The Companion Player Doesn’t Want a Shura Field [Quick Transmigration] - Chapter 17

Three years ago, the mysterious president of Neon Agency suddenly struck it rich, seemingly due to a massive success in a particular investment. Because of this, the members of Lumos were finally able to leave their cramped old dormitory and move into a multi-unit villa.

However, to maintain team cohesion, the four of them lived in two adjacent rooms, each furnished with two 2-meter single beds. The initial room assignments were decided randomly by drawing lots. In the end, Qi Ming shared a room with Bian He, while Choi Yu-hyeon lived with Kim Woo-sung.

Unfortunately, this arrangement did not foster harmony. Instead, it fueled a toxic relationship between the latter two. They only managed to maintain a surface-level peace in front of Qi Ming; at all other times, Yu-hyeon and Woo-sung spent their days nitpicking and hurling biting sarcasms at one another.

Originally, their common enemy should have been Bian He. After all, he had drawn the lot everyone wanted and became the roommate of the eldest brother and leader. Yet, outside the stage, Bian He was gloomily taciturn to an absurd degree. Only Qi Ming could coax anything out of him beyond polite formalities like “Mm,” “No,” or “Sorry for the trouble.” Consequently, the others lost interest in targeting him.

To use an analogy, it was like punching a dull gray sponge. It would dent, but it would slowly return to its original shape as if nothing had happened.

After finishing their Seoul concert, they rested at a hotel for a day before returning to the villa to prepare for the upcoming show in Binhai.

One day, after practice ended, Qi Ming was so exhausted that he took an early shower and went straight to bed. After an unknown amount of time, his consciousness was stirred from a half-asleep state by faint movements from below. The moment the duvet was lifted, a draft of cold air from the air conditioner rushed in, only to be immediately tucked tight again by someone’s hand.

Slowly, that body pressed closer to him. It was close enough that he could feel the rise and fall of the person’s breathing against his knees. The person’s palm rested on Qi Ming’s waist over his pajamas, their fingertips intentionally stroking the skin beneath the fabric with a gentle, soothing rhythm.

It seemed they did not want to wake him, hoping he was in a deep sleep as before. However, when a person is overly fatigued, the brain remains in a state of hyper-arousal, and sleep quality often becomes poor.

Qi Ming’s eyelashes fluttered. Before he even fully opened his eyes, he felt the hand cautiously slide under the hem of his pajama top. The fingertips touching his skin were slightly cool. As they grazed his waistline, Qi Ming’s entire body stiffened.

The mattress dipped slightly. As the fingers moved downward, soft hair brushed against his abdomen, causing him to instinctively tense his abdominal muscles. Perhaps due to extreme nervousness, the other person did not notice Qi Ming’s obvious reaction and continued trying to adjust their position.

With his eyes closed, Qi Ming felt his legs being carefully parted as the other person’s knee wedged between them. This move was reckless, as if the intruder no longer cared if Qi Ming woke up. They were driven solely by their goal and were willing to pay the price of discovery.

The hand paused, hesitating for a moment, before the fingertips hooked onto the elastic waistband of his pajama pants. The fabric was gently tugged down, exposing the skin of his pubic bone to the cold air.

Qi Ming snapped his eyes open. Ignoring the commotion below, he glanced sideways at the adjacent bed where someone should have been lying. At this hour, it was empty.

He lowered his head and looked at the human-shaped silhouette beneath the duvet, hiding the flash of surprise in his eyes. Qi Ming pretended to still be fast asleep, but he made a sudden, sharp movement with his leg. He clearly felt the person’s body freeze; even their breathing seemed to vanish from the room.

The clock on the wall ticked away—tick, tick, tick—as time slowed to a crawl. Only after Qi Ming stifled a quiet yawn and nearly drifted off again did the other person breathe a sigh of relief and resume their actions.

What a strange sense of vigilance, Qi Ming thought.

And so, Qi Ming’s pajama pants were pulled down, the fabric still holding his lingering warmth. The other person’s knee pressed forward slightly. Through the thin layer of clothing, Qi Ming could feel the curve of tensed muscles in a state of intimate skin-to-skin contact.

Finally, Qi Ming felt the air directly. He always wore pajamas when he slept. Because of his germaphobia, he felt that no bedding in the world was ever truly clean. Qi Ming’s contact with the duvet did not last a second before that cool palm replaced it. Now, however, the hand was shockingly hot and coated in a fine sheen of sweat. The sweat gradually evaporated as the heat intensified.

The bedsheets began to wrinkle, and a corner of the duvet was pinned under Qi Ming’s ankle. It felt like a silent restraint; every tiny movement carried an interconnected heat.

Qi Ming closed his eyes again, his lashes trembling slightly against his lids to hide his clarity. He deliberately slowed his breathing, clenching his teeth to swallow any gasps that threatened to escape. He allowed only the shallowest breaths to leak from his lips, steady enough to mimic someone deep in a dream.

Suddenly, a faint moan escaped Qi Ming’s nose. He instantly suppressed it with a long inhalation, cutting the sound short like a thread snapped by the wind. Seemingly frustrated by this slip-up, Qi Ming’s breathing faltered for a second. This time, the sound was keenly caught by the other person.

The coward suddenly found his courage.

