Lakeside Ghost Story 6

Fang Hao lay on the floor, convulsing nonstop. Blood choked his throat as he tried to scream soundlessly in pain, and his whole body flopped like a fish being fried alive in scorching oil, making its final death throes.

But Zhuo Yu did not spare him another glance. Instead, he turned his gaze to the front door, toward the towering crocodile-headed figure, built like a small mountain.

He moved.

The monster walked slowly to Zhuo Yu's side with his ax in hand. His nearly inhuman size exerted an overwhelming pressure. Zhuo Yu could already smell the faint reek of decay coming from the crocodile head, mingled with the distinctive scent of tanned leather.

Zhuo Yu wanted to stand, but his legs would not obey him at all.

The boss crouched down and simply stayed beside Zhuo Yu in silence, like a mute marble statue. Then he extended his powerful right hand and gripped Zhuo Yu's neck tight.

Zhuo Yu did not make any rash move. He knew the boss was watching him. Killing a disabled man who could not move would take no more than the twitch of a finger. His life lay in Death's hand, an exhilaration he had never experienced before, and the shiver of walking the edge of danger was almost intoxicating.

Like an antelope caught by the throat in a lion's jaws, like a doe trapped in the coils of a giant python, the course of his fate was firmly in his predator's control.

Zhuo Yu did not dodge. Nor did he exhaust himself, like Fang Hao, merely to put distance between himself and the monster. He was gambling: gambling that his identity had something to do with the boss, that he would not be killed.

Excitement ignited in his blood. Taking advantage of this rare quiet, Zhuo Yu boldly began studying the other man in return.

He was certain Zhou Wu and the others had taken this boss for a monster with a crocodile's head and a human body. But from this close, he could see that the enormous crocodile head was merely the boss's mask.

The mask was old. Its scales had dried out, and parts of the material along the jaw had worn away, exposing a man's strongly defined chin. The blue eyes belonged to a human as well. They were so calm that they contained none of a normal person's emotions; stare into them too long, and a chill would creep up your spine, as if a whirlpool were pulling you into a bottomless, lightless lake.

The work clothes he wore did not fit him at all, stretched tightly over his muscular body. They were speckled with old bloodstains, perhaps taken from some victim.

The man's low breathing through the mask grew more distinct in the still air. Zhuo Yu followed the line of his prominent Adam's apple downward to his subtly rising, heat-radiating chest, and heard the boss's deep heartbeat pounding like a drum.

The raw hormones crashing over him made Zhuo Yu swallow unconsciously.

When a living creature neared death, instinct became a primal urge. Even a moth flying into flame would expose its organs as fully as possible before perishing, releasing enticing pheromones to attract a mate in life's final instant.

So Zhuo Yu took the initiative and broke the silence.

"Has anyone ever told you you're ridiculously sexy?"

The boss's hand froze.

"Baby, your body is better than any stripper in Magic Mike. Even if you weren't a killer, you'd still have everyone screaming for you." Zhuo Yu smiled, revealing the tiger tooth he usually kept hidden. "I'm ready to scream for you right now."

The crocodile-headed monster did not move, but his pupils contracted, then dilated, as though he could not understand what he was seeing.

Zhuo Yu directly covered the boss's hand with his own. The bold move made the boss stiffen again. As if shocked, he released his grip and stared blankly at Zhuo Yu.

It was an utterly bizarre sight. A terrifying character who ought to be splitting every living person in two with his ax, leaving the floor awash with organs, now seemed to have had his stop button pressed. Beneath his enormous body reclined a young, beautiful, frail man.

The young man's eyes were damp, apparently full of every emotion except fear.

The man's silence was soon interrupted by activity upstairs. The sound of furniture shifting was unmistakable. As if some nerve in him had been tripped, he picked up his ax and headed upstairs for a second round of slaughter.

The boss left. The hall suddenly felt far more spacious.

He had won his bet.

Only then did Zhuo Yu realize that he seemed to have been holding his breath for a long time.

But it was not because he was afraid, or because the oppressive presence had frozen him in place. It was because... he had been struck speechless by sheer beauty.

He had not lied to the boss.

Zhuo Yu had written countless horror characters. Though their personalities varied, they all shared something: the hormones of predators. It had made many readers question his sexuality.

They were not wrong. Zhuo Yu was indeed attracted to that sort of man, and the crocodile-headed man just now was the embodiment of his type. When he watched Friday the 13th or Halloween, it was not the gore or exhilarating slaughter that he appreciated, but the killers themselves.

Violence. An imposing physique. No morality. In an instant, they could drag a person back to an age before civilization began, evoking nothing but sex, hunting, and emotionless domination and possession.

Coming back to himself, Zhuo Yu pulled the dinner fork from the back of Fang Hao's hand. Bracing it against the floor for leverage, he barely managed to prop up his upper body.

He looked at the glass shards scattered across the floor. They reflected countless faces with flushed cheeks and damp eyes, clearly the look of someone far too excited.

Zhuo Yu calmed his own pounding heart, then patted his "teammate" on the cheek.

Fang Hao was barely breathing, but he was still conscious. As the adrenaline wore off, overwhelming pain swept through his body, yet he no longer had the strength even to writhe.

