Chapter 22: The Safest Place Was His Arms

Xie Wuyu was also very quiet; if Pei Liu couldn’t clearly feel the icy embrace binding his limbs, he would have thought there was no one beside him. Even though they were close, he couldn’t hear any breathing, as if Xie Wuyu didn’t need to breathe.

Pei Liu had never slept so close to anyone before. The discomfort completely overshadowed his drowsiness, leaving him too stiff to sleep. Am I overthinking this? Is this just how straight guys act with each other?

He remembered accidentally coming across a question online before, where someone asked if he was bent because he frequently held hands, hugged, sat on his bro’s lap to be fed, slept in the same bed, and even “helped each other out.”

Pei Liu, of course, thought he was.

But the replies underneath were the exact opposite of what he had thought: a whole string of “normal,” “ordinary,” and “as straight as can be.” They claimed this was just how big straight guys messed around—just little tricks, while gays would be secretive and terrified of being found out.

Then, the original poster came back to thank everyone, saying his worries were resolved, and happily went back to eating, sleeping, and “helping each other out” with his good bro.

Pei Liu didn’t understand and was greatly shocked. Later, he even started doubting himself a bit.

Now, combined with the fact that they had supposedly slept like this for the past few nights, Pei Liu felt even more conflicted. After thinking it over, he decided to simply wait until Xie Wuyu fell asleep before shifting to the side.

But the bed wasn’t large. After shifting forward, he was already at the edge, his feet almost hanging off.

Suddenly, the corner of the blanket moved, then moved again, as if someone were tugging at it.

But he was lying on the bed, and Xie Wuyu was beside him—who could be tugging at the blanket from the foot of the bed?

Pei Liu’s breath hitched, his heart stopped beating, and he rapidly yanked his feet back, retreating straight backward until he lightly bumped into the familiar chest, instantly shrinking into a timid quail.

At a time like this, how could he care about whether this was straight or not? Only by pressing tightly against someone did he feel the slightest sense of security.

“What’s wrong?”

A voice came from behind him, breath spilling over his ear, carrying the low, hoarse tone of someone just woken up, sounding tantalizingly ticklish.

Xie Wuyu lazily half-opened his eyes, resting his hand on Pei Liu’s shoulder.

Without thinking, Pei Liu grabbed his hand, lowered his voice, and tried his best to stay calm, though a trace of a tremor still slipped through: “There’s a ghost… pulling my blanket…”

The moment he felt it, a vivid and clear image had instantly popped into his head. This was the downside of watching too many horror movies and having a good memory. When he watched them before, he knew they were fake and would only criticize the makeup or acting for not being scary enough. He never imagined he would actually encounter ghosts one day.

What happened on screen and what happened in reality were two completely different things. He now deeply regretted his past boastfulness.

Xie Wuyu propped himself up on one arm, rising slightly to look toward the foot of the bed.

Indeed, several ghosts were crouching there. Their pale, blueish hands tugged at the blanket hanging off the bed, grinning and drooling, their bell-sized eyes filled with sheer greed for food.

However, they could only stop at the edge of the bed, unable to advance further. The entire bed seemed enclosed by an invisible wall; a closer look would reveal it was formed by a faint layer of condensed black mist. Of course, some persistent ghosts tried to break through, but their grinning faces ended up looking like someone who swallowed a lightbulb and couldn’t get it out—an image of pure, impotent rage.

These ghosts had never seen the entity’s true form; they could only sense that it was an extremely dangerous existence not to be provoked. And right now, Xie Wuyu had concealed his yin energy, disguising himself as an ordinary human, fooling both humans and ghosts alike.

Most ghosts were formed from the resentment and obsessions left behind after a person’s death. They lacked human sentience, driven mostly by a primal instinct for revenge and harm. Simply put, their IQ wasn’t high; it was as if they had regressed into beasts controlled by instinct.

They thought Xie Wuyu was a newly arrived human—an extra dish on the menu.

Xie Wuyu only took one glance, then lay back down without a care, continuing to sleep.

“There’s nothing there. Don’t worry.”

Pei Liu couldn’t help but shrink toward him, wishing he could bury himself in his embrace.

Xie Wuyu pressed down on his shoulder, smiling as he asked: “Didn’t you say I couldn’t hug you?”

Pei Liu froze, remembering his own words. But at a time like this, who could care about that? It’s perfectly normal for straight guys to hug like this.

He tightly gripped Xie Wuyu’s clothes, about to speak, but a hand suddenly pressed against his lower back, pushing him forward until he sank into the cool embrace.

Xie Wuyu said with a smile: “I like sleeping while holding you.”

Being held felt like being wrapped in a tight, secure cocoon. Pei Liu felt much more at ease, uncontrollably relying heavily on Xie Wuyu. Even though they had only known each other for a few days, Pei Liu strangely felt that Xie Wuyu was the person he trusted most, besides his parents.

He wanted to be best friends for life, never separating.

With that thought, Pei Liu, who had expected to be kept awake and unsettled by the ghosts, found himself drifting off to sleep in Xie Wuyu’s arms in no time.

He slept until dawn without a single dream.

He slept so soundly that he naturally didn’t know the so-called human beside him didn’t need sleep at all. He held him, watching him for the entire night, occasionally touching his face, curling his fingers through the ends of his hair, sniffing his neck, with a dark, profound gaze.

Surviving the mouths of ghosts because an entity had its eye on him wasn’t necessarily a good thing. Who knew if he wouldn’t simply become another type of food to be dismantled and devoured?

The next day, the sky was bright, and the sun hung high.

But that had nothing to do with the abandoned villa. It seemed isolated from the world, existing as its own gray zone; the warm sunlight couldn’t penetrate, and it remained cold and gloomy.

