No One Is Allowed To Lay Eyes On The Evil God’s Precious Beauty - Chapter 21

Chapter 21: You Were Raised by Me

Confused by the situation, Wu Yi could only follow Qing Zhu’s last instructions before he lapsed into unconsciousness. He hurriedly left the area and had the driver take him home.

Throughout the ride, the jade bracelet in his arms remained silent, but its temperature continued to climb. It was becoming so hot it was almost searing; he didn’t even dare touch it with the tender skin of his palms.

Restless and anxious, he finally reached home. He bolted out of the car and back into the warmth of the house. Ignoring his own slight trembling, he immediately placed the jade bracelet into water, hoping to alleviate Qing Zhu’s bizarre high temperature.

In all the time he had known Qing Zhu, he had only ever felt cold from him. He wasn’t sure what was happening, but this situation was clearly wrong.

He fussed over it for a long time, using cold water and ice packs, but the temperature never dropped. Instead, it seemed to burn even more fiercely, like a raging fire.

“What should I do, Qing-qing?”

In times like this, his instinct was to ask Qing Zhu for help, but no voice answered him.

He sat cross-legged on the rug, wrapping the bracelet in ice packs. Suddenly, a name flashed through his mind, and he scrambled to find his phone.

Retrieving his dead phone from the cushions of the sofa, he rushed to his room for a charger. Crouching anxiously by the coffee table, he waited for the screen to light up and immediately dialed the number he had saved.

The rhythmic “beep” of the dial tone felt like a hammer against his heart. It wasn’t until the call was picked up that he felt he could breathe again.

“What’s up? Suddenly remembering me?”

Li Qingquan seemed to be performing some kind of ritual; a strange, archaic music filtered through the receiver into Wu Yi’s ear, making his worry and fear grow even heavier for no reason.

“I want to ask you something.” Wu Yi noticed his voice was very hoarse. He cleared his throat before continuing. “Qing-qing went out, and now he can’t manifest. His body is very hot. Why is that?”

He didn’t dare share the specific details, only the symptoms of Qing Zhu’s abnormality.

Hearing this, Li Qingquan dropped his usual flippant tone and told Wu Yi to wait a moment while he spoke to the host of the ritual. When he spoke again, he had moved to a quiet place.

“In this situation, he must have been injured by something.”

Wu Yi’s anxious heart sank, and his face grew even paler. He collapsed onto the rug, his mind going blank. “Then… what do we do?”

Perhaps because Qing Zhu had always displayed such powerful indifference, Wu Yi had assumed that while he might be easily drained of energy, as long as he was awake, he was indestructible.

Could the Qing Zhu who could do anything actually get hurt?

“I don’t actually know how to handle this. You know we’re usually Taoist Masters; if you consult us, it’s usually to…” Li Qingquan hesitated. “…it’s usually to destroy the thing, not to heal it.”

Wu Yi’s eyelashes fluttered. He reached out and cautiously touched the jade bracelet wrapped in the ice pack. It was still scorching. The ice packs had melted into a pool of water, leaving him at a loss.

Li Qingquan suddenly spoke up. “I remembered! There’s a method that might wake him up briefly. I saw it in my master’s books once.”

“What is it?”

“Burn something of his.”

Wu Yi was stunned. “Just… burn it?”

“Yes, but you must ensure it’s something related to him, something he at least acknowledges as his.” Someone seemed to be rushing Li Qingquan on his end, causing him to speak faster.

“Essentially, it’s a form of provocation. It’s his property; destroying it will make him angry. Burning is the fastest way to get results. If you can’t find anything, don’t force it. He’s not an ordinary being; this isn’t something people have seen before. Maybe he can handle it himself.”

Wu Yi understood vaguely and nodded blankly.

“Alright, we’ll talk later. I’ve got things to do. I’ll call you back.”

The line went dead.

Silence like death reclaimed the room. Wu Yi hesitated, looking left and right, not knowing what to burn.

This home belonged to him and Qing Zhu. He used to think everything here belonged to both of them, but after hearing Li Qingquan’s words, he realized how difficult it was to find something Qing Zhu truly acknowledged as his.

The sofa and the guest room were filled with plush dolls they had caught together at arcade machines.

Back then, Qing Zhu told him he needed to leave an object near a target person. Without a second thought, Wu Yi had chosen plushies. Whether it was the younger version of himself or the adult he was now, soft, warm dolls always brought a sense of stability.

But did these things… count as Qing Zhu’s?

He tried taking out the ugliest cockroach plushie, walked to the sink, and carefully lit a corner with a match. Fearing a fire, he turned on the faucet and soaked it before much had burned.

Back in the living room, the jade bracelet showed no change. The searing heat hadn’t lessened at all.

What else was there?

Wu Yi frantically searched the house, rummaging through every cabinet and drawer, but found nothing.

Maybe… he should go to Auntie Cen’s house and get the teacup Qing-qing used to use.

With that thought, he jumped up. But as he was hurriedly putting on his clothes, a flash of inspiration hit him. He stopped in his tracks and ran back to his bedroom.

On the side of his messy wardrobe was a small drawer dedicated to important items—a design Qing Zhu had implemented specifically to cure Wu Yi’s habit of losing things.

His ID, household register, and important documents were all there. At the very bottom were a few thin boxes. Wu Yi pulled out the middle one. Inside was a hand-knitted wool scarf—light grey, very soft, but with messy, uneven stitches that weren’t very pretty.

Taking the scarf to the bathroom, he clutched the soft fabric for a long time before striking a match and lighting the tassels at the end.

The wool burned slowly, curling up and emitting a thin trail of smoke. When the flame grew larger, he let go, letting the scarf fall into the sink and watching as the smoke died out.

