Delicate, Yet Shamelessly Freeloading [Quick Transmigration] Chapter 43

Chapter 43: The Blind Widower in the Infinite Game (10)

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It thought they were just too loud.

 

All it wanted was to look at its little mate.

 

Even knowing this was only a heart-sound, that it wouldn’t reach the outside world.

 

When the person under the blanket turned over, it still felt nervous. Its young tentacle curled up slightly at the tip, like a shy mimosa plant.

 

He didn’t wake up.

 

Now lying flat in his sleep, the boy’s face was finally clear to see.

 

Even more beautiful than the distorted photo.

 

The summer night was hot, and the only thing pushing away the heat was the ceiling fan, squeaking as it spun. After the power went out, even though it had rained and the air cooled, it still couldn’t outweigh his habit of sleeping under the covers.

 

His forehead was damp with sweat, and his snowy-white face had flushed pink from the heat. His lips parted slightly, a rosy tip hidden between them—every breath was laced with a thick, sweet fragrance.

 

His feet, restless, had kicked off the blanket.

 

All around the room, tentacles stirred restlessly, no longer shading the moonlight spilling over the windowsill. They squirmed, inching closer to the bed.

 

The young tentacle stopped its gentle patting.

 

It was filled with curiosity.

 

The tentacle writhed for a while, inching closer to the sleeping boy’s face.

 

Droplets of sticky fluid dripped down from the iron bedframe, indistinguishable from the rain outside.

 

It hovered for a moment, then shrank smaller. Its tip cautiously brushed against the boy’s lips.

 

There was a small, delicate fruit resting on his upper lip.

 

The soft, warm touch sent a rush of sensation through its nerves, and the tentacle abruptly pulled back.

 

The little mate, perhaps feeling discomfort, instinctively licked his lips.

 

His already plump lips shimmered with a wet sheen. The moist red tip of his tongue flashed for barely a second before retreating back into his warm mouth.

 

It wanted to see more.

 

The tentacle tip, now shrunken to the size of two human fingers, slipped between the parted lips while he had yet to close them, gently prying open the teeth and sneaking inside.

 

It trembled all over.

 

Inside was damp and warm, even cozier than the nest it had been born in. The tentacle felt a deep, unprecedented peace.

 

Sensing the foreign presence, the tongue instinctively resisted, trying to push the tentacle out.

 

The soft, tender tongue rubbed against the tentacle’s surface, the friction making the boy frown in discomfort. As he drew back, the tentacle eagerly tangled with him, elated.

 

“Bo—bo—”

 

It teased the tip of the tongue and discovered something new—whenever it moved more, the inner cheeks would secrete a thin, transparent fluid.

 

So that was where the sweet taste came from.

 

Realizing this, the tiny suction cups on the tentacle began to spasm in excitement—it had entered hunting mode.

 

“Mmm…”

 

The human’s soft moan was barely louder than a kitten’s mew.

 

“Go away…” he murmured, trapped in a nightmare.

 

The tentacle suckled tightly on the helpless red tongue. Even when Shui Que turned his head, he couldn’t shake it off. Saliva overflowed from between his swollen lips, dripping down to soak his chin.

 

The other tentacles couldn’t hold back any longer. They climbed up to the bed, nestling under his chin and at his neck, cradling the pooling liquid like vessels.

 

There were some chaotic voices in the air—someone seemed to be cursing it.

 

Another person spoke sternly, trying to reason with it, “Wubao, you mustn’t do that.”

 

Wubao was the name humans had given it.

 

It was born in the deep sea, without name or identity, drifting aimlessly through the ocean.

 

They told it not to behave that way, but it could see their memories.

 

Those two human males—clearly, they had done the same things.

 

They had said to its little mate, “Baby, open your mouth.”

 

And once they’d coaxed the person into parting their lips, they began licking fervently—from the small lip bead, the pale red tongue, to the inner cheeks—holding the little one’s face as they licked all the way to the base of the tongue.

 

They kissed the person so pitifully.

 

The corners of their eyes turned red, tears mingled with the trails of saliva dripping down to their chin. Their waist trembled violently, toes curled just like this, with no support, feet arched into a tight bow.

 

“Bo—bo—”

 

Its tentacle withdrew, silvery strands still clinging under the moonlight, stained along the coarse, dark red tip.

 

The iron-frame bed had been used for years. The painted green coating would flake off in patches with just a casual wipe, and the wooden planks underneath were similarly worn—subtle cracks had already formed on the undersides.

 

Any movement—turning over, sitting up, getting in or out—would make the bed creak and groan.

 

Yuan Yu grabbed the railing and climbed down from the top bunk. “Shui Que?”

 

He had woken up from the heat in the middle of the night and heard some movement. Someone’s breathing had been laced with suppressed sobs, thin and frail.

 

He got down to check.

