C77 – Seeing is not Believing

The bone structure of the wings had yet to fully form, hanging softly behind his back, but their outline was already clear.

They were wings that should have belonged to a predator—thin and resplendent, catching the sunlight pouring in from the doorway and scattering it into brilliant, fragmented light.

Almost dazzling.

Ye Yanzhi’s fingers rested lightly on them, stroking the smooth, satin-like surface. Almost the moment he touched them, Kou Dong shivered.

“Don’t move,” he whispered, feeling as though a current of electricity ran from the crown of his head all the way down, making his scalp tingle. He instinctively hunched his shoulders, trying to avoid that hand. “Feels kind of strange…”

He still couldn’t see what had appeared behind him, but the three others could see clearly. Song Hong’s expression had already changed, and he hesitated, unsure where to begin.

“Kou Dong…”

From his tone, Kou Dong sensed something.

“…What is it?”

He lifted his eyes, skipping the others and looking straight at the person closest to him—Ye Yanzhi.

“What grew on my back?”

Ye Yanzhi didn’t answer. Instead, he took the boy’s hand and slowly guided it, teaching him to reach up from his lower back.

With just a light touch, his fingers brushed the base of the wings.

Soft.

Kou Dong involuntarily flinched again. Only then did he understand what had happened to him.

He had grown wings.

He stared blankly at Ye Yanzhi, momentarily at a loss, murmuring, “…Cub…”

The youth’s once-cold features softened abruptly, and he gently stroked the pair of trembling, newly-formed wings in a soothing manner.

“It’s okay.”

Kou Dong still felt uneasy. What did such a change mean? Would he, like the predators, degenerate into a monster that fed on human emotions?

At some point, Ye Yanzhi tilted his chin up and said quietly, “Open your mouth.”

Kou Dong parted his lips slightly, still not understanding why.

The youth leaned down to inspect. Inside, there was only a neat row of white teeth and a still, quiet tongue—no vicious, hunting mouthparts like the predators had.

“Not a complete assimilation,” he said calmly at last, releasing him. “Even if it were full assimilation, it wouldn’t happen this quickly. — You should only have the wings.”

This conclusion made Song Hong and Ah Xue breathe a sigh of relief, though they still found it hard to believe.

“So all that effort earlier… was just to make Kou Dong grow wings?”

What kind of twisted fetish was that?

But one glance at Kou Dong made them feel it wasn’t entirely incomprehensible. He was still a sixteen or seventeen-year-old boy, his frame not yet fully grown, carrying a natural delicacy and flexibility.

Now, with a pair of wings on such a body, it was as though some intoxicating quality in him had been pushed to its extreme.

That fragile, tender beauty—like a flower branch—was exactly what could stir a desire to possess and torment.

Anyone else who saw him would want to lock him away in a cage.

Knowing he wouldn’t turn into a complete monster, Kou Dong finally felt some relief. He tugged on Ye Yanzhi, asking him to take a photo so he could see.

Aside from being called “Dad,” Ye Yanzhi never refused any of his requests, so he took the picture.

Kou Dong stared at it over and over, his eyes full of disbelief. Song Hong and Ah Xue, afraid the incident would affect his state of mind, tried to comfort him.

“It’s fine. I don’t think it’ll affect you much.”

The result, after staring for a long time, Kou Dong finally said, “It actually looks pretty nice.”

Song Hong: “…”

Kou Dong: “This kind of blue looks quite expensive, like some rare species of butterfly.”

As he spoke, he let out a faint sigh. “Luckily… when you first told me, I thought it was one of those big white fluttering moths…”

Song Hong: “…”

So that was what he was worried about?

The little girl beside them crossed her arms and turned to Ye Yanzhi.

“There are still seven hours left. Are you sure this change will only appear on his back?”

Ye Yanzhi’s expression was grim and his lips were tightly pressed together; he didn’t answer.

“I don’t want to think in that direction,” Ah Xue sighed softly. “But—those things take orders from that psychology teacher.”

