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

The strange voice falling by his ear was deep and pleasant, but An Jing’s heart rate instantly spiked to its peak.

 

The cold weapon pressed against his neck felt incredibly real. His survival instinct made him stop mid-motion as he tried to sit up, and terrifying thoughts flashed through his mind:

 

A home invasion?

 

How did this person get into his house? How long had they been in his room?

 

When did the security in their neighborhood become so bad?

 

After quickly analyzing his current situation, An Jing, despite the mess in his mind, used his remaining logic to make the best choice—

 

He stayed in his half-seated position and remained perfectly still.

 

“I won’t move.” An Jing tried to sound calm. “You… you, you calm down.”

 

An Jing finished speaking with a stutter, praying in his heart that the other person was a rational robber who only wanted money and wouldn’t hurt anyone.

 

His unsteady, trembling voice betrayed his true emotions.

 

The man didn’t make a sound. Fortunately, the weapon pressed against his neck didn’t go any further.

 

An Jing steadied his mind and worked up the courage to speak: “Do you… need money?”

 

“I can give you money. Don’t worry, I definitely won’t call the police.”

 

A wise man submits to fate; An Jing chose to soothe the criminal’s emotions first.

 

The moon, which had been bright and clear before he went to sleep, had hidden behind the clouds at some point. The entire room was as dark as ink.

 

No one replied. The atmosphere fell into a deadlock, and the feeling of being watched remained.

 

An Jing felt like there were needles in his back.

 

What exactly did this person want? If they wouldn’t talk, fine, but why was there no next move?

 

It wasn’t easy to maintain this posture; he was about to give out.

 

Ping—

 

The phone by his pillow suddenly lit up, illuminating a small area. The energetic voice of a cartoon character rang out:

 

“Master, please check your text message~”

 

With the help of the weak light from the phone screen, An Jing saw a tall figure with a blurred outline and a pair of calm, dark blue eyes.

 

Before An Jing could get a closer look, a great force hit him, pinning him back down onto the bed.

 

“Ah—” A muffled cry escaped An Jing’s throat, both from the man’s sudden movement and from the sharp pain in his neck.

 

His neck had been cut. The man didn’t seem to intend to kill him; the wound was very shallow.

 

But it hurt!

 

The two of them were pressed too close together.

 

An Jing hadn’t had such close contact with anyone for a very long time. It was so close that every cell in his body was screaming in protest.

 

The ignored phone screen went dark. In the darkness, An Jing, who was nearly scared out of his mind, had tears welling in his eyes. His hands shook as he tried to push the person pinning him down, and in his desperation, he spoke very fast:

 

“Home invasion and breaking in to hurt someone are not the same thing. You—”

 

The man’s voice, as cold as frost, rang out again: “Shut up.”

 

There was a huge difference in their size and strength. The man easily suppressed An Jing’s full resistance. His tone was flat but carried a powerful threat:

 

“If you make more noise, I’ll kill you.”

 

An Jing: “!!”

 

His whole body jerked.

 

His intuition told him that this outlaw who appeared out of nowhere really dared to kill him!

 

An Jing was shaking all over with fear, but he pressed his lips tight and didn’t dare make another sound, fearing he would annoy this criminal. It was only then that he noticed the texture under his hands was wrong.

 

He didn’t know where the blanket on his body had gone. The man was pinning his limbs down and pressing against him. The texture of the clothes the man was wearing was very strange.

 

An Jing felt like he had touched a piece of cold iron on a winter night; it was icy and rock-hard.

 

It felt uncomfortable against him.

 

He had never seen any clothing material that felt like this.

 

Could it be protective gear specially worn for the robbery?

 

An Jing’s thoughts wandered for a second before being pulled back. He realized another, more serious problem—

 

They were so close, yet he couldn’t feel the man’s breath or even a heartbeat.

 

In an extremely dark environment, senses other than sight become exceptionally sharp. An Jing, who had softened his breathing, could clearly hear his own heartbeat and even the weak sound of the wind outside.

 

Thump, thump, thump—

 

An Jing’s heart beat one after another, each time faster and stronger.

 

There was indeed only his own heartbeat.

 

A man who appeared silently in the middle of the night, with no signs of life, immense strength, and wearing strange clothes…

 

A chill rose from the soles of his feet to his scalp. An Jing’s face was filled with horror.