 

The windows were still tightly shut—likely the electricity had been restored. The ceiling fan whirred above. The lights were controlled by the dorm supervisor and had been switched off, so the room remained dark.

 

Everything appeared perfectly normal, just like before bedtime.

 

Yuan Yu frowned. He lifted the corner of the blanket, revealing the face that had been covered.

 

Shui Que opened his eyes, still half-asleep. His eyelashes were damp and clumped together. He couldn’t see anything in the darkness and was about to speak when the numb and even slightly painful sensation in his mouth startled him.

 

Yuan Yu helped him sit up and asked, “What’s wrong? Did you have a nightmare?”

 

“I heard you crying.”

 

The pillow had been soaked with tears, the cover wrinkled. The darker areas showed where the wetness had spread into a blotch.

 

So much water.

 

Yuan Yu noticed something and his brows tightened into a deep crease.

 

Shui Que clutched the corner of his shirt. The fingers of his other hand touched his lips. “I dreamed… something was biting my mouth.”

 

He was hesitant to say more. His lips and tongue now felt like they had been kissed for a long, long time.

 

Yuan Yu reached toward the pillow and pulled out a water-drenched photo from the edge.

 

He had seen this photo before—his older brother always brought it when going out to sea, keeping it close in the chest pocket, near his heart.

 

Yuan Yu cupped Shui Que’s face and guided him, “Open your mouth, ah—”

 

“Let me see,” he said.

 

The lips were so swollen they looked like they might burst, and inside, the tongue was red and raw.

 

Yuan Yu let go, then held up the photo. “Did you bring this with you?”

 

Since Shui Que couldn’t see, he described it: “It’s a color photo, three inches, taken at the photography studio on Wulong Street in the capital. You and my brother are in it.”

 

Shui Que had no idea this photo existed. The system in the infinite game hadn’t notified him either.

 

The blank confusion on his face didn’t escape Yuan Yu’s notice.

 

Closing his eyes, Yuan Yu removed the triangular red talisman hanging around his neck. He slipped the red cord over Shui Que’s neck, tucking it into his collar.

 

“There’s something unclean around you,” he said. “In a few days, I’ll ask a priest if they can exorcise it for you.”

 

A gust of wind struck the window, making Shui Que shiver in the middle of the night.

 

Guan Yizhou walked over squinting, one hand holding his dazed head. “What are you two doing?”

 

Under the moonlight, he caught sight of Shui Que’s mouth. Guan Yizhou’s eyes instantly sharpened, and he glanced at Yuan Yu with suspicion.

 

*

 

The next day, the rain stopped.

 

The sky was a spotless blue, as if it had been freshly washed.

 

“Hello…”

 

Shui Que stood anxiously at the lighthouse door, gripping his blind cane tightly. He shifted slightly to one side, revealing the group of people behind him.

 

“These are my friends from the capital. They’re here on a study trip and would like to visit the island’s most famous lighthouse. Is that alright?”

 

The storm last night had added to the lighthouse keeper’s workload. He hadn’t slept at all. Dark circles rimmed his eyes, and a stubble of short, dark hair circled his jaw.

 

He glanced over the group, probably recognizing them from a past visit—though they had been turned away that time.

 

“Come in,” he said flatly.

 

Xie Huahuang was second behind Shui Que and entered right after him. “Sorry to trouble you.”

 

A cormorant was perched on the wooden beam in the hallway, head drooped as it dozed.

 

The first floor was filled with fuel injectors, oil lamps, and barrels. The diesel generator never seemed to stop vibrating—you could feel it in every corner of the rooms.

 

The lighthouse keeper still had to clean the bull’s-eye lens in the lamp room during the day, repair the evaporator, and fix the storm damage. He didn’t have the time to follow them around.

 

“Don’t touch any equipment on the first floor,” he told the visitors. “You can go anywhere else as you like.”

 

Last time, Shui Que had only reached the second-floor living quarters. He hadn’t seen the other levels. After giving a brief instruction, the lighthouse keeper ignored them and headed upstairs.

 

Shui Que hesitated. The staircase had no railing, so he had to stick close to the wall to avoid missing a step.

 

Atticus hadn’t said a word on the way here, staying silent and occasionally glancing at Shui Que from the corner of his eye.

 

Still pale and delicate, this boy looked quite thin—yet he had hit with surprising force.

 

That day, Atticus had said some pretty awful things. Li Jianshan had turned back and scolded him thoroughly. He had reflected on his own, sure, but didn’t like others telling him off. He had been about to snap back at Li Jianshan when Shui Que’s damp face flashed in his mind—his eyes just barely red, cheeks wet.

 

In that moment, all his jealousy and anger scattered like a crumbling battlefield.

 

He saw Shui Que falter in front of the stairs, not moving. So he awkwardly stepped up and offered, “Um, want me to carry you?”

