The lover was not discreet; he would often show up at night, getting intimate with his wife behind a wall. Yan Chuan labeled this man, whose name he didn’t yet know, as a “loser.”
Logically, after discovering his wife’s betrayal, a husband would be furious and confront the lover. In a more usual scenario, he might divorce her and seek happiness elsewhere. If he were more helpless, he might endure the shame, unwilling to separate from his beautiful wife, choosing instead to tolerate her lover.
However, this wasn’t real life; there were no dramatic twists here. Before entering the scenario, Yan Chuan had already heard about the 13th apartment being a supernatural script. Supernatural scripts invariably required people to die in various ways— the child in the ventilation duct fit this scenario, as did Zhou Wu and Liang Xin, who were more or less involved in Room 5, which was suspected to be linked to human traffickers.
But how did their roles as a beautiful wife, a silent husband, and two lovers fit into the narrative of this 13th apartment? Or rather, was a murder involved among their group? Yan Chuan couldn’t help but touch his neck, feeling a chill at the back.
Yet, before concluding anything, he was indeed curious about what kind of person his “husband” was. If he could get out, would he meet his husband’s colleagues and learn more about him?
“No,” the husband fell silent for a moment before giving Yan Chuan an unexpected answer, “It’s not your fault, it’s mine.”
Yan Chuan blinked.
“I don’t want you to go out and be seen by others.” The handsome man’s brow furrowed deeply; his dark eyes glinted with a brooding obsession, looking gloomy and intense. He stroked Yan Chuan’s cheek, gently caressing the delicate skin with his fingers. The pressure was light, but there was a palpable possessiveness in his touch.
Feeling slightly itchy on his cheek, Yan Chuan instinctively tried to turn his head. But the husband’s fingers gripped his chin, preventing any movement and forcing him to maintain this position. The much taller man leaned in, gazing intently into his eyes, “Baby, you’re too beautiful.”
Yan Chuan felt uneasy: “Ah?”
Why was he complimenting him?
The husband continued, “The men outside are all perverts. They’ll have wicked thoughts as soon as they see you, and they’ll want to take you away from me.”
Yan Chuan’s eyelashes fluttered.
“Even since moving here, there have been plenty of wild men staring at you.” The husband’s tone was tinged with jealousy and frustration. “I really wish I could remove their lecherous eyes…”
When it came to dangerous topics, the husband’s voice lowered, shifting to say, “It’s also not okay to meet colleagues. They’re just a group of people filled with disgusting thoughts.”
“In any case,” he concluded, “The outside world is too dangerous. Baby, just stay home obediently.”
Yan Chuan: …
What could he say? That although he hadn’t met his husband’s colleagues, he had already gotten involved with the wild men in the apartment?
[Oh, is he worried that colleagues and superiors will see his beautiful wife and develop lustful thoughts?]
[When will this man realize that such a beauty as Yan Bao, even with him around 24 hours a day, will still attract others?]
[Some men’s possessive rage upon learning their wives are too popular.]
[Reasonable suspicion that the wife has already caught the eye of outside men or that this bad man has always been covetous (this is my wild guess).]
After a pointless conversation, Yan Chuan reluctantly reached a conclusion. His character in the script should have met his “husband’s” colleagues; otherwise, how could the man’s reaction be so strong?
Before moving into the 13th apartment, his character was indulgent and flirtatious, relying on his husband’s introverted nature to flirt with colleagues. After moving in, he was expected to become more “obedient,” which could explain why the husband had no issues with him being spoiled at home.
Yan Chuan selectively ignored Tang Zhen and Shan Qi.
After washing up, Yan Chuan intended to rest.
After Liang Xin’s incident, the 13th apartment fell into an extreme stillness, like a stagnant pool.
Yet, Yan Chuan knew that beneath this calm surface lay brewing danger, one that could erupt at any moment.
He wrapped himself in the blanket, filled with worry.
In the deep of night, in the quiet bedroom, Yan Chuan suddenly frowned in his sleep. A fine sweat appeared on his smooth forehead, his lips slightly parted, breathing unevenly; his face turned pale.
His delicate fingers unconsciously gripped the quilt, and his calves trembled slightly under the blankets, curling up as if dreaming of something terrifying.
It felt so cold…
Something was touching him.
A cold, invisible hand ensnared him as soon as it made contact with his warm skin, greedily wrapping around him. It slipped through the gap in his pajamas, coiling around him like a boneless serpent.
Uncertain of where it had roamed, Yan Chuan flailed his legs, his plump, pale toes leaving small imprints on the sheet, helplessly lifting his chin.
The entity in the dark had a twisted sense of pleasure and didn’t stop. Instead, it followed the delicate curves upward, reaching his luscious, soft lips to playfully stroke them.
The slippery, cold sensation vividly transmitted through him, and Yan Chuan let out a small whimper from deep in his throat, realizing that something invisible in the darkness had been fixated on him.
Just like on the first night he entered the script, when ghosts roamed the 13th apartment.
That thing…
He couldn’t speak, nor could he make any significant movements; he could only lay stiffly in bed, silently enduring.
The difference this time was that his “husband” was lying beside him.
While he and his husband slept soundly, the malevolent spirit approached with ill intentions.
An icy chill almost brought tears to Yan Chuan’s eyes, the corners of his eyes reddening. His scarlet tongue peeked out slightly, and his whole body curled up in despair.