The Beautiful Top Being Pursued Relentlessly [Quick Transmigration] - Chapter 3

Xie Cheng was starting to regret bringing Jiang Yi along.

As dawn broke, the rain that had lashed down all night finally tapered off. Jiang Yi was behind the wheel, eyes bright and fixed on the road ahead, but his mouth wouldn’t stop moving for a second.

“Right here a while back, a huge crowd showed up to scavenge whatever was left in the supermarket. It turned into a massive brawl. But then, something weird happened. Someone locked the iron gates from the outside, trapping everyone inside. By the time I arrived with my men, there was nothing left but a floor covered in white bones.”

Finishing his tale, Jiang Yi leaned over with an exaggerated, dramatic flair. “It’s terrifying out there.”

The passenger seat was reclined to its lowest and furthest position, allowing Xie Cheng to lie back completely. He pinched the bridge of his nose, his voice flat as he addressed Jiang Yi. “Where are the supplies?”

If there had been that much food, why did it devolve into cannibalism?

“That’s the strangest part. The supplies from several warehouses just… vanished.” Seeing no reaction from Xie Cheng, Jiang Yi didn’t lose heart. “My guess? Some kind of man-eating monster showed up.”

Before meeting Xie Cheng, Jiang Yi didn’t believe in monsters or spirits. After meeting him, he realized his world-view had been far too narrow. If the world could produce a celestial being like Xie Cheng, it could certainly harbor ugly, man-eating demons.

Xie Cheng opened one eye and glanced at him. “You’re overthinking it.”

Ever since the founding of the new state, spirits weren’t allowed to manifest anymore. He was simply an anomaly.

Jiang Yi nodded enthusiastically, a goofy grin on his face. “Mm-hmm.” Whatever the immortal said was law.

Unable to bear the sight of that foolish expression, Xie Cheng silently closed his eyes and turned onto his side. He gathered his messy, long hair into a single thick strand and tossed it behind his back out of sight, out of mind.

Through the grime-streaked window, Jiang Yi could see the profile of his face. The small flower bud at Xie Cheng’s temple drooped slightly, its delicate tip brushing against his forehead.

The bud was tender, translucent white, and cradled by pale green sepals. The stem supporting it was thin and soft, seemingly unable to bear even that tiny weight, hanging limp and fragile.

Jiang Yi’s attention drifted. That stem looked even softer than it had before he’d fallen unconscious.

His foot eased off the accelerator, and the car slowed. Keeping one hand on the steering wheel, he reached out with the other to touch Xie Cheng’s arm.

“Xie Cheng? Xie Cheng?”

There was no response from the “immortal.”

Panic flared in Jiang Yi’s chest, and he slammed on the brakes.

The old, worn tires skidded, shrieking against the asphalt as the car slid for a considerable distance.

In the passenger seat, Xie Cheng’s brows furrowed. Just as he opened his eyes, a blinding white light exploded into his vision.

A car had swerved out from nowhere, slamming head-on into theirs.

CRASH—

The front end crumpled instantly, metal screeching as the vehicle shattered under the impact.

Xie Cheng wanted to die.

He had never thought the Romance Department’s assignments were difficult—until he met Jiang Yi. The man was a fool who didn’t even know how to dodge an oncoming car.

Even though that fool was currently putting on his most pitiful act—head bowed, shoulders slumped, those round puppy eyes casting downward—Xie Cheng remained unmoved.

Surrounded by collapsed high-rises, Xie Cheng had found a relatively clean spot on the rubble to sit. His waist-length hair spilled messily around him. He held a handgun in his hands, stripping it down and reassembling it with practiced ease.

He’d swiped the gun from Jiang Yi’s holster.

In the silence, Jiang Yi watched him. He watched Xie Cheng’s long, elegant fingers dance around the mechanical parts, clicking them back into place.

It reminded him of when Xie Cheng had snatched the gun earlier. Those pale, clean fingers had slipped deftly under the hem of his shirt, the pads of his fingers brushing against Jiang Yi’s skin a touch so brief it was gone before he could register it.

It had let a draft in. It felt cold.

“I promise I’ll watch the road next time,” Jiang Yi muttered. He was wearing a high-collared tactical suit, which barely hid the nervous bob of his Adam’s apple.

“So you’re saying you usually don’t watch the road?” Xie Cheng’s tone was cool. He finished reassembling the weapon and looked up, the dark muzzle of the gun pointing directly at Jiang Yi.

Or rather, at the man behind him.

Behind Jiang Yi, next to the heap of scrap metal that used to be their car, a curly-haired man sat tied up. His eyes were blindfolded, and he was struggling fruitlessly, unable to make a sound through the rag stuffed in his mouth.

“Who is he?”

Jiang Yi shook his head instinctively, desperate to distance himself from the person who’d caused the crash.

“Don’t lie. I know you know each other.”

“Not really! I don’t know where he’s from, how old he is, or even if… well, okay. His name is Xu Le,” Jiang Yi admitted, turning to glare at the curly-haired man. “The Leader picked him up and brought him to the base a while ago. I’ve only seen him a few times. We haven’t exchanged more than three sentences. I have no idea why he’s out here.”

“Xu Le,” Xie Cheng repeated thoughtfully, eyeing the Shou (protagonist) of this world, completely tuning out the rest of Jiang Yi’s rambling.

System 222 chimed in: [In the original plot, the two leads were supposed to meet now. The weird thing is, there isn’t a single spark of romance between them yet.]

The romantic plot had shifted. Usually, such a change was triggered by something—or someone—new. This Xu Le was highly suspicious.

“What are you doing?”

Xie Cheng’s train of thought was interrupted as a figure loomed over him. Jiang Yi was crouching there, hands tucked into his sleeves, looking at him with a hopeful smile.

