After Falling in Love with a 2D Character as a Socially Anxious Person - Chapter 12

An Jing had stayed up late the night before gathering information. The next morning, he hit the snooze button twice after his alarm went off and slept until past ten o’clock.

Sitting up with a head of messy hair, An Jing’s mind wasn’t fully clear yet when a series of sharp, whistling sounds caught his attention.

Realizing the source was coming from outside the window, An Jing turned his head: What is that noise so early in the morning?

Wearing his plush pajamas, An Jing got out of bed, rubbed his eyes, and walked to the window. With a “shwish,” he pulled open the curtains.

The sun was shining brightly outside. Stimulated by the glare, An Jing closed his eyes, struggling to adjust.

Outside the master bedroom where he slept, there was a very large balcony with a small bookshelf. When the weather was good, he enjoyed curling up there to soak in the sun and flip through books. When he was truly bored, he would move the small cactus from his study outside and use a wet wipe to clean the non-existent dust off its needles.

Living alone and rarely going out, An Jing lacked much necessary or unnecessary social interaction, so he often found strange little things to do. He never felt that life was boring.

Once the soundproof floor-to-ceiling window was opened, the noise outside became much clearer.

An Jing walked to the balcony and looked down. Yan Qili, dressed in a short-sleeved shirt and black pants, was practicing with his sword on the terrace. After seeing the scene below, An Jing, leaning on the railing, woke up instantly.

Doesn’t Yan Qili feel cold?

The late spring cold spell this year had lasted exceptionally long. Even though the “Awakening of Insects” solar term had passed, the morning temperature still hadn’t broken into the double digits.

Still in his winter pajamas, An Jing was shocked by Yan Qili’s thin clothing. After a few seconds, his attention was captured by the man’s every move.

Wow—

Unlike the slow-motion, flowery movements seen in TV dramas, Yan Qili’s skills were real, honed through countless battles and killings. The heavy sword, weighing over thirty kilograms, seemed weightless in his hands, yet it fell with the force of wind and rain, carrying the momentum of a thunderbolt.

It was amazing. So amazing that one couldn’t look away.

An Jing was dazed, his eyes seemingly glued to Yan Qili, following his every movement. He was almost beaming with excitement.

With fluid motions paired with Yan Qili’s cold and perfect features, his morning sword practice was a visual feast for anyone watching. If a video were filmed and posted online, it would get tens of thousands of shares in minutes. An Jing, who surfed the web often, could already imagine how many men and women in the comments section would be calling him “husband.”

Sword practice was a habit Yan Qili had formed over many years. Before An Jing even showed his face, he had noticed the movement upstairs. Waking up at the hour of the Snake (9–11 AM); he can sleep even more than a rabbit.

Yan Qili acted as if he didn’t see the person upstairs and continued his practice. The terrace at home was large, but it was nowhere near as spacious as the military drill grounds, and there were several pots of greenery nearby that didn’t look like they were in good condition. The limited space was a bit restrictive for Yan Qili.

An Jing’s home was only this big and didn’t even have a back garden. Yan Qili couldn’t find a more open space than this. As the sword-wind swept past, the half-dead plants shook violently, scattering fallen leaves all over the floor.

An Jing, watching in a trance, felt his heart tremble along with the Bird of Paradise plant that looked like it might go to heaven at any moment.

So cool!

Because the protruding balcony blocked his view, An Jing couldn’t see certain movements when Yan Qili shifted his position. Snapping out of it, An Jing turned around, not even having time to change his pajamas, and ran downstairs.

The martial arts novel he was preparing required detailed descriptions of many moves. His own imagination was far less direct than seeing it with his own eyes. A free live show—it would be a waste not to watch!

When he rushed into the living room, An Jing remembered something, braked hard, and smoothed his messy hair a couple of times. Fearing he might disturb Yan Qili, An Jing didn’t dare get too close after going downstairs. He gripped the edge of the wall with both hands, poking out his head and half his body to look out. Staying this far back was also to avoid being accidentally injured by Yan Qili while peeking.

After hundreds or thousands of years of human improvement and research, loose short sleeves and long pants were more suitable for movement than ancient attire, without layers of inner shirts and long robes getting in the way. It also allowed Yan Qili’s movements to be seen more clearly.

At first, An Jing watched with a mind to observe and learn, but later his focus gradually shifted elsewhere. Yan Qili had a great physique, but it wasn’t the exaggerated kind created by spending years in a gym. His muscle lines were smooth, presenting a very natural and wild beauty.

At this moment, Yan Qili reminded An Jing of the king of beasts. A fierce carnivore that often kills its enemy with a single strike. Staring for a long while at the forearm muscles Yan Qili had exposed to the air, An Jing couldn’t help but pinch his own arm, his eyes full of envy. When will I ever have a body like that?

From upstairs to downstairs, Yan Qili saw out of the corner of his eye that An Jing was like a rabbit, crouching in his spot and refusing to leave. At first, Yan Qili didn’t plan to care, until he noticed that the way An Jing looked at him was becoming more and more… hungry.

Yan Qili: “…?”

The corners of the Living Yama’s mouth slowly curled upward. If someone familiar with Yan Qili saw this expression, they would know to stay far away—he was about to cause trouble.

“Shwish—”

Yan Qili shifted his feet and flipped his wrist. A sharp sword-wind went straight toward the face of An Jing, who was peeking from the corner. His forehead hair lifted, revealing An Jing’s lively eyes.

An Jing: “!”

His tea-colored pupils suddenly shrank, and his whole body retreated uncontrollably. Startled, An Jing stumbled a few steps before clumsily steadying himself. At the same time, the sword “Unbroken,” which could cut through iron silently, swept past his eyes.

