Cat 168: A Perilous Kiss Scene
by CristaeChapter 168: A Perilous Kiss Scene
[Want To Be Human] Livestream:
“Hahahahaha, fuck, this is too much! After becoming the female lead, the kitten has now unlocked a new way to play—acting in a horror instance and reaching the pinnacle of life.”
“Single dogs are truly envious, not even as lucky as a cat. The kitten gets to play the female lead and even has a kissing scene. Please, let us see their ship scene!”
“I vow to be vegetarian for three years as long as the kitten gets at least two more minutes of kissing.”
“My mom asked why I’m giggling at a horror game; she thinks I’m losing it.”
“But seriously, isn’t Director Jiang messing with the story’s pacing this way? According to the instance, they should shoot each scene one by one as written in the script, and the tasks should follow one after another, right?”
“The guy upstairs is right, but honestly, this instance’s NPCs seem beyond the system’s control—like they’ve developed free will.”
“It’s normal for NPCs in the system to have a certain degree of autonomy. Every NPC in the kitten’s instances has a distinct personality. I still remember their stories and names. It’s weird—before watching this, I never remembered anything, have I been enchanted by the kitten?”
The script of Mingya High School truly had a romantic subplot—but why would a double-male-lead story need romance? Wasn’t his role supposed to be partnered with a beautiful girl?
No, he wasn’t a real actor anyway. What was the point of acting; he should be focusing on the plot!
Why would there even be romance in a horror film?
Reluctantly, Yan Jiyun stood at the entrance to the music building, not at all eager to go inside.
Qi Feng held back a little, waiting for him, and spoke softly: “Just going through the motions, it won’t matter much.”
“I just think this so-called romance subplot is a waste of time,” Yan Jiyun grumbled, thinking of his nearly depleted temporary human card. He’d burned through a lot of it in the class monitor’s instance, and the timer had drained even faster in this one—he was down to half already.
He had less than twelve hours left on the card. After a few more scenes, the last three days he’d have to run the instance in cat form—which was a risk, unless he just clung to Qi Feng and Gu Wenzhu’s group to clear the dungeon, but that would make him a total freeloader.
Ah, he just wanted to slack off.
Qi Feng’s eyes dropped as he said, “Let’s get it done quickly, just phone it in. Honestly, I don’t think Director Jiang cares much about our acting anyway.”
There was nothing else for it. With all the NPCs watching them, there was no running away.
They still had their own plan: find the real Teacher Qu and get out of the instance as fast as possible.
Yan Jiyun received a freshly written script page from the screenwriter. Though the adjustments made the plot flow better, they made him want to tear the script in half.
Why did they keep adding scenes for him—he didn’t want more!
Director Jiang stood nearby with another copy of the script. “Know how you need to portray the emotions in a minute?”
Yan Jiyun internally rolled his eyes. “Why are you adding scenes? Can’t you cut some?”
“No,” Director Jiang answered flatly.
“I really don’t see the point.”
“I see a great deal of point in it. No more arguing—go prepare your mood.”
Tch, his bond with his “litter box cleaner” was good enough; what emotions needed preparing? Borrowing a seat wasn’t hard, and kissing was just lips touching.
“No need, let’s just shoot it already. The sooner we finish, the sooner we can rest.”
Director Jiang grinned. “Fine, your wish is my command.” He turned on his megaphone. “All cameras, get ready!”
Yan Jiyun and Qi Feng moved to their marks and quickly coordinated positions.
Before the shoot began, Yan Jiyun whispered, “Not sure if this scene will trigger a storyline…”
Qi Feng, staring at the face drawing closer to his, answered, “Probably not.”
He no longer thought of Yan Jiyun as a rookie. The guy had his own strategies and skill—a cut above an ordinary newcomer.
Their romantic scene had a particular setup.
Yan Jiyun, chased by a ghost wielding a chainsaw, loses his footing and falls from a height. In a moment of desperation, Qi Feng grabs a rope hanging from a beam and catches Yan Jiyun one-handed as he falls, but the rope can’t bear their combined weight and snaps just before they reach the ground. Qi Feng then rolls them both on impact, breaking the fall—and in the tumble, their lips accidentally touch.
In reality, they just bumped mouths, but Director Jiang insisted this was the script’s sole kissing scene—so it had to look natural and beautiful.
It was a tricky move. First there’d be a shot of Yan Jiyun running from the ghost, followed by one of Qi Feng.
A regular film crew would use every safety precaution. But here, to make things look more exciting and real, Director Jiang provided barely any protective gear—just a thick landing pad where the rope dropped.
A moment’s carelessness, and this “romantic” scene could seriously injure or kill the actors. Trash game indeed—trash director, too.