 

Is this a person, a ghost, or a spirit?

 

While An Jing’s thoughts were running wild like a runaway horse, a hand covered his face, accurately pinching his cheeks in the darkness.

 

“I ask, you answer.” The man’s voice sounded like a ghost: “If there is a single lie…”

 

The man didn’t finish the sentence, but An Jing already felt the threat in his words.

 

The man’s palm was very large. One hand-controlled half of his face, making it so he couldn’t even manage a simple tilt of the head.

 

This feeling of being under absolute control was unpleasant. An Jing tried to hide, but he was firmly held in place by the man. Fingers pinched his chin, forcing him to look up.

 

“Speak.”

 

The man not only had no heartbeat, but his hands were also as cold as if they had just been pulled out of an icy pond.

 

No matter how you looked at it, he didn’t seem like a normal person.

 

Shaken by the cold temperature of the man’s fingertips, An Jing let out a whimper. The tears that had been held in his eyes for a long time finally rolled down, disappearing into his hair and between the man’s fingers.

 

Along with the increasing pressure on his face—as if his chin was about to be dislocated—under the mix of pain and terror, An Jing closed his eyes—

 

And fainted.

 

Feeling the dampness between his fingers, the man: …?

 

Tsk.

 

 

An Jing slept very deeply and soundly. When he woke up, it was broad daylight.

 

He sat up and stretched, then suddenly took a light breath. Why did his neck hurt a little?

 

Before he could figure it out, he looked up and met a pair of dark blue eyes.

 

An Jing’s movements came to a sudden halt.

 

Looking at the strange man sitting boldly in his room, everything from last night played in his head like a slideshow. An Jing wanted to cry:

 

It wasn’t a dream!

 

He couldn’t worry about the wound on his neck. Between screaming and fainting or resisting to the death, An Jing chose to wrap himself tightly in his blanket and shrink back toward the headboard, shaking like a leaf.

 

Since he hadn’t lost any limbs after fainting and had even slept peacefully, An Jing felt a bit more confident. He pretended to be calm:

 

“Who are you? What exactly do you want?”

 

Most importantly, are you human?

 

From his unsteady voice, one could tell that the bit of confidence he just gained… was indeed as thin as a thread.

 

You couldn’t blame An Jing for doubting the man’s species first thing in the morning, because the way the other person was dressed truly didn’t look like an ordinary person—

 

Ink-black long hair paired with a red cape, holding a heavy sword, and armor stained with blood.

 

The tall man was covered in a fierce, murderous aura, looking exactly like a “Living Yama” who had just stepped out of a battlefield of corpses and blood.

 

An Jing shrank back at the headboard, not even daring to look him in the eye.

 

The man looked up at him and coldly spat out three words: “Yan Qili.”

 

An Jing: “Huh?”

 

This name sounded very familiar to him.

 

The main character of the novel he had planned last night also had this name.

 

Seeing An Jing’s inability to react, the man stood up and slowly approached him, saying each word clearly:

 

“My name is Yan Qili.”

 

The man got closer and closer. An Jing wished he could stick himself to the wall. Just talk, can you stop getting closer.

 

The man stopped at the edge of the bed and looked down at him: “Now, do you remember who I am?”

 

Tense because the two of them were too close, An Jing took a moment to react.

 

Huh? What was the name?

 

His dull gaze fell on the face of the man calling himself Yan Qili, and his eyes moved down from that handsome and noble face.

 

Yan Qili, who possessed foreign blood, had deep facial features and a beautiful appearance. His dark blue eyes were exactly like his mother’s. Known as the “Living Yama” of the battlefield, his aura was powerful and chilling. And at his waist…

 

An Jing’s gaze fell on the man’s waist and saw that cloud-patterned jade pendant. His mouth slowly drifted open.

 

After Yan Qili’s mother died, she was labeled as inauspicious by an astrologer, and all her belongings were burned. He had hidden it from everyone to secretly keep one cloud-patterned jade pendant. Since then… it always hung at his waist.

 

Looking at the sword in the man’s hand, the blade indeed had the two words “Unbroken.”

 

An Jing: …Wait?

 

What’s going on?!

 

The characteristics of the lead character for his new story that he had set in his documents before bed last night—every single one matched the man in front of him.

 

An Jing’s eyes were wide like a deer’s. He had a ridiculous feeling that he was still in a dream.