 

Shui Que didn’t answer. He recognized Atticus’s voice, just surprised—when had he become so eager to help?

 

He didn’t react at once.

 

Atticus grew impatient. He tugged at Shui Que’s sleeve and crouched down, one knee bent. “Hurry up. I’ll only wait five seconds.”

 

[Plot Progress: Bully the male lead in front of everyone. Order him to carry you. (Progress upon completion: 53% → 58%)]

 

Shui Que didn’t want Atticus to carry him. Who knew if he was faking kindness just to throw him down the stairs?

 

He had planned to walk himself.

 

But now a mission prompt appeared.

 

“No.” He stepped back, away from Atticus, pursing his lips and raising his voice. “Chu Jingting—come here! Can’t you see how long these stairs are?”

 

Chu Jingting, who had been trailing behind and watching their every move coldly, was suddenly jolted back to the memory of the first instance.

 

Shui Que used to call him like this—high and mighty, as if he was a dog at his feet, to be summoned or dismissed at will.

 

He stepped forward silently and asked in a flat voice, “The stairs are long—can’t you walk them with your feet?”

 

Shui Que remembered he was no longer the same as in the first instance. He had no leverage over Chu Jingting now and instinctively shrank his neck a little, his tone growing weaker. “There’s no railing… Are you trying to get me killed?”

 

Chu Jingting’s mouth twitched slightly, then he glanced coldly at Atticus. “Don’t block the stairs.”

 

Atticus gave him a glare filled with silent rage but moved aside anyway.

 

Reluctantly, Chu Jingting crouched down in front of Shui Que.

 

“Get on.”

 

[LMAO, stupid golden retriever. That’s what you get for being mean to my baby.]

 

[Even bootlickers can’t get close—Shui Shui isn’t lacking dogs.]


Shui Que slumped over his back, extending his white cane forward. “Hold this properly for me. If you drop it, you’ll be sorry.”

 

What are you going to do to make me sorry? Xie Qian isn’t even here.


Chu Jingting wanted to retort, but he didn’t want to mention that dead man.

 

So, he obediently held the white cane for him.

 

Shui Que let out a sigh of relief, lying on Chu Jingting’s back, his heart still pounding.

 

Earlier, he had discussed things with System 77. They didn’t understand why the male lead, instead of playing the lone wolf like in the original plot, had chosen to join their team in this instance.

 

It left Shui Que unsure how to act around him, terrified that the next moment he’d be struck down by the protagonist.

 

According to System 77’s storyline plug-in calculations, he should continue bullying the male lead as before.

 

After all, his character’s entire purpose was to humiliate the protagonist, hold the team back, then be abandoned and left behind by the boss.

 

Even with the male lead in their group, it didn’t change much. The plug-in program even suggested he ramp up the bullying to ensure he’d be thrown away and die as intended.

 

Shui Que’s real concern, though, was that if he kept up this behavior, the protagonist might just kill him off early.

 

He had a bad feeling he’d die a horrible death…

 

The others followed behind them up the stairs.

 

From the second floor all the way up, they spent time inspecting each level. Apart from the second floor, which was the main living quarters, and the third, used as the duty room, the other levels were either abandoned and webbed in the corners or used for storage.

 

Top floor.

 

Xie Huahuang asked the lighthouse keeper, who was polishing a lens, “How far does this light reach?”

 

“24 nautical miles,” the keeper answered without pausing his hands. “Three white flashes every 15 seconds.”

 

Xie Huahuang pretended they really were here for educational purposes, jotting notes into his leather notebook.

 

He adjusted his glasses. “There’s a ship passage logbook downstairs in the duty room. Does every ship have to be registered before going out to sea?”

 

The lighthouse keeper straightened and glanced at him as if he’d asked a particularly stupid question.

 

“Only the large ships from the cooperative are registered,” he replied. “Trawler-schooners, cargo ships—that kind.”

 

Shui Que lay quietly on Chu Jingting’s back. He couldn’t see, didn’t have much of a sense of involvement, so all he could do was wait until everyone finished their tour.

 

Because the lighthouse keeper still had a lot of work, they didn’t linger. On their way out, an osprey flapped its wings, seemingly wanting to follow Shui Que.

 

“Come back,” the lighthouse keeper said.

 

The osprey reluctantly returned to the lighthouse, and the door shut behind it.

 

Li Jianshan asked, “Did you find anything? The quest does mention the lighthouse, so this must be one of the key landmarks.”

 

Xie Huahuang brought up the ship passage log he’d noticed earlier.

 

“There’s an old registry book tucked under the desk. It’s from ten years ago. One ship in it, the Thousand Smoke, only has a departure date recorded—no return date.”

 

“The island’s called Thousand Smoke Island, the ship is the Thousand Smoke, and the instance name is Thousand Smoke…” Li Jianshan followed his train of thought. “That’s practically a flashing clue. We should definitely investigate that further.”

