Famine 225: Bright Moon

[Countdown to the Lord God’s Battle: 701 days]

[Time: 2:03 a.m.]

When Bian Xu returned to the house, the bright moon already hung high in the sky.

The farm owner’s residence was surrounded by a spacious yard, with guards and a curfew in place. Barring urgent matters, no player would disturb the farm owner and his assistant at night.

At this hour, all was deathly still—it was already somewhat past his window of safety.

There were no lights on; sir was likely already asleep.

That thought suddenly broke something fragile inside Bian Xu. As he set foot on the front steps, his footing faltered.

The familiar dizziness hit, an ache and craving deep in his bones gripping his heart in an instant.

But he merely swayed, then quickly stilled.

Bian Xu was carrying a clear plastic bag. He set it beside the door, pressed his forehead to the wall, fighting to steady the rise and fall of his chest, waiting for this wave of withdrawal to ebb.

After a while, the discomfort got too much. Bian Xu inhaled sharply, deftly pulled up his sleeve, and bit down on his forearm.

The sharp, well-known pain came at once.

In the darkness, there was a fleeting flash of cold light. In Bian Xu’s mouth, the uneven, needle-like fangs of the abyssal vine showed densely. But his arm no longer bled—the fangs bored deep into muscle, drawing only a faint, rain-washed, grassy scent from thin plant fluids.

It was utterly different from when he tangled with sir; Bian Xu left himself no respite from pain.

He needed that pain.

Alone in the deep night, with earth and sky wheeling outside, he was just a monster now.
No matter how he tried to conceal it, he was now… far removed from being “human.”

When Bian Xu finally recovered, the night breeze had been blowing for some time.

His back was drenched in cold sweat.

Slow and steady, Bian Xu lowered his sleeve and adjusted his breathing.

He crept inside, groping through the darkness to set the plastic bag down on the table in the entryway.

Knock, knock.

Two soft raps against a wooden handrail rang in his ears.

Every inch of Bian Xu tensed; he looked up.

Si Zhiyan sat on the darkness-shrouded sofa, in a bathrobe with wet hair still dripping, watching him.

In the moonlight, those blood-red eyes were like deep pools.

“……”

Just one look, and all those wild, suppressed yearnings in Bian Xu’s mind flared feverishly again, burning agony through his body.

Bian Xu forced himself to drop his gaze, rubbing his face, struggling to control his breathing.

He changed shoes quickly, didn’t turn on the lights, tiptoed through the darkness, and quietly approached.

Kneeling on one leg beside Si Zhiyan, bracing himself against the sofa, he whispered, “Sir.”

“You’re not asleep?”

Si Zhiyan crossed his legs, turned his head, and gazed at him in the dark.

Gold, sweat-damp hair clung to his forehead; his golden eyes curved into a merry and dazzling, unshadowed smile.

His golden retriever.

……

Bian Xu had been going out a lot lately.

Thanks to Si Zhiyan’s efforts, the amusement park suited Bian Xu’s tastes perfectly. He often left with a carefree stride, wandering through the streets and alleys of the park.

Many had told Si Zhiyan: your assistant has become obsessed with your park.

Si Zhiyan disagreed.
At least, not just that.

But he said nothing.

He only looked away, glancing at the entryway. “What have you brought back?”

“Ah.” Bian Xu got up, stretched out a vine to hook over the bag, and handed it to Si Zhiyan with a smile. “Here, sir—something delicious.”

Si Zhiyan looked down, opened the crinkling plastic, and saw a brown paper bag.

A packet of candied hawthorn skewers.

The amusement park had been thriving lately, and Si Zhiyan had raised many requirements for the vendors settling in Candy Town. Not only did they need to supplement staff and operate profitably from day until late, but the performance standards were also higher than ever.

Many could not keep up and left the amusement park. That was fine—they’d earned their startup capital. Meanwhile, new shops moved in, energetically bracing themselves for even sterner challenges.

This was one of the new shops today—Si Zhiyan remembered it.

Of course, that memory existed only in the list of applications. He was busy these days, with many affairs to manage: the new gemstone sales, policies to encourage players to target higher-level worlds, structuring the farm’s new combat divisions… He might have created the amusement park himself, but he hardly ever got a chance to visit now.

Yet no matter how busy he was, any good snack that appeared in Candy Town always ended up in his hand this way.

On top of that, these were candied strawberries glazed in gleaming rock sugar—Si Zhiyan’s favorite. He disliked anything too sour; thus, didn’t like hawthorn, and they always remembered.

Bian Xu rested his hand on the sofa back and grinned, “Hehe, lucky day—while I was hanging out in Wonderland today, I saw this shop’s ribbon-cutting.”

His tone was light:

“You know, Rongbei’s first training session just wrapped up! This shopkeeper seems to have bought into that course, preparing separate menus for humans and uncanny, and their grand opening drew huge crowds—very interesting, and tasty, too. The strawberries were picked fresh this morning. The moment I saw them, I knew you’d like them. I was going to bring them as breakfast tomorrow…”

Si Zhiyan patted his head.

Bian—

He stared dazedly at Si Zhiyan for a long moment; his gold irises gradually constricted.

His lips quivered, and at last, as if unable to bear it, he spoke, trembling, in a low voice, “Sir… I didn’t lie to you…”

Si Zhiyan said, “It’s not that.”