The long, feigned breaths of sleep had vanished, replaced by heated heaves that gradually synchronized with the intruder’s movements, signaling a sort of tacit permission. Whenever the other person hesitated, Qi Ming would deliberately let a low, airy sound escape his throat.

That sound was wrapped in the scent of fresh sweat and shifting temperatures, like wine dipped in honey, both sweet and intoxicating. It lingered between his teeth, laced with a lazy hoarseness. The tail end of the sound trembled as if he had no strength left, yet it draped itself over the other person’s sweat-soaked neck. It was not loud, but it acted like a hook, sinking straight into the other person’s heart.

He watched how that person’s breath hitched from the heat of his voice, how that greedy aura lost its rhythm, and how all restraint, bit by bit, collapsed.

The intruder no longer held back, acting like a devotee bewitched by a god. As the temperature rose, Qi Ming acted like a puppeteer holding the strings, occasionally giving a tug and watching the other person shiver in response. When he reopened his dark green eyes, they were clouded with a playful, shallow light.

Truthfully, such lack of experience did not interest him. Qi Ming was long used to others falling into his traps, whether he set them intentionally or not. However, this subtle sense of control and cautious thrill was just enough to make him smile. Thus, he chose to generously indulge the child’s uncontrollable desires.

It was not until the person choked on a sudden impact, their back arching painfully like a bow, that Qi Ming casually glanced at the bedroom door from the corner of his eye.

Oh dear, it was not closed tightly.

He closed his eyes again, wiping the smile clean from his face. Pretending he had only just woken up, Qi Ming sat bolt upright. He whipped the duvet aside with one hand and locked eyes with a panicked Bian He.

After a brief moment of being flustered, the blue-haired man recalled what had just happened. Thinking Qi Ming had been awake and consenting all along, Bian He did not let go. Keeping his position, he tilted his head up and blinked his fox-like eyes innocently at Qi Ming.

For a moment, Qi Ming’s lip nearly twitched. Guessing the identity of the night intruder was one thing; seeing the scene with his own eyes was quite another. Qi Ming truly had not expected the usually silent and gloomy Bian He to commit such a bold act.

What triggered him? Was it because he rubbed Choi Yu-hyeon’s head during practice today? Or because he gave Kim Woo-sung his favorite side dish during dinner?

Forget it. He could not remember, and it was not that important anyway.

What worried Qi Ming now was who was eavesdropping outside the door. Bian He’s sudden behavior could very well affect his mission and accelerate the romance progress. He had not had enough of being an idol yet; he quite enjoyed the feeling of being the center of attention after hard practice. He liked planting a small seed and harvesting a whole forest, and he did not want it to end too quickly.

Unfortunately, things did not go his way. The person outside was the one he least wanted to see. The silence between the two inside was taken as a signal to enter. The bedroom door was kicked open with such force that it slammed against the wall, the bang echoing throughout the entire villa.

“BIAN HE!!!”

A roar saturated with fury erupted.

“You pervert! Do you want to die?”

Choi Yu-hyeon stood there, his face flushed red with rage and nearly distorted. There was no doubt that the darkness in his glare toward Bian He was pure murderous intent. If Yu-hyeon had a kitchen knife in his hand, it would likely be buried in Bian He’s chest by now. Or rather, he probably wanted to cut out that cunning tongue.

To Qi Ming’s surprise, Bian He did not panic. He straightened up, tenderly wiped Qi Ming with a tissue, and helped him pull his pants back up. It was as if Yu-hyeon’s insults were nothing more than a roadside puppy barking.

However, his mask of composure soon shattered. Bian He saw a look of disbelief and disappointment on Qi Ming’s face. Just because Qi Ming had not struggled, and had even encouraged him with soft sounds, the boy had foolishly assumed they shared mutual feelings.

Normally, Qi Ming’s expression was gentle. His dark green, phoenix-shaped eyes usually held a faint smile. When he looked at people, the corners of his eyes would tilt up slightly, like willow branches brushing a lake surface. But now, those eyes were filled with shock, disappointment, and heartache. Like sharp pebbles being stuffed into Bian He’s still-aching throat, they left him speechless.

Even more suffocating was the lingering flush at the corners of Qi Ming’s eyes. It spread along the curve of his lids, making his dark green pupils look even more translucent and fragile. What was originally a sharp eye shape now looked like jade wet by rain. It was so beautiful one would not dare touch it, fearing that the light within would shatter completely.

Bian He’s mind was filled with that heartbreaking face. He could not possibly imagine that Qi Ming was acting; he only felt that everything just now had been his own delusion.

“I am sorry, hyung. I did not mean to…”

The last few words were so quiet they melted into the air. Bian He likely realized how ridiculous the sentence sounded. Had he accidentally wandered into Qi Ming’s bed, slipped and removed his pants, and then incidentally used his mouth?

He reached out, his fingertips trembling as if to brush away a non-existent tear from Qi Ming’s lashes. But Yu-hyeon did not give him the chance. He grabbed Bian He’s wrist and flung it away with force.

“Damn it! Get away from him! Do not touch him!”

With those words, the tension in the room exploded. In the ensuing scuffle, Bian He was dragged by his hair to the floor. He lunged back up, kicking Yu-hyeon away as the latter tried to pin him down.

Leaning against the headboard, Qi Ming watched the two madmen brawling on the floor, his expression blank.

So sleepy. I still want to sleep.

End this quickly.