Delicate, Yet Shamelessly Freeloading [Quick Transmigration] Chapter 42

Chapter 42: The Blind Widower in the Infinite Game (9)

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Before anyone could react, Chu Jingting swung his fist through the air.

 

“What the hell, Chu Jingting? Are you crazy?”


Atticus staggered back two steps to absorb the impact. Hot blood gushed from his nose. He wiped it with the back of his hand, looked down, and saw it was bright red.

 

He looked up, furious.

 

The man with jet-black hair and eyes, expression grim as a corpse three days dead, looked more upset than the one who’d been hit.

 

Chu Jingting’s fist was clenched so tightly that his knuckles turned white.

 

Veins bulged. His trembling fist betrayed the storm inside him.

 

You’ve been tamed, Chu Jingting.

 

No one had even forced you—and yet you acted like his guard dog.

 

No one gave you orders—yet you became the sword he wielded.

 

His dark eyes were sharp as ice.

 

The boy in the transparent raincoat slowly walked away into the curtain of rain.

 

Chu Jingting instinctively wanted to chase after him, but his legs felt like they were made of lead. In the end, he just stood there.

 

*

 

“Yuan Yu.”


Ah Chun knocked on the desk at the back row by the window, pulling Yuan Yu’s gaze from outside.

 

The rain had gotten unexpectedly heavy at noon—no one could’ve predicted it, especially after the fiery red sunrise that morning.

 

Yuan Yu hadn’t managed to borrow an umbrella.

 

There was only Shui Que at home, so if the rain hadn’t stopped by the end of class, Yuan Yu would have to walk home in the downpour.

 

He looked up and asked, “What is it?”

 

Ah Chun, a high school boy with dark skin and a flushed face that couldn’t be hidden, had returned from the restroom.

 

He sat in the front row, but after entering the classroom, he walked straight to Yuan Yu’s desk.

 

Clearing his throat, Ah Chun pointed awkwardly toward the classroom door. “Um… someone’s looking for you.”

 

Yuan Yu followed the direction of his finger and quickly stood up, bracing his hands on the desk.

 

The sound of the wooden chair scraping back blended with the rain as he hurried out.

 

Guan Yizhou, the class monitor, was in charge of maintaining discipline during self-study and put on a stern face, glaring.

“Quiet, it’s not dismissal yet.”

 

His tone carried a trace of jealousy he didn’t even realize himself. He looked at Ah Chun and added, “Go back to your seat. They’re not here for you.”

 

“Shui Que.” Yuan Yu approached and pulled tissues from his jacket pocket to gently wipe the rain off Shui Que’s face.

 

He had grown taller again in just a few days. To speak face to face, he had to lower his head.

 

Shui Que’s already pale face was now drained of all color, nearly withered from the wind and rain.

 

Clear rainwater drenched his cheeks.

 

Yuan Yu’s expression remained unchanged, but anger had started to bubble within him.

 

“Shui Que.”


“Did someone bully you?”

 

He had never foolishly called him “sister-in-law,” not even when Yuan Zhou had brought Shui Que back to Thousand Smoke Island and clearly introduced him as his lifelong partner.

 

He also never called him “Brother Shui Que” like Shen Xiaomei from the general store.

 

Yuan Yu had always just wanted to call him Shui Que.

 

The drenched boy blinked slowly, lashes clumped and drooping.

 

“Someone… but I hit him,” Shui Que explained, rubbing his face clumsily.

 

His movements were nothing like Yuan Yu’s gentle touch. He scrubbed at his face hastily, leaving it red.

 

Shui Que held a dripping umbrella, its tip leaving a puddle in the corridor.

 

To avoid misunderstanding, he clarified, “I wasn’t crying. The rain outside was just too heavy. This raincoat doesn’t zip all the way up, so my face got soaked.”

 

Puffing his cheeks in protest, Shui Que tugged at the zipper of his transparent raincoat.

 

“Next time, buy me a new one, okay? I want one that zips up to the top,” he told Yuan Yu.

 

Yuan Yu squeezed the damp tissue. “Alright.”

 

After a pause, Shui Que added, “Your school’s so far, and I had to cross a bridge. It was tough just bringing you an umbrella.”

 

“Can we have dry-fried sea duck again tonight? Add more green Sichuan peppercorns this time.”

 

Yuan Yu nodded. “Mm, as long as you like it.”

 

Shui Que had a fiery temper—he got mad quickly but cooled off just as fast.

 

He hadn’t cried out of anger, just felt a little wronged.

 

Why did they accuse him of not doing the quest properly, of only caring about befriending nearby high school boys?

 

Making friends was part of the mission, too.

 

And that last guy—how rude his words were.