 

Atticus noticed that even though they’d left the lighthouse, Chu Jingting still hadn’t put Shui Que down.

 

Annoyed, he raked a hand through his hair. “Also, I asked around earlier—there’s a festival in a week. There’ll be lots of events on the island. They said the elder priest leads activities during the day, and everyone goes to the shrine for worship at night. During the day, the shrine’s pretty empty. We could sneak in and check it out then.”

 

That should help complete the first stage of the main quest.

 

＊

 

The festival day arrived with sunny weather.

 

The lion dance opened the event by the seaside.

 

Although Guan Yizhou had been nagging for three days, telling him he absolutely had to go—

 

Shui Que figured there was no point. He couldn’t see anything anyway, so he didn’t even bother telling Guan Yizhou he wasn’t going.

 

As agreed, he met up with the others at the guesthouse, and they headed to the shrine together.

 

Sure enough, most of the crowd was gathered by the sea, with few people in the western hills.

 

With no elder priest around to stop them, it was easy to enter the shrine courtyard.

 

The peach blossoms that had bloomed just recently had all withered after the early summer rain. The stone tiles paved across the courtyard were slick, and though the front yard wasn’t very large, once you turned off the narrow path, it opened up into a spacious area.

 

At the center stood the main hall for worship, which, under normal circumstances, should have housed a divine idol.

 

They had Shui Que stand guard at the entrance.

 

They were already inside the main hall when Atticus suddenly turned back.

 

He looked uncomfortable, his eyes fixed on the ground. “I still haven’t apologized for what happened before.”

 

Shui Que: “Hm?”

 

Ever since he slapped him last time, he had been deliberately avoiding Atticus. After the argument, things felt awkward between them—and besides, Atticus had always seemed to dislike him anyway.

 

Atticus had gone out of his way to wait for a moment when it was just the two of them, and said, “I admit I said some pretty awful things before. It was my fault for making you cry.”

 

The way he apologized was like a little schoolboy pulling a girl’s braid and making her cry.

 

Shui Que pressed his lips together and said slowly, “I’m petty.”

 

“Just because you apologized doesn’t mean I have to forgive you.”

 

His eyes were half-lidded, clearly unwilling to keep talking. “Go on inside.”

 

【Oh no, my poor baby】

 

【Petty petty petty, let me kiss you kiss you kiss you kiss you kiss you】

 

【What do you mean petty? Baby, you’re like a little Buddha—just talking to them is already giving them too much credit】

 

Everyone else had gone inside. Shui Que was left standing outside alone as the lookout. He’d been standing for a while and was starting to feel tired. At first, he was going to squat down, but when he felt a stone stool nearby, he just sat down to rest for a bit.

 

Suddenly, a small stone was kicked in from outside.

 

A few noisy voices followed.

 

“It’s not even evening yet—who would come to the shrine to worship now…?”

 

“Every year the old priest never made anyone come back to guard the shrine. Why do we have to be the ones on patrol?”

 

“This ‘Youth Association’ is just free labor. We might not even make it in time for the soccer match later.”

 

A group of boys grumbled as they approached from the path outside the shrine.

 

【Plot Progress: Maintain the role of the liability, reveal teammates’ location. (Progress after completion: 58% → 65%)】

 

Shui Que blinked and simply accepted his fate.

 

Within seconds, his vision was blocked by a wall of shadows.

 

“You’re… Shui Que?” The boy in the lead, Ah Chun, hesitantly asked, ears suddenly turning red.

 

The others had only heard about Shui Que but never seen him in person. They were all stunned for a moment.

 

What the heck… Ah Chun wasn’t exaggerating at all.

 

Was there really someone with such fair skin, rosy lips, and a face like a celestial being?

 

Shui Que grew a little nervous. “Mm, you know me?”

 

“I’m Yuan Yu’s classmate,” Ah Chun introduced himself, scratching his head awkwardly. “Outsiders aren’t allowed in the shrine. Why are you here… Didn’t you want to watch the lion dance?”

 

Shui Que was surrounded by tall, burly high school boys, like some rare animal on display.

 

From the outside, all you could see were their dark skin and broad backs—not a trace of that snow-white figure inside.

 

The boys crowded around him, and Shui Que, growing more anxious, quickly said, “I didn’t sneak into the shrine, and I’m not keeping watch for anyone else.”

 

He had made himself very clear.

 

But the boys acted like they hadn’t understood a word. “Oh, oh.”

 

“Then we’ll just ask you a few questions.”

 

One of them, with a buzz cut, squatted down to look Shui Que in the eyes. “What perfume are you wearing?”

 

Why did this boy smell so nice?

 

His lips were so red too—was he wearing lip balm?

 

Shui Que blinked. “Huh?”

 

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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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