Chapter 15: Wrong Generation, Call Me Brother.

Gulp.

Shen Zhi lowered his gaze and watched Shen Jichuan’s Adam’s apple bob up and down.

He also observed him forcing composure: So it really is a Demon’s scheme. They went through great lengths to find you and have you seduce me—what do they want?

Shen Zhi replied, They didn’t find me. I found them, and then I offered myself to you.

The Demon emerged from the mirror, his fingers slowly climbing up Charlemagne’s wrist before gradually sliding down, slotting his own fingers between the monarch’s.

The invasive sensation and friction of another hand forcibly inserting itself between his fingers were unnervingly vivid. Shen Jichuan felt his entire arm go numb, along with half his brain.

Aren’t you afraid I’ll kill you again? Shen Jichuan struggled to maintain control, refusing to break character. He coldly withdrew his hand, forced himself to retreat another step, and glared icily into the Demon’s eyes.

I possess no offensive power nor the ability to harm others. Desire can never be fully eradicated… As long as you live, I will always exist. Great King, I have a proposal.

Speak.

Imprison me.Though clearly the vulnerable party, the Demon pressed closely against the mighty monarch who could slay him at any moment, his tone teasing and seductive.

Chain me. You can vent everything upon your own desire. The wise ruler who unifies the continent by day occasionally indulging with another version of himself at night—that’s not excessive, is it?

Shen Jichuan again felt breathless, his mind uncontrollably wandering toward the scenario Shen Zhi described. He was practically blushing crimson.

Shut your mouth. Seduction is a Demon’s talent—I won’t fall for it. He clenched his fist, pretending to grip a dagger, and pressed it against Shen Zhi’s chest.

Return to the mirror. Don’t force me to actually strike, even if you are part of me. What if you can’t be eradicated? I’ll kill you every time you manifest.

Fine.

The Demon verbally acquiesced but smiled as he advanced again. Look into my eyes, Great King. Do you truly have the heart to kill me?

Shen Jichuan forced himself to lift his head. When he met those hazy eyes behind the red veil, he flinched as if electrocuted, wanting to retreat a large step backward, but his back already pressed against the cold wall—

He wanted to flee in panic, but there was nowhere left to retreat.

Shen Jichuan could only turn his face away, resisting the urge to rub his ears, his heart pounding: Brother Shen, I don’t know how to act out the next part.

These suit pants were truly form-fitting.

Shen Zhi: It’s fine. We’ll just repeat what we just did a few more times.

Otherwise, wouldn’t changing into these clothes have been for nothing?

Shen Jichuan had no choice but to act it out with him three or four more times, but even rehearsed scenes felt like torture when repeated.

Only when fine sweat beads began forming on his forehead did Shen Zhi mercifully and cheerfully let him off.

It wasn’t entirely a deception—Shen Zhi had indeed gained considerable Inspiration now.

Meanwhile, Shen Jichuan rushed to the bathroom, splashing his face fiercely with cold water before staring at his reflection for a long time.

The face in the mirror was flushed, short hair slicked back, bearing none of Charlemagne’s decisive ruthlessness from the story—instead, he clearly resembled a lust-driven mortal with weak resolve.

After dousing his face with cold water, he gradually calmed down, his breathing steadying.

He wasn’t a fool, nor was he truly as dull as wood or stone.

Shen Jichuan leaned his hands on the sink, wondering: Did Mr. Shen have feelings for him? Were all those earlier actions intentional?

No, no, no.

How could he think that way?

Just because his own thoughts were impure didn’t mean he should project that onto others.

Yet even as he told himself this, the doubt had already taken root and couldn’t be easily dismissed.

Shen Jichuan stared at the mirror, where the reflection suddenly transformed into Shen Zhi’s Demon costume. He cursed himself for being possessed by Charlemagne’s spirit. After calming down for a moment, he pushed open the bathroom door and stepped out.

Shen Zhi was still wearing that outfit, sitting on a small stool in the living room, painting on his drawing board.

His brush moved rapidly as he entered a flow state, experiencing an explosive surge of inspiration.

He didn’t notice Shen Jichuan tiptoeing to the sofa to sit down, nor did he remember how late it had become.

The painting was quickly taking shape beneath his brush.

In the moonlit river, Charlemagne’s world-conquering longsword pierced through the Demon’s heart, while the Demon’s sharp teeth sank deep into Charlemagne’s neck.

They were already dead, eyes wide open as they drifted along the river, their gazes filled with mutual killing intent.

Yet on the riverbank stood two dark shadows – the shadow condensed from Charlemagne was the Demon, while the shadow condensed from the Demon was Charlemagne.

They were each other’s other half, born inseparable, destined to live and die together.

Their bodies slaughtered each other under the constructed rules of right and wrong.

While their souls were locked in an embrace, kissing.

By the time Shen Jichuan stopped painting, the completion rate of the entire artwork had reached seventy percent.

Inspiration still flowed, but Shen Zhi had to reluctantly stop. His right hand couldn’t withstand such prolonged work – it had grown sore, weak, and slightly trembling.