She didn’t finish the rest of her sentence, but Kou Dong understood.

Now, he too had been partially transformed into a predator.

His actions… could they also be controlled by that young psychology teacher?

“I’m not worried he’ll use this against us,” the girl pointed at the other three. “If we were the target, there’d be no need to use him as bait.”

Then she turned her gaze toward Kou Dong.

“But what if his target has been you from the start? If you were controlled, would you fly right into his trap?”

Kou Dong shivered at that thought.

Judging from the current situation, that psychology teacher’s perversion was on par with that mermaid who had nothing on his mind but stuffing and stuffing—if he fell into the man’s hands, what good could come of it?

Frightened, he immediately clung tightly to his “son’s” arm, hoping to gain some sense of security from him.

After a long moment, Ye Yanzhi finally spoke. “That guess isn’t impossible.”

Kou Dong: “…”

He pressed himself even closer to his “son.” Others were delicate little birds leaning into people for comfort—he was now a delicate little lucky butterfly leaning into someone. Fortunately, he looked soft enough that Ye Yanzhi, seeing him, even reached out to wrap an arm around him.

“It’s fine,” Ye Yanzhi whispered, comforting him. “I’ll be by your side.”

Kou Dong still felt uneasy. If he really flapped away, everyone else on the ground only had legs—they couldn’t keep up with him.

He suggested, “Why don’t we tie me up with a rope?”

In that instant, maybe it was an illusion, but he thought his “son’s” eyes lit up.

When he looked again, Ye Yanzhi’s face was calm as ever, simply agreeing, “Good idea.”

They went back into the warehouse and easily found a roll of nylon cord used for tying boxes. The four of them tested it together—it was quite sturdy. Ah Xue used her knife to cut off a long piece, tying one end to Kou Dong and the other to Ye Yanzhi.

Choosing Ye Yanzhi as the one to hold the rope wasn’t controversial at all. To Kou Dong, they were father and son; to Song Hong and Ah Xue, they had that “special” relationship. Besides, Ye Yanzhi was the strongest in combat, and if Kou Dong really tried to fly away, he could drag him right back.

With the safety rope, Kou Dong couldn’t stray too far from his “son.” If he walked a few steps away, Ye Yanzhi could tug the rope and pull him back—pulling hard enough might even make him stumble straight into his arms.

This made the “old father” feel a little awkward for a moment.

This thing felt just like one of those child leashes… except, why was it the father being leashed, not the child?

Once the rope was secured, the group carried Teacher Mo’s corpse back into the warehouse, a trace of sadness inevitably rising in their hearts.

Today was the last day—just a few more hours, and they could leave this instance and return to the real world.

But just when they were one step away from success, another companion still fell.

“We found out too late,” Song Hong said quietly. “If only we hadn’t let him go out…”

But deep down, he knew this was useless talk.

There was no such thing as “if only” or “what if” in this world. That seed had already been planted in Teacher Mo’s heart back then— even if it hadn’t sprouted at the time, every minute and every second afterward still held the possibility that it might sprout and bloom. His life was never truly safe.

Not everyone had Ah Xue’s self-control, and not everyone could survive in such harsh conditions.

But he really was a good teacher.

For that alone, Song Hong didn’t want him to be discarded here like an ordinary player’s corpse.

In the end, they found a soft mat and laid him on it. The game wouldn’t give them time to bury a teammate, so they could only close his eyes and mouth, and switch off the warehouse lights for him.

Once his eyes were shut, Teacher Mo looked as though he had fallen into a peaceful sleep.

“Let’s go,” Song Hong said softly. “We can’t stay here…”

They stood up, leaving one after another. Since the predator had managed to hatch from inside Teacher Mo’s body, this place clearly was no longer safe. They would have to search for a new hideout.

The four of them skulked around the small buildings at the edge, switching hiding spots several times.

During this time, Kou Dong’s wings gradually grew stronger—changing from a small pair into large, beautiful wings that hung down to touch the back of his knees.