Ripples spread in the sink. Wu Yi pouted and looked up, seeing his own tear-filled eyes in the mirror.

The scarf had been knitted by an old grandmother who often visited the orphanage. Back then, he had a red one, and this grey one was meant for Qing Zhu. He had kept it all these years.

When Wu Yi was little, he couldn’t keep secrets; once he started seeing Qing Zhu, he told those around him. His peers thought he was crazy, and the orphanage staff thought he had psychological issues. Only the old grandmother, after hearing his story, said she would knit a scarf for his “black-clothed brother” so he wouldn’t freeze in the winter.

Qing Zhu had only laughed then, but when Wu Yi left the orphanage, he reminded him to bring those things along.

Did this not count as Qing Zhu’s property either? Did he not even acknowledge this?

Wu Yi stood blankly before the sink, tears falling uncontrollably.

In a daze, he thought he heard a sound from the living room.

His heart jolted. He abandoned everything and ran out of the bathroom, straight toward the coffee table.

The ice packs had somehow all fallen to the floor. The jade bracelet was emitting a faint black-red glow, as if something were surging inside, nearly unable to suppress a burgeoning power.

It really worked!

Wu Yi stopped crying, wiped his eyes, and knelt by the coffee table, reaching out to test the bracelet’s temperature. It was still very hot. Realizing this, he couldn’t help but panic.

But the next second, the jade bracelet suddenly transformed into black mist, flowing through his fingers and expanding abruptly in the air, forming a massive, humanoid shape.

The mist rapidly defined itself. In the blink of an eye, it manifested into the most detailed human form Wu Yi had ever seen. He could even clearly see two crimson pupils slowly opening where the eyes should be.

Relieved, Wu Yi reached out to touch him. “Qing-qing.”

But before he could rise, the black mist lunged down.

With a thud, he was pinned heavily against the rug. He let out a sharp gasp as he felt his entire body enveloped by a burgeoning heat. The black mist felt substantial, pressing down on him with a completely unfamiliar sensation.

Qing Zhu didn’t say a word, but Wu Yi could feel a cold, piercing gaze fixed upon him, as if studying and scrutinizing him like a stranger.

Wu Yi’s body instinctively began to tremble. He hadn’t had a chance to warm up since coming inside and had been messing with cold water and ice packs; only now did he realize how poorly his body felt, yet he was in this awkward situation.

“Qing-qing, what’s wrong?”

His voice trembled involuntarily. Because of this sudden sense of strangeness, a wave of uncontrollable fear rose in his heart.

Qing Zhu didn’t respond. He simply leaned down to study him closely. The long hair made of black mist fell as he leaned forward, several strands brushing against Wu Yi’s cheeks—hot and itchy.

After an unknown amount of time, his hand rested on Wu Yi’s chin, gripping it with moderate force to turn him toward him. Then, he spoke slowly and deliberately.

“Who are you?”

The voice was very hoarse, yet it was unmistakably Qing Zhu’s.

Tears welled in Wu Yi’s eyes. He wanted to cry but didn’t dare. “You don’t even remember me.”

It was just as he feared. He was no different to Qing Zhu than those other people. He had been comforting himself, thinking he was special. But when it was time to forget, Qing Zhu wouldn’t remember him at all.

His body shook as he clenched his teeth to swallow his sobs. He said between gasps, “I’m Wu Yi.”

He didn’t know how else to introduce himself. Should he say he was his servant? He didn’t want that. He wanted Qing Zhu to remember his name, to remember who he was.

He didn’t want him to look at him with such cold eyes. He wanted him to be gentle and patient—even if he was sarcastic, it was fine. But he shouldn’t bully him or make him cry. That was the Qing Zhu he knew, not this mean, amnesiac stranger.

Long, scorching fingers gripped that thin, delicate chin. Crimson eyes glinted with coldness, studying the beautiful and fragile human beneath him.

The boy’s skin was very pale; even a light squeeze left a red mark. Large tears rolled down his face, yet he only dared to make small, sobbing sounds. He seemed very obedient and timid.

Logically, he should dislike such a creature, but as he stared into those water-blue eyes, an invisible force seemed to stop him from causing harm.

Wu, Yi.

The name was foreign to him now, yet it seemed to fit the person in front of him perfectly.

“It hurts…”

Wu Yi let out a small, sobbing whimper and gathered the courage to grab Qing Zhu’s wrist. Feeling the intense heat, his hand shook. When Qing Zhu didn’t move, Wu Yi carefully pried his fingers away one by one until his face was finally free. Afraid Qing Zhu might grab him again, he held onto the hand that was much larger than his own.

It was as if they were holding hands.

“Qing-qing.” Wu Yi sniffled, his thin eyelids flushed pink from crying. His voice was hoarse and soft. “Don’t be mean to me.”

Don’t be mean, don’t forget him, don’t treat him like an insignificant servant who could be discarded at any moment.

His tears fell even faster, only to be wiped away by a strand of black mist.

Wu Yi lay on the rug with blurred vision, seeing a subtle change in those long, crimson eyes.

“Who is treating you like a servant?”

Tear-stained eyes looked up slightly, wet black lashes making the redness at the corners of his eyes even more prominent.

Wu Yi sniffled, belatedly realizing he had accidentally spoken his thoughts out loud.

Cold, long fingers slid down from the corner of his eye, resting against his wet, slightly swollen lips. He pressed down gently on the lower lip, feeling the soft scent from within.

“You were raised by me. How could you be just a servant?”

Wu Yi’s eyes widened slightly. As the dark shadow pressed down heavily, distant memories he had forgotten began to resurface in his mind.