Ready at last, Yan Jiyun sprinted forward, a “ghost” (played by an actress) lunging at him with Director Jiang’s prompts.
Even though it was just acting, Yanjiyun didn’t dare be careless—the chilling aura this “ghost” exuded, the familiar black fingernails, even the prop chainsaw in her hands were unsettling. The thing was actually spinning, and none of the other NPCs seemed to find it odd.
Yan Jiyun cursed internally—wasn’t this the very ghost from the previous instance? She really was trying to kill him!
Wasn’t anyone going to do something?
Cameras encircled him, their blinking LEDs everywhere—was he in the ghost’s domain or on a film set?
After failing to win in the previous pocket-dimension, the ghost now appeared like this?
Distracted thoughts vanished as the roaring chainsaw came straight for him. He dodged left and right, barely escaping. Just like in the script, he tripped over a chair—he didn’t fall from a second story to the first, but he did manage to hook the chair and swing it into the attacking ghost!
If he didn’t start fighting back now, he really was going to get killed.
Qi Feng, holding a rope, wasn’t in position yet, but watched as Yan Jiyun struggled with the ghost in authentic peril. He quickly recognized this wasn’t just an actress—Yan Jiyun was in trouble.
At this critical moment, Qi Feng had to sit tight; any interference would distract Yanjiyun and get him hurt instead. He tugged on the slightly frayed rope, ready to rush in at a moment’s notice, but something else caught his attention: Yan Jiyun’s movement was slower than usual. Was he hurt?
Yan Jiyun was indeed sluggish—his cold had gotten worse, and he was slower and less reactive.
His head was still clear, but his body lagged. As he wedged the chair against the ghost’s chainsaw, for once he shouted to his team leader for help.
Running towards Qi Feng, Yan Jiyun called, “Qi Feng!” He was nearing his limit.
Qi Feng was poised to react, holding the rope. “Come on!”
Yan Jiyun still trusted Qi Feng completely—never doubting he’d catch him. As the ghost threw off the chair, he vaulted the railing and dove for Qi Feng, who hooked him by the waist and held tight.
The rope, predictably, couldn’t handle their combined weight. As soon as Yan Jiyun was caught, they heard the telltale sound of it snapping.
Yan Jiyun warned, “The rope’s breaking.”
“Hold on, get ready to jump,” Qi Feng replied. “Hold tight.”
Yan Jiyun’s arms locked around his neck, with practiced ease.
Crack.
Crack.
Crack.
The rope broke.
They dropped, but landed together on the padded mat. The fall wasn’t far and neither was hurt; momentum rolled them three times before they stopped. Qi Feng cushioned the back of Yan Jiyun’s head, protecting him.
It was a hair-raising scene—one slip and either could have broken a limb.
Enraged at losing her quarry, the ghost hurled a chair down at them from above. Qi Feng, with his back to her, didn’t notice, but Yan Jiyun saw it and, using his last bit of strength, shoved Qi Feng to the side and threw himself over him. His lips landed squarely on Qi Feng’s.
Neither noticed the touch—the chair missed Qi Feng, but the chair back slammed into Yan Jiyun’s left shoulder, making his face twist from the pain. He thought his arm might be done for.
Yan Jiyun’s reaction was so quick, Qi Feng was left reeling, his mind buzzing. Brow furrowing, he asked, “Are you all right?”
In so much pain he couldn’t move, Yan Jiyun buried his face in Qi Feng’s neck, just like he did as a cat when he didn’t want to move, and ground out a word: “Hurts.”
[Where’s My Cat]:
“Gently shipping the newbie and Brother Feng. Lan Mo couldn’t be this devoted no matter what. If the newbie slipped up, he could’ve been hit in the head by that ghost’s chair.”
“The rookie’s reaction was crazy fast, but still—Feng saved him first, and he saved Feng right after, didn’t he?”
“The rookie really is strong. Who else would notice in a split second that a chair’s flying in from behind—and instead of dodging, shield Brother Feng?”
“Tsk tsk, this rookie is seriously cunning. No CP shipping! Let Brother Feng shine solo, thanks!”
“Would anyone else go that far for Brother Feng? I think Feng’s finally found a reliable new teammate this time.”
[Want To Be Human] Livestream:
“Aaaaah, kitty got hurt—just hearing that thud made my ears tingle. Poor thing, does it hurt? My heart aches for you!”
“Same here! He didn’t even hesitate to shield the level-5 streamer from the chair. He must really care about his owner. While I worry about the cat, I’m also feeling the love between the kitty and his owner.”
“Did you guys notice? The kitten and the streamer just finished the kiss scene.”