Zhuo Yu clicked his tongue to draw Fang Hao's attention. Fang Hao's pupils were unfocused as he looked blankly at the newcomer's face.

Why wasn't he dead? Why was he still alive?!

At death's door, Fang Hao's warped malice grew even harder to restrain. Why was he the one dying, instead of that cripple? The hatred had almost become the sole thing keeping him going.

"I remember your role. One of its traits is tenacious vitality. Looking at you now, traits aren't necessarily a good thing." Zhuo Yu toyed with the bloodstained silver fork, a shadow settling over his youthful face. "It'd be better to die quickly. Less suffering that way."

"Ghk... hhk..."

Fang Hao struggled to focus his gaze. He wanted to roar, but no sound came out. Something was wrong. Zhuo Yu was too wrong. The corners of his lips were lifted as though he were smiling, but his eyes were terrifyingly vicious, as if Fang Hao were already dead in his mind.

Was this really that meek, long-suffering disabled newcomer?

"Shh. I know what you want to say." Zhuo Yu lay against the student's chest and murmured softly, "Look into my eyes."

"Hhk..."

Following Zhuo Yu's gaze, Fang Hao felt his consciousness gradually falling apart. The pain eased considerably, and he even drifted into a floaty haze, as though he had returned to his mother's womb, warm and comfortable.

Zhuo Yu's eyes were unfathomably deep. In that instant, Fang Hao felt as though someone far above him were looking down at him, and an endless sense of safety came over him. Like a little boat that had drifted the sea for tens of thousands of years, he had finally returned to harbor.

He watched Zhuo Yu slice the flame tattoo off his wrist with a shard of glass, but he felt no pain, only a numb sensation. There was no resistance in his heart, as if he had been disconnected from his own awareness.

Yet Fang Hao's hand trembled on instinct.

Because once the illusion faded, Zhuo Yu looked more like a vicious ghost wearing a gorgeous human skin. His burning gaze fixed on the chunk of flesh that had fallen away. Strands of blood were mixed with glossy yellow fat, making Fang Hao's stomach churn. He had lost the capacity for fear, but his body's reactions did not lie.

He vomited uncontrollably, choking until his eyes rolled back.

Zhuo Yu shifted away from him in disgust, then picked up the piece of flesh and examined it. The flame on it had vanished. Looking again, he saw it had reappeared on Fang Hao's forearm.

He let out a breath of relief.

Sure enough, the Flame System would not disappear just because the wrist was gone. It was bound to the actor's soul; the tattoo was only a physical manifestation. He had wanted to study it from the very beginning, and only now had he found the chance.

As for Fang Hao's illusion, Zhuo Yu could only thank his own talent.

Once the experiment was over, Zhuo Yu ignored Fang Hao. Dragging his legs, he slowly made his way toward the sofa. Thinking of that boss, he suddenly felt he had come out ahead. Entering this game had been more than worth it, even if it could not heal his legs.

Sounds of fighting came from upstairs. With the crash of breaking glass and things landing on the grass, Zhuo Yu concluded that those "teammates" had escaped.

Unless they had been deliberately let go, those people would not live long. Did the boss enjoy playing hunting games?

Through the window, Zhuo Yu saw Zhou Wu and the others fleeing in panic. It seemed they had abandoned him completely.

That was human nature. Zhuo Yu did not expect them to help a teammate, and he understood that perfectly well. So when it came to stabbing them in the back, he felt no burden at all.

He just did not know what the boss's attitude toward him really was. Given his traitorous second-villain setup, his ending might not be good either. He might be killed by the boss after he had been used, cut down by a righteous protagonist, or punished for bringing it on himself.

But judging by Zhou Wu and the others' character setups, they were no upright, virtuous heroes either. The most likely ending for this movie was a total wipeout.

Taking secret delight in a hidden identity was the real way to court death.

Right now, he could rely on no one. Only his own strength could get him out alive.

On the other side of the screen, the audience watching the film erupted again.

[Holy shit... this newbie... what is he doing? Did he just flirt with the boss?]

[Intense!]

[The point is, he smiled while he nailed his teammate to the floor. With just a fork...]

[Why didn't the boss kill him?]

[I get it. This kid's rotten to the core. He must have lied and deliberately withheld his role information to gain the other players' trust, then kill them!]

[You're overthinking it. There hasn't been a villain role available to play in the Studios from beginning to end. I think Zhuo Yu is simply a psychopath.]

[Seconded. I've read his books. They're really... how do I put it? Twisted.]

[Is it still in time to change my bet to Zhuo Yu?]

[What's the use of being bad? He's still a cripple. He's only hanging on by a thread right now! I'm firmly backing Zhou Wu!]

[Exactly. He was just lucky. He even dared to toy with the boss. If he doesn't die, who will? Once the boss finishes the others, it'll be his turn. He can't run anyway.]

At the center of the discussion, Zhuo Yu was not anxious in the slightest. Looking at the dim kerosene lamp, the image of the crocodile-headed monster still lingered in his mind.

The way one hand could crush a person to death. The way one kick could send two sofas flying. The way he could look down at his prey with complete confidence... And those beautiful blue eyes, that excessively magnificent body...

Oh no. It seemed he had fallen in love at first sight with a horror boss.