A Morbid Offer

Yuan Anqing would not actually pin the “Outstanding Citizen” commendation to his wall. He had no desire to give Zhuo a reason to cause a commotion, especially since he required a quiet and peaceful environment to survive his own exhaustion.

However, Zhuo clearly held a grudge. The way the creature stared at him with that sharp, predatory smile sent a recurring shiver down Yuan Anqing’s spine. Zhuo was like a pathologically obsessive admirer, except what he sought was not romantic love, but Yuan Anqing’s very life.

This unsettling smile was briefly interrupted during their meal. It wasn’t that Yuan Anqing’s cooking had impressed Zhuo; quite the opposite, in fact. Zhuo couldn’t help but frown as he tasted the dishes.

Yuan Anqing understood the reaction. Zhuo had likely been fed meals crafted by professional chefs whose skills were exceptional. Yuan Anqing, on the other hand, had never studied cooking. He only knew how to make things palatable and ensure they were thoroughly heated through.

What surprised Yuan Anqing was Zhuo’s silence; he offered no mocking comments. After that initial frown, Zhuo dutifully continued to eat, ultimately finishing three massive bowls of rice.

“Is it because your physique requires more sustenance?” Yuan Anqing asked, genuinely curious. When he wasn’t giggling maniacally or threatening murder, Zhuo appeared no different from a particularly large, brooding student.

“Savior~ My appetite isn’t just ‘a little bit’ larger, you know,” Zhuo said, pinching his index finger and thumb together. That frivolous, dangerous smile returned to his lips. “I need food to feel full. If I get too hungry, what do you think I’d do?”

“Attack humans?” Yuan Anqing guessed.

“Precisely! I would devour those vibrant lifeforms. Especially someone like you, Savior. Your soul is so pure,” Zhuo said, licking his lips with a deliberate, slow stretch of his tongue. “It looks delicious.”

Yuan Anqing nodded, acknowledging the threat as if it were a weather report, and resumed eating his own meal.

Zhuo, having made his grand, terrifying pronouncement, found himself speechless. He truly detested this Savior more and more. The lack of fear was insulting.

After finishing his meal, Yuan Anqing politely inquired, “Can you wash the dishes?”

“Are you provoking me?” Zhuo growled.

“This is called a reasonable division of labor. We’ll be living together for a while—at least until I die. It’s logical to share chores while we’re under the same roof,” Yuan Anqing explained patiently.

“I won’t wash them.” Zhuo was clearly incapable of showing consideration for anyone.

Yuan Anqing didn’t argue. He simply sighed—a sound heavy with the weight of a thousand unpaid overtime hours—and dropped the topic. Zhuo, who had been bracing himself for a fight, watched Yuan Anqing silently rise and begin clearing the table. A surge of frustration choked him. Because Yuan hadn’t pushed back, losing his temper now would only make Zhuo seem childish and petty.

Zhuo took a deep breath, propping his chin on his hands as he watched Yuan Anqing move with mechanical efficiency. “Do people like you even have friends?”

“Not many. Excuse me.” Yuan Anqing was wiping the table, and the cloth brushed near Zhuo’s arm. Zhuo instinctively raised his hand to get out of the way, and Yuan Anqing gave him a polite “thank you.”

Zhuo, whose hand had moved reflexively, clenched his fist. He clicked his tongue and stomped over to the sofa to curl up.

Yuan Anqing glanced back, noticing Zhuo’s back was turned. He surmised his formidable bodyguard had entered a self-imposed isolation. When Yuan Anqing finished the dishes and returned to the living room, Zhuo hadn’t moved.

Has he gone into a sulk? Yuan wondered.

He circled the sofa and discovered Zhuo was actually engrossed in his phone. However, Zhuo’s back was so broad it obscured the screen entirely. He was watching some sort of boring, stream-of-consciousness art film. Yuan Anqing watched for a minute, couldn’t make head or tail of it, and gave up.

“What are you doing?” Zhuo frowned, sensing him.

“Nothing. I’m going to bed. Call me if you want dinner later.” Yuan Anqing waved and turned toward his room.

Dinner? Zhuo didn’t process the offer at first. By the time he realized Yuan was actually going to sleep at 2:00 PM, the bedroom door was already ajar.

Zhuo had assumed the Savior would detest a monster like him. But Yuan Anqing didn’t display aversion; he simply didn’t seem to care. About anything. He wanted to sleep, but it didn’t matter if he was interrupted. He wanted Zhuo to wash dishes, but it didn’t matter if he refused. He didn’t want to be a Savior, but he did it anyway. He was just… drifting.

Moreover, Zhuo’s threats had no effect. The man neither showed fear nor righteous indignation. It sapped Zhuo’s motivation. How boring. No wonder he has no friends.

Zhuo watched the movie for a while longer, then glanced toward the bedroom. Yuan Anqing hadn’t closed the door—likely a concession to Zhuo’s security duties. The man slept too soundly, making no sound, as if he were already a corpse.

“Hey, Savior~” Zhuo called out experimentally.

Yuan Anqing didn’t move. His eyelids didn’t even flutter.

Zhuo stretched out on the sofa, propping his head with one hand. He really wanted to ask the people who assigned him this job if they were sure this man could save anyone. Yuan Anqing looked like he was barely holding onto his own life.

