After Falling in Love with a 2D Character as a Socially Anxious Person - Chapter 3

help.

 

But the “God of Slaughter” opened his mouth and asked for his life.

 

Yan Qili’s presence was overwhelming. Under his shadow, An Jing trembled all over, his throat tight as he begged him to change his request.

 

An Jing closed his eyes, not daring to look at the sword “Bu Po,” which he had designed to be lethal with a single touch. He forced himself to stay rational and reason with Yan Qili:

 

“Killi—Killing me won’t change the facts…”

 

Since Yan Qili had just arrived, why didn’t they try to find a solution together?

 

Yan Qili’s gaze was like a torch: “Can you write people back to life after they have died tragically?”

 

For example, his mother, or the countless brave soldiers who died in battle at the border…

 

To An Jing, the deaths of these supporting characters were just necessary for the plot. But in Yan Qili’s world, every one of them was a living person with flesh and blood, people who could cry and laugh.

 

Those few lines of light, concise outline represented the real experiences of Yan Qili’s first twenty-six years.

 

An Jing swallowed hard: “I—I can try.”

 

The new story hadn’t officially started yet, so the plot settings could be changed at any time. In principle, he could write those dead characters back to life.

 

But a fictional character crossing into the real world was too bizarre; he didn’t dare to jump to conclusions.

 

If he agreed and those people failed to come back to life, the “Living Yama” might think he was being toyed with, and he still wouldn’t escape death.

 

Yan Qili withdrew his sword, his slightly calloused fingers brushing the patterns on the hilt. “You had better not play any tricks.”

 

An Jing swallowed again. “Don’t worry.”

 

I’m a coward, I wouldn’t dare QAQ.

 

Yan Qili lifted An Jing out of the blanket. “Go now.”

 

An Jing was 176cm tall, which wasn’t short for the south, but compared to the 192cm Yan Qili, he looked far too small.

 

Yan Qili’s arm strength was incredible; lifting him was as easy as picking up a kitten or a chick.

 

An Jing was startled and flustered. “I can walk by myself.”

 

His struggling strength was miniscule to Yan Qili; his resistance was useless.

 

Passiveley pressed against Yan Qili’s rock-hard body, An Jing’s line of sight landed exactly on the other man’s neck.

 

Being this close, An Jing’s focus drifted for a split second—

 

As expected of a fictional character, even his Adam’s apple is shaped so perfectly.

 

Such perfect features and physique were sketched and described by his own pen.

 

The little person in An Jing’s heart pumped a fist: Great job on the physical description, Teacher Yannian!

 

Yan Qili looked down. “What are you looking at?”

 

The “great job” An Jing met Yan Qili’s eyes and snapped out of it. “Sorry.”

 

After steadying himself against Yan Qili’s chest, An Jing bounced away two meters like a spring.

 

Yan Qili, who didn’t expect An Jing to have this kind of agility: “…”

 

 

A few minutes later, An Jing, wearing fluffy pajamas and having had no time to wash up, was pressed into his study by Yan Qili.

 

“This is a computer,” An Jing kindly explained to this ancient man while turning it on.

 

Standing beside him, Yan Qili looked indifferent, appearing to have no interest in modern high technology.

 

An Jing, trying to fill the silence, felt awkward and nervously fidgeted with his hands while staring at the startup screen.

 

True, Yan Qili probably only cared about whether his mother could come back to life and whether he could travel back.

 

The computer started running with a slight hum.

 

Moving the cursor, An Jing clicked on the folder named “Living Yama.” It was completely empty.

 

His ideas, reference materials, plot, and character outlines from yesterday.

 

They were all gone!

 

An Jing’s eyes widened slightly. He checked the Recycle Bin and the computer several times, but found nothing.

 

His new story had vanished into thin air.

 

Yan Qili easily saw through An Jing. His dark blue eyes were deep and bottomless. “It won’t work?”

 

“It’s gone.” The cursor moved around the folders like a headless fly. An Jing wished he could shrink and crawl into the computer to dig through the files himself.

 

“I clearly put it here last night. How can it be gone?”

 

Everything in the computer regarding “Living Yama” had disappeared along with Yan Qili’s appearance.

 

An Jing looked at Yan Qili in a panic.

 

How could this happen?

 

Would Yan Qili fly into a rage?

 

Was it too late to call the police?

 

Wait, Yan Qili’s combat power is so high—could the police even stop him?

 

Would it cause unnecessary casualties?

 

A fictional character came out of a computer; how would he explain that to the police? Would they even believe him?

 

What if the police thought he was crazy and sent him to a mental asylum?

 

An Jing’s mind was a mess, and he grew more terrified the more he thought. Meanwhile, the Living Yama’s face darkened slightly, though he didn’t seem entirely surprised.

 

Yan Qili still remembered those blocky characters that had entered his mind.

 

He hadn’t held much hope for his mother’s resurrection, so naturally, he wasn’t that disappointed now.

 

He had never believed in supernatural things, but now he had to believe.

 

An Jing tried to create a new document to rewrite the settings, but Yan Qili’s tragic memories did not change as the words changed.

 

 

In the spacious and bright living room, the morning sun covered half the carpet.

 

An Jing carefully poured a glass of water for Yan Qili, then immediately retreated to the single sofa furthest away from him.

 

Yan Qili’s past could not be rewritten, and they couldn’t find a way back to his original world.

 

The situation had hit a deadlock.

 

If he was too close to Yan Qili, An Jing worried that if they disagreed, Bu Po would leave another mark on him.

 

Although, given Yan Qili’s skills, if he really wanted to do something, it wouldn’t matter how far An Jing hid.