He gave them an experimental flap, and somehow, without a single lesson, he actually lifted off from the ground, circling low in the air.

Kou Dong: “…Whoa.”

He— was up in the sky.

One word: badass!

Ye Yanzhi tugged the rope silently, reeling him in like a kite, pulling the little butterfly who was happily fluttering about back toward him. Kou Dong was forced to flap closer bit by bit until his face was nearly touching the boy’s; he looked rather displeased. “I’m not done flying yet.”

“Careful not to be seen,” Ye Yanzhi said calmly.

He didn’t like Kou Dong being too far from him— even the length of a single rope felt barely tolerable. Only once Kou Dong obediently nestled into his arm did Ye Yanzhi’s breathing ease a little. His lips brushed lightly against the edge of those wings.

Kou Dong felt them twitch, a faint tingle running up to his scalp, making him let out a reluctant hum.

The wings had torn open the back of his clothing, and through the gap one could glimpse the elegant joints beneath.

Ye Yanzhi pulled his gaze back and asked casually, “Does it still hurt?”

Once the growth was complete, Kou Dong no longer felt pain. He shook his head, hesitated for a moment, then admitted honestly, “Just a little itchy.”

“…Itchy?”

The boy’s breath brushed his cheek. Kou Dong looked up and saw those pitch-black eyes.

“I’ll rub it for you,” Ye Yanzhi murmured.

He acted without leaving any room for refusal; he placed both hands on Kou Dong’s back, fingers slightly curved as he scratched gently at the wing’s base. Kou Dong shivered, feeling as though every bone in his body had been put into an oven—roasting him until he was soft, numb and weak. He instinctively used his hands to push the boy away.

“No need, don’t scratch—”

“Don’t fuss,” the boy said, his fingers moving even more lightly over that spot.

Kou Dong could hardly describe the sensation—it was like a mischievous child sweeping a feather over the soles of his feet. He could even feel his blood rushing faster through his veins.

If cells could grow mouths, right now every single one of his would be screaming.

He wanted to fly away, but his body wouldn’t obey at all—slowly, he collapsed onto the boy’s shoulder. Ye Yanzhi held him with ease, and when he saw Kou Dong biting his lip and staying silent for a long time, he finally asked:

“All better?”

Kou Dong very much wanted to shout a loud What the hell.

—Better? Not even close.

Honestly, his faucet was running full blast right now.

Father Kou wavered between shame and honesty, pressing himself close to his son, trying to wait until he calmed down—preferably dried up too. But Ye Yanzhi just had to lift him slightly at that moment, look him in the face, and ask:

“What’s wrong?”

You’re asking me?! You actually have the face to ask?!!

Kou Dong was practically furious to death, but this was his son—what could he do? He couldn’t very well blame the boy for a bit of filial devotion.

After thinking it over, the real fault lay with this per-verted NPC—what kind of messed-up attribute was this supposed to be!

He was honestly thankful the school uniform was loose, so it didn’t show. All he could do was say dryly,

“It’s nothing. I just… want to be alone for a bit.”

The little butterfly pulled on the rope tied around his waist and went off to squat alone in a corner, hugging his knees.

Ye Yanzhi stood there, then arched a brow slightly, bringing the hand that had touched the boy’s clothes to his nose.

“…”

He lifted his gaze again to look at the person in the corner. Kou Dong, wings drooping, was still lost in disbelief.

…Why on earth had he gotten excited?

Excited about what?

Before he could come up with a reasonable, convincing explanation, he suddenly heard a low chuckle.

The laugh was exactly the same as the one he had heard at night—every night when a sacrifice appeared. By now, Kou Dong knew it belonged to the school’s psychology teacher.

His heart clenched, and he instantly tensed up.

“It’s time to come back.”

The voice was low and gentle, like he was talking to his lover. The syllables were moist, saturated with some kind of magic, like the sirens of the deep sea luring travelers to their doom.

“It’s time to come back—”

“My one and only treasure.”

