31: Chapter 31 Each Person's Night

On the computer screen, the Tarnished had been standing in front of the checkpoint in Elden Ring for over twenty minutes.

Huang Mao leaned back against his ergonomic chair; although his gaze was fixed on the screen, his focus had long since drifted.

He lifted his left hand and held it before his eyes.

On his wrist, the strength of Leng Qingxuan's grip seemed to still linger.

That sensation was truly peculiar; her fingers were slender and cool, like a piece of fine mutton-fat jade, yet her palm was slightly damp and burning hot.

That was sweat caused by nervousness.

"Equivalent exchange…"

Huang Mao repeated the phrase in a low voice, then let out a chuckle that held an ambiguous meaning.

This girl was truly a genius of logic.

She had forcibly packaged that flirtatious behavior, filled with the scent of hormones, into a serious academic seminar and debt settlement.

The most absurd part was that this ridiculous logic had damn well pierced through his defense mechanisms.

If Leng Qingxuan had been crying and begging for comfort, or if she had pounced on him like a nightclub queen, Huang Mao would have had a hundred ways to make her calm down and then politely show her out.

After all, he was well-versed in dealing with "emotional" and "vulgar" situations.

But she had insisted on using an extremely rational method to do an extremely irrational thing.

She was like a surgeon holding a scalpel, precisely slicing through his thick bulletproof vest named "rationality," and then stuffing a grenade named "desire" inside.

Finally, she had even thoughtfully adjusted his collar, saying it was for the sake of medical progress.

"Truly… lacking in martial virtue."

Huang Mao lowered his hand, his fingertips tapping unconsciously on the desktop.

He had to admit that in that moment, his "sage mode" had failed.

If not for that final moment when Leng Qingxuan had fled due to overload herself…

If Leng Qingxuan had continued…

Huang Mao's Adam's apple bobbed, and he felt his throat go dry.

He picked up the boiled water on the table and downed a large gulp.

The cold liquid slid down his esophagus, slightly suppressing the restless heat within his body.

"It seems the peaceful life I imagined is, in all likelihood, completely finished."

Huang Mao sighed and turned off the monitor.

In fact, he should have realized this back when he saw Leng Qingxuan standing at his doorstep, dragging that pink suitcase.

This house was originally an absolute territory he had established to escape worldly disturbances and peacefully be a salted-fish NPC.

Now, it had turned into a hunting ground for two hunters.

And he was the prey they had targeted.

According to his usual personality, when facing this kind of uncontrollable risk, the optimal solution would be to immediately cut losses and find a way to send these two troublemakers away.

But…

Huang Mao closed his eyes, and his mind conjured up Leng Qingxuan's flushed face and her trembling declaration.

"Prepared to bear the consequences…"

That sense of contrast—where she was clearly embarrassed to death yet still insisted on pushing forward—also stirred up an emotion in him called "anticipation."

"Completely voluntary, huh…"

"Then let's see what other tricks you two can come up with."

Next door, in the guest bedroom.

The heavy curtains shut out the moonlight, leaving the room in pitch darkness.

Leng Qingxuan was curled up in her quilt like a silkworm forming a cocoon.

The air conditioning was set to 20 degrees, but she still felt hot.

That heat didn't come from the outside; it originated from within, from the shivering and screaming of every single cell.

"Haa… haa…"

She breathed rapidly under the covers; the feeling of oxygen deprivation made her head dizzy, but she didn't dare poke her head out.

It was as if, the moment she exposed her head, the shame-inducing scene from just now would play out again in the air.

Her right hand.

All of her attention was focused on her right hand.

The fingertips seemed to still retain that heart-palpitating sensation.

It was a real texture, completely different from a silicone mousepad, a body pillow, or any written description.

Hard, burning hot, full of strength, and even… carrying a dangerous pulse.

"So this… is what a 3D man is like."

Leng Qingxuan opened her eyes in the darkness, her gaze shimmering with moisture.

In the past, when watching romance anime or playing otome games, seeing the male lead's naked CGs, she would blush and her heart would race, but that was more of an appreciation based on visual aesthetics.

That was a sense of security from behind a screen.

But just now, that screen had been shattered.

When her fingertips truly touched that living, breathing body, all her theoretical knowledge collapsed in an instant.

That impact was like someone accustomed to playing in a swimming pool being suddenly thrown into a raging ocean.

The saltiness of the seawater, the crashing of the waves, the oppression of the deep sea—everything was so real, so terrifying, yet so… mesmerizing.

She remembered the moment Huang Mao grabbed her wrist.

The strength in that large hand, those eyes that instantly became deep and dark, and the sense of oppression radiating from him.

In that moment, he was no longer that mild-mannered, easygoing male classmate, but a lion that had been awakened.

Was she afraid?

Yes, she was terrified to death at the time, scared enough that her legs went weak and she ran away.

But now, reminiscing…

Leng Qingxuan bit her lower lip, her body trembling slightly under the quilt.

Besides fear, there was more of a craving she had never experienced before.

That craving was like a wildly growing vine, wrapping around her heart, squeezing until it hurt, yet bringing a pleasure that was almost masochistic.

She didn't want to just be that high-and-mighty Iceberg Campus Belle anymore, didn't want to just be that otaku girl obsessed with 2D characters anymore.

She wanted more.

