Death Knocks on Hell’s Door Chapter 67

Chapter 67 Heart in Turmoil

When Yanluo first opened the file, he assumed it was a documentary report. The opening described the little reaper moving into the apartment and living with him.

He had instructed his subordinates to gather as much information as possible on Thanatos and to build a good relationship with the God of Death. Granny Meng, at least, had been diligent in her task. She had written an observation report so detailed it could almost be called a diary. This work ethic deserves praise.

However, the further he read, the more he felt that something was seriously wrong.

When did he pin the little reaper against a wall and kiss him breathless? That wasn’t realistic either. The God of Death didn’t even need to breathe. No, from the moment they started kissing against the wall, the story had already strayed far from reality.

When had he ever stripped off the little reaper’s black robe in the bedroom and done this and that to him? And not just in the bedroom, there were mentions of the staircase, the bathtub, the balcony. To this day, he didn’t even know what the little reaper looked like beneath that robe.

And how could he be so cruel as to push the little reaper to tears, forcing him to beg for mercy and still not letting go? If the little reaper ever cried, he would be utterly beside himself, scrambling for ways to comfort him.

What was this nonsense? He could barely stand to read this slander. It was ruining his reputation and tainting the little reaper’s innocence.

Yanluo shut the document with a sharp click, his face burning, perhaps from anger, or perhaps mixed with other unspeakable emotions.

He treated the little reaper like a younger brother, yet his subordinates dared to fabricate something like this? They must have lost their minds.

Yanluo laughed angrily, his fingers tapping on the keyboard, typing out a line: What kind of feedback are you looking for?

The group chat was silent for what felt like an eternity.

Granny Meng retracted a message.

Granny Meng retracted a message.

Granny Meng retracted a message.

Granny Meng left the group chat.

Did the Greek underworld happen to be hiring? She was seriously considering switching pantheons. She couldn’t survive in this one any longer.

Although Meng Wan had quit the chat, she hadn’t dared to delete Yanluo from her contacts. Removing her boss from her friend list? She wasn’t that reckless.

A private message from Yanluo popped up instantly: If you don’t rejoin in three seconds, consider your salary gone, for life.

One second later, Granny Meng rejoined the group chat.

Yanluo: Why so quiet? Weren’t you all quite bold just moments ago? I know you’ve been running a private group to gossip about me. I was willing to turn a blind eye, but I never imagined that your discussions would stray into such fantasies.

Yanluo: I have a perfectly clean and honorable relationship with the God of Death. If any of you dare to entertain these ridiculous thoughts again, you can spend eternity reflecting in the depths of hell. This year’s year-end bonus is canceled.

No one dared to say a word.

After a long silence, Zhong Kui finally spoke on behalf of everyone: Is it just Granny Meng’s year-end bonus that’s canceled?

Yanluo: Everyone. Granny Meng’s is canceled for two years.

Meng Wan’s slip-up was too obvious. No one would believe the others weren’t involved. Not a single one of them would escape.

The group chat erupted into wails of despair, but no one dared to argue. After all, when Granny Meng had announced her plan to write fanfiction, none of them had tried to stop her. If anything, they had been eagerly pushing her for updates.

Having dealt with his carefree subordinates, Yanluo shut off his phone with an icy expression and headed upstairs to turn in for the night.

But the moment he stepped onto the previously unremarkable staircase, an image from that damned document flashed through his mind in vivid, almost tangible detail.

In the story, he had carried the little reaper all the way from the first floor to the fourth. With every step, the God of Death had clung to him, panting softly against his shoulder, eyes brimming with tears that dripped onto the steps. The staircase, a mere passage to the upper floors, had been stretched into something endless, winding forever.

“……”

Yanluo’s foot suddenly felt as heavy as lead. The stairs beneath him, too, seemed to stretch endlessly, as if they would never reach an end.

By the time he finally reached the fourth floor, he cast an incredulous glance downward.

……Had he seriously gotten hard from climbing a flight of stairs?

A flush of color spread across his usually pale, indifferent face. He didn’t dare look toward Thanatos’ closed bedroom door, nor did he dare glance at the corner of the living room. That would only make him imagine pressing the little reaper against the wall and kissing him breathless.

Without hesitation, he yanked open his own door, slipped inside, and climbed into bed, pulling the blanket over himself as if that alone could smother his unruly thoughts. He shut his eyes, forcing himself to calm down.