Suddenly, a phone rang.

Yuan Anqing, who had been in a deep sleep, snapped his eyes open instantly. He swiped to answer with terrifying muscle memory. “Hello? This is Yuan Anqing. How may I help you?”

Even as he spoke the professional greeting, his eyes were glazed. He appeared utterly disoriented, his soul hovering somewhere outside his body.

“We’ve found a differentiated individual with extremely low aggression,” Bai Tian’s voice came through the speaker. “Would you be available to come test your abilities?”

“Yes.” Yuan Anqing pressed a hand to his forehead, his brows knitting together in a pained scowl. “I’ll be right over.”

“We appreciate your hard work.”

“It’s fine.”

The call ended. Yuan Anqing sat on the edge of the bed in a daze. He felt like his life was flashing before his eyes, yet simultaneously felt like nothing was happening at all. This stupor persisted until Zhuo walked into the room.

Zhuo looked pleased, smiling sharply. “Are you about to die? You look like you’re about to die.”

“Unfortunately, no.” Yuan Anqing truly wished he hadn’t woken up. But he lacked the courage to end his own life. He looked at Zhuo with a spark of hope. “If you were to eat me, would you bite off my head in one go?”

“Of course.” Zhuo knelt on the floor, resting his head on Yuan Anqing’s thigh in a mock-affectionate gesture. “Are you looking forward to it?”

Yuan Anqing actually nodded.

Zhuo’s smile faltered.

“Biting off the head is instantaneous, right?” Yuan Anqing was genuinely weighing the options. “My life would end right then and there. No more work. No more ‘saving the world.’ No more dragging this broken body around.”

“You’re really quite morbid, aren’t you?” Zhuo moved his head away, annoyed. “I want to eat you, but if you just give yourself to me, it’s boring. I prefer to hunt my prey.” His tail swished across the floor. “Besides, I can’t eat you yet. The leash is too tight.”

“When do you think you’ll be able to break free?” Yuan Anqing pressed. “Can you give me a rough timeframe? A deadline?”

Zhuo’s tail paused. He hadn’t thought about it. “Roughly? Maybe a year?”

“Then, to be safe, let’s say a year and a half.” Yuan Anqing picked up his glasses. “I only have to endure another year and a half of work.”

Zhuo laughed, genuinely exasperated. “Are you treating my promise to murder you as your ‘salvation’?”

“Is it not? If you don’t kill me, I’ll likely have to work for the next five hundred years in this world.” Yuan Anqing stood up and began unbuttoning his shirt. “Though, I’ll probably drop dead of natural causes before then.”

Zhuo stayed on the floor, watching Yuan change clothes with the curious gaze of a predator. Yuan Anqing was 183 centimeters tall—a respectable height, though he seemed small compared to Zhuo’s two-meter frame. He had the lean, efficient physique of someone whose body was maintained by the “Savior” system, regardless of his poor habits.

“Eh?” Zhuo noticed something.

Yuan Anqing followed his gaze and slowly covered his groin with his hand. “Only perverts stare like that.”

“You have a physiological disorder, don’t you?” Zhuo asked, sounding almost pitying. “What a waste of such a good-looking body.”

“I’m fairly sure I’m still wearing underwear,” Yuan Anqing said, quickly pulling on his trousers.

“My eyesight is better than a human’s, Savior. Is it even functional? Can you even feel ‘desire’ anymore?” Zhuo sensed a hint of tension and grew excited.

“I don’t know. My hormones probably withered away years ago during a particularly bad audit season.” Yuan Anqing had grown accustomed to a life without desire. It made things simpler.

Zhuo sat on the edge of the bed, cupping his face in his hands and laughing. “Let me check. Let me touch it.”

“That is sexual harassment,” Yuan Anqing said, clutching his belt.

Zhuo’s tail suddenly whipped forward toward Yuan’s waist. The tip swayed playfully, but Yuan Anqing reacted with surprising speed, reaching out and catching the tail mid-air.

Zhuo’s entire body went rigid. The unfamiliar, invasive sensation of his tail being held made him lash out instinctively. A jolt of red electricity crackled from his scales into Yuan Anqing’s palm.

Yuan Anqing hissed, releasing the tail and shaking his hand.

Simultaneously, Zhuo let out a strangled cry, clutching his own palm as the “control ring” on Yuan’s finger reacted to the attack, flooding Zhuo’s nervous system with agony.

“Bastard! It’s all your fault!” Zhuo wheezed, curling into a ball. “It hurts so much…”

Yuan Anqing, whose hand only felt a slight tingle and some warmth, was speechless. He looked at his palm, then at the massive monster sobbing on his carpet.

This ‘monster’ is incredibly delicate, Yuan thought. Or maybe he’s just never felt pain before because his scales are too thick?

“Why is your defense so weak?!” Zhuo continued to complain, tears pricking his eyes. “How can such a tiny shock hurt me this much through the link?!”

Ah, so that’s it. He’s never been hurt, so his pain tolerance is zero.

“Do you want some ointment?” Yuan Anqing asked.

“Just ointment?” Zhuo looked at him as if he were insane. “Don’t I need a cast? A hospital? I think I’m dying!”

Yuan Anqing: “…”