In the dark, he bowed his head again, gazing at the glittering, clear sugar glaze on the candied fruit. After a while, he gave a soft laugh.

“Smiling when you’re unhappy, pretending everything’s fine when you’re in pain…”

“You’re a good actor at such things.”

Si Zhiyan had broken free of his earliest facades long ago; he was almost never rattled now.
His voice was always steady and gentle—like the bright moon suspended in the night sky.

So far from the world of men.

Bian Xu’s lips began to tremble.

It was always like this. His whole heart, his spirit, all his thoughts were caught in that one moment’s moonlight.

Just like back then… Just like every time… No different at all.

Bian Xu had learned from early childhood: never let anyone see you cry. Once or twice, people would comfort you—but any more, and all would tire of it.

He still remembered the first time he saw sir.

It was a room as white as snow. Sir sat in a sterile research gown, the kind worn by test subjects, curled by the wall’s side, lifting his eyes just a little.

With just that soft look, Bian Xu had been tongue-tied.

No resistance at all.

Ah. So many years, and still—he’d made no progress.

“You…”

Bian Xu’s voice quavered uncontrollably, his tongue struggling to form the words.

“You once… you once spoke to me like this. In the past…”

Si Zhiyan looked up, smiled, and said, “Did I?”

“I don’t remember.”

He put down the paper bag and rose unhurriedly.

Before Bian Xu realized it, sir was already close; a hand pressed lightly to his shoulder, and with the gentlest push, he found himself helplessly yielding to his force, sinking into the sofa’s cushion.

Si Zhiyan braced himself on the armrest, leaned over, and with pale, slender fingertips, pinched Bian Xu’s jaw to look upon his captive.

“—”

Every muscle in Bian Xu’s body drew taut.

For a moment, he had an overwhelming illusion: that sir in this place would do anything to him, the collar tight on his neck, the knife and whip slicing his skin…

Until he broke down at last, confiding every secret in a flood of tears, kissing those fingertips, begging for forgiveness.

Most despairing was the certainty that he’d have no power to resist.

But Si Zhiyan did nothing.

He only gazed down at Bian Xu, pressed his slender forearm to his dry lips, and softly said, “Open.”

As it turned out, Bian Xu truly had no capacity to resist. Before his mind even processed it, he’d obeyed without hesitation.

Just like Pavlov’s dog.

Si Zhiyan was nearly amused by how docile he was.

Bracing himself over Bian Xu, Si Zhiyan pried open his lips, wedging his forearm into Bian Xu’s mouth.

Bian Xu’s breath caught in his throat.

His mind went nearly blank, nose and mouth filled with sir’s sweet breath.

At this closeness, Bian Xu could no longer maintain any disguise of human shape.
His teeth were so sharp—just the faintest downward pressure, and he’d pierce sir’s soft flesh…

He had held back so long. Sir had always been so willing… Bian Xu’s trembling fangs slowly closed down—

“I don’t want to bleed just yet,” Si Zhiyan murmured calmly.

The tips of his fangs, pricking the skin, halted.

“……”

Bian Xu was entirely at a loss for words.
He stared up at Si Zhiyan, pupils trembling, eyes reddening with surging blood.

“I know what’s on your mind; it’s all right—I don’t mind. I know you would never hurt me.”

But Si Zhiyan didn’t care. He tucked a lock of wet black hair behind his ear.
Even in moments like this, his voice stayed gentle, like a river flowing in moonlight.

“…Uhh…”

Bian Xu clung hard to the sofa fabric for support.

From this angle he saw the graceful bones of sir’s shoulders lifting the robe, pale skin visible at the collar, the cloth falling softly over him.

…Sir’s slender, beautiful, pale, tender flesh. He housed a part of him inside that body—everything he yearned for, and always would. His sir.

Bian Xu had to fight, with all his strength, never to bite down.

The violent craving burned through his mind; his speech turned to mush, slurred words spilling unconsciously from his lips.
He trembled uncontrollably, shivering.

Every second was pure, excruciating torment.

“Busy day, wasn’t it? Saw a lot of people, did a lot…”

Si Zhiyan smiled, good-humored, freeing a hand to gently rub Bian Xu’s sweat-damp hair.

“Did anything trouble you? Home so late—past the time we agreed, past the limit of your patience too.”

“……”

Cold sweat slipped down Bian Xu’s temples, his gaze nearly vacant.

Under that prompting, the withdrawal reflex hit again—he trembled, feverish and chilled by turns, eyes growing redder as he stared at sir’s bare, pale skin.

It was as if he floated above himself, watching his ugly state from afar, with only sir’s tender voice coming through like a sword, piercing his fogged mind and settling in his ear—

“But even then, you remembered to bring me a bag of my favorite skewers.”

Bian Xu’s eyes glazed over; he shuddered faintly. But there was nothing he could say.

Si Zhiyan needed no reply; he bent down, wiped the sweat from Bian Xu’s brow, and smiled quietly:

“I’m truly touched. Thank you.”

So close, Si Zhiyan’s voice was still so soft, down to a whisper, as he said:

“Whatever you want to do, whatever friends you want to make… I won’t interfere.”

“But there’s one thing, and on this I must be absolutely clear. Just this one thing, you must understand—no matter what.”