Rubbing his neck, he set down the brush and suddenly realized dawn was approaching. Shen Jichuan had long fallen asleep on the sofa, lulled by the rustling sound of the brush.

Shen Zhi crouched beside the sofa. The lingering love and hatred of the characters from his painting made him lean down gently, wanting to kiss the person before him. But his lips hovered above the youth’s forehead, ultimately never making contact.

No rush.

Shen Zhi thought.

In the end, he merely tucked the blanket around the youth, then yawned and returned to the bedroom. Succumbing to exhaustion, he collapsed onto the bed.

First day of the Lunar New Year.

Noon.

Shen Zhi was awakened by firecracker noises.

The moment he woke up, he smelled the aroma of mutton soup. Slipping into his slippers, he followed the scent to the kitchen where Shen Jichuan, wearing an apron, was busy cooking and had just brought out a pot of boiled lamb ribs.

Steaming hot, the rib segments still carried tender meat that would be delicious to gnaw on.

Awake? Go wash up, we’re eating soon!

Shen Zhi went to the bathroom to squeeze toothpaste onto his brush, then came out holding his cup to brush his teeth. While brushing, he mumbled indistinctly: Made so much food… what time did you get up?

Six or seven?

Oh.

So Shen Jichuan had woken up shortly after he went to sleep.

Even after several late nights together, Shen Jichuan’s sleep schedule hadn’t been disrupted by him – quite remarkable.

Shen Zhi: Oh, that…

Hey, Brother Shen, hurry up and brush your teeth. Why do you have to wander around while brushing? Shen Jichuan pushed him by the shoulders toward the bathroom door. Go on, go on.

He was wearing the new clothes Shen Zhi had bought him, looking more spirited and vibrant than usual, radiating the energetic atmosphere of the New Year.

Moreover, he no longer seemed restrained here, interacting with Shen Zhi quite naturally.

Shen Zhi held onto the doorframe and glanced back, muttering: …Kids these days, so impatient.

After finishing his washing up, the meal was fully laid out on the table.

Shen Zhi hadn’t managed to grab any chores to do. Every time Shen Jichuan remembered the scars on his wrists, he’d feel a pang of distress, at most only letting him wash dishes, never allowing him to carry pots, bowls, or heavy objects.

Smells delicious, Shen Zhi drank his light mutton soup without lamb oil, feeling warmth spread through his stomach, and smiled, How did you sleep last night? Didn’t dream of Charlemagne, did you?

Shen Jichuan: No, slept straight through till morning.

He glanced toward the living room.

The mostly completed painting was clear enough now to easily make out Charlemagne and the demon kissing in the image.

He lowered his head and took a bite of meat: Brother Shen, you’ve been staying here so long, won’t your girlfriend mind?

Shen Zhi: I don’t have a girlfriend.

Shen Jichuan: What about a boyfriend?

Shen Zhi lifted his eyes, meeting the youth’s probing gaze directly.

Shen Zhi smiled slightly and shrugged: None either. I’m unmarried, never been in a relationship. I’m a bit surprised you’d ask that kind of question. Most people stop after asking about a girlfriend.

Just curious.

Brother Chuan—!

Brother Chuan!! Are you there?!

Familiar voices came from downstairs. Shen Jichuan paused: Huh? It’s Ji Su.

He looked at Shen Zhi.

Shen Zhi: Go check it out.

Shen Jichuan took off his disposable gloves, wiped his hands, and went downstairs. The expression on Shen Zhi’s face faded, the delicious mutton soup losing its flavor in his mouth.

Ji Su, his friend from youth.

Sincere and righteous, daring to act and take responsibility, he’d vowed since childhood to become a mage in games, but ended up becoming a lawyer. Fortunately, mage and lawyer weren’t too different—both dealt with demons and monsters.

He was the friend Shen Zhi had kept in contact with even after growing up.

During the worst period of his auditory and visual hallucinations, it was summer break of his sophomore year. Ji Su was a junior then, interning in Northeast China.

Back then, he studied frantically, trying to fill every empty moment, with no intention of making any friends.

Ji Su was the only friend who knew everything he’d been through. During an episode, he’d huddled inside his home wardrobe, silently watching his phone screen light up and go dark as Ji Su’s calls grew increasingly urgent.

In the end, he never answered.

He didn’t know if any of it was real.

He curled up in the wardrobe for a long time, the passage of time becoming blurred. So when Ji Su finally dragged him out of the wardrobe and onto the floor, he shielded his eyes from the outside light, his entire being dazed.

He heard Ji Su cursing at him: Are you even fucking human anymore? Look at yourself! What difference is there between you and a ghost? Good thing I flew overnight from fucking Northeast China, or you’d have rotted dead here without the neighbors even knowing!

Shen Zhi… Shen Zhi I’m begging you, go to the hospital, okay? Taking medication isn’t surrendering to those hallucinations, seeing a psychologist isn’t surrendering either. You’re sick, this isn’t your fault.

He lay curled on the cold floor then, the mirrors on the floor, the walls, and the ceiling all reflecting his image without exception.

