yan Chuan was led into the bedroom by the man.
The bedroom was small, with a double bed set neatly in the corner, adorned with two sets of bedding.
There were no tables or chairs in the room, so the only place to sit was on the bed.
Yan Chuan scanned the room.
Of course, there was only one bed in the bedroom.
But there was also another man in the room.
Yan Chuan raised his eyebrows slightly.
So… until he completed the task, he had to sleep with this man next to him?
Yan Chuan felt inexplicably familiar with the scene.
He unconsciously glanced at the man’s face again, his delicate brow furrowing.
Could it be that someone had once played the role of his “husband”?
“What’s wrong?”
The man’s frown deepened as he noticed Yan Chuan’s puzzled gaze and asked, “Are you still feeling unwell?”
He reached out, his cool fingertips brushing over Yan Chuan’s thin eyelids a few times.
His touch was gentle, but Yan Chuan’s skin was delicate, and the slight pressure from the man’s fingertips left a faint blush.
Like rouge spreading out, his eyelids took on a hint of color, making his eyes glisten with moisture.
Yan Chuan shook his head.
He instinctively pulled away from the man’s hand, not quite accustomed to such intimacy.
However, he suddenly remembered where he was, halting his movement to retreat.
His movement was subtle, resembling a slight lean back; the man likely didn’t notice and instead wrapped his arm around Yan Chuan’s shoulder.
“Please don’t touch me…” the corners of Yan Chuan’s eyes were already a bit red. He pushed the man’s hand away and quietly refused, “Your strength is too much…”
What he said was true; the skin around his eyelids was thin and tender, easily reddening even with a light touch.
His delicate fingertips grazed the man’s palm, pushing his hand away gently.
Yan Chuan’s voice was soft, and his push lacked force. His reddened eyelids made him look as if he were sulking.
The man raised his hands in surrender as he felt Yan Chuan’s timid push.
“I’m sorry, baby…” His voice dropped low, holding Yan Chuan’s thin shoulders and leaning closer to whisper an apology, “It’s my fault…”
Yan Chuan turned his face away, refusing to look at him, but his cheeks turned slightly red.
The pale earlobes hidden in his dark hair blushed too.
“What time is it?”
There were no time-telling tools near Yan Chuan, and there was no clock in the bedroom; with the windows closed, it was impossible to guess the time.
He had entered the villa in the morning, and after playing a round of the spinning game, he shouldn’t have spent too many hours.
Yan Chuan had no choice but to ask the only other person present.
The man pulled at his sleeve and glanced at his wristwatch.
“It’s already past ten at night,” he raised an eyebrow, somewhat surprised, “I can’t believe it took so long…”
Yan Chuan thought for a moment and nodded.
It’s already ten at night?
Does that mean not only did he enter the punishment door at the end of the corridor, but he also arrived at another place?
Or is this a hallucination created for him?
Yan Chuan glanced at his own pale palm.
He pressed slightly, his nails digging into his palm, leaving pale indentations.
It hurt a bit.
It meant that regardless of whether this place was an illusion or not, he could still feel pain and could be hurt.
His heart raced, and he quietly clenched his hand to cover the marked area.
He couldn’t let himself get hurt; if he did, it might carry over to the real world.
The man beside Yan Chuan didn’t sense anything amiss.
On the contrary, he was quite familiar with Yan Chuan’s nature and knew he wasn’t fond of talking.
With a hint of coaxing, he readily accepted Yan Chuan’s small temper.
His expression bore a near-gentle quality, softening unconsciously when facing Yan Chuan, despite his fierce and cold demeanor.
The man looked at the time and leaned closer to Yan Chuan.
“Are you tired?” He pointed to the clock: “Maybe we should sleep for now? What do you want to eat tomorrow? I’ll cook for you in the morning, my dear?”
The man said “my dear” with such ease, without a hint of embarrassment.
Yan Chuan pressed his lips together and gently nodded.
It was an answer to whether he was tired.
It seemed that the man and he were not in a “couple” relationship but rather “partners.”
Thinking of this, Yan Chuan’s cheeks inexplicably heated again.
The last time he heard such a term… was when he was in the script with that gloomy, handsome man.
Yan Chuan furrowed his brows slightly.
The man in front of him was definitely not the宿, their appearance and build were different, yet why did he feel this person… seemed a bit familiar?
Was he the “husband” who died in the “Thirteenth Apartment” script?
Yan Chuan stole a glance at the man who was standing up to tidy the bed.
Because his “dead husband” had never truly revealed himself.
In the script, he always appeared in the form of a ghost, and while Yan Chuan had seen him, he had no idea what he looked like.
Yan Chuan could only discern a rough outline from the shadow, knowing that the other person was quite tall.
But Yan Chuan had no idea how many tall men he’d encountered in the script; one random person was always much taller than him, so this trait couldn’t be used for identification.
This situation felt rather awkward.
Yan Chuan suspected that the man in front of him was his “dead husband” from the apartment script, but he didn’t know what the man looked like and hadn’t interacted with him in real life.
After all, he initially thought his “husband” was the宿 who came home on time every day, even giving him timely good morning and good night kisses.
Thinking of this, Yan Chuan bit his lip.