 

Thinking back, Shui Que regretted not slapping him twice instead of once.

 

Though Chu Jingting suddenly striking that guy—
Maybe it wasn’t really for his sake. Chu Jingting probably just couldn’t stand people who disrupted the team’s harmony.

 

Shui Que asked Yuan Yu, “When do you guys finish class?”

 

The rain had gotten even heavier on the way here.

 

They’d have to wait a bit before heading home. With this kind of rain, even an umbrella wouldn’t help much.

 

“Soon. Last period is just self-study.”

 

As soon as Yuan Yu finished speaking, static crackled from the school’s broadcast speakers.


“Hello, hello, hello—”

 

The broadcast station was testing the mic.

 

“All teachers and students, please take note. This is an urgent announcement: due to the heavy rain, the upstream embankment of the ring river has collapsed. The bridge at the school gate is now flooded. We will continue to monitor the rain and possible landslides. All teachers and students are to remain in place and await further instructions.”

 

Suddenly, Yuan Yu hugged him—despite the water clinging to the transparent raincoat.

 

“Thank goodness…” his voice trembled. “Next time, don’t bring me an umbrella again.”

 

The town’s middle school sat on a higher rise at the foot of the mountains, surrounded by a river that flowed down from the peaks. In summer, heavy rains often caused the water level to rise above the bridge.

 

But it was still rare for the flooding to get bad enough to break the embankments. If Shui Que had arrived just a little later, he might’ve been swept away by the surging mountain river.

 

Yuan Yu was holding him way too tightly.

 

Shui Que could barely breathe.

 

Inside the classroom, someone’s chair toppled over. That noise seemed to trigger the chaos—students started chattering all at once, and the room turned into a mess.

 

“Brother Yizhou, are you okay?”

 

“Do you think Yuan Yu might be…?”

 

“Shh, don’t talk nonsense!”

 

“Shh—! Quiet, the teacher’s coming!”

 

An old, balding teacher came striding over, raising his voice—

“You two up front, which class are you from? Don’t you know the school forbids romantic relationships? Hugging like that in the hallway—what kind of behavior is this?!”

 

Shui Que quickly pushed Yuan Yu away.

 

Only then did the teacher realize the one being hugged was a boy. He cleared his throat and awkwardly tried to recover: “Uh… well, even if it’s two boys, that’s still not allowed!”

 

“It’s not like that,” Shui Que explained. “I’m… Yuan Yu’s guardian. I just came to bring him an umbrella, sir.”

 

The old teacher adjusted his reading glasses. “Ah, oh, I see.”

 

He stepped into the classroom to restore order: “Quiet down, everyone!”

 

The broadcast sounded again: “All faculty and students, all faculty and students, please take note: Due to the heavy rain, everyone is to stay overnight at school. Tonight’s evening study session is cancelled.”

 

Although the school only served students from the island and the number wasn’t large, it still had dorms to accommodate everyone. Most students, though, commuted—especially during fishing season. In fact, only the third-year exam prep class and those living far away who didn’t want to wake up early usually boarded.

 

Seeing Shui Que looking worried, Yuan Yu said, “You can stay in our dorm. We’ve got an extra bed. One of the guys dropped out last semester, so there are two unused beds now.”

 

But what about the other person?

 

Shui Que found out soon enough.

 

After taking a shower and returning to the dorm, still steaming from the heat, a boy was drying his hair with a towel, leaving it messily spiked and wild. When he saw Shui Que sitting on the bunk across from him, he froze.

 

“You’re staying in our room?” Guan Yizhou’s hand stopped mid-motion as he dried his hair.

 

What the hell is going on?

 

Yuan Yu brought him to the dorm?

 

Then again, there was no way for him to get back in this weather. This was probably the only place he could crash for the night.

 

Even though he knew the person in front of him couldn’t see, Guan Yizhou still buttoned up his shirt, which had been open.

 

In a male dorm, walking around shirtless was normal.

 

He glanced around. The dorm was simple—metal bunk beds lined each wall, each measuring 2 meters by 0.9 meters. There was one shared wooden cabinet. No balcony, not even a bathroom—you had to go downstairs for that. Everything was in plain view.

 

He asked Shui Que, “Where’s Yuan Yu?”

 

Shui Que was still obediently sitting on Yuan Yu’s bed, his slippers dangling off his feet, worn improperly as he sat with one foot propped up. The slippers looked like they could fall off at any moment. “He went to get food. Oh, and he said he saw your meal ticket on the bed, so he got you a portion too and told me to let you know—you don’t need to go.”

 

Yuan Yu had probably worried that letting Shui Que stay overnight without asking Guan Yizhou might upset him.