Sickly, pale, like a withered, decaying flower.

Ji Su pulled him up from the floor, gripping his shoulders with both hands, Look at me, Shen Zhi, look at me. Don’t let scumbags destroy you, okay?

He still showed no reaction. Ji Su’s eyes were red-rimmed as he said helplessly: Shen Zhi, give me some response. I’m not a hallucination…

Okay.

He could feel the pain in both shoulders, and he knew Ji Su wasn’t a hallucination.

Looking past Ji Su’s shoulder, he gazed at the mirror on the wall behind him.

He smiled at his reflection.

Alright, I’ll see a doctor. I’ll take the medicine.

In this room plastered with mirrors, countless reflections of him smiled back, yet none of them retained the spirited confidence he possessed before turning eighteen.

Downstairs.

Ji Su: Sorry about last time, Brother Chuan. I didn’t know you hadn’t told your family about the car accident.

Shen Jichuan: It’s fine. I should be thanking you for saving Chengzong. It’s the first day of the Lunar New Year—why aren’t you celebrating at home and instead coming to find me here?

It’s your brother. He didn’t know where you work, so he asked me to find you. He wanted to know if you’d come home for dinner tonight since it’s New Year’s Day.

He didn’t come with you?

I didn’t let him. You told me before that your boss doesn’t like being disturbed. If I brought your brother along and accidentally offended him, wouldn’t that risk you losing your job? Ji Su explained.

Are you going back?

Shen Jichuan hesitated: I…

Going home for the New Year was the right thing to do, but he wasn’t sure if Mr. Shen would grant him leave.

Of course you should go back. Shen Zhi stood in the dim shadows at the stairwell, having watched them for a while. Now, wearing a face mask, he descended calmly, his tone mild.

The two turned around. It was Ji Su’s first time seeing him, but he felt an inexplicable familiarity in the boss’s demeanor.

He stared intently at Shen Zhi for a long moment before realizing how impolite he was being. Scratching his head, he said, Hello, Uncle.

Shen Jichuan kicked him lightly: Wrong generation. Call him Brother.

Ji Su immediately bowed: Hello, Brother!

Shen Zhi: …Hello.

He turned to Shen Jichuan: Since your family sent for you, go ahead. I won’t deduct your pay. He even smiled gently, taking out twelve hundred yuan and handing it to him. This thousand is an advance from your salary. Buy something for your family for the New Year. The remaining two hundred is for Uncle Zhou’s New Year gifts.

How strange.

It felt like taking money from a husband to visit his wife’s family for the New Year.

Shen Jichuan shook off the bizarre analogy and tentatively asked, So I can really go? You really won’t deduct my pay?

Shen Zhi smiled: Mm.

The smile seemed normal, yet Shen Jichuan felt goosebumps rising on his back for no reason.

Ji Su slapped him on the back: Your boss is so kind! Giving leave without pay deduction and even advancing your salary. Aren’t you going to thank him, Brother Chuan? Why are you just staring blankly at him?

Oh, right. Thank you, Brother Shen.

Shen Jichuan quickly went back to pack his things. Carrying his backpack downstairs, he saw Shen Zhi still standing there and couldn’t help saying, Brother Shen, you just recovered from a cold a few days ago. Don’t come downstairs dressed so lightly.

Shen Zhi: I’ll go up after you leave.

Shen Jichuan: There’s lamb soup in the pot. If you can’t finish it at lunch, pour it into a container and refrigerate it—you can reheat it tonight. Oh, and I originally planned to make dumplings this afternoon. The filling is already prepared. Don’t strain your hands making them yourself; wait for me to do it tomorrow when I’m back.

Alright.

But the pot with the lamb soup is too heavy for your hands… Never mind, I’ll just ask Uncle Zhou to come up and help you.

I’m not that helpless.

And that blue water dispenser bottle needs to be replaced at the convenience store too. Seems like we’ve run out of water at home… Only when it was time to leave did Shen Jichuan realize how many things were left undone—things Mr. Shen simply couldn’t handle alone.

Though Shen Zhi’s unusual behavior from a few days ago—which resembled depressive symptoms—hadn’t recurred, it had planted a seed of concern in Shen Jichuan’s mind. He couldn’t help but pay closer attention to him unconsciously.

Really, I’m fine, Shen Zhi’s smile felt more genuine this time. I can take care of myself. But this time, don’t ignore your phone, so I won’t have to come looking for you again.

Shen Jichuan had no choice but to suppress the many thoughts swirling in his mind. Alright then, Brother Shen. Just message me if anything comes up.

Mm.

Shen Jichuan left with Ji Su.

This time, Shen Zhi didn’t linger on watching his retreating figure but turned and went upstairs instead.

To avoid a relapse of his now-stabilized condition, he preferred not to interact with the Shen family unless necessary. Currently, aside from using working overtime as an excuse, he had no other reason to forcibly make Shen Jichuan stay.

He didn’t want to force him to remain.

This time, he would make Shen Jichuan choose to return on his own.

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