“My butterfly.”

His thoughts seemed to fall into a pool of warm water, gradually melting away beyond retrieval. Before his eyes was a haze—vaguely, he seemed to see the door of his real-life home, and behind it stood the smiling psychology teacher. Light-colored pupils stared deeply at him, a hand reaching out to wrap around his back—

The restraint around his waist suddenly tightened, like a barrier slamming between him and the illusion. Kou Dong’s thoughts broke the surface like a drowning man gasping for air. He realized Ye Yanzhi was gripping the rope tightly, yanking him back to his side.

Song Hong and Ah Xue’s hands were also holding onto the rope, foreheads beaded with sweat.

“You suddenly just flew up! And you were really strong—thankfully Yanzhi reacted fast and was already watching you…”

Song Hong patted his chest, still shaken.

“If we’d slipped up even a little, Yanzhi might’ve been dragged out with you.”

If both of them were taken, things would’ve gotten much worse.

Ye Yanzhi held the person in his arms firmly, his expression dark.

“You heard it?”

Kou Dong nodded.

“I did. His voice really wasn’t right—it could control my actions for a short time.”

Luckily, they had anticipated this possibility and tied the two together with a rope. Otherwise, with how suddenly it happened just now, Kou Dong would’ve spread his wings and flown off before anyone could stop him.

Song Hong said that the method was indeed effective, but still not secure enough.

He suggested another idea: “How about you don’t fly, and don’t walk either? I think Yanzhi has pretty good stamina—why not just tie you to his back?”

Tie the wings along with him too, that’d be safe.

Once this suggestion came up, Ye Yanzhi’s expression eased, and he nodded in strong agreement.

Kou Dong said, “Wouldn’t that make me completely useless?”

Why did being carried on someone’s back sound so much like someone carrying his bride?

Ye Yanzhi: “You could also choose to be carried in my arms.”

Kou Dong shivered and said that the back would be fine.

Being carried on someone’s back was already embarrassing enough; if he went around carrying him in his arms, he’d go into self-imposed exile on the spot.

He tried to convince himself—it was just early practice for old age. After all, when elderly people got sick, their children usually carried them up and down the stairs; nothing was wrong with that at all.

The remaining rope was still with Ah Xue, and she immediately took it out and tied the two together without a second thought. Kou Dong’s calves dangled on either side of the boy’s body as he tried to protest, “Isn’t this too tight?”

It was so tight it was actually making him feel a little awkward, rubbing and pressing like this…

No one paid him any attention. Song Hong even patted the rope and said, “We could still make it tighter here.”

When Kou Dong tried to protest again, the young girl scolded him, “Didn’t you see how strong you were just now? Best keep quiet.”

Did he really not understand how dangerous it was?

Kou Dong: “…”

Sigh, he was truly wronged.

His wings were rolled up and forcibly tied down. Once they had him trussed up like a rice dumpling, the group looked at their handiwork with satisfaction.

“Like this, I don’t believe he could still be taken away!”

Kou Dong’s feelings were complicated—this was the first time in a copy he’d been treated in such a bizarre way.

He rested his face against his boy’s back.

Ye Yanzhi looked slender, but his shoulders were broad. Kou Dong was carried very securely, with no discomfort—he just couldn’t help asking, “What if I want to go to the bathroom?”

Song Hong coughed and muttered, “Then let Yanzhi help you. It’s not… not a big deal.”

Compared to life and death, nothing was a big deal.

Kou Dong: “…”

He was completely out of words.

Meanwhile, he once again heard the voice of the psychology teacher.

Like sirens rising from the deep sea, the voice tempted him, urging him closer.

“Come…”

“Come, my child.”

“Return to my arms.”

The voice grew clearer and more alluring with each call. Kou Dong felt a faint heat building in his wings, and if he weren’t bound at that moment, they might have already spread open and flown straight toward the owner of that voice, no matter the cost.

Only—he still harbored a hidden worry in his heart.

Could he really escape the NPC’s grasp?

 

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