Accidental Physical Contact

To ensure his sweetheart had the best possible experience when “burying his face,” Peng Biao specifically took a shower before changing. He scrubbed himself until he was fragrant and fresh, without a hint of sweat.

When picking his outfit, he chose a black tank top with a touch of “scheming” design—it featured large armholes and a low neckline that showed just enough to be eye-catching without being fully exposed.

Heart racing and face flushed, Peng Biao hurried downstairs to find the beautiful youth.

“What took you so long?”

Hearing the commotion of someone descending the stairs, Ye Shengge complained softly, turning back to look at the “big dummy.”

Searching for horror movies alone was terrifying; who would have thought the big guy would take over twenty minutes just to change?

When he saw the big dummy’s attire, he finally understood the delay, but he still frowned and asked, “You took a shower?”

The question didn’t really need an answer. One look at Peng Biao’s damp hair and the scent of body wash wafting over from a distance made it obvious.

However, to make the big guy feel a bit guilty, Ye Shengge asked anyway. That way, out of guilt, the man might pay more attention to his requests later. Little did he know that if he’d known a shower was involved, he would have gone to wash up too so he could watch the movie fresh.

“Yeah, I was sweaty, so I took a quick shower. Sorry for the wait. Shall we start the movie now?” Peng Biao was indeed filled with guilt as Ye Shengge expected, and he spoke softly as he initiated the film.

Ye Shengge nodded and said unceremoniously, “Start it. And sit right next to me.” This way, if a ghost appeared, he wouldn’t be as scared.

However, as the saying goes, imagination is beautiful, but reality is cruel.

By the time they finally selected a horror movie and sat down on the sofa to watch, Ye Shengge’s face was already drained of color by the opening credits and the creepy synopsis. The music was unsettling, and the visuals were incredibly immersive. Combined, they were enough to scare anyone to death.

Ye Shengge grew restless, wanting to ask Peng Biao to switch to a different movie. But when he saw the livestream comments reminding him not to forget his goal of “courage training,” he forced himself to swallow those words. He silently scooted a bit closer to the Heavenly Master, as if that proximity would grant him immense courage.

Setting aside the man’s muscular exterior, his status as a Heavenly Master provided a profound sense of security—a feeling that reached its peak during a horror film.

Ye Shengge stared at the screen, his mind drifting, when the first jump-scare arrived.

A shattered, eerie doll in a blood-red dress suddenly appeared in a beautiful wardrobe. The owner of the wardrobe looked as if they had seen the most terrifying thing imaginable; their pupils shrunk, their face contorted in horror, and they were too terrified to make a sound.

Suddenly, a pair of hands—pale as paper—shot into the frame and grabbed the owner’s ankles.

The next second, the screen went black. Accompanied by a scream and the crisp sound of bones snapping, a line of eerie, blood-red subtitles appeared:

“IT’S BACK!”

The screen stayed dark for a full fifteen seconds.

But that wasn’t the scariest part. To enhance the atmosphere, Peng Biao had turned off all the lights in the living room with Ye Shengge’s permission. When the screen went black, the entire room plunged into darkness.

The wind rattled the windows, and the moon was hidden behind thick clouds. The lack of light made the room feel even more menacing.

The atmosphere was perfect, but it far exceeded what the timid, delicate youth could handle. Ye Shengge gripped the hem of his shirt, his breathing slowing down instinctively, afraid that any noise would attract something “unclean.”

The tension was thick.

But the “silly” Peng Biao wasn’t scared at all. He maintained his original posture—or rather, if one looked closely, he had moved much, much closer to the beautiful youth than before. He was just one reach away from pulling his sweetheart into a full embrace.

Seeing how scared the boy was, Peng Biao figured he might not even have to reach out; the boy might jump into his arms on his own.

Thinking of this, Peng Biao’s face turned even redder. He whispered, “If you’re scared, you can lean against me. You can hold onto me, too.”

These words provided great comfort to Ye Shengge. He didn’t hesitate and scooted even closer, until he could feel the heat radiating from the big guy next to him.

This time, there was no fear or distaste—only a sense of security. His eyes sparkled in the dark; he realized he truly didn’t need to be afraid. Even if a real ghost appeared, the Heavenly Master beside him would surely take care of it.

Emboldened, Ye Shengge turned his gaze back to the screen.

Then, the screen flickered back to life.

Just as everyone was wondering if the TV had malfunctioned, a ghost face with tangled hair and bloody, mangled features suddenly lunged at the screen.

“Ah!”

Ye Shengge was startled. His head felt dizzy, and he instinctively tried to burrow into the sofa while reaching out to grab a throw pillow for comfort.