 

But staying far away at least bought him some time to run.

 

The scratch from last night hadn’t been cleaned in time and had scabbed over. An Jing had just gritted his teeth against the pain to treat it in front of the mirror, applying a large bandage.

 

The bandage was very obvious on An Jing’s fair neck. Yan Qili, sitting with his sword, glanced at it with a cold expression.

 

Such a tiny wound, yet it deserved such a fuss.

 

A grown man, so pale and weak; he probably couldn’t even lift a sword on a battlefield.

 

Delicate.

 

As someone with social anxiety, An Jing was more sensitive to the emotional changes of those around him than average people. He understood the look of disdain in Yan Qili’s eyes.

 

But the wound made by Bu Po really hurt!

 

An Jing raised his hand to cover his neck. In a fit of social anxiety rage…

 

He felt a bit angry in his heart.

 

With an extra person suddenly in the house, especially one with such a strong aura, An Jing felt like he was sitting on needles even in a familiar environment.

 

In the past, he would have hidden somewhere with no people, but he couldn’t today.

 

He couldn’t hide, and there was nowhere to hide.

 

Meeting Yan Qili’s sweeping gaze, An Jing weakly raised his hand to speak:

 

“Don’t worry, I will take responsibility for you.”

 

He hadn’t expected a fictional character to actually come to life. Thinking about the many hardships and struggles he had heaped upon Yan Qili to create the “beautiful, strong, and miserable” trope…

 

Besides fear and panic, An Jing inevitably felt guilty.

 

Even though none of it was his original intention.

 

When writing, he just happened to enjoy “sending blades” (writing tragic plots).

 

However, other than himself, the Living Yama was a stranger in a strange land with no one else to rely on.

 

An Jing was willing to spend money and effort.

 

Hearing the words “take responsibility,” Yan Qili raised an eyebrow and looked An Jing up and down.

 

“Responsibility? How do you plan to take responsibility?”

 

In the world he came from, male romance was common. Keeping male companions originally only existed among the nobility, but later the lower classes followed suit. Male brothels popped up like bamboo shoots after rain, making huge profits.

 

Over the years, many people had tried to curry favor by sending people to Yan Qili. After various beautiful women were rejected, some people tried a different approach and sent male companions.

 

Unfortunately, the Living Yama was not interested in women, nor was he fond of men.

 

An Jing could write BL novels and was imaginative enough to set a plot where two normal grown men could have a child after sleeping together. His sexual orientation was questionable to Yan Qili.

 

Yan Qili spoke bluntly: “I am not interested in men.”

 

Not just men; women were the same.

 

Yan Qili had never thought about marrying anyone.

 

“Huh?”

 

An Jing froze for a second. It took him a moment to realize what Yan Qili had misunderstood, and his face instantly turned bright red.

 

The responsibility he meant was not that kind of responsibility!

 

An Jing didn’t dare look at Yan Qili. With a flushed face, he explained: “No, you misunderstood. I didn’t mean it that way.”

 

“I’m not interested in men either!”

 

Other people were homophobic; he was “peopl-ophobic”!

 

Even in the worst-case scenario, if he really were gay, he would definitely not be crazy enough to like this “God of Slaughter.”

 

He knew exactly what would happen to someone who had ill intentions toward the Living Yama.

 

As the original author, no one knew Yan Qili’s character better than him.

 

Yan Qili, who had been betrayed repeatedly, was cold-hearted and cold-natured before meeting the protagonist “shou.” His sexual orientation was his sword.

 

He only trusted the Bu Po in his hand.

 

Now that the folder was empty and Yan Qili had come out of the book, the protagonist shou and their child had naturally become non-existent.

 

His only weakness was gone too.

 

“Don’t worry.” An Jing’s tea-colored eyes were full of sincerity as he promised:

 

“Reality is not a BL novel. As long as you are unwilling, you will definitely not have a ‘husband’.”

 

The era of blind marriages and arranged marriages was long gone.

 

An Jing’s expression didn’t look fake, and he was shaking his head so hard it was like a rattle. Yan Qili believed him for now, but the way he looked at him was a bit strange.

 

An Jing, who understood Yan Qili’s look again.

 

No one said a socially anxious straight guy couldn’t write an mpreg BL novel!

 

After proving his innocence, An Jing spoke tentatively: “How about I find a place for you to stay first?”

 

If Yan Qili could never return to his original world, the primary issue was that the once-mighty War God was now just an undocumented person without a household registration or ID card.

 

An Jing considered it and planned to find a hotel for Yan Qili in his own name, or directly rent an apartment for him.

 

Fix the housing issue first.

 

Yan Qili spoke calmly: “I will stay with you.”

 

An Jing: “???”

 

An Jing didn’t spend the money he earned from writing recklessly. His biggest expense was buying this top-floor duplex with a large terrace. It was 170 square meters with four rooms across two floors.

 

Besides the master bedroom and the study, one room was used as a storage room.

 

That left only one empty room.

 

He lived alone all year round and had no need for guests, so he hadn’t even bought a bed for that room.

 

A house this big was perfectly fine for two people. The problem was that An Jing had never thought about living with someone else!

 

Not to mention that this person was Yan Qili, who could crush ten of him with one punch.

 

How could this work!

 

Yan Qili looked up at him, his tone deepening slightly: “What, you are unwilling?”

 

An Jing: “…”

 

Only a ghost would be willing!!!

 

An Jing, afraid that a direct rejection would annoy Yan Qili, held it in for a long time. In the end, his strong desire to “live alone due to social anxiety” won out:

 

“How about… you think about it again?”