Yanluo had always lived a life of self-discipline and restraint. He had never indulged in such thoughts, never even so much as touched himself. He had really lived his life like a Bodhisattva. Even now, when his body reacted, he had no intention of taking care of it. He would simply wait for it to subside.

However…… even a staircase could be described by Meng Wan in such a creative way, let alone a bedroom, which was the climax of the scene. Yanluo tried to empty his mind, but instead, even more indescribable images flooded in.

Not only did it not calm down, but it also became even more unbearable.

Expressionless, he opened his eyes, got out of bed, and strode toward the bathroom, deciding to take a cold shower.

Cold water worked like a charm. As the icy stream poured over him, King Yan felt the unruly Second King Yan finally settle down.

Stepping out of the shower, he wiped his half-damp hair while glancing up at the mirror. He saw the reflection of the bathtub behind him, and his hands suddenly froze.

The mirror and bathtub had also been featured in that document.

The moment the thought formed, his body responded once more.

Yanluo lowered his gaze, silently dropped the towel, and walked straight back into the shower.

That last round had been completely pointless.

It took several more cold showers before he finally stepped out of the bathroom. This time, he didn’t dare return to bed. If he lay down, those unspeakable scenes would only resurface.

Dressed in nothing but a thin nightrobe, his long hair still damp, he decided to go to the balcony and let the night air cool him down.

Outside, the sky was a deep expanse of clouds and moonlight. The night was dark and quiet, and the breeze carried a lingering chill.

Yanluo stood by the railing, the night wind blowing his long, ink-black hair. Dressed in white, he looked like an immortal who could ride the wind and vanish into the night at any moment.

But as he gripped the railing, his thoughts were filled with the image of himself pressing the little reaper against this very railing. The little reaper, half-suspended over the edge, tightly clung to him in fear of falling……

Yes, this was the balcony scene.

Meng Wan truly had a gift. She didn’t miss a single spot.

At this point, there was no place left in the apartment he could look at normally.

Defeated, Yanluo gave up resisting. He returned to his room, climbed into bed, and pulled the blanket over himself. His cool, sculpted features flickered with hesitation before he finally slipper a hand beneath the covers.

……

After washing his hands, Yanluo collapsed onto the bed, letting himself fall into a slumber.

Yanluo rarely dreamed. As a powerful god, the few dreams he did have were always prophetic visions.

But that night, he dreamed of boundless spring scenery.

In his dream, a young man stood before him. He was tall and slender, with long, graceful legs and wrists as delicate as white jade. His fingers were slim, beautiful, yet so small they could be completely enveloped in Yanluo’s palm. Although the youth’s face remained blurry, his voice was unmistakably soft and gentle, fractured into something breathless and intoxicating. Then he raised the young man’s chin and kissed those red lips……

When he woke up in the morning and saw the sheets that needed to be changed, Yanluo was no longer surprised.

And he was still hard.

Lowering his gaze, he began to contemplate how things had come to this.

He had never seen the little reaper’s face before. Even in his dream, the young man’s features had been a blur. But somehow, he knew that the person in his dream had been the little reaper.

Was this a premonition? Or was it nothing more than his own delusion?

For the first time in a long while, Yanluo felt unsettled.

Before reading the document Granny Meng had sent last night, he had always regarded the little reaper as a younger brother. Or rather, he had thought he had always regarded the little reaper as a younger brother. He had never entertained any other possibility.

Yanluo had never experienced love and had never believed he would. His interest in Thanatos stemmed purely from professional curiosity about the Western God of Death. When he learned of the little reaper’s burdens, he felt pity for him, as if they shared the same plight. He couldn’t help but want to enlighten and comfort him. And as time went on, he also found the little reaper to be very kind and lovely.

Such a younger brother was worthy of his heartache, someone he couldn’t help but dote on endlessly.

But…… would an older brother ever think about taking his younger brother to bed?

A gentleman should walk the righteous path. Yanluo had always been upright and honorable. He had never known himself to be a scoundrel. His subordinates writing a BL fanfiction starring him and Thanatos was, at worst, a failure of leadership on his part. But reading the document and then desecrating the little reaper in his dreams? That made him an absolute bastard.

Yanluo had been a gentleman for so long that even dreaming about such things felt like a deep disrespect toward Thanatos.