She wanted to understand the real Huang Mao, wanted to touch that burning temperature again, wanted to… completely possess him.

"Mmm…"

Leng Qingxuan let out a moan of unbearable desire.

The temperature inside the quilt grew higher and higher, and her consciousness began to blur.

Driven by an impulse, she lifted a corner of the quilt to let fresh air in, and at the same time, raised the right hand that had just touched Huang Mao.

Borrowing the faint light, she looked at her fingers, her eyes hazy.

The next second, that hand slowly moved downward.

She didn't reach for the phone on the nightstand, nor did she grab the new body pillow she had just bought…

In the guest room.

An Ran lay on the bed in a spread-eagle position, her eyes wide as copper bells, staring fixedly at the chandelier on the ceiling.

Insomnia.

Complete insomnia.

As soon as she closed her eyes, her brain would automatically replay that damn gesture of Leng Qingxuan's from just moments ago.

That open space between thumb and forefinger, that phantom-gripped cylinder…

"Ahhhh! So annoying!"

An Ran sat up abruptly, grabbed her pillow and punched it twice fiercely, then fell back down powerlessly.

As a Sports Student, she was not unfamiliar with human anatomy.

But that "data," if it were true… that was practically a violation of the rules! It was cheating!

"That idiot Huang Mao… he usually looks so gentle and refined, how could he hide something like that so deep?"

An Ran buried her face in the pillow, her voice muffled.

All this time, her impression of Huang Mao had remained within a relatively safe comfort zone.

He was the neighbor-brother who would help her delete junk files from her C drive, cook for her, and play games with her when she was sad.

Although he was occasionally sharp-tongued and always played dumb, in An Ran's heart, he was harmless and controllable.

She had even naively thought that as long as she stayed by his side, eventually things would naturally fall into place, and he would naturally be hers.

But tonight, this "battle report" brought by Leng Qingxuan was like a heavy hammer, ruthlessly smashing her fantasies.

That man not only had a side she didn't know, but also possessed capital sufficient to make any woman feel fear and… obsession.

A sense of crisis.

An unprecedented sense of crisis flooded over An Ran like a tide.

It wasn't just because of the existence of Leng Qingxuan as a formidable romantic rival, but also because she suddenly realized that her understanding of Huang Mao might not even be as good as this "outsider" who had only moved in two days ago.

Leng Qingxuan dared to launch a night raid wearing black silk stockings, dared to use that shameful excuse to touch him, and even dared to test the boundaries of that danger.

And what about her?

Besides silently liking him in her heart, besides using tsundere to hide her shyness, besides worrying anxiously outside the door like a fool, what else had she done?

"If things go on like this…"

An Ran turned over, lying on her side, watching the moonlight outside the window.

Her mind conjured up Leng Qingxuan's face, which, despite being flushed with shame, was full of determination.

Although that woman had eventually run away, it was a strategic retreat.

With that persistence of Leng Qingxuan's—the kind that would keep her up without sleep just to beat a game—this failure would only lead her to summarize her experience and come back again next time.

Moreover, with this "intimate contact," the layer of window paper between her and Huang Mao had already been half-punctured.

What about next time?

Tomorrow night? The night after?

If Leng Qingxuan didn't run away next time, if Huang Mao didn't hold back…

Thinking of this, An Ran's heart contracted violently, and a wave of soreness surged into her nasal cavity.

No.

Absolutely not.

That was the tower she had guarded for over ten years; that was the groom she had reserved since childhood.

"I also have to… do something."

An Ran clenched her fists in the darkness, her nails digging deep into her palms.

That fear of the unknown, that apprehension regarding those "terrifying specifications," were, at this moment, overwhelmed by the panic of losing Huang Mao.

Isn't it just… a little bigger?

An Ran gritted her teeth, her cheeks burning, but her gaze gradually became resolute.

As long as it was for Huang Mao, as long as she could stay by his side…

Even if it was a BOSS of that level, she would steel herself to clear it!

At worst… at worst, she'd just pretend she was running a full marathon; she'd accept it even if she died of exhaustion!

This night, in this seemingly peaceful little villa, three rooms, three people, three completely different sets of thoughts fermented and expanded in the night.

The delicate balance that had been maintained collapsed completely on this night.

New undercurrents were surging and gathering.

The next morning, 6:30.

His biological clock woke Huang Mao up right on time.

Although he hadn't slept soundly last night, with dreams filled with strange tentacles and black silk stockings, it didn't affect his unshakable daily routine.

After washing up and changing into loose loungewear, Huang Mao walked down the stairs, yawning.

As the owner of the house and the only male labor force, he had tacitly accepted preparing meals as his duty.

He calculated today's menu in his head: there was still toast and eggs in the fridge, enough milk, and if he fried a few strips of bacon, making a simple sandwich should be enough to satisfy those two grandmas.

However, when he reached the corner of the first floor and saw the direction of the kitchen, his footsteps stopped abruptly.

The kitchen light was on.

The air was filled with a faint, charred aroma—the smell of egg edges slightly overcooked; it wasn't unpleasant, but rather carried a clumsy sense of domesticity.

A slender figure was standing in front of the stove, with her back to him.

She was wearing the gray apron that originally belonged to Huang Mao; because of the difference in their builds, the apron strings were wrapped around her waist twice, cinching in a breathtakingly slender waist.