Chapter 73: Domestic Violence Against Sheng Wen

When Lin Kuo opened his eyes again, he found himself lying on a large bed. The moment he woke, an overwhelming loneliness wrapped around him, filling him with an inexplicable panic. 

His heart cried out: No, I don’t want this.

Almost instinctively he reached for the phone on the bedside table. The screen was locked and black, but reflected in it was a familiar face—Sheng Wen.

Lin Kuo cursed inwardly. Before he could even worry whether the livestream camera had captured Sheng Wen, the other man had already unlocked the screen. 

Through Sheng Wen’s eyes, Lin Kuo watched the dungeon selection menu open. An infamous, never-before-seen S-rank dungeon glared from the display:

— 《The Fogbound Fortress》 —
Players Required: 2
Difficulty & Type: S‑rank, Solo Dungeon
Rules: Before the fog completely devours the area, find the exit. The fog contains no oxygen.
Rewards: The first to escape may remain in the S Zone. The second will be expelled from the fortress.

Lin Kuo froze for a moment, then a sense of mockery surged through him.

He couldn’t tell whether the feeling of being toyed with came from himself or from Sheng Wen—but it didn’t stop him from cursing the damned fortress.

Sheng Wen tossed the phone aside and rose to wash. 

Compared to Lin Kuo’s quarters, Sheng Wen’s room was a palace. Calling the difference a slum versus a mansion wasn’t enough to capture the gulf.

Attendants waited on the famous God S, serving him without words. Sheng Wen never spoke to them, and they never spoke to him. 

After washing, he went to the dining hall for breakfast, phone in hand. He opened the Fortress livestreams and casually scrolled through the upper district’s channels. 

He clicked one at random, watched for two seconds, then lost interest.

Too weak.

So weak that Sheng Wen thought they’d be dead in a five‑star dungeon long before ever touching the S Zone. 

Lin Kuo could feel Sheng Wen’s hunger for someone—anyone—who might reach the S Zone, someone to finally unlock an S‑rank dungeon with him.

Bored, Sheng Wen ate slowly while flipping through streams—two seconds here, two seconds there—then left. His inbox kept lighting up:

【Li Miu】: S, there’s a five‑star dungeon. Could I trouble you to watch over us?
【Gu Yue】: God S, we’re about to enter a five‑star dungeon—it’s our first attempt. If you could spare the time to supervise, we’d be grateful. Name your price.
…

He was about to reply when his finger slipped—he tapped into a lower‑district stream by accident. Just as he prepared to back out, a cold, cutting voice drifted from the speakers:

“A dog has arrived.”

Sheng Wen: “…”

Lin Kuo: “…”

Lin Kuo could feel Sheng Wen’s interest spark to life; he could hear the man’s inner thought: Let’s see how this arrogant little streamer dies in some bizarre fashion.

So this was what his so‑called boyfriend thought the very first time he saw him. Lin Kuo found it oddly amusing.

From that moment, Lin Kuo relived every impression Sheng Wen had formed of his stream—Why isn’t he dead yet? To that hand of his is quite nice. Perhaps he really could make it to the S Zone.

Sheng Wen lingered in the stream titled [The Dog’s Livestream], watching every reckless move Lin Kuo made. 

Lin Kuo saw all of it, every curious flicker of interest, and instead of anger he found Sheng Wen… rather adorable.

But then Sheng Wen’s interest twisted into something more complicated. Lin Kuo felt a stab of pain deep in his chest. 

Sheng Wen was torn—on one hand, wishing Lin Kuo would reach the S Zone, and on the other, hoping he never would.

The connection with Sheng Wen didn’t last long this time. 

Cloud Mirror seemed to assume Lin Kuo would sink back into the story. Sheng Wen, with sorrowful eyes, gazed at him:

“Boyfriend, won’t you immerse yourself in my story? Won’t you stay with me? It’s so lonely in the S Zone, all alone. Stay with me, won’t you?”

Perhaps because he liked Sheng Wen, the ache was sharper than even the tragic tale of Zhou Mu and Zhang Yi. Cold sweat drenched Lin Kuo’s clothes, plastering them to his skin.

He had no strength left, collapsing almost to his knees. Sheng Wen extended a hand:

“Follow me. Stay with me forever.”

“…Alright.” Lin Kuo’s trembling hand reached out—only to suddenly slam Sheng Wen down and seize a bowl from the table, smashing it hard against his head.

Clang—

The sound of shattering porcelain rang through the dining hall. Lin Kuo glared down at Sheng Wen. Sheng Wen didn’t resist; he only looked at him with sadness.

“Why won’t you stay? Don’t you love me? Is it because you hate the reason I first approached you?”

“I don’t hate you,” Lin Kuo said flatly.

“Then why…” Sheng Wen’s eyes clouded with confusion and disappointment. “Why won’t you stay with me?”

“Because you hid things from me,” Lin Kuo muttered. “I think I know why you’re torn up inside.”

Sheng Wen touched his face.

“If you were someone else, maybe I could let you go. But if I do… I’ll never see you again.”

“Then I’ll beat you up.”

Sheng Wen froze. “…Why?”

“Because you’re starting that same Zhou Mu and Zhang Yi nonsense again.” Lin Kuo scowled, grabbing another bowl and hurling it at Sheng Wen’s head.

Sheng Wen seemed stunned into submission. Finally, Cloud Mirror’s true form flickered through.

“You’re really this violent…? Does Sheng Wen even know?”

“He won’t. I couldn’t bear to hit him,” Lin Kuo replied, then punched Cloud Mirror square in the face. “That’s why I’ll hit you.”

Cloud Mirror: “…”

Crash—

The surrounding scene shattered into countless shards like glass. Everything dissolved.

Under Lin Kuo’s unrelenting blows Cloud Mirror disintegrated into smoke, and when the smoke dispersed, what remained was a single pair of eyes.

Lin Kuo picked them up, then turned toward the swirling, distorted space behind him. 

He didn’t know how much time had passed in the painted scroll, only that he hoped Sheng Wen and the others had already escaped. 

Otherwise, walking out of here would feel like stepping straight into a tiger’s jaws.

Patting his pocket to confirm the roster was still there, Lin Kuo took a deep breath—then stepped into the writhing space.