“They really did kiss, but honestly, more than the kiss, I love the way kitty’s face is buried in his owner’s neck, softly whining about the pain, the owner’s hand protecting his head—this is what mutual love really looks like!”
“Girl, you’re a microscope—picking up on details I missed! The pose is more heart-melting than a kiss. Amazing, I believe in love again!”
Right now, Yan Jiyun’s mind was blank. Shielding Qi Feng from the chair hurt more than stepping in for Qu Wanchao earlier, the pain piercing to his very core. Head pressed into Qi Feng’s throat, he lay sprawled across him, unable to budge. Maybe because his relationship with Qi Feng was… something different, he found it easier to drop his guard and show weakness here.
A part of Qi Feng’s heart went soft. He didn’t rush Yan Jiyun, knowing exactly how that pain felt.
He let Yan Jiyun rest a moment before asking, “You okay?”
Before Yan Jiyun could answer, Director Jiang reappeared out of nowhere with his camera, shoving a huge close-up in both their faces.
His excited voice boomed from above them. “Cut! That’s a pass! Absolutely phenomenal—keep up this energy for the next scenes!”
Yan Jiyun: “…”
Trash NPC. His shoulder was killing him, and all he cared about was the footage.
Just then, Qu Wanchao appeared from who-knows-where and offered a hand.
“That chair hit looked way too real. Are you okay?”
Yan Jiyun: … He had no intention of responding. “Real?” It almost hurt him to death, for real!
He braced himself on one hand and climbed off Qi Feng, who also helped him up.
Qu Wanchao said, “It looked pretty bad. I went to get some trauma medicine—come here, I’ll take care of it for you.”
Yanjiyun froze for a second—so, he’d slipped away to get him medicine? His opinion of Qu Wanchao unexpectedly improved.
He wasn’t just in pain—now his head ached, too. Just how many personalities did Teacher Qu have? Couldn’t one explicitly announce, “I’m Qu Wanchao, your rival!”?
Qi Feng rose as well and swiftly took the medicine out of Qu Wanchao’s hands. “I’ll do it.”
Qu Wanchao looked at the medicine, clearly wanting it back, but finally let it go. After all, he had acted annoyed by Yan Jiyun before—having someone else help wasn’t bad.
With a proud glare, he added, “Make sure you use it properly. Don’t hold up the shoot just because you get hurt.”
Yan Jiyun: … He never expected to get medicine like this.
He shot Qi Feng a look. The two of them walked aside to apply the ointment.
In the last mission, the ghost had isolated players in a unique space; this time, the ghost had possessed an actor and attacked directly. There were endless tricks.
Qi Feng murmured, “Let’s be careful with the extras—looks like the ghost has changed her strategy.”
Unbuttoning his shirt, Yan Jiyun exposed most of his left back. “The script never mentioned a vengeance-seeking ghost, but now there’s a real avenger in the crew.”
It wasn’t Qi Feng’s first time treating Yan Jiyun’s wounds; he’d done so during the championship before.
He noticed the marks from the ghost’s claws. “You were scratched by the ghost earlier?”
“Yeah.” Yan Jiyun looked at his own left shoulder. “Hurts like hell—will this stuff even work?”
“It should do. In the game, if the NPC says it’s medicine, it’s medicine. Smells all right, too.” Qi Feng sniffed. “NPCs have given me ointment before in-game; same smell, works for bruises.”
“You’re pretty popular with the ladies then,” Yan Jiyun teased, guessing female NPCs must favor Qi Feng.
“Not as much as you, apparently,” Qi Feng hinted. “Bear with it—the medicine stings at first, but it gets better after.”
“Yeah.” Yan Jiyun nodded. He felt the cool ointment spread over the wound—painful, but bearable.
“You didn’t have to shield me back there—the back doesn’t hurt when hit with a chair,” Qi Feng commented, dabbing gently along the scratch marks.
“If it were Gu Wenzhu, I’d do the same. Don’t overthink it,” Yan Jiyun said, not wanting Qi Feng to feel indebted. He wasn’t repaying a favor—he simply reacted, without thinking.
Qi Feng fell silent, quietly rubbing in the ointment.
Once done, the chill from the medicine seeped in, and Yan Jiyun grimaced in pain.
Director Jiang came over frowning. “Can you keep shooting later?”
Qi Feng helped button Yan Jiyun’s shirt.
“No way,” Yan Jiyun replied, “I was just hit by a chair.”
Director Jiang nodded. “Then rest for now. We’ll shoot Qi Feng’s scenes with the second female lead.”