 

It wasn’t a big deal if it ruined the already nonexistent relationship in their dorm—he just didn’t want Guan Yizhou to give Shui Que a hard time.

 

Guan Yizhou had thought about that too.

 

“Pfft.” He twisted his towel and casually hung it on the upper bunk’s iron railing.

 

“Guan Yizhou…” Shui Que suddenly called him.

 

He immediately turned his head, pretending to be indifferent. “What is it?”

 

“Where do you guys shower? Water got into my raincoat on the way here. I want to take a shower now.” Shui Que asked softly, embarrassed. “But I didn’t bring any clothes, and Yuan Yu doesn’t have any extras.”

 

Yuan Yu mostly commuted from home, and at the start of the semester, he only stayed in the dorm for a few days for evening self-study, so his dorm supplies were incomplete.

 

Guan Yizhou was more like a half-boarding student. His grades were good, and he was the class monitor. His family hoped he’d get into college, so after entering senior year, they encouraged him to stay on campus and study as much as possible.

 

“There’s a bathhouse at school,” he said with a shrug, pulling a set of school uniforms from the cabinet and tossing them to Shui Que. “The pool’s smaller than the town’s, but it’s decent.”

 

The school uniform landed in a heap on Shui Que’s knees. He hesitated and asked, “Do people all shower together?”

 

Guan Yizhou replied, “Yeah, what else?”

 

They were all guys—of course they showered together.

 

Then he paused.

 

He glanced at Shui Que, whose skin was delicate and pale—fairer than any guy or girl he’d ever seen. He’d never seen someone like that before.

 

“There’s a shower room behind the bathhouse too. You could heat some water and use that,” he added.

 

But that meant drawing hot water from the bathhouse tap, hauling it over, and then showering.

 

By the time anyone went through all that trouble, others would’ve long finished bathing in the pool.

 

Guan Yizhou carried a bucket of hot water to the shower room, expressionless. Someone passing by called out to him, “Brother Yizhou, you’re having another shower? So fancy?”

 

Guan Yizhou gave him a cool glance. “Yeah. I like staying clean.”

 

There was no one in the boys’ shower room. Ten stalls lined both sides of the corridor.

 

Shui Que hugged a basin, which held the borrowed uniform and a bar of soap. The soap had come from Guan Yizhou too—he’d unwrapped a spare one for him.

 

Guan Yizhou carried the bucket into one of the stalls. “Go on in,” he said to Shui Que, who was still standing outside.

 

Shui Que hesitated, then asked, “Why don’t these stalls have doors…?”

 

He had just been inside, feeling around for a while, and discovered that while the walls were built high on either side, the front of each stall was completely open—no doors at all.

 

Guan Yizhou: “…”

 

Guan Yizhou: “You want me to be your door guard?”

 

Stand dumbly outside the shower room and tell anyone who came by that someone was using it and they couldn’t go in?

 

Shui Que thought that was actually a pretty good idea.

 

But he also felt it might be too much trouble.

 

His soft, pale face looked conflicted for a moment. Then he looked up and asked, “Can’t you?”

 

Guan Yizhou: “…”

 

A pair of pale tea-colored eyes stared in his direction.

 

Guan Yizhou sighed. “Fine, go take your shower already.”

 

He stood outside the stall like a statue.

 

Thankfully, no one walked by.

 

Inside, the sound of hot water rushing echoed loudly, and only one stall was filling with mist.

 

Guan Yizhou peeked back once. The steam was billowing out as if about to reach him, and he quickly turned his head, not daring to look again.

 

His heart suddenly pounded uncontrollably.

 

They were all guys—what was there to see?

 

What difference could there be?

 

At most, the skin was a bit fairer, the waist a bit slimmer.

 

There was a loud splat—something had dropped inside.

 

Guan Yizhou remembered he hadn’t given Shui Que a lather net when he unwrapped the soap. Holding a slippery soap bar directly like that could easily lead to it falling.

 

The steam surged to the ceiling, and his ears turned bright red from the heat.

 

The more he tried not to think, the more he recalled that day at sea, carrying Shui Que back in his arms.

 

They were all guys.

 

At most, the thighs were a bit softer, the butt a bit rounder.

 

No difference.

 

Nothing worth looking at.

 

Guan Yizhou, can you stop thinking already?!

 

He suddenly slapped his forehead hard.

 

“Guan Yizhou.” Shui Que called to him softly, puzzled by the sudden slapping sound.

 

Guan Yizhou turned around—and somehow, Shui Que had already finished showering. He was wearing the borrowed school uniform, which was a size too small but still looked oversized on him.

 

The summer shorts reached past his knees, and his smooth calves were flushed pink from the hot water.

 

When he didn’t respond, Shui Que called again, “Guan Yizhou?”

