Quick Transmigration: I Got Too Far And Was Surrounded By A Bunch Of Crazy Perverts - Chapter 5

A strong scent of alcohol followed him into the room.

Miao Yang blinked. He was kneeling on the sofa, clutching the backrest, his clear, bright eyes shimmering with moisture. Having spent the last few days eating and sleeping, he had recovered well, and his skin had regained a healthy glow. The bruises and swelling on his face had completely vanished. He had even shaved his head into a crew cut, which Qin Yi had done for him. With his hair growing out just a little, it looked decent enough, though it still felt prickly to the touch.

Shi Lan walked in with a steady gait and threw himself onto the sofa, nearly scaring Miao Yang into jumping out of his skin. The youth quickly crawled to the side, terrified of being crushed. Shi Lan cast a glance at him, draped his long arm over the back of the sofa, and closed his eyes as if resting.

Miao Yang hesitated, then carefully crawled over and asked ingratiatingly, “Big Brother, are you drunk?”

Shi Lan suddenly opened his eyes and grabbed the boy’s arm. Miao Yang’s eyes widened as he met Shi Lan’s cold, indifferent gaze. Before he could react, he was pulled into a broad embrace. Oh no, this is so humiliatingly submissive, he thought. I am tainted, he told 168.

168: 【…】

Shi Lan pulled him tightly into his chest. Seeing the youth struggling fiercely, he gripped Miao Yang’s neck with a cold, threatening tone. “Move again, and see what happens.”

Miao Yang froze, his neck stiff, terrified. “B-Big Brother.”

Shi Lan’s gaze was icy, his eyes cutting into Miao Yang like a blade. The loose shirt he was wearing belonged to Shi Lan, and the oversized shorts he wore were his as well. Shi Lan released his neck and gripped the back of it instead, applying pressure that caused a sharp sting.

The intense, burning contact made Miao Yang shiver; he feared that with one careless move, his boss might snap his neck. He looked down to see that massive, bony hand, which looked strong enough to crush steel, resting firmly on his thigh. Oh, help me! Miao Yang shivered and tried to jump off the sofa, but an arm was barred across his waist. He could not move; instead, he was pulled tighter, gasping for breath.

Shi Lan’s behavior was bizarre and terrifying. Miao Yang trembled, unable to stop shaking. “B-Big Brother, we can talk about this. You are just drunk.”

Shi Lan smelled strongly of alcohol, and his breathing was heavy. His eyes were like a dark, bottomless night, bearing down on Miao Yang. The youth pushed his hands against the man’s muscular arm, desperately trying to pull away.

“Calm down, please! I have not showered, I have athlete’s foot, and my breath stinks. Please, I do not want to insult you!”

His face turned bright red because Shi Lan’s strength was overwhelming. Miao Yang struggled violently, falling onto the sofa, before quickly scrambling back into the corner.

Shi Lan was clearly drunk and felt restless. He glanced at Miao Yang, leaning back against the sofa with scorching breath. He felt a lingering, ghost-like sensation on his fingertips. The boy had a faint, clean scent about him that was so different. They used the same shower products, and the boy was wearing his clothes, yet he smelled so incredibly good.

Miao Yang, terrified by Shi Lan, yanked hard at the drawstring of his pants. Damn, this pervert.

“Why are you running?” Shi Lan asked, his voice gravelly, deep, and thick with intoxication.

Miao Yang smiled. “I am not running.”

Shi Lan reached out, caught the boy’s lower leg, and hoisted Miao Yang up from behind. Miao Yang was forced to face away from him, trapped in a restrictive hold. He felt as though his leg might snap.

“Ow!” Miao Yang felt as though his stiff little body was about to fold in half. He dared not move; any pull caused agonizing pain. “B-Big Brother, my leg, it hurts, hurts, hurts!” He was pinned by Shi Lan’s weight; he could neither retreat nor advance.

The disparity in their physiques was stark. Shi Lan felt that every part of this youth was delicate. His skin felt good to the touch, not like his own men, who were rough-skinned and thick-fleshed.

The man patted Miao Yang’s waist with a threatening rhythm, his intent unclear. “Shen Xumo sending you over, that is interesting.”

But goddamn, this waist is really thin.

The youth’s legs were fair and slender, with beautiful muscle definition—not too thin, but lacking the solid, blocky bulk of his own men. Shi Lan held Miao Yang down effortlessly, like a mountain pinning a small animal. The visual contrast in their sizes was striking. Miao Yang, however, only felt his skin crawl. He felt as though he were being molested, and his scalp nearly exploded with panic. Yet, his strength was nothing compared to Shi Lan’s; he was completely powerless to resist.