And……

Glancing down at his still restless Second King Yan, Yanluo pinched the bridge of his nose. No matter how clearly his mind understood the mistake, his body refused to follow suit.

Why had he never harbored such thoughts about the little reaper before? And why, after last night, had his dreams been nothing but erotic fantasies?

After much deliberation, Yanluo concluded that this was entirely Meng Wan’s fault.

Like Thanatos, Yanluo possessed an eidetic memory. Although he had only skimmed through that ten-thousand-word long article once, every single word was deeply imprinted in his mind. Meng Wan’s writing was vivid, and worst of all, the protagonists were them. It had been impossible not to picture it.

Meng Wan had written a smut about him and the little reaper, so naturally, that was what he dreamed about. If she had written about him with someone else, perhaps his dream wouldn’t have featured Thanatos at all.

There was only one way to test this theory.

Yanluo picked up his phone and sent a message to Meng Wan.

Yanluo: I’ll give you a task. Completing it can offset your mistakes and restore your year-end bonus.

Granny Meng: Here! What are Your Majesty’s orders?

Yanluo: Write another story like the one from last night.

Granny Meng: Your Majesty……

Meng Wan was utterly stunned.

So King Yan was that kind of man who looked stern and cold, but was actually passionate. He had punished them in the group chat with righteous fury, yet now he was privately requesting extras? Tsk, tsk, tsk. And he still dared to claim his relationship with the God of Death was pure? Who would believe that?

Just as Meng Wan was about to break into a knowing smirk, another message from Yanluo arrived.

Yanluo: Change the other protagonist to the Four Judges. Write a version for each one.

A proper control group required multiple test subjects for accurate results. As far as Yanluo was concerned, the Four Judges were nothing more than divine test tools.

Granny Meng: ???

Granny Meng: Are you saying you want fics of you and Cui Jue? And the others?

Yanluo: Yes.

Granny Meng: ……

Yanluo: Is there a problem?

Granny Meng: ……No problem. Please wait, I’ll start writing.

Meng Wan sat in stunned silence for a long moment before slowly putting on a pained expression.

She had misjudged King Yan. He wasn’t just repressed but an outright lecher. Not only had he set his sights on every single blade of grass in his own backyard, but he was also demanding a full-blown harem experience!

How could such a fickle and unfaithful King Yan ever be worthy of the pure and innocent God of Death?

Her beloved ship had officially sunk. Meng Wan was devastated. From this day forward, she would only be a career fan of King Yan and a devoted mother fan of the little God of Death. In her heart, these two gods were now completely decoupled.

But no matter how heartbroken she was, the temptation of the year-end bonus remained irresistible. With lightning-fast fingers, she got to work. Half an hour later, she sent the completed fanfiction.

Yanluo opened it and, maintaining a rigorous scientific mindset, read through it with calm detachment. He studied every single line, analyzing each sentence with absolute focus. Unlike the previous night, when he had been too flustered to properly process the fic about himself and the little reaper, this time, he remained entirely unaffected.

When he read the part where he pinned Cui Jue against the wall and kissed him, his expression remained blank.

When he and Lu Zhi exchanged heartfelt confessions, his brows furrowed slightly.

When he swore eternal love to Wei Zheng, he felt vaguely nauseous.

And when he and Zhong Kui engaged in passionate intimacy, he immediately withered.

Suppressing his suffering, Yanluo gritted his teeth and swiftly replaced all the names with Thanatos.

Now, this was much better.

The listless Second King Yan suddenly regained its vigor.

His heartbeat gradually picked up, and a familiar warmth crept up his cheeks, painting them with a soft flush.

But it wasn’t the explicit nature of the words that set his pulse racing.

It was Thanatos’ name.

Yanluo had always possessed formidable self-control. He had lived for tens of thousands of years, his heart as still as a quiet lake. If he truly felt nothing, then how could mere words throw him into such disarray?

No, it wasn’t the writing itself.

It was more like those words evoked the deepest desires in his heart.

Closing his eyes, Yanluo leaned back against the headboard, silent for a long time. Then, out of nowhere, he let out a quiet chuckle.

At least now, he could confidently say that when it came to choosing a partner, he didn’t care about looks.

After all, he didn’t even know what Thanatos looked like.

And yet he had already fallen.

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