“I just wanted to ask if you were hungry?”

“No.”

“Well, when will you be hungry? I can go find something for you ahead of time,” Jiang Yi offered.

Xie Cheng glanced at the murky sky. Though several hours had passed since dawn, the sun had yet to break through the gloom. He did a mental calculation. “In three hours. I’ll need to eat then.”

He wasn’t one for culinary indulgence; eating was merely a necessity to maintain basic biological functions and energy. If Jiang Yi hadn’t mentioned it, he probably would have forgotten entirely.

Jiang Yi’s eyes lit up, his “pitiful” posture vanishing instantly. “Got it!”

“Mm,” Xie Cheng grunted, stowing the gun away.

Suddenly, his vision darkened. Jiang Yi’s retreating figure became a blurring black speck, flickering against a sudden burst of red and green light that pulsed in his eyes.

His head spun.

Xie Cheng propped his arm against the gravel and grit, pressing his other hand firmly against his temple. His consciousness felt as though it were slipping into an abyss sinking, falling, wrapped in an endless, numbing darkness.

Xie Cheng had once been targeted by the “Malice of the World,” leaving his body with severe after-effects. It was a psychic-level affliction, notoriously difficult to cure.

The Purification Department had offered a treatment plan, but Xie Cheng had never been patient. He couldn’t stand slow recoveries and preferred blunt, forceful solutions.

Eventually, the dizzying numbness faded, replaced by a sharp, localized agony a million needle-pricks boring into him.

Strangely, the pain calmed him. Compared to the suffocating weakness of the void, this visceral pain was a tether to reality. It was a hole punched through the darkness of the abyss.

A ray of light broke through.

Xie Cheng caught a glimpse of a blurry shadow moving in front of him. Instinctively, his fingers shot out and clamped around its throat.

“Cough… cough…”

Jiang Yi’s reflexes had failed him completely. As those cool fingers tightened around his neck, he didn’t fight back. He simply placed his own hand over Xie Cheng’s, stroking it gently in a silent attempt to soothe him.

Xie Cheng snapped out of the nightmare, his silver-grey eyes bloodshot—the red veins spreading until his pupils were momentarily stained a deep crimson.

The color vanished as quickly as it had appeared. He regained his composure and pulled his hand away, staring at the red marks on Jiang Yi’s neck. He exhaled slowly. “You didn’t think to dodge?”

“It doesn’t hurt.” Jiang Yi leaned in closer, his nose nearly touching Xie Cheng’s. “Are you feeling unwell?”

Xie Cheng pushed him back. “Just talk. Why do you have to get so close?”

Jiang Yi blinked. “I just wanted to see you clearly. I wasn’t going to do anything.”

Xie Cheng realized his reaction might have been a bit much, but he wasn’t the type to offer explanations. He settled for a quiet “Mm.”

“Does that mean you’re not mad at me anymore?” Jiang Yi pressed.

“Right.”

Exactly three hours had passed since Jiang Yi went looking for food. Having received Xie Cheng’s forgiveness, he happily set about putting together a “makeshift dining table.”

He laid a floral tablecloth over a flat stone slab, topped it with a small bouquet of dried flowers, a seared steak, and a bowl of vegetable noodles garnished with an impressive array of toppings.

It was a mystery where Jiang Yi had found these things; he was like a post-apocalyptic Doraemon, constantly pulling treasures out of thin air.

Finally, Jiang Yi set up two folding chairs on the level ground and gestured broadly. “Xie Cheng! Lunch is ready. I’m sure it’s stuff you’ll like.”

“Where did you get all this?” Xie Cheng asked as he sat down.

“A supermarket. It’s nearby. They still had some stock left.”

System 222 immediately snitched: The nearest supermarket is a full ten kilometers away.

The system played back the footage for Xie Cheng. The screen was a dull grey, choked by smog, until a sudden burst of fire carved through the gloom.

In the recording, Jiang Yi stood in the middle of a road, a ball of fire in his left hand and a blade in his right. Ghoulish zombies with rotting limbs and grey fangs charged at him. In the blink of an eye, a pillar of flame erupted, incinerating everything in its path. Even through the screen, the heat felt suffocating.

The playback ended with Jiang Yi walking out of the ruins clutching a bag of noodles, the floral tablecloth draped over his shoulder like a cape, fluttering in the wind.

Just like that. Ten kilometers, and he left a pile of zombie corpses a mile high, 222 remarked.

Xie Cheng gave a detached critique. “Hmm. Decent skills.”

Host, you are so dismissive!

Xie Cheng ignored the system.

The meal was a quiet affair. Xie Cheng picked out the ingredients he didn’t like, pushing them to the corner of his plate to deal with later. But when he looked up after a sip of soup, the shredded meat—which he’d been trying to hide under some potato shreds had vanished.

Xie Cheng looked at Jiang Yi. The man’s cheeks were bulging as he chewed frantically, trying to be as silent as possible.

Feeling Xie Cheng’s gaze, Jiang Yi’s eyes darted around guiltily. “Food is precious. It’s bad to waste it.”

Xie Cheng felt his headache returning. He rubbed his temples. “Jiang Yi, I think we need to have a talk.”

As he said “talk,” he set his chopsticks down.

Jiang Yi swallowed hard and sat up straight, his body tense. He tried to flatten the smile on his face to look serious, which only made him look slightly fierce. “Okay, okay. Tell me. I’ll agree to anything.”

“I don’t like it when people.”

Jiang Yi’s eyes welled up. “Fine,” he whispered. “I just.  I just didn’t want to waste food.”

Xie Cheng’s next words died in his throat.

Forget it, he thought. Why am I trying to reason with an idiot?

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