Chapter 40 Am I Evil?

The candle gently swayed, the scent of paraffin diffusing into every corner of the room. Yan Zhuo closed the door, seeing a small clump of ash gathered on the floor.

Qu Yan held something between his fingertips as he brought it close to the candle flame. The flame curled upward, staining his face in warm hues, yet his expression remained completely blank, like a jade statue devoid of emotion.

The thin slip of paper quickly burned away, turning into ash that fell from his hand. Qu Yan gently curled his fingers, as if he had been burned.

Yan Zhuo hung his coat on the rack by the door and asked, "What are you burning?" A gust of wind followed his approaching steps, causing the ashes on the floor to flutter slightly before settling back into silence a few seconds later.

Noticing his torn collar, Qu Yan blinked and said, "Old photos. Nothing of importance."

Old photos? Yan Zhuo lowered his gaze, finding no trace left behind aside from the ashes, much like his own self, which was a blank space in Qu Yan's memory.

"What happened to your clothes?" Qu Yan looked up at him.

Yan Zhuo's shins touched the bed, and he sat down naturally, meeting Qu Yan's eyes. "Qu Zizhi tore them."

He watched Qu Yan's expression, feeling a hint of nervousness. "He saw the bite mark on my collarbone and asked what it was, and whether you gave it to him."

Even though he was merely speaking the truth, he felt an extraordinary sense of guilt.

He desperately needed some proof—proof that Qu Yan felt differently about him.

If the photos representing past memories were burned away, what about himself, who could only attract Qu Yan with his body? When would he, too, be discarded?

Yan Zhuo did not want to be thrown away by Qu Yan, so he willingly allowed his body to be toyed with, suppressing his desires and instincts, transforming into a caged beast solely to win a fraction of Qu Yan's pleasure.

Yet, his unease could not be resolved; the more he cared, the more terrified he became.

Yan Zhuo looked at Qu Yan across from him, his gaze resting vaguely upon Qu Yan's brow bone.

Qu Yan frowned, causing Yan Zhuo's heart to beat faster in tandem. Then he saw Qu Yan turn his head away, revealing the exquisitely graceful curve of his neck.

In an instant, the blood in Yan Zhuo's veins froze. Qu Yan did not care about him.

His mind went blank for a fraction of a second, and he spoke in a panicked tone, "I don't like him. From now on... from now on, I won't. A-Yan, don't be angry."

He leaned forward, pressing both hands onto the armrests of the wheelchair, enclosing Qu Yan in his embrace across the empty air.

Qu Yan raised his head slightly, helping him straighten his torn collar. "I'm not angry."

Qu Zizhi was nothing more than a pathetic clown, not worth spending any thought on. He simply had no interest in opponents of such inferior caliber.

He offered this comfort, completely unaware that his words at that moment were having the exact opposite effect.

Yan Zhuo fell silent in a flash, and Qu Yan brought up the events of that afternoon. "Weren't you very curious about how they managed to leave the second floor?"

On the second floor of the milk tea shop, the high school siblings and their unconscious companion had vanished without a trace, prompting Song Chengfeng to jokingly remark at the time that they must have grown wings and flown away.

"The ability Yang Tan awakened is flight. After waking up from her unconscious state, she wasn't entirely lucid, so she grabbed them and flew out the window."

Yang Tan was the girl who had come to deliver the photos that afternoon. When talking about her ability, she had worn a complaining expression, stating that her power was useless in combat and only served for escaping. However, because she had been carrying the high school siblings through the air the entire way, a layer of sturdy muscle had accumulated on both of her arms—the only thing she was satisfied with.

"She came over today to thank me." Pausing here, Qu Yan's tone hitched slightly. "Thank me? No, I should be thanking you instead."

He hadn't had any benevolent intentions at the time, but Yan Zhuo had genuinely wanted to help them.

He pinched Yan Zhuo's ear, teasingly asking, "Isn't that right, kind Yan Zhuo?"

Only a kind Yan Zhuo would have secretly loved a version of himself that fed stray cats.

No, it should be the past version of himself.

Annoyance welled up in Qu Yan again, breeding a sense of disgust even toward his former self.

Vines silently drilled out from the floor, and under Qu Yan's command, they familiarly climbed up Yan Zhuo's calves.

Yan Zhuo let out a soft murmur without resisting.

It was an attitude of effortless acquiescence. Qu Yan curved his lips, his eyes filled with pleasure and excitement.

Like a long serpent crawling over his body, this time the vines did not bind him as they usually did. The hem of his shirt was pushed upward, and the vines burrowed inside, wrapping around his waist before continuing upward.

The damp coolness belonging to a plant transferred onto his skin, making Yan Zhuo shudder as he hesitantly called out, "A-Yan?"

Fully clothed, he sat on the bed with