 

Guan Yizhou strode forward, took the basin of laundry from Shui Que with one hand, and covered his nose with the other as he walked ahead.

 

“Let’s go,” he said stiffly. Between his fingers, a faint trace of blood seeped out.

 

That night.

 

Yuan Yu let Shui Que sleep on his bed—the lower bunk—while he moved to the top one, saying he wouldn’t fall off.

 

Guan Yizhou sat on his bed, acting normal, deliberately ignoring the movements from the opposite bunk. With the lights still on, he focused on studying.

 

The fluorescent light flickered a few times, then went out.

 

It was probably the storm. The school’s old wiring had likely been affected, causing a blackout.

 

There was no kerosene lamp, and no flashlight.

 

It was only eight o’clock. All they could do now was sleep.

 

By the moonlight streaming in from the hallway, Guan Yizhou could see the little mound under the covers on the opposite bed. Only a soft, dark head peeked out from the blanket.

 

He liked sleeping curled up against the wall?

 

Like a kitten.

 

As soon as the thought formed, Guan Yizhou got goosebumps.

 

Damn. Since when did he start using such disgusting metaphors—comparing a guy to a kitten?

 

He yanked his blanket up and covered his head, forcing himself to sleep.

 

Normally, he wouldn’t feel sleepy until midnight. But tonight, without the lights, with only moonlight and the quiet sound of rain, a sudden, overwhelming drowsiness hit him. He quickly slipped into deep sleep.

 

Right before he lost consciousness, Guan Yizhou wasn’t sure if he was hallucinating, but he thought he heard the sound of waves crashing on a shoreline.

 

There were only three breathing sounds in the dorm. One of them was noticeably lighter than the others.

 

A massive shadow began to rise from the ground, spreading across the entire wall. It first crept through the gaps in the door and window, then climbed to the ceiling, completely blocking the moonlight from entering the room.

 

Even if a night patrol passed by and peeked through the window, all they would see was a thick, inky darkness.

 

Waves crashed onto the shore, frothy white surf rolling in. The salty smell of the sea filled the entire room.

 

Tonight, it had taken longer than ever to find him.

 

Its arms and tentacles dragged stickily across the ground.

 

It didn’t understand why there were two other humans in the room besides its mate.

 

Mate.

 

Yes, it liked this human.

 

So, he was its mate now.

 

The little mate smelled nice—small and fragile. It had to be very careful not to let its tentacles hurt him.

 

As for the other two humans in the room—it didn’t like them one bit.

 

Its smallest tentacle rested on the edge of the blanket.

 

This was a young tentacle. There were scars near the base where it had once been severed. Fresh red flesh had grown in its place. It had slept for a long time to heal those damaged limbs.

 

So long, it had forgotten everything.

 

That was fine.

 

All it needed was its mate.

 

A low, mysterious murmur echoed—

 

The youngest tentacle, using its suction cups, spat out a small three-inch photo. The corners were wrinkled, the laminate warped from water damage. The people in the picture were a little blurry, but it was a rare, full-color print.

 

You couldn’t take a photo like that on Thousand Smoke Island.

 

On the back, small writing read: Capital Wulong Street Photography Studio.

 

The photo clearly showed two people dressed as students.

 

The pretty-eyed boy had a charming upturned smile and a tiny dimple on his cheek. Beside him stood a man nearly a head taller, dressed in formal wear, with a calm and gentle air—but even so, there was still a hint of youthful awkwardness that only came from facing one’s first love.

 

Anyone who saw them would instinctively praise: What a lovely couple.

 

Then, upon seeing the boy’s clear, misty eyes, that admiration would inevitably turn into heartfelt pity.

 

It poked the photo under the pillow with the tip of a tentacle, then gently patted Shui Que through the blanket, clumsily imitating the way humans coax each other to sleep.

 

“Bo—bo—”

 

Its little mate, when asleep, was especially obedient.

 

He wouldn’t throw stones at it.

 

It liked him so much.

 

Even if he did throw stones—it would still like him.

 

But the other two voices in its mind were just too noisy, constantly arguing.

 

“I’ve told you a hundred times, you’re just an NPC. Shui Shui never dated you! All of that was fabricated by the game, auto-coded memories—do you get that? Even that photo is fake! He’d never take a portrait with you. If he did, it’d be with me. What love? That was all a dream you made up. Got it?”

 

The calm and gentle voice refused to budge. “Don’t believe it.”

 

Xie Qian was about to lose his mind.

 

“He’s my wife, not yours! You damn f* thief!”

 

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Huge shoutout to @candycorns2 on Discord for commissioning this! The chapter will be posted regularly, show your support for Ciacia at Kofi.

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