Chapter 304: The Confrontation

Yan Chuan still treated his “husband” as a normal person, looking for excuses not to give a good morning kiss or a good night kiss. His heart, which had been racing since entering the punishment world, began to race uncontrollably again. The vintage phone he gripped in his hand continued to beep, likely messages from his “lover” or perhaps someone else, but Yan Chuan had already pressed the screen off.

He simply lowered his eyelids and stared at the glossy floor, unsure of how to respond to anyone’s questions. Yan Chuan realized, with a dull ache, that things seemed really bad.

The atmosphere fell into silence. The sound of the kitchen’s exhaust fan stopped as his “husband,” who had been busy, turned off the heat, sauntering out to the living room. The “husband” who had knocked to come in stood in the living room, casually placing the groceries he was holding on the table.

Yan Chuan glanced at the items and was shocked to find them identical to the ones he had brought earlier. Yan Chuan:…

At that moment, he even felt an unexplainable urge to laugh. It was no wonder they were the same person; there was no need to discuss grocery shopping.

However, Yan Chuan’s attention quickly shifted from this trivial detail as his “husband” spoke. The man, still wearing a floral apron that clashed with his masculinity, looked at the beeping phone in Yan Chuan’s hand and asked, “Is he still messaging you?”

Yan Chuan didn’t know who the “he” was that his husband was referring to, so he nodded and then shook his head. His soft, rosy lips parted slightly, and after a moment of hesitation, he softly said, “Uh-huh…”

The man looked at him intently, and Yan Chuan quietly lowered his head. He had no idea why the lover only spoke in half-truths, making him think this was happening while his husband was still alive.

Yan Chuan felt a bit frustrated. However, the situation was quite awkward; he silently thought. The husband beside him had yet to say a word.

Now the situation was that Yan Chuan stood in the living room, unconsciously gripping the hem of his clothes, flanked by two tall men who looked exactly alike. Their faces resembled each other, their aura was the same, absolutely identical, with the only difference being that one looked a bit more pale than the other.

This was likely proof that one of the “husbands” was indeed dead. Otherwise, how could he see both “husbands” at the same time?

Yan Chuan didn’t know what to say, and neither of his “husbands” spoke, causing the atmosphere to fall into an odd silence. Only the vintage phone in his hand remained oblivious to the tension, continuing to beep.

“Hmm?” the more recent husband glanced at Yan Chuan’s phone, raised an eyebrow, and muttered to himself, “No wonder I couldn’t find him; turns out he’s been hiding and messaging you secretly…”

Yan Chuan swallowed hard. Were they referring to the lover sending him messages? Was it one of their acquaintances or someone else entirely?

Yan Chuan had no idea, but now he couldn’t directly turn on the phone to check, fearing he might see something he shouldn’t, so he simply held the phone tightly in his hand.

However, the husband chuckled and casually asked, “Aren’t you going to take a look?”

Yan Chuan hesitated for a moment. He certainly wanted to see the messages and even wanted to ask the sender if he was also participating in the punishment task, but with his “husband” saying this, Yan Chuan wasn’t quite sure anymore.

Thinking about how the apartment script was a supernatural one made Yan Chuan feel uneasy.

But his “husband” had already reached over, urging him to unlock the phone.

Yan Chuan couldn’t believe how the situation had reached this point. It felt as if there wasn’t enough room on the chair—his “husbands” were crowding him, guiding him over to the sofa in the living room.

With two tall men pressing him on either side, Yan Chuan found his calves pinned together, his hands resting obediently on his knees. His “husbands” seemed unfazed by the abnormality of the scene; half-hugging and half-holding him, they began to read the messages aloud from his inbox.

“I’ve realized, I cannot betray my husband…” The handsome man held onto Yan Chuan’s shoulder, reading the content he had hastily typed in panic: “Let’s break up, and let’s not meet again…”

Yan Chuan couldn’t tell if he should be afraid or embarrassed. He could only try to hunch his shoulders, avoiding contact with the men on either side, wishing to curl up in a corner.

He whispered to the husband next to him, asking if he could stop repeating the message he sent. A segment of text rushed out in confusion and fear, with no typos found to qualify them as okay; how could Yan Chuan even consider whether the phrasing or tone was off?

This led to many of the statements sounding quite awkward.

“I love him very much… Huh? Like this husband so much?” The men audibly read out his words in a teasing tone from either side.

Staring back with eager eyes, Yan Chuan’s face turned crimson. His hitherto porcelain skin bloomed with a rosy hue, looking like a peach, both rosy and white. Moisture glimmered in his eyes, which naturally exuded a watery gleam.

He couldn’t muster a retort, simply biting his lip and shaking his head softly.

“Not…” Yan Chuan shook his head, unable to articulate anything further, repeating himself in circles.

Hearing his quiet protests, the man smirked and exited the message box. Yan Chuan’s gaze remained fixed on the screen, where the red notifications flickered; the person on the other end kept persistently sending messages.

He embarrassedly lowered his head.

“Why do you like him so much that you have to hurt your husband with someone else?” The man’s heavy gaze pierced into him, asking, “Were you lying all this while?”

The “husband” behind chimed in, and Yan Chuan could completely not clarify who these two people really were, nor understood who was asking him this.