Yan Jiyun had just wanted to review other key scenes with Qi Feng, but now that plan fell through; Qi Feng, as main lead, had a load of entangled scenes with the other lead.
Were there more kiss scenes? The thought flashed through him and he snickered—NPC perks, not everyone gets those.
He reminded Qi Feng, “Every NPC could be Teacher Qu. Be careful.”
Even the ghost had shared a face with Qu Wanchao—nothing said Teacher Qu couldn’t be a woman.
He glanced at his timer—half an hour gone just like that.
Director Jiang really offered no breathing room.
Watching Qi Feng get pulled away by Director Jiang, Yan Jiyun left the scene. All the others were combing the school for clues about the previous jumper cases.
After Mingya High’s closure, the school had been left to rot.
On the second floor of the music building, he found Shi Yan and asked, “You guys found a library card in the student’s pocket after falling into the Mirror Lake, right? Did you check the library?”
Shi Yan, reminded, brightened. “Now that you mention it—I’d forgotten! Blue Mo has the card in his pack. It’s from Mingya High. Do you think it matters for this instance?”
Shi Yan and He Yuanle hadn’t experienced the class monitor’s instance, so it was a fair question. Yan Jiyun replied, “If you never used the evidence and haven’t found the boss of the Mingya High instance yet, maybe Zhao Yue’s card means something. It’s just a guess, though.”
Qi Feng was surrounded by NPCs shooting new scenes and couldn’t break away. Gu Wenzhu, with his leg injury, stayed nearby, helping at the main set. Qiu Xi and Lan Mo had gone to the B-crew searching for more clues. No one really knew which scene would touch the secret point in the script—they just searched slowly, step by step.
The scenes they guessed were important could all be dead ends.
Shi Yan nodded. “No real leads yet. I’ll go check it out.”
“I’ll go with you,” said Yan Jiyun.
“When’s your next scene?” asked Shi Yan.
Yan Jiyun glanced at Director Jiang, who wasn’t paying attention. “I’ll slip out for a bit. Every time I shoot, I encounter the ghost. Better to find out who she is first.”
Shi Yan: “Shouldn’t you tell Brother Feng?”
“You go tell him—if I show up, Director Jiang will keep me in his sights.”
Shi Yan thought, as the “female lead,” it was indeed hard not to draw attention.
When Qi Feng paused for makeup, Shi Yan reported. Qi Feng glanced at Yan Jiyun, who was standing in the corner, and said to Shi Yan, “Look after Yan Jiyun.”
Shi Yan shot him a strange look.
Since when had their captain looked out for people like that?
But then, he’d just seen Yan Jiyun shield Qi Feng from a falling chair.
“Okay,” said Shi Yan.
Their discussion was brief.
In the corner, Yan Jiyun mused about the genuine camaraderie between Qi Feng and his teammates in this instance. How had a rift ever developed between him and his old friend years ago? He couldn’t help but be curious.
The Mingya High School script was probably the closest thing to the truth Teacher Qu wanted them to dig up.
Yan Jiyun wasn’t sure why the library came to mind—he’d explored nearly every major building on campus except that one.
The library was the sort of place something could easily happen.
He considered what he needed to do next:
- Figure out the true identities of Ghosts #1 and #2. Ghost 1 appeared the most and was probably key. Ghost 2 was Qu Wanchao’s sister, but Qu Wanchao seemed to have no memory of her—very strange.
- The main story ran through every creepy spot on campus. Now that Su Xiran, the original female lead, was dead, what role did she play in Mingya High School 2.0? Did she kill Ghost 1 or Ghost 2, or was she pushed by a ghost or by the story’s “culprit”?
- How many “Teacher Qu’s” were in this instance? How many identities did he play? Which were split from the main personality, which reserved for alternate selves?
All of these were questions he desperately needed answered.
Yan Jiyun wasted no time and set off for the library with Shi Yan.
The library was off in its own corner of campus.
That’d be a fine phrase for an 800-word essay, but the problem was it was now the middle of the night, silent as a tomb. Even stepping on a dry twig made his skin crawl.
That’s why Yan Jiyun had brought Shi Yan along.
But now, he started to regret it. Shi Yan wasn’t like Lan Mo—he was quiet by nature and rarely spoke.
Yan Jiyun tried to break the ice. “Don’t you think this place is creepy?”
Shi Yan replied calmly: “It is pretty creepy.”
“Do you sing?” Yan Jiyun asked.
Shi Yan wasn’t sure what he meant. “A little.”
Yan Jiyun rubbed his arms. “How about a round of ‘Good Luck’s On The Way’?”
Shi Yan: “…”
He remembered Qi Feng liked classical music. Why did he have such a high opinion of Yan Jiyun?