However, he forgot that in order to be closer to the Heavenly Master, he had moved the pillow to the other side. Furthermore, he wasn’t alone on the sofa.

In his frantic attempt to burrow and grab, he missed the pillow entirely. Instead, he dove into something soft yet firm, emitting a scorching heat and a pleasant fragrance.

In his confused state, he didn’t realize what it was. His hand reached out and touched two elastic, firm objects. Not only were they bouncy, but they were also smooth and felt incredibly good to the touch.

Almost on autopilot, his face pressed against the objects, and he even rubbed against them twice out of sheer comfort. The skin-on-skin contact felt amazing. The scent was intoxicating.

After those few rubs, even the trauma and fear from the horror movie were instantly healed.

As he was rubbing and touching, a suppressed, muffled groan sounded from above his head.

Hearing that groan, Ye Shengge—who had never experienced such a “mysterious” sensation before—suddenly realized what was happening. His heart tightened, and he jerked his head up. By the dim moonlight filtering through the window, he looked at where his hands were resting.

The light was faint, but he could make out the silhouette.

When Peng Biao had leaned down to comfort him after the jump-scare, Ye Shengge had accidentally pressed his face—and his hands—directly onto the man’s two large chest muscles.

Those were the same chest muscles Ye Shengge had previously dismissed as being “too big” and “scary-looking.” Back then, he had kept his distance, unable to understand why anyone liked such exaggerated muscles. But now that he had actually touched them… he suddenly understood.

They felt incredible. And burying his face into them provided an overwhelming sense of security. Once you experienced that sensation, it was almost addictive.

Ye Shengge’s face, previously pale from fright, instantly turned a deep crimson.

Too embarrassed to admit his mistake, he decided to “accuse the victim” first. He glared at the Heavenly Master—whose face was just as red and who was looking away, not daring to look down—and said unreasonably: “This isn’t my fault! It’s yours! You said I could hold onto you!”

As he spoke, he realized how unconvincing he sounded. His voice grew smaller and smaller until the last few words were almost inaudible.

Peng Biao had indeed said he could lean on him or hold him, but he never said anything about letting the boy take liberties with his chest or rub against them freely. His behavior was definitely “crossing the line.”

The more Ye Shengge thought about it, the more guilty he felt. He considered apologizing to the “victimized” big guy.

Just then, the System’s cool voice rang out: [Idiot, what are you apologizing for?] Can’t you see this big dummy is so happy he wants to run laps around the villa?

[Oh, I see.] Ye Shengge thought the System was reminding him to stay in character as the Dollmaker.

According to the dungeon’s lore, the Dollmaker’s personality was such that even if he took advantage of someone, he wouldn’t acknowledge his mistake. Instead, he would continue to act entitled. So, an apology was definitely out of the question.

Still, Ye Shengge felt quite bad about it. And what came next made him feel even worse.

“Yeah… it’s my fault,” Peng Biao said suddenly, his eyes looking a bit red.

He looked exactly like a “pitiful little wife” who had been bullied by a profligate son and didn’t dare to resist. He looked utterly pathetic.

Ye Shengge panicked. No one knew that he was the type who responded well to soft treatment but resisted force. If Peng Biao had called him out or scolded him, he wouldn’t have felt so guilty. But Peng Biao chose to face him with this “wronged but silent” expression…

Ye Shengge was at a loss. Then, the big dummy—who seemingly enjoyed making things more chaotic—asked two questions that made the boy’s face burn with heat.

“You… seem to really like my chest muscles.”

“If you want to touch them, or rub against them… you can tell me whenever you want.”

His tone was incredibly serious and his attitude sincere; it was clearly the truth.

But hearing this, Ye Shengge’s face turned even redder. He glared at the man who clearly didn’t understand boundaries: “I’m not like you! I’m not that kind of ‘easy’ person!”

As soon as he said it, he remembered his role as the Dollmaker—who had many “ex-boyfriend dolls” he had slept in the same bed with. From a certain perspective, he wasn’t an “easy” person like the big guy who let people touch him; he was actually a “player.”

Feeling awkward on his own behalf, Ye Shengge quickly spoke before the big guy could respond: “I’m tired. I’m done with the movie. I’m going to shower and sleep.”

Peng Biao, thinking he had been misunderstood, was anxious to explain that he wasn’t “easy”—that only the youth had ever touched his chest, and he’d never worn this revealing tank top in front of anyone else. But hearing that the boy was tired, he prioritized the youth’s health. He lowered his head dejectedly and said in a muffled voice: “Okay… I’ll take you to get washed up then.”

Then he remembered something. His eyes landed on the youth’s clothes, his face flushing deeper as his breathing quickened. “You… didn’t bring pajamas. Do you mind making do with my clothes?”