Pei Liu opened his eyes and woke up. After a brief moment of grogginess, he felt the arm around his waist, saw the handsome face mere inches away, and the memories of before falling asleep slowly returned, leaving him feeling a bit awkward.

He smiled calmly, withdrew from Xie Wuyu’s embrace, and feigned nonchalance: “You woke up early? Why didn’t you wake me?”

Xie Wuyu also sat up unhurriedly: “You looked like you were sleeping very soundly.”

Pei Liu couldn’t understand how he could sleep so well in such a ghostly environment; he really had a big heart. He thought for a moment, looked at him seriously, and said: “Thank you for last night.”

Unlike most people who would wave it off as nothing, Xie Wuyu accepted it candidly and casually.

Pei Liu went to wash up and change clothes. When everything was done and he was preparing to go downstairs, he saw Xie Wuyu still sitting on the edge of the bed and asked in confusion: “Aren’t you leaving?”

Xie Wuyu stared at him, saying flatly: “I’m not in your group, have you forgotten?”

Pei Liu froze slightly, his eyes losing focus. Two seconds later, something clicked in his mind, and he suddenly remembered: “Oh right, you have other tasks.”

With that, he curled his lips into a smile, waved at Xie Wuyu, his eyes shining like scattered stars, dazzling and bright.

Xie Wuyu watched his figure disappear behind the door. After a while, black mist spread out, lifting the human illusion. Since Pei Liu wasn’t here, there was no need for him to stay. The black mist passed through the door and left.

Although his worldview had been shattered and reconstructed after learning that ghosts truly existed, leaving him completely unsettled, he still had to accept reality. Cowering wouldn’t solve the problem; he had to face it properly.

Pei Liu tried his best to calm down and think. Ghosts must have weaknesses and limitations; otherwise, why hadn’t they been killed the moment they entered?

Moreover, Senior Zhao Hai had mentioned earlier that fear caused yang energy to fluctuate, giving ghosts an opening to attack. He absolutely could not let himself succumb to fear.

This was his first time encountering ghosts, so he couldn’t come up with a detailed, comprehensive plan. He could only take it one step at a time, do his best to survive, and then look for a way out. At the same time, he inevitably hoped the production team would bring rescue. After ten days, they would definitely come to pick them up, right?

The idea was good, but putting it into practice was incredibly difficult.

Pei Liu sat on the sofa with the other guests to eat breakfast. Since they learned of the basement’s existence, none of them were willing to go near the dining table.

However, there were also crimson bloodstains on the sofa.

Before, Pei Liu would have unhesitatingly assumed it was paint, but now he didn’t think so and kept a respectful distance.

Having seen Jian Yongge dancing in the middle of the night wearing a dress, with his personality and behavior seemingly changed into another person, Pei Liu highly suspected he was possessed by a ghost. Fortunately, Jian Yongge was wearing a T-shirt and long pants this morning and looked quite normal. He breathed a sigh of relief.

But that relief didn’t last long.

During breakfast, the group chatted casually. Pei Liu wanted to lighten the tense atmosphere and intentionally brought up conversation topics.

Jian Yongge suddenly said: “Brother Pei, I want to ask you a question.”

Pei Liu didn’t like him very much, but the situation had changed; as long as the other person was human, that was good enough.

“Go ahead,” Pei Liu smiled politely.

Jian Yongge rested his chin on one hand, his elbow suddenly sliding across the table toward him, instantly closing the distance and appearing very intimate. He blinked, smiled, and asked softly: “Do you think I looked pretty wearing that dress yesterday?”

Pei Liu’s calm expression instantly froze; he almost lost his composure, screaming internally.

It’s still a ghost!

But he couldn’t show it, or he would be playing right into the ghost’s hands.

Pei Liu leaned his head back, putting some distance between them, and stammered: “…P-pretty.”

Jian Yongge smiled alluringly: “I thought so too. Then I’ll keep wearing dresses for you to see.”

Pei Liu forced out: “N-no need, you look fine dressed like this.”

“I hate you,” Jian Yongge pushed him lightly, almost coquettishly.

The skin that was touched felt bitingly cold, causing Pei Liu to shrink back involuntarily.

Normally, he would get goosebumps and criticize Jian Yongge for being overly artificial, but knowing this was a female ghost, he didn’t dare have any such thoughts.

After breakfast, they had to continue their tasks. Logically speaking, knowing there were ghosts in the villa, they shouldn’t wander around. But Pei Liu felt that blindly hiding was useless; rather than waiting for the ghosts to come to them, it was better to take the initiative and gather more clues while it was still relatively safe.

The production team didn’t completely fabricate the background story; they usually combined local paranormal rumors, mixing truth with fiction and heavily adapting it to make the plot dramatic and immersive. Therefore, the storyline they uncovered might contain elements of what the ghosts here actually experienced. Knowing oneself and the enemy might not guarantee a hundred victories, but it at least provided more certainty.

Pei Liu walked forward with a firm and calm expression, looking as if he had reverted to his fearless, non-believing state.

Five minutes later.

A man in a torn suit crouched on the floor, crawling toward them rapidly like a spider. His face was entirely blank, devoid of any features.

Wu Kai and the others screamed in terror, turned, and bolted with a speed worthy of the Olympics. A person’s potential truly could be greatly unleashed under fear.

Only Pei Liu was left, leaning expressionlessly against a pillar, seemingly entirely unmoved.

Just a mere ghost; what’s there to be afraid of?

The posture of a boss.

But in reality, his legs had turned to jelly from fear, and he couldn’t move.

‘…Fvck.’

‘It turns out I’m the biggest noob of all.’

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