 

It was so funny. It couldn’t be that a “paper person” had traveled out of the computer, right?

 

And after coming out, he was using a weapon to threaten the personal safety of his creator?

 

This was neither logical nor right.

 

But at this moment, Yan Qili was truly standing in front of him. It wasn’t a hallucination from being too obsessed with his new story.

 

He and the man were total strangers, and his work computer had a password. He could basically rule out the possibility that a man had seen his new story settings and made a whole set of gear in just a few hours to prank him.

 

The large room was filled with a dead silence.

 

At this moment, An Jing felt it would be better if he really were “over fifty and had blurry eyes” like his fans said.

 

…

 

After a long time, having finally digested this ridiculous and nonsensical fact, An Jing worked up the courage to look the man in the eye and silently cheered himself on.

 

An Jing, what are you afraid of? No matter how fierce he looks, he is a paper person created by you.

 

No matter how cold and ruthless Yan Qili is, he wouldn’t really slit his neck with a sword… right?

 

Having gone from a weak and helpless victim to the creator who gave the paper person life, An Jing straightened his back slightly and spoke with a stutter, wanting to introduce himself first:

 

“H-Hello… I am—”

 

Your theoretical father.

 

An Jing couldn’t say the second half of the sentence because the cold, glinting “Unbroken” was once again resting against his fragile neck.

 

Yan Qili’s gaze toward him was like looking at a dead object. His tone was indifferent and dangerous: “What do you want to say?”

 

An Jing’s back, which had only been straight for two seconds, instantly collapsed. He surrendered immediately:

 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t say anything.”

 

This man, Yan Qili, really was capable of doing it!

 

At this thought, An Jing immediately added weakly: This is a society ruled by law. Killing people is illegal.

 

Seeing An Jing’s red eyes and how he was curled into a ball in fear, Yan Qili looked impatient:

 

“If you dare to cry, you won’t need to speak ever again.”

 

Facing the pitiful An Jing, the Living Yama of the battlefield didn’t feel a bit of sympathy. He opened his mouth with a threat.

 

An Jing was not brave to begin with, and everything in front of him was far beyond his capacity to handle. But he knew what kind of person the main character he had created was—

 

If he said he would make him unable to speak again, giving him poison to make him mute would be Yan Qili being merciful.

 

An Jing wanted to cry but didn’t dare. He sniffed hard and asked quietly what Yan Qili’s demands were.

 

This was the first time he had encountered a paper person coming out of a book, and he was very short on response plans.

 

Slowly wiping the heavy sword in his hand, Yan Qili glanced at him with a half-smile: “Demands?”

 

He had just returned from a victory in battle and hadn’t even had time to take off his blood-stained armor before arriving in a completely strange place.

 

After being briefly lost in the darkness, several lines of square characters he had never seen before suddenly pushed into his mind. Eerily, he could understand the meaning of those characters.

 

By reading those few hundred words, he had finished seeing his entire life.

 

Only then did Yan Qili know that his original world was just a story world conceived by An Jing.

 

And he was just a character in that story.

 

All the cold looks, deaths, and betrayals he had suffered from childhood to adulthood were only because the plot required it.

 

His mother was ordered to be beaten thirty times with a staff for embroidering a peony on a torn hem—because the high-ranking concubine who loved peonies took offense. She knelt in the snow for a whole night and finally slept forever on that snowy night. She couldn’t enter the imperial tomb and was finally buried on a hilltop—all because the plot required it.

 

He stormed into the golden palace and broke his head kowtowing, hoping his biological father, the current emperor, would give his mother justice. What he got back was a phrase: “It was her fate” because the plot required it.

 

His best friend drugged his food to lure in enemy troops, calculating and betraying him—also because the plot required it.

 

Finally, driven by the plot, he would fall in love with a man, digging out his heart and risking his life for the other party, and even raising a child with them…

 

After knowing all this, the Living Yama who crawled out of a sea of blood and corpses thought: Heh.

 

Falling in love? That wouldn’t happen.

 

Yan Qili truly had murderous intent toward this seemingly harmless An Jing.

 

“What if I said…” Yan Qili leaned down close, using the hilt of his sword to tilt up An Jing’s clean and small chin, forcing him to look directly into his eyes:

 

“My demand is that I want you to die?”