The cold light was chilling.

To say it was “past his eyes” wasn’t quite accurate, because Yan Qili was currently far away from An Jing; the tip of the sword was four or five meters away. It was just that the sword-wind under Yan Qili was too strong. An Jing had never seen such a scene and was easily frightened due to his small amount of courage.

An Jing’s back pressed against the wall. When he looked up at Yan Qili, there was still a trace of panic in his eyes that he hadn’t had time to pull back. His heart was racing. “You… you scared me.”

For a moment just then, he felt like he was about to say goodbye to this world.

Seeing An Jing’s wide, frightened eyes, the mischievous streak in his body prevented Yan Qili from feeling any guilt; instead, it made him feel amused. Yan Qili sheathed his sword, walked over, and spoke ominously:

“Do you know what happened to the last person who dared to approach me without greeting me while I was practicing my sword?”

An Jing, who was originally a bit angry, instinctively asked: “What happened to them?”

Yan Qili said a name.

“Chu Muli?” The unfamiliar name passed through An Jing’s mind, and a look of confusion appeared in his eyes. He had no impression of this name. It sounded like a nice name, but he didn’t remember it at all. Not even a supporting character, right?

An Jing’s reaction made Yan Qili’s expression turn cold. He reminded him: “The illegitimate son of the Minister of War, Chu Muli.”

When saying the name “Chu Muli,” Yan Qili stared at An Jing, stressing every word. If Yan Qili’s ominous tone earlier was faked, there were now two parts of truth in it. He didn’t expect An Jing to actually not remember Chu Muli.

Doesn’t! Remember!

The look Yan Qili gave An Jing carried a chill.

Under Yan Qili’s gaze, An Jing’s mouth slowly fell open. He remembered! He really had no impression of who Chu Muli was, but when “illegitimate son of the Minister of War” was mentioned, he remembered instantly.

The illegitimate son of the Minister of War, Yan Qili’s once-best friend. He was also the “cannon fodder” who eventually betrayed him for power!! For An Jing, cannon fodder didn’t even deserve a name during the outlining phase; he had only assigned him an identity when dividing the factions. Since he hadn’t even decided on the main character’s love interest yet, An Jing naturally didn’t know the cannon fodder’s ending.

However, seeing Yan Qili’s terrifying expression… having an intact corpse would be a blessing Chu Muli earned in his past life.

Thinking of this, An Jing swallowed carefully. “What… what did you do to him?”

Yan Qili smiled, but didn’t answer directly. Instead, he asked: “You don’t know?”

Seeing the smile on Yan Qili’s face, An Jing had a bad feeling. Yan Qili was angry! Gauging the distance between them—running was out of the question, and fighting even less so.

While giving up, An Jing thought of his life-saving charm and reminded him weakly: “We signed an agreement yesterday.” Black and white ink; you can’t touch me.

Seeing An Jing so cowardly, Yan Qili gave an ambiguous “Heh” and glanced at him: “When did I ever say I was going to break the agreement?”

Because your expression right now is very dangerous!

An Jing blinked, angry but not daring to speak.

Yan Qili had finished his practice. He glanced at An Jing and walked toward the living room. Standing outside, An Jing raised his hands to pat his face, telling himself not to panic: Calm down, An Jing. Yan Qili is not someone who breaks his word. As long as that piece of agreement exists, you are safe. If nothing else, Yan Qili’s character can still be trusted.

…

After finishing his mental preparation, An Jing took a deep breath and shuffled inside. Looking at Yan Qili sitting on the sofa, he hesitated to speak.

Putting everything else aside, he was actually quite curious about Chu Muli’s final outcome. This was a plot point he hadn’t conceived yet, and he was curious to what extent the original world’s consciousness had perfected itself. Also, if he were to write this book, would he really design such an ending for Chu Muli?

In Yan Qili’s view, An Jing was like a blank piece of paper; everything he thought was displayed on his face. He couldn’t hide even a small thought. There was no need to spend effort guessing what he was thinking. Someone so incapable of disguise and so naive would have died eight hundred times over in his world.

An Jing didn’t know he had already been seen through by Yan Qili. He was hesitating over whether to continue the previous topic. Yan Qili didn’t leave him anxious for too long. After Chu Muli stabbed him in the back, the Yan Qili who returned alive didn’t kill him immediately.

“Not only did I not kill him,” Yan Qili’s smile didn’t reach his eyes, “I also promoted him and made him my deputy general.”

Why? That was An Jing’s first thought.

However, he soon realized—this move by the Living Yama is called “killing with praise”!

After the plot was exposed, what Chu Muli feared most was Yan Qili settling accounts later. He was anxious, thinking of Yan Qili’s crazy revenge, but as a result, Yan Qili didn’t take revenge; he even promoted him. Being made a deputy general meant he had to see Yan Qili almost every day. Did Chu Muli feel a sense of relief, thinking his friend had forgiven him?

No. Knowing Yan Qili’s character, he would only fall into deeper terror, unable to sleep day or night, wondering exactly when Yan Qili would deal with him and what kind of torture he would use. This was a process of mental torment. For Chu Muli, it must have been no less than a “death by a thousand cuts.” Death, for him, would have been a form of relief instead.

Yan Qili knew An Jing understood. He spoke slowly: “He was a deputy general for one year, unable to eat or sleep for that entire year. In the end, there wasn’t much meat left on his bones.”

“This is the ending I gave him. I wonder if you, the original author, are satisfied?”

Under Yan Qili’s smiling gaze, An Jing suddenly shuddered.

Besides being satisfied, what else can I say?

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